#and then I worry I’m taking the guilt trip angle when it’s not that

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Having one of those days where I’m doubting whether I’m a good parent or whether I neglect/spoil my siblings by turns

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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[youcouldmakealife]

Jared/Bryce; a whole table of Stephens

Hi all, little update and also I threw in some fic as a ‘I know I am not responsible for an out of the blue medical emergency, it was just the result of bad luck and being extremely nearsighted, but also that was very bad timing to have to go on medical leave and guilt is not rational’ apology. Haven’t yet been cleared to work but I hope that is what will happen at my next doctor appointment, fingers crossed. 

When I am cleared, it will almost certainly be for limited hours for awhile -- I have very little vision in my left eye at the mo’, because one of my surgeries was the ‘make things worse to make things better’ sort, and my right eye is doing 99% of the work, so eye fatigue comes quickly. My first priority will be getting things Officially Published when I do return. And then I will do my very best to not have any further emergencies, because honestly, they’re exhausting. 

Anyway remember the prompt for Jared making a new friend? And how Bryce is not allowed to come? He takes exception.

“Why can’t I come?” Bryce whines.

Jared maybe forgot, when they all agreed that Bryce was absolutely not allowed to meet a bunch of mean people for his own good, that Bryce is, well —

Bryce doesn’t feeling left out, especially now that his shoulder injury’s left him out of the roster.

“It’s for your own good,” Jared says, not for the first time.

“It’s just drinks,” Bryce says, as unmoved by that argument as every other time, “And they’re Stephen’s friends, so like, I assume they know about him and Gabe? And the whole world doesn’t know about that, so they’re probably trustworthy, right?”

Jared wasn’t even worried about his relationship with Bryce getting out, which is kind of a trip to realise. Either it’s faded as a concern far more than Jared would have expected, or he just trusts Stephen enough to know that he wouldn’t have invited him if there was any chance of that happening. Or that if there were, Gabe would have intervened. Which is — comforting, honestly.

But Bryce still can’t come.

“They’re all Jareds,” Jared says.

“You’re a Jared, and I like you,” Bryce says. “A lot.”

He smiles winningly, and Jared remembers, dimly, when he thought that smile was obnoxious. Because he did. He doesn’t know why he did, because it’s honestly exactly as charming as Bryce thinks it is, but he did.

“You don’t make a good first impression on Jareds,” Jared says.

He didn’t make a good impression on Stephen or on Julius either, so Jared thinks he has enough information to work with on the impression Bryce has on hobgoblins, even excluding the ‘older untrustworthy dude dating my teenage son’ angle provided by his parents. Erin liked him, but that was more Erin thinking Bryce was hot, because Bryce, you know, is.

Also Erin isn’t a Jared. Obviously.

“You’re—“ Jared says, then pauses, trying to think of the right words to describe how…Bryce he is. “You’re very…Bryce.”

“You married me,” Bryce says. “So obviously being Bryce isn’t like, the worst thing in the entire world to Jareds?”

“I’m not trying to insult you right now,” Jared says. He’s probably doing it, but it’s not on purpose. And he can’t think of a way to say ‘you’re a lot’ that doesn’t sound like a complaint, but Jared doesn’t mean it in a bad way at all. Obviously. Because, as Bryce fairly pointed out, Jared married him.

“I know,” Bryce says, and he does seem more amused than anything.

“And you’re not very good at…” Jared says, then pauses again.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to insult me?” Bryce asks, still looking amused.

“You don’t like it when people are mean to you,” Jared says.

“No?” Bryce says. “I don’t think that’s, like, weird. Wait, is that weird? I really don’t — is that weird?”

“Not weird,” Jared assures him. “Just — you take it personally? Okay, let me — it’s not a bunch of Jareds, it’s a bunch of Stephens. A whole table of Stephens.”

Bryce blanches.

“Exactly,” Jared says.

“No Gabes?” Bryce asks tentatively.

“Just Stephens,” Jared says. “Jareds and Stephens. And no Gabes.”

Bryce immediately drops his quest to come along.

[katbrando]

dinokat ✱ 10.9k ✱ NSFW (minors dni, you'll be blocked) written very self-indulgently for my birthday, this is a series of snapshot drabbles encapsulating a surprise trip to the utah desert. there's horseback riding, hiking, drunken shenanigans, and typical dinokat silliness. majority is SFW, the smut is around 2k and takes place near the end of the fic. [ read on ao3 instead ]

“Babe, you look like –”

I’ve never seen Diego move with as much force and speed as he slams his laptop shut and whips his head around to look at me. His face is riddled with something akin to fear, though not severe enough to warrant too much concern.

“-- a shrimp,” I finish the statement, ruffling my damp hair with a towel and eyeing him with confusion.

Diego stays rooted on the couch, but holds his laptop protectively in his lap as if whatever he’d been previously looking at is for his eyes only. Processing the observation, he straightens up and shrugs dismissively.

“Just relaxing. Finally my turn to shower?” The subtle accusation hints at something else bothering him, though it seems he’s not exactly keen on discussing it. I have to swallow the anxiety and focus instead on the smile that’s gradually crossing his face.

“I offered for you to join me.” Towel now draped across my shoulders, I walk towards him and gently poke Diego in the forehead. “You snooze, you lose.”

Sharp cerulean eyes stare directly up at me as he grips my wrist and lowers my hand to his lips. Once he’s placed a kiss to my palm he finally stands up, still holding his laptop tight against his chest. 

“We both know if I’d have joined you,” Diego pauses amidst a sly grin that bares the sharp points of his teeth, “we’d have been in there for ages.”

I have no time to offer a rebuttal, not that I want to anyway. Diego promptly presses his lips to my cheek and leaves the living room. His laptop is stored somewhere in the space of our bedroom before he shuts himself in the bathroom and, despite my confusion and genuine curiosity, there’s no reason to go hunting for it. I trust Diego, respect his privacy, but it’s odd that he’s been acting like this lately. In a way, it reminds me of how secretive he’d been about his poetry when we’d first started dating, but there’s no telling what it might be this time. Ultimately, he can be quite protective of certain parts of himself, and it’d simply be unfair of me to pry things out of him when he isn’t quite ready to show them. 

I’m lucky enough to see intimate parts of himself that he rarely shows to anyone, and that’s more than good enough for me.

The days leading up to my birthday week continue to consist of Diego covertly tapping away at his phone and angling his laptop just right to shield whatever it is he’s looking at from my view. Curiosity is painfully consuming me, but I remain silent about his odd behavior. 

Gradually, however, it starts to become clear what he’s up to. It’s when he firmly requests that I take off the entire weekend of the upcoming date that I understand he must be planning something. Diego knows surprises stress me out and often keep me awake at night, but he insists I have nothing to worry about. Of course, that’s not my concern, it’s more rooted in a feeling of guilt at whatever he’s putting together specifically for me. But Diego is a gift giver, it’s who he is at his core; those he loves, though not many, he showers in gifts as a sign of his affection.

And so, I do as he says. Soon enough the fateful weekend is nearly upon us, and the minute I return home from work on Thursday, Diego greets me at the door, stopping me in my tracks from entering any further.

“What are you doing?” I pry, attempting to rise to my tip-toes and glance over his shoulders.

“Calm down,” Diego coos. “Close your eyes.”

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I relent, shutting my eyes and immediately feeling one of his palms press to my lower back, pulling me into our home and guiding me god knows where. Based on my general familiarity with the layout, I conclude that he’s led me to our bedroom.

“Alright, open them, but,” Diego pauses, tone a bit stern, “you have to promise not to throw a fit.”

“Why would I throw a fit?” 

Diego doesn’t answer the question; instead he quietly gives me the go-ahead again. Steeling myself so I won’t react in a way he won’t appreciate, my eyes slowly open and notice we’re standing next to our bed. Atop the mattress lies two packed suitcases, a pair of plane tickets placed against their surface. Diego doesn’t give me time to respond, just straightens up to confidently explain.

“I’m taking you on a trip.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning. “We leave tonight, our flight is in two hours.”

“What?” I lift my stare and bite back the distress bubbling up in my throat. “Where –”

“Utah.” Diego’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction.

Out of every possible location he could have chosen for a trip, Utah is certainly nowhere near the top of the list. What could have possibly drawn him to this state specifically? Perhaps these were the cheapest tickets, or maybe he’s mistaken it for some other location. He’s still fairly unfamiliar with the States.

“Utah,” I repeat. “Okay, so… if the flight is in two hours what are we still doing here? It’s best to be at the airport early!”

“Christ, you’re still uptight from work.” Diego observes, and I slightly bristle with annoyance at his (likely very correct) assumption. “It’s fine, we’ll be there with plenty of time to spare. I packed ahead of time for a reason, darling.”

Speechless, I glance at our luggage, then back to him. I have no clue what awaits us in Utah, but still I wrap my arms around his torso and tightly hug him in thanks. 

“You didn’t have to do this.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I know he’s going to tell me off.

“There it is,” he chuckles, choosing not to further scold me. Instead, with one arm still wrapped securely around my shoulders, he reaches for one suitcase and pulls it to the floor. “We ought to get going.”

Ignoring my desire for a post-work shower, I follow his lead and grasp my own luggage. Diego tucks our plane tickets away, guiding me out to the living room. He tends to Anguirus, quickly feeding him and offering him a loving goodbye. It occurs to me that Diego has previously complained about airports and planes, which only furthers my appreciation for this gesture. The fact that he’s willing to go through a process he despises so much just to celebrate my birthday with me warms my heart in a way that only he is capable of. 

Putting up with Diego’s onslaught of complaining and frustration at the airport is easy; I’ve become used to his tendency to exhibit irritation with a great number of things, at this point in our relationship I deal with it with a sense of humor. He responds decently well to my supportive touches and words, but he’s still incredibly antsy and on edge for the duration of our 3 hour flight.

As soon as we land in Utah, Diego makes a beeline for the luggage claim. Suitcases finally in hand, he practically jogs out of the building and tugs me along with him. Only when the warm night air fills his lungs does he seem to relax. For tonight, he’s booked us a simple hotel. He explains that our real destination will be reached in the morning, though he still keeps it a secret despite my pleas for him to reveal it to me.

Airports are exhausting, so it doesn’t take much effort for me to relax in the security of Diego’s arms that night amidst the warmth of the hotel bed’s duvet. Sleep takes me as he nuzzles against my forehead, quietly professing his love in the silence of the room.

Refreshed after a full night’s rest, Diego and I set out for another lengthy trip to our final destination. From the comfort of our rented car, bustling cities give way to vast deserts, and all the while my mind attempts to put the pieces together. It’s been years since I’ve experienced a landscape like this outside of train rides to various parts of the west coast. Diego appears rather proud of himself for the duration of the ride, clearly pleased by my obliviousness. 

“A hint, at the very least,” I grumble about three-quarters through our drive. “Please.”

“A hint…” Diego’s eyes narrow as he studies the road ahead of him. There’s no way that mind of his will come up with anything legitimate; he’s likely trying to craft some sort of joke instead.

“Don’t tell me you’re just driving aimlessly. I love you, but getting stranded out here isn’t my idea of a good time, and I might have to leave you.” 

“You’ll have a good time, I promise.” There’s a pause, I ready myself for the inevitable punchline. “In fact, you could say… it’ll be quite the out-sand-ing time.”

“I can’t stand you.”

Diego chuckles at my insult, knowing it’s said in jest. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you one hint. Just one.” Hand outstretched towards me, one finger is held in front of my face for emphasis.

“Shoot.”

“I’m nearly positive you’ve never been there before.”

“That’s not a hint.” I press my head farther back against the seat and roll my eyes.

“Relax.” Diego gives my thigh a pat before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “We’re nearly there.”

So I do, enjoying the sound of Diego singing along to our road trip playlist and occasionally interjecting to mention facts about the local wildlife. There’s no way his passion for herpetology had nothing to do with choosing this location, and I certainly can’t blame him. Sometime during his chatter and carseat performance I manage to drift off to sleep, only to be woken up an hour later by the feeling of Diego gently shaking my shoulder.

“Darling,” he mumbles, only continuing when my eyes have cracked open, “we’re here.”

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight again, met with the sight of a rectangular white building with a large sign I can’t quite make out just yet.

“Where–”

“Amangiri,” Diego grins and studies me for an instant reaction. Where he only gets a blank stare he purses his lips just slightly. “Haven’t you heard of it? Apparently it’s quite popular with celebrities in your country.”

“Celebrities?” My voice cracks under the onslaught of questions riddling my mind. How much money has he spent? How did he even find out about this place? Why couldn’t he have just settled for something less extravagant?

“Apparently the Kardashians are fans of the place,” Diego states as if I should be familiar. He doesn’t give me a chance to fight him any further, just slips out from his side of the car and makes his way to the passenger side.

Begrudgingly I take his hand and allow him to lead me inside the building into a pristine lobby that makes me suddenly feel quite shabby. Diego confidently checks us in, having his usual charismatic small talk with the woman working the front desk and offering a lively ‘thank you’ as soon as he acquires our keys.

Outside again and fully adjusted to the piercingly bright sunlight, I scan the surrounding buildings and note a small group of people relaxing in a crisp, clear pool at the very center.

“So which one is ours?”

“It’s farther out, let’s go.” Diego quickly heads for the car, glancing back when I don’t immediately follow him. 

As has become a trend in our relationship, I refrain from questioning him amidst his visible excitement. Our final drive for the day takes much less time, once more filled with Diego’s lilted singing. When the sight of a cubical cement building comes into view he happily points it out.

“Our little home for the weekend. A bit smaller than I’d pictured.”

Small or not, the suite is gorgeous. The interior is simplistic, decorated with modern furniture and accents of timber. A private fenced-in sky terrace houses a large daybed, a small pool sitting just at its foot. As if all that weren’t enough, there’s a firepit out front as well and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the entire space in natural light. Amidst my fawning and disbelief, Diego has pulled our luggage inside and neatly placed it at the foot of the indoor king-sized bed.

“Pictures are deceiving,” he grumbles, making his way back over to assist me in shrugging off my denim jacket. “But It’ll do.”

“‘It’ll do’?” When I whip my head around to face him he raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? This is–” I wave my hands around to emphasize no spot of the interior in particular. “It’s amazing.”

Diego’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his arm slinks around my waist and tugs me closer. “As long as you like it.” His voice lowers. “If you don’t then I’ll personally go to management. Just say the word, love.”

“No need for that.” A scoff makes way for laughter when Diego leans in to press several kisses against my cheek.

“Let’s settle in, then. I’ll order some dinner, you just relax.”

Not needing to be asked twice, I do just that. A satisfying shower eases any of the residual tension from our lengthy drive, then I take an opportunity to step outside and fully appreciate the landscape surrounding us. Endless desert with towering mountains all painted in rich warm shades seem to extend out forever into the distance. The last time I visited Utah was when I was much younger, a period of my life where my family had traveled all over the States to take in the sights of countless national parks. To be able to experience it all over again with Diego fills me with euphoria and excitement.

Speak of the devil, Diego meets me outside with a bag full of what I can only assume is our dinner. He waves it around cheerfully as he slides the glass door shut.

“Turmeric chicken for my darling.” He sets the bag down on the outdoor dining table and rummages through until he locates the mentioned box and sets it down. “Lamb masala for me.” The second entree follows suit. “And wine for later.” He keeps said alcohol in the bag, though still grinning in anticipation of enjoying it this evening.

I swallow back the question of how expensive this meal was; if I’m going to properly enjoy this weekend, I have to allow him to shower me with gifts, regardless of how much money he’s shoveling out. Instead I take a deep breath and sit down with him, succumbing to his charm and quick wit, still as powerful as it was at the beginning of our relationship.

With full bellies, Diego and I return inside and curl up against the couch, meaning to watch television but instead cuddling and unleashing unbridled affection upon each other. We’ve changed into a set of comfortable robes that were neatly folded atop our bed’s mattress, making it much easier to brush hands underneath the soft fabric and steal purposeful touches. 

As the night sky goes dark and fills with an array of bright stars, Diego takes the opportunity to pop open the bottle of wine he’d ordered earlier. After more than a couple of glasses, the television is largely ignored, and he instead puts on a playlist through his phone. I choose not to indulge in drink, knowing it’s much more entertaining to watch as he slowly falls victim to the alcohol running through his system.

Diego isn’t a lightweight by any means, but tonight he doesn’t take it slow. He nearly finishes the bottle in no time, bringing him to a clearly tipsy state. Under the influence, his goofiness and tendency to entertain are always heightened to almost obscene amounts, so it’s no surprise that he’s stumbling around the living room under the guise of dancing, his voice bouncing against the concrete walls surrounding us. 

After witnessing him barely bump into the couch arm and nearly topple over, I giggle at the sight of his exaggerated pout, “I told you to slow down.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, taking another swig from the bottle in one hand, squinting at his phone in the other. “S’just wine.”

There’s no time for me to respond; he flips through tracks until he lands on Arctic Monkeys cover of Baby I’m Yours, a personal favorite of his. I anticipate that he’ll be belting with extra enthusiasm, and unfortunately I’m correct.

“Ah,” Diego sighs, letting the first few seconds play until he holds the bottle to his mouth as if it’s a microphone. “Baby I’m yours–”

“Alright, c’mon, I’m getting you some water.” 

When I attempt to get up, Diego latches his hand on my shoulder and spins me around, singing louder to drown out my refusal to engage in his drunken behavior.

“Stop.” My body language betrays my words as I grasp his forearm and step closer. 

“Yours until the poets run out of rhyme,” his voice cracks, his face scrunches up when he tries to recover from his blunder. He skips the next line as he takes another drink from the basically empty bottle.

There’s no way I’m going to win against his determination to entertain and romance me. I fall into step with him instead and let him wrap an arm around my waist, thumping my forehead into the crook of his neck. 

“I’m gonna stay right here, by your side.” He hiccups, chuckling afterwards. “Do my best to keep you satisfied–”

“You’d satisfy me if you hydrated,” I mumble against his chest.

“Shhh. Dance with me, darling.” 

Diego lets the next few lines play out on their own, choosing to down the remainder of the bottle and clumsily drop it to the floor only to kick it out of the way. 

“Yours until two and two is three.” This time his slurring is so painfully obvious that I pull back and gently tug at his arm.

“Alright. Water.” I plead, and he finally stumbles after me.

“I’m fine,” he croons, another hiccup completely trumping his insistence.

“You’re drunk.” I laugh again, filling a glass at the kitchen sink and oustretching it towards him.

Glass in hand, Diego takes a long drink and dramatically sighs afterwards. “Fine, you’re right.” I’m surprised by the way he admits defeat, but his next few words have me rolling my eyes. “I’m drunk… on love.”

“You’re insufferable.” I shake my head but give his shoulder a loving squeeze. When I attempt to refill the glass, he takes it from my hand and slides it across the counter.

“But you love me,” he correctly observes, leaning closer until his alcohol-laced breath is fanning across my lips. “Now kiss me.”

It’s a good thing I’m sober, Diego’s heated kisses and needy touches are intoxicating enough all on their own. Amidst our stumbling and laughter, his phone is abandoned somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, completely forgotten as pent up tension takes over.

“Have you ridden horses before?” Voice coming out more gravely than I’d intended, the question appears to pique Diego’s interest. 

“‘Course.” The pair of us jostle slightly in our seats as the car rolls over rough terrain. “You have, right?”

I suppose it would have been silly to assume he’d be taking us to do just that if he’d had no previous experience. “Yeah, but it’s been…” I pause, mulling the thought over in my still half-asleep state. “Dunno, probably since I was twelve or something.”

“You’ve got me beat. Think I was ten.” 

When our car finally reaches a small ranch with a fully-housed barn of horses, a farmhand greets us and instructs us to wait with a few more resort guests. A short demonstration ensues; basic safety tips, how to control a horse, how to mount one, all things that Diego half-listens to as he quietly insists this is all common sense. Maybe it is to him, but he’s aided by a photographic memory and a sort of confidence that would drive anyone to think he’s an expert in anything he does or says.

I half-expect Diego to immediately get knocked off his horse, but the animal melts at his touch and offers him immediate trust as soon as he approaches. Granted, he is delicate, sweet-talking the mare and never once putting a hand on her until she ceases backing away. In fact, Diego requires no assistance from the ranchers in mounting his horse, and he watches with amusement as I’m offered a wooden stool in order to even reach my destination. Another round of instruction and rule listing drags on for longer than probably necessary before our whole group is led farther out into the desert.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re secretly a professional horse jockey?” I ask during a moment of quiet, the pair of us far enough from our group that it now feels more like a private date.

“A jockey?” Diego scoffs. “Please, I haven’t been on a horse in years.” There’s a wistful warmth in his eyes as he gently brushes his hand through his horse’s mane. “Maybe in another lifetime.”

“You’re good with them.” Not that I need to tell him that. He looks right at home, posture perfect and chin lifted with somehow even more confidence than he typically radiates. “Y’all just met and she loves you.”

Diego turns to face me, slowly smiles, and lifts an eyebrow. “Well, I am quite charming.”

“Nevermind.” I roll my eyes and the sound of Diego’s laughter fills the air.

“I rode when I was younger.” He guides his horse to fall in step closer with mine. “Mum had me in classes as soon as I was old enough.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Understanding this as a rare moment of sincere vulnerability, I study him closely but resist further questioning.

“Loved it.” Childlike joy fills his face. “She always said I had a knack for it. S’pose that’s why I’ve always loved animals.”

Instead of asking why he’d ever stopped, I bask in this moment with him, watching his expression light up with the childhood memories he doesn’t deem painful. Stories about his mother always bring about a softer side of Diego, one less tinged with resentment and irritation for the struggles his father had put him through. He’s a guarded man, but in this moment he doesn’t clam up when he catches me lovingly staring at him; instead, he returns the soft expression and reaches over to tightly grasp my hand in his. 

“We’re falling behind.” The observation comes just moments after Diego’s finished explaining the first time he fell off a horse as a young boy.

Diego’s eyes follow where mine rest, along the expanse of towering sandstone pillars and arches. The rest of our group is reduced to small figures slightly blurred by sandy winds, but before my anxiety can get any worse on its own Diego releases my hand and tightly grips his reins.

“I’ll race you.”

“Absolutely not.” My refusal falls on deaf ears, Diego’s wrists flicking and effectively quickening his horse’s pace. “Diego!”

Reckless as ever, he only glances back to chide me. “Loosen up! You’ll lose at this rate!” Another quick gesture and he’s speeding off in front of me.

“Dammit,” I mutter, begrudgingly following his lead and doing my best to balance myself.

In the end, we receive nothing more than a light reminder from the tour guide that it’s safest to maintain a steady pace and remain with the group. The instruction means nothing to Diego, and while it weighs on me for a bit, his thoroughly entertained and heightened mood make the entire thing worth it.

Tonight’s dinner is spent at one of the intimate restaurants that sits within the property of Amangiri Resort. What once was a vast sea of mountains in fiery oranges and reds now appears more subdued, dark and sleeping beneath a sky dotted with stars. Even with the beautifully set table lit by a pair of flickering candles in front of me, I can’t help admiring the scenery from the floor-length window just next to us.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Diego’s low voice breaks me from my trance. “If the food isn’t good we can order something else.”

“Oh, no!” I fix my attention on him instead, immediately enticed by his illuminated features. It’s a wonder why I’d even choose to look at anything else. “Just admiring the view.”

“Me too.” Diego’s lip curls into a sly smile. “But I’d much prefer if the view were looking back at me and enjoying their meal.”

It’s as if we’re back at our very first date, his cheesy charm rendering me powerless and his eyes watching me carefully for every effect that his words have. They are, of course, predictable and just as present as the first time he managed to woo me months ago; an uncontrollable and hot blush, a sheepish smile, a passive scoff. He eats all of it up.

After dinner we retreat back to our suite, eager to settle in and relax for the remainder of the night. After sharing some time together in the large rainfall shower, the night air greets us again in our sky terrace. The cooling breeze brings me to pull my robe tighter around myself as I hear Diego slide the glass door shut and place two mugs of tea on a table for two nestled in the corner of the private space.

Without turning around, my eyes hypnotized by the stillness and clarity of the small outdoor pool, I mutter a quick ‘thank you’ in return for the beverages. Diego’s footsteps against the concrete are easily audible as he approaches me. Our bodies meet, one of his arms slinking around mine and guiding me to turn and face him as his other hand delicately brushes my still-damp hair back from my face.

“The desert suits you,” Diego observes in a hushed voice. “I wish we could live out here. Just the two of us and our little dragon.” His fingertips glide down from my cheek to my jaw, his thumb softly prodding at my lower lip.

I chance a cheeky nibble on the digit, watching with delight as he furrows his brow. “It’s way too hot out here.”

“So you prefer the painfully unpredictable nature of your hometown.” Diego grumbles, lifting an eyebrow and deadpanning the last two words. “I see.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t a glutton for unpredictability.” I dip my hand beneath the sleeve of his robe to grasp the warm skin of his forearm.

He responds to the gesture with a tug, what little distance resting between us now gone. Voice only a whisper, his breath tickles my cheeks.

“Couldn’t possibly have any idea what you’re referring to, my love.”

“Right.”

As is typical, light banter plays out between the two of us, each of our tones and body language becoming increasingly riled up. The previously warm tea is largely ignored save for a few sips, now cooled and forgotten as quick wit and humor gives way to physical affection. But, the underlying energy of clear power play is still ever-present. Neither of us want to let the other win, even when we have no idea what determines victory in the first place.

Diego is awarded a brief second of dominance as I allow his lips to brush tenderly against mine. He’s won the battle, but certainly not the war. It takes hardly any force at all when my palms quickly shove at his chest, sending him toppling back into the pool with a yelp. Waves splash up at me when his body makes contact; his cries of displeasure echo alongside the sloshing of water.

“Kat!” I’m laughing so hard I can barely hear him as he steadies himself in the water. He dramatically whips his head back and forth, sending even more water soaring my way. “Bloody hell, what was that for?”

“I’m sorry,” I choke on a laugh, having to bend down and rest my hands against my knees, “I couldn’t help it, you look like a wet rat.”

