#We don’t! If you are booked in for a fifteen minute time slot and it takes 45 minutes we run late. We lose our lunch or we go home late and

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

Just read a post about how you shouldn’t trust a doctor who rushes you and like, yes I fully understand the frustration, so here’s what you can do to stop yourself being rushed:

-ask for a double appointment

-ask for a triple appointment

-fuck it ask for an hour long appointment if you think it’ll help

-be outright about what you want/need from an appointment. If you need more time to process information, say that. If you need the doctor to write out all information, say that. If you have a complex case/long history, say that!

-list all the reasons why you want to see the doctor/vet that day and please don’t sugar coat it. “Been vomiting” is a ten minute fix. “Been vomiting after every meal for the past two years” is not. It needs a double appointment and possibly a referral too.

Doctors and vets are overworked to fuck and exploited to hell. Help us out a little, please

[daydreamingleclerc]

quiet - charles leclerc

summary: in which, you and charles spend some alone time together while away with the boys.

warnings: switch!charles, switch!reader, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, language, choking, praise kink, nipple stimulation, i think that’s it. hasn’t been proofread.

requested: no

notes: this is kinda inspired by the scene in conversations with friends when bobbi goes skinny dipping & leaves frances and nick alone by the lake, only this isn’t a PG version, plus, charles is a complete babygirl in swim shorts and nobody can escape it <3

requests are open, please see who i write for here and my masterlist here.

“come on, charles, we’re nearly there!”

your voice was laced with a pout, fingers interlaced with your boyfriends as you walked along the narrow path to the river. pierre, george, daniel and their respective others were wandering behind by several meters. you were the only one who knew the route to the river and you were desperate to show the boys the gorgeous views.

“i’m tired,” he whined, kicking his feet along the gravel like a child. you couldn’t help but laugh at his childishness, and continued to drag him along to the river. the small car park was a fifteen minute walk from the cabin you’d booked for the evening that backed onto the river. you used to come here as a child and you’d been desperate to take charles for months.

“baby, i can see the break in the trees, stop complaining.”

he pouted behind you and you continued to walk until you hit the break in the bushes, squeezing through it and admiring the view in front of you. lo and behold, you were right, a huge wooden cabin that almost looked like a treehouse in the corner, surrounded by green grass and a beautiful river that led into a gorgeous, clear watered lake.

“woah, Y/N, you were right this is beautiful,” george hummed as he pushed through the break, “i’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“i used to come here every summer as a child, it was a lot busier then but people aren’t fans of quiet, secluded holidays anymore so it’s nowhere near as busy as it used to be,” you smiled, looking up at all the boys. daniel wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “it’s all ours for the weekend, and i thought it would be good for you guys to get away.”

charles smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. you guided the group to the cabin, walking up the wooden staircase and pushing open the door. it was in just as pristine a condition now as it was when you were twelve. the entire thing was open, one large hexagonal room with frosted double glass doors leading to each bedroom. there was a large seating area, fully decked out with games consoles and television, and a fully functional kitchen. each bedroom had its own small bathroom with a small shower, and there was even an outside shower and hot tub.

“the rooms aren’t very soundproof,” you said, pulling open one of the bedroom doors and swinging your small suitcase onto the bed, “so if you’re gonna have sex-” you directed your gaze to daniel and his girlfriend, “-don’t be too loud.”

the eight of you changed and unpacked briefly, before daniel and pierre practically raced one another to the lake, just a short distance from the river. charles and george ran off after them, and you made your way over with the towels and sun cream.

it didn’t take long for the boys to slot in, and after an hour or so more of sunbathing, you felt droplets falling onto your stomach. panic set in for a minute that it was trying to rain, until you peeled your eyes open and saw charles dripping over you with a smirk.

“what’s up, sugarplum?” you asked, pulling your sunglasses from your eyes and squinting up at him.

“fancy a dip?” he raised an eyebrow, “we can make out under the water.”

you stifled a laugh, pulling him down by his ringed fingers. he looked devilishly handsome, in baby blue swim trunks with his sunglasses covering his eyes. “as good as that sounds,” you hummed, shifting closer to his face and wiping the wet curls from his forehead, “i thought we could make out somewhere else, a little less... crowded.”

charles’ face lit up, and you waited a few moments before sneaking off without being seen. you walked the short distance back to the cabin, and lead him over a small brown bridge that took you to the back of the cabin on the outdoor seating, with the hot tub and shower to the left, and the familiar sound and smell of a waterfall in the distance.

charles spotted the duel sun lounger, and took the opportunity to drag you towards it. his swim shorts were still damp, and they left water marks on the grey fabric, but you didn’t care. he laid back, and you climbed on top of him immediately, dipping your head down and kissing him gently. his hands rested on your waist, fingers squeezing into your back muscles gently, while you had your hands braced either side of his neck.

slowly, you started moving your hips, dragging them back and forth until you felt his dick harden underneath you. the feeling of that pressed up against your clit made you pant into his mouth, which only caused him to get harder.

his fingertips dug into your hips, nails grazing the skin gently as they prodded into the skin. your hands tangled in his wet hair and dragged along his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze that made him groan into your mouth. your hips continued to roll against his, and he whimpered into your mouth when it became evident that droplets of pre-cum soaked through his swimming shorts and onto the bottoms of your bikini, and it made you hum in appreciation.

“i’ve barely even touched you, baby, is this all for me?”

you couldn’t help but smirk at charles’ reaction, the gentle nod of his head and the lump bobbing in his throat. you kissed down his neck, making sure to leave a soft pink hickey in your wake. his hands travelled ho to the top of your bikini, fumbling with the bow he’d helped you tie earlier that afternoon. you tutted,

“charles, did i say you could take it off for me?” your boyfriend shook his head. “and did you ask?” charles shook his head again, and then gulped loudly.

“c-can i please take it off?” he asked, a soft pink blush forming on his cheeks.

you were constantly in awe of his innocence. you nodded, and immediately his hands worked quickly in shedding you of your bikini top, throwing it to the side. his mouth latched onto one of your nipples while his other hand massaged the other, and you moaned loudly at the feeling, continuing to grind your hips against his crotch.

you moved just a touch so that you were now grinding over his thigh, the friction even better than before. charles’ mouth and hand worked in tandem, and he whimpered every time you praised him or tugged on his hair. “fuck, charles, please don’t stop,” you moaned, eyelids fluttering closed in the pleasure, “it feels so fuckin’ good, you’re so good to me.”

with every thrust of your hips on his thigh, your knee bumped his dick gently and he had to refocus on pleasuring you, rather than letting himself go. your hips sped up, the slick of your wet pussy making the movements much more easy and pleasurable. he interchanged his mouth between your nipples now, circling and licking at one for a few seconds before doing the same to the other, his other hand always there to pinch and flick at the free one.

“fuck, fuck, charles i’m gonna cum!”

your hands buried themselves in his hair and you rocked your hips even faster against his thigh until the knot in your stomach burst, and you came with a cry of his name. he whimpered at the sound of your moans, fighting the urge to cum himself. he pulled off of your nipple with a pop and you pulled him up to look at you, interlocking your lips and tasting your salty skin on his tongue.

it didn’t take long before the roles were reversed, and charles’ strength was put to use when he rolled you around. your back hit the pillows and he was now on top of you, separating your legs with his knee. while you kissed, his fingers looped into the bows on your bikini bottoms, and he shedded you of them almost immediately.

your hands moved to the bow on his swimming trunks drawstrings and he tutted, “Y/N, baby,” his voice was sickly sweet, imitating you, “have you not learned anything?” one of his hands wrapped around your neck softly and squeezed, “i didn’t tell you to take them off of me, and you didn’t ask, remember?”

your throat had suddenly gone dry, and when you opened your mouth, you couldn’t speak. charles chuckled dryly, “you had so much to say earlier, baby, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy now.”

“please, charles, please fuck me,” you begged softly, his hand still wrapped around your neck, “please let me help you take them off so you can fuck me.”

he smirked, “much better.”

with that, you ridded him of his trunks, and gave a few experimental tugs of his dick, to which he grunted at. he pushed your legs open further with his spare hand, and lined himself up with your wet entrance. one of your hands wrapped around his shoulders, and he removed the hand from your neck and placed it to the side of your head, entwining your free hand with it.

he pushed himself inside of you, the stretch making you cry out. he didn’t really leave you much time to adjust, seeing as he was desperate to cum inside of you after your thigh riding stunt, but you had no complaints. you arched your back at his pace, profanities leaving your lips in short, quick pants as you did. charles’ head bowed down and he watched his dick disappear inside of you, each time coming out wetter.

he groaned when you clenched around his dick, resorting to his thrusts getting shallower and harsher so he didn’t have to leave your warmth any longer. you cried out when he hit the spot that made your toes curl, and he tilted his head back up to kiss you, swallowing your moans and biting on your lip.

“fuck, charles,” was all you could say.

“Y/N, you’re so fuckin’ - shit, you’re so fucking tight, babygirl,” he hissed, “gonna keep my cum inside you like a good girl, hm?”

you nodded, once again unable to speak as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm.

charles’ dick twitched inside of you and you left light scratches down his back when he picked his pace back up, fucking you through his orgasm. he groaned your name loudly, and the feeling of his cum seeping inside of you was enough to trigger your second orgasm, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and arched your back to feel the most from it.

his lips attached to your neck while you came, leaving his own light red mark on your skin so the pair of you were now even.

charles pulled out of you with a sigh, rolling over onto his back and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. he outstretched his other hand and you kissed it gently, regaining your breath as you fumbled for your swim wear.

the pair of you sheepishly made your way back to the group, unsure of how long you’d been away or even whether they’d spotted your absence. instead of going back to the lake, charles lounged beside you on the towels, and you lay your head on his chest and listened to the sound of your breathing.

“should we tell them we could hear them fucking from over here?” pierre asked george and daniel, standing up in the water with his hands on his hips.

the pair of them laughed, “nope, we’ll leave it to simmer for a few hours,” daniel said, “bring it up over dinner and watch their faces go bright red.”

[honeypiehotchner]

i don’t even know my last name (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Long time no see! Alright besties, you know the drill, time for a songfic. This one is based on Carrie Underwood’s “Last Name” and it’s very likely that it might have a part 2 ;)

Warnings: fluff, touch of angst, alluding to smut, reckless/drunk Hotch, lots of mentions of alcohol

“I really need to finish packing, you guys.”

“Packing can wait!” your friend Trinity cries, pulling you away from your closet. “We’re going out one more time before you leave us forever.”

“I’m not leaving forever—”

“Indefinitely is forever,” your other friend, Rob, says from the doorway.

The three of you have been an inseparable trio since moving here, and while they’re happy you got your dream job, they’re also extremely sad. The trio is breaking apart, like you all knew would happen eventually, but now it’s really happening.

And, to make it hurt even worse, it all happened so fast. Two weeks ago you got a call from the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. You talked for a few minutes over the phone, and he offered you the job right then. Apparently, the BAU has had an opening for a few months, and he had been searching for the right candidate since. He didn’t feel confident in anyone until you, and long story short, you said, “When can I start?”

Because of paperwork, background checks, and your current job — as well as packing your things and finding a place in Virginia to live — you couldn’t start right away. But two weeks is still quick, and your head is still reeling from it all.

Yet your friends want to go out.

It doesn’t take much convincing for you to put on stilettos and follow Trinity and Rob out the door. You don’t know when you’ll get to see them again, let alone go out like this, so you bite. And the three of you head into downtown Las Vegas.

+++

A case in Vegas has its many perks. For one, Dr. Reid gets to see his mother. And for two, Hotch gets to watch the rest of his team get absolutely shitfaced.

Rossi smokes cigars in the lounge, Morgan flirts his way into buying a woman a drink, JJ is off at the slots with a martini, and Prentiss is gone within half an hour, most likely back to a hotel room with a woman.

Hotch knows better than to get drunk on a work trip. They are off for now, having solved the case earlier today, but it’s still a work trip, and they still have to travel home tomorrow. Knowing this, though, doesn’t stop him from throwing back a couple shots of vodka, nursing a second glass of whiskey once they’re down.

He’s feeling the beginnings of a buzz when a woman slides up next to him at the bar with two friends. They’re barely buzzed, but they’re about to be drunk with the amount of shots they ordered. He chuckles quietly to himself, sipping his whiskey.

The next thing he knows, he’s agreeing to a round of shots with the group, and the woman putting her hand on his arm.

+++

You wake to a pounding headache, a vibrating mattress, and— in your bra and panties.

In only your bra and panties.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter, sitting up in bed. Thankfully, you’re alone, but you didn’t book rooms. Because you live fifteen minutes away from the strip. So you’re in someone’s room, you just don’t know who. Based on the looks of the room, the someone is rich.

The mattress keeps buzzing, and you eventually realize it’s your phone. Grabbing it, you see it’s Rob calling you, and that he and Trinity have tried calling like twelve times each.

“Hello?”

“Finally!” Rob says, in pure relief. “Where the hell are you?”

“Where the hell are you?” you fire back. “Did we book rooms or something?” Please say yes. Please say you’re two doors down.

“Uh…no,” Trinity says. “We’re at the apartment. Are you in a fucking hotel room?”

“Who’s with you?” Rob juts in.

“No one,” you reply quickly. “I’m alone. Surprisingly.”

“Hmmm—”

“Can you guys just come pick me up? I’m starving and I need to finish packing today.”

“Alright, alright, send us your location, we got you.”

“Thanks.” After hanging up, you send your location, your eyes widening when you see what it says. You’re in what might be the most expensive hotel in all of Las Vegas.

Who the fuck did you come here with?

+++

Hotch is the first one on the jet, and arguably the one with the worst hangover. Prentiss is a strong second.

“Looks like everyone had fun nights,” Rossi comments leisurely. “Anyone want to share?”

“Rossi, please,” Prentiss whispers. “Be quiet.”

Everyone shares a look and smiles, except Hotch.

Hotch is too busy staring at something in the palm of his hand. A cheap, gold ring.

Not the one from his marriage to Haley, because that one is in his desk drawer at home. This one is brand new. And he didn’t have it before last night.

Combine that with the fact that he woke up in only his boxers, clothes thrown all around his hotel room, and a sleeping woman next to him — it can only mean one thing.

He got married last night. In fucking Vegas.

+++

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

In the middle of finding your clothes (which were actually piled on the chair, though you’re sure that isn’t where Drunk You put them), you find a polaroid picture of who must be whose room this is.

And who, apparently, is your husband.

The picture is blurry at best, and so overexposed that if it weren’t for your clothes, you wouldn’t be even remotely certain that it’s you in the photo. The man next to you has dark hair and is much taller than you, but that’s about all you can definitively say — and that’s probably half of Vegas’ male population.

Oh, and the picture was definitely taken at one of those “white churches” on the strip where drunk idiots elope with random strangers.

Now, the ring on your finger makes a lot more sense, though that doesn’t make you want it any more than you did prior to this realization. It’s a cheap diamond ring anyway, probably not even real, probably made of glass. It’s pretty, you’ll give your husband that, but it definitely looks like it came out of a machine for two quarters.

Scoffing to yourself, you take the ring off and slip it into your pocket.

The last thing you need is for Trinity and Rob to ask you why you’re wearing a ring.

+++

The next day, you’re moving into your new apartment in Virginia. It’s a bittersweet moment, starting a new life, and leaving your friends behind.

Slowly and steadily, you’re unpacking boxes, putting up pictures, anything to make it homier in the midst of the cardboard.

You find the polaroid that you stashed, a smile crossing your lips. His identity might be a mystery, but part of you loves him just a little. Obviously, you aren’t in love with him — or, who knows, maybe when you were drunk you were in love with him. You did marry him, for god’s sake. You have the ring to prove it.

The ring that is hidden in your wallet.

Polaroid still in hand, you walk into the living area to grab your purse. Unzipping your wallet, you dig around for the ring. In the midst of silver and copper, you find the cheap, Vegas wedding ring.

Smiling softly, you slide it over your ring finger on your left hand.

The action jogs a quiet, hazy memory.

A very, very drunk, “Do you love me?” coming from your lips.

And a very sincere, “I do.”

Whether or not it’s a real memory, you don’t know, or care. You just wish you could reply to him now, whoever he is, and tell him that even sober, you love him still.

+++

Aaron Hotchner has had a long few days.

Since returning from the case in Vegas, the team took a day off, but Hotch didn’t. Too much paperwork to fill out, too many new cases to go over, and too many thoughts about her.

His wife.

He swore that after Haley, he would never get married again. He knows better now.

Or at least, he thought he did. Clearly, he didn’t, since he got married while drunk in Las Vegas, to a woman he barely knows. And, to make matters worse, there are no ways of contacting her.

So now she’s lost. And damn him, he misses her.

“Early bird again,” Rossi comments, not bothering to knock on Hotch’s office door.

Hotch doesn’t even look up.

“Or late bird,” Rossi says, sitting down on Hotch’s couch. “Let me guess, no sleep last night?”

“I tried,” Hotch says, pointing to the couch, but still not raising his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Missing your wife?”

“Haley and I just spoke yesterday—”

“I’m not talking about Haley.”

Hotch finally lifts his eyes.

Rossi barely smiles. “How do you think a very intoxicated Aaron made it back to his hotel room?”

Hotch puts his pen down, leaning back in his chair. “Do you remember her name?”

“She didn’t say,” Rossi answers. “She was also very drunk.”

“I don’t remember either,” Hotch admits.

“You called her ‘honey’ all night, so I thought that was her name.”

Hotch gives his friend a glare.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little fun in Vegas.”

“Getting married isn’t fun.”

“It seemed like it was.”

“And now she’s gone,” Hotch replies, maybe a little too harsh. “I’m here, and she’s— She’s wherever she lives.”

“Alright,” Rossi knows when Aaron is done listening. “You ready to meet the new agent?”

Hotch glances at his watch. “If she arrives in the next fifteen minutes.”

“Time will tell,” Rossi stands. “Want a coffee?”

“Sure,” Hotch nods, and Rossi leaves without another word.

+++

You’re late. You are so late and you’re going to lose this job before your first day even starts.

Swiping your ID, you enter the building, heading for the elevator. You’re ready to start sweating by the time you reach the BAU’s floor. You accidentally slept through your first set of alarms, so you didn’t technically wake up late, but you woke up later than you wanted to.

Pushing through the glass doors, you follow the instructions you were given via email and head up the small staircase to your new boss’s office.

Halfway through knocking, you say, “I’m so sorry sir, I’m late—”

There, standing up at the desk, buttoning his jacket, is him.

Your husband.

“Y/N,” Aaron says, your name falling from his lips like muscle memory. It’s you.

“Aaron,” you reply. “That’s— I’ve been wracking my brain for two days trying to think of your name and it’s Aaron.”

“You never told me your name,” he says. “I think if you had…”

“You would’ve known it was me immediately,” you finish. “How did I not recognize your voice? We talked on the phone and everything. How did you not recognize my voice?”

“You were already fairly intoxicated when you met me at the bar.”

“That’s…” you pause, chuckling, rubbing your forehead. “I’m so sorry. It was a farewell, last hurrah kind of night before I moved out here. I really did not expect— What?”

Aaron is staring hard at your left hand. “Is that…?”

“What?”

“The ring,” Aaron says, then shows you his left hand. “You’re wearing yours too.”

“Oh,” you begin twisting it around your finger, embarrassed. “I wanted to keep it on, but I know that’s silly. Our first order of business is probably divorce papers.”

That’s the last thing Aaron has on his mind. “Do you want to?” he asks. “I was— I mean, if you don’t want to stay married, then absolutely, we can get the paperwork, but…”

“If I don’t want to get the divorce?” You try not to sound too hopeful, but you can’t help it. “Because I really don’t want to.”

Aaron smiles, relieved. “Then I think our first order of business is breakfast. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head. “I’m starving.”

Aaron opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by Rossi entering the office with two cups of coffee and a stunned look on his face.

“Well. The runaway bride came back.”

“Did you meet me when I was drunk?” you ask. “You look vaguely familiar.”

“David Rossi, and yes,” he introduces himself, then hands you one of the cups. “I walked you and Aaron back to his room. You were both, well, let’s just say you were far past drunk.”

“Smashed,” you offer. “I was gone. Completely smashed. Thank you for the coffee, much needed.”

“You’re welcome,” Rossi nods. “And here’s yours,” he hands it off to Aaron. “So, when’s the divorce party?”

You look between Aaron and Rossi, and Aaron smiles. “Not anytime soon,” he says.

“We’re gonna…” you pause, shrugging. “See where it goes, I guess.”

Rossi raises his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.” He turns and leaves without another word, shaking his head to himself.

Aaron walks around his desk, shutting the door and pulling the blinds.

“The team can be nosy,” he explains. “But they mean well.”

“My friends are the same way,” you laugh. “They wouldn’t stop questioning me that morning when I woke up in your hotel room.”

“Ah,” he nods. “I’m sorry. I should’ve left a note or something.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “But, I think I know exactly where we should start.”

Aaron furrows his eyebrows. “Where?”

“What all did Drunk Me tell you?”

“A lot,” Aaron smiles, stretching his hand out toward his couch. “Let’s sit down.”

[writingmaneskin]

My Sweet Valentine - A Victoria De Angelis Blurb

Pairings: Vic De Angelis x Fem! Reader

Words: 1.6k

Fluff

Description: Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, my loves <3

MASTERLIST

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His phone rang showing his best friend’s face and the ringtone associated with her.

“Hello, Chaos.”

“No time for sarcasm or sass.” Vic snapped at Damiano, catching his attention.

“What’s going on?” He asked, now worried.

“The gifts are not ready yet.” Vic complained.

“So? You have plenty of time, it’s still two days away. Didn’t you say that they promised that they’d be ready by Valentine’s day?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO PACKAGE THEM AND GET THEM ALL CUTE. THAT’S THE BIG PROBLEM.”

Dami realised that she was in meltdown mode and to calm her down, there was only one thing to do.

“Tell me what you ordered for her again and I’ll help you get the rest ready while we wait for the gifts.” He promised, putting his earbuds in to listen to Victoria talk while he got ready to go meet her.

“So… first I went through pictures that we’ve taken together and printed them like polaroids and put together a scrapbook because Y/N loves those.” Vic explained, proud of herself. She had gone through her phone, picked out screenshots of cute texts you two had exchanged, moments from your dates, little memorabilia that she had kept related to you and your relationship.

“That’s very thoughtful, Vic.” Dami commented, as he put his shirt on.

“I know! And I ordered two matching necklaces for us, with pictures and engravings… I hope they just get done in time. The jeweller said that they would take just another day…”

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, wanting to help Vic and knowing very well that he would never hear the end of the stories about that special Valentine’s day. But he was excited for you two all the same.

“I need you to check that the reservations for the restaurant are still valid and that everything is perfect, I’ve got the rest. Thank you, love you so much, okay byeee.” She said and hung up on him, a text of the restaurant details coming up moments later.

**

He called the restaurant and was checking the reservation only a few moments later.

“Well, we are afraid that there has been a mistake..” The person on the other side of the line told Dami.

“What do you mean, a mistake?” He was glad that he was dealing with this and not Victoria because a second fluke would have made her have a meltdown.

“We double booked the reservation and there is actually someone else coming on that time slot for that table only fifteen minutes earlier. I feel like you understand that they surely will not be done with their meal in fifteen minutes on Valentine’s Day.”

“Fine, then change the table.” Dami tried to convince them.

“I am sure you can also understand that as it is Valentine’s day, there are no available tables.” The person on the other side of the phone sounded exceedingly nervous.

“Well, my boss will be very upset to learn about this.” He told them. “How would you be able to compensate for this inconvenience?”

“We would have to talk to management and perhaps give your boss a discount at a later visit…”

Dami thought about how he would have to tell Vic about the messed up plans.

“Can we order catering? Someone will come by and pick up the order that we make for the dinner a bit before the time of the failed reservation?”

“I have to ask, give me one moment, please.” Damiano was put on hold and he started pacing the room while the boring melody sounded on the other side.

“Mr. David?” The line picked up again, the already familiar voice sounding on the other side.

“Sì?”

“Please have Ms. De Angelis pick out the food that she would like to have ordered and we will make sure to have it ready for picking up and delivery by reservation time. We will await your call.”

**

“Crisis averted.” Damiano walked into Vic and your apartment with the food, just in time on Valentine’s day.

“She’ll be here any minute, what do you mean crisis averted?” Vic was still panicking. Her makeup was only half done.

“Go finish getting ready, I’ll set the table and leave.” He kissed her cheek and went into the living room and kitchen area to set everything up.

Vic stood in front of the mirror and shakily finished her makeup. She fixed her bangs, put on a bit of mascara and applied the red lipstick carefully. She made sure her outfit was impeccable before going out to the living room where her friend was putting the last details out.

“It looks incredible, thank you for your help.” She smiled at the singer, who only winked.

“Have fun, you crazy kids.” He chuckled before leaving the apartment a few minutes later.

**

You felt nervous for your first Valentine’s day with Vic but it was also so exciting. Your relationship was almost at an anniversary but it was the first big celebration that the two of you were having aside from birthdays and family gatherings.

You wanted it to be perfect.

For her gift you had gotten her tickets to see Arctic Monkeys live and also a big bouquet of her favourite flowers and a big box of her favourite sweets but a part of you worried whether or not it would be enough.

When she told you that the plans that she had made changed, your heart had sunken a bit, as you worried that she wouldn’t make time at all.

All of your worries went out of the window the minute you walked into your apartment and the romance that was everywhere hit you.

“Y/N?” Vic called and her eyes went wide when she took you in with the flowers and in your hand. “What did you do?” The bassist teared up.

You managed to take off your shoes without leaning down and so you stepped out of them and moved closer to her, giving her the big bouquet.

“Happy Valentine’s day, my love.” You smiled and kissed her gently.

“Happy Valentine’s day, amore.” She affirmed and kissed back.

“These are for you.” You smiled as she beamed at the flowers.

“Thank you.” She pressed another kiss to your lips before going into the kitchen to put them in water.

“Don’t think you’ll get off that easy…” You told her as you walked in the living room and saw the tea light candles that she had light everywhere and the beautiful setting that she had created for your dinner.

You jumped a little when she wrapped her arms around your middle.

You wanted to cry.

“Our reservation might have fallen through, but that does not mean I won’t spoil you, my love.”

The two of you sat at the table and you opened the bottle of wine that she handed you. Everything looked perfect. So much so that you worried if what you had gotten her would be enough.

“Why are you nervous, cara?” Vic asked, reaching to touch your hand.

“This is all perfect, Vic. You truly outdid yourself.” You replied, not wanting to feed into your insecurities.

“My love deserves only the best.” Vic affirmed you.

The meal was more than lovely and you two talked a lot about all sorts of different things and as time passed, your nerves were eased and you were more happy than anything.

