#got that cup of lukewarm brown

[floral-hex]

This coffee tastes like bad butt but but but it was $1.50 I’ll drink piss at those prices

[beom-pyu]

i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags: best friends to lovers au , beomgyu is annoying(ly cute) , fake dating? nah... fake married? bingo! , reader is so fed up with beomgyu how is he still alive , fluff , black cat x golden retriever dynamic ??? , hinted bisexual!beomgyu happy pride month , hinted pining , nsfw , some cliche moments bc who doesn't love a good cliche

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and is referred to as a wife and "mrs" , cursing , playfully (?) threatening each other's lives , soft dom!beomgyu , sub!reader , pool sex , unprotected sex , marking , praise , creampie , cum eating , morning sex <3 , cunninglus (fem receiving) , overstimulation , dry humping , big dick gyu community please gather

a/n: another summer fic for you lovelies!! <3 i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it! (not edited yet!)

song recs: island - youha, spotless mind - jhene aiko, nature feels - frank ocean

wc: 10.7k+

[I THINK WE JUST GOT SCAMMED.]

“wait, wait, wait. you did what?” 

you slowly lower your lukewarm cup onto the cafe table before taking out your airpods—no music is playing, but you want to be 100% sure you heard him right. your best friend shoots you a lopsided grin from across the table, stirring his drink with the chewed straw in between his fingers.  

“i entered us into an exclusive giveaway for married couples to win a trip to greece for a week?”

one by one, you can feel your brain cells begin to die off at his words, your eye twitching while beomgyu smiles innocently at you. 

“beomgyu, i’m going to ask you a simple question and i want a simple answer.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale for a second before meeting his eyes with the most exasperated gaze you've ever worn in your life. “why?”

the brown-haired boy is all too quick with a reply.

“why not?” beomgyu shrugs, his tiny grin morphing into something menacing on his lips—as if this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to him in all of his 22 years of life. 

you have the sudden passing thought to throw your coffee at his face, but that’s a precious $6 you’d never get back, so you refrain from doing so. instead, you take a slow, deep breath and momentarily close your eyes.  “god, if you’re out there, please, please give me patience.”

“i’m pretty sure the phrase is ‘god give me strength’,” beomgyu retorts from his seat across from you, sipping annoyingly on his nearly empty caramel frappe.

you blink at him once, twice. “if god gave me strength, you’d be in a casket right now.”

beomgyu simply cackles at your response, feigning a scared face with his hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint before he continues to laugh at his own mockery. you kick him under the table, successfully wiping that wide smile off of his dumb face.

“what was that for?” beomgyu whines with a pout, reaching down to rub his shin. a few heads turn to see what the ruckus is about and you shoot them a polite, apologetic smile and bow before turning back to mr. drama queen. the kick wasn’t even that hard.

“did you even think about what would happen if we actually won? we don’t have the time nor the money for a resort in greece.”

“oh, calm down, y/n. you know no one ever actually wins those things, right? they’re all scams.” beomgyu waves you off with his hand before bringing the green straw back up to his lips, your ears bleeding at the sound of his obnoxious slurping. you can’t stand his face.

“and how are you so sure of that?”

“because i entered that nickelodeon giveaway thing when i was 11 and never heard back from them.”

you blink at him again, thrice this time—just in case you’ve been transported into a different dimension and a stupidity demon has possessed your best friend’s body. nonetheless, beomgyu is still grinning idiotically as he chews on his straw, tilting his head at you like a maltese.

“please be so serious right now.” 

“i am! plus, even if we do win—which we won’t—and it’s not a scam… shit, that’s a free trip to greece!”

the joy on his face boils your blood to no end. he’s truly dense; you can’t believe you’re insane enough to call him your other half. everything on earth must be balanced out, you suppose—the yin to your yang.

“have you considered the fact that we aren’t married?” you cock your head at him, hands folded on top of the table, speaking slowly as if you’re talking to a child… hold on, wait—you literally are.

“shoot—could’ve fooled me!” beomgyu lets out a puff of laughter. “we might as well be.”

you blink at him again.

“please don’t ever say that again. i think i just threw up in my mouth.”

beomgyu rolls his eyes before snatching his phone out of his pocket with the speed of light to show you the flier he had screenshotted. he shoves the phone in your face, tapping incessantly at the bottom text of the photo.

“look. it says all expenses paid.” 

you stare at him with a silent ‘so what?’ and beomgyu sighs dramatically as he lowers his phone. he has the nerve to be exasperated with you? you’ll never understand where men get the pure audacity.

“so you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t pretend to be my wife for a few days so we can get a free trip to greece?”

you look him straight in the eye. “beomgyu, i’d rather be burned on a stake.” 

“yea, 'cause you’re a fucking witch,” he mumbles under his breath, trying to hold in his laughter. you don’t know how much more patience you have with him, so you simply exhale, checking the clock on your phone.

“i don’t have time for this—i gotta get to my lecture,” you huff out, standing as you grab your bag that sits by your feet. beomgyu pitifully whines, looking up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

“would you seriously not do it?” 

it’s now your turn to laugh, picking up your coffee to take a big sip. you’re gonna need the caffeine. 

“those things are scams, gyu—you said it yourself! see you later.”

☆

nights are oh, so serene, you think, as your head hits your fluffy pillow later that night. you’re freshly showered and tucked under your covers, snug as a bug in a rug as you doze off to the lovely scent of your hibiscus air freshener and the quiet waves of your sleep sounds machine. there’s no need to count sheep—you’re completely drained from all of the walking you had to do today. all of your classes just so happen to be on opposite sides of the campus, and you’re sure your step counter is on the verge of exploding by now.

your mattress feels even comfier today, a slight breeze coming through your cracked window, balancing out the heat from your thick duvet. it takes no time at all for you to be tugged under by the lust of sleep, drifting off to a perfect dreamland full of bright colors and open fields and your blaring ringtone.

wait.

your ringtone?

you don’t even bother to open your eyes, patting around your bed for your phone before you feel the cool screen against your fingertips. it takes a few failed swipes to actually answer, mumbling out a half-asleep “hello?” as you lazily press the device to your ear.

“hi, my wonderful bff. my world, my girl, my bro, my home-shizzle! hypothetically, on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i told you that the greece trip thing wasn’t a scam? and that we won? and that we leave in 2 days? hypothetically.” 

the silence is incredibly loud.

…

“eleven.”

[NEWLYWEDS.]

three months ago, if you were to tell yourself that you would be adorning a fake amazon wedding ring with your best friend’s arm wrapped around your waist as you stand inside some modern insurance firm being interviewed as a newlywed couple—well, you probably would’ve admitted yourself into the nearest asylum.

you don’t know what choices from your past led you to this moment, forcing a smile as a middle-aged woman with the cleanest-cut bob you’ve ever seen enthusiastically shakes your hand before moving on to beomgyu’s. he seems completely unfazed and the thought alone irks your soul to no end.

truthfully, this is all your fault. if you would’ve just told beomgyu that you are not going to pretend to be his wife for a week, you would’ve never ended up in this situation in the first place. but can anyone blame you when he offered to pay for your coffee every single day for the next 6 months, and wash your car, and take out your trash for as long as you ask him to? 

right! any sane person would’ve said yes, too!

so here you are as mrs. choi (gag), laughing along as the lady cracks a few jokes, complimenting beomgyu’s silky hair and your bright smile before sighing dreamily.

