#I should have fuckin asked if I could have been slipped in last Monday for an earlier appointment instead of waiting

[liltaz-asatreat]

I'm about to mcfuckin lose it

[babyboibucky]

Kinda Like It When You Lie

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Summary: You discover the reason why Chris has been lying to you about his whereabouts.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: le smut, le angst, le toxicity but a sorta happy ending I guess???

A/N: I tagged everyone in my Everything Bucky tag list because why not lmfao okay but no, I’m not sure how often I will be writing fics for Seb’s other characters so I won’t be having a separate tag list for that yet. If this isn’t something you’re not interested in, feel free to ignore skskks

I am dedicating this piece to @lookiamtrying​ who got so pissed off that her mans Chris got a lower vote count than Mickey (prior to the release of Monday) when I did my character fic survey lmfao ilysm, Mina!!! This was also inspired by FLETCHER’s If You’re Gonna Lie

MAIN MASTERLIST

Chris kissed you as if it was his last day on earth. It made your insides twist in a blissful way, the kind of kiss that literally took your breath away and made your head spin. You could feel your lungs burning up from the lack of oxygen and yet you didn’t want to pull away.

All you could focus on was how his lips moved against yours, how his tongue danced around your mouth as if he owned you. And in that moment, he really did.

You got lost in Chris— his taste, his rough palms against the smooth expanse of your skin, his weight on top of you as he pressed you down against the cheap motel bed.

It wasn’t until you tried to touch Chris that you realized he had restrained your wrists with something cold and hard. Pulling away from his fervent kiss, you glanced up and saw that he had both of your wrists handcuffed against the headboard.

Tugging at your wrists, you let out a chuckle. “What’re ya, a cop?” you asked.

Chris breathed out through his nose, “Kinda.” he rasped out before taking your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging at it before sliding his tongue back into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and opened up your legs to fully accommodate Chris’ huge build, his pelvis thrusting against your clothed core making you whine against his lips.

“You gonna arrest me or somethin’?” you asked playfully, tilting your neck to the side as you allowed Chris to nip at your skin, his thick beard scratching you much to your delight.

He pulled back to look at your eyes, “Only for stealin’ my heart, darling.”

-

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into something more. Not that you were complaining, in fact, you’d quickly fallen head over heels for Chris. How could you not when he was the most honest man you’d met in your entire life?

After that first night, Chris told you everything about him and his job. An FBI agent who needed to go undercover as a drug dealer in order to infiltrate a huge drug syndicate. He had been undercover for a while now and it was consuming, he said. That’s how you found him drinking alone at the bar you worked at.

“You planning to consume our entire stock of beers or what?”

Chris let out a breathy chuckle as you placed two more bottles of beer on his table. The man had been in the bar for hours now, drowning his miseries away since his arrival. You noticed him as soon as he sauntered into the bar— all beard and tattooed muscles on display with the denim vest he wore.

“I’m sorry.” he huffed out and you were surprised at how soft spoken he was despite his tough exterior. “Work’s been stressing me out, is all.” He explained with a firm smile.

You couldn’t help but return the gesture, “Thought you were stressin’ over your girl.” You smirked.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Got no girl to come home to.” He said, voice an octave lower and a little bit rougher.

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Man like you can easily find a solution to that.” You said and winked before heading back behind the bar, swaying your hips a little more than the usual.

By the time you reached the bar, you looked back at Chris and caught him staring with a certain look in his eyes.

The same look he would give you whenever you get mad at him for coming home late. The look that always won you over no matter what.

-

“You said you’d be home by eight, Chris. That was four hours ago.”

Chris rubbed his face and dropped his keys on the tray by the front door. You watched him with suspecting eyes as he trudged towards you, eyes tired yet apologetic.

“‘m sorry, sweetheart. Went out with the guys, you know how it is.” he said and tried to reach out to you but you were quick to step back.

“Could’ve texted me, y’know? I made dinner, your favorite. Got cold and decided to throw it in the bin when you didn’t show up.” you said, shaking your head in disappointment and turned around to retreat back into the bedroom.

Chris caught you and gripped your waist in his strong hands, preventing you from further walking away. He pulled your back against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck as he whispered apologies into your ear.

“I’m sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you, huh?” he murmured roughly into your ear. “Wanna make you feel good, make you forget my sins.” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from you.

He sucked the skin beneath your earlobe, making your knees weak and your core throb. Chris gently turned you around to face him until your eyes met his-- dark and still apologetic, you wondered why because you’d already forgiven him the moment his hands touched your skin.

Your question was immediately forgotten when Chris kissed you, tongue quickly finding its way into your mouth. His kisses were always so urgent, so hungry and feral.

He always kissed you as if it was the last time.

Clothes strewn everywhere, raspy grunts and high pitched moans, sweaty bodies moving against each other. Every single time you and Chris argued, it always ended the same way, with you giving in to his sweet words and hot touches.

A hand on your nape kept your cheek pressed down onto the mattress as Chris pounded you from behind. Laying flat on your stomach, you could feel every ridge and every vein of his cock as it dragged against your walls. Gripping the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you slightly lifted your ass up earning a harsh spank from Chris.

“You fuckin’ like it when I fuck you rough?” he growled, spanking your ass again before squeezing it into his large hand.

You whimpered at the cold sensation of the rings on Chris’ fingers, wanting it to mark your skin as soon as he was done with you. You moaned when Chris pulled back until only the tip of his hard cock remained in your tight pussy. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when he pushed your nape further into the mattress at the same time he slammed back in with such force that made you elicit a sound akin to a wail.

“Right there, Chris!” you wantonly pleaded, your drool soaking the sheets beneath you.

“I got you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good you’d forget what you were mad about.”

And forget you did, not just once, not twice. Not even thrice. Every single time Chris came home to you smelling like someone else’s perfume when he claimed to be out with his friends, you always ended up willingly forgetting about it. Chris had you wrapped around his finger and you knew it.

You knew he was lying about his whereabouts and the thing was, you chose to believe in it.

Because with each lie that slipped past his lips, came the sweetest apology followed by a promise to make you feel good and Chris always delivered.

You’d rather hear Chris’ lies than to hear his goodbye just so you can have him in your bed again and again and again.

-

The last lie you tolerated was when he forgot about your anniversary and came home the next day, all moody and grumpy. He went straight to the bathroom, mumbling about how he was tired from work and you didn’t know whether he was lying again or not.

You’d believed too many of his lies by now that you couldn’t even determine which ones were the truth and which ones weren’t.

“Happy anniversary to us, Chris. In case you forgot.” you said as soon as he got out of the shower.

Chris’ face fell, eyes refusing to meet yours from shame. He should be ashamed and so should you, because you’ve tolerated his lies for a year now and no matter how much you wanted to confront him, you always ended up forgiving him.

“Fuck.” he cursed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that...the buy bust operation was last night and it slipped my mind.” he said.

And there it was again, the look in his eyes that turned you into a moaning mess beneath him as soon as his lips found yours. Whenever Chris would lie, it always seemed to be so fucking worth it. Because he always fucked you senseless until you were stupid for him, enough to let him get away with his pathetic excuses.

But not tonight, because as Chris bent you in half with his cock slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you promised that this will be the last time you’d enjoy the aftermath of his lies.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. Want this pussy to milk my cock dry, c’mon pretty girl.” he urged, slipping a hand in between your sweaty bodies, his thumb swiping at your clit until stars exploded behind your eyes.

His name was chanted out like a prayer, your lips red and swollen from being kissed and bitten. A few more hard thrusts and you felt Chris spill his seed into you, warm ropes of his cum painting your walls. He carefully slipped your legs off from his shoulders before laying down on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your chest as the both of you caught on your breaths.

“Where were you last night?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned his head to you, trying to read your face but you kept your gaze on the ceiling. Tears escaped your eyes as you laid on the bed, blinking them away when they wouldn’t stop spilling.

“I want the truth, Chris.” you added, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

The bed moved when Chris sat up, reaching for your face and turning it to wards him. Your lips were trembling, fighting back your sob. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“I don’t want your apology, Chris. I want the truth, please.” you begged.

“I can’t stay with you anymore.” he said.

You frowned and sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your naked body. “Who’s she?” you asked. “I know you’ve been seein’ someone behind my back, I want to know. Who is she? ‘nother FBI agent? Or someone you met while you were undercover?” you were more of mad than hurt now, all your suppressed emotions finally resurfacing and begging to be released.

Chris swallowed and refused to meet your gaze, “It’s...it’s not like that.” he said.

“The fuck you mean, Chris?” you asked.

There was silence for a brief moment, as if Chris was gathering up all the courage he had left in him. And then he looked at you with the same guilty, apologetic eyes again. But it was different now because you knew that there wouldn’t be anymore lies which meant no more sweet talk and no more Chris in your bed until the next morning.

“I never cheated on you.” he huffed out. “I’ve always been...with Erin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were a part of my undercover. The leader of the drug syndicate I was trying to infiltrate frequented the bar you worked at. Needed to get as much as information as I can and I easily got that when we started—”

Your hand trembled after landing a solid slap on Chris’ face. Your heart ached, your vision spun and suddenly, nothing made any sense to you anymore. All this time, you thought that was Chris was being unfaithful to you when in truth, he was cheating…with you.

Now you finally understood why he always kissed you as if it was the last time, why he looked at you with those apologetic eyes whenever he came home late, whenever he lied.

Chris told you the entire truth, that he was at the bar during an operation and not after. He manipulated you into believing that everything he told you were real, that he was a good and an honest man, that Erin was nothing but a partner at work.

“When you said you love me, was that a lie too?” you asked, voice breaking because this was too much. Everything was too much.

Chris held your face in between his hands, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks, “No. No, that wasn’t a lie. I do, I love you. As soon as the operation was done, I couldn’t say goodbye. I always said I’d tell you the truth but I couldn’t. I wish I hadn’t met you like this.” he reassured.

You pushed him away and covered your face with your hands, unable to believe that for an entire year, you’d dedicated your life and your love to someone who had been using you.

“Does she know about me?” you asked.

Chris nodded, “She does.”

You scoffed, “She fuckin’ pities me, doesn’t she? Probably told you to take your time, ‘cause the truth will fuckin’ ruin me.” you said and chuckled bitterly.

“You used me, Chris. Fuckin’ used me and made me a goddamn fool. Is Chris even your real name? Who the fuck are you?” you asked.

“I lied about everything except for two things. My name and when I said I love you.”

You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You’ve finally woken up, brought yourself back to consciousness and decided to accept that Chris was never honest and that not once did he become yours.

“Liar.”

-

Picking up the pieces of your broken trust was very much like working with the shards of a broken mirror. At times you came out unscathed but for the most part, you were left wounded and bleeding and in pain.

Putting all the broken pieces back together was definitely not easy and it took you years to do so. No matter how careful you were though, the mirror was never completed. There were ugly cracks and everywhere that you couldn’t hide and there was a missing piece. But that’s alright, because you tried to put yourself back together and you weren’t perfect but at least you did your best.

The bar you started working for was quite new, which explained how busy it was even on a slow Wednesday. It wasn’t as big as the old bar you used to work at, but this was newer and catered to a more classy crowd.

No rough bikers, no FBI agents going undercover, no funny businesses.

“Two bottles of beer for table seven.” your manager called out, “Thought it’d be slow today, boy was I wrong.” she commented to which you chuckled.

Taking out two ice-cold bottles from the fridge, you weaved through the crowd and tables until you reached your destination. Placing the bottles on top of the table, you asked the customer if he wanted to order something to go with his drinks.

Taking out your notepad, you finally looked up and was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. You almost didn’t recognize Chris if it weren’t for those eyes. He was no longer sporting a buzz cut and had longer locks, his beard had grown out but was well-trimmed. His tattooed arms weren’t in full display and instead of the usual denim outfits he wore, he was merely clad in a plaid, maroon button down shirt.

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “Let me guess, you’re undercover and your target is a frequent customer here.” you said.

Chris laughed mirthlessly and shook his head, “I quit from that job years ago.” he said, much to your surprise.

“You stressin’ over your girl?” you asked.

“Got no girl to come home to...anymore.” Chris replied, those damn apologetic eyes making your knees weak once again.

You rolled your eyes at him and placed your notepad back in your apron, “If you’ve nothin’ else to order, then enjoy your beer. I guess.” you said and turned around but was quickly tugged back when Chris grabbed at your wrist.

Scowling at him, you eyed his hand and then back up at his eyes. They didn’t look apologetic though, you realized, he was giving you the same look but something was different.

You just didn’t know what changed.

“I did love you.” he said. “And I still do and I want to come home to you again.” he quickly added, tightening his grip around your wrist as if he was afraid to let you go.

Surprisingly, there was not an ounce of anger left in your heart. It had been a complete three years since the incident. He left you feeling used and broken but you managed to fix yourself. Not completely, but enough to find it in your heart to forgive Chris for what he did.

“I want to believe you, I really do. But it’s hard for me to do that now.” you explained.

Chris nodded in understanding, “I know but I want to start over again. Make things right, if you’d let me. No lies this time, just me and my truth.” he said, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the inside of your wrist.

Honesty. Pure and genuine honesty— that’s what changed in the way Chris looked at you. There wasn’t any guilt in there anymore, no hidden agendas and whatnot.

Just the truth and the missing piece you never knew you needed to complete your mirror.

-

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[nix-the-cryptid]

Actions Have Consequences

Professor AU! Heisenberg x Gender Neutral! AFAB! Reader

Part three of my series

WARNING!! 18+ NSFW

Tags: Punishment, misuse of rulers, praise, on top of a desk, minor overstimulation, minor orgasm denial

Summary: Y/n ends up getting punished for some avoidable mistakes. But, it may or may not end up working out in the end.  

During class, Y/n’s mind kept going back to what Mr. Heisenberg had said about “disciplinary actions” and having to work on Y/n’s “listening skills.” If they were honest, y/n was a little nervous. Heisenberg was known for being harsh on students who didn’t follow the rules or do their work properly. Getting yelled at by him was not something you admitted to freely. But, with how their relationship was working out, y/n realized that their “punishment” may end up being a bit different.

Thinking on their relationship over the past little while had y/n thinking about a lot of stuff. Ever since that first time together, almost two weeks ago, they almost always ended up having sex after class. Not that y/n minded, of course. But was that all there was between them? What would happen when classes were done for the year? Y/n graduated this year, too, so then what? The thought of never getting to spend time with Mr. Heisenberg like that made y/n’s heart sink harder than they realized. They enjoyed Professor Heisenberg’s company and it was becoming obvious they wanted more out of the relationship. But they doubted it would go over well if they brought this up with him. Y/n doubted that Mr. Heisenberg would want to commit himself to such a relationship with a student. The pain in y/n’s gut deepened at this thought, a lump catching in their throat as they felt like wanting to cry. Y/n quickly shook their head of the thought, coming back to reality.

Apparently, the class was meant to take some notes on whatever Mr. Heisenberg had presented but, just as y/n came to, it was over, and they hadn’t written down a single thing. Chances were Mr. Heisenberg most likely noticed at some point but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten through that,” He exclaimed, grabbed his things from the desk. “Let’s head to the shop and work on those practical assignments. Maybe get them done today, yeah?” Y/n groaned as they began packing their things, noticing that there was still a whole 50 minutes left of class.  2pm simply could not come fast enough. They soon followed Mr. Heisenberg out the door and down to the lab, almost wanting to walk beside him but deciding against so as to not draw too much attention to themselves. Mr. Heisenberg was wearing a black t-shirt today, but like always, it was just a bit too tight on him. Y/n saw, just at the base of Heisenberg’s neck were some faint red marks. Squinting a bit to get a closer look, y/n soon realized that they had left those marks a couple days ago. They blushed furiously at this thought, wondering how many of the others might have noticed those marks at any point and if anyone had asked about them.

 “Hey, y/n!” One of the other students, Leon, called out. He was one of the better students in the class and was nice enough. His voice startled y/n out of their staring at Mr. Heisenberg. He and Y/n had been working together on the current assignment. “Do anything fun last night?” Y/n had to suppress a small noise at this question, a small blush forming on their face. ‘yeah, totally! I got railed by Professor Heisenberg in the shop after class!’ they thought to themselves.

 “Uh, no,” They laughed awkwardly, rubbing their neck. Leon’s face sank a bit at this. “Not really. I just went home and did some studying.” Leon just nodded. “I don’t go out much. And of course, by the time I get home and finish any work, I’m just too tired to really do anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Leon agreed. He then glanced at Professor Heisenberg for a bit before smirking. “Ya know, whoever left those scratch marks on his neck there,” He whispered to y/n making them blush deeply. “They’re one lucky fuckin bitch.”

 “Well, I’ll be sure to let them know, Leon.” Heisenberg smirked, making Leon let out a squeak of embarrassment. Y/n did their best to stifle their laughter as Heisenberg unlocked the doors to the shop, letting everyone else enter.

 “Well,” Leon exclaimed. “I can never look our Prof in the eye ever again!” y/n chuckled at this before blushing a bit more. ‘If only you knew,’ they thought. ‘If only you fucking knew.’

  “Yo, Sir!!” Another student exclaimed. “Whose car is that?!!” Y/n furrowed their brow before noticing the Cadillac at the back of the shop. ‘funny, wonder who’s that is. It kinda looks like- OH NO!’ y/n’s brows shot up and their eyes widened. That was Professor Heisenberg Series 62, uncovered meaning y/n had forgot to cover it the night before like they were supposed to. ‘shitshitshit’ They looked over to Mr. Heisenberg, who had also gone wide eyed at the sight. ‘Now I’m really in for it after class.’ Heisenberg shot them a hard glare, signaling his disappointment at the scene. However, he quickly masked it before turning to the student who had noticed it.

“Ah, that beauty?” Heisenberg sighed. “She’s all mine! Brought her to get her working again. Didn’t have the equipment needed back home.” Professor Heisenberg explained. “Bitch needed a whole new engine, practically.” Y/n could feel the jealousy building with each word. Heisenberg looked at them and must’ve noticed as his expression softened a little. Y/n then watched a number of students rush over. ‘They’re gonna ruin the paint!’ Now y/n was angry. Not just with their classmates but with themselves for not putting the cover back on. 

 “Uh sir,” A female student piped up. “There’s a dent in the hood…” y/n’s eyes went wide. They knew exactly what that dent was from. Seeing Heisenberg’s face showed that he also realized what it was from. 

 “I must’ve been so busy repairing the engine, I must not have fucking noticed!” He laughed nervously. Y/n watched as Heisenberg blushed at this, their own blush forming as they tried not to laugh.

  “Well, do you need any help with it, sir?” Leon asked.

“NO!” Heisenberg blurted out, rather fast and loud. Y/n let out a chuckle at this. “No, I’m close to being done. But you all could do better on your tests, I wouldn’t spend as much time having to mark them!” The class let out a collective groan, except for y/n. The pang of jealousy still sat heavy in their gut. And meeting Heisenberg’s gaze showed that they weren’t doing too well at hiding it. His stare was intense and dominating. Y/n lessened their pout a bit, but they were still upset with themselves over not covering the car and having everyone see it.