“I have something for you.” Vic finally announced as you both finished the main course.

“I have something for you too.”

Vic smiled and went to the other room briefly, as you went to get her gift too.

“I want to go first.” She told you and handed you a small box. Your hands shook as you reached for it and tears flooded your eyes the second you saw the two matching necklaces. You picked one of them up and saw a picture that the two of you had taken with Chili.

“They match, I wanted us to have something matching so you know… when we are not together we miss each other a bit less. That way you’ll always be with me even when I am not here and you’ll always have me with you.”

“I love you.” You half-sobbed and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“I love you too.” She wiped your face carefully and put the necklace on you.

“I have a second gift too.”

“Show me, please.” You begged, bringing a smile to her face. She gave you the bigger box and you opened it to find the big scrapbook that she had made. Crying was inevitable as you went through the pages and saw how much thought and love she had put in making this for you.

You put it down carefully and pulled her in your arms. “Thank you, I love you so much.” You told her.

“I love you too, puppy.” She kissed you gently. “May I see my gift?”

“Yes, of course.” She carefully wiped your face with another tissue before sitting back on her chair.

You gave her the envelope where you had put the tickets and watched as her face lit up when she realised what you had done. You had gotten the two of you front row tickets for the next show that Arctic Monkeys would be playing in Italy. You had made sure that she would have time off then before buying them and it all aligned perfectly.

“We are seeing Arctic Monkeys?” She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“We are seeing Arctic Monkeys.” You affirmed.

“It’s a memory that we’ll add to the scrapbook.” Her eyes were full of so much light, that your heart was soaring from being able to make her so happy with something so…simple. Taking her to see her favourite band.

“I look forward to adding more memories to the scrapbook.” You told her and kissed her again.

"I look forward to making many more scrapbooks with you, all of them full of memories." She smiled at you.

[tennessoui]

if you wrote obikin for #4 with anakin as a single parent and obi-wan as luke and leia's teacher i would simply die happy!!

here it is!!! thank you so much!

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU (modern!AU)(DinLuke shows up as little kids)(2.4k)(whoops)

Anakin stares across the table at Luke, who gnaws on a slice of grilled cheese, carefully leaving the crusts behind. Oh god, he’d forgotten to cut them off of Luke’s sandwich, had cut them off of Leia’s instead, even though she didn’t mind them. And of course they hadn’t told him either. He can’t tell if he’s been forgiven for his error or if it will come back to haunt him later tonight when he tries to put the twins to bed at eight.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I think I’m just a little confused.”

Leia looks up. She loves when her father is a little confused because it means Luke is probably a bit in trouble and she gets to be the one to set the record straight for him.

Which isn’t to say Leia is a tattle-tale. Anakin’s seen her watch Luke hit another child upside the head with a toy train and then say absolutely nothing when questioned by the daycare instructor.

Daddy’s interrogations are just a special case where she can become a guilt-free turncoat.

“How did you get a Unicorn sticker in art class?” he asks.

The Unicorn stickers, of course, mean unsatisfactory.

He pays extra money for his children to be coddled and kept away from words like Fail and Unsatisfactory, even though that’s what all the parents know the stickers mean. As long as the children don't yet.

“And I don’t understand the rainbow sticker at all,” he continues helplessly, regarding the piece of artwork in front of him, where a handful of dried macaroni noodles are lacklusterly glued to the page.

“The Unicorn sticker means it was bad, but the rainbow sticker means that Mr. Kenobi forgives him,” Leia pipes up, leaning across the table to take the icky crusts from her brother’s plate and dipping them into her tomato soup.

“But it was dry macaroni,” Anakin says incredulously. Luke’s eyes start getting misty as he stares resolutely down at his plate. That’s the last thing Anakin wants. But he just doesn’t understand. Luke’s the most creative of both of his children, has seemed to take after Anakin in that way. Last Christmas, Anakin had given him a model train set that he’d put together inside of a week. If he can do that, he can do a self-portrait in dry macaroni.

“He gave Din all of his noodles,” Leia reports.

“Didn’t Din have any?” Anakin asks, feeling completely out of his element and also sort of like a detective trying to solve a cold case.

“He wanted to save them for his puppy,” Luke mumbles. “They just got him and they can’t figure out what he eats, so Din thought he could try macaroni because I told him I like macaroni and cheese a lot.”

Anakin is on the cliff of despair, but he can’t exactly ask whether or not this Din knows there’s a difference between the dried macaroni from art class and boxed macaroni and cheese from Kraft. He’s not sure he even wants to know the answer.

“And then Luke didn’t have a lot left for his picture,” Leia finishes the story and her soup in one fell swoop.

“Couldn’t you have asked Mr. Kenobi for more?” Anakin asks Luke who shakes his head but doesn’t seem to want to elaborate. Anakin turns only slightly pleading eyes to Leia, who is the expert on anything her brother doesn’t want to say.

“Mr. Kenobi sits at the front, and Luke sat at the back today so it was really far.”

“But you always sit at the front!” Anakin says, appalled. Sure, he hadn’t managed to make it to the most recent round of parent-teacher conferences due to an unfortunately timed shift at the garage, but he knows where his kids sit in a classroom.

Luke mumbles something into his bowl.

“What was that?” Anakin asks.

Leia translates. “Din doesn’t sit at the front,” she says.

Anakin sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his mouth. Luke has a crush. His son, Luke, has his very first crush on a boy and he’s already doing stupid things in order to see the boy. Oh no. Oh god. Of all the things to take after Anakin on, it’s this one.

“Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Unicorns aren’t so bad.”

“Way better than giraffes,” Leia tells her brother bracingly, seeming to know instinctively that the gossiping part of this conversation is over. “And you got a rainbow, which means Mr. Kenobi isn’t mad.”

Anakin wonders, with the context, if that’s actually what the rainbow means, or if Mr. Kenobi isn’t just incredibly observant.

“TV time, kids,” he says, only feeling sort of bad about the screentime or whatever, as Luke perks up and runs with Leia into the living room.

After five minutes to make sure they’ve successfully turned on and found a child-appropriate show, Anakin gathers the dishes and loads the washer. Then he sighs as loud as he can without disrupting the kids.

Then he pulls out his phone and the school directory and finds the email for one Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, art teacher.

It takes him twenty minutes to figure out an email that doesn’t sound too judgemental, harsh, worried, skeptical, or angry. It takes another five minutes to figure out how to sign off on it. Kind regards? Best? Thanks? Sincerely? What is the etiquette for emailing your son’s art teacher to arrange a meeting because you’re worried your son will fail the class simply because he’s inherited terrible genes from his father?

It takes ten minutes, in the end, for Mr. Kenobi to email back, and he does so with a very straightforward message. He’s available to chat after school hours tomorrow, if it works for Anakin.

Anakin pulls up his work schedule. He’s supposed to work until five in the evening tomorrow, has already booked a slot at the after-care program for the twins. But.

He texts Ahsoka to ask if she could cover the last few hours of his shift. She texts back a string of rather offensive emojis, but settles down when he tells her it’s for his kids. Technically, he isn’t even lying. He’s just being overbearing.

He spends another fifteen minutes trying to compose a response email in between making sure the kids brush their teeth, wash behind their ears, and have their bags packed for the morning. He’s so stressed out by it that he’s not even sure he includes a signature at all before he hits send. God. Meeting Mr. Kenobi had better be worth all of this stress.

---

Finding Mr. Kenobi’s classroom is almost more stress than the correspondence from the night before had been. The only reason Anakin doesn’t sit down and cry against the garishly yellow brick lining the hallways is that he keeps telling himself that if his two seven-year-olds can do this, Anakin surely can.

The art classroom is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the school and it takes three wrong turns and one accidental entrance into a thankfully deserted first grade room for Anakin to find it. He knocks on the open door and then decides he should call as well to announce his presence. “Uh, Mr. Kenobi? I’m Anakin. Skywalker. We talked last night?” He takes a couple of steps into the room, which is lined in children’s art and paint-stained tables.

A man emerges from a backroom, dressed in a very loose and paint-flecked denim shirt over a white tank top and a pair of slacks. He’s wearing a pair of thick glasses that he takes off as soon as he sees Anakin. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair, a sort of bronzed auburn, neatly combed.

He’s holding a paintbrush in one hand, and still, of course, Anakin’s dumb brain overrides the part of him that’s saying, This is clearly Mr. Kenobi in favor saying, quite politely, “Oh! I’m sorry. Is Mr. Kenobi back there?”

The man who could not possibly be more obviously the art teacher raises an amused eyebrow.

Look. No one told Anakin that elementary school art teachers could be so attractive. He’d not done anything to prepare for this.

“You must be Luke’s father,” Mr. Kenobi says, waving him forward.

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asks, a tad too defensively, thinking of his own self-deprecating thoughts last night about Luke taking after him when it comes to being sort of stupid around people they liked. He’s just being paranoid.

“The...last...name,” now Mr. Kenobi is definitely trying to hide his smile and Anakin wants to die. “Would you like to sit?”

Anakin does so rather graciously, given the circumstances. He even makes sure he keeps their chairs very far apart. Mostly in order to preserve his own dignity, but he thinks he should get credit for his self-control at this spur of the moment single-parent-hot-teacher conference.

“I’m sorry for my appearance,” Mr. Kenobi says, pulling the oversized button up closed over his tank top. “I must admit, I mostly forgot you were coming by. I was working on one of my own projects.”

“You paint?” Anakin asks.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head slightly and flicks his eyes around the room as if in answer.

Anakin flushes but digs his heels in. “Well, I don’t know,” he mumbles mulishly. “Do math teachers do math in their spare time?”

This startles a laugh out of the teacher, which makes some long forgotten part of Anakin’s psyche sit up and preen. “I’m sure some of them do,” he says. “No, I do art mostly for the town right now. I’m working on a series of pieces for the public library at the moment.”

Anakin tries his hardest not to obviously melt, but Mr. Kenobi has not looked away from his face much so surely he can see it in his eyes.

“That’s quite. Nice,” Anakin says, coughing into his fist.

“And what do you do?” Mr. Kenobi asks in a way that’s just on the other side of polite. Anakin has the strange thought that if they had cups of coffee between them, he’d feel like he was on a very casual first date.

He has to shake his head to rid himself of that idea. “I’m a mechanic,” he says.

Mr. Kenobi looks interested, of all things. Most people don’t. Most people make some sort of assumption about him, about his life, his ability to parent his children, as if they’re not the ones rolling into his shop at 5:54 pm because their car is “making a funny noise”.

But Mr. Kenobi just looks interested.

“Oh?” He says. “That makes sense. Leia is always talking about how her father can fix anything.”

“Well,” Anakin blushes and looks away. “You know kids. Turn it off and turn it back on usually blows their minds.”

Mr. Kenobi smiles indulgently before clearing his throat. “You wanted to talk about Luke?”

“Oh! Yes!” He had come here with the express desire to talk about Luke with Mr. Kenobi. Not secure a date with Mr. Kenobi. “I saw that Luke got a... unicorn...and a rainbow on his last project, and it made me worry.”

It sounds very, very overbearing coming out of his mouth. This is an elementary school art class. Why did he think that he should come in and talk to a teacher over his son’s bad grade? Especially when it was pretty clear Luke deserved it.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head in confusion. “Well, yes, I suppose I usually give Luke two suns on his work, so I understand if the change was upsetting to you.”

“And we’re saying that two suns are good?” Anakin checks, feeling very out of his element here.

“Oh, yes, very good,” Mr. Kenobi assures him. “But his last project wasn’t. Well.”

“He says he got distracted,” Anakin mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Over a boy.”

“Haven’t we all been there,” Mr. Kenobi murmurs, sounding very amused. Anakin peeks over his fingers at this declaration.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “That’s sort of exactly what I thought.”

Mr. Kenobi clears his throat again. “Well. That’s why I gave him the unicorn then. It was a bit of bad work, but a very rare showing of it. And the rainbow, to signify that I know he’ll be back to normal again next time. You shouldn’t worry about this one project either, Mr. Skywalker. I do give final grades holistically, not weighted by any one assignment. This is, after all, a children’s art class.”

Anakin wants to thunk his head on the table in front of him. “You do know that all the parents think unicorn means unsatisfactory, right?”

“Why?” Mr. Kenobi has the nerve to look shocked.

“They both start with U, I don’t know,” Anakin says, waving an agitated hand through the air.

“Well, sometimes parents can be quite stupid,” Mr. Kenobi says primly and then looks horrified at himself. “Please don’t tell them I said that.”

Anakin laughs and gets to his feet reluctantly. His worries over Luke have been dealt with, but he finds himself very reluctant to leave.

“Well,” he says slowly, eyes firmly looking only at Mr. Kenobi’s face, “Thank you for meeting with me. I guess you don’t get many frantic parent-teacher conferences over a unicorn sticker.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand in embarrassment. He can admit now that perhaps he had overreacted.

Mr. Kenobi places his hand delicately over the hand Anakin still has on the table, just for a second, squeezing it with enough pressure that Anakin has to look up at him again. “Only the best parents,” he says with a half-smile.

Anakin finds himself grinning back, unwilling to move his hand now that Kenobi’s touching it. “And, um. If you ever take the kids on an art museum tour or something, and you need chaperones….give me a call.”

“Would I have to wait that long?” Kenobi asks innocently.

Anakin’s never shaken his head no so quickly before. “Any time,” he tells the man very seriously, already backing out of the room. “Before you think too much about it and decide not to would probably be preferable.”

Mr. Kenobi laughs. “I’m sure I’ll think about it a lot,” he says as he turns to go back to his art studio. He calls over his shoulder. “In bed, tonight.”

Anakin trips over a child-sized easel with a loud clatter and an even louder curse, and he can’t decide which of the two should be more thankful school is out for the day. Probably Mr. Kenobi. Yeah. Probably definitely Mr. Kenobi.

[moldisgoodforyou]

florence (iv)

warnings: smut!! in the middle but you can see it coming if u wanna skip over it

wordcount: 8.3k

______

Six and a half hours and two transfers later on the train, Sophie and Rafe made it to Florence. They’d fallen asleep on each other multiple times and woken up with cricks in their necks or imprints of each other’s clothing onto their cheeks, and were both running on little sleep - somehow, he’d convinced her to go skinny dipping off a little cove at 2am the night before. She lasted about ten minutes in the water with him before she spotted someone with a flashlight along the beach and freaked, practically sprinting out of the water to pull her wet clothes back on and shove Rafe’s at him. (He’d hissed at her to relax until they heard yelling of “arrêter! Policiers!” They put together pretty quickly that it was “stop! Police!” and booked it back to the hotel, giggling the whole way.)

Despite Rafe’s tired grumblings, she made him freshen up and walk with her to go get dinner at a place a few blocks from the hostel. It was only 6, but they both hadn’t eaten in a while and had to be up early for an architecture tour Sophie had scheduled at 8am. He took two looks at the menu before handing it to her - she raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “You know what you’re getting?”

“It’s Italy. I want pasta every day.”

“Every day.” She repeated, doubtful.

“Every day. And gelato, every day. Those are my two requests.” He nodded, sure of himself.

“I think we can manage that. Did you learn Italian too over the summer, you want to order for us?” She teased, holding back a smile.

“C’mon, my Spanish wasn’t that terrible. It really wasn’t.” He protested, kicking her gently under the table.

She kicked him back reflexively, maybe a little too hard, and just rolled her eyes when he made a show of dramatically grabbing his leg. “It wasn’t awful. You just had zero accent, that’s kind of important.”

“Whatever, I’ll work on it.” He grinned. “You can teach me where to put my tongue.”

“Your ability to make anything sexual is impressive.”

“Wasn’t even sexual, but good job on you for twisting it.” He smirked, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. “Hey. Guess what.”

She did the same, reaching out and taking his hand. “What.”

“We’re in Italy.” He whispered conspiratorially, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah, and…?”

“When you were drunk on FaceTime once, you told me we needed to have sex in every country.”

She blushed, raising her eyebrows. “Did I?”

“You did, and I’m holding you to it. I got us single rooms in the hostels for a reason.” Rafe wiggled his eyebrows back with a smile, trying to get her to laugh. “But there’s like, a 98% chance I fall asleep on you if we try anything tonight, so we can check that off the list tomorrow.”

She had to hide a giggle as their waiter came over to take their order, turning it into a cough into her elbow. When the waiter left she shook her head, grinning. “Tomorrow’s fine. I appreciate the honesty.”

“Any time.”

_______

The next morning, Sophie woke up to her third alarm in a row with Rafe still blissfully asleep next to her, his arm curled around her middle and her leg thrown over his waist. She nudged her head up, knocking against his chin. “Hey.”

He stirred just enough to pull her closer and bury his face into her hair. “Shh. Sleeping.”

“We gotta get up, Rafe, we need breakfast before our tour.” She started scratching gentle circles on his chest, placing short kisses up along his neck. “Up.”

“If you keep doing that something else is going to get up.” He mumbled, humming contentedly with his eyes still shut. The hostel was busy with other kids their age and he’d woken up to the sound of two groups trying to open their door - twice - and their drunken whisper-yells. Sophie, of course, slept peacefully through the whole thing.

“We don’t have time for that.” She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose and tried squirming from his grip unsuccessfully. “Come on.”

“Five minutes.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“...Fine.” She settled her head back onto the pillow, sighing as he grinned and nuzzled against her. “Only ‘cause you’re warm.”

“Yeah, what the fuck is up with the temps? This place is an icebox.” He replied, slipping his hand under her shirt and cupping her breast.

“Rafe.” She elbowed at him, a warning tone to her voice.

“M’ just holding it. You’re warm.” He argued, brushing his thumb over her nipple and smiling to himself when she let out a tiny whine. She made the mistake of pressing her hips back into him, just a little, and he groaned quietly into her ear. “Careful there.”

“You’re not seriously - oh my god, Rafe.”

He wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, just pushed his hips against her ass. “Can’t help it. I have my beautiful girlfriend in my bed that I haven’t seen in months.”

“It wasn’t even that long -”

“It was a whole quarter of a year without you, Sophie, now hush and let me sleep.” His tone took on a teasing lilt and he brushed his fingers down her stomach, making her tense. “Unless you’d like to do something else.”

“We don’t have time.” She told him firmly, knocking his hand away. He grumbled and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, settling his arm around her waist instead. “Lame.”

“You’re lame.”

“Okay. Good comeback. You’ve lost your touch.” He quipped with a tone of amusement, pulling her close again. Her alarm went off and he sighed dramatically, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Let’s skip.”

“We’re not skipping, we might never be in Florence again and I’ve wanted to see the Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio for years.” She twisted in his grip just enough to place a quick kiss on his lips then sit up, stretching. “Get up.”

“I’ll bring you back - no, Sophie, stay -” He protested weakly, reaching for her.

She smiled fondly at the way he was all squinty in the mornings, adjusting to the lights and trying to find his glasses, but her smile gave way to a pout she knew Rafe couldn’t say no to. “Baby, please? I don’t want to be late.”

“Fine.” He yawned and dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his glasses and shoved his feet into sneakers, just wearing his boxers. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“You’re not gonna at least throw on a shirt? Or shorts?” She questioned, eyeing him over with no shame.

He caught her gaze and flexed his chest, smirking. “Not if you’re enjoying the show.”

“You’re the worst.” She informed him, leaning over to give him a kick to the ass. “Go.”

As requested, she pulled out his clothes for the day after she got ready, finding a certain kind of pride in the fact that he trusted her in his appearance. She grabbed his wallet from the desk too, ready to stick it in her backpack, but paused when she realized it was a little thicker than normal, barely snapping shut. Curiosity got the best of her and she flicked open the wallet, pulling out a couple wrinkled and worn pieces of paper from one of the slots.

Rafe returned just as she was smoothing it open. “What are you doing?”

She startled, quickly turning and holding the paper behind her back. “Nothing! Just putting your wallet in my bag. So we didn’t forget.” She clarified quickly, cheeks blooming red at being caught.

He smirked, kicking off his shoes and striding closer. “If you wanted money, you could’ve just asked.” He teased, reaching around behind her. “Whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” She twisted, trying to set it on the desk without him noticing, completely unsubtle.

“Oh. You found your letters?”

Sophie paused. “My letters?”

“Yeah, that’s what they are.” He nodded and started pulling on his clothes for the day.

She brought it from behind her back to read and brightened, realizing it was two scraps from the many letters she’d sent to him when they were apart. He’d just cut out the two sappiest paragraphs she’d written, embarrassingly, as she found it much easier to express the extent of her love for him through writing rather than face to face. She pouted a little, skimming over them. “Baby.”

He turned back to her and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, shaking his head. “Hm? No pouting, little fish.”

“Little fish?” She quirked her brow, confused.

“Yeah, remember that one time you blamed your crying during finals week on being a Pisces moon? Pisces is the fish, I think.” Rafe reasoned, taking the papers out of her hand and carefully tucked them into a zippered pocket of his suitcase. “Since you’re here with me now, I guess you’ll just have to tell me how much you love me in person instead.”

She beamed up at him, adoringly. “I love you so damn much.”

He grinned and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her slow. “Love you too, Soph. My favorite girl.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them strolled out hand-in-hand to the hostel cafeteria and picked through some pastries for breakfast, Sophie promising him a protein bar from her backpack when he complained he’d be lightheaded by eleven. He snapped a photo of her when she recoiled at the strong cappuccino with zero cream or sugar to cut it with, laughing as she tried her best to hide a cough. They found a spot at an empty table and it wasn’t long until a friendly couple came up to them with twin smiles.

“Hi, can we sit?” The girl asked, already setting down their plates.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Rafe replied, gesturing. Sophie noticed that his slight Carolinian accent came out a little more in Europe instead of in Ohio, as if he was trying to mimic a little bit of the Spanish and Italian accents and butchered it in his own special way. (She hadn’t corrected him yet, finding it endearing.)

“Thank you! I’m Elena, this is Marco.” Elena introduced herself, sliding into her seat.

Marco gave them a nod and pointed at Rafe, hesitant. “It’s...Jake?”

“Rafe.” He corrected, then explained to Sophie, “we met in the bathroom.”

“Your boyfriend is built.” Marco informed Sophie with a grin, making her laugh. “I know. I’m Sophie, it’s nice to meet you both. Are you just visiting, or…?”

“Yes, we’re from Milan, we wanted to make a weekend trip.” Elena confirmed. “And you? Americans?”

“North Carolina, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “Sophie was studying abroad in Barcelona, then I came to tag along.”

“Oh, so cool!” Elena grinned. “Do you have plans today? I love Florence, it’s beautiful.”

“It is, yeah.” Sophie glanced down at her phone, then back up at them. “I’m sorry, but we have to run, actually, we have a tour to go to this morning. But no plans later.”

“We will meet you by the Duomo, then, around lunch! We can show you around.” Marco declared, handing over his phone to Rafe to put in his phone number - he was a little confused, but did so anyways. “You guys don’t have to -”

“No, new friends are always fun.” Elena waved him off with a smile. “Enjoy your morning.”

Sophie brightened, slipping out of her chair. “See you later!”

Rafe followed her back to their room, and turned to face her after shutting the door with a skeptical look. “He was flirting with me.”

She laughed, packing up her backpack for the day (she’d bought the little leather bag in Barcelona and it was now one of her most treasured possessions, carrying her camera and sketchbook every day). “Don’t be ridiculous, you just have a big head.”

“No, I swear, he was giving me a look this morning when I walked back from the bathroom.” He insisted.

“I think you’re misinterpreting things, he was probably confused that you were shirtless. They were friendly, we should meet up with them! New friends!” She grinned and slapped a protein bar into his hand, as promised.

He furrowed his brow a little but slipped the bar into his pocket. “How long do I have to share you for?”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He amended quickly, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss. “Ready to see your Domo and whatever?”

“Duomo, baby. And the Palazzo Vecchio.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Uh huh.” She held out her hand with a grin. “C’mon, Florence awaits.”

He took her hand and raised it, guiding her into a twirl. “We certainly can’t keep her waiting, then.”

______

Rafe wasn’t sure he absorbed a single word of the self-guided tour. Twenty boring minutes in, he’d turned down the volume on his audio pack that they’d rented and just observed Sophie and the small look of awe on her face at every new turn, the way she nodded enthusiastically when she recognized a piece of information shared on the audio. He decided he would be perfectly content with just watching her for the rest of his life, to see the way her face lit up when she learned new things and got to share that information with him.

He listened just enough to be able to hold a conversation with her afterward, but his intro to architecture class that he’d had to drop midway through the first month of the semester didn’t really give him a strong enough background to keep up. Sophie made him pause the audio several times too, so she could tell him a story about the architect or about the construction of the buildings - he did his best to look as interested as possible. She could tell he was losing interest, just a little, but carried on anyways, just excited to share her passions with him.

After finishing the tour and returning their audio devices a little early, they took a seat out on the steps of the piazza as they waited for their new friends. Sophie took out her sketchbook and started drawing the front entryway of the Duomo, and after two minutes she ripped out a sheet so Rafe could doodle too. (His sketches were much less refined, a little rough around the edges, but they made up for it in character.)

“Do you think they’ll show?”

“Marco and Elena? Yeah. They sounded genuine.” She replied, her tongue poking out a little in concentration as she sketched.

He suppressed a grin and snapped a quick photo of her before she could realize. “How long do we have to hang out with them?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe go to lunch, let them show us around and if we like them we can hang out more?”

“Hm. You think we’ll like them?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” She reached over and adjusted his hand, trying to help him draw a straighter line, but he just scowled and went back to his usual method.

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“That’s the whole point of staying in the hostel, baby, to meet people.” She nudged her foot against his, giving him an eager smile. “C’mon, you like making friends. You’re good at it.”

“Okay, fine, but I have something planned for us tomorrow afternoon.” He told her, raising his eyebrows.

She huffed, exasperated. “Rafe, I promise, we can have sex later, but I’m not wasting the day in bed -”

He laughed, flicking at her knee. “No, no, not that, but I like where your mind is at.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head a little. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not an expensive one, I hope?”

He made a show of pulling out his phone, dramatic. “Siri, cancel the private shopping tour at Gucci please.“

“Rafe Cameron.” She fixed him with a glare, unamused. He grinned back and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I know you better than that, don’t worry.”

“You’d better.” She rolled her eyes, then brightened when she saw Marco and Elena approaching and gathered up her sketchbook and pencils back into her bag, along with Rafe’s little drawings. He followed her gaze and stood, visibly steeling himself a little - she instantly nudged him to relax.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to warm up to their newfound friends, especially when Marco showed interest in his camera and when Elena asked him about his film minor, and enthused about how jealous she was that she couldn’t study something fun like that. He was a little caught off guard when they each got kisses on cheeks as a greeting, but didn’t mention it when Sophie shot him a look.

As promised, the two gave Rafe and Sophie a mini tour of the city, stopping for gelato twice along the way. After a solid few hours of walking and chatting, they stopped at a fountain by their hostel and sat around it to take a break.