Diego stares up at me, hair initially sticking to his face but eventually swiped back by one of his hands. His eyes are blown wide, stuck somewhere between frustration and adoration. The plush robe he’d been wearing is now resting at the top of the water, floating around him like an absurd lifejacket. I try to stifle another laugh but inevitably snort at just how ridiculous he looks.

“You’re a nutter,” Diego whispers, still audible in the cooling desert air.

“Takes one to know one,” I reply and walk to the edge of the pool, slowly sitting down and sinking my legs into the water. 

Diego gives up and fully removes the robe, allowing it to float uselessly atop the now calming waves. Now free, his hands immediately rest against my calves, pulling himself closer until he’s able to comfortably fold his arms across my thighs. It’s almost unfair how cute he looks as he blinks away the droplets resting on his eyelashes, sending them rolling down his beautifully dotted cheeks and full, pouting lips.

“I’m so madly in love with you.”

His words grip me instantly, they’re unexpected and sudden and of course he’s expressed the sentiment before, but in this moment they feel so powerful and real. It’s almost like I don’t care anymore if he happens to win this silly little tussle. There’s no rebuttal I can bring myself to offer.

“I love you, too.”

“I certainly hope so.” Diego plays up the sweet act for another few seconds, then his devilish smile returns and I have essentially no time to prepare for his next move. 

“What –” I sputter, but he’s already got his arms latched around my thighs.

Diego rips me from my spot on the concrete, hoisting me over his shoulder and dunking me in the water, all the while laughing so loud I’m almost certain anyone could hear him from a mile away. He’s nice enough to only submerge me for a split second, but when I come up for air my vision is completely obstructed by my hair.

Amidst my gasping and struggle to achieve balance, Diego takes it upon himself to apologetically brush my soaked bangs back. He seems quite proud of himself, chin lifted as the remainder of his laughing fit plays out.

“Dee,” I keep my tone low and threatening, but Diego doesn’t appear affected. 

“Yes, love?”

Knowing full well that words will do nothing, I allow the playful energy from earlier to take over again, quickly splashing him and relishing in the way he squawks. The concrete surface of the sky terrace quickly becomes dangerously slick with the force of our onslaught on each other; in fact, after a bit, it’s surprising there’s any water left in the pool at all. 

But yet again, the lighthearted brawl mellows out and becomes more subdued in the form of breathless laughter and contrite touches. The pair of us gradually back up into one corner of the pool, my arms draped loosely across his shoulders, his firmly holding me up to accommodate my legs wrapped around his waist. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than wade in heated waters with him, sharing passion-laced kisses and ignoring the fact that our shower earlier was now meaningless.

It’s during a pause for breath that Diego gives my ass a squeeze alongside a firm suggestion. “Might be wise to take this elsewhere before we turn into a couple of prunes.” He vaguely nods towards the day bed just feet away. “As long as you promise not to push me in again.”

As enticing as the idea is, I suppose it’s fine to let him have his way. I press my body tighter against his and quietly laugh. “Promise.”

Today’s activity, despite my hesitation, is a hiking trip. An event that would almost seem like a task if not for Diego’s wild enthusiasm about it. He’s dressed in a sleeveless tank and mid-thigh length athletic shorts, hair haphazardly pulled into a loose ponytail that sticks out from above the clasp of his heather-gray baseball cap. 

“Right then.” Diego shoves his phone in front of my face, screen so close I can’t even make out what he’s showing me. “We’re on the hunt for one of these beauties.”

Only slightly annoyed – likely due more to sleepiness than anything – I gently lower his wrist and look at the photo on his phone. A large lizard with black-and-orange skin that almost appears beaded stares back at me with tiny eyes. I wrack my brain for the name of the species, nearly confident in my guess considering he’s mentioned it a few times before.

“Gila monster?” I hesitantly ask, immediate relief hitting me when Diego grins back at me, his eyes likely sparkling even behind the aviators he’s wearing.

“I’ve never seen one in person.” He excitedly flips through his photos, landing on one of a huddle of hatchlings. “Look how cute.”

“Are they common out here?” I follow Diego as we set out along the marked path, desert terrain crunching beneath our sneakers.

“They’re rare,” Diego continues, lacing his fingers with mine after he tucks his phone away in his pocket. “Extremely so, apparently. But.” He glances at me and grins enough for the sharp points of his teeth to be fully visible. “Yours truly has a way with these beasts.”

The desert sun is unforgiving as we make our way across rough ground and up into rocky hillsides. Diego entertains, spouting off his vast knowledge of reptiles and continually pointing out if he happens to see a common breed within our range of sight. A photography session ensues every single time, him cautiously taking several of just the animal on its own before asking me to include him in the pictures as well. 

It’s likely not common to see this many in general, or for them to be so calm in the presence of people, but maybe it’s due to Diego’s stand powers that he’s able to attract them without doing much. Every so often Diego gives low, animalistic growling or chirping sounds in an effort to further entice them, and it’s only me reminding him that we can’t smuggle a lizard from its natural habitat that drags him away from interacting with them. But hey, at this rate, maybe we will see a gila monster.

Our path is clearly marked and relatively free of other travelers, making it a mostly smooth trek farther and farther up a particularly high mesa. Roughly an hour of walking at a leisurely pace brings us closer to the final destination, made obvious by a high arch casting a thick shadow over the pair of us. 

“Nearly there,” Diego huffs, pausing for breath after several minutes of a steep incline. He glances back at me, momentarily removing his aviators to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Alright?”

Equally sweaty, I take a hefty sip from our shared water bottle and give neither a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. “I’ll be fine when we’re at the top.” I pass the container to him and he quickly indulges as well.

In the end, the trek is far more than worth it. When we reach the top of the mesa we’re blessed with a flat surface that’s much easier to maintain balance on. The thick, towering arch we’d seen while making our way up shields the sky from our view, offering a much needed reprieve from the blistering heat of the sun. 

“Look at that.” Diego’s voice comes from several feet away from me, breaking me from my fixation on the sandstone structure above us. When I whip my head around to face him I find him standing farther out towards the edge, marveling at the view.

There aren’t many things that bring Diego to a speechless state, but this seems to be doing the trick for both of us. The sight is breathtaking; sprawling desert seems to go on forever, dotted with isolated buttes and deep canyons, all surrounded by thick, fiery layers of sand and watched over by a crisp blue sky and pillowy clouds.

Who knows how long we stand there like this, fully transfixed and motionless even as hot wind fans across our faces. It’s only when Diego’s hand grasps mine, easily lacing our fingers together, that I feel grounded again.

“Alright, you win.” I try not to smile at the way he instantly turns to face me. “The hike was worth it.”

“It’s useless to fight me on these things. I saw the photos and knew.” Diego squeezes my hand and softly chuckles. “Quite ridiculous that a Brit is acting as a tour guide for his American girlfriend.”

Ridiculous isn’t the word I would use. Thoughtful… doting…loving… selfless, even. Those are the words my mind conjures up when I consider just how much planning he’s had to do for this entire trip. 

“You’re way too good to me.” I prepare myself for his scolding, but this time he doesn’t call me out for my overly considerate tendencies.

Instead, he tightly wraps an arm around my shoulder, tugging me against his body and sighing blissfully when I embrace him in return. “I only want the best for you, love.”

“Could’ve just locked the two of us in one room for an entire weekend and that would have sufficed.”

“Nonsense.” Diego waves the comment off and releases his hold on me, allowing us both to appreciate the beautiful landscape in front of us all over again. “Besides, I wanted to see it for myself.”

“It’s gorgeous, way cooler than I remember as a kid. Is there anything like this back in the UK?”

“Not even close.” Diego laughs, shaking his head as he appears to reminisce on his time back home. “Certainly not anywhere near Manchester.”

“Bummer. Guess you’re gonna have to stay forever in the States where it’s more interesting, huh?”

That’s a question he doesn’t even entertain, because the answer is so plainly obvious. 

“We have hillsides, I spent a great number of drunken nights hosting bonfires up there. Father would have disowned me much quicker if he’d known about that.” Diego shrugs. “Those times were great for loosening up and screaming until my lungs hurt.”

“Screaming?” Only a tad baffled by the mental image, I give him a perplexed look.

“That’s right,” he instantly responds as if it’s something I should be familiar with, “how else does a teenage boy let out all his rage without bashing his father’s skull in?”

“So you just… went up into the hills and screamed?”

“What, does that not sound appealing to you?” Diego appears equally puzzled. “Don’t you ever feel like letting it all out?”

“Of course I do.” In fact, the idea of screaming into a void until my voice is gone has oddly interested me for years now, but the logistics of being able to do such a thing feel more complicated than its worth. “But I’d prefer not to alarm people.”

“Nevermind that!” Diego rolls his eyes and takes a couple steps away from me. “Look, I’ll do it right now.”

“Diego, don’t! There’s people around here, they’ll think you’re being eaten alive or falling to your death or something.” My anxiety is quickly bubbling up as I watch him teasingly bring a hand up to rest next to his face, as if he’s about to yodel his heart out.

“I’m not going to scream in pain,” he scoffs. “Relax.”

With that, Diego straightens up, takes a deep breath, and lets out the loudest sound I have ever heard him make. It’s less a scream and more an enthusiastic shout, echoing against the thick sandstone pillars and blending seamlessly with the strong breeze. There’s only a couple people up here with us, but they pay him no mind beyond a quick glance. When my own concern fades, I’m instead taken with how beautiful he is in this moment, blonde hair blowing in the wind, face alight with pure joy, chest heaving as he takes another deep breath to recover. 

“See?” He directs his attention back to me, flashing a victorious smile and dismissively waving his hands in the air. “Nothing to it. No harm done. Now it’s your turn.”

“Absolutely not.” Even as I fold my arms in defiance, Diego grapples for my hands and cocks his head, a pout pulling at his lips. “Diego, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Beyond sheer embarrassment, I suppose I don’t have a good reason. As I chew on my lip in thought, he continues trying to persuade me.

“I swear it’s fine, darling. Just think about how good it would feel.”

“I just don’t see the point –”

“Look.” Diego tugs his aviators off his face again and folds them, hooking them on the collar of his tank top. He’s likely trying to ease my worry by looking at me directly, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t working at least a little bit. “Imagine you’re back at work. Think about how frustrating it is, how hard they work you, how belittling it is.”

“I thought we were on vacation.” It’s partly an attempt to change the direction of this exchange.

“Shh, listen.” He quickly dismisses my questioning. “Just think about it, genuinely. Mull it over.” Diego pauses as I do just that, eyes scanning my face for a moment. “How does it feel?”

“Well, it pisses me off, of course.”

“Right. So take that,” he juts his thumb out towards the landscape, “and unleash it. When will you get another chance to do that?”

I hate that he has a point. “Probably not for a very long time.” 

Without another word, Diego steps back and gestures broadly towards the endless horizon, inviting me to do exactly what he’d previously demonstrated. Granted, it takes me a fair amount of mental preparation, but eventually I swallow back the anxiety filling my throat and cup both hands around my mouth, unleashing a booming yell that houses a mixture of largely pent-up emotions. 

Diego stares at me with satisfaction, both for knowing he was correct and for watching the stress practically melt off of me. It’s a shame I have my gaze fixed on the sky as I recover from my emotional release, because Diego’s expression is one of total affection, almost as if he’s so transfixed by me that he’s been rendered speechless all over again.

I take one more deep breath and turn on my heel to face him, shrugging in defeat. “Alright. You were right. Again.”

“It’s a wonder why you even question me anymore.” Diego returns to my side, embraces me again and presses a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

“Thank you, Diego. For all of this.”

“Anything for my beloved. I assume you’re satisfied?”

“God, yeah.” I turn my head, resting my cheek against his shoulder and staring out into the desert again. “I don’t think anything could make this any more perfect.”

Diego hums happily and shifts slightly, but his embrace doesn’t falter. Maybe, if I hadn’t chosen to admire the horizon, I’d have caught the way he’d reached into his pocket as if to grab something. But the action is one of hesitation, ultimately going nowhere.

For our last night at the resort, Diego has dinner delivered again. Our bodies are exhausted even after a refreshing shower, so we decide to relax outside by the firepit for the remainder of the night. The sky is starting to darken and my eyelids are getting heavy, but Diego fills the evening air with commentary on the flurry of pictures we’d taken on our hike. He seems quite pleased with the entire experience, face alight with excitement as he expresses his desire to show his coworkers when he returns to work. Eventually, though, he tucks his phone away and silence settles between us.

“Should we turn in for the night?” I ask, noting the way he’s already sitting up straight and swiveling in his seat to face me. “I’m exhausted.”

“Why the rush? I haven’t had a chance to give you your birthday gift.”

When I thump my head back against my chair, he chuckles. “Is that not what this entire trip has been?”

“Part of it, yes. Now, promise me you won’t shove me into the pool again.”

“Do I have a choice?” His smirk tells me no. 

In one quick motion, Diego brandishes a sealed envelope from his robe, holding it tightly between his pointer and middle finger as he extends it towards me with a confident quirk of one eyebrow.

I groan, begrudgingly taking the gift. “You have to learn that I hate surprises.”

“Relax,” Diego croons. “It’s not as if I left you hanging for days, you can’t pin this irritation on your anxiety.”

I have half a mind to tell him off for psychoanalyzing me, but it’s clear he’s joking. Gift anxiety be damned, I hesitantly slip my finger in the envelope’s gap and tug until its seal is broken. Diego watches intently, eager to experience my joy; sometimes I’m shocked he doesn’t film me when I receive his gifts.

If he ever had, this would have been a prime opportunity. As soon as I see the beginnings of the concert tickets held inside, my jaw drops and my hands still.

“You didn’t –” I start, only to be interrupted.

“They aren’t the best seats, unfortunately, but I know how badly you’ve wanted to see them live.” 

I could have foregone this entire trip, all the experiences we’ve shared over the past couple days, every expensive meal and dip in our private pool. All of it feels meaningless right now as I hold two tickets to Arctic Monkeys in my unworthy hands. 

“Diego, holy shit.” My body acts on its own, rising to my feet and crossing the short distance between our chairs only to straddle his waist and cup his face in my hands. “Kiss me.”

Thoroughly pleased with the reception, Diego grins and fulfills my wish. A brief lapse in contact only occurs when I realize I’ve left the envelope in my seat, anxiously glancing over to make sure it’s still resting there, unaffected by the slight breeze.

“I hope you noticed,” Diego takes the opportunity to further impress me. “It’s on the date of our anniversary. It’s as if Alex himself knew.”

“God, I love you,” I reiterate, as if my actions haven’t said it enough. 

Diego returns the sentiment, clutching me tight against his chest. “I went through hell to get those. Tried to get better seats by appealing to Alex directly but the bloke wouldn’t answer my DMs.” A smidgen of disdain laces his tone.

“As stubborn as you are, there’s no way that would have worked, Dee.” 

“You’d think he’d have the decency to answer an old friend, but,” Diego heavily sighs, “seems fame does things to people.”

Not this again. Since the day we first bonded over a mutual love of the band, Diego’s been insistent on previously meeting Alex at a show. This alone is fairly believable, but the man always takes it one step further, claiming he’d actually befriended the frontman ages ago. Much as he rarely admits to admiring anyone, Alex Turner clearly holds a very special place in Diego’s heart; one that, while completely one-sided, seems to hint at his attraction to the vocalist as well.

“You wanted to rekindle your romance,” I tease him, letting my voice rise as if telling an age-old love story. “I get it, that’s your real motive.”

“Come off it,” Diego scoffs against my shoulder and cuddles closer as if to prove otherwise. “I’ll admit he’s a good-looking man but clearly he has no interest in me.”

“Well, he’s missing out, but hey.” I lift my head to give him a genuine smile. “That means I get you all to myself.”

Diego can’t hide the hint of pink spreading across his cheeks, he’s properly flustered and it’s quite cute how he averts his stare for a moment and purses his lips.

“Now please tell me that’s all you’re going to throw at me, I’m not sure how much more I can handle.” It’s mostly a joke, but the sheer amount of things he’s done for me this weekend is starting to feel overwhelming. 

“I did have one last thing planned, but it seems you’re not interested in your last gift.” Diego dramatically pouts. There’s a glint still ever-present in his eyes, though I never would have needed the hint anyway.

“And what might that be?” Cocking my head in mock curiosity causes his previous pout to curl up into a sly smile.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

Fingertips playfully gliding across his neck, I list off my predictions with as sultry a tone as I can pull off. “Couldn’t possibly be this overactive mouth of yours.” A gentle tap against his bottom lip punctuates my guess.

“Perhaps.” Diego watches me intently, voice barely above a whisper.

“Or,” I continue, dragging my other palm against the thin fabric of his shirt. “Maybe you’ll let me look at you all night.”

“I think you might be getting warmer, but be careful.” He squeezes my thigh. “Guess incorrectly and you might get nothing.”

“Please, I know you better than that.” I finally reach the subject of my final guess, palming his crotch over his linen joggers. “I’m sure you’d like to get me in bed.”

Diego lowly chuckles and shifts slightly in his seat, clearly affected by the simplicity of my touch. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yeah. When do I get my reward?”

As if my words have given him the exact signal he’d been waiting for, Diego’s arms curl around my waist and he pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Right now.”

Increased strength from his stand aids him in fully picking me up when he rises from his seat, but he takes a quick second to grasp the previously abandoned envelope. It gets tossed somewhere amidst our luggage when we make it inside, and he wastes no time in placing me gently atop the mattress of the suite’s indoor bed. The robe he’d been wearing quietly thumps to the floor as he quickly closes the minuscule distance between us.

“How would you like this to play out, darling?” His voice is sweet, signifying his desire to fully please me this evening. His lips are less so, aggressive and wet as he covers my neck in desperate kisses.

“Surprise me,” I manage, though I’m already becoming distracted by the increasing heat filling my body. “Whatever you want, Dee.”

Diego tuts, hovering over my ear to reiterate his wishes. “Nevermind me, go ahead. I want to please you.”

As hard as it is sometimes to allow myself to indulge in his worship, I remind myself that this weekend is for me, that he’d likely planned this specific moment way ahead of time.

“Kiss me.” It’s likely not the answer he expected, but Diego wastes no time in following my instruction.

Quiet settles between us, Diego moving to hover over my body, his palms taking their place against the sheets on either side of my head. Both our eyes flutter closed as I feel his hair tickling my cheeks, his warm breath following suit before he kisses me with zeal. His flaxen mane makes the perfect spot for my fingers to glide and further spur him on, not that he needs the encouragement.

This tender moment lasts for a few minutes, but Diego never can resist the quickness with which he hungers for more. Having his fill of my lips, he begins descending and pressing wet open-mouthed kisses across my neck only to be interrupted by the fabric of my t-shirt. Diego softly clicks in his tongue in slight frustration but the hem is quickly lifted to accommodate one of his palms pressing flat against my stomach. I shimmy from underneath him, allowing his hand to tug the garment upwards until my chest is fully exposed to him. A groan sounds from deep within his throat at the sight of me as his lips continue their original mission. 

Worshiping my body seems to be his mission tonight, and he knows exactly where I want him. His tongue teases one of my nipples, flicking and dragging across the quickly hardening bud only to pull it tight between his lips, suckling with enthusiasm. I have my hands still gripping loosely on his hair as I fail to resist the sounds of pleasure spilling from my lips. 

Diego pulls off my breast with an exaggerated pop and nuzzles his cheek across the soaked surface. “My sweet girl,” he coos, “I can smell you.”

His heightened senses never fail to make my body ache with desire. There’s something so arousing in knowing he’s keenly aware of my scent, my need to feel him between my legs, whether it’s his face or his cock doesn’t matter. Diego makes a show of slowly backing up until he’s standing at the foot of the bed, fully illuminated by the warm glow of the sunset leaking into the bedroom. When he grasps the underside of my thighs and pulls me closer I giggle, spreading my legs only to lock him in an embrace. 

“You’re soaked through.” Diego firmly places his palm against my clothed lower half, as if to confirm his observation. Of course he’s correct, my breath hitches in my throat at his touch and he smiles lasciviously at the effect he so easily has on me.

Slowly and sensually, Diego unties the loosely tied cord of my joggers. His fingertips are warm and nimble as they hook into the waistband, gradually tugging the bottoms down and off my legs. Before they’ve even hit the floor he already has one hand peeling the hem of my underwear down to follow suit. The chilly air makes me shiver as he presses both palms to my inner thighs, spreading me far enough for my lower half to be fully exposed just for him. 

Obscenity practically radiates off of him in the way he licks his lips and hungrily eyes me. He takes a deep whiff of the air and shakily exhales, my scent filling his nostrils so fully that he quivers with arousal. 

“I’ve ached for you all day, love.” Diego flicks his gaze up to stare salaciously into my eyes for a brief moment. “I constantly crave you, I want you every minute of every day.” He presses his thumb against his lips and gives it a generous coating of spit only to distribute it onto my clit in a circular motion. 

I moan desperately, lifting my hips in an effort to achieve more friction. “Diego, please.”

“You’re so cute when you beg,” Diego coos, “s’pose there’s no sense in wasting time.”

Diego drops to his knees and breathes hot against my wetness. Fiery sunlight sets his hair beautifully ablaze while his tongue works its magic, the softness of the wind perfectly accentuates the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth as he devours me like a man starved. God, he’s incredible; I’ve known this since the first time he’d gone down on me months ago, but even still, every single time feels like a religious experience. 

My body is already showing all the signs of oncoming release, but Diego is way ahead of me. He growls against me and rises to his feet, eagerly slipping his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His joggers and underwear quickly follow, his cock springing upwards and slapping wetly against his skin. I’m dangerously close and even the simple sight of him threatens to push me over the edge. Diego takes his place above me again, assertive in the way he kisses me and laps up into my mouth. We share moans that get lost between each other's lips when his clock glides across my clit.

“Oh, I can’t take it much longer,” Diego pants, though his hips continue bucking against mine.

“Fuck me,” I beg, grappling at the nape of his neck. “I need you inside me right now.”

Unable to deny me even a little bit, Diego reaches between us and presses his tip to my entrance. His breath shudders as he easily slips inside me and his eyes roll back with pure ecstasy when he plunges himself to the hilt. A slow thrust drives me to whine and softly plead, his name delicious as it rolls off my tongue. 

Diego fucks me without abandon, huffing desperately and growling with every thrust of his hips. It takes only a few seconds for him to rise to his knees, momentarily hooking his arms around my thighs to tug me closer against his crotch before gripping the sides of my waist and moving my body to accommodate every snap of his hips. This is how I like him best, chest fully visible, pecs coated in a light sheen of sweat, head rolling back while he moans and mumbles my name like an obscene prayer. With a heavy gulp he returns his attention to me, locking his eyes with mine and furrowing his brow in an unspoken warning of his oncoming orgasm.

The force and speed of his thrusts increase and my gaze stays fixed on him, not knowing where to focus my attention. As he drags a hand through his already tousled hair the monogram necklace adorning his neck glints in the glow of the sunset; another wave of pure pleasure wracks my body at the realization that he’s mine, I’m his, that his body so perfectly serves me, that his soul is so intimately entangled with mine.

Diego groans, hips stuttering until he knows it’s only a matter of time. He resists for as long as possible, but ultimately slips out from me and tightly grasps his cock. “Fuck, I’m –”

It takes only a few pumps of his fist before he spills out across my chest, hot and thick and punctuated by an animalistic groan. He’s still eager to fuck me, wasting no time in sliding inside me again and studying me closely as he fucks me through the remainder of his orgasm, his thumb again paying close attention to my most sensitive spot.

I feel the coiling of my core, my toes curl and my thighs clamp tightly against him when it hits me. As I grasp desperately at his forearms, he stays sheathed inside me and moans at the feeling of my walls tightly holding him in place. Only when I’ve fully felt the force of every second of my release does he slowly slip out from me and descend once more. His hands find mine, pressing them down against the sheets as he lovingly laces our fingers together. This time our kisses are more gentle, his tenderness returning to care for me in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

Inevitably, exhaustion takes over and Diego rolls to rest on his back, chest still gently heaving as I follow his lead and drape myself across his stomach. His lips are parted to accommodate his labored breath, his eyes are equally expressing his fatigue but they still light up when he meets my gaze. As if pulled by some invisible force, our hands find each other again, perfectly fitting together as we both squeeze; mine is something akin to a wordless ‘thank you’, and I think his might be ‘my pleasure’.

I take a deep breath, letting the chilly desert air fill my lungs as I press my cheek tight against his still damp skin. Gently peppered kisses draw a pleased sigh from Diego’s mouth; there’s nothing but fondness present on his face as he brushes a hand through my hair.

“It’s good every single time,” I decide to praise him, claiming the smile that pulls at his lips as a reward. “You’re amazing, Dee. Unhinged, but amazing.”

“I know.” Diego curls his lip further to reveal one sharp canine. 

The gloating is so classically Diego that I can’t even be annoyed by it. Instead I blow a raspberry against his stomach and revel in the scoff it pulls from him. There’s enough strength in my body now for me to lift myself and crawl closer to him; I press my forehead against his and giggle softly at the way he nudges my nose with his own.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips. “Thank you.”

Diego quietly returns the sentiment, only audible to me and just barely-so. I wrap my arms around him, tugging him into a tight hug that further transitions into our bare bodies pressed flush against each other, limbs entangled in an intimate embrace. I’m unsure how many times we softly express our love for each other in this moment, but eventually sleep takes us as the star-littered sky bathes us in moonlight.

Unfortunately, all trips must come to an end, and leaving the comfort of our suite is no easy task. Diego’s final gift to me comes in the form of breakfast in bed which he lovingly offers me after waking me up with a kiss to my forehead. He quickly chows down on his own meal then leaves me to relax while he packs up our belongings. One last shower is shared between the two of us before we finally head out.

The drive to the airport is relatively quiet aside from Diego’s usual singing. I’ve started to drift off again, but suddenly he’s stopped the car along the largely empty road, excitedly staring out his window. Without looking at me he reaches over to gently shake my shoulder to make sure I’m awake.

“Darling. Look.” 

Groggily, I sit up straight and glance out his window, immediately understanding his sudden need to stop driving. Resting atop the base of a small butte just a few feet away from the road sits a lizard with orange and black beaded skin.