“my goodness, aren’t you two just the cutest newlyweds i’ve ever seen! how many months has it been?”

beomgyu looks down at you with a soft smile; anyone who is meeting him for the first time would’ve taken the gaze as something filled with pure adoration and undiluted love… but you know him. you see the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, the annoying quirk of his playful grin, and the pure amusement that washes over his features at your subtle glare. 

he’s having way too much fun with this. 

you pinch his side hard, a small bout of victory washing over you as he flinches.

deserved.

“we’re coming up on three months now?” beomgyu speaks through slightly gritted teeth before looking back up at the short woman, sending a charming smile her way. she squeals, bouncing on her heels and you bite back a grimace at the sheer volume.

“we decided to travel a bit before settling down and buying a home here in seoul,” you speak robotically, following the exact script you both came up with in your notes app on facetime last night. beomgyu hums in affirmation, tapping your side in a silent “good job”.

“awe! how sweet is that? what a wonderful idea to travel together while you're still young and nimble, unlike this old lady right here.” the lady honks out a laugh as she points to herself with her thumbs. you glance over at beomgyu who seems to be having the time of his life and—the regret of saying yes quickly settles deep in your bones. “you pair are such a lovely and beautiful couple!”

her high-pitched and overly enthusiastic voice pierces your ears and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“well, what can i say? it was love at first sight. i knew i had to make her mine and see the world with her as soon as possible,” beomgyu smoothly recites, gazing back down at you with the same look as before. you feel the bile rise in your throat. the words are so foreign to your ears, it’s almost jarring. the lady doesn’t even notice your discomfort and continues on and on about how cute you both are, how you remind her of her niece, and how beomgyu should totally be a model.

you force the fakest smile ever as beomgyu pinches your side, a cue for you to speak up. resisting the urge to punch him for pinching you (even though you had done it first), you simply nod along with an artificial laugh, your hand coming up to rest on his chest in faux infatuation.

ew. 

“marrying beomgyu was the best decision i’ve ever made. i’ve never been happier.” 

you swear you feel your eye twitch as the lady coos—she claps her hands excitedly, her short bob bouncing with the movement.

“how heartwarming! i’m sure this trip will bring you even closer, shedding a new light on the glitter of your love for decades to come!”

you and beomgyu are silent for a beat—because what the fuck is she even saying?—before awkwardly laughing, nodding along in hopes that she’ll wrap this up quickly. the lady’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as a stiffness fills the air, clapping her hands again as he ushers you two towards the lyft.

“better get a move on so you don’t miss your flight! i hope you have a wonderful time, lovebirds! and congratulations once again!”

the car is absolutely silent as you both settle in after all of your luggage is loaded up. beomgyu has this annoying, close-lipped smile on his face, his lips pursed like a duck—he’s so obviously trying to hold in his laughter as you grumble under your breath, snatching that stupid plastic ring off of your finger. 

you glance at him before rolling your eyes. “go ahead.”

in the blink of an eye, his boisterous laughter fills the car, high and squeaky, and you silently empathize with the lyft driver who subtly turns the radio up to combat the intrusive noise. beomgyu’s doubled over, patting his leg as he gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut; and as much as you hate to admit it, your own lips quirk up into a small smile at the sound. curse your best friend and his contagious laughter.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” beomgyu heaves out before another round of giggles leaves his lips. he reaches up to push his hair out of his face before wiping at his eyes dramatically. 

“i didn’t think i had it in me,” you agree, giving in to the grin that slowly spreads across your face. you make the horrible decision of meeting beomgyu’s eyes, and it takes less than a millisecond for you both to aggressively burst out laughing, bodies falling against each other's as your limbs grow weak.

“no, that was the funniest shit ever, i swear. we sold it.”

“for a second, i actually thought you were really in love with me.” your laughter slowly dies down as beomgyu lifts himself off of you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath. you’re sure you don’t look any better—you definitely have abs after all of that.

“i just had to pretend that you were i.u,” beomgyu admits with an overexaggerated dreamy look off into the distance. you’re quick to fall into another fit of laughter but for a different reason this time.

“i.u doesn’t date freaks.”

beomgyu’s lips dramatically pout as he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid, scoffing at your comment. “why do you always have to crush my dreams?”

“i don’t always crush your dreams. only when they’re stupid.”

“so… always?”

“no—yes.”

beomgyu’s quiet for a moment, turning his head to look out the window. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, but the expression quickly smooths out as he turns towards you, uncrossing his arms to play with the fake ring on his finger.

“i’m not taking the couch.”

“what?” 

“it’s a couple’s suite. i’m taking the bed since i’m the one who entered us in the first place.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes again—your mother had told you that one day your eyeballs would get stuck in the back of your head, and right now, that idea didn’t seem so bad. beomgyu’s teasing smile is anger-inducing, and you think you might rip it off if you have to look at it any longer. 

“what happened to chivalry? i’m your wife now, so as the man, you have to give me the bed.”

“fuck chivalry! you’re mean to me. i owe you nothing,” beomgyu huffs, squinting his eyes at you.

“i’m not mean to you,” you immediately defend, hitting his arm for even making such heinous accusations. beomgyu gasps, reaching up to hold his arm where you made impact.

“see? mean!”  once again, the dramatics are almost admirable—there’s no way that hurt. he’s been hitting the gym with his roommate taehyun lately, and you’ve seen the way he’s bulked up from the scrawny shrimp boy he used to be in high school. if anything, the hit hurt you!

“let’s play rock paper scissors, then. two out of three gets the bed.”

beomgyu huffs, but obediently holds up his fist. “fine.”

three games pass by in a blur.

“you cheated!” he whines, pointing his finger at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“how did i cheat? just admit you suck ass, mr. couch.” your triumphant smile results in another whine from the loser next to you, putting his fist back up for a rematch. “no, i already won!”

“you’re lucky i love you.” beomgyu’s quick to give up, a tiny smile appearing on his face at the way you pretend to gag at his words.

those butterflies in your stomach are only because you skipped breakfast that morning—totally not because of the soft gaze he sends your way, mindlessly playing with the plastic ring on his finger as you two fall into a comfortable silence. totally.

☆

this sucks.

today is the first time you’ve ever ridden in first class, and you can’t even enjoy it because of the exhaustion running rampant through your veins. there’s a reason why you picked all afternoon and late night lectures; why you avoid any invitations to go out for breakfast with your friends; and why you have blackout curtains on all of your windows. you are not a morning person, whatsoever, and with that 8 a.m interview and your flight at 10 on the dot, you’re absolutely beat.

for starters, pretending to actually be in love with your best friend in front of a lady who cannot speak at a normal, human volume is more taxing than swimming from portugal to australia with no breaks. you swear. second, beomgyu has apparently never ridden an airplane before and therefore has no idea what airport etiquette is. 

(“you have to put all of your electronics in the bins, okay?”

“when i go through the x-ray thing, will they see my underwear? oh my god, no, will they see my dick?”

“no, they won’t see your dick, beomgyu.”

“but how do you know they won’t see my dick? sick fucks.”

“they’re literally doing their job, beomgyu.”

“they can do their job without looking at my dick!”