“This fountain is special to us, you know.” Elena smiled at Marco and he nodded, tugging her down to his lap.

Rafe cocked his head. “Why’s that?”

“It is where we kissed for the first time.” Marco revealed with a raise of his eyebrows. “There’s a legend, if you throw a coin in here over your shoulder and it makes it to the top tier, you will find your lover.”

“Or lovers.” Elena added with a grin and dug in her pocket, then tossed two coins to Rafe and Sophie. “Here. I’ll tell you where it lands.”

Rafe tried handing his back, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to waste your coin. I already have Sophie.”

Elena pushed it back into his hand, insistent. “You never know what will happen. It’s just good luck.”

Sophie looked a little confused but accepted the coin, tossing it in. Marco let out a whoop as it landed in the top tier, making a satisfying clink. “There you go!”

Rafe scowled but flicked his in too, looking a little smug when it joined hers up top. “See, I told you. Your lover’s right here.” He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and mumbled, “Stupid fountain.”

Elena laughed, gesturing out to the crowd milling around. “Your lovers could be anywhere. Love is meant to be shared with more, yes?”

“...Sure.” Sophie leaned back into Rafe, content. “How long are you two here for?”

“We have as long as we’d like.” Marco shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Rafe chuckled quietly into Sophie’s hair, murmuring. “Sounds like your worst nightmare.”

She just hummed in agreement back to him. “Oh. We leave in two days, early in the morning. Do you have plans tonight?”

“Probably a club.” Elena grinned. “You should come! We will teach you the tricks, get you the good Italian drinks. Sophie, I can show you how to flirt for the free drinks, the Italian way.”

She held back a laugh as she felt Rafe’s grip tighten a little around her. “Going out sounds fun. I’m not sure I have the right clothes, though, I sent a lot home already…”

“I have clothes! We will share.” Elena dismissed her immediately, then got up off Marco’s lap, tugging him up. “We are meeting with friends for dinner, but we will meet you later? At the hostel?”

“Sounds good.” Rafe nodded, letting Sophie go, and was surprised when the two of them said goodbye - again - with cheek kisses, Marco included. Once they were out of earshot, Sophie giggled at the bemused expression he wore. “I think you should start greeting James and Colin that way.”

He scowled. “James would participate. Colin might deck me.”

“Yeah, probably. I miss them.”

“More than you missed me?” He raised his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, shoving at his chest. “Of course not. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird, you get all overprotective and I know you wanted to say something earlier when she talked about flirting.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, giving it a little squeeze.

He softened a little and leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of her head, ignoring her remark. “What do you think she’ll have you wearing?”

“No clue. We’ll see, I guess.” She shrugged. “We have a few hours to kill, what do you want to do?”

“Hmm. We can go see the David?” Rafe tipped his head in that direction, and Sophie visibly brightened. “You want to go to an art museum?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s cool. One of my buddies went last year and said it was worth checking out. Plus, air conditioning.”

“My two favorite words.” She grinned.

____

Later that night, Sophie walked out of the girls’ dorm with Elena to meet the boys, looking extra hesitant. She wore a black bikini top, maneuvered differently so it was upside down and strung up to push her boobs together, with an open back. One tug of a string and it’d all come undone. It was paired with a leather miniskirt and Elena insisted on doing winged eyeliner and soft pink lipstick too, all completely out of Sophie’s comfort zone.

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell open a little. “Soph.”

“She’s gorgeous, yes?” Elena grinned, giving Sophie a little push on the shoulder toward him.

“Yeah, definitely, stunning.” Rafe nodded, searching her face. Sophie gave him a small smile, clearly uncomfortable in the attire. “It doesn’t look bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Do you like it…?” He questioned. “I can go get an extra shirt of mine from our room, if you want a little more, uh, coverage - not that you need to cover up, but -” He started, stepping toward that way even without her encouragement.

“No, um, I think it’s okay.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Just a little...different. I just need a drink. Or two.”

He paused. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded, then gave him a wry grin. “Just make sure no one accidentally tugs at this string or I think it’s all coming apart.”

He clapped his hand against the string at the back of her neck protectively. “You got it.”

“Ready? You look nice, Sophie.” Marco asked, sending her a polite smile, then stopped in front of Rafe. “No, wait.”

“Something wrong?” Rafe frowned, then widened his eyes as Marco reached out and undid two more buttons on Rafe’s shirt that already had three unbuttoned, so his chest was basically on full display. His attire was completely out of character for him, a short-sleeved maroon silk button-down that Marco had insisted on, but he wore it well. Sophie stifled a laugh.

“There! Much better. Now we go.” Marco took Elena’s hand and they led the way, starting the walk toward the club.

Sophie giggled at Rafe’s bemused expression and reached over and undid another button with her free hand. “You look extra slutty tonight.”

“Extra slutty?” He emphasized in mock outrage. “Maybe I’ll be the one getting us free drinks.”

She grinned. “How about we make it a competition?”

“Go on…”

“Whoever can get to...um, two drinks first wins.” She decided.

“Just two? Why not go the whole night?” He cocked his head.

“I don’t think I’m going to drink too much tonight.” She reached up and tugged at the bikini string to tighten it a little, pushing her boobs together more. “I feel like my tits are gonna fall out at any second.”

He snorted. “Say the word and I’ll give you my shirt.”

“I know you would, baby, but I think you need some semblance of decency too.”

They were practically glued to each other’s side all night despite their bet, with her being stressed about her outfit and him being overprotective. (Sophie noted that Rafe looked remarkably comfortable in the overpriced and fancy club environment, while she felt wildly out of place. For a moment she wished she’d taken him to Monaco just to see how quickly he’d assimilate, even though she knew she’d probably hate it.)

They took two shots with Elena and Marco and lost both of them shortly after, not expecting them to leave so soon. After they said hasty goodbyes, not returning, Rafe slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and kept her close. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Elena making out with some girl on the dance floor.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, leaning into him. “You’re sure? Isn’t she dating Marco?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s their thing. I swear it was her.” He grinned, repeating Elena’s words from earlier. “Your lovers could be anywhere, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s a little out there. When we were getting dressed she dragged a crystal down my spine and told me I had to align my chakras.”

“Kinky.” He quipped, laughing when she shoved at his shoulder. “Whatcha thinking, want to stay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me. Let’s just head back?”

He took the rest of her drink and tipped it back, then set it on a nearby counter as they walked out. “Exactly how tired are you?”

She grinned. “I could stay up for a little longer. I saw your packing skills, might as well put them to good use.”

Rafe blushed - she’d found a whole strip of condoms in his bag on the first night in Barcelona and immediately teased him, asking how many nights he thought they’d be doing it. He merely responded by shrugging and ripping one open, setting it on the bed like an invitation. (She had accepted. Of course she did.) “We might as well take advantage of your top. Easy access, y’know.”

She rolled her eyes and checked her hip against his, shaking her head. “You have me, you know. You don’t have to keep constantly flirting.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Touché.”

_________

Rafe’s planned surprise for the next day was a bike tour (“so you can live out your Lizzie McGuire dream,” he’d told her, but she didn’t have the heart to correct him that technically Lizzie rode a Vespa in Rome).

The bike tour was out to a small winery where they had a private dinner and both got drunker than they expected, especially Sophie. The owners of the winery made them a three-course meal and kept coming out with more and more wines to try, successfully convincing Rafe to order three bottles to be shipped home. When Sophie nearly fell only a few feet after attempting to ride the bike back, the owners laughed and just ordered them a cab - Rafe thanked them with a tip that was probably a little too excessive, but his drunk brain didn’t care.

When they tumbled into the car, Rafe immediately pulled her feet into his lap, running his hand over her shin. She gave him a look and tried twitching away but he wouldn’t let her, keeping a firm grasp on her ankle. In Spanish, a little slurred but near-perfect, Sophie told the driver their address and the name of the hostel. Their driver nodded and responded something in Italian - neither of them could understand, so they just nodded back.

Rafe dug his thumbs into her calf and she nearly moaned, biting her lip. “Oh my god.”

“That good or you’re just drunk?” He smirked, continuing his motions.

She let her head flop back against the car door. “Both. You’re drunk too. My brain is working funny though.”

He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t think it is. What’s 15 plus 26?”

“Rafe, you know I can’t do mental math, unfair.” She whined, pulling her leg back a little so his hand slipped back to her ankle.

He swapped her legs, massaging into her other calf. “Not gonna take your shoes off in the car, sweetheart, you’ll have to wait for more.”

“Sweetheart. That’s new,” she repeated, mulling it over. “You know what?”

“What?”

“If you gave me a foot massage right now, I genuinely think I’d marry you on the spot. No contest.”

“No contest implies there is competition, Soph.” He pushed both her legs off his lap, ignoring her squawk of protest, and slid into the middle seat so he could buckle her in and lean into her.

She tucked her head into his side comfortably. “You’d marry me too. Wouldn’t you?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. No.”

She whined, squeezing his thigh. “Rafe!”

“Sophie!” He mimicked her whine, although much quieter, and pushed her hand away from his leg. “No, I wouldn’t, you deserve a big party and a pretty white dress. Plus, wouldn’t you want our friends there?”

“I suppose.” She hummed, pulling his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. “Sometime, then.”

“Yeah, sometime.” He agreed, starting to play with her hair. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep on his side, always extra sleepy when she was wine drunk. He snapped a picture and sent it to Allie and Julia, who instantly demanded a Facetime session.

A few minutes later, the cab dropped them at the hostel and Rafe had to practically drag her sleepy body out of the car and haul her inside. He convinced her to stay awake just long enough to get into their room, then let her flop onto the bed as he untied her shoes.

She perked up a little when she heard the familiar ring of the Facetime call. “Who’s that?” He scooted in close to her, pressing his cheek to hers to fit them both on the screen with minimal effort. Allie and Julia picked up right away and both their faces broke out into a grin.

“Mom and Dad!” Julia exclaimed.

Sophie grinned back, immediately taking the phone from Rafe and shoving him away. “Hi!”

“She’s drunk.” Rafe informed them unnecessarily off screen.

��I am not, shh.” She snapped at him. “Hi guys! I miss you!”

“How’s your trip? I want to hear all about it!” Allie asked right away.

Sophie glanced at Rafe, the wheels turning in her head. “Should we tell them? Are we allowed?”

He furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t we be allowed?”

“Okay. So we had sex last night -”

“Jesus, Sophie, no -” He immediately wrestled the phone away from her as Allie and Julia both cried out with a chorus of “no, stop!”

“You said it was allowed!”

“I didn’t think you were going to talk about that!” Rafe rolled his eyes and gave them an apologetic smile. “We’ll be home in a little under a week, Soph can catch you up then. On the less explicit details.”

“You taking care of our girl, Cameron?” Julia asked, smiling as Sophie nuzzled into his side like a cat - she was always extra touchy when drunk, even just with the girls.

“Technically, she was mine first.” He pointed out.

“Technically, you made her cry after multiple fights before you ever dated, so no. She’s been ours since freshman year.” Allie corrected.

“I can be everybody’s.” Sophie mumbled, taking Rafe’s hand and placing it on her head so he’d get the hint and start playing with her hair again.

“Polygamy. Spicy.” Julia quipped.

“I would like to have sex or go to sleep now.” Sophie announced without a care in the world. “Can we hang up?”

Julia snorted, while Allie rolled her eyes.

“You’re not gonna talk to your friends?” He asked, trying to hand the phone back to her, but she just shook her head and pushed it away. “M’tired.”

“You just said you wanted to have sex.” Julia said.

“Yes, I’m not gonna do any of the work.”

Rafe shook his head and angled the phone back to his face. “Okay then. Sorry, guys, we had way too much wine at dinner. We’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, of course. See you soon! Bye, Soph!” They both chimed in, waving until they hung up. He dropped the phone, amused. “What was that about?”

“Honesty is the best policy.” She told him, sprawling out onto the bed. “Alright. Have at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. You need to shower, then we can go to sleep.”

She sighed dramatically. “Rafael.”

“That is not my name.”

“Okay. Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Can we please have sex?”

“No we cannot.”

She pouted, rolling over onto her stomach and looking up at him. “Please? I’ll let you go down on me.”

He laughed. “You’re so generous. No. Come on, shower time.” He gathered up her towel and clothes for her to change into after, then tugged at her hand. “Angel. Up.”

“Shower with me.” She demanded, getting up and following him out the room with only a few stumbles along the way.

“You want us to get kicked out? I don’t think so.” He ushered her into the small shower stall, slipping in behind her and locking the door, then helped her undress, dodging multiple kisses. He folded her clothes and set them aside then gave her a small push into the shower that he’d turned on for her. “Okay. I’m going to wait outside.”

“No, no, stay.” She yelped as the water hit her, ice cold, and fiddled with the handles. “Fucking - oh my god -”

Rafe quickly jumped forward and adjusted them to the right temp, then turned his back on her. “Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I’m worried you’ll drown.”

“Can’t drown in a shower, silly.” She reached out and shoved her soapy hand through his hair and he sighed, turning back to look her in the eye. “Sophie Flint. Please behave.”

“You behave.” She gave him a mischievous grin, then lowered her voice to a whisper despite there being no one else milling around in the bathroom. “Come in.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Not completely. Not anymore.” She argued. “I’ll go down on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “If you really want to, you can save that for the morning. Finish your shower so I can get in. I’ve decided I don’t trust you to stay alone in the room.”

“Or you could get in with me…” she trailed off, tugging him down for a kiss - he gave in just for a moment before glancing away, trying his hardest to ignore his naked girlfriend - wet and covered in soap suds, no less.

“Soph. Rinse your hair.”

She crossed her arms, stubborn. “No.”

“Oh my god.” He rolled his eyes and double-checked the lock before he stripped down and got in with her, nudging her back under the feeble shower spray. He figured he’d have to shower anyways, and the faster he got her back to bed, the better. “Rinse.”

“Do it for me.” She protested, resting her head against his chest. He sighed but tipped her head back into the water and massaged his hands through her strands, stilling for a brief moment when she let out a breathy moan. “Hey. Can’t do that.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” She excused, then reached up onto her toes to lather shampoo into his hair once he was finished. He ducked down a little so she could reach, pressing his head against her hand. “M’ gonna be hard if you keep that up,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “It’s just shampooing. And I think you’re halfway there.”

“It’s intimate.” He protested, nearly melting into her touch. He loved when she played with his hair, how gentle she was (except when she’d occasionally tug on some strands to get his attention).

After shampooing and rinsing his hair, she lathered soap between her hands and smoothed it over his chest, over his shoulders. He swallowed, watching her and feeling like his skin was on fire despite the warm water waning. “You’re still drunk.” He mumbled.

“Not really.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, then another, then along his collarbone. “I know what I’m doing.” His illogical side was beginning to give way to her actions, especially as she sunk to her knees in the shower, running her hands down his thighs. “Let me.”

“Baby…” He was hesitant and clearly worried about being caught, and reached down to tip up her chin. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Although this is twice now that I’m getting cheated out of shower sex, kind of rude.” She grinned up at him.

“Sophie, I will fuck you in the shower all you want when we’re home - oh, shit -” He nearly gasped as she took him into her mouth, jerking his hips involuntarily. She gagged and immediately pulled off him, pinching his thigh. “Jesus, Rafe, trying to bruise my throat or something?”

“I had no warning! I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in a hushed whisper, fumbling for the shower faucet to turn it just a tad hotter as it rained down on his back. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“I mean, we can try it, but another time, okay?” She smirked as his eyes went wide and she licked up the underside of his cock, carefully taking him into her mouth again. He let out a deep exhale and bit down on his knuckle to keep himself quiet, letting his head fall back against the shower wall. She continued bobbing up and down on him and when he looked down after a few moments, he nearly choked watching her touch herself at the same time.

“Sophie - let me -” He tried, but she just hollowed out her cheeks and moved on him a little faster, and he could tell from the way she hummed around him that she was close too - impossibly close. He pushed her gently off of him and hauled her up to stand, even though she protested, and traded places faster than she could think, hooking her knee over his shoulder and going straight in with his tongue.

She gasped, a little louder than intended, and he sent her a warning look. They could hear some giggles from down the hall, coming closer and closer, and she panicked, tugging at his hair to bring him up, but he refused to stand. “Be quiet.”

“Rafe you know I can’t -” She pleaded, then pressed her hand tight to her mouth when the door opened and he continued to eat her out with no sign of stopping. Realistically, there was no chance of getting caught unless they were heard - they were in one of four locked shower stalls and even Rafe couldn’t be seen over the top, despite his height. Another gasp caught in her throat as he flicked his tongue across her clit, faster, and she felt like she might black out when she came.

He looked up at her and she could barely see the blue rimming his pupils, eyes dark with lust. That was enough to push her over the edge and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a not-so-quiet whine.

The girls’ conversation stopped out by the sinks and one of them spoke up, loudly. “Did you hear that?”

Rafe stood after working her through the orgasm - as always - and clamped his hand over her mouth, reaching down in between them to jack himself off as he whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a sound. You’re so good for me, Soph, so fucking special.”

She felt like her legs were jelly and her head was spinning, in a haze post-orgasm (and the excessive steam in the shower didn’t help). She pushed his hand away and kissed him, hard, grinning against his lips when he uttered a soft groan, painting her stomach with his cum.

He rested his forehead against hers, trying his best to breathe quietly, a different girl spoke up. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Probably just the shower faucet being weird.” There was a murmur of agreement and the group left, the door swinging shut to make a loud exit.

Sophie let out a small laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “You’re…I can’t even think.”

“Incredibly sexy?” He supplied with a grin, nudging her back under the shower spray and handing her the body wash to clean herself off.

“Incredibly insane, more like it.” She shivered once she was clean and flicked off the faucet. “You went from no sex tonight to near-exhibitionism all within the span of a half hour.”

He glanced at his watch before wrapping her in her towel. “Forty-five minutes since we’ve been home, actually, it’s a miracle the water wasn’t ice.”

She patted herself dry and pulled on her clean clothes, scowling as she had to shove her feet into her mildly sweaty shoes. “Um. You need fresh clothes.”

“Right.” Rafe paused, then stacked his clothes on top of hers and wrapped her towel around his waist. “This’ll do. You leave first?”

“Good call.” She grinned and slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed, back to their room, and was under the covers when he returned. “C’mere.”

He tugged on clean boxers and called it good, slipping under the covers with her and drawing her close. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah.” She grinned to herself and pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw. “Baby.”

“Hm?” He closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep at any second.

“You’re so easy.”

“Easy?” He echoed. “Maybe. Just for you.”

“Aw. Slutty just for me.” She grinned and rested her head on his chest, sighing contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her. “Good night.”

“Night, love you.” He mumbled.

“Love you too.”

_____

After another long day of exploring (and five gelatos, between the two of them), Sophie and Rafe agreed to meet up with Marco and Elena to go out again before they left. Rafe insisted on buying Sophie a better outfit for going out, despite her protests, and they ended up buying three outfits instead of just one. The night started out tame, with Marco and Elena actually sticking by Sophie and Rafe - until Marco kept buying more and more shots of limoncello and sambuca.

The sambuca shots came to their table on fire, and Rafe was a little too enamored by the flame by the third round he’d consumed (Sophie passed hers off to him, a little worried about her ability to keep an eye on him otherwise). When she noticed Rafe’s terrible typing on a Snapchat to Colin and James, she leaned up to yell in his ear. “Hey! I’m going to go get water. No more shots.”

“I’ll come!” He got up from his chair and immediately stumbled, gripping the table. Marco caught him by the arm, laughing. “I can watch him. It’s okay.”

She nodded and pressed both hands to his shoulders to keep Rafe in place. “Okay. You stay here with Marco, I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Promise?” He frowned, reaching out for her.

“I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Stay.”

After fighting her way up to the bar, and poorly communicating that she wanted acqua, water, not acqua di cedro, an Italian liqueur, Sophie finally made it back to the table after ten minutes - just in time to catch Marco leaning in and kissing Rafe.

Rafe had leaned in a little too, misreading and thinking Marco was just trying to tell him something in his ear over the loud crowd. He jerked away with wide eyes just so Marco caught the corner of his lips, then abruptly looked around in shock to see if anyone else caught it.

Marco cocked his head, confused. “You are not interested?”

Sophie came up and handed Rafe the water, tucking herself into his side protectively. “What’s going on?” He gaped at her for a second then back at Marco, trying to gather his thoughts. “Interested?”

“In me.” Marco nodded. “We have been flirting.”

“We’ve been what?” He repeated, in shock.

“I’m his girlfriend.” Sophie clarified, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought we told you -”

“Yes, and I have my girlfriend too!” Marco nodded, tapping Elena on the shoulder and bringing her close. “What is the issue?”

“Oh, did you ask?” Elena brightened, sending Sophie a flirtatious grin. “Did they say yes?”

“I’m too drunk for this.” Rafe mumbled, pressing his palm to his forehead.

“Wait, wait, so. You two want to hook up with Rafe -” Sophie started, only for Marco to shake his head. “No, no, both of you. You for Elena.”

“I thought you could tell? We were flirting all week!” Elena exclaimed, and both Sophie and Rafe thought back to several incidents over the past few days that they’d just chalked up to the Italians being friendly. Kisses on cheeks, Elena telling Sophie to toss coins in the fountain so she’d meet her lover in Florence, Marco complimenting Rafe’s body multiple times when he came back in just a towel after the showers - shit, were they really that oblivious?

Rafe just groaned and dropped his head down to Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m so drunk.” She laughed, more out of confusion than anything. “Um, I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not really inter - well -” She paused, debating for a moment and glancing up at Rafe to make sure she wasn’t speaking for him. (In her defense, she wasn’t sober either.)

“No!” Rafe exclaimed.

She nodded quickly. “Right, right, yeah. We’re not really interested, I’m so sorry if we gave you the wrong idea.”

“Oh. I would not have kissed you, I am sorry -” Marco began to apologize, but Sophie shook her head. “It’s okay! It’s okay, he’s fine. Um, here, you can have these, I think I need to get Rafe back home.” She pushed their waters into Elena’s hands, giving them an awkward smile.

“Will we see you at breakfast?” Elena asked as she smiled back, completely unfazed.

“Um...yeah. Maybe. Rafe, c’mon, let’s go.” Sophie looped her arm around his waist and tried pulling him out of the club, and he just dragged his feet along. “I can’t believe he kissed me.”

“Shh,” she giggled as she hushed him, tugging on his arm. “Rafe, cooperate, please.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” He grumbled, standing slightly more upright and doing his best to walk with her once they finally made it out. She got out her phone to look up the directions back to their metro stop and he wiped his hand over his mouth, scowling. “I need a kiss.”

“You nearly got one from Marco.” Sophie quipped with a smirk.

“I didn’t want a kiss from Marco.” He lamented with a big sigh. “Need one from my girl.”

“Just one, then we gotta make it home.” She complied, rising up on her toes to give him a short kiss. He grabbed her chin, not so gently, and tilted it back up to give her another kiss. “No. More.”

“I’ll kiss you as much as you want when we get back. Will you please help me and walk to the metro? One block, then just two when we go to the hostel. You can do it.” She pulled out of his grip and looped her arm in his, trying to get him going. “Rafe. Please.”

“So whiny.” He mumbled, but followed along. “Sophie, baby, Soph.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“My legs feel like jello.”

She grinned. “Kissing Marco had you that weak-kneed?”

“Shut uppppp.” He whined, messing with her hair. She jerked away, swatting his hand. “Hey! Quit.”

“You quit.”

“Shut it.”

He was quiet for a solid minute and she could tell he was thinking something over, with the way his brow was furrowed and lips were pursed. “Sophie Flint.”

“Yeah?” She was grateful when they arrived at the metro, tugging him onto the empty car and scanning their tickets. She wrestled him into a seat and eventually ended up on his lap after some pushing and pulling, his forehead pressed to hers. “What, Rafe.”

“Were you gonna sleep with Elena?” He looked concerned and his hands gripped her waist a little tighter.

She laughed, pulling back to brush his hair out of his face. “No, baby, I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I didn’t even know that’s what they were trying for.”

“Oh. Good. I don’t think I’d like you sleeping with someone else.” He told her, closing his eyes a little as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Sophie held back another laugh, nodding. “Yeah? I didn’t think you would. Don’t fall asleep on me, buddy.”

“Boyfriend. Not buddy. Buddy’s just a friend. I can have other nicknames too though.” He argued, letting his head fall back against the metro walls.

“What other nicknames?” She asked, moving to get off his lap, but he just tightened his grip on her so she couldn’t.

“Hm…I’m okay with smokeshow.”

She snorted, nodding. “Alright, smokeshow. We can go with that.”

“Sophie.”

“Yes, Rafe.”

“I’m in love with you.” He declared, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She beamed and leaned in too to bump her nose against his, then press a short kiss to his lips. “You’re very sweet when you’re drunk.”

“I need you to say it back.” He frowned, tugging gently at the ends of her hair.

“I’m in love with you too.” She grinned. “Adore you, even.”

He hummed, looking her over with concentration and a small smile. “I like the sound of that. Do we have to go to breakfast tomorrow? I don’t really wanna see them again.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Our train to Rome is at seven, I was kind of hoping they’d be too hungover to remember us.”

“Hostel breakfast doesn’t open til 8.” He frowned. “Am I gonna starve?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and nudged her nose against his. “No. I’ll make sure you get food.”

“You’re so good at taking care of me.” He smiled sleepily, pulling her closer and dropping his head to her shoulder.

She beamed, combing her hand through his hair. “I try my best, baby. Always will.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[etraytin]

Quarantine Journal

December 30, 2021

I was going to write last night, but I was so mentally fried by the end of the day that I spent the evening watching old Loading Ready Run videos and playing Gardenscapes and it was basically the most I could possibly do. These things happen, I suppose. Anyway, it’s Day 3 now of our weird internal/external quarantine, and like most of the past two years it could be worse but is still shitty. 

I’ve been sleeping on the living room sofa for the past two nights, one of those loveseats where both seats recline but you can’t lay across it sort of dealies. It is not terrible. Kiddo’s room is on the other side of the house from our room and I have wanted to be able to hear him in the night, plus I’m really trying to keep Husband clear so he might be able to get to MIL in Asheville sometime soon. She is not doing great, she has pneumonia and has fired her housekeeper/life assistant, and we simultaneously need to be there helping her and need to be absolutely sure we are not exposing her to COVID. Husband’s university has moved classes virtual for the first two weeks of term, so he is hoping that if he can last through the quarantine and not test positive, he can go to his mom’s place for a week and just wear a mask to be on the safe side. That only works if he avoids the germs himself, though. 