“Oh my god,” I mumble, as if the creature will somehow hear me from in our car, “is that…”

“A gila monster.”

Diego tries to suppress his excitement, carefully pulling off to the side of the road, all the while maintaining a fixed stare on the lizard he’s been so adamant about spotting this entire trip. This is the most cautious I think I’ve ever seen him; as soon as he exits the car he’s practically tip-toeing towards the animal, slowly pulling his phone from his pocket and snapping a photo when he’s close enough.

I watch from my seat, but when he starts to gesture for me to join him I can’t bring myself to say no. He hands his phone off to me, a wordless request that I quickly understand. Without disturbing the lizard, he crouches down and faces me, gesturing towards it with one thumb as his face lights up with exhilaration. 

I take several photos of him until he waves me closer again and takes his phone back. This time, he pulls me to crouch down with him, making sure to include me in the photo as well. The gila monster is visible from between us, though still far enough back that we don’t disturb it. Diego is giddy as we rush back to the car, immediately erupting into a flurry of excited laughter as soon as he settles back into his seat.

“Finally…” He flips through the photos and stops at the image of both of us. “We can officially call this trip a complete success.”

“I knew you had some kind of ulterior motive,” I tease him, reaching over to affectionately pat his cheek. “Turns out you just wanted to see some lizard.”

“Please.” Diego presses a quick kiss to my palm. “This is just the icing on the cake.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you.” When I lean closer he follows my lead, gradually closing the distance until he’s whispering against my lips.

“And I love it.”

Sometime amidst our flurry of kisses, the gila monster slinks away as if understanding a bit of privacy might be necessary. Sure, maybe with this detour the drive takes a little longer than expected, and maybe we have less free time before our flight back home, but it’s worth it to indulge for just a little while longer in the vast desert that will forever encapsulate a myriad of unforgettable memories.

[edensrose]

“If I see you with them again, I’ll kill them” with Yan! Thranduil?

-this is the earlier yandere anon, is it okay if I be asked to be called Yanon <I thought it’d be funny

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ yandere!thranduil ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. it was an innocent dance with an old friend of yours, the last thing you expected was the madness of your husband ( yandere themes ៸៸ possessive & obsessive behaviour ៸៸ hints at violence ៸៸ toxic relationship ៸៸ dark themes in general, viewer discretion advised )

· ⊰ note. of course, welcome yanon <3 this was really enjoyable to write since it's more on the eery side haha. hope y'all enjoy, Sindarin translations are in the comments

He was impossibly kind, astonishing in both smile and personality. A wise soul whom you had the privilege of befriending during your time in Mirkwood. Gentle hues glimmered ten times that of the starry heavens. Selfless, benignant. . . 

But he was not Thranduil. 

Perhaps a part of you was thankfully for that. The part of you which longed for normality, sanity, within this life you have come to lead. And it was that very part that would be forced down, ridiculed and guilt-tripped until it doubted its desire for what others could consider a given. 

“Is something troubling you, Rîs nin?’’ “Hmm?” 

The tender whisper pulls you from the void of countless thoughts as you find those shimmering irises once more and present a smile. “Have I not told you to simply refer to me by name?” “Are you not my queen?” Swaying within a turn according to the music, you catch his swift glance towards the king, your husband: Thranduill Oropherion.

He had occupied himself that evening when Feren strode over to express his concern for the more-than-gradual increase of shelob wandering further into your lands, to which you excused yourself and stood on the sidelines. . . that was until an old friend offered a dance and seeing as though Thranduil appeared preoccupied with the newfound issue, you accept. 

It was simply a dance, after all. A mere courtesy of the festivities. Besides, your beloved was busy, he most likely would not even notice. 

“I was your friend long before I gained that title,’’ soft and gentle were your words and although you knew it was said in a jesting manner, you couldn’t help the drop of tone, your voice fading into nothing but a faint whisper. For it was that very title that bound you, body, heart and soul to the one they call the elvenking. That title, having only been obtained through marriage, clearly signified that you belonged to him 一

‘Only mine.’

You almost sprung from your skin, only to realise that the voice was a linger of the imagination. Nothing but a memory, a nightmare. 

“If it upset you I shall refrain, Y/N.’’ 

Upon glancing up you take notice of the newfound concern slipping into his gaze as Eliedir spins you once more. “However, it would cost an explanation. You are not yourself, won’t you allow an old friend to be of aid?” It left your brows dipping, expression twitching and threatening to expose all your deepest emotions. But you bite your tongue, tasting the dullness of ichor and swallowing its metallic essence along with any confessions of the truth you nearly spilt.

“It is nothing, mellon nin.’’ 

He draws you out to arms’ length only to gingerly tug you back at a particular beat of the song. “I’d appreciate it if you spared me your lies, mellon nin.’’ Returning the affectionate name with evident earnestness. “Is it so severe that you cannot confide in even me?” You gulp, avoiding his glimmering eyes which sought to stare into your very soul until he eased an answer from you. 

“Well?” The elf sighs, angling his head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of your irises. “I’m simply worried for y -”

“Meleth nin.’’ 

For a moment you chalked it up to another illusion, a trick of the mind 一 but when Eliedir halted in step and released you of his prior hold, you knew all too well that the daydream was over along with the glimmers of heaven,

as hell’s flames now emitted behind you. 

“Your majesty,’’ the elf bows at once, eyeing your hesitant turn to your husband who stands tall, menacing as ever. A shadow to consume all those below him with an expression austere and shiver-inducing. 

“Leave us.’’ 

Tone as frigid as his demeanour, Thranduil arbitrarily dismisses the second presence, yet never once relieving you of his stare. It brings tension to your muscles as a chill seeps into your joints and leaves you numb. Albeit reluctant, Eliedir nods and defects as ordered, leaving you with the one you called king and husband. 

“Must you be so curt?” “What?’’ He arches a brow and snakes his hand into yours, bringing it to his lips and ghosting a kiss over knuckles. “I wished to dance with my queen, am I so wrong for such a desire?” The emphasis on your title left you nipping at your inner cheek 一 could you even refer to it as that? If anything, it was a reminder rather than a title when on his lips. 

Yet you suck in a breath and put on the smile you rehearsed time after time. “Now, who am I to deny my king? It would be an honour.’’ You grew to learn the sweet nothings that appeased him, drenching your tone and words in delicate nectar; for telling the king what he wished to hear was far more favourable than facing the aftermath of an accidental slip of tongue. 

He smiles. Relief washes over you. It appeared that you dodged the bullet and deterred a storm. 

Wasting not a second of his time you find purchase in his shoulder whilst your free hand intertwined with his fingers 一 alternatively, he places a hold on your waist. Thus, the dance begins.

For a moment you wish to blind yourself with the fantasies of yore. The delusion of a daydream, as it is easier than facing the reality head-first. And whilst at the back of your mind you knew better than anyone that this was anything but a dream, it hurt not to fool yourself with the illusions of normality, to peer with the eyes of outsiders and see what they saw: a king and his queen, madly in love. A blooming, innocent and sweet romance. 

“You are gorgeous tonight, mîr nin, a rival to starlight itself.’’ Oh, deceive me with such honeyed utters, delude me with the sweetness of your words; you begged. For it sweetened the ache and left you on a high that numbed the truth. The actuality. The madness. 

“As do you, Aran nin.’’ You lock gazes with him, staring into those sapphires which, although he would say it was yours, mirrored that of starlight. Gorgeous, that’s what he was. And sometimes it baffled you, how someone so stunning could hold a heart so tattered and tainted. But you would not dwell on such truths, instead, you opted for suckling on those candied lies. 

And for that moment you wished it was true. You wished for the wool to be pulled over your eyes and for the illusion to be reality. 

Alas. 

you knew not of normality. 

From the corner of your vision you catch the glimpse of a disturbance accompanied by a bustling chaos. Although unwise it may be, you turn your head in favour of your curiosity and at that moment regret it entirely. The whites of your eyes extend as your lids gape at the sight of Eliedir, now seized by the arms and discreetly wrenched away by armour-cladded guards. 

And as quickly as the fantasy settled it shattered, revealing the ugly, horrid truth. 

“Eliedir!” You forget the volume of your voice and move to jerk from your husband’s hold, only to fall still like a statue when a sting encircles your wrists and reflects upon your waist. 

“Sssh, melethel.’’ The croon is so tender, so gentle, that you almost mistook it for an entirely different being to the one which entrapped you against his form, with an arm now looped around your middle and the feel of nails now tormenting your side instead. 

Caged, like a petite woodland creature. His pathetic little petal. 

“Thranduil!” Albeit lowering your tone, the whisper held panic and perfectly displayed the anxiety welled within your chest. “Thranduil, what are they doing with Eliedir? He has done no wrong. Please, let me speak with them.’’ You should have known better, known him better. For when the rumble of his chuckle vibrated against you, it took longer than it should’ve to realise the truth. 

And when it finally settled? You trembled. Hoping and praying to Eru himself that you thought wrong, perhaps your ears deceived you of that dark and twisted, familiar snicker. 

You had no such luck.

“My love, did you think I would simply allow any man to touch what is mine?” 

Your heart froze and in that same second, thumped against your ribcage directly after. As if it sought to escape and run, hide and crawl into a hole where you would be safe from this darkness. And the longer realisation was left to soak into your mind, the further you understood to what extent Thranduil’s madness truly ran. 

“No,’’ a breathy plea accompanied by the faintest of head-shakes as your chin is brought to his shoulder. “No, no.’’ You repeat, voice hoarse from the newfound burn in your lungs. “Thranduil, I’m sorry. It was me, please -” A whimper interrupts your slew of begs and apologies at the feel of his nails now breaking skin. And despite the hand that leaves your wrist to instead cup the back of your head, everything appears normal. Just a king and his queen dancing along to the melodies of harps and flutes. 

“You worry for him to such degree. . . One would think he’s of utmost importance. Is he?” Fingers find your hair in gentle strokes, contrasting his jarring tone. “Is he more important than a dance with your husband?” 

You can answer not. Either way, it was a shot to the foot. An answer that appeased him would put you under the potential accusation of deceit and the obvious truth would cost you a peaceful night; no, a week. 

So instead you opt for silence, unsure of how to answer him whilst your mind raced for some sort of way to save your friend from the fate you feared. 

“Worry not.’’ What was that? You fall still, a sense of serenity easing over you at his next words. “His life is safe. . .’’ 一 and just like that, it drained. “For now.’’ 

Breath and voice lodged in the base of your throat, you merely allow the king to sway with you as though he hadn’t ordered for the detainment of an innocent elf nor hung his life above your head. 

“But if I see you with him again. . .’’ The chilling sensation finds your temple as Thranduil turns his head to press a kiss, sickeningly sweet, to your skin as you bite back a sob. 

“I will kill him.’’

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Mended. J.M.K

Author’s Note: This story holds alot of my own bullshit from my past and kind of my journey back to self acceptance and letting go of what had been done to me. I'm hoping you guys enjoy my story, I've been wanting to move this pain into art and something that doesn't just belong to me anymore.

Requests:

Anon:

From the prompts, can u do something with Josh using: “ when i am near you, i finally know how it feels to breathe without worry, without caution. i just feel safe with you… “Like the reader had been in a toxic relationship prior to meeting Josh and when she feels how comfortable he makes her feel she confesses this quote to him??? And the whole thing is all fluffy and heartfelt🥺🥰😍😭 thank u sis for feeding us so well😩😩😩

And this Anon as well, I sort of added them to the pot!

Anon:Ok I’m shy but here I go😭🙈

Can you do something with the prompt:

“Just do what feels good baby, there’s no rush…”

Like maybe it’s her first time ✨riding✨ him and he’s kinda helping her and encouraging her? Something along those lines🥰

I kind of combined both of these requests for this fic!

Synopsis: After being with your boyfriend for so long, the two of you find yourselves sharing a long awaited first time.

Word Count: 6.2k (bit of a breeze eh?)

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Very very fluffy, very sweet, very smutty. Foul language, oral, mentions of past sexual absuse and sexual trauma. (Wrap it before you tap your beautiful boyfriend)

Mended. J.M.K

Guilt is the only word you can use to explain the feeling you're experiencing. Laying here in the dark of the shared bed of your apartment. The curly hair of your boyfriend between your fingers as you mindlessly run your hand over his head as he sleeps beside you, he is peacefully asleep as he faces you, he'd fallen asleep mid conversation, something about a camping trip he took in Tennessee.

You've been tightly wound, that much is for certain. The feeling of having a weight on your chest, unable to breathe freely without the tension in your lungs was no way to live. There was a time before Josh, but those times were not kind ones. You thank God for getting you out of the place you were in and finally into the solace of the warm and awaiting arms of a man who truly cares for you. Your ex had fucked you up in more ways than one, screwing with your perception of reality, love and your own self worth. He was also your first real boyfriend you'd ever had, how were you supposed to know that wasn't how relationships were supposed to be?

That was years ago, but now, even with Josh, you find yourself lost in your own mind. Worried about his words having double meaning, about texting him back promptly and accurately, not letting your guard down completely even though he has never given you any indication to be anything like your ex. What is wrong with me? You'd curse yourself, laying next to the man next to you, asleep and softly snoring beside you. You gaze at his sleeping form, chest rising and falling perfectly, his lips parted gently, eyes closed, lulled away in a dream. You've told Josh tidbits of your ex before, but never any of the real gritty stuff. He knows your intimate life prior was a bit messy, but he doesn't know the full scope. He's such a ray of pure starlight and the idea of even bringing in that rain cloud you’ve tried so hard to get rid of into this new relationship sounds like an actual nightmare.

He would never judge you, you know that, but would he see you differently? Like the broken doll you feel like? You've been dating Josh for almost a year now and you've hardly been intimate. You two just call it, "taking it slow,” doing everything but full on intercourse. He's incredibly patient and kind about it all, when he asks you if you want to keep going in the midst of passionate kisses and heavy petting, when you ultimately say "no," when you think you're ready but one slight pain or awkward angle that hurts, you break into tears, falling into a near panic attack, even through all of your obvious signs of sexual trauma, his expression never falters. He never sighs. Never complains. Never calls you a "tease" or tries to push you to "just do something for me." Instead he simply says, "Okay baby. You want to cuddle? We could watch a movie or something?" Or something along those lines. At first it shocked you, didn't all men get annoyed when you didn't want to fuck? Your heart would swell with love, like the idea of just understanding your withdrawl from sex without making you feel like shit was somehow so foreign to you, it felt like a rose in his hand rather than the dagger of what you've come to understand as basic human decency.

The thought of Josh leaving you for someone who would actually sleep with him broke your heart. He'd never do it, but could you blame him? Your eyes well up with tears. He chose a broken girl, unable of knowing how to love him because she's never known anything else. The past months feel like a lifetime of learning everything. He loves you with all he knows how but yet you cannot help yourself from keeping him at arms length, unable to give yourself over fully with your past holding you back. You sniffle a cry, staring up at the ceiling, heart racing as you can feel your face heat up with frustration and pain. Josh deserves better.

You choke on a sob too loudly, you can feel Josh stir next to you and you immediately wipe your tears away, hoping he falls back asleep, that you could disappear into the darkness of your bedroom. "Hey, hey what's wrong?" Josh's voice is like an arrow to your heart, he always brings you so much comfort but with your racing thoughts you can't help but feel the gut wrenching pain at the thought of him seeing you like this, weak and undeserving. All you can simply do is shake your head, wishing this whole scenario away, not wanting to fall into this deep pit tonight like this. "Baby, it's okay." His voice still deep and raspy from sleep, he caresses your cheek, swiping your tears away with the soft pad of his thumb. Your mouth waters from your state of anguish, searching for the words to say but you can't even look at him. "I don't deserve you." You choke out, staring at the ceiling hoping that avoiding his stare won't make you crack in half.

Josh sits up at your statement, you look at him fearfully, tears streaming from your face as you look at his beauty under the dark of your bedroom, the moonlight that peers inside coasting down his body, illuminating his face, he looks confused, hurt almost. "Why would you think that?" He says with almost a hint of amusement at how ridiculous the whole thing sounds. "I just don't think I'm worth your love. Like, I'm so far gone, everything I've been through has been too much-" "Stop, what are you talking about?" He cuts you off, his face scanning yours, looking for an answer. You sit up and just look at him with tears in your eyes. "You deserve someone who isn't broken." You whisper, your bottom lip twitching as more tears stream down your face. He only reaches his hands out and holds your face in his hands, "You are my everything. I don't want anyone else, baby. I only want you." He speaks so sweetly, almost as though he too is on the verge of tears, he's cradling you in his hands, his eyes big and brown, looking at you like he's holding the galaxy in his eyes.

You let out a shaky breath, sniffling and bringing your hands up to hold his hands on your hands, holding them against your face. "Why would you think you're broken?" His voice just above a whisper as he runs his thumb against your skin, catching a teardrop and running it across your cheek. You take in a breath, searching for the strength to speak, to say the ugliest parts of your history, of you. "You know that my ex put me through a lot." You start, looking to see if he understands, he simply nods, his brows knit, ready to solve whatever quandary you present. "You just show me so much love and kindness I've never felt before. When I am near you, I finally know how it feels to breathe without worry, without caution. I just feel safe with you. You are just too good for me, I feel like I'm holding you back, like you have to hold my hand through basic shit." You're voice catches and you're on the edge of crying again, "I just feel stupid, like I can't even have sex without crying or freaking out, like what the fuck is wrong with me?!" Josh's hands fall to your shoulders, holding you tightly, "Nothing is wrong with you baby-" "Yes, there is!" Your voice rings out, bouncing off the walls until the silence is too much to bear. Josh looks at you with a face of subtle shock, lips parted, brow knit, fearful of what comes next in your story.

"My ex, he, um… he just, he pressured me to do things I didn't want to. I thought I was ready but I wasn't, and he would just make me feel awful about it. Pushing through the pain even when I said-" your voice fails, you can't even say the words, and Josh's hands only run up your arms, patient as always, waiting for you to say only what you want to. "Like I should want to do these things, because if not then, I didn't really love him-" "I will always love you. You know I would never-" "I know you wouldn't. I know you would never treat me like he did. I just… I'm sorry I can't just be normal, I…" You can't find the words, you scan over his beautiful face, full of concern and worry over you. "I will wait until the end of time for you, to wait until you're ready. I will never grow tired of you, you mean so much more than just sex to me, and I'm so sorry you’ve ever felt that way. You never have to apologize for that." His eyes search yours, your tears dried by his hands, his voice genuine and kind as he speaks only makes your heart swirl with so much love, it's practically dizzying. "You are worth the wait. You are worth all of it."

You smile at him with tears in your eyes, all you can do is smile and look at him, he smiles back at you. His hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear has you grinning like an idiot. He really is everything to you, not that you ever doubted it, he is just so full of love, you only want to show him as much love as he shows to you. He leans in and kisses your cheek, "I love you so much." He whispers against your cheek, you smile wide and hold him in your hand, he leans into your touch as you speak, "I love you so much, Josh." You whisper back, your hands bring him to you, kissing him sweetly.

His lips feel like they can erase all your pain by their plushness alone, his hands on you feel like they can set every broken bone with just his touch, his words waving away every insecurity with just a well thought out phrase. He is everything. The sun and the stars, the way you gravitate towards him like a celestial body, and celestial he is. Angelic in every way, the face of a cherub, body of a God, voice of a poet and hands of a sculptor, and in this moment, all you want is to be his clay.

He kisses you once more on your lips, a smacking smooch like a cartoon character, Popeye kissing Olive Oyl. His hands holding your face still as he places kisses all over your face, you grin at his kindness, his overenthusiastic pecks placed all over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and the crown of your head, and all the while you can't stop the bubbling laughter in your chest that only Josh can bring out in you. He watches you with a softened expression and a smile that could melt any icy cold heart. "I love your laugh, I never want to be without your smile." He whispers, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek. "I love you." You simply reply, he beams at you, "I love you." He says just above a whisper, his eyes searching yours and just like that, the feeling in the air turns.

The mood shifts and it's like it's only you two together. Alone in the universe together while the rest of the world outside sleeps soundly. Nothing to do, nowhere to go and more importantly, nowhere else to be besides right here, sat crisscrossed on your bed with the love of your life. You let your hands travel to his face, mimicking the movement he made on your own skin, letting your thumb trace over his cheekbone. The air is tight with tension, threatening to crush you both. You watch as his own eyes watch you, taking in every crease, freckle, and scar, memorizing your face as though he were to turn around and paint it by memory. Your heart yearns for him, even with him this close to you, you want all of him, encapsulating your senses, overwhelming your mind and occupying every space you can offer for him, and him alone. The pull of your lips gravity has the two of you slowly leaning forward, achingly slow, moving into a kiss and even as your lips meet, it takes you by surprise. You could never forget what Josh’s lips feel like even in a million years, and yet, this kiss feels different.

It’s like moving in slow motion but in the best way, taking the time to feel him against your own lips, to breathe him in, to feel his curls in between your fingers, to feel the warmth of his body radiate into yours, the whole scene is unlike anything you two had ever shared before. You crave him, you want him like the earth needs the sun. Josh’s hands move to cradle the back of your head while his other hand maintains its hold against your jaw. Your hand in his curls grasp at his tresses, earning a low and unwithheld groan from Josh. Your hold on him leads him to lay back down to the sheets of your bed, he rests his body just over yours, lost in your kiss you begin to realize that the unwelcome anxiety you feel whenever you and Josh are intimate, has yet to show up. Instead, a sort of forward boldness takes over you, you bring up your bare leg over Josh’s hip, feeling already how hard he’s growing against you.

Your nails run over his back as you lay a hand on his shoulder, bringing him to lay more of himself on you. Josh pulls gently away from the kiss, “What do you want, sweet girl?” He asks in a husky tone, an iteration of the question he almost always starts with when things start getting sensual, always wanting you to know that nothing happens unless you ask for it, never wanting to push you. The question makes your heart flutter as you feel not even an ounce of worry, fear of embarrassment or nervous energy that usually clouds your mind. Usually your answer is very specific, never wanting to go too far as to save yourself from a panic attack or fit of tears. You smile against his lips, “I want you.” You say with a raspy tone of confidence, Josh smiles back at you, never having seen you this way, but he still knows to tread lightly. “You have me.” His voice rolls deeply and sweetly into the darkness of your bedroom.

He embraces you in a passionate kiss, his hand traveling up your sleepshirt, resting on your waist, his heat radiating into your body. You roll your hips against him, looking for some sort of friction for your already wet heat between your legs. He brings his hips down to meet yours, the thin material of his boxers and your panties leaving little for the both of you to imagine. His hand travels down your side and rests above the waistband of your panties. You moan breathlessly at just the feeling of his hand so close to you, his eyes look to you, searching for a sign to stop, but he finds only a simple nod from you, urging him to carry on. He kisses you on the cheek, his lips lingering on your blushing skin as his hand goes past the fabric and to your aching pussy.

His fingers run up your folds, accumulating your arousal on his digits, before coming to your clit, his middle and ring fingers slowly and gently swirl against the bud. You sigh at the sensation, "You like that baby?" Josh teases, gauging your reaction, still going easy on you. You smile drunkenly at the feeling, "Yes," your reply sounding more like a breath of air than your own voice. He smirks that ever stunning smirk, only making you wetter. He kisses your cheek, down your jaw and finally burying his face into your neck, placing wet and open mouthed kisses against your skin, hot against his lips. "You deserve it baby, to feel this good." He articulates between kisses, his voice and hand alone could throw you over the edge if he kept this up. You whine under him, so gentle and loving, thinking only of you. Your hand comes to the back of his head, holding him to you, almost praying he doesn’t move from his place, cradled in the crook of your neck beside you, his tongue teases at the muscle between your neck and shoulder

“I want your mouth, baby.” You whine into his ear, he perks up and looks at you, drinking in the look of bliss on your face. He hums out an answer against your lips, raspy and low as he kisses you, his fingers cease their movements as he begins kissing down your neck. He sits up a moment and pulls your shirt over your body, taking it off and exposing you to the warm air around you. He resumes his trek down your neck, your collar bone, down your chest, between the valley of your breasts, his hands lingering to grasp at them as he kisses over the expanse of your stomach, his lips kissing and licking just over the waistband of your panties. “Josh, please.” You breathe, your hand finding purchase in his hair. He grins up at you, looking as though he is savoring every single second of this moment with you. He pulls down your panties, tossing them aside, still taking time to kiss up and down the inside of your thighs. Your legs are covered in goosebumps from his tender touches and soft warmth of his lips, “So wet for me.” He says quietly, his observation sounded like it was almost just for himself, he meets your eyes, never turning away as he leans into your heat, his tongue slowly licking a bold stripe up your folds and landing on your clit. You moan, your eyes never leaving his as he begins a deliciously slow pace against your clit.

Your back arches as you melt into the pleasure, your hands balling up the sheets beside you to help you funnel the incredible sensation coursing through your veins. You can’t help the bucking of your hips up into Josh’s mouth, but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You look back down to the beautiful dream of a man between your legs, his eyes closed in concentration and in sweet bliss, his lips and tongue lapping up your pussy with such passion and focus as though he were pouring his heart out to you, unable to speak with words, only his actions. He groans against you, his hips pressing into the mattress beneath him, his body begging for any stimulation makes you impossibly more turned on, the vibrations of his voice making you moan, “You taste so sweet.” He simply says between licks, he latches his lips to your clit, making you cry out in ecstasy, you bring a hand to his curls, pulling at them, earning a grunt from Josh. The look of him alone like this is bringing you closer to the edge, the blue light from the moonlight peaking through the curtains and illuminating his back muscles, rippling shoulders and elegant face as he kisses away your pain.