 ————————

 “Alright see you Monday, everyone!” Mr. Heisenberg called out as everyone got up to leave. Y/n hung back, taking their time to clean up. 

 “Hey, y/n!” Leon called out, as he threw his bag over his shoulder. “I was meant to ask you if you wanted to hang out. A few of us are getting together at my place for the afternoon.”  Y/n stammered a little, watching Professor Heisenberg pack up his own things. He glanced up, waiting for y/n’s answer. “I can give you a ride if you need. I know you walk to school and all so… It wouldn’t be any trouble.” As much as y/n knew they should socialize with their classmates, today was the absolute worst day to have been asked. They would’ve said yes but, they also didn’t want to be in anymore trouble with Mr. Heisenberg, no matter how enjoyable the punishment really would be.

        “Uh, actually,” y/n started. “I’ve got another class today, so I’ll pass.” They looked back to Heisenberg to see him give another glance before continuing packing his things. Leon must’ve noticed this because he cocked a brow at y/n.

      “I thought this was your last class,” He pondered.

        “One of my other classes had to be moved to the afternoons recently.” Y/n lied. Leon’s expression neutralized at this, meaning he accepted it.

“Oh, okay. Maybe next time.” The other student shrugged. He then headed out of the class. Y/n let out a shaky breath before they turned back to their things and finished packing, hearing Mr. Heisenberg approach. They stiffened a bit but continued what they were doing.

 “I’m disappointed, y/n,” he stated, coming to lean against y/n’s station. “First, you don’t listen before class. Then, I found out you didn’t cover the convertible?” Y/n hung their head in shame. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” They replied, keeping their head bowed but peeking up at their professor. “I completely forgot to cover the car last night.” They heard Heisenberg scoff.

“You know I was going to wait until we got back to the classroom but after this, well, shit.” Heisenberg grabbed a hold of y/n’s chin, forcing them to look at him, smirking. “It looks like we’ll just have to settle things right. Fucking. Here.” Y/n gulped, slightly nervous about what was coming. “Get in my office. Now.” Heisenberg let go y/n’s face roughly and pointed to the office. “Go on.” With that, Y/n quickly headed to the small room, Professor Heisenberg close behind. “You’re normally such a good student, too. I’m shocked that you’d let yourself slip like this.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mr. Heisenberg,” Y/n whined.

 “Apologies aren’t gonna get you out of trouble that fucking easily, y/n.” Heisenberg growled as they entered the office. He made a show of slamming the office door shut and locking it. He also closed the blinds to the door but not the other windows. “So, we need to work on those listening skills of yours.”

“How?” Y/n asked sheepishly. Heisenberg just grinned as he took a seat in his office chair and began piling the rest of his papers together on the desk.

“Well, first, you’re gonna strip.” He ordered. Y/n made quick work of their clothes, watching Professor Heisenberg clear everything off the desk. They hadn’t noticed before, but the desk was metal, which meant the cold air from the AC in the shop had chilled it, even with everything on top of it. When Heisenberg finished, he turned to y/n and simply stared for a moment, taking in their naked body. Y/n shifted slightly, keeping eye contact with their professor. “Eager to please, as always.” Mr. Heisenberg chuckled. “Bend over the desk. Now. And pass me that ruler while you’re at it.” Y/n looked to the wooden ruler hanging next to the desk. Their eyes went wide when they realized what Heisenberg was planning on doing. Y/n simply passed the ruler to the professor and slowly leaned themselves over the desk. They winced a bit at the cold metal against their skin. However, the shiver that down their spine was not from the cold. Heisenberg chuckled at this, bringing a hand to their ass and began massaging it a bit. “You know what, hands behind your back. C’mon.” Y/n complied with haste. As they did this, Heisenberg’s hand left their ass. But before y/n could make any sound to protest, they heard the sound of Heisenberg undoing his belt. Turning to see just what he was doing, Y/n watched as Mr. Heisenberg stood up, took the ruler in his teeth, and used his belt to tie y/n’s wrists together. The leather of the belt bit into their skin just a bit, making y/n hiss a bit. They then looked up at Heisenberg to see him take hold of the ruler again, smirking. “You look so fucking nice like this, y/n! Now, I want to hear you count, got it?” Y/n nodded, gulping.

“Understood, sir!” Y/n blurted out. SMACK! “AHH! ONE!!” Y/n cried out, both in pleasure and pain. The force was brutal and sent them forward a bit, which made their nipples rub against the cold metal of the desk. This intensified the pool of arousal in their gut. SMACK! “TWO!!” Y/n sobbed.

 “Ya know, maybe I should’ve let some of the other students help with the car,” Heisenberg mused, letting the ruler rest against the sore cheek. “Would’ve saved you some trouble.” He lifted the ruler up, waiting a bit.

 “But sir-“ SMACK! SMACK! “AAAHH! THREEEEEFFFFOUR!” Y/n felt tears stinging their eyes. The arousal building up from this was growing fast. SMACK! “FIVE! Fuuuccckkk!” They heard Heisenberg laugh behind them. He then grabbed their tied hands and bent over them.

 “Or would that have just pissed you off, kitten?” He growled in their ear. They whimpered as Professor Heisenberg pressed against their back, his hard cock rubbing up along their back. y/n let out a whine at the feeling. “All those students messing with your hard work, putting their fucking fingers all over the paint? I saw your face when everyone rushed over to it.” Heisenberg lifted himself back off of y/n, who groaned at the loss of contact. Suddenly, Heisenberg was rubbing the cheek slowly, as if trying to soothe the pain. “Ready to continue?” He asked, his voice somewhat gentle.

         “Yes Mr-“ SMACK! “HEISENBERG!! FUCK, SIX!!” Now he was focusing on the left cheek. The tears that had welled in y/n’s eyes fell, finally as they lurched forward from the force of the hit. SMACK! “JESUS!! SE-“ SMACK! “-VENNNNEIGHT!!!” Y/n was full on crying, the pained pleasure causing the arousal in their gut to become a bit too much. Y/n felt themselves clench around nothing, their slick just soaking their folds and the insides of their thighs. SMACK! “NINE! FFFUUUCCKK MEEEEE!!!” Y/n sobbed, feeling themselves right on the edge of their orgasm.

 “Oh?” Heisenberg purred, resting the ruler against their ass. “Is something wrong, Y/n?” Heisenberg knew exactly what was wrong. But watching y/n squirm and try to choke out an answer was too fun.

“Please sir, I’m so-“ SMACK!!! “CLLLOOSEEEFUCK!” Heisenberg slammed the ruler hard against both cheeks, with more force than the last ones. They screamed at this, so close to finishing and yet not close enough. It was almost torture. “TENNNNNNNN” Y/n sobbed, tears streaming down their face. They then heard the ruler be tossed to the side somewhere. Y/n then moved to push themselves off the desk as best they could when Mr. Heisenberg pushed their head back down. He then shoved his hand in between their legs, landing on y/n’s clit. “SIRRRRR” The screamed as he began to harshly rub the oversensitive bud. However, this only lasted a little bit, before Heisenberg pulled away. Y/n sobbed, merely wanting to come now.

 “Shit, you really did enjoy that, huh?”  Y/n could only whine in response “You did good, kitten.” He mused, untying their hands. “But we’re not done yet.” Y/n let out another whimper. “Sit up and face me.”  Y/n then braced themselves and pushed up off the desk, their legs barely able to keep them upright. They then shifted themselves around to face Professor Heisenberg. As they went to sit, the cold metal against their raw cheeks stung fiercely. They shrieked at the feeling, which then turned in to a pained whimper. “Aww, is it cold against your bruised ass? Well, you’ll just have to endure it for a bit longer.” With that, Y/n watched as Professor Heisenberg began stripping, his pace slow. It was like he was putting on a show for y/n, who could only squirm against the cold desk. “Damn, what a fucking sight you are.” He growled as he slowly removed his shirt. “I’m still reeling from Leon’s comment earlier too.” He joked. Y/n blushed as they remembering what their classmate had noticed. “Part of me, a very evil part me, wanted to implicate that it wasn’t just anyone who left those marks.” Y/n whined, squirming more. “Bet that would’ve been quite the punishment on its own.” Heisenberg slipped off his boxers, stepping out of them and approaching y/n. “Oh, you know I would never do that to you, Kitten.” He purred, moving close to y/n, leaning over them to kiss them. His hand then made its way down to y/n’s pubic mound, his fingers slipping between their folds. Y/n moaned loudly at this, bracing themselves against Mr. Heisenberg as he began to run his fingers up and down their cunt, just missing their clit. They were extremely sensitive down there, as they had yet to come still. Heisenberg made quick work of their folds and clit, rubbing fiercely. “Come for me y/n.” With that, Y/n screamed out in pure pleasure, coming hard and drenching Heisenberg’s hand in their juices. Once they had started to come down, Heisenberg gently grabbed their waist and brought them both over to the chair taking a seat, placing y/n in his lap facing him. Once they did, he gently grabbed their ass and began massaging them. “How do you feel, y/n?” He purred as y/n wrapped their arms around his neck and rested their head against his chest.

 “A bit sore,” Y/n whined slightly. "But, you seem to be in need of some relief.” Y/n purred as they attempted to push back against Heisenberg’s dick. The man groaned at this feeling, squeezing y/n’s ass a bit to keep them still. Heisenberg could see the exhaustion starting to take a hold of y/n but the feeling of their drenched cunt against his dick was hard to resist. 

 “I don’t want you to overexert yourself, Buttercup.” Heisenberg’s voice was soft as he went into kiss y/n’s neck. This made y/n hum in pleasure. “I was pretty fucking hard on you.”

 “I want to, sir.” Y/n repositioned themselves over top of him, taking a hold of his dick. They slowly lowered themselves, the slow push hitting every nerve in their cunt. Both y/n and Heisenberg. let out a long and loud moan as they sat themselves down, taking in his full length.

 “God, you feel so good, y/n” Heisenberg hissed, grabbing their waist, and gently lifting them up before pulling them back down, thrusting up a bit. Y/n gasped at the feeling, quickly wrapping their arms around Heisenberg’s neck again. Y/n then matched Heisenberg’s movements, lifting themselves up and coming back down. They felt themselves clench around his member, drawing a moan from his lips. “Fuck!” Suddenly, He grabbed Y/n’s legs and stood up. Y/n shrieked, tightening their hold on Mr. Heisenberg. He placed them back down on the desk, which was still cold, making y/n arch their back from the feeling. “Cold still?” Heisenberg joked, kissing their neck again.

 “Yesss,” Y/n hissed, trying to grind down on Heisenberg’s dick since he wasn’t moving. “Please, sir.” They whined. Heisenberg lifted his head from y/n neck and looked them in the eye before standing up and pulling y/n’s arm off. “Please fuck me.” They begged. Heisenberg smiled as he grabbed onto y/n thighs before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in hard. Y/n let out a small scream that quickly turned into a moan as Heisenberg continued slamming into them.

“Always so perfect like this,” Heisenberg grunted, squeezing y/n’s thighs tight enough where there was a slight sting. Y/n whined at the sensation, tossing their head to the side. “Oh no, look at me.” Mr. Heisenberg growled, grabbing a hold of y/n’s chin, and yanking it so they were facing him. This caused y/n to gasp, grabbing onto his wrist. “I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours while I fuck you senseless.” Y/n moaned again, quickly locking their legs around Heisenberg and bringing him closer. As they did this, he took a hold of their waist with his other hand and lifted them up, shifting the angle. This caused his thrusts to hit deeper into y/n, making the pleasure increase. “You love this, don’t you? When I fuck you like this?” He growled, leaning forward a bit and pulling y/n’s face closer.

 “Yes, sir!” Y/n moaned. Heisenberg gave a couple hard thrusts at this answer, drawing the moan out. “I love it when you fuck me, Sir!”

“That’s a good girl,” Heisenberg purred, letting out of y/n’s neck, and moving his hand down their side. “My good little kitten.” This drew another moan from Y/n, enjoying the praise. The hand that had snaked down y/n’s soon made itself known again as Heisenberg began rubbing their clit. The sudden feeling of his hand on their nub drew an incredibly loud gasp from them that then devolved into a whine, seeing as they were still somewhat sensitive there. “All the noises you make are. Just. Fucking. Perfect.” Heisenberg emphasized each of those words with a hard thrust. Y/n’s cunt then clenched hard around his length, making him moan as well, which turned into a small chuckle. “Do you like it when I praise you, Buttercup?” Y/n just nodded, unable to form a coherent enough thought to actually respond. Heisenberg just chuckled before leaning in for another kiss and picking up speed. Y/n mewled into the kiss, the sensation sending them right to the edge again. “Are you about to cum again, y/n?” Heisenberg asked softly, breaking the kiss. Y/n could only moan in response. “Well, then. Go on. Cum. But. Scream. My real name when. You do.” His hips stuttered as he spoke, making the words come out in moans. He then began thrusting even faster, bringing y/n over the edge.

“KAAAARLLL!” Y/n screamed, arching their back as they came. Heisenberg also came at this, thrusting as deep as he could and filling y/n. The warmth of his seed flooding y/n’s insides, making them moan even more. The two remained like that for several minutes as they came down and caught their breath.

“God, that was… shit” Heisenberg said, still somewhat breathless. He slowly pulled out and let go of y/n, pulling a whine from them at the loss. “Think you can stand, Buttercup?” He asked. Y/n lifted their head to look at him, nodding slightly. Heisenberg  offered his hands for them to take and use him as leverage. Y/n sat up with a groan, the feeling of Heisenberg’s seed dripping out being an odd sensation. Professor Heisenberg opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small rag, which he then used to wipe up any cum dripping down y/n’s legs. They moaned softly at the feeling, biting their lip, and crossing their arms over their chest. Once he was done, Heisenberg  sat down in the office chair, beaming at y/n. “Come ‘ere, kitten.” Y/n pushed themselves off the desk and wobbled over into Heisenberg’s lap. “You did so well. Listened to everything I asked. A+ performance.” He purred, pulling y/n close to his chest, and stroking their hair.

“Thank you, sir.” They yawned, exhaustion filling their muscles now that the adrenaline from their arousal has subsided. Heisenberg let out a small chuckle, moving his hand down y/n’s back.

 “I told you,” He started, his voice low. “Use my name.” Suddenly, y/n was wide awake. They lifted themselves off of Heisenberg’s chest to look right at him. They were wide eyed, furrowing their brow at his comment. “What’s that fuckin look for, y/n?”

 “Sir, I-“ Y/n stammered. Heisenberg just hushed them, pulling them back to his chest.

 “Shhhh,” He hummed. “Just relax.” The two of them were silent for a good bit after this. It wasn’t tense, however. Simply reveling in each other’s presence. But this time felt different. Their relationship had shifted. Whether it was a good thing or not, only time would tell. Y/n felt the full extent of the exhaustion that had been piling on them, their eyelids growing too heavy to keep open. Another yawn slipped out of them as they snuggled into Heisenberg. He placed another kiss to the top of y/n head and muttered something else they couldn’t quite catch before y/n drifted off.

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

And there ya have it!! Again, if you have any requests for future chapters, feel free to leave it in my inbox!! And if you wanna be tagged for future fics, just lemme know!!

@stararch4ngell4dy @fredyria @kuronekopirate @weathur @1800shootmeplease

[starlightrows]

The Lady of The House

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings and Tags: swearing, not a lot of Boba reader interaction, mostly reader just asserting her position as queen

Summary: Two guards, my original characters Tems and Rhys, have been tasked with informing crime boss Boba of an intrusion... but there’s one problem. It’s the middle of the night and he’s currently with his wife sleeping.

AN: Happy Monday! This blog is getting a bouns fic today!

“I don’t wanna go in there Rhys...” Tems said shakily. 

“The boss said he had to be informed immediately if someone was caught trying to break in to the palace, if the alarm on his ship ever tripped, or if the Mand’alor hailed him.... and all three happened over the course of 20 minutes. We have to tell him Tems!” Rhys waved off his patrol partners fretting and made for the handle on the large ornate door leading to Boba Fett’s private chambers “he will feed us to the rankor if we don’t go in there” 

“Look, you’ve only worked here for three lunar cycles. You ever wonder why there was a job open?” Tems grabbed his arm, yanking him back. The Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a shake of his head. “You’re all happy to point out the rules the boss has about being informed. But what is the other, number one fucking rule he has?” 

The realization struck him and his eyes went wide, he gave a silent “ohhh” 

Boba Fett’s number one rule, mostly for his business partners, but also his staff: Do not disturb the lady of the house. Boba Fett’s wife.

An unassuming woman, she was kind and gentle, slightly out of place among dangerous and somewhat violent bounty hunters and crime families that frequented the upper halls. She spent most of her days working on fixing the lower levels of the run down palace. She kept to herself, with the notable exceptions of her husband and his loyal bodyguard, Fennec Shand. The rule seemed to be, if she spoke to you, answer respectfully and do as she asks. But if you bother her, get in her way, or insult her... there would be hell to pay. 

“W-what happened to the last guy?” Rhys shifted nervously on his feet. He honestly hadn’t considered why there was a position available when he accepted the job. 

“He barred the lady from entering the throne room when the boss had guests. He didn’t know the guests were there by her request, but that doesn’t make him any less dead right now” Tems told him, looking uncomfortable at the memory. 

“Well we just won’t wake up the lady then” Rhys said “we’ll be really quiet. We’ll only wake up the boss, alright?” 

Tems still wasn’t convinced “Do we both have to go in there?” 

“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” Rhys threw up his hands in exasperation “every second we wait to go in there, the more angry he’ll be that we waited. I’m going in there, you can stand out here like a little bitch if you want to,”

Tems was tempted to throw a punch, this guy had no idea just how dangerous Boba Fett really is, or how scary he could be right after waking up. Nonetheless, he followed as his partner made for the door again. 

The heavy door swung open silently, surprising given how massive it was. The room was dark, lit dimly by the silvery light of the moon coming through the small window high up on the wall. Against the far wall, was an enormous bed where both guards could see their employer sleeping soundly with his wife tucked securely to his bare chest. 

Tems wanted to die. Every step he took deeper into these chambers felt like a step closer to a painful demise. While Rhys was excited, he had never seen any of the residential chambers of the palace. And this one was huge. 

Rhys creeped up to Boba’s side of the bed, while Tems stood awkwardly by the entrance to the chambers. As Rhys approached, reaching out to shake the bosses shoulder, Tems seriously considered making a run for it. Rhys made contact, giving the large scarred shoulder a few good shakes. 

“Sir?” Rhys attempted to whisper. Boba made no movement towards wakefulness, he just continued softly snoring. 

Your eyes flew open and a fearful gasp left your body. You backed up, trying to put distance between yourself and the supposed intruder. 

“Oh my god. No no no no. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry ma’am,” Rhys backed away, hands raised. Tems practically blacked out but stayed frozen in place. 

I’m gonna fuckin die, and it’s all that idiots fault  he thought 

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you recognized the young guard. You drew the covers up to cover yourself, you felt exposed in your thin nightgown. 