“they aren’t going to see your dick!”

the lady in front of you covers her kid's ears as she shoots you two the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen. you both bow in apology before you flick beomgyu on the back of his neck.)

you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch some marvel movie on the little screen in front of you, fighting to at least stay awake long enough to order dinner. it’s futile, though, because you’re already blacking out every few minutes, head lulling side to side like a bobblehead. 

you finally give up the battle, reminding yourself that there will be endless food at the resort, so you settle yourself into your plush seat, resting your cheek against your neck pillow. from this angle, you have a perfect view of beomgyu who’s in the secluded seat next to you, and—oh.

he looks… he looks softer than usual, only illuminated by the natural light emerging through the circular windows. his hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his long fringe hanging over his eyes in such a way that he has to keep shaking it out of his vision. he has his earbuds in, watching the sky through the tiny window next to him with his bottom lip in between his teeth—a habit he’s had since he was young. you know he’s thinking, lost in his mind abyss by the way his fingers fidget with the end of his shirt, his leg shaking incessantly.

“hey, gyu,” you call out quietly so as to not disturb anyone else around you. his music must’ve been turned down low, seeing as his eyes find yours at the call of his name, taking an earbud out to hear you better. “you okay?”

if there’s one thing you know about your best friend, it’s when he’s nervous. it shows with the way his leg doesn’t stop moving, even as he nods out a yes in reply to your question, seeing his jaw move as he grinds his teeth together. 

“the plane keeps shaking,” he whispers, eyes wide and worried as a little bit of turbulence rocks the cabin right after he finishes speaking. even in your tired state, you can’t help but laugh softly at his animated expression, shaking your head.

“are you scared?” the teasing tone in your voice is apparent—beomgyu rapidly shakes his head in disagreement, but you see right through him as his hand grips the armrest, eyebrows knitted together. everything in your nature tells you to tease him, rile him up a bit, poke fun at him—but he genuinely looks concerned, and you’re too tired to come up with anything witty to say. instead…

“it’s just turbulence. you’re okay, gyu.”

you watch the way beomgyu relaxes ever so slightly, nodding his head as his grip loosens. you send him a little smile, not bothering to wait for him to smile back before turning your head the other way, finally letting sleep pull you under.

[FREE MARGARITAS.]

you don’t get a single moment to look around the resort because as soon as you both lug all of your things into your suite, you’re told a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the beach just down the hill has been reserved for you two as a welcome gift by the company. you’re not complaining of course, but you still would’ve liked to at least get acquainted with the area before indulging in everything.

it takes you an hour and a half to get ready; partially because beomgyu’s showers take forever. he’s in there singing along to some random 70s hits playlist, having the time of his life, while you take the time to look around the suite. 

it’s huge, to say the least. a single pod building that sits on a hill full of others alike with pristine white walls and elegant decoration—it’s almost 3 times bigger than your own apartment and you can only imagine how much all of this would’ve cost. wide, open windows line the walls with marbled tile underneath your feet, the furniture ranging from white to beige to a palette of blues, mimicking the colors of the beach in the distance.

outside is a wide patio with a glistening pool and comfy lounge area, complete with a loveseat and a swing. it has the perfect view of the coast, the sun already lowering behind the horizon. it’s absolutely breathtaking, and you make sure to take plenty of pictures, even posting a few on your instagram story (without tagging beomgyu, because you’re pissed at how long he’s taking in the bathroom.)

by the time he comes out, his hair is blow-dried and pushed out of his face with a headband. he looks like casper the friendly ghost with the white facemask he adorns and you stifle a laugh at the thought. 

you force yourself to dismiss the way he only has a towel wrapped around his waist, chest completely bare as he strides over to his suitcase—he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence as he pulls out the most formal thing he can find, dropping it onto the bed.

“you gonna shower or what?” he asks over his annoyingly broad shoulder, hands reaching down to undo the towel around his waist. a yelp leaves your lips at the sudden movement, covering your eyes as you rush towards the bathroom.

“you’re disgusting!” you yell before slamming the door shut, locking it for good measure. his cackles ring throughout the suite and you flick him off from behind the wall—he can’t see it, but you want to at least get it out of your system.

halfway through your shower, you realize you forgot to bring your clothes into the bathroom to change. you blame this all on beomgyu—half because somehow every inconvenience in your life is all his fault and half because you just want a reason to ignore the way you keep thinking about how toned he’s gotten recently. you mentally make it your mission to shut down every single gym in his vicinity.

you wrap your towel tight around your body before cracking the door open, the cool air from the a/c attacking your skin like icicles. poking your head out, you scan the room for any sign of your counterpart, but the room seems to be completely empty. you wait a few seconds, just in case he decides to make any unannounced appearances before deeming the room safe enough to enter. the coast is clear.

you rush over to your suite case, unzipping it to find an appropriate dress, deciding on a white one to match the white button-up beomgyu had pulled out. you grab your makeup bag, as well as your perfume and it isn’t until you stand back up to find refuge in the bathroom that you notice the figure in the doorway. you jump in surprise, a small scream escaping your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself defensively. 

“you fucking stalker,” you huff as he doubles over in laughter. 

“oh my god, you should’ve seen your face,” he gasps, holding his hand to his stomach as his entire body vibrates with cackles. despite the venomous glare you send his way, your eyes can’t help but catch onto the fact that beomgyu cleans up nicely. 

you’ve gotten so used to beomgyu’s endless collection of sweatpants and hoodies that the thought of him looking like an a-list celebrity never once crossed your mind. the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest, appropriately decorated with a few layered necklaces. it seems like he decided to trade out his usual dangly earrings and ear piercings for simple studs that shine when the chandelier above you hits them. 

those black dress pants hug his legs in a way that makes you swallow, feeling your body grow warm at the way he tucks his hands into his pockets. he cocks his head at you curiously, a jesting smile on his lips—he looks infuriatingly good, to the point where you have to physically rip your eyes away from him.

“like what you see?” he badgers while he strolls into the room, as if he can see right through your little facade. you scoff, holding your stuff tight to your chest as you flee towards the bathroom again. 

“what happened to privacy?” you make sure to completely ignore his previous question—he can tell all too easily when you’re lying, and you really don’t feel like being teased relentlessly tonight.

“what’s the issue? you’re my wife now, aren’t you?” his voice is provoking, playful as you burn through him with another intense glare.

“beomgyu, i promise you, i will drown you in that pool if you say another word.” and then you happily slam the door shut in his face.

“no, you won’t! you love me too much,” he singsongs from behind the door. all you can do is roll your eyes because—yes. yes, you do.

☆

you don’t think you’ve ever seen beomgyu act so… gentlemanly ever since he tried to get his 6th grade crush to like him back—but this time, without the weird phrases he stole from western movies and the electric blue braces that lined his teeth.

he’s committed to this husband act; pulling your chair out for you and pushing you in after you take a seat, kissing the back of your hand (you kicked him under the table at that), and even telling you that you look, and you quote, “absolutely stunning, baby.”

you hope your discontentment isn’t showing too obviously through your forced smiles and giggles, that plastic wedding band around your ring finger uncomfortably sticking to your skin. 

you can’t deny the fact that the dinner is really nice, though. never in your life would you have thought you’d be drinking expensive wines and eating 5-star cuisine on a beach with your childhood best friend—you’re pretty sure 14-year-old y/n would’ve complained about how it should’ve been choi soobin from 4th period instead of beomgyu, but you’ll take what you can get.

in all honesty, it simply feels like a normal dinner out with your best friend. you both still laugh and joke as usual, reminiscing on the time when beomgyu forgot to take out his retainer before his band performed at the school festival in 10th grade, resulting in a slurred rendition of sk8er boi by avril lavigne and a crowd full of giggling onlookers. (if you had to threaten a few people to leave beomgyu alone about it afterward, then so be it.)

the thing is, it’s not hard to let go around beomgyu. you’ve known each other since you were in diapers; defending beomgyu from bullies in elementary, attending all of his self-made band’s concerts, and hanging out on your rooftop eating popsicles and gummy worms. you could complain all you’d like about his teasing, his constant, exuberated nature, and his inane questions, but there’s no one else that you’d put your life on the line for, other than the puppy-like man in front of you.

his eyes sparkle with the reflection of the candlelight as he rambles on about how he genuinely thought planes did a loopty-loop before taking off and your heart aches with a sort of warmth you’ve been trying to dismiss for so long. 

the dinner ends all too quickly, and by the time you down your last glass, you realize you’re slightly tipsy. you’ve always been a lightweight, but you really didn’t think you drank that much—you must’ve been too distracted by beomgyu’s crazy stories to acknowledge the waiter constantly filling your glass after every few sips. at least it was free.

you slightly wobble on your heels as you take a stand in the sand, a little noise of surprise leaving your lips as a warm hand meets your hip, swiftly steadying you. you look down and automatically recognize the amazon ring, your head turning to meet beomgyu’s gentle eyes.