He begins to kitten lick at your bundle of nerves and the preassue in your lower stomach grows, “Oh Josh, oh fuck baby.” You cry out, your legs are shaking and you can’t hold back the way your thighs are tightening around Josh’s head, trembling at the way his tongue grazes against you in the best way. “Please baby, d-don’t stop, don’t stop.” You stutter out, both of your hands in Josh’s curls now as you thrust against his mouth. In a final brush of his tongue, your muscles seize up and your voice fails as your orgasm slams full force into you. You begin to quake and shudder at the feeling of his tongue, letting you ride out your orgasm. “F-uck.” You choke out before your whole body snaps, you exhale a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding until you start panting and writhing beneath Josh’s mouth and his grip on your thighs. He slows his pace down to keep you from getting overstimulated and pulling you from the beauty of your climax, your body stills as you start to float back down to earth. Josh looks up at you, lips and chin covered in your arousal, wiping it off with the back of his hand, “You feel good sweet girl?” You grin at him with a lazy smile, eyes hooded with lust as you look at him, flooded with an insatiable need for him. “Come here.” You rasp, just barely audible, he crawls up your body, the outline of his hardened shaft evident from his desire for you.

He looks at you like he’s looking at a marble statue, completely in awe of you. You are his true muse. The object of all of his affection. “I need you.” You whisper as he looks you over, his face is flushed, his heart full and threatening to break free from his chest, allowing him to present it to you on a silver platter, yours completely and utterly for the taking as you speak in earnest, “Take me, baby.” You say, your hands framing his face like he were merely a spirit, a flicker of flame, as though he’d disappear into the night if he were to slip from your grasp. He comes down to kiss you, kissing you as though you had been away for thousands of years, like this was the first kiss you had ever shared, and in a way that’s true. Now that the two of you are completely exposed and vulnerable to each other, no more secrets, no more fear, he can see you for who you truly are.

Pulling away from your kiss, Josh looks you over. “Just tell me if you want me to stop-” “I know baby.” You remind him kindly, knowing all too well how many times you’ve retreated in moments like this, but something just feels different. Better. Right. Josh removes his boxers, his fully naked body bathed in the blue light of the moon peaking in, he looks unlike you’ve ever seen him before. Josh has always been beautiful to you, but you see him with a new sort of lens, he feels like your own personal savior. This man who is so patient and caring and kind, with eyes that look at you the way no one else ever has, never had he ever seen you as anything other than the perfect creature you are, despite all of your faults. The way his toned form is bathed in the light of the stars takes your breath away, a look of adoration in his own eyes mirrors yours, you can hardly stop the words that tumble from your own lips, “I love you.” You breathe, he stares back at you, sitting back on his knees looking at you, “I love you.” His voice as soft as his expression, he makes his way up your body, holding himself above you, “Let me make you feel good.” He says sweetly, you widen your legs more for him, letting him rest on you, his hardened cock laying against your core. Just the feeling of him like this makes your breathing hitch with excitement.

You move your legs to press him closer to you, silently signaling him to move. He takes himself in his hand, running up against your arousal. You moan at just the feeling of him, the look on his face asks you silently for your permission and you answer with a quick nod, lost for words as you take in this moment. The moment before is always one of pure exhilaration and quiet excitement, relishing in the feeling of each other as he first enters you, the both of you watching with bated breath as he pushes his cock deep inside of you until he’s buried to the hilt in you. Your lips part as you and Josh exchange a sigh, releasing a collective breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Oh fuuuck." You moan lowly, your eyes closing softly at the beautiful feeling. "You like that?" Josh asks, his voice trying to push past his own desire but it still shakes with pleasure, "Yes, please baby, give it to me." You say, you sound so sure, unlike anything had ever kept you from this moment, and you were damn sure nothing was going to keep you back now.

You'd been living with this pain for so long, a hold put over your own mind from a fear that had taken root long ago, and now it was no longer a part of you. You would never give up your own power or peace of mind ever again, that piece of shit couldn't control you anymore. You are free. Free to love and to live and to show Josh just how much love you have for him.

You pull him closer to you, his pace starting to increase, giving into the feeling of pure ecstasy the two of you had built in each other's bodies. You watch as his curls bounce, so perfectly in time with every stroke of his hips, the way he feels inside you, filling up your senses in the most perfect way. Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging to pull him by the back of his head, a moan rolling from Josh's lips like the voice of an angel. "Fuck baby, you feel so good." He groans, his eyes rolling into his head as he closes his eyes, falling into the beautiful rhythm.

"I wanna ride you." You whisper, his eyes open, looking at you with a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure?" He asks, still keeping his pace, voice faltering at the promise of seeing you bounce on his cock makes his brain dizzy, knowing you'd never done it before with him. You feel a nervous tinge blush your cheeks but push past it, wanting so badly to see him at your mercy beneath you. "Please baby, I wanna make you feel good." You whine, giving him your biggest doe eyes as you bring a hand to his cheek.

Josh slows his pace and comes to a stop, he gives you a quick kiss, "You always make me feel good baby." He smiles, assuring you that you don't have to prove anything to him. "I want to." You speak in confidence as you sit up, cueing him to lay down. He rolls onto his back, giving you a look that you wish you could bottle up and hold onto forever, a look that sees through you to your very core. You straddle him, your body shaking slightly from your previous orgasm and just a hint of nervousness.

You sit down on his hardened shaft, laying against his stomach, rolling your hips against the underside of him, just getting used to your position up here. The two of you sigh from the new sensation, the feeling of him against your warm wetness only makes your heartbeat faster. You lift yourself up from him, taking him in your hand and lining him up to your awaiting entrance. "Take it slow, it's alright." Josh chimes in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, his voice and touch interrupting the anxious thoughts rambling in your head. You take in a deep breath, repeating his words in your mind as you lower yourself down onto him.

Inch by oh so sweet inch he fills you up, your legs slowly spreading to bring yourself down onto him. Josh moans out at the feeling, stretching you out in a way you've both never felt in each other before. You take a moment before sitting completely on him, his dick buried inside you so deeply you can feel him against your cervix. The feeling is as incredible as it is daunting and just a tad uncomfortable.

You let your mind wander to every porn you've ever seen, where the woman is bouncing tirelessly and effortlessly on the actor's lap, how the fuck are you supposed to do that?! "Hey," Josh's voice brings you back to him, his eyes housing a look of worry, "Just do what feels good baby, there's no rush." His voice reminds you, soft and sweet, your perfect Joshy. Never wanting to push you to do something you didn't want to do, always looking out for you. You give him a nod and try to center yourself, you start experimentally rocking your hips back and forth over him. The feeling makes you feel more full than ever before, so complete like this.

You bring your hands to lay flat on Josh's stomach, anchoring you to him, allowing you to move against him with ease. You lose yourself in the feeling, rolling your hips, his cock deep inside of you, up against your g-spot in such a beautiful way. Your eyes fall shut, your clit catching on the base of him in such a way that only makes you need more.

Josh's eyes are trained on you, staring up at you like he's holding an angel just beneath his touch. The way the light hugs your skin, the contour of your breasts, the smoothness of your skin, your throat exposed as you let your head fall back, watching the way your hair sways with you, falling in love with the way you feel and the way that you look all over again. His hands move to your hips, the feeling of his movement makes you open your eyes and look down at the beauty of the man below you, watching you like you just hung the moon. "Feels so good." Your voice falls like silk so easily that you hardly recognize you'd uttered those words at all. You shift up your motions, opting to bounce up and down slowly on his dick.

"Oh baby. Just like that, oh you're so good." Josh cries out, his voice so soothing it only makes you move more confidently, egging you on to move faster. His large hands rest on your ass, helping you bounce against him, his dull nails digging into your ass cheeks making you only need more of him. The up and down routine has the head of his cock running perfectly over your g-spot over and over, your moans falling from you before you can even process them. "Josh, oh Josh, oh fuck you feel so good baby." You whimper, he sighs, his perfect pink lips parted with sounds of euphoria flowing from him.

His hands on you start to feel more desperate, you lean into him, the feeling of your thighs burning from exhaustion doubling you over. You continue your motions this way, face buried into the crook of his neck, the change in angle making both of you cry out in pleasure. His arms hold you tightly around your waist, almost as though he were shielding you and not the other way around. He moves his legs up and begins to thrust into you, his pace unrelenting as he slams into you hard and deep, in a way he's never done before.

You swoon at the thought of it all, finally surrendering to him, letting him take you however he needs you without feeling on the edge of breaking in half from fear or pain, just living in this moment of the pure bliss and love he gives you, the love you are finally able to accept. He grips you tighter as he rolls the two of you over, skillfully bringing you to lay beneath him as he thrusts into you. You look up at him in surprise, never having moved you around like that before takes your breath away. He's chasing his high, his hand coming down to your clit, rolling it in quick tight circles in attempt to bring you with him. You cry out in delight at the attention to your bundle of nerves, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten.

You catch his eyes and something in the room just shifts. The fast and passionate fucking turns into something more, something slower, more deliberate. Not any less intense, but somehow, more meaningful. He brings himself closer to you, lips just inches apart but you can't look away from the stunning amber of his brown eyes in the dark light of your bedroom. It feels as though you're pulled together like magnets, unable to be torn apart. Watching as the other is slowly coming more and more undone with every thrust.

You feel his breath fanning over your lips, as though the two of you are sharing a breath makes its all the more spiritual than just simply fucking. This is what sex is about, what love is about, what being human is. You can feel a connection within you two so strong and powerful it cannot be broken. Your hands come to his face, holding him to you as though your lives depended on it. He sets his forehead to yours, his hips and hand never ceasing their perfect routine that feels like a song playing through you.

His face says so much without saying a word, eyes bore into yours with such desperation and gentleness that you can feel tears pricking at your own eyes, threatening to spill over. Not out of pain, but from an overwhelming need to feel him all around you, to hold him fully in your heart, to want to be a part of the very core of his universe. "I love you." He pants, his voice faltering from need and desperation but also true honesty. "I love you." You choke out, a hot tear cascades down your cheek as you can feel the knot inside of you on the verge of breaking. He continues his thrusts, he bites down on his lip as a moan threatens to tear him apart.

You tighten your grip on him, pulling at his hair as the feeling of your orgasm creeps in. Your shared breaths increase until the two of you are shattering completely, cumming together, hard. His voice is fried as he calls out your name, his hands grip you tightly to him, as though you were the only lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific. You cry out his name and a string of curses are pulled from you as though you weren't even in control as your body quivers from your climax that slams through the both of you. Josh cums deep inside you, your pussy fluttering around him as your thighs press tightly to him, legs wrapped around his hips to have him as close to you as possible. The room falls still as the two of you hold each other in such perfect content.

You smile up at the ceiling as you pet his curls, running your hand over his head and bringing him back to you. Your smile is wide and your tears fall from your eyes as a light laugh bubbles from your chest. Josh brings his head up to look at you. You laugh again a little louder than before, half of pure anguish and the other in pure joy. "What's wrong, baby? Are you hurt?" "No, no," Your laugh interrupts your own statement. "I-I fucking did it… I did it and I feel… free. He doesn't own me anymore. I feel like I beat him. Like I won." You smile up to the ceiling, fearing how much you might feel if you look over at Josh.

He brings you to look at him, his hand holding your chin oh so lovingly. "I love you so much." "I love you so much, baby." You smile as the tears fall from your face, "You're my everything." He whispers with a smile as he brushes your tears away, giving you a kiss to your flushed cheeks.

It's a feeling you probably can't even explain. To feel so loved that you can't even begin to understand how you can contain it all. To know love in a way you've never understood before. To see that love laying beside you and holding you so close it makes your heart sore. To be loved in a way that you can close your eyes and sleep beside the person who is all you can think of. To feel finally whole again. "My sweet girl." Josh whispers in your ear, holding you tight against him in his arms that will only ever love and protect you. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling more free and more loved than you could have ever known.

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Josh Only Tag List 💕

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[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!

Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....

W/C: 3.5k

“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”

“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.

“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.

Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.

He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”

*****

“He said WHAT?!”

Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”

You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”

Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -

“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.

Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.

“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.

“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.

“Alright, don’t stay too late.”

You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.

*****

As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.

Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.

You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.

“Hey! How- how's it goin?”

You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”

“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.

You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.

“Where is he?”

Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”

The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.

“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”

You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.

Keep it in your pants idiot

“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”

He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.

“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.

“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?

He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”

“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”

“Why should I?”

Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!

“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.

“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”

“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.

“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.

“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”

“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.

“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.

Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.

“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.

Cheeky bastard.

“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..

“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”

A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.

“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.

“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”

He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”

“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”

You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.

“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”

The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”

“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”

Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.

He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.

You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.

“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.

“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”

With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”

You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”

Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”

He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”

Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.

“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.

“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”

Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.

“One more.”

Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”

“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”

“NO”

“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

“Come on, cum for me.”

You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.

You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”

By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”

You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.

“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.

“I assume you're finished with the lab?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.

Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”

The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”

And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”

@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight

[shiny-jr]

❝ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ᴋ   ᴀ ʙ ᴏ ᴜ ᴛ   ɪ ᴛ ❞

➼ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕖𝕔𝕙 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕤

The ocean was unpredictable, but they still loved it.  

Everyday in their youth, (Y/n) would travel to the beach, a private little area hidden by rocks and the tide. Playing there by themself for hours upon hours. Making sandcastles for the crabs, collecting seashells to share with their friends and family, practicing and teaching themself how to play a kalimba, until when it was dark a relative would come to drag them back home. For years, the beach became their safe spot where they retreated to get away from it all, but as life moved on so did (Y/n).

Soon, (Y/n)’s time was swallowed up by the problems and turmoil of everyday life, as they spent less and less time in their safe haven, now stuck in land. Eventually, they stopped going to the beach altogether, only occasionally taking a stroll there every month or so. It was still as peaceful and calming as they remembered. However, not everything could remain the same-- peace was never meant to last. 

Those deep waters that held the unknown-- were wild and terrifying, so when fishermen and whole ships began to go missing, everyone assumed it was a tragic accident: a shipwreck, a terrible storm, or somehow becoming lost at sea. That is, until these so called accidents were becoming all the more frequent. It seemed like every week a poor fisherman went missing, every month a ship never to be seen again. Bodies of the dead lost at sea often found their way to shore, limbs missing or twisted and bent in impossible angles, visible signs they had been in a struggle.

Rumors began to float about, all ranging from a curse being placed on the town to the possibility of sea monsters lurking in the waters that caused these accidents to occur. Of course, in their paranoia and terror, the townspeople would believe anything, all except one person. They refused to believe in the rumors without proof, not allowing fear to get the best of them.

Everyday, (Y/n) continued to roam the now empty beaches in search of trinkets and treasures buried in the sand. And everyday, their family’s worries grew. Was it really wise to continue going to the beaches when there was an unknown threat in the waters? Still, no matter how hard they attempted to persuade them to stop and find a job further inland, (Y/n) always refused. As long as they stay away from the deep water, they will be fine, right?

Well, they were correct in a sense that they themself would not be harmed, but that didn’t mean that danger would stop from befalling on others.

It was a normal day, the salty breeze was warm and delightful, the clouds provided just enough cover from the hot sun. The waters were calm, steadily washing up to the shore. (Y/n) walked along the land, stepping along the warm sand and cool tides. In their hand they held an instrument, a wooden board with metal tines, a kalimba handmade and gifted by their parents. Aimlessly they tapped the metal, creating soft chimes that matched the clanging of freshly discovered treasures collected in their satchel that sounded with every stride they took.

They barely paid any attention to the lone fisherman out at sea, not too far from where they stood on the shore. The middle-aged man appeared to be too occupied with his work to even notice their presence as well. Using his nimble fingers to prepare the end of his rod with a hook and bait.

(Y/n) looked up with interest as they heard a splash in the waters. Had the man caught something so quickly? Their eyes widened as they saw the tip of a teal-colored tail emerge from the waters, the fisherman noticing it as well.

Think about it, think about it.

The fisherman placed down his rod, looking over the side of his boat that the person on the shore was unable to see. In an instant, two webbed hands grabbed the man by his shirt, dragging him underneath the waves and successfully stopping his scream from alerting any others in the vicinity, but (Y/n) had watched the whole thing unfold with growing horror.

What felt like hours were mere seconds they spent waiting, hoping to see the man reemerge safely. What should they do? Should they try to help somehow? But they couldn’t risk going further into the water! Should they run and get help? It might be too late if they came with help. Before they could make a decision, the man’s hat appeared and floated on the waves, but there was no sign of the fisherman-- until the blue waters began to turn a crimson red, blood making its way to the surface.

Think about when you were there.

(Y/n) stifled a shriek, quickly shoving the kalimba back into their satchel and switching out their sandals. Struggling to put them on as quickly as possible, they would run back to town and inform authorities about what they had witnessed. As they nearly fell and tried to slide on their sandals, another splash emitted from behind the boat, a voice making their blood run cold.

We know it.

“Eeeeh, what a weakling. There wasn’t much to squeeze! Didn’t you hear something earlier, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd, I did. Perhaps there’s another human in the area?”

Finally clipping their sandals on their feet securely, they bolted. Running as fast as their feet could carry them on the sand, too afraid to look back. Failing to notice their musical instrument fall out of their satchel and into the waters. (Y/n) was far too focused on getting away as quickly as possible, only one destination was in mind: the town. They had to get to town and report what they witnessed. Behind them, they were just able to make out the words being said by whatever creatures remained in the waters.

We already know it.

“Aah, there they go! They’re running away like a scared little shrimp!”

“That’s a shame. It seems humans are quick to flee.”

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

The twins had occasionally swam to the surface when in their youth, and while mischievous and troublesome, they had never attacked a human. They had been children at the time, just two little eels. However, their visits soon became frequent upon discovering a hidden rocky beach behind a cliff, and while they played with the crabs and watched the seagulls, they spotted the first human they ever saw.

Jade and Floyd nearly submerged themselves fully in the waters, poking the top of their heads out. From the darkness behind some rocks jutting out of the waters, they watched with fascination as the land creature played all alone by themselves.

Floyd stared with wide eyes before looking at his twin, “Hey, hey, isn’t that sad? That little human is lonely. I have you, but they’re all alone!”

Jade nodded, watching the human with a tilt of his head, “Yes, that is sad. But they don’t look lonely.”

On the contrary, (Y/n) appeared delighted despite the lack of company. They laughed and chased away those pesky seagulls, making shapes and small structures from the sand that amazed the twins, and even played a strange musical instrument. They had to wonder, were all young humans like this?

Think about it, think about it.

“Jade, that small shrimpy is pretty funny.”

“Yes, Floyd, they are very interesting.”

It soon became habit for the young Leech twins to venture to that secret beach in search of that amusing little human. As the years went by, the human’s trips to the beach became infrequent until it stopped completely. However, the two never forgot about the human named (Y/n), the memory of watching them play constantly lingering in the back of their mind.

It disappears in three days, and fills up again.

After years of not visiting the surface, their return meant chaos and misfortune for the land dwellers. What better fun was there than humans? Oh to see them struggle in their tail’s grip, gulp and gasped for air only to get a mouthful of water, and how they struggled was all so much fun! It was a shame they never lasted long, a single squeeze was all it took to break any unfortunate human they came across.

“Save me! I’m scared!” All day long.

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

I knew it.

(Y/n) retreated away from the ocean, as far as they could go, not wanting to be reminded of what they witnessed. Those recent memories engraved in the front of their mind, the terrified faces of the authorities they reported the accident to, the grief-stricken family of the fisherman, and the incident itself with the blood and those creatures that continued to lurk in the salty waters.

I saw it.

They had run to the forest, hoping they could calm themself and find peace of mind here. The forest, lakes, and rivers should be safe, right? The beach was miles away, they were safest here, right?

Think about it, think about it.

The sound of running waterfalls and the chirp of birds filled the silence, slowly providing them a sense of calm. It’s as if the gentle flowing water extinguished the flames of their fear and guilt, leaving them at peace. Softly the wooden path they walked on creaked, the healthy green leaves from branches overhead provided shade, the water of the river was a clear emerald green. Their eyes admired the many waterfalls, taking a shaky breath, Reaching for their satchel, they cursed underneath their breath upon realizing their musical instrument was gone. Instead, they opted for humming, singing softly in this space where they believed they were alone.

We worry all day long.

Two particular sea creatures stopped from exploring this new strip of water, perking up at the distant humming and soft singing. They stopped swimming, looking towards the direction it came from.

We worry about what we’re going to eat when the night comes.

Jade listened to the distant voice, smiling at the lovely melody and soft voice. Slowly a grin appeared on his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. “Hm… Are my ears deceiving me, or do you hear that as well?”

“Yeahhh! It sounds like a merfolk’s song!” Lowering the little wooden musical instrument he had discovered on the shore earlier, Floyd shook his head. “Eh, but merfolk are too wimpy to come inland!”

“That is true… Considering that, it must be another human.”

“This is getting boring here… I know! Let’s find that little human!”

To win is to survive.

(Y/n) hopped along the smooth stones, kicking the water running along by their feet. Parting their lips, their dulcet voice flowed out and rang through the air, partially disrupted by the waterfalls. “Now’s your moment. Floating in a blue lagoon~” Aimlessly spinning along the stone, careful not to misstep and accidentally fall in the water. “Boy, you better do it soon! No time will be better~”

The Leech twins neared at a slow pace, taking cover under the darkest shadows that covered the river. However, before they could zoom forward and drag them underneath to have their fun, the duo stopped upon catching a proper glimpse at the human’s face. Their olive colored eyes soaking up the familiar features while their golden eyes glowed dimly. In that instant, like a lightbulb switching on, they both recognized the human as the same one from the morning, the same human they used to watch years ago.

Think about it, think about it.

“Aaah~~~! It’s Shrimpy~~!!!”

(Y/n) jumped at the shrill shriek, eyes going wide as they recognized the voice as one from this morning. Freezing in place, they looked up and nearly fainted on the spot as they spotted a figure in the waters coming straight towards them at unbelievable speed. A mix between a terrified whimper and a yelp escaped their lips.

The small wooden dock behind them leading into the forest was too far, they’d never make it before that thing would snatch them up. Sprinting along the stone, they approached the waterfalls where the wall curved in to reveal a sizable cave safe from the water.

“Hey, hey, wait up~!”

Seeing no other option, they dove inside, scratching their skin against the rocks and slamming against the wall in the process, just as they heard a loud splash behind them.

(Y/n) stumbled up, ignoring the aching pain on their back and the scratches littering their arms. Eyeing the sea monster before taking slow steps back, nearly screaming as a second one popped out of the water beside the other, nearly identical to the first one.

Your riddle will make us happy, free, and alive.

Both of the sea creatures had human-like faces but with gills; their upper bodies were shaped like a human’s but their lower-halves were long tails resembling that of an eel. Their skin tone was almost entirely teal, with portions of their chest and face white. The only difference between the two was their eye color: The first had a right eye that was olive color while his left was a golden hue, in comparison, the second had a right eye that was a golden hue while his left was an olive color.

“Shrimpyyy, come here! Let me squeeze you~!” The first creature whined as he stretched out his arms, but (Y/n) was too far to grab. When they showed no sign of approaching him, he pouted while his sharp nails scratched the rocky floor. “I have to greet you with a hug, come on!”

“Hehehe, it appears we’ve frightened them.” The second creature chimed in, chuckling at their fear. “I like observing people, but I am not the best at it. We couldn’t even refrain ourselves from seeing you again.”

Images of the gruesome sight from earlier that day flashed in mind. Reeling away as they felt their stomach churn. (Y/n) managed to find their voice, barely squeaking out, “A-Again…? You m-mean f-from earlier…?”

“You’re not completely correct. My, my… I seem to have gotten ahead of myself and acted rather unsightly this morning. Heheh… Forgive us for what you had to witness. But unfortunately, you wouldn’t recognize us. We haven’t properly met yet.” Holding up his hand, he held the musical instrument they left behind at the beach. Extending it out to them, he offered a charming smile, “I believe this is yours, is it not?”

Silently (Y/n) nodded, gulping as they hesitantly stepped forward, cautiously watching the duo that seemed amused with them. Shakily the human snatched up their kalimba--

“Baaam~!”

They flinched and jumped back, clutching the kalimba close to their chest. Stumbling back away from them until their back pressed against a stone. Frantically their eyes searched for a way out, there was only the stone rocks to hop on but those twin sea creatures could easily grab them if they chose that path. This small cave was a deadend, however, if they could somehow climb upwards until they reached the top of the waterfall, they could escape that way…

“Just kidding!” The first creature let out an unevenly-pitched laugh at their reaction, grinning as the tip of his tail poked out of the waters, “Little Shrimp is funny, look at them tremble!”

“Certainly very amusing.” The second creature hummed, eyes glimmering with mischief as he admitted. “It’s strange, isn’t it? For the longest time I believed humans were dull, but you’re not very dull, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) felt their heartbeat stop. Softly they asked, unable to stop from stuttering and tripping over their words, “H-How do you k-know m-my name…?”

“Allow us to properly introduce ourselves firstly.” The second creature placed a webbed hand to his chest and began, “I am Jade Leech. This is my twin, Floyd.”

The first creature, Floyd, grinned and folded an arm behind his head as he sang, “Hello, I’m Floyd! I’m sooo happy to see you again, Shrimpy!”

Your riddle will erase the shadow of death and we’ll live in a dream world!

“We’ve seen you many times before, years ago. Our favorite pastime was watching our beloved little human play on the beach.” Jade feigned a sad frown, as if the mere thought of it wounded him. “So I’m certain you can imagine how heartbroken we were when you stopped coming by!”

“Ooh, we were sooo sad when Shrimpy left! We wanted to play with you and swim with you!” Floyd explained eagerly, a toothy grin growing steadily with every word he said, “Now, we can talk to Shrimpy and we’ll have all the time in the world to have fun together! Hey, hey, you should play us a song like you used to!”

(Y/n) backed away slowly, shivering under the watchful gazes as they stuffed the kalimba in their satchel. Approaching the wall of the cave, their fingers gripped the moist stone surface. Slowly attempting to climb the slippery surface, careful to avoid getting too close to the twin sea creatures and cautious to avoid the water from the waterfall to avoid being drenched or pushed down.

Jade’s charming smile faltered, watching their feeble pathetic attempts to climb higher and higher to land away from their grip. “Now where do you think you’re going?”

The human paused before slowly continuing, responding carefully, “Look, I-I have to get home… T-Thank you kindly for not killing me, but I r-really have to get goin--”

Splash!