Yesterday we all got our official tests, rather than just relying on Tuesday’s home tests to tell us if we were positive. This town in Illinois only has about 20k people and testing options are kind of limited, especially if you don’t have a primary care doctor here. The CVS and Walgreens don’t test, and you have to reserve a time at the Urgent Care and that is not easy. We booked an urgent care slot for the kiddo so he could get looked at as well, but the rest of us all went to the DMV. Yes, that seems weird, but welcome to small towns, I guess. Half the DMV building is now a COVID test center where you park, walk up to a window, and they hand you a baggie with a COVID test, instructions, and a small amount of paperwork to fill out. You fill it out, you swab the shit out of your nose, and you turn the whole business back in and sit in your car for fifteen minutes to get the results. Husband, Dad and I all came back negative, but my mom was positive, despite feeling fine. 

Took the kiddo to urgent care where, despite a time we reserved almost 24 hours in advance and that was a pain in the ass to get, they told us they were two hours behind and we would have to stay in the parking lot or they would skip us when our turn came up. Apparently they had “like 15 walk-ins an hour ago.”  I swear to god I have all the respect in the world for anyone working in health care right now, but if you’re going to be a walk-in clinic, be a walk in clinic. Don’t tell people they can reserve a time and then just lolnope them. If I had known, I’d have had kiddo there when they opened instead of sitting there in the near-dark at 5pm. We had a time reserved for 4:40 and at 5pm there were seven people ahead of us.  Anyway, I was polite as I could be when I was so so so mad and had a miserable sick child in the car, and we went to the DMV with him instead. Positive. 

The upshot of the whole thing is that now we have two quarantine rooms and a quarantine bathroom in the house. My mom is staying in the office and the kiddo is still in the laundry room. I put the kiddo in the office with her for a few hours so I could air and clean the laundry room (it has an outside door) and do the laundry. With my mom out of commission, I’m now on laundry and meals and kitchen duty along with primary care of the sick duty. It is... not great. Husband is limited in what he can do but has stepped up big time to do all dishes and trash hauling which is exceedingly helpful and keeps him out of the direct line of germs. My dad spent several hours cleaning up the exceedingly disorganized and kind of icky master bathroom so we can take a shower in there if we want to. (The bathroom with the good shower/bath is the quarantine bathroom now, cry!) Other than that, we’re all just... waiting. 

Good news is, kiddo is feeling much better now. He felt miserable for the first day, partially miserable for the second day (mostly when he had to be out of bed and traveling around to find a test with me) and this morning he is perky and eating and pleased to be watching videos all day. It looks like while the vaccine didn’t completely shield him, it is going to let him shake the virus quickly. My mom, fully vaxxed and boosted, is still asymptomatic but for a tickle in the throat and a little fatigue. It could be a lot worse. I find it hard not to be aggrieved that after all this we ended up with COVID anyway, but I’m trying to remind myself that this was always the endgame. Even back in 2020, the projection was that eventually COVID-19 would settle in as another one of the coronaviruses, something you got sometimes in the winter and spent a couple days in bed and got better from. That’s what’s happening here. It’s what we wanted, sort of. Still kinda sucks, tbh. 

[jenoptimist]

you may have only gotten half a pudding cup but you got yourself a real life Disney Prince, so who’s the real winner?

✮ Pairing: kunhang x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff

✮ Word count: 5.8k

♡ Yakult says: hendery!!!!in!!glasses!!!!!!! pls i love him sm 🥲

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There was a phone number in you calculus textbook that you were one hundred percent sure you never wrote down. Not that you could, anyway, considering that it was a library book. Well, no, techincally you could write it in but you wouldn’t dare. The longer you stared at the handful of digits, the more you freaked out. You absolutely could not afford to be fined! The whole reason why you borrowed it from your college library was so that you didn’t have to spend money in the first place!

After gathering your materials and stuffing them into your bag, you hurriedly left your local library. You fished your phone out of your pocket, scrolled through your – admittedly pathetically short – list of contacts and called the person who you suspected wad the source of your small dilemma.

“‘Sup?” Yangyang greeted.

“Be honest with me,” you said seriously, immediately cutting to the chase, “were you the one who wrote the number?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “what number?”

“You know,” you urged as you neared the apartment complex that the two of you lived in. “The one in my calculus textbook? I borrowed it from the college library and I don’t want to get into shit if they find it.”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Oh really?” You asked in disbelief as you hopped into the elevator and punched the number to your floor. After what you dubbed as, ‘The Spaghetti Incident of 2018’ you could never be too sure with him. When he replied that he didn’t, you asked him another two times. Throughout your friendship with Yangyang, you found that the trick to getting him to admit the truth was to keep badgering him until he either: got fed up or thought that whatever he did was no longer funny.

“I swear on my Hot Wheels!”

You hummed in consideration. His Hot Wheels collection was his utmost pride and joy - second only to his large sneaker collection - especially since he owned a handful of exclusive and rare ones. They were all displayed neatly on several shelves on one of the walls in his bedroom. They were even color coordinated and everything! Sometimes, when you went to offer him some food, you found him staring at them with a wide smile, his eyes full of admiration.

“Oh,” you frowned as you grabbed your keys from your jacket pocket but before you could slot your key into the lock, the door opened. Yangyang, the dork, greeted you over the phone even though he stood in front of you, a boyish grin displayed on his face. You rolled your eyes, not able to smother your smile as you hung up and stepped inside, locking the door behind you. It was noticeably warmer than usual and the apartment smelled if something toasty, which only meant one thing. “Pizza?” You guessed confidently.

Just as he gave you an affirmative, the oven began beeping to signal that it was finished. As Yangyang brought everything to the coffee table in front of your couch, you slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag and shrugged your coat off. While he cut the pizzas into almost even slices, you grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge.

Although it was still piping hot, you couldn’t help but take big bites. Your slice of doughy goodness was diminished within seconds. Solving calculus problems did thay to you. It was your least favorite module of the semester and brought on a headache whenever you left your lectures.

“This is so good.” You remarked as you took another slice. You loved a good margherita from Dominos but there was nothing like a frozen pizza from your local supermarket—the additives was probably what made it delicious, the cheap price just happened to be a bonus. Yangyang definitely felt the same, seeing as how the two of you devoured both pizzas within minuts, silence taking over the room.

You took a sip of your soda after popping open the top. “I”–you didn’t like the mischief that danced in uour room-mate’s eyes–“dare you to call the number.”

In your haste to swallow it, the soda passed through your throat uncomfortably, as if it were a large stone. “Nuh-uh.” You said with a shake of your head. There was absolutely no way you were going to call that number! You were just going to forget that it was even there. Or maybe you would return the book and hope that the next unfortunate student who will borrow it would be the one to pay whatever fine they had for ‘defacing public property’, as the college liked to call it. You didn’t know how many people had a calculus module in their course but you sure hoped that it was a large number.

“Awh come on, y/n!” At the firm shake of your head, he folded his arms and pouted slightly. A moment of silence passed and then, “I’ll give you a twenty.”

You took another sip of your soda as you mulled it over. “How about a ten and your last mango pudding cup for a text?”

Yangyang sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s a tough bargain.” You shrugged, he hogged the other five pudding cups for himself so if he really wanted you to call this mystery person, he would have to give up the remaining one. “Okay, what if I give you fifteen and we split the pudding cup.”

“Better than nothing.” You conceeded after a second of thinking it over.

Yangyang’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he held out his hand for you to take. Once you shook it, the two of you quickly cleaned up. Not even ten minutes later, the last pudding cup and two spoons were on the table along with the textbook, opened on the page with the number on it. Yangyang leaned closer to your shoulder, his head practically resting on top of yours as he watched you type in the number and text.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hey! i found ur number on a textbook i borrowed from the library so i thought i’d say hi i guess?

“Now we wait.” Yangyang said as he returned to his seat and opened the pudding cup. He handed you your spoon and the two of you dug in, eventually fighting for the last bit.

The reply came when you and Yangyang were watching Into The Spiderverse. Neither of you paused the movie when you heard the notification sound your phone let out—you had seen it countless times; twice when it was in cinemas and every so often whenever it was on Netflix.

You were slightly nervous about the reply, which was silly considering that you didn’t even know the person, but you opened up the text anyway so that it would be over and done with.

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Hi. My friend just told me he wrote it in there before I transferred. I’d be grateful if you could rub it out or use correction tape to get rid of it. Also, please delete my number.

You pursed your mouth at the response. It wasn’t as if you were hoping to be best friends or anything but the prospect of befriending someone had definitely excited you. You had college friends but that was liferally what they were: friends who you only saw in college. None of them hung out with you outside of college and whenever you did offer, they would either say yes to humour you – which, unfortunately, was blatantly obvious – or came up with an excuse. Which sucked, for obvious reasons but you would survive. The only people you had actually managed to successfully befriend were Yangyang (because he was looking for a room-mate at the time) and his best friend, Dejun.

“Uh-oh,” came Yangyang’s voice. “What did they say?” He was quick to read the text after you turned your phone to show him the screen. “Whoever it is, they’re very, um,” he paused for a moment while he thought of a fitting description, scratching his head, “grammatically correct?” At your nod of agreement, he added, “at least he said ‘please’.”

You shrugged as you typed a quick reply. “I guess.”

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

sure thing

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Thank you.

The two of you refocused your attention to the movie, the texts completely forgotten once you received his reply. Later that night, you did as you were requested and used correction tape to hide the number—which was written in neat, tiny green ink. You were aware that covering the numbers in correction tape would also be considered as ‘defacing public property’ too, but it was for the sake of the stranger’s privacy. It seemed as though you were the fiest to contact the number but, still, if you were in their position, you wouldn’t like your number to be in public property either.

As for the text, you took a screenshot of it for Yangyang, who asked for it so that he could show Dejun while he typed away in your groupchat, and then erased the number from your phone.

*

Two weeks later, you found yourself sitting at the study desk in your room, staring helplessly at the blank answer boxes of the calculus assignment you had been told to complete and submit before the end of next week. You wanted to cry in frustration as you redirected your gaze down to your notebook where you had been trying to solve the equations. The entire page was a mess and your desk was coverd with eraser bits. It had gotten to the point where some parts of the page had gone grainy, like it always did when you repeatedly erased something on the same area. There wasn’t a single problem that you managed solve—no matter how hard you tried. It was pathetic, really.

With a sigh, you decided to take the break that you had put off, not wanting to take one until you solved a problem (ha!) as a reward. Maybe you would rewatch the entire Twilight saga again (Dejun had managed to convince you to read the series a couple of months back and the movies had become something like a guilty pleasure of yours,) because it was clear that you were going absolutely nowhere.

Just as you had started Eclipse, you heard the door open but didn’t bother moving from your spot. In fact, you hadn’t moved since you started your movie marathon a few hours ago because you were all too comfortable buried inside your fluffy blanket on the couch.

“Perfect timing!” Dejun’s rich voice bellowed, “it just started.” There was the sound of socked feet running towards the couch and then he lifted your legs, sat down and laid them down on top of his lap.

“Hey Dejun.” You greeted, raising your hand for a high five.

When he slapped his palm against yours, he asked, “how’re you doing?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Yangyang spoke up. “Judging from the Twilight marathon that’s going on,” there was a hissing sound of a can opening and the audible sound of him taking a quick sip of whatever canned beverage he was holding, “not very good.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed but your your friend only shrugged, smiling amusedly. “He’s right though,” you grumbled, “I’m really struggling with calculus at the moment.” Struggling was an understatement. You really wanted to pass it because you definitely didn’t want to repeat the exam. That would be a nightmare.

Dejun looked at you sympathetically before he made an affronted noise in his throat, one that you felt deeply in your soul as he turned to face Yangyang. “The Twilight saga is a cinematic masterpiece and you absolutely cannot change my mind.”

“Okay,” the blond replied, clearly up for the challenge. “But it’s not better than Shrek now, is it?”

“Shrek?” Dejun repeated incredulously. “Shrek is an iconic classic but the Twilight saga? Definitely on a different wavelength. The scene in New Moon where Bella just sits on her chair looking out the window soullessly? Perfection! It was a fantastic book to movie adaptation. And don’t even get me started on—”

“As thrilling as your debate is becoming,” you said, interrupting the point that the brunet was about to make, “I’d really love to continue the movie so I can hear young BooBoo Stewart say, ‘newest, bestest, brightest’ to help me feel a crumb of joy.” You were unable to find it in yourself to feel guilty about cutting in. They could take their debate somewhere else while you continued to wallow in your feelings of failure.

The pair read your mood easily and shrugged at one another in concession. Dejun patted your leg lightly in comfort as Yangyang jumped on the couch to sit on your other side, giving you a quick side-hug before focusing on the movie. It was silent up until Rosalie finished telling Bella her the story about her past.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dejun spoke up.

“Uh-oh.” Yangyang muttered playfully to you, his voice purposefully loud. You huffed out a laugh before lightly digging your elbow into his side, knowing that he’s had an awful share of ideas in the past.

Dejun stuck his tongue out at him but continued with what he began saying instead of retaliating. “Why don’t you text that person? The one whose number was in the textbook you borrowed? They must have done the module or something.”

You considered what he said seriously, even pausing the movie so that you could discuss it with him. “What if they didn’t though? What if it was their friend who borrowed the textbook? They did say that it was their friend who wrote it there.”

“Then you could just ask their friend for help.” Yangyang piped up. It was a statement that you couldn’t counter but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to.

“I don’t have their number anymore,” you said to them. “They asked me to delete it, remember?”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dejun told you as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and fished out his phone. Yangyang leaned over slightly and the two of you watched as Dejun quickly swiped his finger up his phone. “Here you go!” He said brightly, turning his phone so that you were facing the screen. And there it was: the screenshot that Yangyang asked you to take so that he could send it to Dejun. There was no way you could weasel your way out of this situation now.

“Okay,” you relented, “I’ll text them after we finish this saga.”

“If you text them after this movie, I’ll pay for take-out.” Yangyang bribed, eager for this idea to take place.

You weighed out the pros and cons briefly before agreeing with him. It would be a win-win situation: you would get take-out and a possible tutor. It seemed as if time moved quicker because the movie felt as though it finished within a few minutes. As Yangyang dialed the number for a local take-out place, you slowly typed out a text, him and Dejun watching you with hawk eyes.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hi! it’s me again. i know you don’t know me but could you please help me with calc? or your friend, whoever borrowed the textbook. please. i feel like my brain is melting

You flung your phone on the table, laid back down on the sofa and released a long sigh. It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t hoping that they would say yes. You were trying your best but it was as if your brain refused to coorperate with you when it came to calculus. If only Yangyang or Dejun were enrolled in the same course as you. It was often that you thoughr that wistfully, especially during times such as this.

It was when you were about to shove a huge lump of lo mein into your mouth that your phone lit up, indicating that you received a notification. You stuffed the noodles into your mouth and grabbed your phone off of the table, dropping your wooden chopsticks into the rest of your dish.

“What did they say?” Dejun asked as he bit into an egg roll.

“Depends,” you read out. “Would I get paid for it?” You practically exclaimed the last part. It was fair that they were wondering about payment after all, who would want to tutor for free? The thought of the amount in your bank account had you cringing, you couldn’t afford to pay for a tutor at the minute. Although, you couldn’t afford to fail your module, either. So it was a lose-lose sotuation. You sighed before shoving another chopstick full of noodles into your mouth as you thought of a reply, eyes never leaving your screen. “How can I say, ‘no I cant’t but I really need your help’ without sounding desperate?”

“You can’t.” Yangyang replied matter-of-factly, chewing on his mapo tofu.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

no but u’d have my gratitude forever???????

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Oh.

[typing. . .]

I’ll have to think about it.

[typing. . .]

Just kidding! I’ll help you out, free of charge. Would you like to do it over the phone or meet IRL?

You cheered loudly when their last text delivered. “I’m guessing they said yes?” Dejun said, smirking smugly. You nodded, grinning widely as your fingers flew on the keyboard in your phone.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

omg ur a lifesaver!!!!! maybe over the phone?? it’ll probably be more convenient foe the both of us :)

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Gotcha. We can discuss our schedule sometime tomorrow.

*

Your tutor, Wong Kunhang, was surprisingly really helpful. He was much more friendly than you thought he would be, immediately introducing himself after greeting you over the phone. For the entire three hours that the two of you were on the phone, he was nothing but the epitome of patience. Not only that, but he explained everything in a way that you could easily understand and even cracked a lame joke or two to break the tension whenever he noticed that you were becoming incredibly frustrated. By the end of the session, you felt microscopically better about calculus. While you couldn’t say that you were especially ecstatic for the upcoming lectures and assignments, it was safe to say that, while you had a long way to go, things were sort of looking up.

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

Same time next week?

to: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

definitely!!

[typing. . .]

also if ur comfortable with it can we pls video chat instead?? i think it would be much quicker than us sending each other pictures back and forth

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

That’s a good idea! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier ahahaha.

*

As you worked through the practice problems that Kunhang prepared for you, you couldn’t help but sneakily stare at your phone to catch a glimpse of him repeatedly. It sure came as a surprise when it came time for the video call and you found yourself face to face with a Disney Prince who came to life. There was no other way to sum up how handsome he was. He somewhat reminded you of Prince Eric—what with his black hair, wide, bright eyes and kind smile. It wasn’t as if you thought or expected that he would he unnattractive. In fact, you hadn’t really wondered about what he would look like at all since you had a long list of priorities. None of which included thinking about whether or not you would find your tutor attractive.

But still. Kunhang was definitely one of those people who were blessed with beauty and brains. One of the Universe’s favorites, if you will.

“You good? Are you stuck on something?” You started at Kunhang’s voice, eyes flying from your phone to your page and back to meet his expectant look. You murmured a negative and resolutely kept your gaze on your work for the next half an hour to avoid a repeat of what had just jappened.

*

After nearly two months, the tutoring session had become a bi-weekly thing. Sort of. Somewhere in between you whining about every question but toughing it out and him encouraging you while also lightly teasing you, you and Kunhang became friends. One of the two sessions somehow always ended up with the both of you chatting, completely abandoning the unsolved equations in favor of getting to know one another, or, mostly recently, switching back and forth between the show that the two of you suggested to one another.

This week you would be tuning into his suggestion, Love Death + Robots. Kunhang would talk every now and again during some parts, especially when it came to his favorites, but you found that you didn’t really mind. Not when he sounded so (adorably) excited about it. The series itself was pretty good so far albeit short – six episodes in total, and the two of you were already on the fourth one – which meant that the you that you recommended (The Office because you were astounded that he hadn’t watched at least one episode) would soon become the primary source of entertainment since the two of you were only on season three.

As you stood in the snacks aisle, internally debating one which type of popcorn you should purchase (salted or buttered? the microwaveable kind or loose kernels? also, which brand? there were so many options, maybe too many,) your phone vibrated in your pocket. Swapping your basket from your non-dominant hand to your dominant one, you pulled out your phone and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Kunhang greeted back brightly, “uh, so listen, I know we have our thing later but one of my sisters is moving out of her apartment and she asked me to help. Is it okay if we cancel?” The poor guy sounded super apologetic.

“Yeah, totally! Help her out!”–briefly, you thought about offering your assistance before deciding against it because that would be awkward and weird. Weirdly awkward. Awkwardly weird. Whatever–“I mean, it’s not like what we do is a set thing, anyway. I’ll probably ask the guys to hang out instead.” You eyed your basket full of snacks and made a mental note to grab the particular brand of potato chips that Dejun liked, already predicting that he would agree.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for hours on end. You would have assumed that the line dropped or went dead for some reason but you could definitely hear some shuffling sounds on the other side and, in a totally non-creepy way, Kunhang’s breathing.

“Right,” he finally replied, drawling the word out. There was another silence that felt extremely awkward. You wondered what facial expression he was making at the moment. It could have possibly clued you into what he as thinking. “Well that’s all I wanted to say I guess.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and then after a beat, you followed up with, “do you prefer salted or buttered popcorn? I’m trying to choose right now but I can’t decide.”

“Definitely salted. Buttered always leaves my mouth feeling weird.” You hummed while trapping you phone in between your ear and shoulder so that you could grab the generic box brand of microwaveable salted popcorn. The conversation carred on without anymore awkward pauses. You picked up a couple of items that he recommended every now and again, trusting his judgement. “Hey, you know what we should do?” Kunhang said as you queued up for the self-service checkout line, eyeing the items on display. When you hummed in response, he followed with, “we should hang out next week. In real life. We could do it on Sunday so you’ll still have one day of tutoring.”

It felt somewhat embarrassing that you agreed so quickly to his suggestion. You definitely should have played it cool but you had been meaning to ask him the same thing for a while now, so you were glad that he suggested it. “We can meet up at a café or something! Maybe have lunch? I’m paying, though!” It was only fair since he was helping you out for free.

“Lunch sounds good.”

“Great!”

“Great!” Kunhang mimicked, just as enthusiastically. “I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later?”

Both of you said your goodbyes then hung up. After tucking your phone back into your pocket, you made your way to the till that just freed up and began scanning your items. Once everything was paid for and bagged, you retrieved your phone to shoot a quick text in the group chat with Yangyang and Dejun, asking them if they felt like watching a movie franchise with you. They agreed, but only after Yangyang asked if ‘you’re weekly date with Kunhang got cancelled’ which earned him a picture of you flipping him off.

*

“Today’s the big date, huh?” Yangyang asked teasingly as you checked your appearance in the mirror once more, sprawled out on the couch as he made his way through his third mango pudding cup. From beside him, Dejun and Yukhei – the newest addition to your friend group since he and Dejun had to do an assignment together – gave your form an assessing once over.

Dejun, smiling mischievously, said, “obviously, can’t you tell by how nicely they’re dressed.”

You mock glared at the pair while Yukhei lightly slapped Dejun for his comment. Then he, bless his heart, beamed at you and said, “you look great!”

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling sweeting at him before addressing the other two, you firmly said, “and it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out, like the three, now four”–you corrected, glancing over at Yukhei–“of us do on a regular basis.”

“Oh, are they just a friend from your course then or something?” Yukhei asked curiously while Dejun and Yangyang hummed in unison, disbelief clear in their tones.

“No, it’s this guy, he helps me out with calculus. We’ve never met in person but he’s really nice.”

“I should hope so,” muttered Yangyang, peeling the seal off another mango pudding cup. “You’ve been crushing on him for a while now, so it would be a bummer if he wasn’t.” He said through a mouthful.

“Am not!”

“Are too!” Dejun countered for him.

“Am not,” Yangyang mimicked. “So what about all the times you’ve mentioned him then, huh?” And then he placed his pudding cup on the table, clasped his hands together by his cheeks and, in a voice that was meant to sound like yours, said, “‘oh, Kunhang told me this stuff is really good, we should try it out!’, ‘Kunhang is so smart!’, ‘can you believe Kunhang volunteers at the animal shelter and the nursery home as much as he can? Isn’t that so sweet?’, ‘Kunhang has such a Disney Prince smile!’. You gush about him all the time, it’s kinda sickening.”

You threw your arm out at him as you looked towards Dejun, hoping for some back up but you should have known better. They were your best friends after all. Dejun simply shrugged as he snatched a pudding cup from the coffee table and said, “to be fair, you do gush about him a lot. And! Whenever you text him, which most of the time, you get this goofy smile one your face.”

“Huh,” Yukhei mumbled, his tone full of thought. “This guy sounds a lot like one of my buddies.” The three of you looked at him with wide, curious eyes. When he noticed, he added, “it’s probably just a coincidence?” Although his tone suggested otherwise.

“Probably,” you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved them in your pocket. “I’ve gotta get going or else I’ll be late.” You said as you made a beeline towards the door and slipped on the shoes you thought best suited your outfit. “Don’t wait up!”

“Why?” Yangyang replied just as you were about to close the door, playfulness evident in his voice, “I thought it was just lunch.” The other two cackled at that but you flipped him off and left the apartment, trusting that one of them would like the door behind you.

It was fortunate that you managed to catch the bus on time. After paying the appropriats fare, you made your way towards the back, earphones plugged in so that you could listen to some music along the way. Once seated, you took out your phone sent a text to Kunhang to let him know that you were on your way. His response was immediate, informing you that he was already nearby because his sister had asked him to run an errand for her, and asked you to text him when you were close.

Horizon was a cute little place that served as both a café and restaurant. It was sandwiched between a thrift shop and music store but, surprisingly, didn’t look the least bit out of place among the buildings. As you walked closed to it, you saw Kunhang standing by the entrance, bopping his head as he used his phone.

“Kunhang!” You called when you were close enough, after taking off your earphones and stuffing them into your pocket. Judging from the way he jolted slightly, you startled him. “Hey,” you greeted warmly when he removed his earphones. “You could have waited inside.”

Kunhang shrugged, a brilliant smile etched onto his face, “I thought it’d be easier if we walked in together.”

When you entered, you thought that you would have to find somewhere else to eat due to the amount of people present, but the staff who was waiting by the door only asked if you were eating in and then lead you to a table in the far corner of the room, right beside the window.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, y’know, in person.” Kunhang said as he browsed through the menu.

“You too,” you replied, peeking up from your own menu to find him wearing a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe it took us this long to be honest.”

Kunhang chuckled at that and nodded in agreement.

The meal seemed to fly by even though you left Horizon a little later than expected. You were still laughing as you headed out, thanking the waiter that served you one more time as you passed by him, at a story that Kunhang recounted that took place during his childhood. Although his texting style suggested otherwise, Kunhang was hilarious—which you knew already since he often made you laugh whenever you were on the phone with him, it was just a different feeling compared to the experience in person. You were almost sad at the thought of your time being over with him, until he jammed his hands into his pockets and, rocking back and forth on his herl, asked if you wanted to go get some ice cream since he knew a really good place nearby. And who were you to say no to that offer?

After fighting, again, over who would pay, the two of you roamed around for a bit, slipping into this store and that to window shop. Only when the stores began to close did you realize how late it had gotten. It wasn’t dark out, not yet, and you were surprised that several hours had passed since you first met up with Kunhang.

“Ready to call it quits?” You asked as the two of you began to make your way to where you would wait for your bus.

Kunhang shook his head and pointed somewhere behind you. “Let’s go to the playground over there. Race you.” And with that, he took off, leaving you to stare at him dumbfoundedly until your brain registered what he said and you ran after him.

“Cheater!” You huffed when you reached him, hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

Kunhang did nothing but through his head back and laugh at you. Attractively. It was something to ignore—his attractiveness, that was. But it was awfully difficult and all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice how you were looking at him. You couldn’t help it! Even though his outfit was relatively basic – just some gray-brown sweatshirt, black joggers and a pair of white sneakers – he looked effortlessly good. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made him attractive, either, oh no, because that just wasn’t enough. He also had to have an amazing personality.

“Let’s go over there,” he said after he sobered up, nodding towards the spring riders. “No racing this time.” He added with a wide grin. You weren’t able to suppress your own grin quick enough, rolling your eyes as you shoved his shoulder.