“don’t tell me i have to carry you all the way back.” and even though it’s a joke, there’s a layer of genuineness in his tone as you stumble again.

“‘m not that drunk,” you reply with the slightest of slurs, quietly giggling at the simple image of beomgyu carrying you bridal style to the bed. now that would truly sell the act, for sure. beomgyu shakes his head with a small smile, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist as he guides you back towards the suite, his touch firm and sturdy. 

you’re almost across the beach when you stumble again, but this time, your heel actually gives out as you trip, a tiny yelp leaving your lips right before you hit the ground. you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact—but it never comes.

“yep. i’m carrying you.”

you crack an eye open to see beomgyu with an amused smile on his face, both of his hands holding onto your hips. turns out you weren’t even close to hitting the ground at all… okay, maybe you are drunk.

“piggy back ride?” you ask with a little giggle. you’re reminded of that time beomgyu had to give you a piggyback ride all the way back home from the park after you sprained your ankle trying to do a backflip off of the swing in elementary school. what a time.

beomgyu rolls his eyes fondly, but gives you a little nod, letting go of your waist to kneel down by your feet. “give me your foot.”

you give him a quizzical look, cocking your head at him in pure confusion before he pats his thigh, motioning towards your leg. still a bit out of it, you hold onto his shoulder as you lift your foot, feeling a weird sensation rush up your spine at the way he gently holds onto your calf to slip your heel off of your foot. he does the same to the other without a word, completely unfazed by the way your mouth remains slightly ajar in shock. his fingers are gentle and soothing against your skin, despite being mildly calloused from his guitar back home.

it’s enough to throw you off, swallowing as his eyes meet yours again. his eyes are incredibly soft as he smiles up at you—he motions towards his back with a quiet “hop on”.

you obey, only faltering slightly as your arms sling around his shoulders. with the new proximity, you can smell his cologne, something sweet and woodsy. his hands grab onto your thighs—one decorated with high heels hanging off two of his fingers—before hiking you up a bit. he begins walking, saying something about how he thinks there’s 10 tons of sand in his shoes by now—and if he notices you’re too distracted by his hands on your legs to process what he’s saying, he doesn’t mention it.

☆

the view is absolutely breathtaking through the glass tall windows of your suite, the rays bouncing off of the pool as you watch beomgyu wade in the water, his eyes shut. it’s weird seeing him like this—fully relaxed, calm, and still. 

it seems like ever since you met beomgyu, all chubby-cheeked and busy-bodied, he’s always been on the move. whether it be to sprint down the road to meet you at the corner so you can walk to school together, or high in the air as he jumps on your trampoline… and even when his body is physically still, his mouth still runs a mile a minute, talking about anything and everything in the entire universe, letting his thoughts run wild around you.

as much as you truly do adore his silly side, him being the main reason why you were able to break out of your shell in the first place, you can’t help but be slightly fascinated with this alternate side of him.

it’s morning now; the yellowish-white hue of the blinding sun bounces off of his skin as he soaks up the moment, his brown hair getting so long it falls down the back of his neck in soft layers. you feel like a creep, watching him like this, but something about the entire atmosphere makes your eyes unable to look away as you slowly sip on the complimentary margaritas. 

your best friend has always been attractive—that’s one thing you cannot deny. he’s had his fair share of flings, and partners (and even a throuple once) throughout the years while you’ve only endured a few situationships here and there. he’s been called handsome his entire childhood and well into his adult years, taking the compliment in stride. he never let it get to his head or fuel his ego, though; for some reason, that fact makes him even more appealing.

he’s always just been your best friend, and you both are incredibly okay with that label—you know each other best, and that’s all that really matters. never mind the way his eyelashes flutter like monarch butterflies, or the way his cheeks flush when it’s too cold outside, or the way his leg bounces when he’s excited or nervous, alike. you try to ignore the way his laughter always manages to make the sun come out, and the way he always orders for you at restaurants because he knows you aren’t a fan of talking to strangers, and the way he seems always to know what you need, right when you need it.

he’s truly the yin to your yang. but there’s something else bubbling under the surface that you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to acknowledge yet. 

a loud call of your name grabs your attention, your vision focusing on a grinning beomgyu waving you down from the edge of the pool. you don’t even have it in you to huff at the prospect of moving from your comfortable lounge chair, standing up to make your way to the large patio. sliding the door open, you poke your head out, immediately feeling the muggy air of midday wrap around you like a heated blanket. 

“get in with me! the water is super warm,” he calls, motioning you towards him with his arm, the action flicking water everywhere. you frown a bit, looking at the pool behind him before meeting his eager eyes again.

“you know i can’t swim, idiot.” 

beomgyu’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as he shrugs, holding his hand out.

“then i’ll do the swimming for you.” 

the offer is so light-hearted and casual—it shouldn’t make your heart lunge in your chest, your gut twisting with anticipation at the simple implications of his words.

you’re already in your bathing suit from the mirror selfies you took for simply the aesthetic—a simple blue bikini tied tightly around your frame. you really don’t want to waste your time here; when else will you get the chance to stay in greece for free with your best friend? 

so you let your feet carry you to the stairs of the pool, your fingers wrapping around the metal railing as you slowly step in, foot by foot. by the time you’ve made it waist deep, you begin to feel the fear creep into your bones.

“i won’t let you drown, y/n,” beomgyu laughs as you suspiciously eye the deep end of the pool, unable to even see the bottom of it. your hand tightly grips the rail as beomgyu wades his way toward you, holding his hand out for you to take. “i promise. just hold on to me.”

you nibble on your lip as your eyes flicker down to his hand, feeling the water move gently around you. drowning has always been one of your biggest fears, and because of that, you’ve always stayed far away from any body of water capable of swallowing you up whole. 

but beomgyu’s eyes are warmer than the water, the most delicate of smiles resting on his soft features. there’s no room to be scared—not with the way his hand is so grounding as you take hold of it, squealing a bit as he tugs you closer. 

“do you trust me?” and when he speaks, his voice is just barely above a whisper, his face so close to yours that you can individually count his eyelashes. his margarita-tinted breath fans over your lips and you find yourself unable to cringe away, nodding cautiously in response. 

your hands tightly grasp his shoulders as he wraps a strong arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he uses his other arm to swim deeper into the pool. his doesn’t let up, even slightly, his grip sturdy around your figure as he utilizes one arm to keep you both afloat.