Floyd jumped out of the water, his wet and firm webbed hand gripping their ankle, weighing them down and dragging them back down to the water. “Heheh, why did you think you could win and leave~?”

Unable to flail about or fight back, two long slippery tails curled around their entire body. Every movement in resistance threatened to squeeze tighter until they wouldn’t be able to breath. They felt so small in their grip, left to stare in terror at the creature's wide toothy grins. Specks of blood staining and bits of flesh stuck between their shark-like teeth, making the human even more afraid. The duo kept (Y/n) afloat as they pleaded fearfully, “P-Please… let m-me go--”

“It’s been some time since we’ve seen you. Why not stay and keep us company? After all, we have a lot of catching up to do, my little anemone~”

“When Shrimpy is here it’s so much fun, I just can’t get enough! You won’t even think about leaving again, right, Shrimpy~?”

Think about it, think about it.

- You might like this!

[x-childish-x]

Hi- may I ask for a Bucky x girlfriend reader. He has been away on mission for a long time, so when James finally reunites with his lover - things gets heated and rough rather quickly! But he can help himself getting a guilt-trip afterwards in the shower, seeing all the marks and bruises he has caused and branded her body with...

Guilty Pleasure

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: SMUT!, NSFW, slight pain kink, some manhandling, explicit unprotected sex, sad/guilty Bucky

Word Count: 1,556

A/N: Hello! First, thank you for this request! I'm sorry it's quite long, but I feel like it's definitely worth it!! I really hope you enjoy this and that it's what you wanted. Feedback is always appreciated!

Summary: Things quickly get steamy when Bucky returns from a long mission, but he's later ridden with guilt from the results of your pleasure. 

(gif not mine!)

You were the only thing on Bucky's mind. He didn't care about anything but getting back to you. Steve was flying the Quinjet home, and Bucky was truly beginning to get annoyed at his best friend for not flying faster, even though Steve was going full speed. Steve barely had time to lower the back before Bucky was out of the plane and quickly walking to your room.

He ignored Tony telling him he needed to do a debriefing before going to you. Steve smiled, telling Tony to leave him be. After all, Steve and he had been on that damn mission for just over three weeks. And now, as Bucky bound down the hall towards your shared room, he found himself considering the idea of never going on another mission.

Your face lit up the moment the door to your room opened, and without a second thought, you flew off your bed and slammed into Bucky's chest, "Bucky!"

Bucky smiled, squeezing you tightly, "Hey doll!"

You pulled back, crashing your lips onto Bucky's as he lifted you off the ground, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He smiled into the kiss, deepening it as he stepped further into the room, locking the door behind him. You pulled back, slightly out of breath, and connected your foreheads.

"Someone's eager," Bucky teased, walking towards your bed.

You frowned playfully, "Don't tease me. I've missed you."

"Don't worry, doll," Bucky smirked, laying you down, "There won't be much teasing at all. I've missed you far too much to spend time teasing you."

It didn't take long for Bucky to strip you both of your clothes. His kisses were almost as hot and needy as his touch. Sloppy kisses and bites being placed all over your neck and chest. Bucky kept to his promise. He had missed you far too much to consider teasing you much at all, and he'd missed you far too much to even consider how rough he was being. 

You didn't mind though. Bucky was manhandling you just enough that it wasn't unbearable, and the idea of him being this desperate and needy for you turned you on like you couldn't imagine. He slammed into you quite quickly, hardly giving you time to adjust to his massive size before he began to thrust into you. Your moans filled the entire room as he set his pace, his hands gripping your waist incredibly tight, the slight pain only adding to your pleasure.

Bucky's grunts and groans combine with your moans as his thrusts become animalistic. At this point, your sure that everyone knows exactly what you two are doing, especially with the headboard slamming into the wall the way it is. Bucky's grip on your hips tightens, and you whimper in pleasure at the feeling of Bucky fucking you into your bed. 

The super-soldier's head drops to your shoulder as he nips at it, his grunts getting louder as you cry, "Feels s'good Buck!"

He groans at your words, his metal arm coming to grip your throat lightly, his flesh hand shifting to grab your left leg and hoist it up over his shoulder. The new angle elicits a string of curse words from your mouth as Bucky's pace somehow quickens, his flesh hand returning to grip your hip. 

"Fuck, you're taking my cock so well, doll," Bucky groans, nipping your collarbone, "S'well. Missed you too much... way too much."

Your whines go a higher pitch as you grip Bucky's shoulders tightly, "'M gonna cum."

Bucky nods. He knows already. He can feel you clenching around him, and before he can even tell you to cum, your clenching even tighter around his cock. Your orgasm slams into you, your legs shaking slightly as Bucky fucks you through your high. Despite his efforts, it'd been three weeks, and your clenching is too much as Bucky shoots his load into you, his metal hand leaving your throat and reaching to squeeze your thigh that's still rest on his shoulder.

"Fuck," Bucky curses, his head shifting from the right side of your chest to the left side, nipping that side of your collarbone. He laughs softly as he lets down your leg, his metal arm releasing your throat, "We should probably shower now."

A giggle escaped your lips as you nodded, Bucky kissing his way from your collarbone up to your lips. You smiled as he pulled out, suppressing a soft groan as he did so. You allowed Bucky to help you up and usher you towards your bathroom. He started the shower, getting the water warm before you two slipped in. 

You hummed contently at the warm feeling, knowing that no words needed to be said as Bucky grabbed the soap. Showers together were routine for you two, so you stood patiently as Bucky washed your back before gently turning you by your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let Bucky's hands glide over your body, lathering you in soap. Bucky smile at your reaction, finally taking his eyes off your face to admire your body. Or should he say, what was left of it? 

Bucky looked over your body, his eyes immediately noticing the spots on your waist and hips where bruises were quickly forming, bruises in the shapes of his hands. He noticed a similar bruise forming on the thigh he'd hoisted over his shoulder, and even various spots along your chest and collarbones had bruises forming from him biting too hard. However, what broke Bucky was the faint bruises forming around your neck. He stumbled in the shower, soap dropping from his hands as he stumbled out, desperate to give you distance from him.

Your eyes flew open at the sudden commotion, just barely seeing Bucky fleeing the bathroom with a towel around his waist. You called for him repeatedly, but he ignored you, trying to dry himself as fast as possible. You were quick to rinse and get out, wrapping a towel around your body.

When you entered your bedroom, you saw Bucky yanking on a shirt and heading towards the door, making fear spike in your chest, "James Buchanan Barnes, you will not leave me alone in this damn room again," Bucky froze at the crack in your voice. He knew if he turned around, he'd see you on the verge of tears, "I don't know what I did wrong but don't leave me alone again."

"What you did wrong!?" Bucky snapped, spinning around, "This isn't what you did. It's what I did! Look at yourself! Have you even looked in the mirror? Seen the way I... the way I scarred you, hurt you."

Bucky watched intently as your eyebrows scrunched, and you slowly turned towards the mirror in your room, opening the towel to examine your body. He waited for your face to contort into disgust, for you to turn around and scream at him to leave, but it never came. You simply examined your body before wrapping your towel back around you and turning to Bucky.

"Buck... baby, they're just bruises," You spoke softly, walking towards him.

Fear spiked within Bucky, and he quickly stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet slightly as he slammed into your door. He shook his head rapidly, making you freeze as tears rose within his eyes. The room fell silent as Bucky's chest heaved with each breath he took, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

"I hurt you," Bucky croaked out, "I scarred you with... with those marks, those bruises that you should never have."

"Buck," You whispered, "You didn't hurt me. It felt good. We were just caught up in the moment."

"No, no, no," Bucky cried softly, his head dropping to the floor, "Don't try to justify this, don't try to make this okay."

"You didn't mean it!" You huffed, closing the distance between you and Bucky, "You didn't mean it, Buck. I'm not mad at you. I'm not even the slightest bit upset. In fact, I'm kind of happy. I can't wait to make Sam and Steve uncomfortable with all these hickies."

A giggle left your lips, and Bucky had to fight off a smile at his favorite sound. Slowly, you cupped his cheek, drawing his gaze to you. You gently wiped away the tears, leaning up to kiss Bucky's nose with a smile.

"I love you so much, Bucky. Please don't feel guilty over something so small."

"What if I do it again?" Bucky whimpered, his cerulean orbs locking on yours, "What if I really hurt you one time?"

"Buck... baby... you won't hurt me. I trust you more than anyone, and if you went too far, I would tell you. Besides that, though, you would know if you were going too far, and I trust that you would stop."

A small smile came to Bucky's lips as he took in the fact that you were still soaking wet, wrapped in only your towel with a slight shiver, "How'd I get so lucky?"

"How did I get so lucky?" You countered, "I love you so much, Bucky."

"I love you more, doll," Bucky kissed your forehead before a smirk came over his face, "You really think we can make Steve and Sam uncomfortable with those hickies?"

"Oh definitely, Steve will wish they never found him in the ice."

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 9 (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut

 Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

Saturday had finally arrived. It was 6am when you woke up, but you were far too excited to go back to sleep. You tossed and turned for a little while, trying to convince your body to give you a few more minutes of rest just so you wouldn’t get tired early but it was no use. The last time you’d felt like this was when you were a kid and there was a big class field trip coming up, or on Christmas morning. That sense of child-like excitement was something you didn’t even realize you’d missed so much. As an adult waking up in the mornings was almost always shitty, but today you were so excited the idea of sleep didn’t even sound appealing anymore. God. Maybe you were just as whipped as him.

 After giving in to your excitement you got up, and started making breakfast. You were worried that you’d be tired or groggy on the date so you made sure to add an extra shot of espresso to your morning latte. Falling asleep hadn’t been easy either. You kept thinking about all the different possibilities of where he might take you, and you had been especially distracted by Baekhyun’s promise of what would come after. 

You had put a great deal of effort into looking nice for the club last week, but this week you didn’t even know where to start. Getting ready for a real date was very different than getting ready for the club. At the club you could cover yourself in glitter and body oil and do the most extra makeup looks one could imagine, and there wasn’t much to the outfits anyway. But what the hell were you supposed to do for a date where all you knew was that it was outside? You wanted to put in effort still, of course, but doing too much might be weird if it’s more of a casual thing. But Baekhyun wouldn’t just do something casual right? It would be something fancy for sure. But then what were you supposed to wear that was relatively fancy but worked for being outdoors? 

You still wanted to be able to be comfortable so after some time and careful deliberation, you decided on a sundress and simple makeup. The sundress also had the advantage of allowing you to forego wearing a bra, and it was remarkably easy to remove. You had a feeling Baekhyun would appreciate that later on. 

As the morning went on you tried your best to keep your mind occupied and prolong the process of getting ready in order to leave as little time as possible to get anxious, you knew as soon as you would get bored the nervousness would start. So you kept yourself busy. 

3:00pm drew closer and closer and despite your best efforts you felt yourself becoming restless. You internally cursed Mia for being busy all day so she wouldn’t be there to help you not freak out.  

Unfortunately you were ready by 2:00, leaving you an entire hour to mull over your thoughts as they made you more and more antsy. 

After an hour of pacing around the house and checking your hair and makeup way too many times, you finally heard a knock on the door. You basically sprinted across the house at the sound. 

To your relief Baekhyun wasn’t dressed very fancy, just a white short sleeved button down tucked into black shorts. But oh did the sight of him still make your heart flutter. His hair was perfectly styled and he just looked so good.  

“Hi, you look beautiful,” He said as his eyes traveled up and down your body. “You ready to go?” You responded with a nod and threw your arms around him for a hug, which he happily returned. “Come on then.”

As you approached his Audi he opened the door for you to get in, and it somehow looked even fancier than you had remembered, although you had been slightly drunk when you’d last been in his car. 

You stayed quiet, and Baekhyun put on some music as he pulled out and started driving. After a few minutes you heard him softly singing along, and you wondered why he didn’t tell you sooner that he could sing so well. 

“You have a really nice voice.” You spoke softly, and he turned to look at you briefly. 

“You think so? I was in a band in high school, and I think I was pretty good but I never kept up with it, although I do still like singing.” 

“You should do it more if you like it, or you can at least sing to me anytime.” 

He shot you a smile and continued singing along to the music, but now with more confidence.

Everything about him just seemed to get more and more perfect. No man had ever impressed you this much, had made you feel this lucky and special. It made you even more scared that you would do or say something that would mess everything up. 

“Nervous?” He asked, noticing how quiet you were being. 

“Yeah, I just, I don’t know. I don’t wanna make things weird and mess everything up.” 

He placed a hand on your thigh, and once the car was stopped at a light his eyes met yours. “Don’t be, I promise there’s nothing you can do that will make today any less magical, the fact that I’m getting to take you out at all is enough for me.” 

The warmth in the way he looked at you then helped melt away some of your worries. He was right of course, you knew he liked you too much for you to really be able to mess this up, but the mystery of where he was taking you made you worry nonetheless. 

For about another 30 minutes Baekhyun drove the two of you further and further out of the city, until eventually he parked at the bottom of a large hill, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

‘Um, Baekhyun, where are we? You’re not about to murder me are you?” 

“No” he chucked, “definitely not, just follow me.” 

He took your hand and started walking you up the hill until you were about halfway up and you could almost see to the other side. 

“I need you to close your eyes.” 

You did as you were told, and he kept guiding you by your hand as you blindly followed. Your heart rate had gone up significantly, still not having any clue what he had in store for you. Especially now that you were out here seemingly with nothing and nobody else around. 

A few shaky steps later he told you to open your eyes, and with your heartbeat loudly thumping in your ears, you finally did. 

What you saw had not been what you were expecting at all, though you hadn’t had a clue what to expect in the first place. 

On the other side of the hill was an enormous balloon that was slowly being inflated. 

He was taking you on a hot air balloon. 

You could feel his eyes on you, waiting for some sort of reaction, but all you could do was stare in awe at the giant colorful mass in front of you. In your mind you started to think about how the hell he even pulled this off, how he even had the resources for something so extra, and for a first date. The longer you looked the more you felt the guilt start to set in. He had probably spent a ridiculous amount of time and money setting this up, and you had pestered him about the secret like some ungrateful child. Eventually the whole situation had tears brimming in your eyes from pure disbelief. 

Baekhyun quickly took notice and pulled you forwards to face him. 

“What’s wrong? Do you not like it? We can leave and do something else if-” 

You grabbed his face and cut him off with a kiss, as you felt a tear escape.

“You’re fucking insane. I can’t believe this is what you were planning, how the hell did you even get a hot air balloon?” You said as you wiped away another tear, but the smile that had made its way onto your face let Baekhyun let out a sigh of relief. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Jongdae, I don’t know if you remember him from the club, but he’s got all kinds of connections and he did this for him and his wife last year so I got him to help me out.” 

You still just shook your head in disbelief. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you,” he grinned, “now come on.” 

He grabbed your hand again and started pulling you towards the balloon again, which was now almost upright. As you got closer you noticed the picnic set and bottle of champagne that were sitting on a small table in the center of the basket, with a bench on either side for each of you to sit on. 

The man who was operating the balloon gave the two of you a quick safety briefing before you stepped into the basket and he closed the small door behind you. 

After a few moments you felt yourself lift off, and slowly the balloon lifted the two of you up towards the clouds. 

“Um, Baekhyun?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“What if I’m afraid of heights.” 

“I’m right here,” He grabbed your hand between his own, “You know I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ve also been told it’s not so bad as long as you don’t look down.” 

Luckily when you were seated you could only see the view off in the distance, so it wasn’t too frightening. As the balloon ascended further and further you started to realize how beautiful it was. The scenery from this angle was breathtaking and this high up in the sky there was a pleasant cool breeze as well.

You were torn out of your train of thought when you saw Baekhyun grab the bottle of champagne along with two glasses. He popped the cork out, which went flying out of the confines of the basket, plummeting down to earth. 

“Oops.” 

You giggled and he poured both of you a glass before reaching for the picnic basket. He pulled out two black boxes, and he opened yours and set it down in front of you revealing one of the most beautiful arrangements of sushi you’d ever seen. 

“God you are unreal.” You breathed out as you examined the meal in front of you more closely. 

“You like it?” 

“Yes, of course, I love it. I love all this, I- I don’t even know what to say. Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before.” 

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself.” He grinned back at you. "I wanted to do something that was different, something that you would hopefully be able to look back at later as a nice memory for us to share together. I know this technically is our first date but we’ve known each other a while so it really didn’t feel that way to me.” 

The way he treated you, spoke to you, touched you, still seemed too good to be true. The question used to plague you, but now you wanted to know more out of the selfish need for validation more than anything else. 

“Baekhyun, why do you like me so much? You’re around pretty girls all the time, why me?” 

He let out a small breathy laugh, took a drink of his champagne and met your gaze. “You make me feel like a kid again.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When I first saw you that night at your work, I remember thinking you were so sexy, so beautiful, so way out of my league, talking to you made me feel like a silly teenager with a crush on a girl who wouldn’t show him the light of day anyway. I hadn’t felt like that in almost a decade, but just in that one night you made me feel it again. That’s why I knew I had to come back, too. The more I talked to you the more I felt we actually had a connection too, although I didn’t think it was really real, I thought you were just good at talking to me, but it made me feel so good I didn’t really care. I never thought you’d end up actually liking me this much. Two weeks ago at the club when you were drunk and started to get more touchy with me I thought I was going insane, I couldn’t believe that you might actually be attracted to me like that. I’m 30 now and I spent basically all of my 20′s trying to please other people and make those around me happy, even if it meant I had to settle. I would let coworkers or my family set me up with people who seemed, I don’t know, proper. But it was never fun or exciting, always just one boring dinner date after the next, with people I felt nothing for. I regret it a lot now, but I’m so thankful I got to meet you, cause I feel like now thanks to you I can finally experience those parts of my youth that I missed out on.” 

You were speechless. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to find some words that would live up to what he had said, to properly express what you were feeling, but they just didn’t exist. He stared at you as you stared back, desperately trying to get something to come out of your mouth but it felt impossible.

“Sorry, I know that was a lot at once, but I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.” 

His words had you flustered and cheeks tinted pink. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time too. Maybe ever.” 

Baekhyun felt like his heart was about to burst. “When did you realize you liked me as more than just a customer?” 

You had thought about this a lot, trying to decipher when in your own mind you had come to the realization, because you had fought it so vehemently. 

“When I let you touch me. I never allowed anyone to do that before you, and I wouldn’t admit it to myself until later but it was that night.” 

“Why were you scared to admit it to yourself?” 

“I think I was still worried about letting you into my life, since I never do that with people from work. I don’t even hang out with the other girls there, I want to keep that part of my life separate. And once you were my professor I was even more scared because I knew in the back of my mind that I did like you but now there was even more to worry about because I didn’t want to get you in trouble. That still worries me a lot.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that, I know what I’m getting myself into and I know the risks. I wouldn’t be serious about this if I wasn’t willing to take that risk. But I think things will end up fine. As long as nobody finds out while you’re my student, nothing can happen. We just have to be a bit careful. That’s actually another reason I chose this for the date, I didn’t want to risk somebody seeing us, as much as I would love to be able to show you off.” 

“This is perfect, really. I can’t think of anything more magical.” You said as you took a bite of your sushi and looked around at the view surrounding you. “I’m definitely going to remember this for a long time.” 

The date went on and the two of you laughed together while enjoying the view, the food, and the champagne. It really was magical, you felt like you were in your own little fairytale world up in the sky with him, you were convinced nothing could beat this feeling. The way Baekhyun spoke to you always made you feel so comfortable and he could make you laugh so easily. Whenever the two of you were together, things just felt right. 

Eventually you finished your meals, and it was time to make your way back down to earth. As you watched the slow descent you started to think about what was coming next. The thoughts had plagued you the night before as well. You were getting closer and closer to Baekhyun finally having you, and now it was almost time. 

You worried that you might disappoint him. Men tended to think that strippers were always the most wild, the most experienced in bed, but you were still quite shy and inexperienced. At your job you could easily fake confidence to strangers, but actually having sex with someone you cared for wasn’t something you’d done often. The thought made your palms sweat in anticipation as you and Baekhyun finally landed and got back to his car. 

“Where do you want me to take you?” He was making sure you still wanted this, still wanted him. 

“Take me home with you.” 

He only nodded, and pulled out to get the both of you on your way. 

The car ride back was silent. You could feel the tension hanging thick in the air, both of you had your minds on what was coming next. He placed his hand back on your thigh, but this time higher up, slightly pushing up the fabric of your sundress. The action alone was enough to make your breath uneven, and with the deafening silence surrounding you, you knew he noticed. 

By the time he was pulling up to his place, your heart was hammering in your chest and you felt warm all over. 

He stepped out of the car and came to your door to open it for you. When he extended a hand for you to hold as you stepped out your eyes met his. The look on his face was blank; completely unreadable. You wondered if he was feeling just as anxious as you, if he was just hiding it better. You knew with the way you looked up at him in that moment that he could see right through you, that he could see all the tension and desire that had been building within you clearly on your face.

Your thoughts were confirmed when a small smirk formed on his lips and he was soon pulling you through the entry way and into his home. 

His house was beautiful. It wasn’t anything extremely flashy, though it felt comfortable and so much like him. The walls were lined with bookshelves, he had a large leather couch in his living room along with a marble coffee table, and everything was perfectly clean and well kept. It felt elegant and high-class but not in a way that was intimidating, it felt homely. 

As lovely as it was, you were far more focused on the man occupying it now. Once you’d had a chance to take off your shoes and look around for a bit you felt Baekhyun’s hand on yours once again as he pulled you into his chest. He gazed down at you and you could see it in his eyes this time. Both of you had been waiting for this moment, him even longer than you. You saw the want, the lust, and you felt it as well. When you felt his lips finally press against your own, you knew there was no going back. 

The kiss started slow, but you could tell he was holding back. His hands shook slightly as they made contact with your waist to pull you against him tighter, and you felt how his heart was racing when you placed a hand onto his chest. It was you who deepened the kiss, letting it become more and more lust driven as the both of you let yourselves give in to the feeling. His hands started to wander across your body. First they went down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before traveling upwards to grope your chest. 

“Fuck, are you not wearing a bra?” He breathed out between kisses as he felt a nipple harden under his touch. 

“Undress me and find out.” 

Baekhyun didn’t respond, instead you felt his hands on the backs of your thighs, prompting you to jump, so you did, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. 

You were surprised how easily he lifted you up and carried you into his bedroom. The whole time you clung on to him, leaving kisses on his neck as he walked you through the house. 

When you entered his bedroom he sat down on the edge of his bed with you on his lap and continued to kiss you, now moving his way down to your neck. The marks he had left on you before had faded through time, and he missed the sight of them. Something about seeing marks on you, knowing he was the one who left them there, drove him crazy. Although he wasn’t able to go show you off publicly, he was still able to claim you as his own that way. His self control was quickly leaving him as he once again started to suck and bite at the smooth skin, leaving splotches of purple in his wake.

He pulled away and lifted you off his lap making you whine at first, but once you were standing before him between his parted legs his hands found the hem of your dress, and your heart rate picked up even more. He lifted the fabric slowly, and you allowed him to pull it all the way over your head before being discarded on his bedroom floor, leaving you standing in nothing but your lacy underwear. 

Despite the fact that Baekhyun had seen you like this more times than you could count, you felt the need to cover yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. This felt so different from the club. Being naked there just felt natural, normal to you, it was the whole point of your job, and you didn’t care what the men there thought of you. But here and now, with nobody but you and Baekhyun and his eyes running up and down your body intently, you were shaking. 

When he noticed you try and cover yourself, he quickly grabbed your arm and moved it aside. “Am I making you nervous? You don’t have to be so tense, you know how beautiful I think you are.” You felt your cheeks start to tingle as he grabbed you and laid you on his bed before instructing you to lay on your stomach. “Let me help you relax.” 

His expert hands started to work the muscles in your back, and you realized he was right, you had been extremely tense. After a few seconds you let your eyes flutter closed and melted into the feeling of his hands massaging you. Your breathing and heart rate slowed down and you were overwhelmed with bliss as your muscles relaxed under his touches. Your arousal combined with the feeling made you feel high, and you couldn’t help but let out soft moans whenever he would work on a particularly stiff area. 

Baekhyun felt like he was going insane. Your skin felt so soft and smooth beneath his palms as he caressed you, and the sounds you let out made him twitch beneath his shorts. You looked exquisite like this, bare aside from the barely-there lace thong and your backside on full display. He leaned down to kiss your neck, leaving you shuddering at the sensation of his breath on your ear. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, and all you could do was nod, your mind too foggy with lust to form real words. 

His hand made its way down to your ass, touching you so close to where you wanted him, but not quite. “Let me hear you.” 

You took a deep breath, and forced out the words, “Yes, Baekhyun, please.” 

You felt him smile against the skin of your neck as he kept showering it with kisses, and his hand finally moved between your legs to where you needed him most. He made you gasp as he slowly began rubbing your clit through the thin lace of your underwear. “Turn around for me princess.” 

Once you were facing him, and your eyes met, your arousal was amplified even further. He was laying on top of you now between your spread legs, and you felt annoyed at how much he was still wearing. 

The first thing to go was his shirt, as you impatiently fumbled with the buttons before pulling it off of him completely. You knew that he was in pretty good shape but you still weren’t prepared when you finally saw him bare, and you knew that he saw how you stared by the pleased smirk on his face.

Next he moved off of you to remove his pants, leaving him in only his briefs. He soon moved back over you and resumed the motions of his hands between your legs, making you whine. He pulled you into a kiss so heart shattering you could feel yourself shaking with desire as he continued his ministrations. He was smothering you, pressed against you completely but you still wrapped your arms around his back in an effort to bring him even closer. 

His kisses started to make their way down your jaw and towards your neck, and then slowly to your chest. He took one sensitive bud between his lips and your back arched off his mattress and your hands found his soft hair. He used his fingers to tease the other side as well, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his hair and the soft sounds falling from your lips. 

As much as Baekhyun had been looking forward to this, he still wanted to hear you beg for him, even if that meant having to be patient. Luckily, however, you were just as impatient as he was. 

“I n-need more, please.” You gasped, the sensation of his hand on your pussy and his lips on your breasts edging you on without giving you the relief you craved.