“What are you doing here? These are private rooms” you whispered harshly 

“I-I- I have orders,” Rhys stammered, knees knocking together in fear “To-to get the boss if” Rhys lost his voice. He could not seem to get the words to come out of his mouth 

“Get out,” you whisper “Go back out there and do not move. I will be there shortly,” 

Your tone was authoritative and stern, leaving no room for questioning. Rhys practically sprinted out of the room, dragging a paralyzed Tems with him. The door slammed shut behind them, making them both cringe. 

Tems doubled over, placing his hands on his knees and heaving with labored breath. “Oh by the maker... we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die. I’m gonna be sick. We’re gonna die” 

Rhys was pacing back and forth, hands gripping and pulling his own hair. “Shit shit shit shit shit.... you were right. We’re gonna die,” 

The large door swung open once more, and shut again firmly. Both men snapped their heads towards the direction of the sound of the door closing, awaiting the blaster blot that would surely end their lives. But it didn’t not come. Instead, there you stood, in a long robe tired securely about your waist, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Alright, what’s all this about then?” You asked tiredly. Neither man spoke a word, staring blankly at you. You grew annoyed, and tapped your foot impatiently. 

“Oh for heavens sake!” You exclaimed “He sleeps like the dead when he’s had a glass of wine before bed. He won’t be coming out here to throw you in the rankor pit anytime soon, but if one of you doesn’t speak up I most certainly will,” 

“The Mand’alor hailed for the boss,” Tems said quickly. 

“And the alarm on the bosses ship tripped,” Rhys choked out 

“And a scavenger was caught at the southern entrance trying to get in,” Tems added. You blinked at them in surprise. 

“That’s a lot of information to take in,” you said “Okay gentleman, first things first, has the scavenger been dealt with?”  

“Yes,” Rhys piped up

“Yes ma’am,” Tems avoided your gaze, staring meekly at his own two feet. 

“Lovely, and the ship. What tripped the alarm?” You asked, feeling slightly less angry by being awoken. If anything you felt a little bad for these two. 

“We’re not sure ma’am. The guards in the landing bay couldn’t find anything wrong with the ship, and couldn’t find any intruders,” Rhys said, taking Tems’ cue to use a respectful title when speaking to you 

“So then it can wait until morning for a follow up,” you noted “and the Mand’alor? Did he give a particular reason why he was hailing my husband?” 

“No ma’am, but he said it was important,” Tems supplied 

“Hmm, Djarin is a bit of a drama queen. But if he isn’t hailing repeatedly, or flying here himself, then I’m sure it can also wait until morning,” you mused. Rhys and Tems were visibly shaking with anxiety. 

“Well, if that’s all settled then I would love to back to bed. Goodnight gentleman,” you said turning to go. 

“My lady, I’m sorry” Rhys blurted out. You turned back to look at him. 

“For doing your job?” You asked 

“For disturbing you. For breaking the bosses cardinal rule,” he said “I should have listened to my partner. I shouldn’t have gone into your private chambers,” 

“Your job is to follow the orders you have been given. Protect this palace. And report when circumstances deem it necessary, no matter the time of day,” you stated evenly “you’ve done well. And your loyalty will not go unnoticed by my husband,” 

“Please don’t tell him,” Tems said “please don’t tell him it was us,” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him “I won’t if you truly do not want me to, but tell me why,” 

“My lady if the boss knew we came into your chambers, disrupted your sleep...” Tems shook his head “please don’t tell him my lady, I beg you” 

You heart softened, you forget sometimes how truly frightening your husband could be. And these men were genuinely afraid of his wrath. You nod gently. “You have my word,” 

“Gentleman,” you nodded quietly, slipping back through the door. 

The with door now shut, a heavy silence settled over the palace. Tems still felt violently ill, and Rhys was quite sure the boss would kick down the door any second despite the reassurances of his wife. 

“Rhys?” Tems said 

“Yeah?”

“I fucking hate you,”

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion. 

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore. 

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any. 

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back. 

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon. 

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time. 

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

 H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text. 

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift? 

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep. 

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there 

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention. 

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks. 

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through. 

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes. 

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent.  She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him. 

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers. 

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag. 

“Aw thanks, baby,” 

“How was your day?” 

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts. 

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly. 

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,” 

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge. 

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water. 

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye. 

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up. 

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach. 

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below. 

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her. 

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips. 

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. 

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind. 

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back. 

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs. 

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding. 

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.  

“Y’okay?” he checks. 

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain. 

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna. 

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it. 

“I’m crazy for you!”  She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye. 

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests. 

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained. 

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting. 

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag. 

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone. 

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently. 

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand. 

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile. 

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters. 

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question. 

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers. 

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed. 

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast. 

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later. 

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes. 

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge. 

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring  her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe. 

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there. 

********

Wednesday 

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of  a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down. 

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside. 

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment. 

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him. 

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so. 

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss. 

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection. 

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him. 

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare. 

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group. 

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch. 

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.”  Jeff comments to the film crew. 

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response. 

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums. 

“They’re all goin’ out  for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench. 

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood. 

He shrugs. “Just felt right,” 

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response. 

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments. 

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair. 

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities. 

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close. 

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up. 

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small. 

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon. 

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air. 

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare. 

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag. 

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously. 

“Oh, no I’m not,” 

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions. 

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her. 

“What’s his name?” the bride pries. 

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride. 

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin. 

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,” 

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk. 

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,” 

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,” 

“Sounds like a catch,” 

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry. 

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?” 

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,” 

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,” 

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin. 

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair. 

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception. 

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees. 

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases. 

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them. 

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side. 

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks. 

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment. 

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore. 

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene. 

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On. 

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises. 

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert. 

“You did all this?” Alani muses. 

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,” 

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown. 

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up. 

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops. 

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center. 

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy. 

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever. 

********

Friday 

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves. 

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house. 

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose. 

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat. 

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie. 

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face. 

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?” 

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger.  “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat. 

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list. 

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium. 

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards. 

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated. 

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar. 

“Oui, s'il vous plaît." 

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth. 

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne. 

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing. 

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests. 

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk. 

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

 “Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles. 

“Always wanted to try that.” 

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it. 

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font. 

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?” 

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses. 

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases. 

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly. 

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm. 

“Alani!” Mila beams. 

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music. 

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar. 

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers. 

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer. 

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody 

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody 

With somebody who loves me 

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place. 

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure. 

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck. 

It’s Friday, I’m in love. 

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

[writerofshit]

1 with the lads (michael/gavin/jeremy) please!

(This is less things you said at 1 am and more the lads being fools at 1 am. Id like to think they're one in the same.)

1. Things you said at 1 am

"If you two idiots don't shut the fuck up I'm out of this relationship." Michael's voice floats back to them in a hiss.

"Michael-" Jeremy begins, not sure how he's going to defend the quiet argument they'd been having.

"Micool!" Gavin whispers, almost simultaneously.

"You be quiet, you're not helping." Jeremy says with a firm poke between Gavin's shoulder blades. To be fair, Gavin is blaming this all on Jeremy, which is ludicrous.

"Jack is gonna fuckin kill us." Michael says grimly.

It's a very late Monday night, and the lads are sneaking into the penthouse because they're teenagers again, apparently. The unfortunate part is that somehow, despite being three grown men and successful criminals, they don't have one key among them. They'd attempted to get in via window, but that had proven to be a flawed plan.

"Jack'll be annoyed but just roll her eyes at us. Fiona is gonna murder us if we wake her up." Jeremy says. He's crossing his fingers that she wears earplugs to bed or something. They're making their way back down the fire escape, and somehow he'd wound up in the back.

"Nah, Fiona would never hurt me! We're Team Chungə!" Gavin glances back at him, a bright smile on his face.

"You need to be part of Team Shut The Fuck Up." Michael is in front, climbing down yet another ladder.

"Michael that's not a real team."

"It would be if you would just-"

"Shut the fuck up?" Jeremy supplies, voice dissolving into a quiet giggle at the end. He's trying his best not to lose his cool up here. Heights are not exactly his favorite thing.

"Fuckin thank you, J. You know what, you get to stay." They're about halfway down, and it's not getting any easier.

"You guys are the worst boyfriends ever." Gavin says, and the pout in his voice is clear.

They lapse into a comfortable quiet, just following one another down ladder after ladder. That none of them, there members of the most notorious crew in the city, can't figure out how to pick the lock is astounding. That they couldn't even remember a key might be worse.

"We should've just called Matt, he's probably still up." Gavin says just as they're reaching the third story.

Michael stops just short of the ladder, Gavin and Jeremy stumbling into him immediately. He turns back to stare at Gavin. "Why the fuck didn't you say that when were at the front fuckin door?"

"I didn't think about it til we were already trying the window!"

"Gavin." Jeremy reaches up, puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I love you more than life itself, and I think you have a lot of moments of brilliant clarity-"

"I don't like that you're already backpedaling." Gavin interrupts, voice doubtful.

"But you do realize Matt also could've opened the fucking window, right?"

There's a moment of silence, save for the general noise of Los Santos. Gavin breaks into an embarrassed smile. "Oh. Yeah he probably could have."

"Fuckin oh!" Michael turns back to the ladder, but Jeremy catches the exasperated smile he has. "Idiot." He mutters fondly.

They troop down the rest of the way without incident, and Jeremy calls Matt when they're back in the elevator. There's a bit of grumbling from Matt's end, something about not understanding "how three grown ass men don't have a single key between them." Regardless of his aggravation, he lets them in and the three morons head to Michael's room.

"At least I thought of Matt eventually." Gavin is saying as he launches himself to the middle of the bed. "Jeremy was ready to break down the damn door!"

"Kicking in and breaking down are two very different things, Gav." Jeremy wants it to be clear, just in case Trevor or Geoff should ever catch wind of what almost happened. He settles himself between Gavin and the wall, as per usual.

"Equally dumb though." Michael laughs. He pauses in front of the dresser. "Uh guys?" He starts laughing again. "I have some fucked up news."

"What?" Jeremy asks, kicking off his jeans. Maybe he should've gotten undressed before he laid down, but alas. There's a quiet moment before it dawns on him. "Michael no."

Michael turns around slowly. He's struggling to get the words out between giggles. "So, remember the other day when I stuck my key in my wallet for safe keeping?"

"Michael!." Jeremy cannot believe this has happened.

"Whoops."

"Oh my god!" Gavin says, in what can only be described as a quiet shriek. He rolls toward Jeremy, burying his face in his chest. Just before he makes contact, Jeremy can see tears in his eyes from laughter. "We're so stupid." He mumbles.

"We- we really do belong together, don't we?" Jeremy says, hooking an arm around Gavins waist.

"We almost make one responsible adult." Michael says before clicking off the light and slipping into bed beside Gavin.

"Almost." Jeremy echoes.

"We're not quite there, but if one of us remembered shit? Man, we'd be unstoppable." Michael says with a laugh.

There's a bit of shuffling as they all get comfortable, blankets moved up and down until they're all happy with it. Michael curls himself around Gavin's other side, and they all breathe a sigh of quiet contentment. After a few moments, Jeremy is nearly asleep.

Gavin breaks the quiet one last time. "Guys?" 

"Yeah Gav?" Jeremy keeps his voice pitched low, unsure if Michael is out yet.

"We're dumb."

Jeremy only chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to Gavin's forehead. Truer words have never been spoken. At least they have fun.

[honeyhan-123]

Extra Credit

Summary: Worried about your grades, you approach Professor Barnes, asking for some extra credit. Warnings: Grey!Bucky, Also Silver fox!Bucky, Cuckold, Professor/Student relationship (more like just fucking for grades) dubcon as he’s in a position of power.

Word Count: 2.4k AN: It’s finally here!!!! My celebration for kind of hitting that devil’s number 1666! Fair warning, this is pure filth based on a filthy fantasy I had on the day I realised I reached 1666 so I figured I just had to write it.

My Masterlist

The dismissal, brusk and to the point as always. A simple, ‘read sections 13 through 15 before Monday’s lecture.’ As always, you made sure to jot it down in your planner, taking far too long to write the single sentence as you waited for the class to dwindle out the door.

While having a five pm lecture on a Friday night seemed like a curse most of the time, tonight you were thanking the administrative gods, because for once, there was no one standing by Professor Barnes’ desk coming up with some bogus excuse to spend more time with him.

The short walk to the long wooden desk which had been present in your nighttime fantasies far too often, seemed to stretch on for miles, your nerves fraying further with each step, sweat building up, your skin turning clammy despite the lack of clothes under the beige trench coat. You got to him just as the door swung shut, the last of your peers leaving for the night.

‘Professor Barnes?’ Your voice was timid, a whisper in the large lecture hall, your breath seeming to fail as he looked up at you, his grey-blue eyes piercing through you.

‘Yes?’ His voice was curt, cutting straight to the point just as it did during his lectures.

‘I was uh, I was wondering if I could go over my recent paper with you? The one on Anglo-American relations during the war?’ A murmur from him in agreement as his attention returned to packing his notes into his briefcase.

‘Yes I figured you would. It was far below your usual standard, if I hadn't known better, I would have thought I was reading a highschool paper.’ You tried to keep your smile in place as his words cut through you like knives. While you knew he was right that it wasn’t your usual standard, he was just being unnecessarily harsh. ‘We can continue this discussion in my office if you don’t mind, the cleaners should be here soon and we don’t want to get in their way.’ You nodded, your gaze stuck on the smooth leather of his briefcase, a metal hand picking up the handle, a glint of the gold shining in your eyes as he moved.

Maybe you should just go home.

Yet, instead of listening to your moral compass, you continued on, following his lithe body as he stalked through the halls, leading you to his office. You had been here a few times before, always during office hours as you tried to pick his brain; tried to show off your own knowledge. Unlike every time before, he gestured you to the plush couch below the line of windows, your gaze flickering to his desk uncertainly, but following his instructions nonetheless.

‘Would you like to remove your coat? I have a stand if you’d like.’ You knew he was just being gentlemanly in his offer but something about the way his eyes racked up and down your body made you shiver, he couldn’t possibly know what your plan B was.

‘Thank you but I’m okay for now.’

‘As you wish.’ He sat beside you the couch dipped under his weight as you searched for the paper that had caused your distress. ‘What is it exactly that you would like to talk about in regards to your paper?’

‘Well, I was just wondering what you thought I needed to improve on, your corrections seemed vague and I know it’s a little unheard of but if I were to rewrite it, I was wondering if you would consider boosting my score?’ His eye brows rose into his forehead as you spoke, his lips pursing. ‘It’s just… I heard that you offered the same to Sofia…’ Your voice died down, drifting off as he stared, his eyes seemingly analysing your every move.

‘Well Miss Watterson’s paper was far better, her points more obscure and her topic more niche making her struggle more understandable. But yours… well it would take a lot for me to consider boosting your score. Tell me, why does it matter so badly to you?’ You struggled to compose yourself as he spoke, your heart rate accelerating even further.

‘I’m a scholarship student Professor Barnes, it’s for my academia and while this grade doesn’t exactly put me in danger of losing my scholarship, it means I can’t screw up again and I would far rather not be in that situation.’ The heat crawling up your body, rising to your cheeks, had you itching to ditch the heavy coat but you couldn’t; not yet.

‘That is unfortunate but as I said earlier, it would take a lot for me to boost your grade… but I think you knew that already didn’t you?’ You swallowed, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as his hand drifted down to your knee, the gold band seeming to glow against his metal hand as it rested on your leg. ‘While your paper is helpless, I think we can arrange for some extra credit to help out your grade. What do you say?’ His voice was smooth like honey and there wasn’t a doubt in your mind he could hear your heart frantically beating against your chest.

You nodded and stood from the couch, twirling around and facing him as he sat, his arms stretched wide across the back. Your hands shook as you pulled the belt free, the beige material parting to reveal the red lace hidden beneath. The shaky breath he emitted as you shook the material from your body had arousal flooding through you, his hands reaching out to grab at your scantily clad body.

‘Seems like someone’s been a bad girl.’ He murmured as his hand snuck around your waist, pushing himself up from the couch and rubbing his face against you as he stood. He walked you back to his desk, taking a seat in the high back leather chair as you stood before him. ‘Show me. Show me how much your grade means to you.’ His meaning was obvious, his growing length only made more evident by his legs spreading to either side of you. With one last glance at his face, growing more impatient every second, you sank to your knees your hands drifting to his belt. He raised his hips allowing you to pull his pants down, freeing his pulsing length and just as you were about to lean in, he stopped you.

‘Beg. Beg for it.’

Your doe eyes blinked up at him, inches away from his thick cock standing tall and proud. ‘Please Professor, let me suck your cock.’ The words fueled the growing need in between your thighs but he didn’t seem too impressed.

‘Like you mean it.’ He spat his words, eyeing you with disdain. ‘Don’t think for one moment that I don’t know this is exactly what you want, what you’ve wanted all semester long. I’ve seen the way you dress, how you play with your pen during my lectures, taking it into your mouth and teasing me mercilessly. So beg me for my cock like you mean it.’ Any embarrassment at having been outed for your not so secret crush was swallowed by the insatiable ache that was controlling your every move.

‘Please Professor Barnes, let me suck your cock, let me make you cum, let me treat you like you deserve.’ You hands danced along his bare thighs, trailing closer and closer to the object of your desire. ‘You’ve seemed so tense these past few weeks, I can tell it’s been a while hasn’t it?’ You had no control of the words pouring from your mouth but you knew they were having the intended effect, his breathing becoming shallow, his eyes locked on you.

‘Yeah, it’s been fuckin’ ages. It’s making me so desperate and seeing you in my lectures every week kills me.’

‘I know Professor, but that’s why I’m here, to take care of you like your wife should.’ While your words should have disgusted you, you couldn’t help your body’s innate response. ‘Please let me take care of you.’ Your hand wrapped around his base, slowly moving up to his bulbous tip, flicking over the glistening drops of pre-cum gathering.

‘Yes, fuck yes. Suck me off baby, make me cum.’ You gladly dipped your head, your tongue swirling around his slit before lowering your head, his hand coming to your hair, a vice like grip around the strands. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed, forcing yourself to ignore your gag reflex as you took him. He was far more impressive than any of those other college boys you had been with but you weren’t surprised; a man like him surely would be.

You were sure to run your tongue along the smooth edges of the veins on the underside of his cock, earning a shudder from him. ‘That’s it baby, you feel so fuckin’ good.’ For a man from the forties and a former Avenger, he sure had a mouth on him, but you didn't mind, one hand slipping down your body and over the crotchless panties you wore. You moaned around him as your fingers danced in your slick, swirling over your pearl, giving it some much needed attention.

‘Oh fuck baby, you’re touching yourself aren’t you? So fuckin’ needy.’ You hummed in response, one finger slipping inside as your mouth moved along him, his grip tightening as his immense thighs flexed. ‘Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.’ With no further warning his hips started pistoning into your mouth, his cock seeming to fall halfway down your throat as he moved, keeping your head still.