“here, wrap your legs around me,” he speaks, tapping your thigh under the water. you’re sure your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, your mouth bobbing open and shut like a fish out of water.

“wha… huh?” you question oh, so eloquently, the rumble of beomgyu’s laughter transferring against your skin. his nose crinkles up in the way it always does when he finds something to be a bit too entertaining, his eyes forming those pretty crescent moons as his eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

“it’ll make this easier. i’m not trying to carry a dead weight,” beomgyu speaks as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. you’re still dumbfounded, blinking at him blankly—so he decides to take matters into his own hands, reaching down to situate you against him by himself. “there, that’s better.”

a persistent heat surges through your stomach as your brain slowly registers the position. beomgyu’s arm tightens around your waist as you adjust your hips in a way that makes your clothed core brush against his bulge. you almost see the way his eyes darken, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his bottom lip. it’s quiet, still as the distant sound of the beach’s waves and the gentle trickle of water fills in the silence. 

your arms slowly come up to wrap around his neck—you don’t know what possesses you; some weird entity that makes beomgyu’s lips look all too kissable, and his eyes sickeningly alluring. his adam’s apple bobs as his eyes flicker across your face. you don’t register the way he slowly wades you both toward the wall of the pool, effectively caging you in as your back gently presses against the tile.

you have the chance to run, to push him off of you, and go back inside—to pretend your core doesn’t pulse with want as he presses his entire body against you. his chest is warm and his eyes are blown out, and you can say no.

but you don’t want to.

his eyes search yours for something before they trail down to your lips, his hips meeting yours in a way that renders you slightly dizzy with the proximity. 

“tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop, right now,” he whispers, his fingers leaving a ticklish feeling against your exposed skin under the water. you swallow.

“i want this, please.” and his lips are on yours before you can take another breath.

it’s nothing gentle; as if he’s been starved for your taste for all of eternity. the kiss is bruising as he nibbles on your bottom lip, his tongue meeting yours as you gasp into his mouth. he takes control easily, his hips moving against yours as the water moves around you, the sound mixing in with your quiet moans and beomgyu’s sparse grunts. 

he swallows all of your sounds, holding you down against him as he bucks up into your core, his dick hard and heavy in between your legs. you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist as you match his movement to the best of your ability. you’re nearly unable to think straight as he kisses the oxygen out of you, your mind growing hazy as pleasure shoots up your spine when he rubs against your clit just right.

beomgyu breaks the kiss to dive into your neck, sucking and biting small marks onto your unblemished skin before kissing over the soon-to-be marks. he can’t keep his mouth off of you as he trails his lips under your jaw, over your clavicle, nipping at your cleavage. your own voice sounds foreign in your ears as every lick and bite shoots straight to your core, feeling that knot in your gut tightens with every thrust.

“think you can cum just like this, hm? just from humping my cock?” beomgyu pants against your skin as his lips brush over your cheek, his breath fanning your ears. the head of beomgyu’s clothed dick catches onto your slit for the slightest of seconds, and you have to clench all of the muscles in your body to not cum on the spot.

“ye—yes, please don’t stop,” you whine, tilting your head back to invite his lips back to your neck. you’re sure you’re leaving marks on beomgyu’s shoulder blades from how hard your nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, it makes his hips work faster against yours, pressing you full-on against the pool walls. 

“so good for me, fuck.”

beomgyu kisses up your neck, a low groan leaving his lips at the way you’re bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat, clawing at his skin as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“gyu, ‘m—can i cum? please, please, please.” you can’t hold on anymore—not with the way beomgyu laughs against your skin, his free hand reaching up to grab your chin, forcing your lips against his again. he licks into your mouth with fervor, your teeth clashing together. your spit-slicked lips slide against each other, wet and messy, and he finally decides to take pity on you.

“go ahead, cum for me, baby.”

your brain goes blank as you finally come undone, blindly sinking into beomgyu’s lips and his faltering thrusts. your entire body tenses up as you moan against his lips, feeling like a ragdoll in the way he leaves soft kisses against your lax mouth. a low, rumbling groan emits from his chest as his hips still, twitching against yours subtly. he exhales once he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

it takes a second for you both to catch your breaths and when you finally blink your eyes open, beomgyu’s puppy-like eyes are already on yours.

“you okay?” his voice oozes with a type of concern; care that feels all too intimate. his pupils are blown wide, alluring and deep as they scan your face. you nod with a small sigh, leaning forward to drop your head onto his shoulder. you feel his torso shake with a chuckle at the action, feeling an unnamed emotion run through your chest.

you don’t pay any mind to it, though. not while you're ruminating in a cum-contaminated body of water.

“we should probably call someone to clean the pool.” and the laughter that bubbles out of beomgyu’s mouth is enough to distract you, just for a moment.

[I DO.]

it’s a weird, strange domestic feeling waking up to a fluffy head of brown hair resting on your shoulder, caged in by gentle arms around your waist. beomgyu’s always been a cuddler, and a week ago, you would’ve cringed at the simple thought of indulging him.

but now, a warm feeling blooms in your chest like a hydrangea as your fingers slip into his mussed hair to play with the strands. you’ve been cowed by your emotions, unable to fight off the fond smile that climbs onto your lips at the sight of the teddy bear-esque man clinging to you in his sleep. 

you don’t know what to do with all of these butterflies swarming in your chest, flapping against each other, kicking up a sandstorm of admiration that runs wild through your veins. he’s your best friend—and at this point in time, you know he’s more than that.

it’s crazy to think that romantic feelings can accumulate overnight, and you’re starting to suspect that maybe these feelings have existed all along. he’s the only one capable of rendering you speechless, whether it be from the crazy things he says or the way his eyes sparkle with a sense of youthfulness that tethers you two together. he’s the only one who can make you feel so carefree and in the moment—you don’t worry about the future or what’s to come with beomgyu. you simply enjoy the now, soaking up his blinding smiles and outlandish stories.

he’s waking up, you realize, as he mumbles under his breath, nuzzling closer to you. his lips brush your neck, his hair tickling your cheek in a way that makes your nose scrunch up with a small giggle. you feel drunk despite the fact that all of the alcohol has long dispersed in your body overnight—you blame it all on the fact that the sun sits high in the sky, shining kindly through the wide, open windows. it lights beomgyu up in a way that squeezes your heart painfully, the white sheets strewn across his waist making him look so soft and gentle.

“good morning,” you mumble with a tiny smile as beomgyu begins littering faint kisses against the expanse of your neck, brushing over the previous marks he’d left there yesterday. he simply hums in response, his arms loosening from around your waist to trail up the side of your body—his touch is so delicate, you let yourself get lost in the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he softly nips at your skin. 

he situates himself so that he’s hovering over you and you open your eyes again, feeling the sudden urge to shy away from his gaze. you’ve never seen such a look in his eyes—something so heavy and raw. as if he’s prying you apart and putting you back together again. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

“good morning, beautiful,” he finally replies and you can’t help but giggle again—you feel like a teenager, the way your stomach flutters at his morning voice, all deep and raspy and sultry. his brown eyes are half-lidded from sleep, his skin warm as his fingers brush your cheek.

the tension in the air isn’t incredibly prominent—it still lingers but with a less demanding presence. it’s natural and easy in the way it always is with beomgyu. existing with beomgyu is just so uncomplicated. 

you feel yourself melt into the sheets as he presses closer, molding himself into you perfectly—as if he was destined to be right here all along. his nose brushes yours as he leans in, and when his lips touch yours, any thoughts clouding your mind immediately disperse, making room for the sun itself. your arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, feeling his heartbeat against yours. you feel safe, lax, content; all things good in the world. 

his lips are unrushed as they move against yours, silently speaking a thousand words as he cups the side of your face, his hips subtly moving against yours. you sigh into his mouth, tilting your head to deepen the kiss—you don’t care about morning breath or the fact that you probably look a mess with your ridden-up shirt and tired eyes. and beomgyu doesn’t care either, licking into your mouth as if you’re a rare delicacy, grinding down against your thin panties. 

he’s half-hard in his pants, desperately rubbing against you to chase whatever pleasure he can get. it’s endearing almost, the way he moans into your mouth as you reach down to slip your fingers past his waistband to trail a light touch over his dick. his voice is deeper than normal, stirring something inside of you that makes your legs clamp around his hips.