“Say it again for me.” 

“Baekhyun, please.” 

“Mmmh,” he smiled down at you, “good girl.” 

His kisses moved down to your ribcage and stomach, leaving marks on the way until he was hooking his fingers into the waistband or your underwear and dragging them down your legs. He soon positioned himself between your thighs, and you felt hyper aware of his eyes on the last part of you he’d had yet to see. 

Instead of giving you what you wanted, Baekhyun started to kiss your inner thighs, leaving marks there as well, slowly creeping closer and closer to your waiting pussy. The feeling of him sucking and biting on the skin so close to where you wanted him was maddening. You let out another impatient whine, and finally, you felt his lips press against your clit. He was still taking his time, leaving soft kisses at first, but eventually he let his tongue lick a stripe all the way up your folds, making you shudder. You knew you wouldn’t last long with how tightly wound up you already were. When he started to quicken his motions, licking and sucking at your most sensitive spot, you started to crumble. Your hands abandoned his hair, instead opting to grab at the pillow behind you, out of fear that you might yank his hair out otherwise. A lewd moan slipped out from between your lips as your back arched and you started to move your hips against his face, prompting him to push you down to keep you in place. The feeling was overwhelming your senses and the only thoughts left in your mind were of his lips and tongue on you as you chased your high. 

When you felt one of his slender fingers enter you, you knew you were gone. Only a few pumps later you felt the damn break and you moaned his name unabashedly and the pleasure flooded your body. Your vision went white and you felt yourself twitch against him as he kept licking and kissing you through your climax. Eventually he pulled away, and you went limp, closing your eyes and relaxing into the post-orgasmic haze. 

“Don’t fall asleep sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet.”

A few moments later he was on top of you again, kissing you, only this time you could feel his hard member against you separated only by the fabric of his briefs. You reached down to try to pull the fabric away, but he stopped you before you could have any success. “So impatient.” He whispered before taking your hands and lacing them between his own and pinning them to the bed on either side of you as he continued to cover your face and neck with deep heated kisses. 

You couldn’t stop whining and squirming beneath him, trying to get some sort of relief, but Baekhyun wouldn’t do anything until you asked for it. “What do you want baby?” He breathed in your ear and placed more kisses on the sensitive spot on the side of your neck, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.

“I-I want you.” 

“You want me to what?” 

“I want you to fuck me, p-please.”

Baekhyun ginned and leaned back to admire you, relishing the way you were panting for him, chest heaving up and down, cheeks flushed. “So beautiful.” 

He got up to remove his last remaining piece of clothing before finding his way back between your spread legs. One hand moved downwards and you felt two fingers enter you, testing your readiness. You moaned out at the intrusion, but just as quickly as they entered you his fingers left you as well. “So wet for me.” You heard him mutter.

When you finally felt his tip press against your folds you threw your head back and wrapped your legs around his waist in an effort to pull him further into you, but to no avail. 

“Y/n, look at me.” He said as one of his hands cupped your face and you opened your eyes, immediately meeting his. “You ready?” 

You nodded frantically and felt him position himself. The anticipation was killing you, but finally he brought his face down to yours to press a kiss to your lips as he sunk himself into you. He was larger than you had expected, making you gasp against his lips as he stretched you out. Once his length was fully inside you he waited for a moment to let you adjust, despite the urge to just let go and fuck you senseless. You opened your eyes and saw his squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he held himself back. Baekhyun had wanted this for so long, had waited for months and now that he finally had you underneath and around him, it felt too good to be true. 

When he felt your hips shift to take him even deeper, he took it as a sign to start moving. He pulled out almost completely before sinking himself back into you, starting a slow and steady pace that had you whimpering and clutching at his shoulders, trying to bring him impossibly closer. 

He continued to kiss you as he slowly fucked you, and you couldn’t help but think how sweet and romantic it still felt. As cheesy as it sounds, he wasn’t just fucking you, you felt like he was truly making love to you. You let your body melt into his movements, rolling your body up against his to push him even deeper inside of you with every thrust. 

His lips traveled from yours down to your ear, “So, so, perfect, such a good girl for me.” 

His words sent shockwaves down your spine and through your limbs, exciting you even further as you lost yourself to his expert thrusts. Your mind was blank, unable to form any coherent thoughts aside from how good he was making you feel. Every time he sank back into you you could feel him hit that special spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes curling.

You were enjoying his slow, calculated, movements, but the knot in the pit of your stomach was building and you knew you’d need more to be pushed over the edge.  

“F-faster.” You breathed out in desperation. 

Instead of giving you what you wanted Baekhyun stopped his movements completely, leaning up to look you in the eyes. “What was that sweetheart?”

“Faster, Baekhyun please.”

He smirked at your plea, “Since you asked so nicely.” 

He resumed his motions, this time picking up the pace while one hand moved to knead and pinch at the sensitive skin of your breasts. 

Your legs had wrapped themselves tightly around his waist and your hands were gripping onto his back so tightly it would probably leave marks. The sensation was completely overwhelming, and you were reduced to a whining, moaning mess beneath him as you felt your high getting close again. With him drilling in and out of you at a faster pace, and the ministrations of his hands on your chest, you knew the pressure would soon snap. 

“Are you gonna cum for me baby?” He could tell by how tightly you were clenching around him, you were close. 

All you could do was nod and let out a series of lewd noises, and the hand on your chest moved down to your clit. “Let go, let me feel you.” 

A few seconds later you felt the pressure release, waves of euphoria flooding your body sending jolts of electricity through your limbs, making you twitch uncontrollably as he kept thrusting into you. You clamped down on him so tightly you heard him let out a pained grunt as he chased his high as well, losing control as his movements got less consistent. 

“Fuck, no condom.” 

You felt him start to pull out but locked your legs around him before he could do so, “I’m on the pill, please don’t stop.” 

He let out a guttural moan and a few thrusts later he was emptying himself inside you, pressing his lips to yours once again, this time with so much force you felt yourself being pushed further into the mattress. 

Once you had both come down from your highs he all but collapsed on top of you, and you unhooked your legs from his waist. Your arms stayed wrapped around him and the both of you laid there, sweating and panting against one another as you slowly came back to reality.  

“Worth the wait?” He asked breathily.

“Fuck yes.”

He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrating on top of you. “Glad to hear it. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You shook your head before cupping his face and bringing it down to yours for a kiss. “It was perfect.” 

He smiled back at you with that smile that felt like it could single handedly melt every glacier on earth and then some. Despite the fact that his weight was starting to make it difficult for you to breathe, you still whined when he pushed off the bed and slipped out of you to get the both of you cleaned up. He disappeared into the master bathroom, eventually returning with a wet washcloth to rid you of the sticky mess between your thighs. 

Neither of you bothered putting any clothes on when he returned to bed and pulled you close, resting your head on his chest as the rest of your limbs tangled together under the sheets.  

You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his eyes, “Can I stay the night?” 

“Of course baby, get some rest.” He said and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You laid your head back down, closing your eyes. 

You hummed at the feeling of his hands drawing circles on your bare back, and you dozed off to the sweet feeling and the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear. 

With Baekhyun, you felt like you had found your own little slice of heaven. This was the definition of bliss. 

A/N: this is my first time writing smut so please be gentle with me, I tried my best 🤧

Next Chapter

[aries-writingblog]

Whatever It Takes

Summary: When Sam gets injured on a mission, YN will do anything to fix her mistakes. While she worries about fixing Sam, Bucky picks up on her guilt. Picking up the pieces of herself she dropped in her frantic efforts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warnings: panic/ anxiety, mentions of blood and character injury

AN: This was one requested by the lovely and wonderful @cherry-season who gave me so much inspiration to write! I hope I did it justice. Happy reading!! GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break free of its skeletal cage. Anxious adrenaline flowed in her veins as she paced. Hand rubbing across the back of her neck, impatiently waiting for answers.

It had been an hour since she and Sam returned from their mission. The mission that went completely and horrendously wrong. It started off fine- it started normal. Then it got twisted in a way YN couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been watching his back. She always watched her partner’s back. So what went wrong? What went so off rails- what did she do? How could she have let this happen?

“Miss LN?” YN’s head snapped to the source of the noise. A doctor- still in their surgery gear. She took a shaky inhale, her nerves were decimated. “Why don’t you take a seat- just… try to relax a bit.”

“How- how, where is Sam? Is he okay?” She demanded, moving a step toward the doctor. The woman eased her backwards, gently settling her into a chair. Latex covered fingers pried in between her own glove covered hands. Unclenching the tightly wound fists she had created.

The doctor gave a small, apologetic smile. It quickly fell, giving way to a pressed line of condolence. YN’s stomach plummeted, nausea crawling across her organs. Turning her stomach. Bile rising in her throat. She knew that look. It was the one she had to give to victims when they weren’t going to make it.

“There’s been a slight complication.” She reported quietly, her gaze soft as she studied the agent before her. She was unraveling and quickly. Hands shaking, goosebumps raising on her arms.

“I don’t understand,” YN swallowed, throat aching as her nose burned. Eyes watering from unshed tears. Blurring her eyesight. She blinked them back roughly. “You said you would fix him- what complication?”

“Both kidneys were compromised during the mission- he made it here just in time for us to stabilize him but he is going to need a rapid organ donation to survive.” The doctor informed steadily, keeping her voice even and low. YN’s fingers curled again, trapping her hands between her own. The doctor didn’t blink, unfazed by the strength in her grip. “It’s a difficult task but we have everyone we can working on finding at least one quickly. It’s more complicated due to his blood type- we haven’t been able to find anything available nearby.”

YN sniffled, her nose stuffing up as water slipped down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste coating her tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It had been an easy mission- what did she screw up? Why did it have to be Sam? It should’ve been her, she should’ve-

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor’s concerned features. She could still do something. It wasn’t too late. YN released her hold, wiping across her face. Erasing the remnants of her distress. Her bottom lip trembled but she forced the sentence out anyway.

“What’s the type?”

“He’s O positive.” The doctor didn’t hesitate in a response.

A heavy weight began to lift from her chest, she swallowed back the rough, scratchy feeling in her throat.

“I’m O negative- does that work, can that match? I’ll give whatever he needs.” Her words tripped over themselves, rushing out. Any way to compensate. She was the one who got Sam hurt, she was responsible. She should clean it up.

The doctor’s face brightened almost instantaneously, her eyebrows lifting. Eyes wide.

“It can-“ She cut herself off, pulling YN to her feet. “We need to run a tissue sample test to make sure that you’re compatible. While it’s running, fill out the paperwork just in case.”

YN rushed after the woman, hurrying through the hallways. She could save Sam. The guilt burned in her chest, sinking to meet the rising anxiety in her stomach. Creating a turbulent, vile mixture of self loathing. It had to match… this has to work. Otherwise… she would forever be known as the person who killed Sam Wilson.

~~~~~~

The first thing she became conscious of was a tense pressure on her hand. Then came a muted, muffled noise. It was familiar, albeit distorted and distant. A small groan fell from her lips. In response, the pressure became more intense. A firmer hold. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her head felt light, as if it was floating a thousand feet above her body.

“There she is.” YN turned her head as far as possible, which wasn’t much distance, eyes cutting the rest of the way. She tried to clear her vision, blinking to wear the groggy remnants of sleep away. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, throat scratchy and dry. Bucky released his hold, standing to pour a glass of water for her.

“Well, it’s to be expected.” He sighed, stepping closer to her bedside. He grasped her chin gently, angling the lip of the cup to her mouth. Tilting the glass slowly, allowing her time to swallow the water down greedily. “Unlike a major surgery cause, there’s no need to tell the people you love you’re having surgery. Especially not if it’s emergent.”

YN’s lips quirked at the corners. She hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Sam in the moment. It all happened so fast, the whole day seemed to have been but a blur in her memory. She couldn’t recall details, her thoughts crashed against a hazy wall as she glimpsed back.

“Sorry… didn’t really know what was happening until it did.” She spoke slowly, words felt like molasses on her tongue. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, gently brushing her hair back before returning to his previous seat at her bedside. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“I understand…” He told her, a soft smile playing on his features. There was a melancholy glimmer in his irises. They betrayed him, as usual. “I was just scared that you… left.”

All Bucky had received was a phone call from the medical wing. Just that he was written down as YN LN’s emergency medical contact and that she had been in surgery. Granted, it had mainly been his fault- he didn’t listen any further for more details. The phone dropped from his hand and he bolted from their shared apartment. Rushing frantically toward her. Panic sloshing, ripping into his chest. Shredding his last hopes of sanity as his thoughts raced.

YN moved her fingers up to his wrist, the bass of his heartbeat thumped prominently into her own body. In response, Bucky’s fingers curled over her wrist, searching for the same feeling. It was slightly weakened, her heartbeat, but it was there. She was alive. A gentle, sleepy smile appeared on her lips. Eyes almost closed again.

“I’m never leaving.” She promised, applying pressure to his wrist. Bucky returned the smile and the gesture, the knot of emotion in his throat unraveling in steady increments. Allowing him to breathe easier.

He reached over, tugging her blankets back up with his free hand. Over her torso in an attempt to contain some of the heat the flimsy hospital sheets provided. He sniffed, clearing his throat. Turning his face away from her view.

“Get some rest, daredevil.” Bucky instructed, sliding his chair closer. Head resting beside their entwined hands. His blue eyes twinkled with tears he had kept bottled away. All YN wanted was to reach over and brush them away but she felt unconsciousness creeping up from behind. Waiting to drag her back into the darkness. Her mouth wouldn’t open, tongue wouldn’t move. Her eyes drifted closed; her last picture was Bucky’s beautiful face resting beside her.

~~~~~~

Bucky sighed gently, curling closer into the warmth she provided. They couldn’t sleep like they used to. He was accustomed to wrapping around her like a vine, keeping her body close to him. The weight, the pressure and warmth, kept him present. Kept him calm. Even if he awoke in a panic, which had eased in the past few months, the feeling of YN’s figure pressed to his always seemed to relieve his frazzled, frayed nerves.

But now, after the surgery, he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted. He couldn’t provide the comfort he craved to give her. And she needed it. He wasn’t blind. Bucky knew exactly why she had rushed into that surgery. The blame that she had placed on herself was too vast. Much too heavy for her to bear alone.

So he tried to convey the comfort in other ways. Helping her to the bathroom and to the shower. Making her meals and sitting with her while she ate. Reading to her, going through as many pages as it took for her to fall asleep. Keeping her distracted from her bed rest. Bringing her presents, mostly just notes that Sam had written and asked Bucky to deliver.

Sam didn’t blame her. Especially not after she saved his life like she did. Bucky had visited when he woke up, explained the situation. How she felt, how it was eating away at her. And he couldn’t get out of bed yet- he was still being heavily monitored by the medical staff. So, for the past few weeks he had resorted to video calls and notes to her. An attempt to cheer her up. Bucky was relieved to see it was working.

“Buck?” YN’s voice was muffled by their shared comforter. He hummed in response, not fully committed to the idea of waking up. His senses were still slightly dull, lulled into submission by the warm body at his side. “Your arm is really heavy and I really have to pee.”

Bucky grunted, shuffling to slide his arm away from her hips where it had lain. YN shimmied over to the edge of the bed, groaning as she pushed her weight over the side. She stumbled, her hand pressed to the gauze padding on her abdomen. Bucky scrambled out of the bed, sheets tangling around his ankles.

“You’re not suppose to do it on your own.” He grumbled, his tone was sleep- laden. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet. YN scoffed, accepting his arm anyway. Together, they crept toward the bathroom slowly, most of her weight against his side. “You coulda asked, doll.”

“I can handle going to the bathroom by myself, Bucky.” YN insisted, her side glare was fatal. Eyes narrowed and full of frustrated fury. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“But I want to.” He replied simply, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the bedroom to give her privacy. He didn’t need to, he had already been witness to every inch of her skin. Every mark on her skin, every freckle and scar. But he figured she would appreciate it none the less. Give her a controllable amount of autonomy. “I like doing it.”

It was the honest truth. Bucky reveled in the fact that every ounce of his attention was placed on her and her alone. He liked to care for her. He liked making her coffee and meals, helping her up and down. It was something he knew the old Bucky did often. The old Bucky took care of Steve when he was sick, and Steve’s mother when he could help. When his sisters were under the weather. It was something engraved in his bones: caring for those he loved. Providing comfort.

“It’s rotten work.” YN’s voice was quiet, the running water almost drowned the words out. But Bucky heard them. He turned slowly, giving her a hand towel to dry her hands. Her eyes were down, staring at the fabric between her fingers. Taking her time, hoping he would move past her sentence.

“Not to me,” Bucky responded. His fingertip brushed against her cheekbone, wisps of her hair passing through his fingers. He tucked them gently behind her ear before tilting her chin up. Persuading her watery eyes to meet his. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes portraying the overflowing kindness he couldn’t vocalize. “Not if it’s you.”

YN chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. Shaking her head, she carefully shuffled forward. Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. Bucky’s response was instant. Instinctively holding her delicately to his body. Molded against the other. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo overwhelming his senses. YN pressed closer, the swell of his chest was achingly comforting. His t- shirt soft against her cheek.

“What do you say, I steal a wheelchair and we go up to Tony’s floor. We can bribe his chef to make some of those pancakes with the…” Bucky’s nose scrunched, brows furrowing. His fingertips that had been tracing shapes on her back stilled as he wracked his brain. Mouth twisting with frustration when he came up blank. “What’s the… those color things, again?”

“Sprinkles?” She suggested, pressing her chin to his chest. He glanced down, their noses almost pressed together. Bucky grinned, leaning forward to smack a kiss to her nose.

“Those. How bout we get some of those and we can meet Sam for breakfast?” He asked, squeezing her hips lightly. She nodded, successfully distracted from her thoughts that had been rampant in her head.

“Can he eat those yet? Isn’t he on, like, a hospital diet or something?” YN inquired, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Bucky hummed, helping her hobble out of the bathroom. He had tried carrying her places but she vehemently disagreed. Claiming she would never get better if she didn’t exercise. Eventually, as always, she would get tired and most of her weight would be on him anyways. He didn’t mind it.

“That sounds like a Sam problem.”

“You’re ridiculous, James Barnes.” He grinned at her laughter. His fingertips digging into her side teasingly.

“It’s all for you, sugar. All for you.”

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cabin in the Woods [18+]

Jackson Neill x Female Reader

For @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @resparza​​! 

Summary: You and Jackson take a trip to New England that goes slightly awry.

Warnings: NSFW, nipple play, fingering, praise, slow gentle sex until the end when it gets a lil rough. Fluffy fluff & the tiniest bit of angst (so Jackson can reassure you). Trans male version here

3,350 words

Jackson made a tiny mistake with the timing. He booked your leaf-peeping getaway for mid-October, when the leaves in the city were just beginning to turn.

When you arrived at your cozy Airbnb in the mountains of Vermont, you were greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of… sticks.

“Goddammit. I forgot how geography works,” Jackson griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the drive up I-91 when the scenery started to look distinctly more ashen than orange halfway through Massachusetts.

“It’s like we time-traveled two weeks into the future,” you marveled at the bare tree branches rattling in a chilly breeze. Your rustic cedar-shingle cabin was surrounded by forest and at the end of a long dirt driveway. Even without the screen of leaves, you couldn’t see any neighbors.

“So much for leaf-peeping. There are no leaves.”

You picked up a bright red maple leaf from the driveway. “Found one!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “If I made our reservation a week earlier, the foliage would be, you know, in trees.”

“Found another!” you pointed at the colorful ground, grinning. “There’s another!” You picked each one up and tossed them at him like confetti.

“Alright!” he groaned, curling his elbow about your neck like a shepherd’s crook to wrangle you in. “I see you refuse to have a miserable time. Won’t even wallow with me for two seconds?”

“I think it’s pretty.” You turned in his arm and kissed him.

The tip of your nose was cold, but your lips were warm as he kissed you back and tried to look on the bright side. Just because things weren’t going to plan didn’t mean he had to relapse into his ingrained Catholic guilt.

***

Since the publication of his book, Meyerism: A New American Religion, Jackson Neill had been receiving threats from the eponymous cult that had him on edge. Not only was he afraid for himself—he wasn’t so macho to pretend otherwise—but he worried about you or his kids getting caught in the crossfire. The deeper he dug into the Meyerist Movement, the more he was convinced they were capable of anything.

This vacation was supposed to be a way to leave all that behind for a weekend, but stress clung to him like spiderwebs.

At least the weather was cooperative. Friday afternoon was clear and sunny—just the right temperature to sit out on the porch with a hot cup of cider. After unpacking, you settled down with Jackson on Adirondack chairs and listened to the sounds of nature as the fading sun slanted orange and red through the forest.

Pops of bright color still stood out amid the dull grey-brown landscape like flames—late trees that had waited for your arrival to change.

“You’re right: it is pretty,” Jackson conceded, your hand nested in his. Your fingertips were getting cold, so he held them to his lips and blew on them.

Tomorrow, you’d go on a nice hike with a beautiful view of the snow-capped Green Mountains. The trip wasn’t a total waste, Jackson thought. He tried to relax.

***

The next morning, you awoke to the pounding of rain on the roof and Jackson pacing downstairs in the living room. The entire cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind, and you quickly pulled on a sweater and wool socks before padding down the stairs.

Jackson was tapping at his phone, muttering under his breath, before finally tossing the useless device on the couch with a dry laugh. His apparent crankiness couldn’t have been that bad, though—he’d gotten up early to light about a hundred votive candles, filling the dim living room with flickering golden light. He must have been planning something romantic.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No signal out here in God’s country,” Jackson rolled his eyes at a wooden cross decorating a door frame, which had not been visible in the listing photographs.

“Isn’t there Wi-Fi?”

Jackson stared at you with lips so thin they vanished into a fine line, and eyes that looked ready to shatter like exploding light bulbs at any moment. “Storm knocked out the power.”

Oh. That was why he lit candles.

“And our hike is canceled, unless you want to go out in that.” A freezing mix of rain and sleet rattled the window panes.

It was easy to let another person’s bad mood get you down, but you tried to stay positive. He’d been so tense lately, he needed support. You both needed this vacation to go well. “That’s OK. We can stay in and get cozy with the fireplace.”

“You would think so,” he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking your arm off to sulk into the open-plan kitchen. “The listing said breakfast was included, but the refrigerator is empty. We’ve got… toast.”

“Maybe we can drive into town? Find one of those quaint little bakeries.”

“Out into the cold,” he sighed. “And we don’t have internet to look a place up. No wonder the host thinks they can get away with starving us—I can’t even call to complain!”

The wall of positivity you’d constructed groaned and cracked, and the anxiety it held back began to stream through. You sank down onto the couch.

Oblivious, Jackson hunted through the charmingly rustic (and empty) cabinets with an increasingly frustrated frown. “This trip is a disaster.” The words stung as surely as if he called you a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turned. Your voice was so quiet he barely heard you say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated so he would hear, lower lip trembling with the effort.

It took him three strides to cross the entire cabin, and he was on top of you, kneeling in front of the couch, stroking your face. “Hey, no, no… What are you talking about?” His green eyes were soft as the hay fields you’d passed yesterday as they searched yours.

“It was my idea to come here,” you sniffed.

“I know.” His head tilted, and frown lines creased his forehead. “I wanted this weekend to be perfect for you, and I can’t get anything right. I don’t know why you’re sorry. This is my fault.”

“But it’s my fault you’re miserable. I thought getting away from the city would be relaxing. I wanted some alone time with you. But you’re not having any fun. I just don’t want you to be upset…”

Something changed in his eyes.

“I… I’m not upset.” His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “I’m not upset at all—not at you. Maybe at myself. Fine, entirely at myself. This was your trip, and I fucked it up. I hate disappointing you.”

A hint of a smile crept back into your face. You covered his hand with your own and turned into it to kiss his palm. “Jax, you could never disappoint me. All I wanted out of this trip was to spend time with you. So long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

“You don’t look happy.” A flicker of a self-deprecating smirk. “Guess I ruined things by being a grouch, huh?”

Your face once again threatened a smile. “No…”

“Yes. I’m a big mean grouch. Come on, you can tell me off,” he grinned, leaning close to your neck and purring his words against your earlobe. “Punish me. Throw a handful of sleet down my shirt. Push me into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Nooo!” you squirmed beneath him, fighting a laugh as he invented tortures for himself and kissed them into your skin.

“Come on, I deserve it.” He pulled back, and a smile broke across his face like dawn to see how your eyes had brightened.

“Alright, alright. Maybe just a little sleet.”

“From now on”—he pressed his lips against your neck again and sucked lightly at the beat of your pulse point—“I promise”—he nibbled his way over your jaw—“to appreciate every moment of our vacation”—his lips ghosted against yours—“and make sure you feel good.”

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, falling back onto the cushions as his lips melted with yours and his tongue hunted for a moan inside your mouth. He found one, long, slow, and tortured as you tasted the raw heat of his apology.

“Mmm,” you hummed as if a chocolate truffle were melting on your tongue. “You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes,” he sighed back, lips moving against your cheek and his hips lazily grinding against your thigh.

“I have a few ideas about how you could do that…”

“So do I.”

His long fingers slid down your stomach and slipped beneath the waistband of your flannel pajama pants. You drew a sharp breath as his pads grazed the top of your slit, and he paused, looking to you with lust-blown eyes for permission to continue. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you angled your pelvis to move his fingers onto the aching bud of flesh that sent hot shivers out beneath your skin at the contact.

“Seems we’re on the same page, Dr. Neill,” you whispered, and captured his lips again.

Moaning into the kiss with a dark, gravelly rumble, Jackson let his fingers venture deeper into your folds. You weren’t drenched for him yet. Moments ago, you had been on the verge of crying, and he still had to reassure your body that it was wonderful and loved—but he was a patient man and enjoyed taking his time. Each breath and sigh was a signal he attended like a rapt student in the front row of the classroom, his own pleasure coursing through his veins as he played with your pussylips and brought out your trust and desire.

“Shirt off.”

Nodding, you peeled the hem up over your stomach, and he sat up to help you wriggle it off over your shoulders. While he was at it, he pulled off your pajama bottoms and stripped to his boxers.