“I’m glad we met up today,” you admitted sincerely as you rocked back and forth on the spring ride. “You’re even better in person.”

Kunhang stopped rocking on his spring ride and looked at you. “I’m glad we met up today, too.” He told you with a smile that turned into one that was more sweet and shy as he said, “we should do it again some time, y’know, when we aren’t flooded with assignments and stuff.”

“Totally!”

“How about, maybe,”–Kunhang’s tongue darted out a sliver of his to wet his lips–“as a date?”

You stared at him in shock which he met head-on, that sweet, shy smile of his still present. You could feel a smile threaten to rise and you allowed it, messing with the hem of your top as you nodded in agreement. “That would be nice.”

“Really?” He asked, his tone both excited and unbelieving. When you assured him that you would be really looking forward to it, he said, “that’s– that’s great! I can’t wait, either.” Then, he jumped of his spring ride, held out his hand and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles like the Disney Prince he was when you placed your hand in his.

“We should probably head home.” You said, hand still in his. Kunhang never let go, so you figured he was okay with you interlocking your fingers and swinging your hands back and forth.

Like the gentleman he was, he waited for your bus with you and waited until you got on it, blowing kisses at you through the window. Your smile was so big your cheeks began to hurt as you pretended to catch the kisses.

(Later, after you had told Yangyang about how the day went swimmingly, you received a text from Kunhang and couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. Your room-mate shot you a curious look so you let him read the text.

from: kunhang 💘

You know Yukhei?!?!?!!!!)

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Handyman.

Pairing: Zac x Reader

Warning: A grain of smut (but seriously, that’s how non-existent it is)

A/N: Y’all have opened the floodgates on requests for this cutie pie. Here’s the first.

Request: “Are you sure it’s not supposed to go here?”

“I’m positive it’s not supposed to go there!”

Summary: With a recent move, Zac takes it upon himself to set up your bed. He quickly learns he hasn’t quite earned the title of “handyman.” 

Words: 1.6k

“Are you sure it’s not supposed to go here?”

“I’m positive it’s not supposed to go there!”

You lower the manual, in your hands, just enough to put your boyfriend back in focus.

Zac is across the room. Still wearing his sweatpants and white t-shirt from the night before, he is more wide awake than you are. It's nearly seven in the morning, and you're in no rush to shake away the sleep still bogging down your mind.

It's Saturday morning, and your excitement of purchasing your first place together was enough to convince Zac to set up your bed bright and early. You’re still not sure why he didn’t just have it delivered and assembled.

You impatiently check the time on your watch. The movers aren't set to come for another three hours. Zac has been working on the bed for nearly forty-five minutes. You offered to help, but he swore he didn't need it.

Or the manual. 

You scan the discarded plastic and boxes, a tiny smile spreading across your lips as Zac studied the pieces laid out across the room. 

"It looks like it should fit." 

Your gaze returns to the manual, your brow furrowing. 

"I'm pretty sure you’re gonna need these screws." You lean forward picking up the untouched bag of screws. Zac steals a glance in your direction before glancing back at the board in his hand. "Babe, just look at the instructions."

Zac glances over at you, his eyes rolling.

"I don't need the instructions," he grins. "It's just a bed. How hard can it be?"

Apparently, extremely difficult. 

Stepping over a discarded box, Zac tries for a second time to push the board into the slot. And for a second time, it doesn't fit.

"The boards should just slide into place-besides, I'm pretty sure it goes here," he grunts, a soft smile finding your lips at his stubbornness. He waves his hand towards the tiny portion of the bed he has managed to successfully assemble over the last forty-five minutes. "I've made it this far without that book, Y/N. I got this."

"It's called a manual for a reason. What is it with boys and directions? If it was supposed to fit it'd slide it much easier. We also wouldn’t need these-"

Pushing yourself off the ground, you sigh as Zac applies more pressure than the two previous times. Just as you're about to swat him out the way, Zac releases a grunt before shifting the board deeper into the notch. A triumphant “got it” follows as the board is forced into place.

You catch sight of his playful blue eyes, and boyish grin, as he admires his handiwork.

He places a quick kiss against your lips before shifting you aside. 

"Told you it would fit."

Zac gathers the second board, shifting it into place to form the second half of the bed frame. Each board that slides into place lets off a satisfying click, each a pat on Zac's back.

Once's he's assembled the bed frame, Zac turns to face you a triumphant grin on his face. 

"Piece of cake." He grins as his hands find your waist.

Guiding you back, he moves you towards the center of the room. Once he feels you're in a position adequate for admiring his handiwork, he wraps his arms around you.

With the mattress placed on top of the frames, the bed does seem pretty stable. But you could have sworn it looked crooked a few seconds earlier.

Your eyes narrow as Zac's chin rests against your shoulder.

"Babe, just because it's standing doesn't mean it was set upright." You use your foot to point towards the abandoned screws on the floor. "I'm pretty sure those were supposed to be used."

"They were spares."

"Spares? Did you even use any screws? There have to be fifteen screws on the floor-"

"You're just mad because I did it without your manual," he chuckles as he slips the book out of your hand. Tossing it the floor, he playfully squeezes your hips. "Just look at it, for a minute, and tell me that's not the best damn bed you've ever seen."

Your head tilts to the side. 

"I swear it's crooked."

Mirroring your actions, Zac studies the king-sized bed before shrugging his shoulders. 

"Looks good to me."

"Then by all means, maybe you should quit your day job," you giggle as he steps around you, the grin on his face growing as he studies the bed. "Become a handyman." 

"The first piece of furniture up in our new place, courtesy of me," Zac lifts his hand in the air, his brow furrowing as you make no move to meet the action. 

"Is it?" The skepticism in your voice causing Zac's eyes to roll. You do the same before lifting your hand to meet his, which is still waiting in the air. "How do we know it’s stable?"

Zac's hand runs over his beard, his brows furrowing in deep mock thought. He glances over at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Good question...Only one way to find out."

Your hands go up defensively but before you can take a step back, the air is pulled from your lungs. The blood instantly begins rushing to your head as your feet are swept from under you. He effortlessly brunts your weight against his shoulder, as he lifts you off the ground, your giggles making it impossible for you to catch your breath.

"Stop before you drop me-” Zac's grip tightens securely along the back of your thighs, his chuckle filling the air as you attempt to push yourself up. Your heart flutters in your chest as he turns towards the bed. "Do not throw me on to that safety hazard." 

Zac's weight teeters forward the shifting of balance causing you to squeal. Just before you hit the mattress, he returns to normal. 

Gently lowering you onto the bed, he smiles as your arms wrap around his neck. Although you are back on a solid foundation, you find yourself glancing around to check that it hasn't shifted.

Lowering himself down on top of you, Zac places a kiss against your lips.  

"See. It’s all about having a little faith."

"I have faith in you," you counter. Noting his raised brow you giggle. “I don’t have faith in this bed."

“Scale 1 to 100?” His brow piques as he pulls back to get a good look at your face.

“Since it didn’t instantly collapse? I’d say it went up-”

"To at least 90." Zac finishes your sentence with ease, the confidence in his voice pulling a giggle from your lips.

Your nose scrunches as you shake your head.

"A solid fifty."

“Unacceptable,” he smiles. “We’re not leaving this bed till it’s at least 100.” 

“It’s only right.”

"Besides," Zac mumbles as his lips find yours. Stealing a kiss, he smiles before shifting for better access to your neck. A smile pressed against your collar bone. “We gotta break it in. That’ll be the true test.”

"Naturally." You giggle, the warm fingers massaging your rib cage pulling a soft moan from your lips.

Shifting his weight, Zac presses a kiss against your hip. His mouth is warm soft against your stomach, passing over your ribs as he guides your t-shirt towards your chest. 

“Let the neighbors know we finally moved in.”

The kiss you place against his lips is all the confirmation Zac needs. 

Soon you’re both undressed, your fingers lost in his hair, his hips pressing into yours. It’s not until you swear you feel the bed shift, the boards releasing a groan, that your hands press against Zac’s chest causing his movements to halt. 

He lifts his head from your neck, his eyes finding your face.

“What?”

Placing your hand over his mouth, you ignore the rolling of his eyes. You listen, but the only thing you can hear is you and Zac’s breathing. 

“You didn’t hear that?” 

“No,” he chuckles, his lips pressing a series of very distracting kisses along your wrist. “I was kinda busy.”

"Babe, I think-”

“It’s fine,” Zac grunts you as he ducks down to kiss you. “Relax.”

Although his words may not have been the most reassuring, you find that your mind quickly abandons the thought as he starts to move again. Neither of you registers the groan from the bed once it initially bounces off the walls. The shallow breaths and giggles flooding your senses.

But the jerking of the mattress registers perfectly. 

Zac’s grip tightens around your as your scream fills the air. The right post shifts beneath your weight, knocking the entire frame balance off. The mattress shifts right, sliding towards the ground. The unstable balance kicks the other post out of its post causing the entire frame to collapse pulling you both, and the mattress, down to the floor with a loud thud. 

The slamming of it echoes throughout the empty house.

Zac's grip around your waist relaxes as your eyes meet his. The smile spreading slowly across his lips grows as your hands cover your face. His face drops into your shoulder, his body relaxing against yours as you attempt to steady the hammering of your heart.

Zac’s laughs make it impossible for you not to do the same. 

“I’m not even going to say it,” you giggle as you reach up to brush your fingers against his hair. 

“Good,” he chuckles as his lips press against your palm. “Because we both know what really broke the bed.”

“Shut up,” you giggle as he shoots you a sheepish grin. “It wasn’t even fixed to begin with!”

"You wanna finish?" He teases, the kiss he presses against the corner of your mouth pulling a giggle from you. Placing a second kiss against the same spot, Zac chuckles as you shake your head. "I can just shift the mattress a bit."   

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 6

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) — suggestive content awaits in this part.

Word count: 2344

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what now?” you asked when you answered the front door the following morning, your gaze travelling to the two horses tied up near the house. You laughed nervously and shook your head. “No, no. Just because we had a friendly excursion together yesterday doesn’t mean I’m quite ready for this.”

“It’s not that scary, I promise.”

“Tell that to someone who wanted to ride a pony as a kid. I didn’t. I was an inside only and play with dolls, type of girl.”

“You don’t need to have a love affair with ponies as a child to learn how to ride now. Stop giving me excuses and get out here, would you?!”

Heaving in a deep breath, you eyed the creatures warily before reaching for the keys to the front door. Jaehyun waved you off. “You don’t need to lock up.”

“Someone could easily walk onto this property.”

“Walk?” Jaehyun mused, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Drive up the road and find it. Call it a habit, if you will,” you told him as you slotted the key into the door and locked it. You smiled over at him. “I’ll feel more at ease knowing it’s locked up. And I have a pocket for them, so don’t worry.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Miss City.”

“Back to that?”

“Well, you’re about to learn how to ride from a cowboy. It seems fitting,” Jaehyun replied, and you grinned. “Come on. Old Roger here is half-blind and safe as houses.”

“I don’t think blind and safe work together like that,” you murmured, following him over to the brown horse. You gave him another look. “And who names a horse Roger?!”

“You’re so talkative when you’re nervous.”

“Just hurry up before I back out entirely,” you confessed, and Jaehyun let the stirrups down from laying over the seat of the western saddle.

He then pointed to something sticking off the front of it. “That’s what we call the horn. Take a hold of that and stick your foot in the stirrup there.”

You reached up for the horn and then attempted to get your foot into the stirrup. Not quite making it, you turned to look at Jaehyun. “Oh dear, I’m not able to do this. Well, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Not so fast,” he said as his arms slipped around your waist and pulled you back to his side. You glanced up at him, and Jaehyun blinked a couple of times before grinning lopsidedly. “So eager to get away from me, huh?”

“So eager to hold me,” you pointed out, and his hands dropped to his sides momentarily before guiding your hand up to the horn again.

“This time, hold the horn, and I’ll give you a leg up,” he offered, moving effectively to cup your foot and pushed up. Without realising it, you threw your leg over the opposite side of the saddle and sat down. Jaehyun laughed at your stupor. “Look at you. We’ll make a rider out of you in no time.”

You smiled proudly down at him, and Jaehyun patted Roger before handing you the reins. He sorted your fingers around them before stepping away. “Wait!”

“What?”

“You can’t just put me up on a horse and then walk away from me. Shouldn’t you lead me around first or something? Take care of me!”

Jaehyun chuckled. “Thought you weren’t a pony ride type of girl?”

“Not funny! He might walk off with me! What do I do then?!”

Jaehyun evaluated the snoozing animal you sat aboard and then swiftly mounted his own stead. He looked over at you. “Oh no, what are you going to do now, Y/N? He’s going to start walking as soon as Blaze here does.”

“That’s not funny!” you exclaimed, gripping the horn of the saddle when Jaehyun clucked at his horse, and it walked off. Roger stepped off in time as the other horse, and your eyes bulged out of your head.

Jaehyun glanced back at you. “Relax. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Trust in me.”

Jaehyun’s words resonated with you, and you took in a deep breath and tried to relax. Roger fell in step with Blaze, and you glanced over at Jaehyun nervously.

“Do I just hold the horn?”

“If you want to. Roger won’t do anything Blaze doesn’t. But try to relax your grip at least. Those reins lead to a bit in his mouth. You don’t want to tug too hard on that.”

You unclenched your hands immediately, barely holding onto the reins. You decided to keep one hand on the horn though, just in case. Jaehyun nodded. “There you go, now you’re riding.”

“I’m riding,” you repeated, looking forward along the track you were on. For fifteen minutes or so, you just enjoyed the feeling. It was freeing, even if you had been frightened at first, to be up on a horse with all this land around you. The morning sun wasn’t too hot, yet it felt nice upon your back. You could see yourself growing accustomed to this view. From the back of a horse, everything seemed more magical with the way the light hit it.

And then Jaehyun had to go and ruin your peace. “We’ll try a jog now.”

“A what? No, thank you, walking is fine.”

“I want to show you a place, but it’ll take us all day if we amble up there,” Jaehyun persisted. “Just hold onto the horn, okay?”

“Jaehyun, I-!”

He asked Blaze up a gait, and like clockwork, Roger followed along. You squealed with the change, trying to balance yourself with the fast and bumpier speed. Glaring at Jaehyun, you gripped the horn tightly, focusing on keeping in the seat of the saddle. The longer you jogged, the easier it became, but you were still grateful when both horses slowed back to a walk.

“You’re a jerk!” you exclaimed as Jaehyun laughed at you.

“That I am, but you survived, didn’t you?”

“Wherever we’re going better be worth it!” you told him adamantly and recklessly leaned over and shunted him.

Whilst Jaehyun was okay, you forgot for a second that you were on top of a horse. Unlike him, you hadn’t ever ridden before, and your balance wasn’t as secure. You gripped onto his t-shirt in hopes to find leverage.

Jaehyun leaned in towards you. “Trying to touch me, are we?”

“Don’t! I was just--” Jaehyun helped you back upright, and you shakily drew in another breath.

He grinned. “Hold onto that horn unless you plan on riding double with me, won’t you?”

“So this is it?” you asked when the horses came to a halt, and Jaehyun nodded. “It’s another field, Jaehyun.”

“We can’t use this field for grazing our herd on. It’s too far away from the house to travel to daily and becomes a waste of time when we already have enough to do. It’s hard as rocks during summer and bogs with mud in winter.”

“Sounds cursed.”

Jaehyun glanced at you. “It’s also the closest field we have to the mountain ranges.”

“Huh, so it is.” You surveyed the area, deciphering where you were on the internal map inside your mind. You gasped. “This was the spot I was trying to find access to!”

“Only way in currently is upon horseback,” he mentioned cautiously, readjusting his hat on his head. “My Dad would kill me if he found us out here right now.”

“You’re helping me. Why?”

“You seem genuine,” he answered honestly, gauging your reaction intently. “You’re not here to make big bucks for the company and rob the small people in the process. After yesterday, and with how many came up to us at the market to say hi, I can tell you care about Blayne already.”

“Well, its early days but I do want what’s best for everyone.”

“If we sold this land and then our neighbours gave over the adjacent property, we could build a road and put in more housing, in the very least.”

“You don’t want the resort, do you?”

“Would you? Who needs one when we have enough activities to fill the day?”

You smiled. “My first goal would be housing too. Blayne needs more workers. Workers tend to bring their family along with them. We’d need to change the town model a little to accommodate all of this.”

“The farmers here won’t accept strangers to work their lands. When Avery left, it was really hard for me to manage the herd we have. Caleb is helpful, but he’s slow from a limp to his leg. Dad wants to increase production over the next two years. It’s a joke if he thinks the four of us can manage both our property and my Uncle’s.”

“They’ll need to swallow their pride and let workers in then. I can help with that. I’m sure if we band together, we can help those living here first.”

“Things like these take more than months to execute, Y/N,” Jaehyun mentioned, turning Blaze back towards where you had travelled from. “You talk as if you will be here to change it all. It was just an idea to show you the land.”

“I’m deeply appreciative. Believe me. And whilst things might take time out here, I’m from the city. Rome might not have been built in a day, but we have construction workers by the hundreds. Progress can happen quickly.”

Jaehyun nodded softly right when the morning sun disappeared. He stared up at the skies just as you did, squinting when a raindrop fell upon your cheek. He laughed. “Looks like the weather is showing us how quickly it can change too. Ready to jog again?”

“As long as you don’t bring up this loping you talked of earlier, I’m ready!”

It took thirty minutes of trotting, and by the time you arrived back at your home, you were both soaked through. Jaehyun dismounted first before coming over to your side and gesturing to get down. You landed at his side and laughed, both of you bringing the horses into the barn and out of the weather. Jaehyun took off their gear and popped them in the two end stalls, gesturing for you to go over to the house.

“You’re going to catch a chill if you don’t get out of those clothes,” he mentioned, and you placed your hands on your hips.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes now.”

“Easy on there, Y/N. I’m being a gentleman right now,” he commented with a bite to his lips thereafter, and you shook your head with continued laughter, stepping up onto the veranda and reaching into your pocket for the keys.

Smile fading, you dug your hand in deeper. Your search came up empty. “Jaehyun.”

“Mm?”

“I’ve lost the keys,” you announced, and Jaehyun eyes widened.

“You did?”

“Yeah, they must have fallen out as we rode,” you surmised, slapping your forehead in despair. “Oh! Maybe they fell out when I dismounted before.”

You went to dash back out into the rain that was now coming down sideways, but Jaehyun stopped you, grabbing your arm and shaking his head. “Don’t go back out there.”

“We’ll both get sick if we stay out here like this, though!”

“I know a way in.”

Taking your hand properly, Jaehyun led you around the veranda to a window on the side. He let go of you then, his palms pressing against the wooden window frame. It dislodged from its shut position, and Jaehyun pushed it up into the top window, offering enough space for you both to clamber through it. He awkwardly managed to do so first, holding it open for you to follow suit.

You stumbled when you landed, and he caught you, his hands taking purchase on your hips. You grinned up at him. “How did you know to do that?”

“I was once a teenager,” he pointed out, and you laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you were a goodie two shoes.”

“What did you have here to sneak out to?”

His smile faded as he took in your close proximity. “Not you.”

The temperature in the room grew hotter the longer you stared back at one another. You were acutely aware of where your hands rested on his chest, and where his were on your hips. Slowly, you slipped them up and hooked them around his neck, eliciting flames of hunger to rise within his eyes.

“I’m here now, though.”

“You’ve only been here for a few weeks. Are you going to be here today and gone tomorrow?”

You shook your head. “I have no plans on leaving anytime soon.”

That was enough for Jaehyun to capture your lips in a fevered kiss, his body pressing into yours. You gripped onto his shoulders, and he hoisted you up, your legs curling around his waist as you continued to release all the tension that had built between you. You gasped for air, and his tongue dove in to meet yours, both blindly moving around the study towards the door.

Pulling away breathlessly, Jaehyun stared at you again. “I didn’t think we’d be doing this so soon.”

“Feels like we’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for longer than three weeks.”

“We should stop. If we keep going on like this, something’s bound to happen.”

“Like a shower and then you taking me to bed?” you offered demurely, the man holding you breathing out a curse. You smirked. “You could stop if you want to slow things down, Cowboy.”

“I hold the fastest score at barrel racing in these regions I’ll have you know.”

You giggled with delight as Jaehyun started to ascend upstairs. “I hope that’s not the same speed that you go at during other things, Jaehyun.”

Kissing you passionately again, Jaehyun didn’t answer with words when he placed you down on your feet once you reached your first destination, simply tugging his t-shirt over his head before kicking the bathroom door shut behind you both.

_________________

Part 7

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[thiswasinevitableid]

The Bachelor

A birthday gift for @bellafarallones. Part 3 of the TAZ Amnesty Bachelor AU (sternclay and indruck were the first two) AKA what Vincent was up to. Apollo is from my Amnesty Super Hero fic

The entire United States to choose from and this is the best the producers could find? He’s going to win this thing with his eyes closed. Then it’s a hop, skip, and jump to some endorsement deals, his own spin-off, and then a prime time hosting slot. 

Oh, and a marriage. But that should be easy; any guy would count themselves lucky to have him.

God, that pool will be great for Instagram shots. Luckily the producers knew their biggest draw when they saw him and agreed to let Indrid continue his work as Apollo’s personal photographer and assistant. He may be a disappointment to the Cold name, but he’s good with a camera and has no interest in being recorded for the show. And if, god forbid, Apollo comes down with a cold during filming, someone will be there to bring him Day-Quil. After all, if he lets anyone see Apollo in a vulnerable state, Apollo will just have to send their father an email about Indrid’s latest failure. 

“It’s times like this we should be grateful for our genes. I know I am.” He glances at his twin, pausing his gaze on his silver hair and tattoos.

“You dye yours too. And I think there are more than a few handsome men here, so don’t get cocky.” His attention shifts for a moment as a man dressed like Smokey the Bear passes them.

“Oh come on, even with those pretentious glasses you can see I’m a cut above.”

“If you say so. And if you want to do shots of you in your suit, we need to start soon, so kindly find your room so we can get on with it.”

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Not only is this easy, it’s fun. The cameras love him, and most of his fellow contestants yield to him after one remark. He’s been watching Vincent, the bachelor for this season, closely during group interactions, and it’s clear he’s already developing favorites. Annoyingly, two in particular--Joseph and Duck--are more inclined to push back at him. But it doesn’t matter; everyone has weaknesses. He’ll find theirs soon. 

Tonight is his first formal date with Vincent. They’re at an Italian place with good lighting, and Vincent is perfectly nice to look at in his lavender dress shirt and silver tie. Apollo’s done his research; Vincent is ten years his senior, took an early retirement from a position in the department of defense and now runs two consulting businesses; one for banks and museums and one for domestic violence shelters, health clinics, and other places where doing good draws enemies. The first business subsidizes the second. Vincent enjoys tennis and running, has no Instagram presence, and is an only child. 

Apollo has his plan of attack; the trouble is, Vincent isn’t interested in sitting there and being flattered (though he does blush when Apollo says the tie makes the grey in his hair look all the more distinguished). He wants to know about Apollo. 

“When you’re not taking photos, what do you like to do?”

He doesn’t correct him about who takes the pictures, smiles, “I, ah, I go to the gym.”

“I have to say it shows.” Vincent winks. It’s so corny, but Apollo can’t find it in him to hate it, “any sports, or just things like weights and cardio?”

‘

“No, but I played football in high school. I was star running back.”

“I played my freshman year, but baseball suited me better. So when you're not ‘pumping iron’, what do you do for fun?”

There is no answer that won’t make him look too shallow or too...no, he can’t even think about that option. Damn it, he must have a normal hobby. He hedges with the truth and hopes the editors cut it for time. 

“I like movies. I, ah, I’ve been working my way through the Criterion Collection of the birth of cinema  and it’s fascinating. Did you know there was a silent film heartthrob who predates Valentino?”

“Sessue Hayakawa?” 

“You know about him?” He leans forward.

“I read a biography of him last year that was riveting. I still have it if you’d like to borrow it.”

“Yes, yes absolutely. We, we could even watch some of his films together, and the ones they inspired, you know they, they…” 

Fuck, he’s acting like Indrid, bumping the table and yammering about things that will get him nowhere. He sits back, grabs his wine and sips to cover his error. 

“I’d like that.” Is all Vincent says as they’re entrees arrive. 

“Enough about me. I was reading about your business and, ah, well, how do you even do something like that?”

Vincent describes his process, how he picks clients and what he considers when evaluating a space. Apollo fully intends to zone out with a smile. 

He hangs on every word. All too soon, Vincent is asking for dessert. 

“Is your meal okay?”

Apollo looks at the plate of spaghetti carbonara he’s been poking at, not wanting to be caught in an ugly expression while eating, “Yes, it’s delicious.”

Dessert arrives in the shape of a chocolate lava cake with sparklers, a detail which delights Vincent. It’s such a ridiculous thing to smile over. Apollo smiles back, and let’s his date feed him a bite of cake. 

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Was the beach trip self-serving on Vincent’s part? Indeed. Has it also given him valuable intel? Yes, yes it has.

He now knows who’s going home next; Nico is such a fraternity-bred asshole that he should have sent him packing weeks ago. Honestly, all his comments about Barclay this morning were awful. Barclay is masculine and sweet in a way Vincent adores. He even helped Joseph during the cliff dive, which bumps him even higher in Vincent’s eyes. 

Joseph stealthily knocking Nico’s hat from his head with a frisbee was also a high point; goodness, Joseph reminds him of men he used to work with who he never, ever, admitted his feelings for (they were often his subordinates, and he prided himself on keeping a safe department). 

Then there’s Duck. Vincent would like an award for not spending the morning asking to rub sunblock on those arms. He’s been treated to a closer view of them the last half-hour, Duck sitting next to him in a Hawaiin shirt that shows off his biceps. The ranger just now excused himself (“gotta give the other fellas a chance to impress”) to go keep Indrid company during dinner. Polite and friendly to the core, that’s his favorite bear. 

And then there’s-

“Hiiii Vincent.” Apollo slides into the spot closest to him on the restaurant deck. 

Were Vincent choosing for an evening, Apollo would edge out even Duck. He suspects getting the younger man under some comfortable sheets to praise and fuss over him would be very nice indeed. Apollo may posture and insist to the others that he’s the dominant one in the bedroom, but this isn’t Vincent’s first go around; he knows someone who longs to be spoiled and submissive when he sees one.

But he’s here to choose his husband, not a hook-up. 

He initially assumed he’d send Apollo home after their first formal date. He knows these shows sometimes attract people who want their fifteen minutes of fame, and Apollo is one of them. But then his meticulously built image cracked, just a little, as they talked, and Vincent is so taken by what he saw that he can’t bring himself to send him home yet.

The older man slides the younger one an oyster, “try one, they’re local.”