“i want you, gyu,” you breathe out once his lips finally leave yours, pumping him slowly. his lips catch in between his teeth as your fingers run over the head of his dick, feeling your fingers coat with sticky precum.

“hm? gotta be more specific than that, gorgeous,” beomgyu teases despite the way he’s slowly thrusting into your hand, smiling down at you in a way that usually would’ve pissed you off—but right now, it only makes your pussy drip with want. 

“i want you inside of me. want you to fill me up,” you whine out as his fingers rub your clit over your panties, moving lower to press against your damp entrance. his resolve crumbles all too quickly as you peer up at him with your doe eyes, lips parted as you whine softly, moving your hips against his fingers. 

“fuck, okay baby.”

you let him move away to strip himself of his sparse clothing as you pull your shirt over your head. the butterflies return quickly as you realize this is the first time you’re seeing each other completely unclothed and—oh god. he’s huge. your half-asleep state didn’t realize the sheer amount of dick between your fingers, but now that you’re seeing it in the morning light, you aren’t even sure if it’ll fit.

beomgyu makes his way back over to you, his fingers hooking onto the band of your panties to drag them down your legs. his eyes are almost predatory as he takes in your glistening folds, unable to stop himself from running his fingers over your cunt, collecting your juices.

“you’re dripping,” he awes, his eyes flickering up to yours with a small smile. a heat rushes up your neck, shyly covering your face with both of your hands. beomgyu’s small laugh resonates throughout the room, feeling his clean hand come up to gently move your arms away.

when you meet his eyes again, they’re filled with a sort of fondness that makes your head spin, makes your heart stutter—it’s horrible and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips as his fingers return to your cunt, slightly dipping into your hole, soaking them even more.

“i want you to look at me. can you do that?” beomgyu gently requests and you’re nodding before you can fully register his words. he flashes you a proud smile before he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. an airy, surprised moan leaves your body against your will at the sight, and his smile broadens. “you taste amazing, baby.”

his middle finger enters your entrance with no resistance, and you feel yourself clench down as he curls it upwards to gently explore your walls. it’s all too much and not enough all at once. he’s going incredibly slow, as if you two have all the time in the world, but you can’t wait. you need him now.

“please, just fuck me. ‘m ready,” you demand through a whine, pleading with your eyes, an action that effectively softens beomgyu's gaze. he doesn’t remove his finger, but instead adds another alongside it, his thumb coming to brush against your clit. you buck against his hand with a small moan as he moves up your body, trailing kisses from your hipbone, to your breasts, and finally your lips.

it’s a chaste peck, but it’s enough to leave you wanting more, chasing after his lips once he pulls back. you whine at the loss, already feeling your brain turn to mush with the way his fingers slowly drag against the walls of your cunt, his thumb just barely applying pressure to your swollen nub.

“are you sure?” 

“yes, yes, ‘m sure. want your cock, gyu. just—” you’re nearly hysterical as your hips grind down on his fingers. you can already feel the frustrated tears brimming your eyelashes, reaching up to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his. “please, please…”

“shh. it’s okay, baby,” beomgyu coos, pressing a few soft kisses to your lips. you quietly gasp as he removes his fingers from your hole. he kisses your cheeks all too delicately, his forearm resting by your head to steady himself. “i’ll take care of you. just relax.”

you almost cry happy tears with the way you feel the head of his cock tease your hole, dipping in but not fully entering. his lips find yours again as he drags his dick in between your sopping folds, swallowing his low moan at the feeling. “my perfect girl. so pretty, so wet for me.”

when he pushes in, your arms tighten around his neck, your enter body locking up at the intrusion. you feel like a virgin again, his girth stretching you open almost uncomfortably. his thumb rubs your hips to soothe you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss to distract you from the feeling. he stops for a second, letting you get used to his dick as he peppers kisses across your face.

“fuck, it feels like you’re splitting me in half,” you blurt out and beomgyu can’t help but laugh softly, his forehead resting against yours. “i think i can feel you in my throat.”

“can you stop making me laugh so i can fuck you stupid, please?”

his words are lighthearted, but the thought of being fucked to the point where you can’t even speak has you shutting up in no time. you whine quietly as beomgyu continues pushing into you until he’s fully situated inside of your cunt—you’re fluttering around him like crazy, feeling the faint pain slowly dispersing into pleasure as he kisses your jaw.

“you can move now,” you mumble, and beomgyu wastes no time pulling out, almost all the way, just to snap his cock back into you with a force that rocks the bed slightly. you can’t cover up the choked-out gasp that leaves your lips, eventually turning into a stream of moans and whines as he quickly sets a brutal pace. 

his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, your mind clouding over as pleasure fills your bloodstream, your pussy clenching around his thick cock. he places one last kiss on your lips before sitting up, both of his hands moving wrapping around your thighs. you’re so wet that his dick easily glides in and out of you, wet, squelching sounds filling the room as you drip around him. 

“you’re so tight, god. letting me fuck you raw like the needy slut you are,” he chastizes, groaning as he pulls your body in to meet his hips. his strokes are so deep, you already feel yourself nearing your high.

“yes, yes, yes. need you,” you cry out, hands gripping the sheets. “so big, gyu. ‘s too much, i can’t—” 

“you were the one crying for my cock, so you better take it.” his sudden demeanor change sends a tingly rush up your spine, leaving your brain a muddled mess. his bangs have fallen into his eyes, his cheekbones flushed with a slight pink from the physical exertion and the warmth of the sun beaming through the windows. his stomach contracts with every thrust into your wet heat, low moans and sharp gasps leaving his lips as his eyes fall shut, his head lolling back at the feeling.

your core throbs, gut tightening with every passing moment—at some point, he brings his fingers down to circle your clit, whimpers leaving your mouth at the overwhelming feeling of it all. you clench down around him, hand stretching out for something, anything; and it only takes a few seconds for beomgyu to notice. his fingers interlace with yours, giving your hand a grounding squeeze.

“gonna fill you up—gonna make a mess of this pretty pussy,” beomgyu pants out, a low moan leaving his lips as his hips slightly stutter.

“‘m gonna cum, gyu, ‘m cumming,” you babble out, your head rolling to the side as your eyes shut, the immense pleasure coursing through your body becoming all too much. somewhere through your muffled ears, you hear beomgyu praising you for taking him so well, but by that point, you’re already gone. 

the moan that leaves your lips is nearly pornagraphic, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you. all the air is punched out of your lungs and beomgyu thrusts deep into you before settling there, a low groan leaving his lips as his dick twitches inside of you.