The room seemed to dance as your need for air increased but he wouldn’t let up, spit was dribbling down your chin as you choked on him. The hand inside you picked up its pace, matching his thrusts as best you could, and soon enough the familiar coil in your belly tightened, the end in sight.

‘That’s it baby, I know your about to fucking cum, do it; do it for me baby.’ Your head was dizzy as your scream was muffled by his cock, the tension releasing from your body as you came with a shudder, stars in your vision and just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled himself from your mouth, giving himself a few hard and fast pumps before he came, ribbons of white landing on your face, coating your lips as a few trailed down to your breasts, dipping between them.

His head was thrown back against the smooth leather as he caught his breath, his hands running through his short hair and down his face, dancing along the beard that coated his jawline. As his gaze returned to you, still kneeling between his legs, you swiped across one of the cooling ropes, sucking it into your mouth and pulling it free with a pop. ‘Fuck baby, you’re going to be the death of me.’ You smiled as innocently as you could with lips coated in cum. ‘C’mon, stand up.’

You obeyed without a second’s hesitation, leaning against the thick oak desk, trapped between his legs. ‘I can’t wait to have you.’ His own hands were trailing down his chest, freeing him of the crisp white shirt, revealing his body to you. Although it had been nearly five years since he had quit the Avengers to come teach history, it was clear he still worked out, his muscles rippled as he fisted his cock, already standing tall and proud once more.

The wood was cool against your bare ass as he tore the three piece set from your body. ‘As much as I enjoyed this, it’s just got to go.’ You moaned as the thick head of his length brushed against your overly sensitive clit, coating itself in your juices before easing into your aching hole. His pace was brutal, punishing, as he thrusted into you, his nails digging into the flesh around your hips as he moved you in time with him.

The obscene squelch emanating from your pussy and the sound of naked flash slapping filled his office, a selection of moans and groans mixed in. ‘That’s it baby, so fuckin’ tight for me aren’t you?’ Your response was a clench of your walls, tightening even further around his cock as his thumb found your pearl.

Just as suddenly as he had entered you, he pulled out, pulling you from the desk and flipping your body around. One hand wrapping around your neck as he pushed you down against the oak, his other guilding himself back to your warm wet entrance. A silent scream left you as you felt him enter, the angle allowing him to go deeper, seeming to hit your uterus with every rut of his hips.

He rubbed you with a ferocity, forcing you within arms’ reach of your orgasm as he chased his own. ‘C’mon baby, cum for me. Show me how much you want this grade.’

The hard wood pressed against your cheek, the carpet rubbing against your toes as he moved. ‘Professor, please, let me cum. Please Professor.’ Your words were like ecstasy to him, his grunt of approval ringing through the office as you came, your toes leaving the ground briefly as your walls fluttered around him, his own orgasm following yours as hot spurts coated your walls.

‘Fuck baby.’ He stepped back, pulling you with him as he sank into his desk chair, his hand wrapping around your torso, feeling every rapid breath you took as you struggled to believe that had just happened. ‘I definitely think you deserve an A+ for Extra Credit. I’ll fix your grade later tonight.’ His arms loosened from around your chest, a clear indication for you to get off his lap. Whether he just wanted you gone or he too had locked eyes with the warm honey brown ones coming from a silver framed photo on his desk you weren’t sure.

‘So I’ll see you on Monday. Don’t forget the reading.’ His dismissal was clear, brusk and to the point. Guilt clawed its way through your post orgasm bliss as you dressed, your hands shaking so badly you could hardly tie the belt in place.

You struggled to find your voice to say anything except ‘Goodnight Professor Barnes,’ as you closed the door to his office behind you, his attention already on the next stack of papers, barely acknowledging your departure but what more could you expect from a married man?

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

My Masterlist

[rue-king]

Family Found, Family Taken

(AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32892439)

Masterlist, Next Part

Summary: Gavin is tired, so tired. He is tired of being the bad guy, but thats just who he is he's mean and unapproachable. He can't be replaced, he just can't, work is all he has left to tie him to this world. It is the only thing that proves he's not as terrible as he feels.

But when the fancy RK900 unit walks in, along with a terrible string of murders, Gavin is pushed backwards. He can't on this way anymore, but he doesn't think he is capable of change.

This is his last chance, he is Gavin's last chance.

Warnings: cursing

Chapter 1:

Gavin Reed is a mess. A walking tragedy. Rough on every edge and totally banged up. From the scar on his nose to the little marks on his knuckles.

If the scruffy appearance and constant 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make it obvious then the darker than night eyebags and shitty attitude certainly does.

He looks rough, but he's not a bad guy, at least not internally. He's a man who feels too much and is easily hurt, but he would rather die than ask for help or express himself. The man has more baggage than an airport.

He’s bitter and cold, almost aloof in demeanor. A rabid dog with a muzzle on at all times, marked “dangerous don’t pet” only by fault of trusting too much.

A stray, left wondering all by his lonely self fulfilling prophecy of isolation.

A grade “A” mess.

He drags his sorry ass to the Detroit Police Station everyday and works himself to the bone because that's all he knows. It’s all he is able to do in order to tune out all the thoughts that he knows will drown him.

Not a team player in the slightest, but he's certainly one of the best detectives the DPD has seen in a long time. Stupidly efficient, his brain makes connections in ways that are unparalleled by his human peers. Too bad no one in the building likes him enough to let him know it.

Another consequence of his own actions, he is an asshole and he knows it. The only person he can call a friend is Tina Chen, but even then he feels as though she could do better. They all can. He is mean and cuts people off, unapproachable and snappy. Truthfully he’s surprised she's still around.

If it wasn’t for Fowler's firm hand he’d practically live in the building, it's not like he takes breaks anyway, but alas he has a shitty apartment with two demon babies to get back to anyway.

Bright and early on a Monday morning the man, the myth, the legend himself walks his groggy ass through the doors of the DPD. The caffeine withdrawal headache already encroaches on his brain and he sports a fresh set of bandages over his abused knuckles.

He keeps his head low and heads straight for the breakroom, aiming to get a cup of the worst coffee Detroit can offer. His reputation around the office has always been less than great, but ever since the android revolution his peers have been walking on eggshells around him.

He doesn’t blame them, it's not like he tried to hide his anti-android sentiment. He huffs quietly to himself, why would he care what those assholes think about him.

He prepares his shitty coffee and walks over to his shitty desk in the shitty bullpen. He’s dramatic like that. He doesn’t bother the anticipatory itch he feels deep in his chest that eggs him on to dive straight back into work. Like a craving, a workaholic.

Days are long and hard now that there has been mass losses in employment and crime skyrocketed. Reed just has to solve it all himself. Masochist.

He sits at his desk reviewing the last notes he took at the scene of his most recent case. Double homicide, suspected breaking and entering, but nothing was stolen.

He hears loud belly laughter come from the entrance of the bullpen, in comes Hank Anderson and his sidekick Conner.

Reed glances at the clock and snorts a bit.

Won’t you look at that, Hank Anderson is early for the first time in about a thousand years.

He shakes his head, and goes back to his notes. Normally he would throw out a rude remark or two, but he simply doesn’t have the energy today so he settles for an eye roll.

He is drop dead tired. Insomnia is a bitch and he hardly has an appetite anymore.

“Good morning Detective” Conner calls in a stupidly cheery tone.

“Fuck off” Gavin mutters back, his words lacking their usual bite. He just sounds defeated, deflated.

Conner hovers for a second longer in front of Gavin's desk. A second longer than usual, too long for Gavin’s liking. He moves his head up to call Conner out, but is met with nothing but air.

Whatever.

Gavin goes back to work, shuffling lightly under his desk. He is focused on nothing. Staring blankly at his own words in front of him, unable to comprehend what he is looking at. His mind is somewhere else, caught between nowhere and here.

He looks away quickly and puts his head in his hands.

Breathe in and out. Just focus, you idiot. Focus.

He rubs his eyes harder as the frustration moves like tides within his chest.

This is an improvement from Gavin Reed, if it were a few months ago he would've just slammed his hands on his desk and stalked off to go smoke. Not that anyone cares enough to know it of course.

He breathes in deep again and sets his mind to try one more time before he swears he’ll scream or something,

“Reed! My office now!” A deep yell calls out, breaking his second of peace. Fowler, of course.

He audibly groans. He hasn’t done anything wrong so why the hell would the captain want to see him.

“Ohhh, someones in trouble~” Tina Chen calls out, she’s barely walking into the area. She’s late, again Starbucks in her hand.

Not surprised.

“Bitch” he retorts, making his way toward Fowler's office. Tina laughs lightly and blows him a mocking kiss. Gavin just rolls his eyes.

Conner and Hank rise from their work stations to start after him.

Oh great, fan-fucking-tabulous. Reed huffs some more.

He opens Fowler's door with a hard swing, his patience slips away from him quickly.

The bad buddy cop flick duo follows behind him closely. Gavin elects to stay standing, way too anxious to sit and just accept whatever shit Fowler will be throwing at him.

Hank takes a seat, the other is already taken by Conner.

He does a double take, Conner is right next to him. Two Conners?

The not Conner turns a fraction.

“The fuck is this” Gavin questions and recieves a scathing look from Fowler.

Conner shuffles quietly next to him, the movement capturing his eye as it always does. Why does he look anxious, the fuck is wrong with him.

“Reed shut up and let me speak before you go butting in, '' Fowler dictates before continuing on, “this is RK900 and he will be assigned as your new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t do partners, you know this Fowler. What makes you think I need one, much less that tin can.” Reed is quick to anger, well at least he has some energy now.

Has he not been efficient enough on his own? Fowler can’t just give him some pity babysitter to fix him up like Conner did with Hank.

“You do what I tell you to do, Reed. He is top of the line and you, annoyingly enough, have the best solve rates as of now. So he goes to you.” Fowler is strong with his statements and doesn’t leave room for arguing. Which doesn’t stop Gavin.

“What the fuck! That should mean that I don't need the help of that asshole! Dump him on someone else, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well you better make it make sense or else you can hand your badge over, Detective.” Gavin clenches his jaw, his eyes lit with anger.

“You don’t get any special privileges Reed, especially with your disciplinary file.”

Gavin huffs again shaking his head. “Well that doesn’t explain why these two are here” he gestures to Hank and Conner wildly with his hands. He treads more lightly with his words, he’s an idiot and a dick, but he will not lose his job over something as stupid as this.

“I asked them here in case you reacted poorly to this decision, much like you did” Fowler draws.

Yeah, yeah he's disappointed, when is he not.

“Yeah, quite the show you put on there, Reed” Hank mocks.

Go back to playing house, Hank.

Reed fumes, grinding his teeth. He could be so much meaner, but he holds back. All the energy that the anger gave him rapidly left his body and he’s left with tired resentment. A cold emptiness that leaves him chilly and lacking the will to continue fighting back.

“Are we done here?” He asks in a low tone, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Well yes-”

It doesn’t matter what came after that, Reed saw the green light to leave.

“He‘s not well, Lieutenant”

“Conner it’s…”

He walks faster, escaping the muffled voices.

He sits back at his desk and grabs for his coffee. Empty already, great. He goes to make another cup, desperately wanting to get his mind off of the shitstorm that just happened.

Every other partner Reed has ever had did not last, they just couldn’t tolerate his shitty attitude. Essentially he ran them all off, like nannys to a terrible toddler.

This one will be no different, android or not, no one can put up with him for long. At least that's how Reed reassures himself.

Before he knows it he’s back at his desk, hot coffee in his hand and an absurdly tall knock off Conner in his way.

“The fuck out of the way, tin can” Gavin grumbles not even looking up to meet RK900’s eyes.

He doesn’t move.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Are you deaf, asshole?”

He moves a fraction, and Gavin takes it with a slight shoulder check to get to his seat.

Stupid not-Conner and his ugly fucking white jacket. Was gray not terrible enough?

Another small huff to himself. He’s been doing that more and more today.

He goes back to his notes. 5 minutes has passed and not-Conner continues to stand unmoving in front of Gavin’s desk.

He tries to ignore it, but he can’t stand seeing the stark white shadow in his peripheral vision. Looming like a cage starting to close in.

“Can you not just fuckin stand there like a freak?” Gavin snaps, finally looking the RK unit in the face.

Maybe he isn’t like Connor. RK is sharp and cold with defined cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Connor is warm in demeanor and soft where RK seems impenetrable and well…  intimidating.

“I am assuming that that empty desk is mine to use?”

Even his voice is different, this one is firm and lower in pitch compared to Connor’s.

Reed lags behind a beat, taking in all the information he can from what's before him. RKs suit is clean and pressed, untouched by the qualms of living. He looks shiny and brand new, but the disdain in his eyes says otherwise.

His posture is stiff and the collar on his neck more so, making RK look down with his eyes and a miniature head tilt. It makes him look condescending, physically and metaphorically looking down on him.

Gavin curls his lip, dislike drags within him. “If it gets you to fuck off than yeah, knock yourself out, tincan.”

An hour or two, or three, passes. Gavin manages to transfer his written reports onto his terminal. Using the work to blissfully tune out the presence to his right. RK900 staring blankly at the terminal with a flashing yellow light circling at his temple.

Gavin has so many questions swirling around his head, but has too big of a pride to ask them. Asking would mean being civil and he is NOT going to do that. Instead he’s elected to just simply pretend that his brand new partner doesn’t exist at all. That's all he can manage with the lack of energy he has at the moment.

Besides, it's not like his fancy new plastic counterpart is aching to talk to him anyway. He just sits there with his perfect posture in perfect silence. For once Gavin is thankful for his ability to just fall into his work, because it provides the perfect distraction.

(stay tuned for the next chapter!)

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - You Like Making Me Wait For It

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be done for Valentine’s day but uhhh, about that... So here it is, almost a month late. The premise for this story is that Jimmy is actually a BIG FUCKIN’ SOFTIE and not the sarcastic little shit that I constantly make him out to be. This can be proven by the attached tweet. As always this is fiction, so don’t get carried awayyyy :) 

“It’s not a real holiday,” he texts his mom, in regards to her message to him, bright and early, on February 14. He follows it up with a heart emoji and tells her he'll see her tonight though, because she’s his ma and he’s not a complete mutant, but he pulls the blanket over his head and rolls onto his side and tries to fall into the warm feeling of sleep again. 

As cool and standoffish as Jimmy tries to come off, everyone who knows him would jump at the chance to tell you that in reality, he’s soft as shit. A quick scroll through his recently played on Spotify would give him right up if he tried to deny it. 

His icy indifference to Valentine’s day was never the norm. He used to look forward to it, liked it even, but after years of disappointment the shine has worn off and he's really had enough of it. 

_____

His first Valentine’s memory is fond. He put on his best clothes and walked into school, chest puffed out and chin raised proudly, the little red and pink valentines he worked on with his mom tucked away in his backpack, heart-shaped lollipops carefully taped onto each one. 

He didn’t understand the point of it until his mom patiently explained to him, “Sometimes we’re so busy everyday that we don’t tell people we love them like we should, so on Valentine’s day we spend the whole day letting everyone know we care about them.” He snaked his little arms around her waist and promised his mom he’d never be too busy to remind her he loves her. 

She hugged him back tightly and brushed away a stray tear on her cheek before she opened up the box and had him start listing off the kids names in his class so she could neatly write them on each card. He spends his time taping the lollipops gently to the cards that declare “Have a sweet Valentine’s Day.” 

As the class walked around dropping a card into each other’s decorated shoe-boxes, Jimmy couldn’t help but be filled with love for his friends. Tipping over the box afterwards, he was a little glum when he found out Tommy was the sole recipient of a card from Ashley, the pretty blonde with pigtails who sat 3 seats in front of him. 

When he walked home from the bus stop with Jess later, they talked about their favorite ones, in particular the heart shaped erasers the teacher gifted each of them. She didn’t get a card from Ashley either. His mom told him not to worry about it and quickly diverted his attention to the pile of valentines with pencils and stickers attached, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as he explained who each one was from. 

_____

In highschool Valentine's day is marked (like everything else during those awkward teenage years) by a rush of hormones and snickers. 

The week leading up to Valentine's day the cheerleading squad hung signs up all over the halls detailing how to purchase a rose to be delivered to the person of your choosing during classes. All of the proceeds go to a local charity, so each morning the voice over the speaker reminded the student body to buy a rose for a good cause before listing off the lunch of the day and signing off. 

Jimmy fills out a few; a pink one for his little cousin a few grades down from him, a yellow one for the librarian who helped him submit his college applications, and an orange one for Jess who just got a rejection letter from Duke and could use some cheering up. 

On the 13th he finds himself with $2 extra dollars and some time to kill before Jess is done with extra help and ready to walk home. He goes to the office and fills out a slip for a red rose to be delivered to Molly, a girl he's helped in Chinese class a few times; she's popular and cute. He can't help his heart from quickening when they go over characters that have been giving her a particularly hard time during the spare period they share once a week. 

He writes her name clearly in black ink, trying his best to keep his penmanship even and neat. 

"There you are!" He jumps, but luckily his pen is off of the paper, having just finished scribing the Y in his name. Jess walks up to him, braids trapped under her backpack straps; it looks uncomfortable. "I've been looking everywhere for you, dude." 

He slides the scrap of paper into the slot of the box in front of him. "Sorry, last minute love, you know how it is." 

He feels his cheeks get warm at the thought of Jess catching him in the act. She is much more pragmatic when it comes to love. She hasn’t dated at all in high school, laser focused on her grades and soccer. He knows she thinks he’s a sap for caring at all when it’s unlikely anyone will find lifelong love in high school, but he's a romantic, sue him.

"Yeah, I know. You're a sucker for this stupid holiday," she rolls her eyes at him and adjusts her bookbag, swinging the tails of her braids free. He shrugs a shoulder but smiles, because she’s right and he can’t deny it. 

“C’mon Romeo, my mom said she’d pick us up out front, it’s freezing today.” He follows her, excited about the prospect of tomorrow. He’s not sure, but he thinks Molly may feel the same way, and there’s no time like the present to find out. 

_____

When he quietly places his lunch tray down next to Jess she knows something is off. He usually bounds over to the table, chatty and excited to talk about his morning classes and who said what stupid thing that made the class groan, but he’s downright meloncholy and she can feel it roll off his body in waves. 

Jess twirls the stem of her orange rose between her pointer and index fingers, “Thanks Jim. Made my day.” She bops him on the head with the flower. He smiles a little but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Rough day?” He nods and starts picking at the crust of his pizza. 

“I didn’t sign my fucking last name.” Jess doesn’t quite understand, so she kicks him under the table to get him to look up from his pizza and make eye contact. She raises her eyebrows in question and he finally continues, “I sent Molly a rose.”

Jess hums for him to keep going, she heard a rumor going around about Molly and James Jordan getting together, but she hadn’t heard anything about Jimmy. 