“Hey, I’m cold,” you whined, pouting as goosebumps began to prickle over your naked arms.

He pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and covered you both with it. “I’ll keep you warm, querida,” he purred as he lowered himself over you.

A hot flush spread over your skin. You loved when he spoke Spanish—sweetly, with the vocabulary of a 1950s telenovela, and full of diminutives the way his mother used to speak it to him as a child. A well-placed querida or cielito could send shivers up your spine. It was nothing compared to the back-arching jolt a moment later when his tongue teased your nipple.

You cried out, fingers curling sharply into his hair as if his tongue carried an electric charge, unsure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer and make sure he never stopped. As he gently sucked and your sensitive flesh pebbled into a stiff peak beneath his circling tongue, you were leaning toward the latter. Head thrown back, you gasped out his name, begging for more.

He worshiped your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful, attentive expression, but he didn’t give you more, no matter how you clawed at the back of his scalp. His tongue worked in gentle, leisurely circles, tracing one fully before moving on to give attention to the other.

Fingers delving back between your thighs, he found your clit swollen and throbbing. You let out a startled, sobbing moan as he stroked it, your back arching, clinging to his head almost painfully tight to brace against the overwhelming sensation. If he kept touching your two most sensitive areas at the same time, you were going to come fast.

“Easy…” he soothed, sensing your agitated level of arousal. “I want to make this last. Can you be good for me and wait?”

Whimpering, you nodded and loosened your tight grip.

“Yes, Dr. Neill.”

“Good girl.”

As he languidly serviced your nipples, he dragged his fingers lower, through your folds. It still made your skin prickle with wanting, but without direct contact with your clit, you wouldn’t come as fast.

When he found your entrance with the pad of a finger, it was slick enough to press inside without resistance. You let out a delicious, tortured moan as the long digit penetrated your tight walls, opening them a little at a time.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet. That’s my good girl.” He lifted his face from your chest to kiss you in praise.

Your hips writhed to push the finger deeper as you kissed him back. He was hungry to reconnect with you—to go slowly and spend as much time as he could sharing pleasure with your naked body—but you were starving. You might explode if he didn’t fuck you.

He moaned softly as your wetness swallowed more of his finger. “Feels like you’re sucking it. Trying to pull me in. You must want more.”

“Yes… please,” you whined, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders.

A second finger stretched your entrance, and he began slowly fucking you with both.

“Oh, fuck. More! Harder,” you moaned.

“You sound so desperate,” he observed casually. “Like one of my students trying to cram for a test.” Heavy-lidded bedroom eyes betrayed his desire, but he wore a cheeky grin and did not increase his pace.

Wet sounds of flesh filled the cabin, so slow it was torture. “Please, Jackson… please let me come. Please…” you begged, but he just kept watching you studiously, worshipfully, as he fingered you slowly. Enough to keep you begging, but not enough to let you finish.

He was straddling one of your legs, and his cock pressed rock-hard into your thigh. Every so often, you would feel it twitch, usually when his fingers massaged a sensitive spot inside that made you give a satisfying noise, and he could feel your pussy gripping around him. Then he would murmur, “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Only when you were a drooling, trembling mess that could barely string two intelligible words together did he start to actively roll his hips, rubbing his erection against your leg.

“Do you want more?”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed.

He sat back on his haunches, and you wailed as his fingers slipped from your yearning wetness, leaving you so empty. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, so tenderly that “fuck” sounded like the most romantic, poetic word in the English language.

“I love you,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a yes, but made Jackson’s breath catch suddenly in his throat.

“I love you, too, mi corazón.” He tugged the elastic waistband of his boxers down over his straining cock, and, taking it in his hand, notched its thick head against your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he demanded huskily, “Now tell me you want me inside you.”

You gasped. He was so big and blunt against your tight pussy, you almost didn’t think he could fit. But you knew he could—and you knew that was why he always warmed you up so gradually, so agonizingly, so he would never hurt you. With the crown of his cock stretching your opening, the temptation of being filled by him was so close that an unbearable ache drowned out every other thought.

“I want you, Jackson. I need you.”

A thrill rushed through you as his walls came crashing down. His hips canted forward, and a pleasurable burn filled your depths as his cock stretched you open farther than seemed possible—and you watched his mind empty in that moment. All the stress and worry were gone. Nothing was on his mind but you and how good you felt wrapped around him. Nothing existed for you but him between your legs and the ragged sound of his breathing.

As if to seamlessly replace his fingers with his cock, he set the same languid pace. At first, the difference in girth was enough to make it infinitely more intense. Relief cascaded through you as your pleasure finally began to build toward a finale, heat pooling in your lower body with every thrust. Dipping his head, Jackson found a hardened nipple and sucked it until you were babbling incoherently, hips jerking to add to the depth and friction he was giving you.

“H-harder,” you whispered, and this time, he didn’t tease you.

Your pussy coated his cock with so much cream, he knew you could take all of him. Knew you were ready to snap, and so was he—so his hips pounded faster, thighs slapping your skin, heavy balls swinging against your ass.

“Yes… yes… yes…” he breathed rhythmically, chasing his climax as your arousal coated his cock and slicked your thighs.

“More,” you rasped, though your fingernails were already digging red crescents into his back, the stretch almost too much. He needed a stress release, and you wanted to be his outlet. “Let yourself go.”

A final barrier broke inside him, and he took you so quickly, it was more like jerking himself off with your body than making love. Nothing went through his mind but seeking his own release. For a moment, Even you vanished, and there was nothing but his cock surrounded and gripped by unbelievable warmth. You cried out in pleasure at the new depths he struck with reckless abandon.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck!” he gasped, fingers gripping the couch cushion as his hot seed painted your inner walls.

He panted, going still. After a few moments of catching his breath, cock twitching the remainder of its contents into you, he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He gave a sheepish sigh.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes me too long… It was fun anyway.”

“Stop that. Whoever gave you those excuses is a fucking idiot.”

Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he reached between your bodies to stroke your clit. You gasped out, finding your body responded quickly with waves of molten heat exploding between your thighs. You were still close to finishing.

Jackson circled his hips, using his spent, tender cock while it was still hard. Though each movement was overstimulating and made his body cry out to stop, he savored the way you responded to the pressure: your eyes squeezing closed, your breath growing shallow. He lowered his mouth to your chest again, stroking your clit faster as he flicked his tongue and rocked his hips in shallow thrusts. Your moans built, louder and more strained, back arching beneath him until finally, you came, walls crashing around him, convulsing and releasing, then clenching down again as your whole body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jackson’s mouth popped off the bud of your nipple as a pained moan tore from his throat. His exhausted cock suffered as your pussy involuntarily tried to milk another orgasm from it, but there was a smile on his lips. A breathy laugh.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You lay together for a while under the blanket. Even after you’d recovered, your shared body heat was incentive enough not to want to get up yet. The storm outside didn’t relent, and despite the warm light of a hundred flickering candles, the air inside the cabin was chilly. Soon, you would start up the fire in the rustic stone hearth, and you could stay cozy inside all day roasting marshmallows and reading books or playing board games. After a brief trip into town for supplies, that is. Besides, you would have to brave the storm to make good on your promise to slip some ice down his shirt.

For now, Jackson’s face was buried contentedly in the curve of your neck, hot puffs of breath tickling your skin. You held him in your arms, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So,” you murmured. “Enjoying our vacation yet?”

You felt him smile. “It’s everything I needed.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[coconutstars]

Right people at the wrong time p.IV

Part I | Part II | Part III 

Pairing: Stiles + reader   Prompt: Perhaps, we were the right people at the wrong time Summary: Reader and Stiles finally get to talk things out and figure out if they are, finally, the right people at the right time (of course they are, I’m not cruel) A/N: HELLO, HOLA, BONJOUR. This is it. This is the thrilling conclusion. It’s long, it’s cute and every chic-lit lovers dream. Fair warning, it’s not proofed at all so be ready for some mess- ups here and there. I did my best. Hope y’all aren’t too disappointed! Thank you for all the kind comments on the other parts, they’ve warmed my heart so much. Anywho, enjoy my lovely friends.  ♡

[ :: ]

“So… are we just not going to talk about you and Stiles?” Kira was laying on your bed, flat on her stomach, supporting herself on her elbows. Her eyes were practically twinkling with curiosity. It was the end of your first week and the two of you were cooped up in your room, eating chips straight out of the bag with a sappy soundtrack playing in the background. With a sigh, you lifted your gaze from the toenail you were painting. You could tell the curiosity as to why Stiles and you had been avoiding each other like the plague was eating Kira alive.

“It’s…” you began, searching for the right words to describe the situation. You really wanted to tell Kira about Stiles but where would you even begin? It wasn’t as simple as just ‘we had a fight two years ago’. There was so much more to it. Explaining it all would take time, and a lot of energy. It would mean having to tap into old feelings, insecurities and heartaches and you just weren’t sure you could deal with that right now. “Complicated?” Kira asked, interrupting your train of thought. Your lips curved into a soft smile. “Something like that”   Kira let out a breath and rolled over on her back. “Yeah, I’d know a thing or two about that” “Oh?” you questioned, pulling your knees up to your chest. “It’s Scott” she exhaled loudly. “I don’t really know where we stand” You nodded thoughtfully. You’d sensed that there was something between Kira and Scott. They’d get… mushy when they were around each other. Kira would get all flushed and Scott’s gaze would always linger just a little too long in her direction. “I mean not that we’re…we’re not dating or anything, or I mean, I don’t know if we are… it’s all confusing and when we’re talking” Kira stammered. “Hey” you interrupted calmly “Don’t worry, I get it” Kira let out a breath of relief and rolled over on her stomach again. Her eyes met yours and she curved her lips into at silent conclusion. “Complicated” You nodded in conformation, your smile mimicking hers. “Complicated” [ :: ]

“Uh… Apparently there’s a party going on” Kira exclaimed in the middle of the romcom you were watching. She angled her phone towards you so you could read the words on the illuminated screen.

From: Scott Received 9.42 pm. Hey I know it’s late but there’s a party at Danny’s. You coming?

You lifted you gaze to meet Kira’s. “You wanna…go?” she questioned slowly, biting down on her lip. You knew she wanted to; her body language practically scream it. You suspected it had something to do with the opportunity to be close to Scott. “Uh...” you made an indifferent gesture with your hand. “yeah sure” you said with a pressed smile. Truth was you’d rather stay home. You wouldn’t really know anyone at the party except for Kira and you really didn’t want to be third wheeling it with her and Scott, especially if they were trying to figure out their “are we or aren’t we” situation. So while they did that, you’d probably end up squeezed in on a couch between some passed out kid and a couple making out. Great. Kira must have sensed your unwillingness because she suddenly got up on her knees. “I mean-“ her voice was anxious “we don’t have to! Seriously! I love what we’re doing…” she stressed. You felt bad. If Kira had the chance to… evolve or clarify her feelings for Scott, you didn’t want to be the one to stand in her way. “Kira” you began with a calm smile. “It’s fine, I want to go” Her entire face lit up in a smile. “Really!? Cool” she jumped off the bed and started pacing like she didn’t know where to start or what to do. “Wait” she suddenly said, her smile fading. “I don’t really…”. She looked down at her leggings and zipped hoodie. “Don’t worry” you grinned “I got you”

[ :: ]

Stiles POV

It was crazy how often he thought of her. He wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. It wasn’t as simple as just walking up to her and going ‘hey sorry for being a dick two years ago’. He needed to show her he meant it but how was he supposed to do that when he could barely even look at her without the guilt taking over. Hell, just being near her fucked him up. His hands would get sweaty, his pulse would rise, and his ability to get out a coherent sentence would momentarily non-exist.

Once again, Stiles eyes searched the crowded room hoping to catch even a glimpse of Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. All he could see was a bunch of kids playing beer bong over a trashed kitchen table, a guy from the team puking in a corner while his friend filmed it with their phones and a girl from English making out with a guy who wasn’t her boyfriend.

“She left ten minutes ago” a familiar voice declared. Scott appeared beside him, red solo cup in hand. Stiles considered playing dumb but knew there was no point. Scott was his best friend and brother; he didn’t have to be inside his head to know what he was thinking. Besides, he’d been picking up on his emotions all week. “I’m not sure she wants to talk to me” Stiles answered truthfully “Wouldn’t be so sure of it, man” Stiles let out a deep sigh. “I wouldn’t even know what to say” Scott curved his lips into a crooked grin.

“Then figure it out”

[ .. ]

Y/N POV You’d convinced Kira to stay at the party. Not that it took a lot of effort. Scott and her had been talking non-stop ever since the two of you walked through the door. You on the other hand had been hit on by some drunk guy in a Hawaii shirt, offered molly from a girl who looked like she went to Sunday school and had your favorite top ruined by a freshman with shaky hands. He’d apologized and offered to have it dry-cleaned but everyone knew beer stains were textile hell, even for professionals.

Slipping into a pair of printed sweat shorts and a hoodie, you tied your hair into a messy bun and made your way to the kitchen. You hadn’t eaten anything besides the bag of chips you’d shared with Kira. You’d planned on ordering pizza but got to busy getting ready for the party.

Raiding through the fridge you realized pretty quickly your parents hadn’t stocked the fridge before leaving for their “healing retreat” this weekend. It was some stupid trip their therapist had advised them to take every month to “heal the hole” in their marriage.

Closing the fridge, you grabbed a box of cereal with way too much sugar and made your way over to the couch. Taking a few seconds to flip through the different titles on Netflix, you ultimately settled on some new original series and watched passively while digging your hand into the box.

Getting back up, you were just about to grab something to drink when there was a knock on the door.

Shit.

Shit

Shit.

What the hell was Stiles doing here?

Full of panic, you stood in the hallway like a moron, chewing the mouth full of sugary flakes you’d stuffed your face with only seconds earlier. Why. WHY did he have to show up the one night you’d chosen to wear the shorts with fricken mermaids and seashells on them!? For a moment you considered pretending not to be home but realized pretty quickly that you couldn’t. The lights were on and your car was in the driveway. Besides, a part of you was kind of curious as to why he was at you house 11 p.m. on a Friday night when there was a party going on. 

Running your hand over your mouth, you sure to get rid of any crumbs or powdered sugar before opening the door.

“Y/N!” Stiles exclaimed, almost surprised. He’d been running a hand anxiously through his hair but moved it towards you when you appeared in the doorway. “You’re…You’re here” You furrowed your brow; you were determined to act cool even though there was a storm of emotions raging inside you. “Yeah… I kind of live here” you said, going to fold your arms over your chest only to realize you were still holding the cereal box in your hand. Sigh. For once. Could someone give you a goddamn break

Stiles shifted his gaze and started flexing and unflexing his hands. “yeah, no, course” he cleared his throat. There was a moment of silence between you.

“so, you’re uh… probably wondering why I am here” Stiles said with a nervous chuckle. You nodded slightly; lips pressed together. You still couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

Stiles cleared his throat again. Seems his plan of action only stretched as far as showing up at your house. “Yeah, so I came to say that…are you… eating that out of the box?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the cereal. “Yeah, so?” you asked defensively. “It’s dry” “I happen to not like milk” Stiles furrowed his brow. “What? You used to love milk? You literally drank like half a gallon when Melissa baked those fudge cookies for Scotts twelfth birthday” You remembered that party. You and Stiles were the only ones that came.

“Please, it was hardly half a gallon and I only drank it” you began, suddenly lowering your tone to a whisper “because those cookies were dry” You were acting as if Melissa was around the corner at risk of hearing you bash her baking skills.

“They were well-baked” Stiles whispered back. “More like burnt. They were literally black Stiles” For a moment it was like the two of you were kids again, sitting in Stiles room, discussing which superhero was the strongest. Stiles eyes searched yours and for the first time since seeing each other again, none of you looked away. “I’m sorry” Stiles mumbled softly. It was strange, and insanely cliché, but something inside you seemed to happen when he uttered those words. You wouldn’t call it heal but it was definitely along those lines.

“For what?”

The muscles in Stile’s jaw flexed. “everything” You looked down for a moment. Stile’s voice was low, and you could tell by his tone that he was being genuine. “I didn’t mean it” he continued. “I was mad, and…” he threw up a hand before letting it fall again “I snapped. I shouldn’t have but I did. But none of it meant anything”. “It’s fine, I get it. I shouldn’t have said those things about Lydia..especially since the two of actually....” For a moment it looked like Stiles had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. “Oh” he said as the realization hit. “Oh no, no me and Lydia aren’t... we’re friends. No, you were right about us” He paused for a moment. “My feelings, what I felt for Lydia...It wasn’t-” he searched for the right words. “Real. I made this, I had this idea of who she, of who I...” he shook his head. “anyway it doesn’t matter. What does though is that I never should have said the things I did. I ruined everything and...” He looked at you with such an intensity you wanted to look away but forced yourself not to. 

“I’m sorry” You leaned your body against the doorframe. You hadn’t realized how much you’d craved an apology until you got one. Suddenly it was like your hurt and anger didn’t matter as much as it used to. Perhaps it was the raging crush or mere wishful thinking, but you believed him. Believed him when he said he hadn’t mean it. A part of you must have always known, or at least hoped, that your friendship had been to real to not have meant something to him.

Your tone was low and soft. “It’s okay”

Stiles shook his head. “No, it’s not. But I’m going to make it up to you. I’ll do...”

You had a feeling the sentence was going to end with something along the lines of ‘I’ll do anything to fix our friendship’ or something equally as cheesy and you had to stop him. Not because it would be awkward as hell but because he needed to know you still had a crush on him and that being friends probably wasn’t the right way to go. You wish you could handle a friendship, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t be around with him without being with him. Your heart ached for him and knowing he didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him made it impossible to be near him. 

“Stiles…” you began, creasing your forehead. “I don’t think we can be friends” Your words clearly took him by surprise. “What? Why? Is it because?... I mean is it because of what I said? I swear, I really didn’t…” “It’s because I’m still love with you” you blurted. There was a moment of instant regret and you could feel every fiber of your body wanting to slam the door in his face, dive into bed and hide under the covers for the next few years.

Stiles stood there looking at you for what felt like hours. You sucked in a breath, feeling the panic in your chest “So… yeah that’s why and…”. Warm hands found their way to your cheeks and before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Stiles had pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. It took a few seconds but when you were finally able to wrap your head around what was happening, a rush of ecstasy ran through you and you eagerly kissed him back. 

“Stiles” you whispered after a while. You didn’t want to end the kiss but knew you had to. Stiles, however seemed to have other plans and started trailing his lips down your jaw down to your neck. 

“Stiles, I’m literally standing on my front porch, dressed in mermaid shorts, holding a box of Frosties”

With a laugh Stiles pulled back. “Yeah, I meant to comment on those mermaids” he said. Rolling your eyes, you turned around to walk back into the house.   Stiles arms instantly found their way to your waist and he pressed you to him as he walked behind you. “What? I was going to say there are very fashional” “It’s fashionable, and I know” you said, not being able to hold back your smile. It was insane.

Seems like the two of you were finally the right people at the right time. 

Taglist: @loulouloueh

[tarisilmarwen]

“Crawlspace”

Mace Windu Appreciation Week Day 5 - Padawan

@mace-windu-appreciationweek

(I’m not late, there’s still a couple hours left in the day.

Sort of drawing off some of my “Cool Grandpa Mace Patiently Tolerates Feral Pawadan Bridger” headcanons, because I thought it would be a really sweet scene to actually write out.

Enjoy!)

---

Mace carefully removed the screws from the grate and, with gentle hands, threaded his fingers through the slats and slowly removed the air vent cover.

It pried off with a soft squeak, the noise barely stirring the tight cluster of discordant misery he could feel through the Force above him.  The Jedi Master leaned back down off his toes and set the grate aside on a counter.

The Temple kitchen was immaculately clean and, aside from him, currently devoid of occupant.  But he had known exactly where to look as soon as his comm went off, Caleb's frantic voice on the other end.

Mace placed a sturdy chair underneath the open vent and climbed up on it, poking his head up into the hole.

He quickly spotted the form of his wayward great-grandpadawan, a darker shadow against the dim gray of the metal corridor.  The boy was huddled in the corner, squished in the crevasse between one vent and another, his robe curled tightly and self-protectively around his knees and legs, and if he'd heard the Grandmaster's intrusion, he didn't acknowledge it, staring morosely ahead at the wall.

"Ezra," Mace called gently, projecting warmth through the Force to reassure the boy.  "What are you doing in here?" he asked.

Stubbornly, the fourteen-year-old scowled and turned his head, looking away angrily.

Ah.  Sulking, Mace concluded to himself, faintly amused.

"Your master is very worried about you," he prodded the boy, nudging him gently through the Force with concern.  "As I'm sure you can already sense."

If possible, the boy hitched up tighter, pressing his chin into his knees.  "I don't wanna talk to him right now," he said, voice muffling into his sleeves.

Pieces of the current conflict between his grandpadawan and great-grandpadawan were becoming clearer.  Caleb hadn't shared many details when he'd called, too busy freaking out like a fretful mother song sparrow, and Mace had spent more time reminding the man to calm and center himself than gathering details about what had caused their latest disagreement.  But Caleb had mentioned setting down some kind of ultimatum about an animal Ezra had snuck into the Temple and had been secretly feeding in his room.  Ezra hadn't, apparently, taken it well.

Mace probed through the Force, but the boy's shields had been latched down tight; he refused to let Mace in, no matter how much reassurance and patience the Jedi projected at him.

With a sigh, Mace realized he would need more direct measures to get through to the padawan.  Reaching up, bracing his arms and elbows against the sides of the vent, he hauled his torso up through the opening.

He grunted with effort and the awkward angle he had to bend his limbs, curling around the lip of the vent and bringing his knees up underneath him.

It was a tight fit, even with the wider-than-average industrial size of the vents.  The Jedi Master grimaced as he scraped awkwardly forward, shoulders and back sliding along the edges of the vent, crawling towards Ezra.

I'm too old for this, he grumbled to himself inside his head, even as he pried his feet out from under him in order to maneuver more easily.

Ezra glanced up in slight surprise as Mace settled down in the vent next to him, bringing his own knees up, mimicking the padawan's curled pose.

There was nothing but soft understanding in his great-grandmaster's face as he asked, "Is this about the animal you brought home from Zardossa Stix?"

Ezra slumped and Mace knew that he'd hit upon exactly the issue.  "There was this feral tooka.  She was all alone and had no one to take care of her.  Caleb says I can't keep her," he pouted.

Mace raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed.  Out of all the creatures Ezra had managed to smuggle into the Temple through his sleeves and pockets, a tooka was by far the largest and most obtrusive.  He'd have to ask later how the boy had managed it.  Away from his master's earshot, of course.

"He says I shouldn't take animals out of their natural environments and that it could cause untold damage on the local ecosystem," Ezra was explaining bitterly, a pinch between the brows of his eyes.

Mace nodded.  Folding his arms over his legs like Ezra, he settled himself very casually beside the padawan.  "I agree with him, actually," he confessed.  At Ezra's stung look of betrayal he clarified, "Though not for the reasons he said."

That seemed to confuse him.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Ezra..." Mace began gently, "...how often are you and Caleb away on missions these days?" he asked.

Ezra looked a bit sheepish.  "Pretty often," he answered.  "Maybe two, three times a month?"

"And in that time, while you are away," Mace continued, "who would care for the creature?" he asked.  "Who would feed it, groom it, give it exercise and entertainment?  Have you made arrangements with someone to watch it while you're gone?"

Ezra shifted a bit uncomfortably, guilt now lining the contours of his expression.  "Well... no," he confessed.

"Don't you think that tooka would be much happier with someone who could be there to feed her, every day?" Mace asked, voice soft.  "Someone who is actually able to be responsible for her, and care for her, that she wouldn't be missing for weeks on end?"

The piercing question seemed to stab right through the boy, who ducked his head a bit shamefully, acceptance in his Force signature.  Ezra looked down at his knees, biting his lip for a long moment before...

"Yeah... you're right," he admitted.  He hid his face in his sleeves again.  "'m sorry," he mumbled into the fabric.  "I should have thought of that before I brought her home."

Mace nodded sagely, uncurling a bit and settling a hand around Ezra's shoulders.  "Your compassion and empathy are strong, and well-befitting of a Jedi," he told the boy, "but they must always be tempered with practicality, young padawan."

Ezra raised his head, his face serene, and nodded respectfully, giving a soft smile.  "Yes Master Windu."

The older Jedi quirked a smile back at him.  "Now," he said, tone lighter, "we should both get down from here and find Caleb."

Ezra nodded again, in agreement, and Mace took that as his cue to shift around and begin moving back down the vent.

Or, trying to at least.

Mace gave a discontent grunt as the back of his head hit the top of the vent and he found himself momentarily wedged in by the tight corridor.

"Master?" Ezra called worriedly from behind him.  "Are you... stuck?"

"No," he grit through his teeth.  He twisted and angled his shoulders until he could feel himself sliding freely again.  "It's just been too many years since I was small enough to fit in here."

He extricated himself from the vent, dropping down lightly to the chair before getting down and lightly catching Ezra as he made his own short jump.

"You have got to stop hiding in the vents, Ezra," Mace told him, shaking his head long-sufferingly.

The boy grinned cheekily.  "Hey, they're the perfect hiding place.  High up, out of the way, and no one comes looking for me."

Mace let him consider his own words for a moment.

"Well," Ezra corrected, scuffing his boot into the floor a little, "almost no one."

A bit more stern-faced now, Mace nudged the padawan by his shoulder, towards the double doors on the far side.

"I suggest you start looking for a home for that tooka," he said, tone just vaguely warning.

"Yes sir!" Ezra scrambled to acknowledge, tripping over his hems as he rushed out the door, Mace giving a fond headshake behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

[sunsetinmyvein]

My Foot is in the Door - Patrick Stump

Eyyyy, thanks for the request from the prompt list lovely anon! I went with a slightly different angle with the “ I’m calling to cancel our date because I’m actually in the ER right now, sorry. I mean… sure? I guess you can come down here but- okay…” context, since I’ve done it once already for Mr Healy and wanted to spice it up. Hopefully you still enjoy it. (Also, it didn’t eat the bottom half of your ask, I’m just a dumbass lol)

“Pete, I just don’t know why you set me up on this date.” Patrick huffed into the phone as he tried to find his tie. Where the fuck had he put it? When did he last even wear it..? Probably for that shitty wedding two years ago.