“fuck, baby, i love you. i love you so much,” he breathes out as he cums—you feel the hot streaks of his cum painting your insides, shooting places you weren’t even sure existed inside of you. it leaves your mind hazy, unable to even process the way he pulls out, his cum dripping out of you and onto the white sheets.

the feeling of a hot, wet tongue against your entrance makes your hips buck up—you let out a surprised gasp that’s quickly overtaken by a whimper, your hand reaching to entangle itself in his hair.

“wait, gyu—fuck, i’m sensitive,” you whine, feeling your eyes brim with tears at the overstimulation. his tongue flicks against your abused cunt as he cleans up his own cum, fucking it back into you with his tongue. 

“you can take it, baby. i know you can,” he pants against your pussy before his lips encircle your clit, sucking and nibbling ever so slightly. you can’t control the noise leaving your lips, whining and moaning as your legs clamp around his head. beomgyu simply chuckles against you before two of his fingers enter your pussy, teasing and prodding at your sentive walls.

“gyu, i can’t, i can’t…” you sob, tears running down your cheeks as the overstimulation sends painful shocks up your spine. you’re gushing around his tongue, the sheets beneath you completely soaked through. your brain fights against itself, your body unsure of whether to press closer or pull away. you can’t think about anything other than beomgyu’s fingers and mouth, eyes squeezed shut as your body racks with sobs.

“yes, you can. cum on my tongue, pretty girl.”

and you do, your back arching as you moan loudly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your hips frot against his face, waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning you. your entire body trembles with shocks as your mind goes blank, flopping back onto the bed as you attempt to catch your breath. tears are still running down your cheeks—your entire body feels like it’s floating. you’re completely wrung out. that was probably the hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

you don’t even register beomgyu’s soft hands on your cheeks as he wipes your tears away, his lips pressing against your forehead, your nose; anywhere his lips can reach. it’s grounding as you slowly come back down to earth.

“you did so well for me, baby. so, so perfect. so beautiful. you took it all, i’m so proud of you.”

you blink your eyes open at his words, feeling those butterflies flock with the way he’s watching you so attentively, his eyes flitting across your face quickly. 

“i didn’t go too far, did i?” beomgyu’s voice is almost nervous, low and quiet in your ear as he strokes the side of your face. you crack a small smile at how cute he looks, reaching up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes.

“no, not at all. i liked it,” you reassure, your fingers trailing down his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. he visibly melts into your touch at the words, shoulders slumping in relief. 

“thank god,” he breathes out, slumping on top of you—you half-heartedly protest, but the weight is nice, loving the way it feels to have his chest rise and fall against yours, his head resting in the crook your neck. you wrap your arms around him with a little giggle, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“you big baby,” you tease. he’s completely unbothered, though, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before settling against you again.

“only around you.”

the quiet is relaxing, hearing the calm waves of the beach down the hill and the slight buzz of the air conditioner. as much as your brain wants to believe that you imagined it, his words from a few moments ago ring like a mantra in your head. words that make your chest tight, and your mind spin, and your stomach flutter. having him in your arms like this makes you sure that what you heard wasn’t made up in your mind.

“you said you love me.”

a beat of silence.

“hm?” he hums inquisitively as if he didn’t hear you correctly the first time.

“when you, um—when you… came…” you whisper the last part, feeling the vibrations of beomgyu’s laugh fill your own chest.

“you’re still shy after all of that?” beomgyu asks incredulously as he lifts his head to look at you. a tiny, playful smile sits on his lips and you pout, nudging him softly.

“stop changing the topic!” beomgyu laughs again as he relaxes back into your hold.

“okay, i did say i love you. because i do. i love you.”

the words hit you deeper this time, now that your mind is clear—he sounds so sure of himself, and the confidence seeps into you, confirming your own feelings that have been threatening to spill over these last few days.

“i love you too.” you pause for a second. “ like, love love you.” 

beomgyu chuckles against your skin, his arms tightening around your frame as he nuzzles in closer to you, despite already being skin to skin. he’s cute, you think.

“i’d hope ‘love love’ is what we’re talking about right now,” he speaks almost sarcastically and you lightly tug his hair for being a smartass—you get the opposite reaction you were searching for though because beomgyu dramatically moans at the action just to rile you up even more.

“oh my god, you’re insufferable,” you huff, but the smile on your face is telling enough as he lifts his head once again to meet your eyes—his hair is all messy and strewn about, lips bitten red and raw, cheeks flushed; and that fact that you’re in love with your best friend full sinks in. he’s everything to you.

“but you love me.”

you sigh.

“yea. i do.”

a blinding smile breaks out on beomgyu’s lips as he leans in to peck yours a few times, your body melting as he kisses you with so many emotions, it makes your heart get caught in your throat, your skin buzzing with contentment. 

he pulls away, sitting up to climb off the bed, searching for his sweatpants.

“come on. time for me to do my husband duties and run you a bath.”

“you’re still comitting to this, huh?” you giggle as you sit up too, watching his figure retreat towards the bathroom. beomgyu turns slightly, the smile on his lips absolutely menacing.

“so? i gotta practice for the future.”

your future, you brain tells you.

and that idea isn't so bad, you think.

reblogs and feedback are highly cherished!

tags! @grayscorner @banggyu0308 @huckleberrykai @agustdiv1ne @yunhorights @nes-caf @1921choi

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson[6.1K] steddie smut, her boys, their girl, it was time to give in.

It had been a long time coming.

Too long, in fact, a couple of years, maybe three. It started at parties, when beer was involved, lukewarm and readily available. Cheap vodka, cheaper weed, lemonade and soda that had lost its fizz, mixed with tequila, the smell of smoke and the heat from dancing bodies.

It started with Steve, a friend who became more but not enough, a boy that you watched grow into a man, all lean muscle, tall frame, wild hair, stubble on his jaw that scratched at you when he pulled you into hugs. Then years ticked over and you broke down the barriers, ripped up the rule book and toed the line between best friends and more.

You looked at the boy for seconds too long, eyes lingering, his gaze fixed on yours, staring right back. You stopped blushing when he caught you, only raising your brows when he grinned, fond, appreciative, knowing.

‘Cause parties happened and you almost always found yourself on his lap, pressed to his side in a kitchen, sharing the same red cup and he let you move up against him when your favourite song came on, hips pushing back into his, his hands close to squeezing at your ass before he caught himself, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded.

It went on like that for a while, late night calls full of whispered secrets and what ifs, an edge of flirting, the promise of something filthy if the other gave in and let it happen. 

And then Eddie arrived, pushed himself into your circle with a dramatic flare, settling down amongst Steve and Robin and Nancy like he’d always been there. 

You liked the way he matched Steve’s height, how they both towered over you when they sandwiched you between them, all warm and solid, boyish teasing, rough hands, flirtatious remarks and kisses goodbye pressed to your cheeks.

And where Steve was soft - gentle with you, deliberate, so aware of how you felt, how you looked at him - Eddie was a little more wild. Messy curls, leather and ripped denim, a smile that told you that he knew how you looked at him, big brown eyes that matched Steves, a carelessness in the way he liked to accidentally brush past you, an arm over your shoulder when the movie started playing.

When Eddie found himself at the same parties as you and Steve, he took to standing with the other boy, their backs against the walls as they watched you move around the crowded living room, hand in Robin’s as you encouraged her to dance. And even when Robin gave up, the two boy’s kept their eyes on you, watched you move to the music with their shoulders pressed together, sharing the same joint that Eddie had rolled earlier. 

Steve and Eddie shared a lot of things, you’d noticed.