There’s no appealing way to eat an oyster on camera, but Apollo lifts a shell and downs one. He does an excellent job masking his grimace.

“Another? Or would you like one of the grilled scallops instead?”

He watches him run a calculus. Then he slides his sunglasses down, “Scallop, please.”

Maybe there’s hope for him yet.

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

“Indrid, Vincent hates me!”

Indrid blinks at him.

“One of the other contestants got them to show him a bunch of footage of me putting the other men in their place and now he hates me.” Genuine panic rises in his chest as Indrid gives him absolutely no expression to work from. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to him, tell him that I’m not-”

“What you actually are? Vincent is here to choose a spouse; he has a right to not choose you.”

“Fix. It.” Apollo snarls.

His twin stands, regarding him from across the rug, “I will speak to Vincent, on one condition; you do not go after Duck ever again.”

“Traitor, you should be on my side, not his.”

Indrid shrugs, sits back down and picks up his book. 

“I’ll, I’ll tell father you’re sabotaging me.”

“You think he’ll like to hear you’re being out done by his inferior son?”

“....Damn it. Fine, fine. I’ll leave Newton alone. Now go.”

His brother has the audacity to grin at him, “I will, right after I finish this chapter.”

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

He’s sitting with Duck and Joseph, asking their opinion, when Indrid enters the living room.

“Did Apollo send you?” Vincent picks lint from his cardigan. 

“Yes. He’s asking me to intercede on his behalf since he thinks you hate him.”

“Oh dear, I don’t hate him. I just said I was disappointed in him.”

“Ah” Indrid perches on the arm of Duck’s chair, “That’s our father’s code for ‘I hate you.”

“Jesus.” Duck mutters.

“I suspected he was exaggerating. That’s why I agreed to talk to you; I’ve learned it’s best to verify anything  he tells me. In truth, I can’t do much for him.  If it’s not obvious, he takes after our father and our father is...not a good man. We each survive him in our own way; Apollo chose to mold himself into what he demanded we be. That does not excuse him. But perhaps it puts him into perspective.”

Vincent knows he’s not sending Apollo home this week; it’s still Nico’s turn. And his heart that taps his chest to ask, “Do you think he could change?”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is keeping his mouth shut, but his frown suggests his answer.

“This is not to defend him but” Joseph looks at Indrid, “you grew up under the same conditions and chose not to replicate them. That suggests it’s possible.”

“I just didn’t want to end up like him.” Indrid murmurs.

“And ‘possible’ don’t mean probable.” Duck adds.

Vincent rubs his temples, “You’re right. All of you. I...I think I need some time to decide how many chances to be the person I think he can be I ought to give him.”

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

Apollo isn’t sure what to expect. The last time Vincent asked to see him, it was to scold him. Three guys have gone home since then, and he’s been fighting back his impulses to torment and gloat, focusing instead on  making Vincent like him instead of undermining the competition. 

The door opens on a room with a bed, lots of candles, and…

“Is that whale song?”

“Yes. I picked a ‘soothing’ playlist to fit the mood.” Vincent is in linen pants and a button up short sleeve, pats the bed with a smile, “I thought a nice massage might do you good. Non-sexual, of course” he tips his head at the camera.

Apollo isn’t shy. His thirst traps are legendary. But he lays on his stomach the instant he’s down to his underwear. Vincent hums as he starts on his shoulders, checking in now and then about pressure. It would be nice if Apollo’s skin weren’t starving for gentle touches. He keeps letting out pathetic sounds, almost like chirps, as Vincent rubs him down. 

Then the worst thing happens; he gets hard. At first he tries just keeping his hips still but no, just Vincent’s touch is enough. So he tenses in hopes of not giving it away.

“Is it too hard?”

“No, I’m fine.”

The hands leave his skin and he whines like a kicked dog. 

“Would you gentlemen let us do the rest in private? I’m sure the viewers get the point.”

There’s shuffling feet and shutting doors, and then a gentle hand rolling him onto his back.

“Apollo, what’s really--oh. That explains it.” 

He scrambles to sit up, tucking his knees to his chest, “I’m sorry, you said you didn’t want it to be sexual, I didn’t do this on purpose, I swear-”

The bed squeaks along with him as Vincent sits, “Sweetheart, I’m not going to get angry with you for this. If, um, if it helps to know, the feeling is very much mutual.”

It should feel like a triumph, but his cheeks burn and he hides his face against his knees. 

“Does that bother you?”

“No! No, not at all. I wouldn’t be wooing you on T.V if I didn’t think you were attractive. Blech, I sound like one of Indrid’s romance novels. Not, not that there’s anything wrong with Indrid...liking...silly things.”

Vincent cups his face and he leans into it, wants to glue his cheek there, “Apollo, I’ve noticed you’re trying to be less...unkind since our little talk.”

“I’m trying. It’s just so very, very hard.”

“I’ve also noticed you’re letting your persona go now and then. That means a lot to me. I’m not interested in the man you think you should be; I’m interested in the man you might become, the man you are when you stop trying to be better than everyone. I like that man, I’d like to get to know him more.”

Apollo shivers as Vincent kisses his forehead, “I’ll do my best.”

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

“The nerve of Joseph to say things like that to me!”

Indrid doesn’t look up, “It’s a genuine concern; Vincent is older, there will likely come a time when you’ll be the one caring for him. Are you certain you’ll have the patience for that? Be willing to put your needs and wants on hold for the sake of someone else?”

That’s really what would happen? He, he could do it for Vincent, he’s certain. But could he? What if it’s hard, without glory or gain, does that make it foolish?

He chases those thoughts in dizzying circles for fifteen minutes until they crash into the solution.

“I solved it! I don't have to worry about taking care of Vincent as he ages because he'll divorce me once I reach thirty-two.”

“That is the bleakest possible conclusion.” Indrid flips his sketchbook closed. 

“Just let me have this!”

“I hate that I even have to say this but Vincent is not our father.”

“Father said he was doing what any sensible man would do.”

Indrid levels him with an unusually firm stare, “Do you not want Vincent just because he’s over thirty-two?”

“Of course not! He’s great! I, brother for goodness sake just tell me how to care for him.”

“I literally cannot do that. You have to figure it out for yourself what care looks like for you.”

He’s about to repeat his demand when his phone rings. 

“Hi, Vincent.”

“I'm so sorry, but I have to break our date tonight. I was out for a run and twisted my ankle. I just got back from the doctor; he says I sprained it, so I might be on bed rest a few days.”

Perfect. 

“Oh no, I’m glad it’s not too serious. Would, ah, would it be alright if I came to see you?”

They agree on a time. Then he remembers the problem that preceded the phone call.

“What do I do?”

“What do you want to do for him? Or, if your positions were reversed, him to do for you?” Indrid asks flatly. 

“Call you so he doesn’t see me looking frail.”

“assume I am dead and thus no longer dealing with your nonsense”

“That’s not fair.”

Indrid flops on the bed, “I'm dead, Vincent is the only one who is coming to take care of you, what do you want him to do?”

“Tell me it’s okay and spend time with me and…”

Indrid grins, “And?”

“And watch PBS in bed.”

“It’s a start. Now please get out of my room.”

An hour later he pokes his head into Vincent’s bedroom; the older man is reclining, reading a John Grisham paperback in a robe that makes him look very suave

“How are you feeling?” He sits next to him, rubs his knee. .

 “Oh, I'm fine, just feel a little silly. It used to be I could twist an ankle and come up fine. Aging is quite the adventure.”

“I, um, I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I, I don't like the thought of you getting hurt. Bot that you'd be bad if you did! I accept that we are all very fragile beings trying not to die.

(Too dark, Cold,  pull it back).

“I mean, um, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I'd be happy to have you stay awhile.” Vincent takes his hand, let’s him lean on his shoulder as they talk. They’re midway through a discussion of famous film disasters when a small burst of black and red lands on the windowsill. He doesn’t catch his excitement in time and Vincent asks him what made him perk up. 

With a courage he did not know he possessed, he points to the bird.

“Oh! How beautiful. What kind is it?”

“Scarlet Tanager” he mumbles, “they’re not common here.”

“Do you know a lot about birds?”

He nods. 

“There are some feeders just on that balcony. And I think the binoculars a friend gave me last Christmas are still in the closet, if you’d like to use them.”

“I would” he stands, heart bubbling with terrifying warmth, “thank you, da--ah, dear.”

Mischief sweeps across Vincent’s face, “Is this where you tell me you’ve had lots of older boyfriends?”

“No. I, ah, I’ve made out some but I never dated.”

“Not even a highschool sweetheart?”

“My father made it so no teenager wanted to go near our house. Or us.” The binoculars are magnificent, the best money can buy, “I always wished I had a date to homecoming. It looked so fun, asking someone or getting asked and then having matching outfits and going out to dinner and taking pictures together. I even picked out an outfit just in case someone asked.  I think Indrid snuck out to meet his burnout--, um, meet his friends. I just sat in my room.”

“You could have asked someone yourself, couldn’t you?” Vincent makes room for him on the bed once more. 

 “And risk getting rejected in front of the whole school? No thank you.” He stares at the binoculars, afraid of what he might see if he turns, “I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all this. I’m supposed to be here taking care of you.”

Vincent opens his arms, pulling Apollo into a hug, “You know care can go two ways at once, right?”

“Not really” he mumbles into silver silk.

“Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss on his cheek, hands running soothingly up his sides, and those weak, silly noises slipping from his mouth. 

“I want it to be, I’ll be so good, I’ll take care of you, just please...please say you’d do the same?”

“Of course. That’s what love is.”

He tucks his face against Vincent’s neck, “Will you make fun of me if I say I’m frightened?”

“Never.”

“I don’t know how to do so much of this. I don’t know how much of me can change.”

“Are you willing to try?” Vincent kisses the shell of his ear.

“For you? Yes.”

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

“I choose…” Vincent looks between Apollo and Jonathan. Apollo cannot wait to spring into his arms. 

“I choose neither.”

“What!” Ned yells off camera.

“I’m sorry to both of you but I simply can’t. Jonathan, you’re a very nice man, but our connection is ultimately lacking. Apollo” Vincent meets his eyes and he forces his gaze to stay placid, “I care for you more than words can say. I know you’ve worked so very hard to change. I also know that people can easily revert to their old, cruel ways under pressure or difficulty. Marriage often involves those things, and I’m not sure you can be the man I need you to be. With those misgivings,  it wouldn’t be fair to propose to either of you. I hope you understand.”

They both say the do, shake hands, give hugs. And he does, he truly does understand. He understands that Vincent made the choice he had to, that even though he got better he is still a rotten, cruel creature who doesn’t deserve him. He was taught he deserved the world; some good that did him. It lost him the only person who might make the world a less miserable place. 

“Apollo!” Vincent jogs after him, catches up to him in an empty hall, “Apollo I-”

His heart is breaking; his old ways twine like vipers around it, “I, I’m glad you didn’t choose me you, you boring, pathetic man. No wonder you have to pay people to go on dates with you! I don’t need anyone, least of all you!”

Vincent steps back, face falling as Apollo storms off. The last thing he hears is, “And here I thought I made the wrong choice.”

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

He deletes his Instagram. Gets a job as a personal shopper. Goes to therapy because he will not let Indrid outshine him when it comes to unlearning how they were raised. 

It helps. Three months after the disastrous finale (for him, not for the network) he’s feeling, if not better, like he might actually try dating someone soon. He also writes two apology letters; one to Indrid and one to Vincent. Then he tears them both up and just tells Indrid that he’s trying to be less of an asshole and that he’s sorry for all the time he was one. He leaves Vincent alone; if he doesn’t want to see him, the least he can do is respect that.

It’s migration season, so he’s hiding in his favorite, super-secret birdwatching spot. It’s near a pond, so lots of birds come to drink and bathe, and he’s seen several on his list. 

Branches crack, sending nearby jays into a flap. Damn it, he’s never seen someone else here; the only person he ever told about it was-

“Hi, Apollo.”

“Vincent!” He almost falls off his stump, “how, why?”

“I’d been meaning to explore this spot ever since you spoke about it. But I, um, was also hoping I might see you in the process. Pathetic, as you might say.”

“I did, didn’t I.” Apollo stares up at him, clutching his binoculars so hard they might become disparate spyglasses, “Vincent, I am so, so, so very sorry for how I acted when we last saw each other. I was hurt, all I want is to make someone else hurt more so I stop feeling so vulnerable and powerless. I, I’ve been working on it in, in” he winces “therapy. You said once that you wanted to meet the man I might be. I realized I wanted to meet him to, to be him, not to win some show or even to get you to like me but just because I don’t want to be the other Apollo anymore.”

Vincent sits next to him, “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I, I just want to un-fuck what I can. I, how have you been?”

“Doing lots of thinking. I still know I made the right call not proposing during the finale. And that I’m ready to start dating again.”

“I hope whoever you go out with knows how lucky they are.” He says without any motive but the truth.

Vincent plucks a late-blooming wildflower and offers it to him, “It’s not a rose, but then again, this isn’t a proposal. It’s just a date, if you still want one.”

“So badly.” 

The older man leans in, kissing him softly as his spine turns to soup, “I’m looking forward to meeting the, um, latest version of you.” He snickers at his own phrasing.

Apollo pulls him into a second kiss, “Me too.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

I do not have a decent title for this. I’m also not even going to bother with an image (even though I know it would generate more traffic) because I’m not going to steal someone’s shit. It’s about 3500 words, so have fun with that.

Chapter 1

Dying is not fun.

I do not know if you knew that until last night. Maybe you figured that since it was romanticized so much that it would not suck as much as it so clearly and obviously did. Maybe you dreamed of dying relatively peacefully, surrounded by your loved ones. Alas, those dreams were dashed last night when you, oh so wise Y/N, decided that you were going to try baking and forgot the most essential step; taking the thing out of the oven. You remember that night so clearly, the screams of your family begging for their lives still bouncing around in your ears like a torturous golf ball that made a habit of forcing itself into your throat, the feeling of your hair catching alight as your skin bubbled and charred, and rational thought became a foreign concept. You do not remember if you had died from a heart attack or hyperthermia or smoke inhalation, but you had a general idea that, yes, that night had been your last on Earth.

So, where the fuck are you?

You pull yourself into a sitting position, your back pressed against something hard as your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. The air smells like rotten food and exhaust engines as you pull yourself off the concrete, looking around the alleyway that you had found yourself in. It’s small, narrow, unremarkable in every way, with graffiti covered dumpsters near the entrance. Dazed, confused, generally out of sorts, you make your way to the entrance, patting yourself down for injuries you did not seem to have.

You rub the side of your face with your hand. ‘My head is killing me.’ You slip your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling a key and a piece of paper. ‘God damn it is cold in this alley.’ You zip up your jacket, walking out into the open as you pull the note out, beginning to read.

“Dear Y/N,” you mumble as you read, “we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our transference program, yadda yadda yadda, whoopdeedoo…” You skim ahead of some introductory jargon before getting near to the point of the note. “From this point forward, enjoy your permanent residence at ten West.. fifteenth street… apartment number six two two… New York, New York?” You blink. ‘I… that’s not my address.’ You pull out the key. ‘Wait, hold on.’ Your eyebrows furrowed. ‘New York? Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?’ Your eyes become unfocused. ‘I don’t live anywhere near NYC. Where am I?’ You look around for some sort of landmark, street name, anything to give you some idea of where you are.

You hear a car squeal to a stop on the street corner in front of you, snapping you out of your stupor. As identical men start climbing out of the back of the vehicle, all marching deliberately towards you, a fifteen-year-old girl, your immediate reaction is to run like hell. Unfortunately for you, apparently your speed was not comparable to that of the men who quickly apprehend you, scooping you up and dragging you kicking and screaming into a van. You hear vaguely familiar voices outside, but your focus is less on the mayhem and more on the more pressing matter of getting yourself out of the van. You pound at the door, feel for any sort of locks on the inside, something, anything to get you out of the van, still screaming your head off as you hope whoever was outside had the common sense to call nine one one. You feel your eyelids droop as your breathing slows, your voice dying as your pounding becomes less intense. You slide to you knees, eyes closing even as you mentally scream at yourself to get up, keep at it. You passed out.

--

You wake up laid on the floor this time, the pulsing of electricity above your head almost soothing as you open your eyes. You stagger to your feet, looking around your well-lit enclosure, pink florescent lights lining the ceiling and walls like arteries. After taking note of your new bruises and checking to see if you still have your few personal belongings—you do—you ran over to the door, eyes fixated on the mind boggling, ridiculous scene taking place in front of you.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ You back away from the slot in the door, trying to process the blatant larping headassery. You had not thought that you would honestly be able to say that, apparently, you were kidnapped by the mother fucking Kraang, yet, in some stroke of tomfuckery on behalf of whatever deity controls your universe, you have, obviously, been kidnapped by some seriously hardcore cosplayers. If nothing else, you must admire the obviously advanced set up.

You run your fingers through your hair, chuckling almost manically. “So,” you say to yourself aloud, “I got kidnapped by TMNT fanboys. Great. Fantastic, even!” You pace around the room, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I guess this makes me April O'Neil, then? Cool.” Your voice is extremely tight as you shake with intense, mostly negative emotions. “So, I’m somewhere in New York, kidnapped by the Kraang in the worst convention ever. Let me guess,” you laugh, losing your mind a little as you speak to nobody. “I’m gonna have a run in with the Teenage Fucking Ninja Turtles next, right?”

As if on que, you hear laser blasts and shinking metal. The high pitched beeping on an alarm sounded as you heard people—‘Male, teenagers… fuck my life,’— talking about power or something as their footsteps approach your room. You pound on the door. “Hey! Over here!”

You see a brown set of eyes look in through the window. Your suspicions are confirmed; ‘Definitely TMNT larping.’

“We found her,” the owner of said eyes, the one cosplaying as Donatello, calls to the others. Lasers shoot by his head as he turns to stare death in the eyes.

“We’ll hold them off. You pick the lock.” ‘Leonardo.’ You breathe a soft sigh of relief; if nothing else, you are apparently on the side of the people trying to get you out in this game. You hear footsteps going towards the firing.

“Don’t worry,” “Donatello” reassures you, voice tight with apparent anxiety, “I’ll have you out of there in a second!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up, trying to see what he was doing through the window. “Take your time.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

You sigh. “Look, man, I don’t know the script for the first episode by heart. You’re gonna have to cut me some slack for not being off-book.”

“Off—what?” He stares at you blankly.

You purse your lips. “I’ll explain if you let me out,” you promise. “Just pick the lock before the blue one gives you shit.”

“Oh, right! The lock!” He nods, grasping onto the logical thing you say and leaning down to start working on the alien technology. He pulls the cover off a control panel by your door, starting to fiddle with the wires.

You lean against the door, watching him work curiously. You hear the battle cries of “Michelangelo” and the toppling of robots as he works, clearly focused on his task. You zone out again. “This is some serious shit,” you mumble.

He mutters in frustration. The one dressed as Raph marches over, more impatient. “Oh for the love of—get out of my way,” he snarls, proceeding to take a very real looking sai out and stabbing the panel with a very in-character ferocity. You almost feel the urge to applaud the acting, and you might if this weren’t such a high stakes situation.

The door in front of you and behind you open at the same time and, deciding against getting captured again—you remember something about hanging from a helicopter in that scenario and you want nothing to do with that—you run alongside the turtles like your life depends on it, stumbling to a halt once you reach outside and slamming the doors closed behind you, blocking it with your back.

Your feet scramble to gain some traction on the cement. “Donnie,” you snap, almost impressed by the force used to pound against the doors, “put your staff in the handles of the door. We gotta go ASAP.”

“Wait, hold up.” The one dressed as Raph jabs his thumb towards you. “How do you know his name?”

You groan. “For fucks- it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not fucking Happy Sugar Life. Get the thing in the thing before the vine thing kills us!”

“The what?” Donnie and Raph seem much more confused than before, staring at you inquisitively and angrily respectively.

“Uh, guys?” Mikey pointed. “I think she means that vine thing.”

From the shadows emerges a towering creature made of plant life, its vinelike limbs draping across the ground like roots as it rears its ugly head. Its exposed, pulsating heart pressed against what remains of the creature’s ribcage. “You did this to me,” It growls. “Now you’re going to pay!”

“It’s-“

You cut Leo off. “Snake guy. Mutated into a weed. If you wanna kill it, go for the heart.”

He looked back at you, joining the other two pairs of piercing stares. “Cut that out.”

“Then don’t monologue and kill it before it has mobility!”

“On it.” Raph charges at its lumbering form, and within moments, it falls to the ground in a heap.

The pounding against the door is getting more intense. “Donnie! Staff!”

“Right!” He runs over, sliding his staff in between the door handles.

You stumble forward, the pounding already starting to crack the wood. “Alright, now we can leave.” Without waiting for the others, you sprint away from the building like your life depends on it. The others, clearly confused, follow.

You got a fair few city blocks away before you slow down, breathing heavy and palms stamped with the outline of the key you were holding desperately onto. “You run really fast for cosplayers,” you pant, “with all the- the paint and all.”

“Yeah, about that.” Donatello stops next to you, a thousand questions apparently swimming around in his head. “How do you know our names?” His mouth moves a mile a minute. “How did you know the weakness of that vine creature? What do you mean, cosplay? Who are you? Who were they?”

You cut him off. “One question at a time, hot stuff. Deep breathes.”

His pupils dilate. “H-hot stuff?”

Leo cuts in. “How did you know what we were—uh—cosplaying?” he asks tentatively.

“Odd time to cut the act, but alright.” Your heart rate lowers to a decent pace as your mind still struggles to comprehend what had just happened. You slow your breathing. “I mean,” you explain, gesturing with your hands, “it’s TMNT. It’s iconic.”

“Iconic?” He nods. “Well, since you know so much about it, then why don’t we test your knowledge? To see if you’re a real fan..”

“Y-you think I’m hot?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m down.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the melting turtle for a second. “Shoot.”

He thinks for a moment. “Who’s the main character?”

You shrug. “You four, I guess.”

Mikey jumped in. “What’s the theme song?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, buddy.”

“Is it really a great idea to just talk out here in the open?” Raph crossed his arms across his front.

“Probably not.” You look around. “Unless you have a map on you, I’d suggest we go back to your lair.”

“Our—what kind of stalker—”

“Look, honey,” you sigh, “if we’re going to go over every aspect of their lives that I know about we’re going to be here for a long time. For our purposes, just assume I know everything I need to know, and if you’re curious about specifics, we’ll go on a case-by-case basis.” You start walking down the sidewalk. “I’m guessing you guys hang out in the sewer, right?” You feel almost tempted to say that they’re just flat out psychotic, their blatant conviction in their own characters almost frightening. ‘I’ve heard of kinning,’ you think, pulling up a manhole cover you see at the end of an alley and wincing at the smell, ‘but this is ridiculous.’ You blink at the surprising lack of weight.

“Yeah.” Mikey—no, the Michelangelo cosplayer—walked over, already hopping in. “Our show must be super popular, right? Who’s the favorite character? How long have we been running?”

“Oh, you guys are—” You stop talking. “Wait, what year is it?” You start climbing down.

“Two thousand and twelve. Why?”

You step off the ladder, starting to walk behind him as he lead the way. “Well, it’s not tweny twelve where I’m from. It’s twenty twenty.”

“Wait, hold up.” He turns around to face you as he walks. “You’re from the future? That is so freakin awesome!”

You rub the back of your neck, trying to ignore the smell. “I mean,” you confess, “being from the future would be cooler if I was from a better time, I think.” ‘I wonder where they—’ You shake your head. “But, If we were running on the same time, I’d only be seven, I think, so it’s pretty cool I get to be here, I guess.”

“Dude, totally!” He turns a corner. “Our first day up top and we meet a time traveler?”

“Technically,” a voice from behind you makes you jump, “if what she’s saying is true, she somehow also knows interdimensional travel as well.”

‘Mother fucking ninj—cosplayers, focus. Don’t let them pull you in too.’ “Well, I really wouldn’t say—”

“Guys, is there not a clearly bigger concern on our hands?” You were already getting sick of not hearing footsteps. “Like, say, I don’t know, the fact she’s claiming we’re fictional characters?”

“Look, man,” you roll your eyes, “I already said I’m more than happy to answer any questions I can. In fact,” you continued, stopping in your tracks as you stared the red—clad turtle in the eye, “I’ll even stay put until we sort this whole situation out.”

“Fine by me.” Leo and Raph both face you, eyes boring into your soul as you stand there awkwardly.

“Let’s start off with the basics.” Leo’s tone is awfully light compared to his blatant skepticism. “What is everyone’s name?”

You force yourself not to roll your eyes again. “You’re all Hamatos.” You point at the tall one with the gap in his teeth. “That one’s Donatello, the yellow one next to him is Michelangelo, you,” you point at the red one with the broader shoulders, “are Raphael, and the sensei appointed leader is Leonardo. Easy.”

Leonardo nods. “Okay, you got the easy one.” It is at times like these when you wish you could read people. “What are we?”

“Teenage mutant ninja turtles.” You don’t have to hesitate.

“How did we become the way we are?”

“Splinter had a Kraang run in and you got ooze on you. Last thing you touched before you transformed was a person, so you became turtle/human hybrids.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

A sea of blank faces face you. “Wait, you know who those things are?” Donatello is the first to speak after a pregnant pause.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, the reality of the situation not yet dawning on you. “They almost take over the world in at least two season finales.

“They what?”

“Yeah.” You stick your hands in your pockets, fingering the key and note, confused by their apparent horror. “I mean, I’m still on the season three finale, but alien invasion is this show’s bread and butter for the most part.”

“I- what?” Raphael appears to be having a stroke. “What- bre- I- huh? What the-“

“Is he okay?” You look, completely unconcerned, at Donatello, who is swaying on his feet.

“Alien.. invasion…”

You blink, walking over to him and placing your hand on his cheek. You were surprised at the feeling of skin under your palm. ‘Not face paint..’ You look his incredibly pale face over curiously. ‘Not a mask…’ “Oh.” Your fingers slide down and off his jaw, falling slackly. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

If nothing else, he seems less concerned than he did a second ago.

Leonardo—‘The actual—hold on a minute.’—grabs your shoulder. “This isn’t a joke.” His face is stone. “You’re being serious, right?”

You felt blood drain out of your face. “Sadly? Yes.” You force yourself to take deep breaths so as to not pass out. “But, on the bright side,” you smiled weakly, “I can guarantee your survival for at least a few months.”

“What do you mean a few months?” Raphael is shaking as he yells, his voice roar echoing in the enclosed space. “How is it only—what the hell?”

“The show only ran over the course of an in-universe year.” You fight to keep your voice steady as dread seizes your throat. “I don’t know what happens after the year is up, or if it even lasts the whole year.”

“So we have less than twelve months to live?”

“This is so not cool.” Michelangelo is having a bit of a mental breakdown. “So, so not cool.”