“We study together every week. Chinese. She has a hard time with the-" he waves his hand to clear the subject, "anyway it’s not important. We have a free period together every Tuesday and I help her with it. I thought maybe she noticed.” Jimmy sighs and squishes his water bottle in his hand, “You know I get nervous around her, so I thought maybe she knew. Anyway, I sent her a flower, but I just wrote ‘Jimmy.' No last name. She thought it was Jordan and she walked right up to him in between classes and kissed him. They have a date Saturday night.”

Jess winces, “That blows. I’m sorry, Jim. Maybe it’s not meant to be for a reason. I heard that she…" she pauses because she's never actually heard anything bad about the other girl, but desperately wants to cheer up her friend. "I heard that she… snores?" Jimmy finally rolls his eyes and laughs. 

"Oh yeah, cross her off the list. That's a deal breaker." He smiles for the first time in hours and he's sure Molly isn't the one he's been waiting for. 

_____

In college his fervor to have a nice Valentine’s day led him to ask out the brunette from his Public Finance class, she said yes and seemed excited, but then text him to cancel 2 days before that she "forgot about a big paper that's due on Monday." His buddy John is in the same class and didn’t say anything about a paper, so Jimmy takes the hint and decides to go home for the weekend, tail between his legs and heart heavy from the rejection

He heads to the laundromat with a veritable sack filled with, what feels like, every piece of clothing he's ever owned, downtrodden and pissed off. He's loading his clothes into the machine when someone jabs him in the side with a boney digit. 

"What the hell are you doing, Jim?" Jess beams up at him. She's wearing pink lipstick, but is otherwise dressed in all black, like always. 

“Laundry. My mom had too many loads at the house ‘cuz Nolan brought his home too, so I’m just going to do it here quick.” He keeps shoving his clothes in the washer machine.

Jess nods at him, “Cool… cool. So, your mom still does your laundry?” She shoves her hands deep into the front pockets of her jeans and leans back on her heels with a shit eating grin.

Jimmy stops and looks up at her, “Uh, usually. Yeah, why? Can you tell?” He stands up, back sore from being hunched over the front-loading washing machine. She looks up at him and grins wider. 

“You’re supposed to separate the colors. Let me help you.” She starts pulling all of his clothes out of the washer and dumping it into her orange pop-up hamper. “Come over here, I’m using this machine.” 

“Why are you here,” he attempts gentle conversation since, apparently, he’s domestically useless. Jess opens a machine and starts pulling out all of his light colored clothes, basically pairs and pairs of socks and a few t-shirts here and there. 

“My stupid comforter is too big. It takes forever at my house, so I just bring it here instead of drying it 6 times,” she pauses,  pinching a lone sock and holding it out in front of her swinging it in his direction before throwing it in the washer, “lucky for you, James.” She helps him sort the other colors and shows him where the detergent goes and lends him some fabric softener that smells nice, she even advises him against washing his suit pants and the one nice sweater he owns, saying that he’d be better off dry cleaning them. 

An hour later when their stuff is all folded and packed back up, he’s got no other plans and he hasn’t seen Jess since the summer, so he helps her bring her comforter and sheets to her car and stands there awkwardly trying not to make this weird. 

“Jessie,” she turns around, scarf half wound around her neck, death glare pinned on him. 

“Did you want me to kill you? Don't call me that,” she swats at him and opens her trunk so he can drop her cottony smelling bedding in it. 

“Let me buy you dinner, this was really nice of you to help me.” She smiles and agrees without any cajoling. 

“Oh god, yes. I’m starving. Chipotle?” There’s a reason they’ve been friends for so long. 

They order and he pays while she fills up their cups and finds an empty booth. When he drops the trays down on the table and slides her the burrito she ordered, he smiles and reaches his hand across the table, “Jessie, will you be my Valentine?” 

She rolls her eyes, but it’s warm and laced with affection when she kicks him under the table, “You fucking sap. You’re lucky you bought me food or I’d say no.” She takes a bite and chews, but Jimmy keeps needling. 

“So you’re saying the way to your heart is through your stomach.” He nods, “Noted.” 

They chat over dinner, discussing college and what people from high school are up to. She’s in an accelerated program at BC and should graduate a year early. He’s reserved, but hoping to get drafted. 

It’s not long after they're done, still taking up space in the booth, when his mom calls, “Hey ma.” Jess mouths ‘tell her I said hi!’ and gets up to throw away their garbage and heads to the ladies room. 

“Jess said to tell you hi,” it’s barely out of his mouth before he regrets it. 

“You’re out with Jess. On Valentine’s day?” Her tone is accusing, but soft. “I always liked her. I didn’t realize you were seeing each other. You don’t tell me anything anymore.” Before she can get too deep in her pity party he stops her.

“It’s not like that. We just ran into each other, we didn’t plan anything” Jimmy scratches at a scuff on the table, wishing he just waited until he got home to have this conversation. The last thing he’d want to do is make Jess uncomfortable with this. His mom prattles on about how she’s always liked Jessica from down the block, but Jimmy mostly tunes it out. It’s not until she’s walking back to the table, smiling softly at him that he rushes his mom off the phone the best he can.

“I’ll tell her you said hi. I’ll be home soon, see you, love you, bye!” He hangs up before she can get a word in.

Jess plops down across from him, “Did you tell her I said hi? I love your mom.” He assures her he did, and stands up, stretching. 

“We should get going,” he grabs his keys off of the table, and Jess stands too and follows him out to their cars. 

“Thanks, Valentine,” she unexpectedly hugs him around the middle. “I usually hate this fucking day, but you made it pretty bearable.” 

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him; she’s such a pessimist. “Yeah, I get that a lot after dates. Bearable.” 

His heart stutters when he realizes what he said, his hands get clammy. He feels dumb, hanging up on his mom so she didn’t make Jess feel like tonight was anything that they didn’t intend it to be, and then he sticks his foot straight into his stupid mouth.

Jess doesn’t flinch though and just follows him out the door to their cars. “See ya later, Jim. Don’t be a stranger. Cambridge isn’t that far, yeah?”

He laughs and hugs her goodbye again before getting in his own car and driving home. 

When he unlocks the front door his mother is on him like a hawk. “Where’s Jessica? Why didn’t you bring her here? I just love that girl.” He has to remind himself to calm down before he opens his mouth, because she means well and loves him. 

“She had some stuff to do, but she said hi,” he grabs a cookie off of a plate cooling on the countertop and prays his mom doesn’t need to go out, lest she catch sight of Jess’ car in her driveway and ruin his lie.

She takes his half eaten cookie from his hand and takes a bite, chewing slowly. “What you’re saying is that I shouldn’t get my hopes up,” before she pins him with a glare only a mother could muster. 

“Still single, ma.” He grabs a cookie in each hand and hustles up the stairs to his room before she can pepper him with more questions. 

He lies on his bed and flips on his tv, clicking channel to channel until he finds a hockey game that will keep his attention. By the end of the 2nd, the Bruins are up 4-1 over the Leafs and he mutes the intermission report to scroll through twitter uninterrupted. 

His timeline is filled with photo after photo of happy couples and gushing declarations of love. He can’t help but sigh and be a little jealous. After watching the rest of the beating Boston lays on Toronto, he shuts the TV off and lies awake, staring at his ceiling. The jealousy has faded, and now he’s just a little sad, slightly disappointed, with a pinch discouraged mixed in. 

He’d blame his next action on hopelessly romantic desperation as he opens Twitter back up and drafts his tweet. 

Spending another Valentine's day without having found “the one.” Hope she is out there somewhere safe and sound.

Jimmy taps the button to send the tweet and rolls over onto his side before the day catches up to him and he falls into a mostly dreamless sleep. 

_____

 Valentine’s day as a Ranger finds him alone in the city once more, begrudgingly texting his mother back and pretending this holiday doesn't make him feel like Steven fucking Glansberg. 

At least he's back in Boston tonight, starting  an away stretch down the eastern seaboard. He has two whole days to spend with his friends and family in his home state before the game against the Bruins and before they leave for Carolina and two more down in Florida. 

He takes his parents out for dinner soon after he lands, and then hits up a few friends to go to the bar. They’re all happy to hear from him, but only Tommy can come out, everyone else is busy with their girlfriends. He can’t blame them. He’d rather be courting a pretty girl than third-wheeling with his parents, but he’s not there yet in his life, so a few beers with Tommy will have to do.

They’re chatting through their second round of Guinness and watching the basketball game when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He leaves it, the game is getting good and it’s almost the half. A three-pointer closes it out and Tommy excuses himself for the bathroom, so Jimmy signals the bartender for two more and finally pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Jess: Jimmmmmmmmm

He smiles in spite of himself. 

What’s up Jessie?

But then Tommy comes back from the bathroom and he puts the phone back into his pocket, because he’s a good bro and that’s rude. 

He almost forgets about it, laughing with Tommy through the rest of the game and catching up with a few kids from the neighborhood that walk into the bar and spot him, but then he takes his phone out to order an Uber and he sees the notifications. 

4 unread texts from Jess

He orders the Uber after putting in Tommy's address as the first stop and his parent's home as the second before he swipes back over to his texts. 

Jess: I'm at a galrnyinrd day party

Jess: Galrntinrd*

Jess: GALENTINES******* 

We were playing text or delete and I didn't want to delete you 😭

She's obviously had a few. Jess was never one for overt emotion. But it's always fun getting it out of her, so he hopes she hasn't sobered up in the hour that's passed since she text him last. He climbs into the Uber after Tommy and types out a careful message to her. Eyes struggling to focus since he had a few beers himself. 

Didn't know you cared, Jessie. 

He finally looks up and says goodbye to Tommy with a handshake that turns into a hug when the car comes to a stop, before settling back into the backseat for the rest of the ride to his childhood home. 

He doesn't get another message from her until the driver stops at the final destination and wishes him a good night. Jimmy leaves a tip when the app pops up asking for a review and sits on his front steps in the cool night air, trying to sober up before he walks inside and wakes the whole house up. 

Jess: You're a big dummy. 

The message is quickly followed by another. 

Jess: When are you coming home next? 

Jimmy doesn't know what to say to that, so he stands up next to his house number and snaps a selfie before sending it off to Jess. 

Jess: 👀👀👀👀

Jess: I'm walking to you now

He hears her front door slam from 6 houses away in the quiet stillness of the late night. The next thing he hears echoing are her giggles followed by heavy footsteps as she runs over to him. 

"I misssssed you." She's a little tipsy still, he can tell by how tightly she wraps her arms around him. 

"Missed you too, Jessie," he winds his arms around her too. She buries her face in his chest and he can feel her cold nose through his shirt. 

"Let's go hangout in the basement. It's freezing out here," he unlocks the front door with his Patriots key, the same one he's had since middle school; the paint chipping with use over the years. 

When they walk through his mom's kitchen, she opens the fridge and grabs two water bottles before following him down the steps to the basement where they'd spent much of their youth watching movies, doing homework, and playing Mario Kart. He feels calm and at home here, sunken into the old couch with her by his side. 

"So, Galentine's?" He swipes one of the water bottles from her and takes a sip before switching on the TV to whatever is on TBS, it looks like The Notebook.

"Don't make fun. It's a nice excuse to drink some wine and have a good night with your friends." She sniffs haughtily.

"Yeah, yeah. Any excuse to drink and gossip," he's just picking on her a little. It's what they do.

She swigs her water and looks at him with a little distaste coloring her face. "Stop acting like you and Tom didn't do the same thing earlier; I saw his insta story." 

Her eyes open wider as she realizes what she said, and he's a little taken aback. If she saw Tommy's story, that means...

"So you knew I was home?" He presses his knee against hers on the couch.

She looks anywhere but at him, finally focusing her attention to the water bottle in her hand- unscrewing and re-screwing the cap back on. 

"I mean..." She rolls her eyes in that careless way she has about her, and he notices her sweater is pink, as are the socks peeking out of the tops of her boots. "Kinda." He feels her move imperceivably closer into his side.

He can't help the smile taking over his face, "You just wanted to spend Valentine's day watching chick flicks with me, you can say it." 

"Shut up," she hits him with a pillow, firm across his chest. "Maybe."

It's the closest he's ever gotten to a mushy declaration from her and it warms him up. "You're an ice queen," he wheedles gently, wrapping his arm up and over her shoulders along the back of the couch. 

She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder, he's happy to sit here watching Noah hang from the ferris wheel, just like this, but Jess is apparently not.

"Not feeling so icy right now," she whispers, so low he's not sure if he imagined it, but then she's right up in his ear, "Feeling a little warm, actually."

She places her hand flat on his chest and sucks gently on the skin under his ear behind the tendon in his neck and he's feeling a little warm too, as a matter of fact. 

"Jess," she doesn't pause at the sound of her name, "Jessie," he pushes, a little more firm, he can't bear to physically remove her because it feels too good, but he's just, not sure she wants this.

"Jimmy," it's mumbled against his neck, and she barely pauses sucking into his skin to pant out his name. 

"You don't really…" he stutters, not sure how to go about this. "Are you sure you…" She bites gently at his neck and he can't help the groan that leaves his lips, "Jesus Christ, stop that for one second. I can't think straight when you do that."

 He gently pushes her shoulder to give himself room to breathe and collect his thoughts, but when he looks over at her she looks downright chagrined. 

"I'll just… go," she starts to stand up and he grabs her wrist and pulls her back down to the couch. 

"No you don't." She falls to the couch ungracefully next to him, red in the face and eyes glassy. "What the hell is this about, Jess. You can't just do… that and then leave without a word." 

"Don't make me say it." Jess looks down at her hands. Her face gets impossibly redder and Jimmy is sure he's going to like this next part very much. 

"Gotta tell me your feelings, Jessie." She refuses to look at his face and he can't stop the grin from forming. 

Deciding to put her out of her misery, he nuzzles his nose against her neck, gently exhaling into the sensitive skin there. 

"You… I… ugh!" She grasps at the back of his head and tilts her own to give him better access, but he refuses to take the bait until she says it. 

"Say it," he whispers, pulling away just enough so his lips don't graze her skin. 

He can feel the sigh she releases before she steels her body, spine going straight and takes a deep breath. 

"I want nothing more than to watch cheesy chick flicks with you. Both on Valentine's day and every other single day of the year. You're the only person that has ever made this day worthwhile and I…" 

He's not sure how the sentence was supposed to end, because he's so proud of her that he can't wait and stops her mid-sentence with a kiss on her mouth. 

She doesn't really have much to say after that, and he knows she's not great with feelings, so he's just being merciful.

_____

Mrs. Vesey makes her way down into the basement on February 15th, a basket of laundry propped up against her hip. She screams once, startled by the unexpected lump she finds on the couch in what she thought was an empty basement. 

She screams a second time when she realizes who spent the night. 

Jimmy could have done without either.

[malethirsty]

Male Crow Eater - Chibs Telford

Summary: Fucking powerful men has taken you far in SAMCRO, but it takes a Scotsman to show you life as a Crow Eater doesn’t have to be sour and sweaty, it can be sweet and sugary as well.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Daddy Kink

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/malethirst/status/1201782075163996160?s=21

You had settled into your position of Crow Eater very well, having fucked SAMCRO’s President, his best friend & his Sergent At Arms also following up, now all that was left was the Vice President. As luck would have it, you had a thing for accents, so the Scotsman made you very hot under the collar, so when he set you in a motel area for an evening, excitement practically overwhelmed you, especially when you were told you’d be free of charge for the night “How on Earth did he get that for me?” You asked out loud in the clubhouse as Chibs got ready at home “Figure it as your payment for our mattinee for SAMCRO Cinema.” Tig said, which caused the room to burst out laughing, it seemed so chaotic what had been going down with you and SAMCRO but sex with Jax, Opie, Tig & Clay had flowed so perfectly, you hoped you had the same connection with Chibs.

You readied yourself as well, taking your iPhone and speakers along with you, planning a rather sensual night in at first. You made sure to text the group when you left so that Chibs could have a few extra minutes to brush up, it wasn’t that often he donned fancy hair stuff and dressed up. After travelling for a while, you came across Charming Motel, and parking, made your way up to reception “Hello I’m Y/N, I believe Mr. Telford checked me in for a room with him.” The lady at the desk poured over her books “Room #9 is the one, you’re in until Monday morning.” She said crisply, holding out one key, the other reserved for Chibs “Thank you very much.” You responded, taking it and making your way down the walkway, finding Room #9 and letting yourself in. It was a neutral sort of room, bed tucked in one corner, a luggage area, a cooking area and a bathroom tucked round the side. You unpacked, setting the iPhone audio up on the bedside table, you sat on the bed dressed up in a Dressing Gown and waited for your Leather Clad Biker to swoop in.

Less than half an hour trailed by when you heard the door open, you turned your head to see Chibs walking through it, leather kutte and all “Hey darlin’” he greeted you “Well hello Chibs, I thought you were doing fancy dress tonight?” He shrugged “Couldn’t work out how the fucking suit went, so I tossed it in the bag.” he gestured to his luggage which he parked with yours “Maybe you could help me get it on so we can go out for the evening or something.” You nodded “That should be fine. Speaking of which, are you sure about paying for everything I’m buying? Isn’t that gonna cause a dip in the club?” Chibs sat across from you “Not at all sweet thing, we’re happy to spend it on you, you’ve taken such good care of us, and in turn, we look out for you, make love to you, make you cum for us, and taking our load all you have to do to make us happy, make me happy.” He finished the last part of his declaration with a lustful tone in his voice, he must have been preparing himself weeks on end for this.

“Well then, I have one request.” You said, steadying yourself up, Chibs cocked his head “Remember the whole Erotica era Madonna put out?” “Aye” Chibs acknoledged “I stumbled across it this week and thought Erotica would be good to put on while we do foreplay.” “Not the entire fucking album, I won’t do foreplay for over a fucking hour, my cock will fucking explode!” Hearing Chibs swear in his delectable accent was hot as you began to laugh “No Chibs, only the title track, it’s five minutes at best and gives you time to warm me up, stoke the beast before you unleash yourself onto me.” “Goddamn, you want me to fuck you like an animal eh?” “I don’t want you to do anything, I only want you to cum in me, anyway you like.” You sent back to him “Fucking hell I’m rock solid, Y/N get that damn song on before I tear your gown off and go to town on ye.” Grinning, you activated your phone, quickly connecting the speakers whilst seeking out the song at the same time, as much as you wanted to tempt Chibs, you also wanted him deep inside you. Finding it quickly, you made sure everything was on and connected, you switched on the song and as the synth began you crossed back over to the bed and spread yourself down, releasing the robe and letting it fall beneath you “Claim me Fillip, I’m yours.” Was all you had to say for the biker to make his way over to you, marvelling at your form as he took your lips into a deep kiss. Whisky was the one defining taste you experiences as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, entangling you both together, hands trailing over your sides, stimulating you, he started to make his way down, his beard trailing over you roughly.