“Because you need to get laid, ‘trick.” His friend’s voice echoed down the line.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled as he flipped his laundry basket over. It wasn’t there either.

“It’s been ages.” Pete droned.

“Just because you need to fuck someone every three days doesn’t mean I have to.” He shot back, only to hear the bassist laugh in response. “I’m not gonna sleep with someone I’m not into. You know that, right?” He asked as he finally caught sight of the dark blue tie sticking out from one of his dresser drawers.

“You should.” He yanked hard on the tie, but it wouldn’t budge.

“That’s not how it works.” Patrick spat angrily as he pulled on the tie again.

“It is for me.” He could just hear the smugness in Pete’s voice. He didn’t want to go on this stupid fucking date. He’d done it as a favour and it had just backfired on him. The restaurant was ages away and way too fancy, he didn’t even like this girl, and now he couldn’t even get his fucking tie to look half decent.

“Pete, I swear to god-” He started as he spun around and kicked his door in frustration, only to feel pain shoot up his leg and leave him crumpled on the floor.

  At the sound of the phone clattering to the floor and Patrick’s strangled cry of pain, Pete became slightly concerned. “Are you okay?” The singer heard his friend ask. His phone was only a metre away, but he felt like if he let go of his ankle he might die. Patrick also saw the sizeable hole that was now in his bedroom door.

“No. Obviously I’m fucking not!” He shouted in the direction of the receiver.

“What did you do?” Pete continued.

“Probably just broke my foot when I kicked the door because I was mad at you and my stupid tie.” He stared daggers at the piece of fabric in question as he said it, hoping that it was able to feel his wrath.

All he could hear was laughter. “You’re a dumbass.” He was going to choke on his rage any second now and just die here on the floor with a broken foot.

“I’m going to fucking smash your bass over your car if you don’t take me to the hospital.” He eventually said through gritted teeth when Pete’s laughter died down.

“Shit. I’ll be there in five.” He mumbled as he hung up the call.

“You fucking better be.”

  The drive to the hospital was mostly just filled with the crackling of Pete’s shabby old radio. Patrick was in too much pain to speak. He worried that if he opened his mouth he might just scream, so he opted to keep it shut. He was also still mad at Pete for being the cause of this. But at least he’d gotten out of the date. Shit. The date. “I’d better call her and let her know not to go to the restaurant…” He muttered as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone.

“You probably should, yeah.” Pete nodded as they pulled into the carpark.

Patrick scrolled through his phone for her contact, before begrudgingly hitting the call button. She picked up after three rings, which was a shame – he had hoped he could just leave her a voicemail. “Look, I’m really sorry but I need to cancel our date.” He sighed.

“What? Why?” She asked in what sounded like frustration.

“I, uh… I think I’ve broken my foot?” He answered hesitantly.

“Oh my god!” She gasped loud enough that Patrick had to pull his phone away from his ear.

  “So, it needs to be looked at-” He continued.

“Let me drive you!” She offered instantly. He could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s fine, I’m already here-” He shook his head vehemently, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“I’ll meet you there. Just let me find my jacket.” She interrupted, clearly not listening to what he was saying.

He decided to just get to the point and be honest with her, “Seriously, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“I’ll see you soon!” She called out, before he heard the click of the call ending.

“I… guess?”  He said in disbelief as he stared at the phone in his hand.

“Come on.” Pete said, gesturing in the direction of the hospital doors and holding a hand out to help Patrick get out of the car. Patrick slapped it away, deciding to hobble to the doors by himself.

  Once he had checked in, taken a number and sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, he let out a long sigh. At least it wasn’t too busy in the waiting room at this hour. He felt far too dressed up to be here, still in his good pants and crisp shirt. But no emergency room was complete without a crying baby and a TV that was turned up slightly too loud. The jarring noises rattled around Patrick’s skull incessantly. Why couldn’t he have grabbed some headphones on his way out of the house? He let out another defeated sigh.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or you just gonna wallow in your angst?” Pete asked, not even looking up from his phone.

“Why did you set me up with this girl?” Patrick moped. He could’ve had a pleasant evening by himself. But no, here he was with a fractured foot and a jerk.

“Because I am older and therefore wiser than you.” He spoke in an entitled tone.

“Get fucked.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

  “Because she’s hot.” That sounded much more accurate.

“Then why didn’t you just take her out?” He questioned.

“I took pity on you.” Pete said as he clapped a supportive hand down on Patrick’s shoulder, which he instantly shrugged off.

“I don’t fucking need your pity, Pete.” He frowned. The notion that he required relationship help from someone like Pete was just downright offensive.

“Well, you need something to help you out. You’re doing pretty hopelessly at the moment.” He said as he tried to wrap his arm around the younger singer.

“Hey! Fuck you!” He nearly shouted, moving to grab Pete’s arm off him. But he was too fast.

“I’m doing you a favour, man.” Pete chuckled. He was about to also need to check himself into the emergency waiting list if he continued like this.

  “Mr Stump?” A voice called, right as Patrick had lined up his fist with Pete’s teeth.

“Oh, that’s me.” He mumbled in surprise. “This isn’t over.” He added, glaring at his friend. Pete just flashed his shit-eating grin in response. Patrick gave him the finger.

“He can come too-” The nurse started to offer.

“No!” He cut her off instantly. “He absolutely is not coming.” He said, scrambling to get to his feet and limp over to the nurse. She eyed him in concern before taking a few steps closer to help him walk.

“Come through here.” She instructed as she motioned towards a set of double doors.

“Sure thing.” He nodded as she wrapped an arm around his waist to try and keep some of the weight off his foot. Patrick couldn’t help but feel the little nagging voice at the back of his brain informing him that the attention was nice.

  “Just sit here and let’s take a look.” She said as she sat him down in a chair and began rifling through a few drawers. Patrick watched her as she tried to find whatever equipment she was looking for. She was quite pretty. That just made this all the more embarrassing. Having an attractive person deal with your stupid, anger induced injury? Awful.

“I think I might’ve broken it, or fractured it.” He started to explain as he took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, trying to fill the awkward silence. She nodded along, listening to him elaborate on his pain.

“All right.” She finally said, having removed his swollen foot from his shoe. “Let me know if this hurts.” She said as she began to try and roll his ankle around. He took in a sharp breath, the pain was instantaneous.

“That… yep.” Patrick squeaked, trying hard not to yank his foot away. “Definitely hurts.” He nodded rapidly.

“One a scale of one to ten?” She asked as she gently put his foot back on the ground.

“Nine. Nine point five.” He said quickly, rubbing at the stubble on his chin to stop himself from crying out in pain.

“Okay.” She said, turning around to make some notes on his file. “There doesn’t seem to be any abrasions or cuts, what did you do to it?” She questioned.

“I… er… I was worked up on the phone and kicked a door too hard.” He admitted sheepishly as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  “Must’ve been an intense conversation you were having there, Mr Stump.” She said with an amused look.

“My friend out there set me up on a shitty date.” He said, jabbing a thumb towards the door.

“Oh? Why was it so bad?” She asked as bandaged his foot to try and keep the swelling compressed.

“The girl he set me up with is more of his type of girl than mine, and now he’s just trying to guilt trip me into going on a date with her.” He explained with a huff. As he said it, he heard her familiar shrill voice echoing in through the waiting room door. “Oh my god, that’s her.” He said, shrinking down in his chair. “Please don’t let her know I’m back here.” He pleaded. He was trying not to sound desperate, but was absolutely certain he was failing.

“You don’t want her to know you’re okay?” She asked with a confused frown.

“I really don’t want to be on this date.” He said truthfully, scratching at one of his sideburns. “I told her I was going to the ER and she just told me she’d meet me her. I tried to ask her not to but she insisted.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged as she grabbed a set of crutches. “I’m going to send you off for an x-ray to verify exactly what you’ve done. It’s just down the…” She was about to send him back through the waiting room to go down to the x-ray clinic, but then realised he probably didn’t want to go past this date of his. And the puppy dog look he was giving her was too sweet to resist. “Let’s go the back way.” She suggested.

“Thanks.” He grinned.

  After a slow and shaky trip down to the x-ray machines, the nurse left him in the technician’s capable hands. The scan took less than five minutes. But then a further ten minutes was spent by Patrick prying to know what his foot looked like. Was it broken? Fractured? Sprained? The answer of ‘I’m not the doctor, I can’t tell you’ just wasn’t good enough. Also, he’d rather not leave this nice, confined room just yet. But eventually he had to give up and go back to the waiting room. He apprehensively pushed the door open, feeling a rush of relief to see Pete sitting by himself.

“Hey, man. What did they say?” He asked as Patrick hobbled over.

“I don’t know. They have to wait for the x-ray to come back.” He said as he tried to sit down. Crutches made everything so much more difficult to manoeuvre.

“Do they think it’s broken?” He continued to question.

“I don’t know.” He said again. “Where did she go?” He asked, glancing around the waiting room.

“She went out to go get a coffee.” Pete answered. A coffee at 11pm? Geez. “Did you want me to-”

“No!” Patrick instantly shouted, earning a death stare from the receptionist at his volume. “No.” He said again, quieter.

“I’ll let her know when you’re free next?” He suggested. It looked like he was trying to contain his stupid smile.

“Please don’t.” Patrick groaned.

  The bandages soothed the pain somewhat. Which was helpful considering it was another hour in the waiting room before the results of his x-ray came back. “Mr Stump, please come through.” The same nurse called out.

“Coming!” He spoke, quickly getting to his feet. Pete watched his lack of coordination with the crutches with amusement, at one point sticking his foot out just to be difficult. Patrick stomped on it with his good foot, earning a yelp out of the bassist.

“Take a seat.” The nurse said when he eventually managed to get into the room.

“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” Patrick asked as he leaned his crutches against the wall.

“What?” She asked, seemingly caught off guard.

“You keep calling me Mr Stump.” He elaborated, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well… it’s just procedure, I guess? We’re told to refer to patients by their surname.” She answered.

“You can call me Patrick.” He said. She looked over at him, and he suddenly felt self-conscious under her stare. “Uh, if you want, anyway.” He added with a nervous grin. She just smiled back at him.

  “Looking at your x-rays, it’s not broken.” She said, bringing them up on her screen.

“Oh, that’s good.” He said, the news brightening his mood.

“You’ve just dislocated it.” She continued, pointing out the leg bone that wasn’t sitting flush with his foot like it should be on the scan.

“That’s… not good.” He said quietly. The worries started building in his head about what that meant for their gig next weekend. Would he even be able to walk by then? Let alone be on stage for an hour?

“It’s not great Patrick, no.” She laughed lightly. The way she said his name pulled him out of his spiralling. “You really did a number on yourself.” The smile on her face made his heart rate start climbing. He realised after a second that he was just staring at her like a love-sick puppy, and should probably say something.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “So, um… What do I do now?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look at the x-ray.

“We’re going to need to move the bones back into place.” She replied. He instantly grimaced. “It won’t be as bad as you think. It’ll hurt less once it’s sorted.” She reassured him.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He nodded grimly as he pulled a hand through his hair.

  “We’re going to need to take you through to one of the doctors to get them to do it.” She said as she stood up and started moving towards the doors.

“Aw, man. More walking?” He complained. “These crutches are so hard to use.” He mumbled as he got to his feet.

“Have you adjusted them?” She questioned.

“What?”

“Have you adjusted them? To be correct to your height?”

“Oh, uh… no? How do I do that?” He stared down at the large metal contraptions. After a brief moment of laughing at him, she helped him sort out the crutches to be more comfortable. Usually, he would get pretty defensive at being laughed at, but in this moment, he was just happy to have made the cute girl laugh. Maybe all the adrenalin was messing with his brain.

  As they stepped out into the waiting room, the nurse nudged his shoulder. “It would seem your friend is having a better night than you are.” She said quietly.

“Huh?” He looked around the room in confusion, before spotting what she was referring to. He caught sight of Pete walking out of the hospital, with his date hanging off his arm. The bastard then had the audacity to turn around and flash Patrick a thumbs up over his shoulder. The fucker.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Patrick said through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his crutches.

“Wait until your foot is better first.” He heard the nurse say.

“What?” He frowned.

“Don’t wanna give him any extra advantages or you might not succeed.” She explained.

He looked at her in bewilderment for a second, before starting to laugh. “I’m liking you more and more by the minute.”

  She ushered him through to the doctor’s room, leaving him sat there waiting and worrying for the next twenty-five minutes. Finally, a doctor came in to reposition his foot. They ran him through a few things that they were going to do, before just jumping right in. The pain was on a new level from anything he had felt before as the doctor forcibly moved his bones. But once it was set as it should be, it started to ebb away slightly. Once the procedure was done, the doctor relegated him back to the nurse’s office. He sat quietly, massaging his ankle slightly to try and relieve some of the ache.

“Patrick, good to see you still in one piece.” She said as she came back into the room.

He looked up at her in surprise, unable to stop himself from cracking a smile. “Good to have my foot reconnected to my leg.” He shot back.

“The doctors sorted you out, then?”

“Yeah.” He nodded as he fiddled with the hat in his hands. “They said you had some medication for me?” He added.

“Yes. I do.” She began grabbing a box out from the cupboard above her computer before handing it to him. “Only take these painkillers once a day - I’d recommend using them to sleep.” She instructed with a serious expression.

“Got it.”

“Keep your foot elevated when you can to reduce the swelling, ice it if it’s hurting too much.” She continued.

“Okay. I can do that.”

  “And if you’re really struggling,” She started, handing him some paperwork. “Feel free to ask me for help.”

He looked at her in confusion, before looking down at the papers to see a number written across the top. It took him a second for the pieces to click into place. “Really?” He grinned in disbelief.

“Take care of yourself, Patrick.” She smiled sweetly.

“But if I don’t, I’ll see you more.” He pointed out.

“You can see me without injuring yourself.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at his suggestion.

“Good to know.” He felt like his heart was beating so fast it might explode.

“Terrible night a little bit better now?”

“Much.”

[eleven-times-lively]

Blood Relations

I would love a George x reader fic where the reader is Draco Malfoy’s older sister so she’s the same age as George and they’re secretly dating because they don’t know how their families would react. A lot of fluff, some angst with a nice ending @andineversawyoucoming

Summary: You’re in love with George Weasley, much to the dismay of your brother Draco. Word Count: 2487 Note: This fic has so much angst I love it. Also a ton of fluff! 💕

You tugged on the sleeves of your Malfoy blazer - an article which your parents had insisted you and Draco wear - and prepared for your final goodbyes. It was unusually hot for September, and the woolen garment certainly wasn’t helping.

“Be safe, be cordial, stay intelligent, and do our name proud.” Your mother gave you a warm smile before wrapping you in a hug. “And please watch out for you brother.”

“Fifth year, mum. I think he can handle himself.” Your father shot you a look as you gave you the typical handshake.

You stood on the first step of the train, waiting for Draco to receive his farewell. “See you at Christmas!” Your mother waved you both goodbye one last time as you disappeared in the train.

“You're going to be alright?” You looked at your brother, speaking more of a statement than a fact. He merely rolled his eyes and entered the cabin with his friends. Chuckling lightly, you went to go find your own compatriots. You found the tufts of fiery red hair a few cabins down from Draco’s. “Merlin it’s been a while!” You smiled from ear to ear as you eyed the twins for the first time in two months. 

“Can you believe it’s seventh year already?” Fred exclaimed, standing to wrap you in a warm embrace. 

“Crazy isn’t it?” George gave you an equally warm hug, kissing you lightly. Fred pretended to gag from behind you. “Missed you darling.” He had a raspy voice, akin to that of the early mornings, only spoken when he was either deeply turned on or deep in thought. 

“Missed you too my love.” You captured him in another, longer kiss, relishing in the moment. The pair of you finally sat back down, and you curled up into George’s side. “So tell me about your summer!”

***

A while later, the train screeched into the station and students were flooding off from all angles. Passing the horde of Slytherins, you reluctantly let go of George’s hand. He understood, looking away coyly. You absolutely detested the secrecy of your relationship, but you knew it was out of necessity. All you had to go was graduate, then you’d be away from the scrutiny of your family and fellow Slytherins. 

After Dumbledore’s long speech and grand feast, all of the students were dismissed to their dorms. 

“Night Georgie,” you whispered, giving your boyfriend a quick kiss outside the Gryffindor common room.

“Will I see you later?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you another kiss as he pulled you in closer.

“I don’t know, Georgie. Maybe let’s get settled in first yeah?”

“Sure.” Relishing in one last kiss, the two of you bid goodnight.

***

The weeks passed as you enjoyed your final year at Hogwarts. Your relationship remained a secret, Christmas break was only a week away and you couldn’t wait for when you could love George freely. You were trapped in your thoughts as you wandered down to the quidditch pitch. It had become commonplace for you and George to sneak out at night, able to be a couple without the chance of anyone seeing.

You wrapped your arms around George’s waist, jostling the snow off his hair. “Hi,” you murmured. 

He turned around in your arms, smiling brightly. He gave you a tender, warm kiss that lasted a wonderfully long while. “Missed you.”

“Georgie, it’s been a few hours,” you chuckled, giving him another quick peck. “But I missed you too.”

“I have something for you,” he said, smile never faltering, eyes never leaving yours. He could sense your confusion. “I know it’s close to Christmas, love, but I wanted to give you this in private.” He fished around in his pocket, emerging with a smallbox. He held it out to you, trying to suppress his excitement.

Growing up a Malfoy, you knew a jewelry box when you saw one. You opened the small velvet case to reveal a golden bracelet. “George,” you gasped, picking up the accessory to examine it. You noticed two small heart shaped charms, one emblazoned with the Weasley crest and the other with the Malfoy crest. “Merlin how did you afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, silencing you with a kiss. He slipped the bracelet from your fingers, reaching to clasp it onto your wrist. 

“I love you so much.” You captured his lips in a loving kiss, both of you moving together in perfect harmony. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

“What the hell!” Your kiss was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from across the pitch. You turned to see the beet red face of your brother, looking on in awe. 

“Draco!” You shouted, quickly pulling away from George. The three of you were frozen in fear and confusion, no one knowing how to proceed. “What are you doing out here!?”

“I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Just some quidditch practice! Doesn’t matter!”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. Did the great Draco Malfoy need some help?”

“Oh shut up! You, y/n Malfoy are snogging a Weasley!”

“Oh go to bed rat face!”

“Wait until father hears about this!” He stormed off, red in the face.

You groaned in frustration, thudding into George’s chest. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” you mumbled. He rubbed your back, attempting to calm and soothe you.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, love.”

“It’s my father, George. Surely it won’t be.”

“We just have to make it through Christmas and hope Draco doesn’t say anything.”

You sighed, trying to clear your thoughts. George gave you a final kiss before leading you back inside.

***

You stared out the window of the train, mesmerized by the rolling hills zooming by. George drew you out of your thoughts, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything, okay, love?”

You hummed in response, pulling away from the window to lean into George. “Just nervous.”

“Don’t be, y/n. I’m sure Draco’s forgotten by now and everything will be fine.”

“You underestimate the memory of my brother.” You sighed, letting your eyes shut. George’s rhythmic breathing and the soft thumps of the train lulled you to sleep for the remainder of the trip.

“Y/n Malfoy!” Your mother shouted as you stepped off the train, still laden with sleep. You groaned, continuing your descent from the train as George handed you your bag.

“See you later, Georgie,” you whispered, “love you.” You approached your pair of parents. “Mother.” You gave her an attempt at a smile.

She gave you a small hug. “Your father wishes to speak with you.” With that, she drifted off, presumably to find Draco.

“Father.”

“How is school, y/n.”

“Well, thank you. Still top of my class, you’ll be happy to know.”

He nodded, eyeing you up and down. His gaze was daunting, he looked as if he was about to bend down and swallow you whole. His act only lasted for so long once he realized you weren’t going to speak first. “A Weasley, y/n? Honestly what has gotten into you!”

“We can discuss this later father.” You looked him up and down with the same stern expression, noticing your mother and brother appear behind him. “We’re in public.”

“Very well. Come.” Gripping your forearm, he led you off, apparating the four of you back to Malfoy Manor. You stepped inside, trying to scurry up the stairs quickly. “Y/n,” boomed the stern voice of your father. He hadn’t forgotten. “Front room. Now.”

You sat down on the large velvet couch, your father perched on the chair by the fireplace in front of you. He turned his head sharply, hearing the sharp snicker that could only belong to your brother. “Draco. To your room now. Nosiness will get you nowhere.” You sighed dreading what was to come. “Y/n, I’m very disappointed in you. I’m sure you know why.”

“No, father. Please explain it to me.” There was a sharp annoyance in your voice, and you made sure your father could hear it.

“For years!” He boomed, standing over you as his inherent grandiosity took over. “For years, no, generations the Malfoy name has struck fear into the hearts of those unworthy! Dozens of our own ancestors long before myself have spent centuries growing the power of our name, and all for you to ruin it!”

“I’ve ruined nothing, father!” Your lips were pursed, ready to fight any sentiment he had to throw at you. “You're too stuck up to see past yourself!” You immediately shrunk backwards, realizing your mistake.

“Upstairs, now!” He was read in the face, pointing across the room at the grand staircase. Huffing, you shuffled upward. 

Slamming the door behind you, you flopped down onto the bed. Hot tears began to stream down your face as you tried to keep quiet. You thought of George, his bright face, his tender kisses, his warm hugs. He gave you the world, and you couldn’t even welcome him into yours. You didn’t deserve him at all.

***

You hadn’t even noticed it was morning when you rolled over in the bed. Groaning, you untangled yourself from your robes and stood. You stretched, peering out the curtains at the lush gardens spanning for nearly a mile. The same guilt and dread from last night was struck bad into you, and every became heavy. Dragging your feet, you pulled on a comfortable cashmere sweater and some more casual pants. Twisting up your hair, you headed towards your door, preparing to face your father.  Before you could even push open the door, your mother was entering the room.

“Mum,” you gasped, clearly caught off guard. 

“Sit, honey.” She spoke gently, warmth in her tone. A welcome change compared to the icy harshness of your father. “Can we talk about last night?”

“Mum, I’m terribly sorry for-”

“None of that, dear. I’m sorry about your father.” She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You know he just wants the best for you… and the Malfoy name. You can’t take it personally.”

“I know, but it still hurts.” You tried to fight the few tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Of course it does dear. Naturally, your father is a stubborn man, and all you can do to make him change his mind is forcefully prove him wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s invite George Weasley over for dinner. I’d love to meet the man you’re so enamored with, and perhaps getting to know the boy will allow your father to reevaluate his positions.”

You smiled weakly at your mother, trying to hide how truly excited you were. “Thank you so much, mum.”

“Of course, dear.” She kissed your forehead, leaving you in your room.

***

The hours went by dreadfully slow as you waited for dinner. You had put on one of your nicer dinner dresses, and even done up your hair and makeup. You wanted to look good for George, and of course make a good impression on your father. You had written George immediately, and received a prompt response in return.

Soon enough, the grand doorbells were going off and you were running down the stairs. “Georgie!” You exclaimed as you threw open the door. You jumped into his arms, not caring who saw. “Missed you,” you muttered, giving him a quick kiss. Your father cleared his throat behind you, pulling you and George out of the haze of each other.

“Mr. Malfoy,” George gave a warm smile, outstretching his hand.

Your father hummed, rather unimpressed. “Mr. Weasley.”

“George, hello,” your mother interrupted, thankfully cutting the thick tension in the room. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.” She shook George’s hand lightly, genuinely smiling at him.

“You as well, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for letting me into your lovely home.”She smiled in response, leading the group into the formal dining room. You all sat down, enjoying the meticulously prepared meal. “This is delicious Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Thank you so much, George, you’re frankly too kind. You know my children rarely compliment me anymore,” she quipped. You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“So George,” your father interrupted the lighthearted mood. “Why my daughter?”

“Father!” You gasped, appalled at his harsh bluntness.

“Y/n, please. I’m serious Mr. Weasley. Of all the people at Hogwarts, there weren’t any other blood traitors to fraternize with?”

“That’s enough father!” You stood, wrapping a protective arm around George.

“Frankly, y/n, I’ve had quite enough with your attitude today!” He stood up, storming off and upstairs. Your mother hid her reddened face in her hand while draco cackled in amusement. 

You let out a shout in frustration, collapsing into George’s chest. “We’ll be going now mother, thank you for everything.”

“Y/n, George, wait.” She cut you off just as the both of you were nearly out the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you Mister Weasley. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a wonderful match for my daughter. Come back any time, hopefully we can do this again with Draco or Lucius.” He nodded, smiling warmly to silently thank her.

***

You groaned, pulling George into a tight hug once you reached the front steps of the burrow. “I’m so sorry George,” you muttered, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright, y/n.” He hummed stroking your hair gently, waiting for you to calm down in his arms. “There’s nothing you can do about your family. You’re a bloody wonderful person and I love you dearly, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Georgie.” You leaned up, pulling him into for a warm, loving kiss. It had been far too long since you’d felt his lips on yours in such a passionate way, and it certainly felt amazing to have the intimate connection again. “Let’s go inside and get warmed up, yeah?”

He took your hand in his, leading you inside and removing your jacket. With a flick of his wand you each had a cup of warm tea in your hands. He sat on the couch, beckoning you towards him. You smiled, walking over and settling on his lap. You curled up, resting your head on his chest as his hand came to lay on your hip. He gave a light kiss to your temple before sipping his tea gently. “I love you so bloody much, y/n. Just remember, in a few short months we’ll be out of school, Freddie and I can start the store, and we can live our own happy life.”

You were already drifting into sleep, but his sentiments made you melt. “I can’t wait darling. I love you too.” You let your eyes close, savoring in his oaky scent. His gentle fingertips traced along your side, soothing you into sleep. His rhythmic breathing finally lulled you asleep, the last words in your ears being the sweet sentiments he was humming gently to you.

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