“Hey, it’s not a guarantee!” You put your hands up reassuringly. “That’s just how long the show runs. Besides, it’s a kid’s show. There’s no way they’d kill off the main characters.”

“The hell they—who the hell is they?”

“Nickelodeon.”

“What the fuck is Nickelodeon?”

You groan. “Look, I’m just saying that you four are definitely going to survive the next few months!” Your voice rises easily to his volume. “I don’t know what happens after those months are up! I haven’t gotten to that point!”

“Why the hell not?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, laughing incredulously. “What, do you think I knew I was going to meet the IRL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had a chance to plan accordingly? No!” You throw your hands up in the air. “I died last night and now I’m here! Hell, I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to go, fuck knowing who’s going to get the fucking axe between now and the series finale!”

“Will you two both cut it out?” Leo snapped, shutting you two up.

You put your hands up, still fuming and glaring at Raphael. He responds in kind.

“What’s your name?” He looked at you.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Your breathing slows slightly.

“Alright. Y/N, you said you’ve seen up to season three, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Meaning you know what’s going to happen in the next few months, right?”

You nod at the leader.

He thinks for a moment. “Then we need to stay in contact. If what you’re saying is true, your knowledge of our show could be extremely valuable to us.”

You rub your eyes with your hands, sighing, trying to cool down. “I can do that.” You put your hands down. “If nothing else, I’m more than happy to offer up emotional support. The next few months are going to be extremely physically and emotionally difficult for you guys.”

Donnie pipes up. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You pull out the piece of paper. “I have an address and key, but I don’t know my way around NYC.” You smile slightly at the unintentional rhyme. “Do you guys know where ten west fifteenth street—wait, it’s your guys’ first day.” You nod. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Donatello is oddly quick saying that. “I-if you want, I—we can help you find it.”

You rub your arm, your previous indignance replaced with extreme embarrassment at your previous actions. “Nah, it’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m sure I can find a map or something.”

“It’s really not safe to just wander around New York so late.”

You pause at that. “That is an extremely good point.” You nod. “Alright. But I owe you guys dinner or something for trusting me this far. Also,” you smile teasingly, “what you’re currently eating is legitimately revolting.”

“Amen to that.” Raphael, if nothing else, seems to have calmed down.

Mikey hopped in. “Oh, we just found this crazy awesome food—”

“I can order pizza,” you reassure him.

He punches the air excitedly. “Let’s go!”

“If you want, you can sleep on the couch for tonight,” Leonardo offers. “It’s going to get light pretty soon, and we really shouldn’t be seen.”

You shrug. “Works for me.

As you follow the teenagers down the sewer, conversating as you walk, you take a moment to reflect on all that has happened so far. A part of you, oddly enough, is almost excited by the prospect of spending time with these guys. But a stronger, darker part reminds you sweetly of the dangers you knew lay ahead.

You close your eyes. ‘I’m never going to see my family again, am I?’

How that is the least of your worries, you don’t know.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 2

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch2: Hey Sailor

Chapter Summary: Mary is excited for her first riding lesson, and it seems that she’s not the only one…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

Thanks to my beta reader/sounding board @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for her input and her modes of transport kink...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

“Mary…” Frank sighed. “Take the boots off and get in bed.” “You told me that Miss Gallagher said I needed to wear them.” she looked at him.

“Yeah, but you can’t wear them in bed…”

Mary flopped onto the side of her bed and reached down to unzip the boots before she kicked them off and Frank picked them up and placed them out of the way. Mary shuffled down under her covers and lay her head back on the pillow and, once she was settled, Frank gently smoothed her blonde hair back off her face and smiled at her. Times like this she really did remind him of Diane.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” “Can I read for a little while?” she asked.

Frank rolled his eyes “Mary…”

“Please!”

“Fine, fifteen minutes tops. And I’ll be in to turn the light off, ok?” With a grin she sat up and reached for her latest book- Moby Dick, and he dropped a kiss to her head and left her to it. He made his way into the kitchen, cleared the dishes and then grabbed a beer his attention turning to the table which was had clear, the other half scattered with the parts from one of the engines he had been working on. He knew he really shouldn’t bring this home with him but sometimes it was just easier.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, glancing down at the unknown number.

“Hi Mr Adler, just a courtesy message to remind you of Mary’s lesson tomorrow at One. If you can’t make it please let me know ASAP so I can offer the slot to someone else. Otherwise see you then. Regards, Fliss.” Frank smiled, like he would have chance to forget. Mary had talked of nothing else since Saturday. His fingers hovered over the reply button, before he dropped the phone back down. He didn’t need to reply…did he? I mean…

Oh fuck it. What was a bit of harmless flirting? He picked the phone back up and tapped in a quick response.

“Like I’d have chance to forget. She’s been like a broken record since Wednesday. I had to pry her

boots off tonight as she was threatening to wear them in bed.” Setting the phone down he headed back through to check on Mary, her 15 minutes was over. He found her fast asleep, book clutched to her chest. Gently taking it from her, he slipped the bookmark into the page and turned off the lights, making sure she was tucked in. When he moved back into the main part of the trailer he had a reply.

“Brilliant! That’s what I like to hear. Get used to it, you’re going to hear about nothing but horses now for the rest of your life.” “Great, I can’t wait…” he set his Nokia down, not really having a smarter response to that, so he gathered a few pieces of the engine, setting to work. About five minutes passed and his phone went again.

“You know I offer starter lessons for adults too, maybe you should try it, see if you understand what the fuss is all about.” “No thanks, my feet stay firmly on the ground. Unless I’m on a boat.” “A boat? I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor?” At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’m not, not really. I fix them. And besides, you don’t sail speedboats.” “What do you do then?”

“You drive them.”

“Do you drive them on water?” “Dur.” “That’s called Sailing.”

His work abandoned, he took a pull from his beer bottle and shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he replied.

“But they don’t have sails…” “It’s a boat. It goes on water. It’s called Sailing.” “Alright, I bow to your superior knowledge…” “Glad we agree…even if I do detect a serious underlying tone of sarcasm in your message. See you tomorrow Sailor.” He laughed again, shaking his head. He tapped in a goodnight and placed the phone down, turning his attention to his work.

***** “What are you grinning about?” Bill Gallagher looked at his daughter as they walked across the field, Thor and his own dog, Rupert, hurtling ahead in front of them, their flashing collars keeping them located in the twilight.

“Oh, nothing, just winding someone up.” she smiled “One of the dad’s from tomorrow’s lesson, trying to convince me you drive, not sail, a speedboat.” “Hmmm…well they don’t have sails.” Bill mused.

“Whatever, they go on water, they sail.” Fliss shrugged, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Frank’s ‘Goodnight’ rounded off their conversation.

“So, who is he then?” Bill asked.

“Oh, his name’s Frank.” Fliss replied, nonchalantly, but her dad didn’t miss the flicker of a smile that hit her mouth.

“Is he the one that your mum said was eyeing you up in the bar?” “He was not eyeing me up.” Fliss groaned “He was just being friendly.” “Sure he was.” “Dad.” she warned him, nudging him with her elbow.

“What?” “You know what!” she laughed “Stop it.” “Alright.” he smiled, holding his hands up “I yield, it’s just nice to see you happy, that’s all.” “Well, I am.” she said after a moment, and she meant it “The last six months the riding school has taken off, I’m feeling more, well, myself than I have in years. Just need to find an apartment now.” “Well, on that.” Bill looked at her. “Me and your mum have been thinking. We thought, maybe, you might want to move into the annex. We can do it up, gives you your own space…”

Fliss paused walking and turned to her dad. “That’s where Steeby stays though, when he comes out with Sian and the kids.” “There’s plenty of room in the house.” Bill shrugged “And they come like what, four times a year? It’s stood empty the rest of the time.” Fliss bit her lip.

“It’s just an idea and your brother won’t mind. Look, I know it’s probably not what you had in mind, living in your parent’s annex but for the time being until the Yard starts to turn over more of a profit we just thought it might give you a little bit more freedom.” “Whilst still staying close.”

“I want to keep you safe Titch.” Bill shrugged “I didn’t do that before but,” “Dad don’t.” Fliss shook her head “None of that, it wasn’t your fault. I hid from everyone what was happening…you didn’t know.”

“I should have.” he sighed “You’re my daughter.” “He had everyone fooled, including me. This is no one’s fault but his, I get that now.” Bill smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

“We should head back.” Fliss smiled, pulling away. “Mum will be wondering where we are.”

“You have anything to finish off?” he asked

“Nope, everything is out for the night and looks reasonably settled.” she squinted at the various horses dotted across her land.

“Hmmm, unlike this fencing.” Bill frowned, examining the broken bit of post and rail that Fliss had patched up with electric tape “This could do with replacing, love.” “Yeah, I know.” she shrugged “I was going to mention it but forgot. The temporary fix has worked for the time being.” “I’ll stop by and do it tomorrow.” he nodded, “Won’t take me long. I’ll level that top field as well whilst I’m at it if you want.” “Thanks Dad” she smiled. In comfortable silence they made their way back towards the main part of the yard. *******

Fliss grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in her office and took a long drink. The heat was pretty intense today, and she was just wondering if really holding Mary’s lesson as advisable when she realised it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything too strenuous. She adjusted her baseball cap and walked back onto the yard, shouting instructions to the three members of staff to go and take a water break. Just as they were passing her towards the office, she saw Frank and Mary walking onto the yard. Mary was sporting a new riding hat and Fliss couldn’t help but smile.

“Well check you out!” she said, tapping the little girl on the head “Nice hat.” “I liked the silver on it!” Mary grinned, pointing to the sparkly strip that ran along the front.

“Me too.” Fliss nodded. “I have the same hat but mine has blue sparkles.” she straightened up and looked at Frank. “Hey Sailor.” He gave a snort of a laugh “I told you, you don’t sail speedboats.” “They go on water.” Mary said, “Its’ sailing.” “Ha, see!” Fliss laughed

Frank sighed “Whatever.” The corners of his mouth turned up and he handed Fliss the forms he had brought back.

“Oh great…” she thanked him “I’ll just file these and then Ruby will get Monty ready. I thought you might like to help her.” Mary nodded eagerly. Fliss excused herself and Frank heard her shouting something and a moment later a tall, wirey Hispanic girl emerged from the office with a saddle. Fliss followed, bridle slung over her shoulder and gestured for Mary to follow. Frank watched as the girl skipped off following and headed after her at a slower pace, rubbing at his neck which felt like it was burning. He’d slathered Mary in sunscreen before but of course had forgotten his own.

He stepped into the relative cool of the barn and watched as the stable hand was explaining to Mary what each piece of tack was as she began to place it onto the pony. He knew Mary would be taking all of this in, just like she did with everything, and Roberta would be hearing all about it later on.

Fliss handed over the bridle and stepped back, heading towards Frank. “I normally do have the ponies ready” she said, almost apologetically “But I thought she’d enjoy this bit.” “You thought right.” Frank laughed “I was just thinking to myself she’ll be chewing our neighbour’s ear off later.”

Fliss smiled and they both stood in silence watching until the other girl said they were ready.

“Alright, let’s go!” Fliss grinned and they walked out into the yard. She took the pony from her staff member with a thanks, and walked with Mary following into the riding paddock. Frank leaned on the fencing outside as Fliss led Mary and Monty over to the wooden mounting block at the side.

“Ok, so…” she turned to Mary and patted the top step “Climb up here…” Mary hopped up.

“Left foot in this stirrup,” she instructed. Mary placed her foot in. “Left hand here,” she guided it to the front of the saddle, “and then I want you to swing your right leg over.” Mary did as she was told, sitting down on the saddle.

“Good stuff kiddo!” Fliss smiled as she checked the stirrups “Ok, so we need to put these up a hole so…”

She busied herself shortening the stirrup leathers, and eventually when she was happy she nodded.

“So, what we’re gonna do for today is a bit of walking around, and stopping, and then if you’re happy with your balance we can try a bit of trot ok?” Mary grinned.

“Right…so take your reins…” Fliss showed her how to hold the reins correctly, and then she slipped the lunge line through the ponies bit and looked at the girl. “If you feel wobbly or anything you grab this…” she said, gesturing to the leather strap around the pony’s neck. “And shout to me ok?”

Mary nodded.

Fliss began to walk besides the pony who followed her like a dog. Mary all the time concentrating on what she was doing. Fliss explained to her how her legs made the animal go, and how to make it stop, and they practiced that for five minutes before Fliss moved slightly further away to let Mary take a bit of control, instructing her to go, then stop, go, then stop…

Frank watched intently. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous about Mary falling off but he knew that he had to let her discover all this for herself. He leaned further over on the fence, watching and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Mary’s face, she was concentrating so hard her brow was furrowed, tongue poking out from the side of her mouth.

“Your kid?” a deep voice with a similar accent to Fliss said and he turned to his right to see a tall, stocky guy in his sixties, maybe, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans looking at him.

“Neice.” he nodded, “First lesson.” “Ahh...” the man chuckled “Yeah I remember Fliss’ first lesson. I crapped myself.” Frank let out a laugh “Yeah, I’m a little nervous.” “Bill Gallagher” The man stuck his hand out “Fliss’ dad.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Frank.” Bill looked at him, nodding before his attention turned to the paddock “Hey, Titch, sorry to interrupt…” Fliss stopped the pony and turned to her dad “Hey.” “Fencing is done but I can’t get that bloody tractor started, so the field’s gonna have to wait.” “I can look at it.” Frank offered immediately “I mean, if you want.” Bill turned to him, “You a mechanic?” “No he’s a sailor.” Fliss shot back and Frank rolled his eyes.

“I fix boats. Engines, that type of thing.” “Huh.” Bill nodded appraisingly. “Well if you wouldn’t mind…” “Not a problem. Mary you okay here if I go for a minute?” Mary looked at him “Dur.” Bill let out a chuckle as Frank turned to him “Tell me raising them gets easier.” “Oh no mate.” Bill shook his head, grinning “You just get different shit to deal with.” Frank followed the man round to the back of the barn and spotted a dark green baby tractor. Bill explained what it was doing and Frank crouched closer to have a look before he headed to his truck for the jump leads.

After ten minutes or so he’d found the problem. They could start it, but it wasn’t holding any charge. Meaning when the turned the engine off it needed jump starting again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the alternator.” he chewed his lip, stepping back “I’ll need to strip it down to see whether I can repair it or if it needs a new one but we can get it started again you can do what you need to do for today.”

Bill nodded “So not quite ready for the scrap heap?” “Not quite.” Frank smiled, wiping his hands on his jeans “Just needs a bit of a fiddle with.” “Don’t we all?” Bill quipped, making Frank laugh. They jump started it again and Bill thanked him before hopping on and heading over to the gate that led to the field.

By the time Frank returned, he was surprised to see that Mary was now riding the pony almost unaided in a circle around Fliss who was holding the end of the line attached to the Monty’s bridle as it trotted around. Mary was gripping the strap round the pony’s neck and trying to rise in time to the trot. It was clumsy and she was a little bit out of balance but that didn’t matter. He could hear Fliss shouting gentle encouragement to her, counting out the rhythm and eventually Mary fell in time with her counts.

“Good!” Fliss beamed “see, I told you you’d get it…” This continued for another 5 minutes or so before Fliss told Mary to slow Monty down to a walk and give him a good pat. They walked the pony around for a while, to give him chance to cool down a little before Fliss walked towards Mary gathering up the line as she went.

“That was awesome for a first go!” she said, smiling “Did you enjoy it?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, it was really cool!”

“Good!” Fliss said. “Now I’m gonna unclip the line and walk around for a bit. He’ll follow me but when I stop I want you to stop him yeah?”

Mary nodded eagerly and she unclipped the line and began to walk. Fliss knew Monty would stop when she did but she wanted to let Mary have a go anyway. They did a lap of the paddock and on the second she stopped by Frank.

“Look, Frank!” Mary smiled “I’m not on the line.” “Yeah, I see!” he smiled at her “Good job!”

“How’s my tractor?” Fliss asked.

“Think it’s the alternator. We got it started for your dad but I’ll need to strip it down properly…I can come back tomorrow and sort it properly if you want?” “Oh, I don’t wanna put you out.” Fliss started to protest but Frank shook his head

“It’s no bother, honestly.” he ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t promise I can fix it but I’ll be able to see if I can or if you need a new one.” Fliss looked at him and then nodded “Alright, but in that case today is free.” “No, that’s not why I offered.” Frank began to protest but Fliss shook her head

“I know.” she smiled that damned gorgeous smile again, and Frank felt his stomach flip. “But I’d like to.” Frank looked at her for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto his and he swallowed, nodding. “Ok, thanks.” “Wait am I coming back tomorrow?” Mary asked

“I’m booked up, sorry sweetie.” Fliss looked at her “But you’re welcome to come anyway, that is if Frank says its okay. You can always give Monty a groom.” “We’ll see. “Frank looked at Mary.

“I can put her to work.” Fliss said, grinning “Nothing like a bit of child labour.” “That’s illegal.” Mary said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Fliss looked at her and Frank gave a chuckle.

They made their way out of the paddock and Fliss showed Mary how to swing her leg back round the saddle and slide down. She landed on her feet and took the reins from Fliss’ hand, leading the pony back to his stable. She helped untack and then Fliss handed her the bridle to carry. They walked into the office and Fliss tapped a code into the door to the left and led them into a tidy tack room, rows of saddles and racks adorned the wall along with bridle pegs and a few shelves full of rugs and blankets for the horses. Fliss slipped the saddle onto a spare rack and then directed Mary to Monty’s bridle peg. Frank took the bridle from her as the peg was a little high and hooked it over.

“Now, you need a drink.” Fliss looked at Mary “I got water or some apple juice.”

 “Apple please.”  Mary said. Fliss nodded and headed back into the office, giving her a juice box from the fridge “Frank?”

“Oh, errr, water would be great thanks.” She handed him a bottle and he screwed off the tap.

“So, do you want to book in again now or do it tomorrow?” Fliss looked at him. “I think she’ll cope on the group lesson fine.” “So when do they run?”  Frank asked, swallowing his water.

“Saturday afternoons at two.” Fliss said. “Or Wednesday at six.” “Can we come Saturday?” Mary asked.

Frank hesitated “I did say you couldn’t do this every week.” “Yeah but you didn’t pay for today.” Mary shot back.

Jesus Christ

He glanced up at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Fine, you can come this Saturday but then that’s it, we go to every other week like we agreed, okay?” Mary nodded.

“Settled, I’ll book you in.” Fliss grinned. “If you get here about quarter to I’ll introduce you to the other girls before you join.” Mary frowned a little, before she recovered and nodded. “Okay.” “So do you like work here every day?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded

“Mostly. If I want a day off then I get Joanne to cover the lessons and the girls can open and close up.” she said “But it’s few and far between. Like I said, still in the early days so…”

Frank nodded “Yeah I know what it’s like, trying to get yourself established.” “I take it you’re a self-employed sailor then?” Fliss smiled and he gave a grin back and nodded.

“He takes me for rides.” Mary said “In the boats sometimes.” “That’s really cool. I’ve never been on speedboat.” Fliss mused.

“You should come with us one day, right Frank?”

Frank hesitated a little, surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with dread at the idea of her joining them.

“I’m sure Fliss has enough to be doing without you demanding more of her time.” he shot the girl a look, his tone even.

“Yeah, I’m very busy.” Fliss smiled, offering him a way out. He shot her a thankful look.

“We can do it when you’re free…” “Mary!” Frank’s tone was exasperated as Fliss laughed.

“Maybe one day.” she said, nodding.

This placated the girl somewhat and she bounced off towards the truck.

“Sorry.” Frank turned to Fliss “She can be a little bit…” “Tenacious?” “I was gonna say a pain in the ass.” Frank shrugged, causing Fliss to laugh, her soft chuckles made him feel a little warm, or maybe it was the afternoon heat…

“She’s a good kid.” Fliss said gently.

Frank smiled and then jerked his head in the direction of the car park “I better…” “Sure.”

“I’ll drop you a message about tomorrow?” Fliss nodded “Yeah, but don’t put yourself out.” “Well I owe you now for the lesson so…” he shrugged “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, guess you will.” Fliss smiled. There was a pause again and Frank nodded, before he turned and headed after Mary. He turned to look over his shoulder at Fliss who was now walking back towards her office before he wandered onto the car park to find Mary was now chewing Bill’s ear off.

“For the love of God.” he mumbled as he drew nearer to find her mid discussion with the man about the Olympics.

“Did you go?” she was asking.

“You bet!” Bill smiled “I’ll tell you something else as well…” “What?” “Those fences are even bigger in real life than they look on the photos.” “It said on the internet she jumped One meter forty!”

“The internet?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, we googled her.” Frank groaned “Mary.” “What?” she looked at him. “I was just saying…” “Well don’t.” He said, “Truck, now…”

“It was nice to meet you Mary.” Bill smiled as the little girl bid him goodbye.

“Sorry.” Frank apologised to him.

“Don’t be silly.” Bill waved his apology off. “She wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I meant about the google thing.” Frank sighed. “We weren’t prying, she was just curious after seeing the medal and…” Bill shook his head “Kids are nosey.” he shrugged.

With another nod he climbed in the truck and turned to Mary with a sigh “What did I say to you about not telling Miss Gallagher we googled her?” “I didn’t.” Mary said “I told her dad.”

There was a pause as Frank contemplated what she had said, and realised technically she was right. He should have closed that particular loop hole. “Smart ass.” He grumbled back, before he clipped in her belt and they left.

***** Fliss was surprised to see Mary wasn’t with Frank the next day. Frank explained he had come straight from the boat yard so she was busy doing some lesson work with their neighbour. “Gives me chance to work without her continually running around causing a nuisance.” he had explained, setting his tools down by the tractor.

Fliss chuckled, “Ok, well, I got another client due in a second so just give me a shout if you need anything.” He nodded. It didn’t take him long to realise he had been right. It was the alternator. He took the engine apart and was leaning over it on the flat bed of his truck when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Fliss.

“It is the alternator, but it looks like it’s the brushes inside.” he said, “I can fix this.” She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, and he frowned at the look on her face. She’d glazed over in front of him, eyes were widened, almost like she was stuck in a memory.

And she was. Something about the fact he’d been leaning over the back of a truck, his grubby t-shirt riding up slightly, dirt on his hands and arms had stirred a really inappropriate thought in her head…which in turn had triggered another flashback.

“He was fixing the car.” Fliss looked at John “I offered him a drink, that’s all…” “He was in our kitchen.” John advanced “I saw you looking at him. Admiring him…” “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t LIE TO ME!” John’s voice as loud and then there was a stinging slap to the side of her face, which sent her reeling. As she recovered, the ringing in her ear still loud from the blow, she gently reached up to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes. John’s face was immediately apologetic, and he reached out for her, causing her to shrink back against the counter.

“You hit me.” she gasped.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry.” John stuttered, his eyes filing with tears “I didn’t, you just made me so jealous…I…” He held his arms out and pulled her to him, his hands on her back as he dropped a kiss to her head “I will never do that again, I’m sorry…” “Fliss?”

She started slightly and looked at Frank. “Yeah, sorry, I was…” “Miles away?” he frowned.

“Something like that.” she nodded, shaking her head “Sorry, you said you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” he said “I can take it with me and then I can bring it back Saturday unless you need it before that?”

“No, Saturday’s fine.” she said gently.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” she spoke quickly. “Look, I gotta get on and…” “Sure.” he nodded, “I should be going anyway…” She smiled at him, and turned and headed back to the yard.

****

“You clearly triggered something.” Roberta said to Frank wisely as they both sat in his living room later that evening. He’d just finished telling her about the afternoon. “Some kind of memory.”

Frank hmmed his response. “Question is why are you so bothered?” Roberta asked.

“I’m not, I just, well it wasn’t nice to see. She looked so scared.” “Well you said her husband was sent down for assaulting her.” Roberta shrugged “She’s clearly had a lot of trauma. Maybe she just needs a friend.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“Could be good for both of you.” “I know what you’re doing.” Frank looked at her sternly

“I’m not trying to do anything!” Roberta chuckled

“Course you’re not.” he rolled his eyes before he changed the subject.

It wasn’t until he was alone later, that he pulled his phone out to text Fliss. He’d typed out his message, just a perfectly innocent one to check she was okay before he deleted it, shaking his head.

Whatever it was, it really was none of his business. He had enough of his own past demons to live with as it was.

But the more he lay there the more it wound him up. And he couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbled, before he retyped the message and sent it.

**** Fliss was curled up on the sofa watching TV. Her parents were out for the evening so she was making the most of enjoying the space. Her phone went and she leaned over to grab it from the coffee table, unable to stop smiling as she saw who it was from.

“Hey, just wanted to check you were ok after before. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything that upset or scared you.” The last line made her heart sink. He clearly knew about her past. Her dad had mentioned something about them googling her, and the case had been fairly big news amongst the equestrian circuit so she knew that the story was out there to read. Well, most of it was anyway. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking of how to respond. She hated that even after almost a year of him being out of her life John was till effectively a shadow she couldn’t seem to emerge from.

“It’s not your fault. I get flashbacks sometimes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well the past has a way of doing that. Trust me, I know.”

Fliss smiled gently as she tapped out her response. “Yeah, what is it Rafiki says on the Lion King? You can either run from your past or learn from it?”

Little over thirty seconds later he responded.

“Sound advice from a cartoon monkey…not always that easy in real life. If you ever want a non-judgmental ear to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener if you fancy a beer and a chat. Just as friends.” There was just something about this man, something that Fliss couldn’t help but warm to. She wasn’t stupid, the girls at the yard had told her a bit about him, his reputation amongst the ladies…he was a bit of a player from all accounts, but there was something there, something buried deeper, she could just tell. And what’s more, for the first time in years, she felt like she could trust another person other than her family.

It was for that reason she found it so easy to almost, sort of, maybe, possibly accept his invitation.

“I might just hold you to that Sailor.”

**** Chapter 3

[babygirlwolverine]

Destiel + Dinner Date Night. Requested by @galaxymysteryelephant!

"Just, please Sammy? Take Jack out for tonight and do… something. I don't even care what. I just want to surprise Cas," Dean said, shoving at Sam's shoulders and pushing him towards Jack's bedroom.

"What are you planning?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Dean shoved Sam playfully again. "Dinner. I want to cook for him and have a date night at home without you and Jack interrupting or third and fourth wheeling us."

Turning with a grin, Sam put his hands up in defeat. "Alright, I'll take Jack out for burgers. Just make sure to give me a heads up if you're getting laid, because if I have to hear you shouting Cas' name again-"

"Get out of here, bitch," Dean grumbled, even though he was grinning remembering the last time Cas had thrown him down against the mattress. 