He moved to your neck, leaving nips and bites along with his kisses “Gonna leave hickeys on ye, so everyone can see. Fuck Y/N, you are intoxicating!” Once he was done there, he moved to your nipples, sinking his teeth into one & stimulating the other with his right hand, causing moans to fall from your mouth as Chibs had his way “Oh f-fuck Chibs, Yes! Keep going!” He swapped position, attending to your right nipple with his teeth, your left with his hand, causing your head to fall back, breathless as Chibs continued his trip down. He soon reached your cock and balls “Spread your legs.” He commanded and you obeyed, streching them over Chibs head, before gripping them around his head and flipping over so you were now on top, Chibs moved swiftly up the bed so you both locked eyes “If you’re going to finger me, at least let me give you something in return.” You told him as you descended upon his cock, a moan falling from Chibs mouth “That’s it Y/N, suck my cock deep, wrap your lips round it, slobber all around it, get it wet.” Like a good Crow Eater, you obeyed the instructions, your ass sticking out in Chibs face “Beautiful arse.” He growled before slapping it, causing you to moan round his cock “Oh that’s nice, so good. Keep doing that Y/N. Oh Fuck yeah baby boy, worship daddy” He moaned out as he spat into his hand, spreading it to his fingers, slowly working one in. The vibrations that went through his cock at your moaning reaction was enough to make him buck desperately, he worked a second finger in and began to stretch you “Fuck your walls are tight round my fingers, you’re gonna love it when I shove my cock into ye, you’ll clench around it, plead for more and I’ll give it, all I can give and more, anything to make you cry out as I fuck you so damn hard.” You pulled off his cock, drawing in a massive breath before you descended to suck his balls, making Chibs groan even louder “Fuck, that’s fuckin fantastic! My ol lady never did that for me, Oh! Oh God, I need more Y/N, keep going!” Chibs head fell back as he got a better view as he worked your ass open, moving his fingers around desperately attempting to find your prostate, as you moved onto his other ball. Eventually your hole clenched around Chibs’s fingers as you let out a moan “I’ve found it now, and if that’s how you react to my fingers, then when I hit you with my dick, you’ll be begging for more, in fact we may never leave this room again.” Chibs’s dirty intent made you blush as the song finally finished “At fucking last.” He growled pulling his fingers from you and dragged you to where he was “Now it’s my turn.” He growled, pure lustful passion in his eyes as he spread your legs wide and thrusted his cock deep into your ass your cries mingling with Chibs gasp as your walls tightened around his sensitive cock “Oh this is gonna be good” he said, a gleam in his eyes.

He began to buck into you, setting a rough yet smooth pace. You gripped your hands in his hair as you kissed passionately, eventually drawing your mouth away to lick at his moustache and up his cheek “Fuck, you’re so hot Y/N.” “There’s more where that came from” you told him as you now started to lick his Glasgow Smile scars aligned on the side of his mouth, he rewarded you with an extra sharp pound, sending ripples of ecstasy through you “Oh Chibs! More, Fuck me sir! Fuck me so damn hard!” You cried out, Chibs doing exactly as you asked “Yeah you like daddy fucking you don’t you slut?, love your daddy all horny and dicking you down like you deserve after a long day?” “Yes.” You gasped out, Chibs’s piston hips robbing you of breath “Louder” he growled, slamming in balls deep that the sound of Chibs’s balls slapping against your ass reverberated around the room “YES! FUCK ME CHIBS, FUCK ME SO FUCKING HARD!” Chibs laughed down at you and increased his pace his groans and moans mixing with yours to create quite an erotic sound.

Suddenly he again twisted you around so now you were on top of him “Ride me” he growled out, his sexy accent only adding to the bubbling lustful tension. “Ride me so fucking hard so that when you fuck all the other bikers, you’ll remember how big my cock was in your arse.” Your intent perfectly clear, you resumed Chibs’s previous pace, being stretched out ever further as Chibs’s cock sunk deeper, hitting your prostate now with sharper precision. All that arose from you for a good solid while were wanton moans as Chibs assisted you in riding him, starting up at you with such desire and wonder in his eyes “Oh fuck Y/N, you’re taking it so damn well! You love how my dick fucks your arse?” “Yes Fillip, your cock is perfect, fucking amazing!” “F-Fuck. Go faster, you deserve this dick fucking you so hard.” He growled out in response to your praises and once again, you obeyed without question, the headboard now slamming into the wall as Chibs took you deep.

He took your head in his hands and licked over where you had mapped out his scars. “Now you have a Glasgow Smile as well Y/N, we’re bound by my scar.” You grinned at Chibs “I think I can map out where you’ve been pierced other than your face.” As you trailed down Chibs looked confused “What the hell do you-Oh fuck!” Chibs’s question was stopped with a breathy groan as you licked all over his chest tattoo of a money note, while your hands trailed up and down his arm tatts “Fuck yeah! You like my tattoos Y/N?” “Yes Chibs, I love how dark they are, like I’m safe whenever I’m with you.” “Damn right you are, if anyone ever tried to hurt ya, I’d kill em in cold blood, then I’d fuck ya, with their blood all over us, and you’d moan and cry like a whimpering whore, cause thats how you are in bed, so needy for my cock to fuck you so damn good. You want it, ya got it.”

The end was fast approaching for the both of you, you were both able to tell from the fact his toes were curling and you were shaking “You gonna cum Y/N?” You nodded “Aye, I’m in the same boat with ya.” He grabbed your cock & began to stroke it, causing you to moan even louder “Shoot your load all over me Y/N, do it!” With one final moan of satisfaction, you shot all over Chibs “Fuck, you’re eager as shite.” He groaned out before flipping you over again “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in ya, shoot my load in ya tight fucking arse, and you’re gonna fucking love it!” “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You returned, causing Chibs to growl out “Good. Fuck Y/N, this is the best sex I’ve ever had, TAKE MY CUM!” He bellowed the last part as he shot deep into your ass, with a string of cursewords falling from his mouth as he collapsed onto the bed.

You looked over at Chibs, grinning as you did so, “I don’t think we’re leaving the room this weekend” Chibs grinned back, responding in a lustful tone “No Darlin, I don’t think we will” 

[agapaic]

tianshan / guess who i met on the street today~

19. (MATURE)

It’s a slow night, the house full—doors slamming and feet treading up the stairs, laughter drifting in-and-out while they wait for last-minute appointments—and Guan Shan has an 8pm slot pencilled in. A man in his forties, dinner at Baodu Feng, maybe a blowjob in the back of the car if Guan Shan’s feeling lively enough for a tip. It’s their usual rendezvous—Guan Shan a dewy youth at Hsien Yu’s side, a leather booth for two, a plate of sticky rice and tripe to share. He’s pressing aftershave beneath his shirt collar when Jian Yi slips into his bedroom.

‘Guess who I met on the street today,’ he croons, flopping onto Guan Shan’s bed, head propped behind his hands, eyes smugly on the low ceiling. A floor lamp in the corner of the room tinges his white hair yellow, and tonight he wears tight jeans and a sequined purple jumper to match the fake amethyst gemstone in his right earlobe.

Guan Shan grunts and moves over to his dresser, rifling for a clean tie in the drawers to match his paisley shirt. ‘Don’t care.’

‘Oh, I think you do.'

'Trust me,' Guan Shan counters impatiently. 'If it comes outta your mouth, I don't.'

'Too cruel, Red,' Jian Yi pouts. 'Maybe I won't tell you about Mr Talk, Dark, and Disgustingly Rich.'

Guan Shan rifling pauses. 'The thousand yuan tip guy?'

Jian Yi's expression is pointed and pleased, a dog who's caught the stick in its mouth. 'And you said you didn't care.'

'I don't,' Guan Shan says. 'I have an 8pm appointment. Real work.'

'Real blowjobs,' remarks Jian Yi, mouth downturned. He looks Guan Shan up and down. 'Let me guess. Hsien Yu, the old letch? Ugh, that guy needs a wife.'

'He's forty, not dead. And he doesn't fuckin' take without askin' first.' Guan Shan can't believe he's defending the guy, but he's a regular, and customers who use the services of the house and keep their hands to themselves are a rarity.

Jian Yi waves Guan Shan off. 'Talk, Dark, and Filthy Rich could take what he wanted from me any day.'

Guan Shan’s mouth twists in distaste. ‘You’re quick. What happened to your Monday Night Guy? Zhan-something?’

‘Oh,’ says Jian Yi, kicking his feet against the base of the bed. ‘Please. He’s marriage material.’

‘And the rich guy—’

‘Is a quick fuck in the furniture store and you’ll swallow if he tells you to.’

‘You’re disgustin’,’ Guan Shan mutters.

‘We work in the sex industry, my friend. No time to be coy.’

Companion industry, Guan Shan nearly corrects, but he’s not sure who he’d be trying to convince—Jian Yi or himself. Three years of this, and it’s chaste, for the most part, but not enough that Guan Shan can ignore the rest of it—car pulled over on the side of the road, head bowed into a lap; bruised knees on a tiled floor; a knife under a hotel bed, just in case.

‘Did you talk to him?’ Guan Shan asks, despite himself. ‘The guy.’

Jian Yi bolts upright, grinning. ‘I knew you were interested,’ he says, a sharp accusation, viciously triumphant. He indulges in it for a moment, then concedes. ‘I didn’t. I saw him in Chaoyang Park. He looked busy. All business. His bodyguard was wearing a suit that would pay more than my annual salary.’

Guan Shan grunts and props himself against the dresser, arms folded. It sounds right, to a point. Mr He flashed enough money during their appointment for Guan Shan to spend the evening in a state of nauseous awe. He’d had rich clients, men and women with busy schedules who travelled often and talked little and found it hard to sustain any kind of relationship.

He’d never been hired by someone like Mr He, money in his pores and charm to stop you in the streets. The man didn’t need to pay for Guan Shan’s company, not least for a companion who smiled little and laughed less. Granted, the books had been full last week, but Guan Shan was the wrong choice to boost the ego of a man like that.

‘You should call him,’ says Jian Yi, waggling his eyebrows. ‘See if he wants another round.’

‘We didn’t fuck,’ Guan Shan snipes. ‘We watched a fuckin’ basketball game.’

‘Oh, I know. You were in the tabloids.’ Jian Yi wiggles his fingers in Guan Shan’s direction. ‘Mr He Tian’s mystery man.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. ‘I’m not desperate. I’ve got other clients.’

‘Not ones that look like that. Not with that kind of money.’ Jian Yi gets to his feet, stretches cat-like until his jumper rises above his midriff. ‘I dunno, Red,’ he says, dropping his arms to his sides, shrugging. ‘What have you got to lose?’

-

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[all-things-fic]

can you write a blurb where you're talking shit with harry and like bitching with him? i just really wanna see that one.

Just a little something I’ve put together.

Shit Talking

~*~

You closed the door, immediately resting against it as it shut to, head knocking back to lean against the glass.

With your eyes closed you took a deep breath in, smelling whatever masterpiece was being put together in the kitchen.

Heavy bags still hung to your body, thick winter coat sitting against your shoulders, shoes that were way too high on your feet. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you heard him muttering something to the food he was cooking, obviously wanting to take away some of the stress that you were feeling and wanting it to be perfect in the process.

Resting your bag next to Harry’s shoes you reached down and pulled off your shoe, moaning under your breath as your feet hit the floor, toes curling to help continue to relieve the tension that you heels had brought.

As you reached for your second heel, hopping on your now bare foot, you let that one you had removed haphazardly drop to the floor slowly giving less and less of a fuck as the tension dissipated.

Walking through the house, you watched him quietly for a moment dressed in some shirt that should be worn by a convention dad but probably cost more than your most expensive designer handbag (which he had also bought you). There was the faint sound of Van Morrison coming from your lounge that he was really zoned in on as he faintly sang along with the lyrics.

Your eyes took in the kitchen once they had moved away from Harry. The mess that was left in the sink, the way whatever was on one of the hobs bubbled away. Extractor fan above the cooker turned on, two plates set out on the side ready to be plated up. 

He must’ve sensed you, glancing over at you waiting in the doorway before looking back to the food. You watched him still before he looked back at you, his eyes holding yours softly.

You’d been texting him whenever you could today. The stress of work positively getting to you. A deadline that was unmeetable being handed over to you to sort out.

He’d phoned you a lunch time, a growled “again”, leaving his lips when you spoke about the boss at work that was once more making your life a living hell.

Quickly, he reacted, standing behind the island of the kitchen and grabbed the large glass of wine that sat next to the one that he had clearly been sipping while he cooked.

Walking to you, he handed over the glass which you gratefully took off him with ease. You closed your eyes as you drank, taking the largest sip you could muster. Even that seemed to take too much energy.

“Let me take your coat,” he mumbled, shifting along with you so you could place down your wine and feel him slip the heavy item off your body. “‘M making a roast.”

“Beef?” You asked, knowing that it was his favourite.

He didn’t respond straight away, quickly moving around the house to hang up your coat. He was back just moments later, “No, ‘ve done chicken.”

That was your favourite. The soft smile hit your lips involuntarily but you wouldn’t have fought it anyway. 

He placed his hands on your shoulders, thumbs massaging slowly close to your neck and you turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

“S’fine, ‘s’nothing,” he responded. He squeezed lightly at your shoulder as you turned your head to slightly look at him, “Gimme a kiss.”

He puckered his lips gently in a way that always made you soft for him, eyes knocking up to look at his. With a slight nod, he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours lightly, tasting the faint crispness of the white wine against your mouth.

“You alright?” He softly asked, cupping your face.

“‘M so fuckin’ tired, H.”

You were honest. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell, just like you could tell how worried about you he was.

“Lay it on me,” he responded, pressing his lips to yours again before repeating his words. “Come an’ tell me, what’s going on.”

Reaching for his glass of wine, he rested against the kitchen counter opposite you, watching the way you spoke about work while you casually undressed in front of him in the middle of your kitchen.

Hands fiddled with the zip on the back of your pencil skirt, as you quickly spun it around and unzipped it from the front before you could get too irritated at a piece of clothing. It fell to your feet, revealing your nude tight covered legs to him, next to the silk blouse that had crumpled throughout the day.

He didn’t bat an eyelid in a sexual way, like he usually would. His casual grabbing at your waist with some comment that warmed your through as you would most likely laugh, tilt your head back at how he had tired to be sexy but instead sounded dorky but highly attractive with. Even more so when you considering the two of you hadn’t seen a lot of each other lately. You knew you didn’t need to worry though, that would come, now just wasn’t the right time.

“And I mean, this bitch seriously just does not have a fucking clue,” you ranted, cupping at your wine as your side rested into the kitchen counter. “I’m actually fucking sick of her and her stupid glasses-“

He snorted at that, smirking against the rim of his wine glass. Here came the pettiness to your rant.

“They’re so fucking thick and black and way too harsh on her face,” you continued, “and don’t get me started on how she has her own mugs in the kitchen and no one else is allowed to use them. I went to use one the other day and someone from HR was questioning me why I was using her mug. Like she has ownership on all the mugs!” 

You flung your arms out. “No one wants your “I’d rather be sipping prosecco” mug anyways, Karen!”

He stayed silent as he watched you, arms flying everywhere before you turned your attention to the envelope that was you post from that morning as it sat against the work surface.

“You should just bin it when she’s not in the office,” he mischievously quipped. “Throw it away so when she comes back she can’t find it.”

Your eyes lit up at the thought, and he laughed - a belly laugh - probably harder than he should. “No,” he wheezed as he slowed his laughed, his hands quickly coming up in front of him. “No, don’t do that. Don’t be petty like that. Fuck her, let her get on with it.”

“I can’t,” you whineed. “She’s driving me mad with her constant switching of goal posts and changing what she requires of my team.”

“Then go above her-“

“She’s the CEO, there is no one above her,” you respond, probably a bit more harshly than you should have. You meekly looked at him but he waved you off, he’s okay to take a battering tonight, if it’s needed.

You, however, weren’t okay to deliver that battering.

Pushing yourself up onto the kitchen island, you beckoned him to you, watching as he pushed himself off the counter. He stood between your legs, wine glasses resting beside you and placed his hand against your nude tights, enjoying the smoothness beneath his hands.

“Sorry,” you mumbled with a heavy sigh.

“‘S’fine-“

“‘S’not-“ you countered.

“Let’s go back to the idea of you binning her mug,” he joked.

You looked at him, enjoying the way he was now leaning into you, hands presses heavily into the kitchen counter beside you making him all hunched but so incredibly manly.

“I’m totally going to do that, I am at that level of petty right now-“ you felt slightly sad.

“You’re worn out and need a break,” he acknowledged. Eyes meeting his, he slid his hand against your neck and into your hair at your nape. “Go in tomorrow and request some leave-“

“‘M so busy, I can’t take some leave, just like that,” you clicked your fingers.

“Can,” he argued, childishly. He saw the stress hit your face, watching worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth at the thought of leaving it all behind, probably only to come back to even more work that has mounted up while you were away. “Fuck this, I’m going to go in for you and bin that bitches mug for her-“

You stifled a laugh at that, knowing how concerned he was now that he was swinging for jokes, left and right.

“Darlin’, please,” he begged. “Book a week off, let me take you somewhere-“

You felt your lips downturn, how was this man stood in front of you even real. “Hey,” he coaxed, taking on this dreamy tone, “Back to that little private island in Amalfi.”

“That was ridiculously priced, you’re never taking me there again.“

He chuckled now because he didn’t pay for it last time, perks of being part of a fancy record label and knowing people in high places. Being gifted that is one thing but going of your own accord is completely different.

“Well, maybe not a whole week but take a couple o’days,” he started, hands moving to your outer thighs and softly rubbing. “Maybe we could drive to Soho Farmhouse and disconnect.”

You closed your eyes when you see him lean in and press a peck to your lips, dropping his head to yours. “That sounds idyllic,” you whispered.

“Maybe go to the spa, enjoy a nice facial or two,” he tried to hide the twitch of his lips, the splitter of his laughter gives him away.

You whined, “How are you still such a boy?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he raised his hands for a short amount of time.

“You are not sorry,” you whined again as pressed his forehead into your temple.

“No ‘m fuckin’ not,” he husked, nudging his nose against your cheek, trying to goad you when your stare went far away and you don’t seem to blink for a while.

“‘M worried ‘bout you,” he admitted, watching as you eventually blinked yourself out of your daze. “Gimme a long weekend. A Friday and a Monday. Think you could stretch to that?”

You hummed, scratching at his neck, as he nuzzled against your nose. “I’ll drive us down on a Thursday night, get you nice an’ relaxed.”

“How’d you on plan on doing that?”

“Know a few things, got a couple of tricks up m’sleeve.” You bit back your smile at his drawl, knowing that he wasn’t wrong about that.

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (iii)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol, swearing, implied smut, & once again general nonsense word count: 4.6k a/n: part three of five, part i and part ii / first off i want to show love to shan for helping beta this chapter when i was feelin real nervous about it, she’s a life saver <3 / once again we have fun this chapter so i hope you all enjoy x 

December 2019 London, England

Monday morning at The International was the meeting spot for (Y/N) and Will every single week during her semester. What was once a special studying spot turned into a hangout spot after Will left his flat to find some peace and quiet one day, only to end up with him tagging along with her to the sacred cafe just off of Queen Mary’s campus. 

No matter how early she showed, before her 8 a.m. class or for lunch, Will always showed ten minutes later. This day was no different. Sitting near the windows with a toastie and a coffee, she watched Will cross the busy street from Mile End Park with a backpack slung across his shoulder, and walk straight into the cafe where she and dozens of other students were cramming for their last bit of exams before break. 

After ordering a coffee, he pocketed his wallet and made his way over to the table, their eyes meeting and they smiled.

“Studying?” Will asked while dropping his backpack on the floor.

She shook her head, sitting her coffee cup back down to the table. “Not yet, I’m finishing a paper for one of my last general courses.” Across the table Will sat his laptop out, fishing out a notebook second. He mostly came to the cafe to do emails and finish up the business-side of YouTube when he wasn’t just generally being annoying. “What are you doing today?” 

“Ah, editing a video I recorded last night with George. We were on Discord for hours last night.” He said plugging in his mouse. 

A moment later one of the employees whisked around the front counter and brought Will his coffee, sitting in on the table, and they both let out quiet thank yous before he returned to the front to greet another customer. 

After taking the first sip of his latte, Will sat back in the chair and looked at her. Her eyes flickered over the top of her laptop screen and she raised a brow, prompting him to speak up first. “You know we’re going to have to talk about Friday, yeah?”

She swallowed hard at the thought of talking about what happened - their tequila-fueled makeout session against a wall of their mate’s flat. She hadn’t seen him since Friday night as her and Cleo spent the weekend at Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland, which she was partially grateful for. She didn’t want to talk about it, but now that he was sitting in front of her, it was less awkward than she thought. 

“Yeah, we probably should,” she said, “listen, Will, what happened Friday-” 

“Should definitely happen again next Friday.” 

(Y/N) almost choked on her coffee as the words slipped past his lips and interrupted her. She held tight onto the cup, tempted to drop it from the shock, and stared at him intently. He smiled, holding up a hand.

“I know that sounds so weird, but listen,” he licked his lips, “I know Hanna, okay. She is going to show up to every fuckin’ party James has for the rest of his life with another bloke. She is petty as shit which is something I overlooked, but just knowing that I can get a rise out of her by making out with you? I’ll take that any day over standing by and watching her try and do the same.” 

“She did try it.” 

Will cocked his head. “What?” 

“Whenever we split to go get drinks, I saw her all over him, but she was looking directly at us.” She explained, taking another sip of her espresso and sitting the cup back down. “Do you want to do it to make her jealous and try and get her back or what is it for?” 

“Just to get under her skin,” he said. “And you want to do the same with Adrian, yeah? That’s why we necked it in the first place?” 

She laughed slightly at his wording, never failing to get a laugh from his accent either. Her eyes focused on the nicked edge of her cup, finding it more comforting than admitting her feelings while looking at him.

“Yeah, I do,” she finally said, “he had the nerve to walk in there with someone and I just- I just wanted to get him back, you know? It’s shit that he came with another girl literally three days after we split.” 

Will scrunched his brow. “Why you are attracted to that fella is beyond me. I can admit he’s handsome but for god's sake is he a bit of a prat.” 

“And to think he went to school with James.” She dismissed and Will let out a laugh.

“You’re smarter than him though, that’s for bloody sure.” 

There was an eye roll in the mix there as she laughed, remembering when Cleo said the exact same thing last week. She grabbed her cup and took another sip, now taking note of the time on her watch. She had a study session with a group of her classmates in half an hour at the library, and from her spot at the cafe, it felt like a world away. 

She quickly finished off the espresso and sat the cup back down onto the table, frantically grabbing her laptop and highlighters to shove inside her bag among her textbooks and notes. Will watched on, looking at the clock on his laptop, then literally clocking why she was trying to shove everything together in a matter of seconds.

“Going to study?” 

“Yeah,” she said grabbing her notebooks and shoving them in too, “I have an exam this Friday and we’re all meeting every day this week to study before class.” 

“What’s it for this time? The same nonsense class as last month?” 

“It’s not nonsense Will, but yeah,” 

“What was it, something like molecular science astronomy?” 

She stood up from her chair and threw on her coat. “Molecular biology,”

“Yeah that shite,” Will waved her off before leaning back in his chair to put all his attention back on her from his laptop. “Once again, too smart for him, and apparently too smart for everyone else too.” 

(Y/N) took one last glance at the table, grabbing her planner and phone and shoving it into her pocket before looking at Will. They shared just a moment looking at each other, almost like they were trying to figure out what they were thinking, but mostly, it was just that she didn’t know what to think until she blurted out; 

“So necking it this Friday?” 

Will licked the inside of his cheek, laughing as he was taken aback by her sudden forwardness, “same time and place.” 

“See you, you knob,” she said with a laugh while walking by him, heading to the door. He said a quick goodbye over his shoulder as she left the cafe, pushing through the door and into the London cold. 

***

It was nowhere near the same time or place that (Y/N) and Will were together a week ago, because this Friday, she was already drunk by 10 p.m. and showed up to Will’s flat with Cleo by her side. 

She pre-gamed the party with her classmates after their final exam, and she was feeling good in every way - her semester of university was finally over, she passed her final exam and dental clinicals, and she finally got to wear her favorite mini-skirt. For the first time in a very long time, she felt on top of the world. 

They had caught wind that Will was pre-gaming with George and Alex at his flat before heading to James’, all because of a single text from Gee, so they barged in, loud as usual. 

“WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?” She called out, the door slamming open and hitting the door stopper before bouncing back on Cleo who rolled her eyes. 

Will heard her voice from downstairs, and without a doubt, his neighbors heard her too. Sliding the black tee over his head, he walked out of his bedroom and jogged down the stairs to see (Y/N) - she was smiling when their eyes met, and he could tell by the flush in her cheeks that she had been drinking already.

“Bloody hell we haven’t even made it to the party and you’re already pissed.” He joked, making it to the bottom of the stairs. She opened her arms out and he stepped into her side, allowing his arm to slide around her shoulders.

“She’s been drinking since 6.” Cleo said as she sat the drinks on the counter. “It took me half an hour to get her out of the flat because she kept changing outfits, and then falling over while changing.” 

She looked up at Will, a beaming smile meeting her glassy eyes. “I passed my exam.” 

His eyes then brightened, “oh sweet, congrats on passing whatever bullshit you said that was..” He affirmed his words by rubbing her arm gently, thumb grazing over the skin of her shoulder while they laughed. On the counter next to them he spotted Cleo cracking open a bottle of vodka. 

“How about you two get some of the glasses from the cabinet and we’ll take some celebratory shots.” He offered and everyone agreed, even George and Alex in the living room who were fucking around making dumb TikToks. They ushered into the kitchen and Will felt her move from under his arm straight over to the counter where Cleo was. 

While grabbing his denim jacket from the back of the sofa, Will looked up at the group who was laughing as Alex’s (plastic) shot glass split and broke in his hand, but he was looking more at (Y/N). Her hair shined under the lights of his flat, her skirt hugging her in all the right places. When she giggled before taking the shot, he couldn’t help but smile as he downed his own. 

The group sat in his kitchen and had another drink before heading out, taking the lift down to where an Uber awaited to whisk the five across the city to James’ flat. 

Walking with Cleo in the back of the group, she took the chance to look at Will - he ditched a hat for the night and his hair looked soft, and he chose to wear a denim jacket and a pair of black denim jeans. She always thought he had the best style out of their friend group, but it messed with her head and her fluctuating feelings to admit it, because for that second she allowed herself to be attracted to him. 

The other three knew immediately that something was up between them. 

They were in the back of the Uber giggling, his hand on her lower back when she climbed out, and just the general vibe they were giving off made it clear that even just for a second, they might be more than just friends who made out at a party once. In the lift, Cleo rolled her eyes at the sound of them laughing behind her and took another drink straight from the bottle of vodka in her hand. 

And just like last week, the lift doors opened to reveal an already packed flat in front of them. In the back of the lift, (Y/N) reached over and slid an arm around Will’s torso, leaning against him for support. The vodka shots were beginning to mix with the margaritas she had downed with her classmates. 

“You are already a handful, aren’t ya?” He teased, holding her close as they stepped off and into the corridor. Cleo was greeting everyone in the doorway and they slowly made their way forward. 

She giggled and gripped the material of his denim jacket in her palm, staring up at him with eyes full of stars. “Will you dance with me?” She asked with almost an innocent tone. How could he ever say no to that?

“Give me a bit and I’ll definitely consider it.” 

Multi-colored lights danced across the walls in the foyer, leading them like moths straight to the living room where everyone else was. They pushed their way inside, through the bodies, and straight to James. He had already downed three drinks since the pre-game, so he was greeting them all once again with giant hugs and even kisses for the boys. 

Laughing with James as they hugged, she looked over his shoulder to see Adrian in the kitchen. He was standing with the same brunette like last week, this time no drink in his hand, but this time his eyes were trained on her. She quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her second-too-long gaze, and then sunk back down to her normal height as her and James pulled away.

Behind her, Will noticed Adrian, too. They met eyes across the heads of everyone else between them, and Adrian tilted his chin up before turning away. Similar to Hanna and her, Will woke up Saturday morning to a few petty Instagram stories from Adrian, but he mostly found them funny rather than anything else.

When she leaned back from James, Will stepped up behind her, tilting his head down to meet the shell of her ear. “Do you want to get a drink?” 

She looked at him over her shoulder with a raised brow, “as long as you’ll dance with me after.” She always drove a hard bargain, and in all fairness, Will didn’t mind dancing as long as it was with her. 

“It will take more than just one, but I’m willing to give it a try.” 

He reached down between them and grabbed her hand, their fingers lacing together, and he led her right by the kitchen and around the edge of the room to the drink table. Adrian watched as they moved together, and when they stepped into his view from the kitchen, he saw interlocked fingers and quickly looked away, turning all his attention to the girl on his side while mentally fighting with himself to turn back around and watch. 

This time James had stocked up on the tequila per their request, so there was no need to raid the cupboards for it like last Friday. James wound up missing a pineapple because everyone was looking for more drinks at 2 a.m., and they never found the Inflatable Penis Bandit either.

Across the room on the sofa with her legs thrown over her date, sat Hanna. She had shown up earlier than everyone else with the same guy she had dragged along last time, and replaced her own little-black-dress for a pair of denim jeans and a cute top, hoping to catch Will’s attention, but instead all she got was the back of his head in her direction as he laughed with his date. 

(Y/N) caught the daggers shooting into her skull from across the room, Hanna’s gaze heavy directly at her, so she decided to take the first initiative of the night. Will handed her a shot glass, this time they were miniature red cups, and they took the shot together after a quick toast. The tequila in her system began to add up, and it served as courage when she leaned up and kissed Will after they slammed their shot glasses back down onto the table.

It was a decision made with quick thinking, catching Will completely off guard when she grabbed his jacket and pulled herself up to his mouth, but a second later he sunk into her. His hand gently cradled the back of her head, allowing her to control the way her lips dragged across his before she pulled away with a giggle.

“Was that okay?” She asked, nose nestling against his before she leaned down to her normal height. 

Will looked down at her, watching the lights bounce off her face and glassy eyes, and he smiled. It was more than okay. He wanted to kiss her again, regardless of who was watching, so he did. His answer was given by kissing her again, this time it was long, it was sultry in all the right ways. Her head that already began to spin, whirled in circles with the feeling of his warm hands on her skin. She liked having him this close. 

“Wait,” she pulled back and Will’s heart picked up, afraid that he may have crossed a boundary, but was comforted when she continued, “do you think James has a strawberry mixer?” 

He breathed out and moved his hands to hold her face. “Another margarita, that’s what you want, innit?” She smiled and nodded. “I’ll go see if they have anything for it.” 

“No, no, no, don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about me.” Her words slightly slurred when she shook her head, simultaneously reaching up to wipe her lipstick off the corner of his mouth, and they both laughed. “You go have fun.” 

Will’s smile faded, and over the music, he could hear someone calling out for him. “You’ll be okay?” 

“Okay, I’m gon’ find Cleo again,” she said with a slow nod, “now go on, be careful!” 

Will chuckled, nose scrunched. She was already so drunk he found it almost endearing. “I’ll be careful.” He repeated before pecking her cheek with another kiss and they split apart, the warmth of his hand on her shoulder remaining as he moved past her - she headed to the hallway where she last saw Cleo, and Will headed straight to the kitchen where Ethan and Mark was calling out for him, a drink in his hand and they greeted each other. 

More people began to pack into the flat, the music growing louder, the lights moving around the room faster. The room was hotter with the moving bodies, and the drinks were overflowing shot glasses and cups, turning the dial of the party up a notch. 

Will found (Y/N) an hour later while she was dancing with Cleo and Gee. 

He had been making his way around the party, talking to everyone, and also, in the meantime, managing to make a margarita. Throughout the night he had also kept an eye on her - watching her dance on the table, take a shot with Fraser, and as she took photos with Gee and Astrid. 

From the patio where he stood with Simon and Joel not twenty minutes after he left her alone, he looked through the glass to see her sitting with Astrid on the floor, Kenji on his back between them, fully enjoying the belly rubs and attention he was receiving. Will smiled because it reminded him of the time she came to Newcastle with him, how she sat on the sofa with his mum and Darcey the entire time, giving the dog all of the attention instead of him. 

Walking onto the makeshift ‘dance-floor’, Will carried a frozen glass in his hand. James didn’t have ice so Will had to improvise and stick the full glass in the freezer for an undisclosed amount of time (he forgot about it), but it was still the thought that counted. Stepping between, he caught her attention amongst the other bodies, and she started her walk to him. And then when she spotted the red slush in the glass in his hand, she gasped, pausing her movements to step over and grab it with both hands.

“I think you are my new favorite person.” She said, taking it from his grip, raising to her toes to peck his cheek with another kiss; for those watching, they imagined, but it was mostly for themselves. 

When they started talking, she noticed the slight bounce in his stance, his smile was wider - he had a few shots of the tequila with James and Calum, and now he was starting to feel his cheeks warm up, suddenly everything was funnier too, for both of them. She laughed as he began to sway his shoulders to the beat of the song, head following along - it was EARFQUAKE, Tyler, The Creator. 

“Come on,” she reached down and her cold fingers locked around his, guiding him to the same spot she was just a few moments ago. Everybody was rocking back and forth, some singing along to the lyrics, and they were right in the middle of it.

They stopped among everyone else, sandwiched between the sofa and shoulders of everyone else, and began to dance to the sound of Tyler’s voice. In the mix of colors, Will looked down at her when she grabbed his hand and used it to spin herself around, smiling when she collided with his body again, sending them both into fits of laughter. He was also impressed with the fact that she managed to not spill a single sip of her drink. 

“You’re cute,” he said under the music, but close enough to her so she could hear. 

Her cheeks flushed, from the alcohol or from his words, she didn’t know. “I called you cute the other day and you laughed at me,” she pouted, gently slapping his arm, “so why should I take this compliment?” 

Will smiled down at her, a hand reaching out to brush her hair from her face, and her chin instinctively tilted upwards to him. “Because unlike you, I mean it.” 

“I meant it too!” (Y/N) called out and Will laughed before leaning down and kissing her. 

He wasn’t kissing her because specific people were looking, he kissed her because in the moment, it felt right. It would have been wrong if he hadn’t.

When a song with a heavy beat replaced the current one, a switch flipped, and Will allowed her to press forward against his chest, her hips gyrating against his lap. His hot hands guided her hips, moving with her, their noses nestled, breaths hitched and kissing, both losing their inhibitions in the melody of the song. 

But a few minutes later when the song changed to Vossi Bop, the feeling of the room lightened, everyone immediately rushed to their friends or to the table for more drinks, all rapping along with the words. Everyone lost their shit to Stormzy. The last time she heard the song was in Paris and that night ended with her throwing up in a bush outside the venue. 

Her and Will danced through Stormzy and AJ Tracey, sharing the margarita he made, laughing with and at their friends as they stumbled around, and singing the lyrics to every known belter. Similar to Vossi Bop, when the playlist shuffled Wonderwall, the room came together and this time, sang along like a family. 

(Y/N)’s arm slid around Will’s shoulders, pulling herself close to his side as they smiled from ear to ear and sang to each other. “I SAID MAYBEEE, YOU’RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES MEEE. AND AFTER ALL, YOU’RE MY WONDERWALL.” 

In a fit of laughter and joy, she leaned forward and tilted her head, pressing a kiss against Will’s cheek, and then the corner of his mouth. He smiled as she broke apart from him, twirling herself in circles to the ending of the tune, pointing to him while finishing off the lyrics. 

When the song came to an end, Will stepped forward and grabbed her face, his fingers locking behind her ears, and he kissed her. It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t sweet, it had meaning, intentions laced behind it. 

It was a mix of the alcohol, the known euphoria of Wonderwall, and the fact that she looked so damn sweet looking up at him. Her eyes fluttered shut, free hand placing on his arm while she focused on the feeling of his lips on hers, the taste of strawberry mixer and tequila. 

It was the Arctic Monkeys One For The Road that propelled them forward, their bodies clashing together, kisses sloppy, a shift in their nature. Sweet and fun turned quickly into rushed and lustful, lighting their insides aflame. When their lips broke apart, Will glanced behind him, and then pulled her with him as he shuffled back onto a chair. In the small corner of the room, she straddled his lap, the colors dancing across her skirt while his fingers wound in her hair and they kissed messily.

It wasn’t a sudden realization of love, it was infatuation, it was lust. When they made out at the party last Friday, that was the realization that they needed - it was something they could do all the time, because they genuinely liked each other. They were always friends, but there was the underlying tone of the potential for more. Friends who didn’t mind to neck it at every party were bound to have some feelings for each other eventually. 

And that’s how they wound up in the hallway outside of James’ flat, her back pressed against the cool surface of the wall, his hand on her thigh, pushing the material of her skirt up the higher his palm climbed. 

Her heart was pounding against her chest, unable to calm it when his hand gripped the back of her thigh. Everything he was doing was amplified by the alcohol - her sensations running on a constant high, pushing exhilaration when his tongue slipped into her mouth. The music from inside the flat was muffled behind the closed door. 

Boy, I’m looking for affection in all the wrong places And we’ll keep falling on each other to fill the empty spaces

Their lips parted for a breath, and she tilted her head up, nose grazing his. “Back to mine?” Was all she could make out, her lungs filled with fire, breath ghosting over Will’s lips.

He looked at her, searching her eyes for something, anything - hesitation, regret, but instead, all he saw was reciprocated feelings staring back at him. A neediness, a desire. Will didn’t even respond, instead reaching over and smacking the button for the lift, giving her an answer in the form of another kiss while they both laughed. 

Within minutes they were in the backseat of a taxi on the streets of London, his lips on her neck, her hands creeping under his shirt. Chills ran up her spine, from the cold, from his hands sliding under her skirt. He smiled against her lips and she felt him taking root inside of her when he kissed her again. 

On the other side of the city no less than ten minutes later, they slid out of the backseat in front of the residential building and dashed to the lift and into her flat, this time, their affection wasn’t overshadowed by the fear of freaking out an innocent Uber driver.  