Twenty minutes later, the Bunker was empty and Dean made his way to the kitchen. T-minus two hours until Cas was back from Heaven. Throwing on some Zeppelin, Dean  got to work. Grabbing some beef, potatoes, and some vegetables, Dean slowly began to piece together a Shepherd's pie. 

While the Shepherd's pie was in the oven, Dean grabbed out some fresh strawberries and pie crust, humming along to his favorite Zepp tracks as he filled the crust and slipped it into the oven.

Just as Dean was cleaning the kitchen and setting plates out, he heard the distinct flap of wings and suddenly Cas was behind him, lips against his neck.

"Hello, Dean," Cas murmured, nosing along the nape of Dean's neck.

Turning around, Dean chased Cas' mouth, kissing him until they were both breathless. Leaning their foreheads together, Dean breathed out a tender, "Hey."

"What was that for?" Cas asked, pressing his smile to the corner of Dean's mouth. 

"Nothing, just missed you," Dean replied, nudging his nose against Cas', which earned him a happy hum from the angel.

"What smells so good?" Cas asked, peaking over Dean's shoulder.

"Nope, no looking. It's a surprise. A uh, a little dinner date night. Sam took Jack out for the evening, so it's just us. I thought we could have an evening to ourselves."

An endearing little smile crossed Cas' face, and he closed the space to kiss Dean, long and slow. "I like the sound of that," Cas said, mumbling the words against Dean's mouth.

Dean chuckled. "Good. Now give me fifteen minutes. I'll come find you?"

Cas nodded, pressing another quick kiss to Dean's jaw, just because he could, before slipping out of the kitchen. 

Fifteen minutes later, Dean found Cas in the library, a book spread out in front of him. "Dinner's ready, if you'd care to join me?" Dean asked.

"Always, Dean," Cas replied, closing his book and taking Dean's hand.

Dean walked them to the kitchen and Cas froze in the doorway. The table was set with two plates of steaming food. Several candles were lit and placed on the table, creating a soft glow that caught the wine glasses filled with red wine in the perfect light. A pie sat on the counter, creating a heavenly aroma that filled the room.

"Is this okay?" Dean asked carefully.

Cas beamed, tightening his hold on Dean’s wrist. "It's perfect."

Together they walked to the table, sitting on opposite sides. Cas instantly reached out with one hand, slotting their hands together and tangling their fingers. He traced his thumb over the back of Dean's hand as they began to eat their Shepherd's pie.

"Thank you. For this dinner date. For cooking us a great dinner," Cas said a little while later, diverting from their casual conversation by bringing Dean's hand up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles. 

Dean flushed, tugging Cas up and leaning across the table to pull the angel into a deep kiss. "Pie?" he asked against Cas' mouth when they broke apart.

Laughing brightly, Cas pressed another kiss to Dean's lips in response. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Dean replied, pressing their foreheads together for a few lingering seconds before getting up and cutting them both a slice of pie and grabbing two bottles of beer.

This time Dean sat down next to Cas, trailing his free hand up and down Cas' thigh as they ate their pie and traded kisses until Sam and Jack got home.

Tag List Below:

Tag List: @curly-cue-scamp @hello-x-sunshine @bibelphegor @piesexual-dean @likepurplemuses @expectingtofly @neo-neo-neo @shadowywerewolfqueen @a-sweet-indisposition @feraladoration @xojo @oganizediguana @paintdriesfaster @adsp-destielcockles @destielangst

@cillitbang-me @justa-crayon @dea-stiel @superduckbatrebel @destielfactory @miluiel-erynion @superwholockbby @cockleslovesdestiel @toxic-nebula @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @enchantinghairdoherringwombat @proudace @galaxymysteryelephant @aelysianmuse @simpforsamwinchester

@feeddoughnut @gmotheemo @deansotherotherblog @horsez2 @geo-val @dizzypinwheel @hermionevaldez9 @poeticzebra @iamsherlockedondoctorwho @dickspeightjrs @imbiowaresbitch @destielle @hopefuldreamers-world @organicpurplepants @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you

@shut-up-dean @sapphirecobalt-1 @eshaninjer @spnobsessed50

If you’re enjoying my writing and you’d like to be tagged in any of my future destiel creations, please message me or comment and let me know and I’ll add you to the list (or remove you if you’d prefer)!

[skzsauce01]

love you to limx

Anniversary Request Special

Description: Jisung’s secret crush on his childhood friend, you, might not be so secret after all, especially when your tutee starts laying moves on you right in front of his iced americano.

Warning: none!

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung

“Y/N?” Jisung calls out as soon as you walk past the library doors.

You smile and wave to him while flashing your ID card for the person at the front desk. He waves you over so you go to him.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d make some extra money this semester, so I signed up to tutor underclassmen during this hour.”

You let out a gasp. “Same!”

“What are the odds?” he chuckles, feigning surprise. It isn’t like he bribed Chan, the head of the program, to tell him what time slot you signed up for, nor is it like he fought Hyunjin tooth and nail for this time either. The only reason why you and him are at the same place on a Wednesday afternoon is pure coincidence. Really.

You pull out the seat in front of his and take a seat. “I wonder who’s going to show up,” you ponder mindlessly.

“Someone who needs help with not math, I hope,” he mutters in reply.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you laugh. “There’s a reason why they ask you whether you’re in liberal arts or STEM on the application.”

“Ahh, right,” he blushes and distracts himself with his backpack. After a few seconds of digging, he realizes a new problem.

“Oh, shoot,” he mutters.

“What’s up?”

“I left my pencil case at my apartment!” he panics with wide eyes.

“Honestly, Jisung. You’re supposed to set an example for the underclassmen!” you tch, harshly pushing your pouch between you two to share.

“Thanks, Y/N~” he sings, choosing a pen. This one is bunny capped, how cute.

At that moment, a new voice interrupts,“Excuse me, is this the SKZ tutoring club?” 

You smile at him and shift the organization’s logo for better visibility. “Yes! I’m L/N Y/N. And you are?”

Jisung’s jaw drops when he recognizes the boy.

“Yang Jeongin,” he replies, “and I desperately need help with calculus.”

He takes a seat besides you while smirking at the other male. Jisung knows this kid. He knows him alright; he’s best friends with his housemate and scheming math wiz, Kim Seungmin. The fact that he is here now sending snide looks at him cannot be good.

“Don’t worry; limits can be tricky,” you reassure him, unaware of the tension between the two. “You’ll get a hang of it in no time though.”

“Thanks,” breathes Jeongin innocently. “I’m counting on you, noona.”

“‘Noona?’” you giggle. 

Jisung grits his teeth.

The hour goes by rather uneventfully other than the few times Jisung nearly screamed when Jeongin gets something he was “struggling” with before and your whole face lights up as you compliment him. A student came over with a question for Jisung too, but that only took twenty minutes of his hour. Besides that, he just sat with his head on the table, getting lost in your focused eyes and waiting for Jeongin to leave-- he means, for time to pass by.

Unlike the boy who came for Jisung, Jeongin’s session with you lasts the entire hour. Finally, when the clock strikes five, you two begin packing up your things.

“Thank you so much! I think I finally get it now!” Jeongin bows slightly.

“You’re doing great! Just have a little more confidence in your work, and if you ever get stuck again, SKZ tutoring is here to help.”

“I’ll be sure to come back during this time then. You were so clear and easy to understand.”

Yada yada yada. Save it and leave, Jisung wills while glaring daggers at his junior.

Jeongin doesn’t seem to notice or care as he leisurely zips up his backpack. Even worse, he insists on walking you to the door before you two finally wave goodbye.

“Finally,” Jisung mumbles when the boy at last walks away.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he hums. “Anyway, want to get ice cream to celebrate our first day at work?”

“With what money?” you joke. 

Jisung scoffs. “Come on, I’ll buy if it’s such a big deal.”

“No. That’ll make me feel bad,” you pout.

“It’s fine. Think of it as thanks for lending me a pen,” he suggests, walking towards the shop. “Mint chip?”

“How’d you know?” you chuckle, clutching on to his arm to optimize your puppy-look angle. He is buying after all.

Jisung nearly goes into cardiac arrest the second he feels your fingers around his sleeves. It takes him a moment before he’s able to reply, “You’ve liked that toothpaste ice cream since you were five.”

“Hey! It’s not toothpaste flavored!”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you. You’re smiling. He loves it when you do that, especially when it crinkles the corner of your eyes. You’re doing that now, but not when you were with Jeongin, he recalls to console himself. That’s right; this smile is exclusive to him, your childhood bestie, only. 

Before long, you two are seated on some questionable bench behind the statue of your school’s legendary football coach with frozen treats in hand.

“--and now I have to wait for her to finish that before I can even get started on the powerpoint.”

Jisung lets out a sympathetic hum before eyeing your ice cream. “Ah,” he says, pointing to his mouth.

You groan. “Why do you insult my ice cream then ask for some every time? Just get mint chip yourself if you like it so bad.”

“Hey, I paid,” he reminds you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You scoop some ice cream with your spoon and place it in front of his lips, and he opens obediently before clamping his lips over it to get all the ice cream from the dip of the spoon.

He then watches as you thoughtlessly scoop more of the treat and place it into your own mouth while continuing your story. Jisung turns away because of a creeping blush when you complete the indirect kiss. So what if he’s been tricking you into doing this since forever? He’ll still never get used to it; not unless he gets to try the real thing, at least.

After ice cream, you decide to head home to get in some studying. Jisung heads towards his own complex with feather-like steps. That is, until he opens his front door and sees what-- or rather, who-- is inside.

“Yang Jeongin?”

“Oh, hey, Hyung!” he chirps, not looking up from his game with Jisung’s housemates.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung demands.

“Relax,” sighs Seungmin. “We invited him cause we needed another player and you were too busy with your date.”

“S-she-- I-- It was not a date!”

“Oh really?” Hyunjin challenges.

“Oh really?” Jeongin piques hopefully.

For some reason, Jeongin irks him more despite Hyunjin being the one trying to purposely annoy him.

“Well, I-- uh--”

“You’re blushing,” Seungmin says without even looking up.

Jisung lets out a strangled noise and slams his room’s door behind him.

For the next few weeks, Jeongin shows up at tutoring a handful of times, each time annoying Jisung more than the last. His favourite days though are not only Jeongin free but tutee free all together because one, he gets paid for just sitting there and two, you.

Today, to his fortune, is one of those days. You lay with your head rested on an arm that’s stretched out in front of you on the table, invading Jisung’s area. He doesn’t mind though, mindlessly playing with your fingers and sipping iced americano.

“I seriously need a tutor myself,” you lament aloud. “That chem midterm is going to kill me on Tuesday.”

“Oh, come on. You still pass every time you say that.”

“But still,” you gasp dramatically.

Jisung rolls his eyes with a smile. “Well, if all else fails, you can still fall back on your education minor and become a teacher. You’re pretty good at that from what I see.”

“You really think so?” you squeak.

He nods.

“That’s only because all my students are so talented themselves. I mean, the only ones who come to tutoring are self motivated kids. Especially Jeongin.”

There his name is again. Jisung doesn’t respond and instead breaks the lead of his pencil against the paper. The motion shakes his hand which accidentally tips his coffee forward, covering the front of your t-shirt in brown.

“D-do you really like him that much?” Jisung stutters.

“Is that important right now?” you exclaim, quickly repositioning the beverage.

Your voice snaps Jisung back into reality, and he apologizes and digs in his backpack for tissues. Minutes later, the mess on the table is thankfully cleaned up before anything leaked to the ground. This means there is only one problem left: your clothes.

“I’m sorry…” Jisung apologizes for the hundredth time.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “I’ll just see how much I can clean off in the restroom and sit here for another” --you check your phone-- “twenty minutes. It’s pretty quiet today anyway, so it should be fine.”

“But you have to walk home for another fifteen minute after. Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”

“Well I don’t have another shirt, so…” You bring your hands up and shrug your shoulders.

“Here,” Jisung offers, taking off his hoodie. “Just put this on. It should be better than a wet sticky shirt.”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes.

“It’s clean! Jeez!”

“I’m just teasing,” you joke, gratefully taking his sweater and promising to be quick in the restroom.

When you returned, Jisung was not ready for what he saw. Sure, he isn’t of large stature himself, but he likes his clothes loose, especially his hoodies, so with it on you, you exuberate hug-ability potential.

“Thanks again for the clothes,” you say as you sit down. You bat your sweater paw around a few times before grabbing your pen, trying to find your hand from under there.

Jisung coughs something incoherent while draining the rest of his beverage.

You two sit quietly as you work on your own things while waiting for students to show up. Jisung can’t stop peeking over his books at you though. That is until he shows up again, right as the two of you are about to pack up.

“Noona!”

“Jeongin!” you return, recognizing the voice. 

He slides into the seat besides you and Jisung reopens his book to duck his head behind.

“You look so cute in that sweater!” he compliments.

Jisung bites his thumb. He wanted to say that!

“I’m older than you, you rascal,” you scold though obviously pleased.

“Age doesn’t have anything to do with the truth,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and lightly swat his shoulder.

“So, did you have a quick question?”

“Actually, I just came here to show you this!” The boy whips out some papers from his bag and hands it to you.

At first, you are silent. Jisung comes out from behind his wall to see what has gotten you so quiet. Then you stammer out, “O-oh my. Oh my! Jeongin, you did it! You got an A on your midterm!”

Disregarding your surroundings, you throw your arms over the boy. 

“It’s all thanks to you,” he strangles out from under your embrace.

And then Jisung sees it. He sees it, the smile on your face as you pull away. The smile that crinkles your eyes. Before he can say anything though, Jeongin beats him to it.

“I also came here to ask you something.”

“What is it?” 

“Well I know we have kind of a teacher-student relationship…”

You nod, prompting him to go on. 

“But even so, you’re so patient and caring and smart that I can’t help but ask. Will you go out with me?”

“NO!” 

The entire library turns towards Jisung after he slammed down his book in exclamation. He feels heat rising to his face as he looks around and sees all the eyes on him. He slides his foot half a step back, papers crinkling under the grip of his fingers, before he dashes out of the building without another word.

“Jisung!” he hears you call after him.

He runs and runs until he can’t anymore without even seeing where he is going. Once he finally stops to catch his breath, he realizes he is in front of the football coach statue. He has many memories with you here at this place; not only is it your favourite place to hang out, it’s also where you both opened your college acceptance letters at the same time, promised to be best friends forever as kids, and gazed at the stars whenever someone was feeling down. It’s also where he first realized he is in love with you.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Jisung looks up and you toss his backpack at him.

“I’m sorry for making a scene back there,” he mumbles.

You either don’t hear him or don’t care, for you sit down at the bench and wave him over.

He defies your wishes and stands in front of you, head down and looking dejected.

“Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

“Why would I be with someone else when my best friend is upset?”

Best friend. Is that all he’ll ever be to you?

“Well I’m okay, so just go.”

“No, you’re clearly not,” you object, taking his hand and pulling him next to you. “So tell me, what’s wrong? Do you not like Jeongin?”

It’s not like he dislikes Jeongin. The younger male is cute and funny, which is all the more reason Jisung hates him.

“No…” he admits quietly.

“Then why are you so upset?”

Jisung can feel his nails through his jeans as you press his head against your chest comfortingly. He’s about to explode; how can you play with his heart like this?

“Fine, you want to know why? It’s because I like you, that’s why! I like you and I don’t like it when other guys take you away especially when they’re tall and handsome and--”

You shut him up by pressing your lips against his cheeks. He turns to you with eyes as wide as discs.

“I didn’t accept his confession,” you tell him. “You wanna know why?”

“B-because of my outburst?” he mumbles incoherently.

“No, because I like you too, Jisung. And only you.”

“Y-you’re lying. Is this a prank? Are there cameras--”

“I’m not lying,” you promise, holding his arms down when they start flailing around in excitement.

“Well then, I think you missed my lips earlier,” he pouts.

“Oh, you cheeky little--”

He cuts you off this time by swooping in and holding you against him.

“Finally!” 

The two of you break apart when you hear the voice. 

“Jeongin?” you call, recognizing it.

A sheepish boy steps out from behind a tree followed by a few of his friends.

“Seungmin? Hyunjin?” Jisung gasps. “What is this?”

The trio look at each other before Seungmin speaks up. “We got tired of you two dancing around each other and not expressing your feelings, so we decided to expedite some things.”

“You mean--” Jisung points at Jeongin.

“Yep. I was all a ploy to get you to break,” he admits.

“For three months?” you exclaim.

“I think you mean, ‘thank you,’” Hyunjin interjects.

You turn towards Jisung. “I have a feeling we’ll be third, fourth, and fifth wheeled a lot.”

“Then let’s make them go away on their own accord,” Jisung smirks. He leans down and locks your lips into another kiss while dramatically tangling your limbs together.

“Okay, ew, bye.” The three yelp and scramble to get away from the scene, making Jisung snicker.

“Shush,” you scold, tugging on his collar with your sweater paws.

Oh, Jisung will shush alright, and he’ll make sure you do too for a good long while.

~ ad.gold

A/N: Thanks for your (actual) request! Hopefully this brings you back to campus during this shut down. #Pappy Waldorf

[vegalocity]

I have to ask for another Jasmintea because I love your writing so Kisses 15 and 28 and Touches 24, please. Preferably in Sandy’s perspective but you can do Tang’s if you want

Affection meme

15. Soothing kisses

28. Neck Kisses

24. Whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

I don’t think we done any Jasminetea stuff where Tang is Just Some Guy, so i’m gonna do that here because it’s my favorite theory (like everyone else has some deep connections to the classic Pilgrims, Tang is just Some Guy, it’s hilarious)

@tigerseye46

--

He knew the way trauma worked, that sometimes, even long after you’ve processed and moved on, it can still hit you again. It’s one of the things he’d learned rather quickly after starting therapy. His therapist had wanted him to understand that first and foremost so he could better handle these moments as they came and not begin to think that he may be ‘getting worse’ or something along the same lines.

Thankfully he was always content with being the odd duck in his little family, new and old members alike knew that he preferred solitude. While he enjoyed company and would be as pleasant as possible, while he’d do anything for his family, he just preferred the quiet. Which meant that when those sort of relapses happened and a trigger made its way straight into his panic response he was alone.

Well… not ALONE alone granted at least Mo and the other cats were always there, but alone-ish.

There was no point in bothering the others with it. The kids would just be worried, He’d rather Pigsy not find out, Eldest brother…. Likely already knew, he’d poked into his brother’s web history when they were at Flower Fruit Mountain he’d spotted ‘Do I have PTSD?’ in his search history, so it couldn’t have been hard for him to put two and two together.

But Tang…

He really didn’t want Tang to know.

It wasn’t exactly a hope that had any real chance at turning out in his favor, especially since through some minor miracle Tang had somehow gotten it into his head that he was actually someone worth desiring, and now they were… a thing… then surely it would be coming out sooner or later.

He’d just more realistically hoped that it would be on his own terms.

Not like this.

Not with him sealing himself in the water tight shower stall on his boat, letting the water run with the drain plugged until he was totally submerged because the water in the harbor was too dirty too slimy, too full of pollution and invasive mollusk species, it wasn’t the way water was supposed to be, but the only way he could feel okay right now was if he let his gills open up and breathe so he had to make do.

It wasn’t ideal. When he had these specific bouts he’d much rather just take the day, sail out until land was just a speck on the horizon and the ocean water felt much more right, but he didn’t have the option today, he really didn’t want to cancel the date he and Tang were going to go on tonight, and that coupled with the fact that he’d long since given everyone standing ‘always welcome aboard’ invites, that meant that anytime within at least fifteen minutes of the assumed meeting time, Tang was going to just show up, and he needed to be ready.

So this and then whatever yoga he could fit in the time between him calming down and the assumed date time would likely help him stabilize enough that he could handle tonight, at worst he might not stay for a cup of tea when he brought Tang home like the gentleman he wanted to be (and both Tang AND Pigsy would playfully mock him about being) and he could then take tomorrow for himself and do his usual plan.

He knew better than to get frustrated, days like this were just part of the process, he should be glad His bad days didn’t usually try to bring out the rage that had (for the most part) become quiet.

Then there was a tapping on the glass, disturbing the water and making an echoey ‘thunk thunk’ that startled him from his meditation. He flailed and the water sloshed and swirled around him with his motions, as he turned in the direction of the threatthreatthreatthreat the noise.

Tang was peering in on the other side, eyes wide and curious.

“Did I come at a bad time?” his voice was distorted and muffled between the glass and the water but Sandy heard him all the same, his heart a panicked flutter in his chest when did Tang even get there? Why was he here so early? Or- or was he on time? Did he lose track of time? He couldn’t lose track of time like that! Not when he still wasn’t better, not when being outside the water made his skin too dry and his hair too stiff and his gills close up and notsafenotsafenotsafenotsafe-

He wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready yet! He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out he wasn’t better yet.

It seemed Tang quickly began to pick up on what was going on, much to Sandy’s equal relief and embarrassment, curious eyes turning sad for a moment, before the thoughtful gears began to turn. He nodded to himself and held up a hand.

-Before standing and calmly leaving him to his devices.

The part of him that was still screeching and refusing to calm insisted that it was better this way, but he still couldn’t help but miss the company, however brief it was.

Tang was always a bit… energetic… in comparison to Pigsy or himself (even back when they were young! (when Pigsy and Tang were young at least)) a bit of a thrillseeker even if he didn’t overtly appear as such. But he was glad that he at least had the good sense to just leave Sandy to his devices, perhaps fixing himself some tea and settling down with a book, allowing Sandy the time he needed before he was ready, honestly Tang was just such a great guy already it did quite a bit to settle his mind to be assured that he was going to be patient with him when it came to this, should it happen again (he hoped not for a long time, but his hands weren’t anywhere near done shaking yet so these ‘unsafe’ moods might start making themselves more frequent again.

And then Tang burst back into the room, shed of his outer layers and clad only in his undershirt and boxers and a stepladder, determined grin looking far too cute for the pieces Sandy was quickly putting together. It didn’t take much for his head to go above water so he could speak, he technically just hand to arrange himself so he was sitting on his knees instead of rear and straighten his back, and Tang had the look in his eye that implied this was probably going to be an ‘academic debate’ he’d lose--Several argument points and a fair few more rebuttals already on the tip of his partner’s tongue as he set the stepladder at the base of the shower and started attempting to heave himself over the edge of the shower walls--so he did so to both be able to speak and to better make a bit of room.

“Studies! Have! Shown! -huff huff- that! Acts! Of-!” A yelp cut Tang off as his grip nearly slipped and sent him backward, Sandy jolted, about to stand up to help but Tang regained his footing and held out a hand to wave him off as he finally was half tilted on the top of the glass shower wall, resting for a moment before trying to heave the rest of his body over the edge. “Where was I? Right, acts of solidarity are better for recovery in the long run than simply allowing the person who needs it to stew on their own.” And then with one final scrabble against the glass Tang braced himself and dropped.

And would have completely bashed his head against the showerhead if Sandy didn’t reach out and properly lower him onto the tile.

Instantly he watched his partner freeze up, stiffen and hands suddenly clamp around his chest as the temperature of the water hit him at once.

“Wow that’s cold!”

Sandy hummed and prepared to help him back out but Tang took a breath and dunked his head and shoulders underwater briefly to be properly soaked before resurfacing, pushing his hair back in a way that had no business being so pretty while Sandy was still in the middle of freaking out. “Much better.”

“Can you talk right now?” Quite the question. Talking while his gills were open was always a bit of a hit or miss situation. Sometimes it just made his voice sound a bit garbled, but if he had just surfaced from the water-

He held out a hand infront of his mouth and tested, and sure enough nothing but the faintest huff came out. So he just shook his head in the negative and smiled to try and relay a quick apology.

Tang hummed. “Yes or no questions then.” He was too good. He’d clearly researched this whole thing long ago and had been preparing what to do when the time came ever since, not coming out and saying so, but being prepared when the opportunity arose.

In a strange way it sort of reminded him of something Master would do… He really needed to get back in contact with Sanzang actually, But what would he say to him? Would master even recognize him after everything that had changed? Would he be upset that he’d tracked down Middle Brother’s reincarnation and hadn’t immediately gone to tell him? Or keeping the fact that Eldest Brother was starting to participate in the world around them again and hadn’t immediately gone to him and told him he was right in anticipating Sun Wukong’s eventual return? Would he just be upset with him for how long it had been since they’d spoken? They used to all be so close would the gap that would have formed be so wide and massive that they may as well be strangers again-

“Can I touch you?” Tang broke through his quickly spiraling thoughts calmly. Sandy peered down into the water again and saw him wringing his hands nervously.

He nodded.

“Just push me off if it gets uncomfortable.” Tang paused for a moment. “Not too hard though, Pigsy might say i have a hard head but I don’t know if it would handle collision with tile”

Sandy was able to get a quick laugh out of that, though it came out as silent as anything else with his throat and lungs full of water.

He opened his arms and Tang slotted comfortably inside. It was a bit awkward, since he had to make sure his partner could keep his head above water, but it was manageable, quickly Tang braced himself on Sandy’s shoulders and began to press gentle kisses to what exposed skin was above water.

And it was a bit embarrassing how quickly it was calming the raging storm in his mind. Just… the presence of another warm body against his but still cool and protected by the water around him, it made a shiver crawl up his spine but… in a pleasant way.

Tang pressed himself a little further against Sandy’s chest, mouth resting on the space between his cheek and ear. “I’ll shut up now.”

He wished he knew how that little insecurity got its way into Tang’s head. The man was one of the most confident people he knew, (save Big Brother, but nobody could shake the confidence of Sun Wukong.) and he would show unshakeable he was under cruel words every time they were aimed at him, hell, his primary method of rapport with Pigsy was the both of them bullying eachother relentlessly (in their own words too!) but for some reason once they got romantically involved Tang kept making self-deprecating jokes about being ‘annoying’ and ‘talking too much’ and Sandy’s heart ached when he couldn’t help but wonder how many relationships Tang had been in that crumbled from his supposed ‘annoying’ nature.

Tang took then to take a gasping breath and plunged beneath the water. Sandy was worried for a moment, but then it seemed like Tang knew exactly what he was doing, quickly pushing aside the floating beard hair and wriggling his face in to get near his neck, and for a moment Sandy froze. His gills were still gently pushing and pulling the water through his system and even though he knew Tang would never (intentionally) hurt him his body stiffened as his face (Mouth, teeth, he knows how painful it is to have air blown into your gills he hates it he hates it what’s Tang gonna do he has him at his mercy now) came near such a sensitive part of his body.

Tang placed a gentle kiss on his neck, right over the topmost gill and pulled back out, taking a gasping breath upon surfacing.

“You know, today might just be a good day for one of those low energy ‘Stay in’ dates, wouldn’t you agree?” He was so good.

Too good for him.

But still Sandy nodded and Tang smiled at him in that handsome broad way again before taking another breath and plunging back down.

--

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