Her keys dropped onto the foyer table, his jacket tossed onto the floor. He brought a hand up to the side of her face, long fingers wrapping around her jaw and twisting in her hair, and they were kissing again, just like before, but somehow better. It’s sweeter, it’s deeper. He wanted her, and by the way her hands slid up his shirt, hooking around his belt, it made him feel like she wanted him too. 

Pressing forward, she pushed him backwards towards her bedroom at the end of the hall. Will shuffled back into the wall by trying to turn too early and they let out a laugh before their lips reconnected. He slid a strong arm around her waist, pulling her with him while he used his memory of the floorplan to her flat, in the best way he could, to guide her with him to her bedroom. 

Will backed up against the wall, hands sliding down to touch her hips, her thighs, while his lips found the delicate skin on the side of her neck. Reaching blindly behind her, she felt the doorknob against her palm, and pushed the door shut, shutting off the bedroom from the rest of the flat. 

Oh, I’m looking for affection in all the wrong places And we’ll keep falling on each other to fill the empty spaces

[obscureoperations]

yeah.....!lol was thinking of patrick fucking martin....

Hold on.. hol on... Hold on! Nah! You cant be doing shit like this. 🤔😂I mean I had no idea how I could make this work. I decided to be an ass and ignore other asks just to see if I could get this going. I did, But it’s shit imo. I tried. and now here we go!😬

Patrick was so livid, he was on the verge of tears by time nine thirty rolled around. They had been waiting for their appetizers for almost an hour. He was at least relieved for the liberal amount of drinks. He had finally swung a reservation to Dorsia, the hottest restaurant around--it only took him a little over two months. The second he entered the place he was slightly underwhelmed. It was nice… but he already preferred the atmosphere of Del Posto.The lighting was dim, a large chandelier hung in the main hall, the music was faint and ambient. It was a reservation for six. Himself, Evelyn, Bryce and his date. Luis Caruthers and Courtney Rawlinson. He swirled the last of his j&b around in his glass before he downs it with a visible wince.

“God Patrick… maybe we should just leave. I’m sure they’ll give you a refund.” Evelyn huffs

“No.. we’re staying. I didn’t stay on that fucking waiting list for two months for us just to up and  leave.”

Bryce began to laugh as he downed the rest of his martini, he was already beginning to go off on one. Patrick almost wanted to pull him aside and demand that he get his shit together. He’ll be damned if he gets them all kicked out. Instead he whistles through his teeth getting the man’s attention. He tapped his left nostril twice, gesturing over to the bathroom. Bryce seemed to immediately sober up.

“Excuse me… I’m going to go find that waiter.” Patrick  said as he rises from the table.

“I’m… gonna go head to the bathroom…” adds Bryce.

Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Just say the two of you are gonna go do a line. The way you’re acting, it’s like you want to run off together.” She quickly fishes a cigarette from her purse, before turning her attention to Courtney. Patrick briefly runs his fingers through his hair, straightening his tie as he turns to leave. He brushes his hand over his inner jacket pocket to feel the large serrated knife firmly in place. By the time that they left, he would have to find their waiter..Matthew? He couldn’t remember the kid’s name. All he knew was that he had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He would take care of him quickly enough in the alley.

The two men practically power walked their way over to the bathroom, nearly running into someone as they turned the corner. It was that kid.. The waiter, who clutched a menu to his chest--apologizing profusely with wide brown eyes. 

“You…” Patrick sneered.

“I-I’m sorry for the delay sir.. The kitchen is extremely backed up.. W-were short staffed. Feel free to order all the drinks that you need, they’re on the house.” 

“Oh, you can bet that we will…” Patrick growls, stepping in closer. Each syllable is punctuated by a sharp jab to the young man’s chest. 

The boy shrunk away at the blatant abuse, as color rose to his face. He continued to stammer his apologies as he kept his eyes averted and the menu nearly slipped from his grasp. 

Bryce finally pulls Patrick away and into the bathroom, laughing to himself under his breath. “Fuckin kid… he’s practically begging for it.”

“What?” Patrick asks as he absentmindedly eyes his reflection in the mirror-- adjusting his tie and tilting his head. His fingers prod at his jawline. No carbs tonight…

He can hear Bryce snort obnoxiously behind the stall “Ah. god… That’s the shit right there…”

Patrick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If anything he craved a cigar himself. He began to riffle through his pockets. 

Bryce emerges from the stall looking refreshed although a bit ‘squirrely’. He runs his hands through his already slick hair, adjusting his collar in the mirror. “Alright man… wooh! Lets go…”

“What were you saying about that kid a few minutes ago?” Patrick asks absentmindedly.

“Huh?”

He begins to do a half hearted jig in the mirror, pointing at himself obnoxiously. Yeah that’s right… He was already planning on bagging his date. 

Patrick grits his teeth, as he presses his hand against the knife. This is Bryce...jesus Patrick..calm down.

“You said something about that kid.. The waiter.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely checking you out. You shoulda saw the way he was leering at you when he replaced your drink.” He shudders dramatically “It was weird man…”

Patrick could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a fine sheen of sweat forms across his brow. He knew he wasn’t imagining the way the young man looked at him as he continued to apologize profusely. He was frightened, that much he could tell. Patrick always tried his best to portray an intimidating image. The fear, for both his physical well being and the security of his job. But still, there was something else. The boy’s eyes darkened just a bit. Martin! His name was Martin. 

“Whatever…” Patrick mumbles as he washes his hands at the sink,the plan already formulating in his head. He had fully intended on getting the kid fired, if not just outright gutting him in the back alley. But now a different sort of idea formed in his brain, one that might be even more rewarding.

It was less than five minutes after the two of them had resumed their seats that Martin returned with another waiter. Martin held the appetizers, the man behind him held the main dishes, the two of them swiftly began to arrange the plates on the table. Not a single mix up, each of the appetizers matched the dish and the owner. As the two waiters began to leave, Martin shot Patrick a final apologetic glance.

~~

He was cagey, he barely  even touched his steak, he only picked around at the kale and arugula salad. His mind was racing, they were all supposed to visit a club nest, how would he be able to politely excuse himself? He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to wait for him in the alley and take his frustrations out the easy way. The large serrated knife felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He bet he was even more beautiful when he was bleeding. 

“So Bateman, you’re gonna tell me, you spent all your money on this shit--and you’re not even going to eat anything?!” Bryce laughed already reaching for his plate.

Patrick grips his wrist like a vice. “Touch any of it, and you’ll draw back a stump.”

Bryce yanks his hand away, quickly loosening his tie. “Hey calm down there buddy… what no Shiatzu this morning?”

“Evelyn… ask for a doggy bag or something… I’ll be right back.”

“Patrick!” Luis calls.

“Excuse me…” 

~~

Patrick managed to slip into the employee area with an ease that he didn’t expect. He grabbed an apron off a rack and tied it around himself accordingly. He even slipped on a spare face mask. In his suit and tie, he could easily be mistaken for a health inspector. He scans the hallways which for the most part appear completely empty. A door swings open and his back presses against the wall. Two large burly men carry a large slab of meat--probably a cow back to a set of double doors. He was about to step forward again, when the doors burst open. Two women wrangle a cage full of live chickens between them, following the men into the back room.

So. this was Dorsia

Patrick was just about to turn back and meet up with his friends at Levels. He should probably just let it go. Evelyn probably had a few too many and decided to take an uber home. He could schmooze with Bryce for about an hour. Get Luis too shitfaced to drive home. Then it would be just him and Courtney. That was his plan after all.

 Any plans or rational thought seemed to slip from his brain the second Martin crashed in through the doors. Large silver plate in hand, it rests right up on his shoulders, he nearly drops it before placing it on the ground. He surveys  The strange man’s appearance. He looks so familiar, his heart starts to race

“A- are you with the health department?” He asks. The hairs already begin to stand at the back of his neck.

“No...silly” Patrick begins to laugh as he simultaneously removes his face mask and draws the blade from his pocket. The large brandished knife seems to glint in the light. For a moment, Martin catches a glimpse of his own reflection. He instantly bolts down the hall, Patrick cusses beneath his breath as he tosses the mask to the ground.

~

 He was quicker than he expected. Patrick was actually winded, he felt like he was nearing the end of his Monday morning aerobics class. The young man seemed to know all the ins and outs of the building,all the hidden doors and staircases. He had no idea how the two of them ended up on the roof on this exceptionally windy night.  

Patrick could feel the smile play across his lips in an almost foreign upturned line. He had to pause for a moment to get himself together in the bathroom. He had just a brief snort just to keep himself up to par. He imagined he looked like a complete psychopath. Cheshire cat grin, sweating profusely all the while he continues to brandish the knife. Martin was crouched down behind the chimney, his cheek resting lightly against the brick. He looked fully resigned, simply watching Patrick as he continued to laugh and babel to himself.

“Wha--What am I doing?!” His head points towards the night sky as the knife falls from his hand. It lands onto the cement with a resounding clatter. Martin eagerly scrambles for it, before tossing it to the far side of the roof.

Patrick turns his back for a moment, quickly snorting another line from his index finger.. At this point, he had no idea how he could get past this. He had actually  chased the young boy onto the roof. He had three options, he could shove him off. He could fuck him (as he previously intended) Or he could finally hurl himself off the roof. All three options began to seem increasingly appealing. Then Martin began to speak.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?”

Patrick eyes him almost quizzically. He looks like a frightened cat hiding behind a tree. 

“I-- I- don’t know.”

He was being honest for once, at this point he had no idea what he wanted to do to Martin.

He can hear Martin’s nails scrape against the brick as he stands.He didn’t recall his face looking so pale, almost ghastly. His cheekbones were gaunt and pronounced.“ Well then kill me now or just let me jump…” 

His eyes widen for a moment. 

“Just let me jump…”

~

His entire body was on fire he could do nothing but aimleslessy grasp at the boy’s hair. His knife was lost somewhere in the corner, his dick was buried between two immaculate cheeks. At times a breeze would shift in, reminding him that he was completely nude on the rooftop of Dorsia. His friends were most likely already over at Level’s he didn’t mind. All that mattered were the sounds spewing from the young man beneath him. It was supposed to be torture, the harder he would yank his hair, more lewd noises spilled from his lips. 

Patrick could clearly see the city below him, it would be so easily to simply toss the boy off the edge of the building. The rewarding sound of him spattering across the pavement would be too dull given the height. Various apartment lights flickered on and off like fireflies in the otherwise crisp black sky. He shifts his focus to the sight of his dick plunging into the well worked hole of his former waiter. Glistening in the light, he still couldn't get over how freely the boy offered himself over. Luis would be jealous, this was exactly what he wanted. But Patrick never desired Luis, he desired him.

A strange, sort of  guttural noise alerts him once again to Martin’s existence. He layed limply against the brick, it was obvious that he had just came. His hand reaches beneath them, harshly groping at Martin’s quickly softening and over sensitive member. He ignores the boy’s pleads for him to stop, instead pistoning his hips in full. It wasn’t long before he bottoms out completely, beads of sweat drip against Martin’s back. A strong gust of air once again reminds him that he is completely bare.

He begins to dress as the waiter still lies limply against the brick. Gaping, he can see pearly white seed leaking out of him. For a moment it reminds him of Courtney, so pretty, almost perfect looking.  He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a card. 

He tosses it onto the young man’s back as he turns toward the fire escape.  “Call me if you want. I might answer. Maybe not. I’m at work all the time”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Root Beer Floats: Kauri

CW: Vaguely referenced/implied abusive/controlling relationship, vague references to past abuse. Honestly this is just tooth-rotting fluff. Just a little drabble inspired by a talk about Whumpees and foods.

Takes place during Future Kauri’s early freedom - sometime shortly before Come Home. The referenced Jack belongs to @spiffythespook.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-chains, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

The first bite of ice cream is slightly crunchy around all its edges, settled in the spoon he’d just dipped into the fizzing brown soda that fills the curving, swirling glass sitting before him. 

He thinks of ice crystals and closes his eyes, enjoying the way the sharper ice-taste bits melt almost immediately to smooth vanilla cream, cold on his tongue, thick liquid coating it all the way around.

There’s just the barest, darkest edge to the vanilla taste, a hint of the root beer it’s been floating in. 

“Oh, this is really good,” Kauri breathes out, and his tongue feels just a little thick in his mouth, like the ice cream is still there even though he swallowed it. 

“Of course it’s good, kiddo,” The guy sitting across from him says. Kauri can’t quite remember his name - they’ve been panhandling the same couple streets for the past week or so - the guy takes on the early hours and Kauri pops up around the time he’s done in the afternoon. It feels, weirdly, like they’re coworkers stopping to grab dinner at the end of a long day.

Or it feels like what Kauri thinks coworkers are like. Owen watched The Office a lot, both versions. And Chuck, although there was a lot of people reading important things in Chuck so Kauri couldn’t always pay much attention to it. 

Kauri in his sweatshirt, a t-shirt, and jeans, is squeaky clean compared to the man in his old army jacket with dirty hair. Kauri’s staying with Jack this week, which means showers every single day. It also means not having to spend any of the money he makes on food unless he wants to, because Jack feeds him and gives him a warm bed to sleep in and a warm friend to sleep with. 

On Monday they had gone to the library and gotten poetry books, and every night since Jack has read them in his slow, halting reading voice, three or four poems at a time. Kauri curls around him with his head tucked under Jack’s chin, eyes closed. He could at least listen to the words he could no longer read for himself.

One of the poems had been about someone sharing a root beer float with a daughter, and Kauri had been thinking for days about what a root beer float might taste like.

It’s so good.

The root beer tastes sweet and dark, a sort of licorice taste almost, fizzing on his tongue and all the way down his throat. He doesn’t use the straw they’ve stuck in the top of the glass - instead, he uses the long-handled silver spoon to search out ice cream bites and sips of root beer alike, taking his time, letting the soda rest on his tongue until the fizzing stops.

He can feel himself smiling around the spoon as it clicks against his teeth, just a little. The other panhandler grins at him - his teeth are yellowed from nicotine and hard living, but he’s nice to Kauri and always slips him extra peanut butter crackers if he gets some from the gas station down the street near their shared panhandling spot. 

Owen had told him that people were mostly shit - mostly mean, mostly rude, mostly the worst versions of themselves. Nobody’s the way they are in movies, Kor-Bore, Owen had told him, over and over. You’ll never meet Isaac from Honor Bound in real life, guys like that don’t really exist. The world’s full of Gavins, in the end.

But Kauri was out in the world now, and finding that people… people were mostly good, if you let them be. Maybe not perfect, but… good.

A woman today had given him a hundred-dollar-bill - just leaned right out her window and said, “Do good recklessly, darling,” and driven away. He’s going to take it home to Jack tonight, show it to him, tell him to take a couple hours off work so they can see a movie and go out to dinner, like real people.

Do good recklessly, Kauri thinks, and learn about root beer floats.

“What do you think?” The man asks, his voice low and a little hoarse. Kauri looks up at him, resting on his arms on the table, eating another bite of ice cream off the freezing cold spoon. This one is soft compared to the first few bites, and the vanilla and root beer flavors have mixed together, and he slurps the last bit of liquid off the end of the spoon loudly enough to make the man laugh.

“It’s good! It’s good. I wouldn’t, um, I mean I could buy a whole lunch with how much it cost, but… it’s good.”

“Still can’t believe you’ve never had a root beer float before. Where’d you grow up, fuckin’… I don’t know. Where did you grow up?”

Kauri swallows hard, then plays it off with a roll of his eyes, giving the answer that he and Jack came up with that first week he stayed with him, when Owen was still shocking him twenty or thirty times a day trying to get him to give up and go home. “I just grew up super sheltered,” He answers, and it’s not exactly a lie if he doesn’t know if it’s a lie, right?

“Even religious nuts get to enjoy a damn root beer float now and then,” The man says, jabbing a cheese-laden fry at him. The cheese sauce drips back onto the plate, landing on one of the only fries with no cheese already on it yet. 

“Yeah, but… you know. My… my life was super strict.”

“That’s fair,” The man says, shrugging, “Mine was, too. Look, I’m not sayin’ you should be out here chowing down on burgers and fries every day, but you’re skinny as shit, man.”

“Yeah, well. I eat enough.” Kauri steals one of his cheese fries, and the man laughs at him and just gives a little wave to encourage him to steal more. 

“Fuck off, kid, we both know you don’t when you’re out here flying signs with me. But your hooker buddy’s got your back this week, right? He’ll keep you fed, he prob’ly makes enough, right?” 

Kauri’s smile fades, just a little, but there’s no judgement in the man’s voice. He calls Jack a ‘hooker’ the way he might have said your buddy who does marketing or your boyfriend. He didn’t tell the man what Jack does - but the man saw he and Jack together where Jack’s apartment is and put it together fast enough.

“Yeah, he makes sure I get enough to eat,” Kauri replies, and puts his cheerful smile right back on. The scar has nearly healed up, it only itches a little under the bandages he keeps hidden under high-necked T-shirts and Dustin’s black sweatshirt. He’ll have to go back and apologize, soon - the sweatshirt doesn’t smell like Dustin anymore, and besides… the whole stupid fight was Kauri’s fault. “He does, and, you know, I have other friends.”

“Right.” The man watches him for a long second, thoughtfully, eating from his own small cheese fry plate with contentment. “I hope you have friends enough, kid. This isn’t an easy way to live, and you shouldn’t do it for long if you don’t have to.”

“What else would I do?” Kauri asks, carelessly, but somewhere deep down, it’s real. He can’t read or write, he’s hiding a barcode still tattooed on his left wrist, he still can’t look in a mirror or say his old name without passing out, and Owen is still out there, searching for him. What could he do but this?

“Yeah. I get you. But look, start asking yourself questions like that, you end up just… stuck, doing the same thing, for years and years.” The man sighs, glances back down at his fries, then back up. “It’s a shit way to live long-term, kiddo.”

“Maybe.” Kauri smiles at him, bright and sweet, and the man smiles back, goes back to munching his fries, and the two of them sit in silence for a while watching people walking by them through the windows. 

He picks up his silver spoon, grabs the last little bit of ice cream that’s held itself together, and pops it into his mouth. Creamy, vanilla-sweet, and the root beer flavor darker, just under the surface.

He gets a spoonful of root beer to wash it down.

“Just think of it this way,” Kauri says, finally. “This isn’t maybe the best choice, but it’s the one where I get to have root beer floats.”

The man gives him a long stare, and there’s a half-second of fear where Kauri thinks he knows what you are. Then he grins at Kauri, sits back with one arm up on the back of the booth, and holds his glass up in a lazy attempt at cheers. “To root beer floats, then.”

Kauri picks his big curvy glass up and clinks it against the man’s, root beer and vanilla mixed together swishing in the glass. “To root beer floats,” He echoes. “To doing one more thing I didn’t get to do before.”

“Cheers to that,” The man says, and goes back to watching out the window. 

Cheers to that, Kauri echoes in his thoughts, and slurps another spoonful of root beer right off his spoon with a smile.