Steve’s car when Eddie’s van inevitably broke down, Eddie’s stash of weed, a lighter, sometimes clothes when parties got out of hand and everyone crashed at the Harringtons. They shared cassettes, mixtapes, the key to your back door, the way they looked at you.

Maybe it was the cherry vodka on your tongue that night, maybe it was the way the strangers living room was filled with smoke and the scent of weed and damp skin, the way it was so crowded that you could feel the heat of the other people around you. 

Maybe it was the music, a dirty strum of bass, slow drums, lyrics that made you think things you only thought about in bed, late at night and alone, hands pushed into your pyjama shorts. Maybe it was your short dress, the hem lifting every time you moved, the small strap slipping off one shoulder.

Maybe it was the two boys on the outskirts of the room, Steve sitting on the kitchen counter, a beer in hand, Eddie beside him, his elbow on the other boy's knee as he leaned on him. Maybe it was their eyes on you, roaming, greedy, wanting. Maybe it was the way Steve’s eyes went darker and hooded as he watched you, lips wet when he took a sip of his drink. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s jaw went slack every time you moved your hips a little slower than the time before.

Maybe it was the boys.

Your boys. 

It was unsaid, an unofficial title that no one had been brave enough to say out loud but you were at a party surrounded by drunk, horny strangers and the other boys there were staring, hands twitching, eager to crowd into you and tell you how pretty you looked in that damn dress. But they were all sensible enough to know that wherever you were, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson weren’t far. 

It’s why other girls didn’t get a look in, why the hands on chests, lips pressed to ears and coy smiles went ignored. Your boys were only looking at you, heads tilted towards each other, whispering things you couldn’t hear as they kept their gaze on you, smiles curling into smirks.

It only took you to lift your chin and smile at Eddie for him to come to you, squeezing between the writhing bodies, a ghost in the smoke, the shine of the red and purple glow that flashed from the fairy lights strung up around the room.

He took your hips in his hands, your back to his chest as he guided you against him, moving to the music, the smell of cigarettes and something spicy, Eddie’s cologne lingering on the collar of his shirt. But you were greedy, wanted more, wanted Steve and the other boy was still on the kitchen counter, legs spread, leaning back on his hands as he smirked, watching you both.

He was making you wait for it, an unnecessary unkindness because all three of you knew that Steve couldn’t say no - not to you. Never to you. But he wanted to see you make those eyes at him, all doe like and pleading, bottom lip pushed out into a pout as you let yourself fall back into Eddie, your head against his shoulder. 

It was only when you threatened to turn in Eddie’s arms, to give the longer haired boy every ounce of your attention, that Steve moved. He snuck between the party goers, slipped between grinding bodies to find your own, his hands half covering Eddie’s as he held onto your waist, pressed you between him and the other boy.

It was something new. 

You were well used to dancing with both boy’s, bodies pushed together, toeing that invisible line and pretending you didn’t see the way the other watched from the sidelines, hungry. 

But this? This? 

You were warm all over, the width of your sides covered by the expanse of two pairs of hands. Eddie’s hair was tickling your neck, his head dipped to brush his cheek over your own, your ass pressed into the denim of his jeans and god, he was hard, you could feel it. 

Your own hands went to Steve’s chest, muscles flexing under your touch, a sharp inhale of breath that you could feel under your palms when you smoothed them up and over his shoulders, holding on for dear fucking life. He tucked his own face down to yours, caught your gaze in a silent question, a raise of his brows, one that asked ‘is this okay? Is this what you want?’

You answered by threading your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to you a little tighter and Steve tugged you into him in response, your tits pressed up against him and shit, you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat, if he could feel the way it rattled your fucking bones. 

Eddie’s lips skimmed your shoulder as you stared at Steve, goosebumps rippling across all that bare skin you had on show and Steve dipped his head, let his nose brush against your own, let it nudge at your cheek and Eddie was closer, brushing your hair away from your face so he could watch.

His hand squeezed at you, encouraging, his lips at the shell of your ear, his breath heavy as the three of you moved to the beat together. If people were staring, not one of you noticed.

You didn’t move when Steve crowded you further, pressed you into Eddie until you tipped your head back for him, let it fall back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, throat exposed for Steve to blow cool air over. The tip of his nose nudged at you again, drew a line up your throat until he hit your jaw and you were fisting your hands in the front of his shirt. Desperate. 

He hadn’t put his mouth on you. Not yet. A line still uncrossed. 

But then Eddie was tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes dark as he looked down at you, ringed fingers catching through your strands, cupping the back of your neck and coaxing you forward. Towards Steve. The bass dropped, the chorus kicked in and Eddie was looking at the other boy expectantly, lips parted, waiting. 

His other hand left your waist, cupped Steve’s jaw instead, a thumb decorated in silver soothing over the line of his cheekbone and he was bringing him forward too. 

‘C’mon,’ his touch said, ‘you know you want to.’

Steve’s forehead touched yours, skin slick, hot to touch and Eddie’s wide hands were back around your waist, hips grinding against your ass, a slow, dangerous burn.

Unholy, you thought.

He took his time, like he always did. Kept you waiting, teasing, needy. Steve held his lips over your own, hovering so you were breathing in what he was breathing out, sharing everything. His hands were still holding your waist, holding you steady for the other boy to move against you, holding you upright so he could wedge a knee between your legs, letting Eddie push you to grind up and down his thigh. 

Then, when you were panting, when he felt your breath hitch, a missed huff of air over his lips, Steve kissed you. 

It was innocent in the most awful way. A slip of his lips between yours, a slide of his top one, the curve of his bottom catching at yours. Teasing, testing, asking. One hand found your jaw, big enough that his palm covered most of your cheek, his thumb pushing at the plush of your cheek until your mouth fell into a pout for him and he could press his own over yours properly. 

Eddie’s chin was hooked over your shoulder, nose pressed to the spot under your ear, watching the way Steve’s tongue licked over your lips, teeth catching. Eddie’s breath hitched when you opened for the other boy, tongues touching, a wet slide over each other, mouths chasing kiss after kiss. It was slow, controlled by Steve’s hand on your jaw, keeping you from taking too much without asking.

Then he was pulling away, nudging your face towards Eddie with his thumb, smiling at you like this was what the three of you did every Saturday, like he was telling you it was okay, that he wanted to share.

The crowd of drunks around you melted into a blur. The lights danced, changed from red and lilac to aqua and lime, a flash of colour of skin. Steve’s fingers hooked into the tiny strap of your dress, his knuckles running over the bare skin underneath. 

You were too warm. 

Where Steve tasted like tequila and beer, honeyed, sweet,  Eddie was all smoke and spiced rum, deep and dark and he was greedier than Steve was, catching your lips with his own the second you leaned back into him. His hand covered Steve’s, both boys holding you as Eddie chased the taste of his friend from your mouth.

If someone had told you that there were other people in the room, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

“Can we take you home?” Steve asked, voice low and soft, Eddie’s lips on your cheek, pushing sweet kisses to it. 

“Wanna come home with us, princess?” The other boy asked, Steve’s hands curling around the dip in your waist, thumbs smoothing over your stomach. 

You nodded. 

It’s how you ended up with Eddie’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders, the hem of it almost as long as your dress. Steve took your hand in his, led you through the crowd with Eddie’s hand on the small of your back and then you were walking home. 

Step by step under the street lights, under the inky night sky, leftover over summer heat and the flirt of a promise in the air. The boys touched you all the way home, nothing too much, just enough to be considered a normal Saturday night. 

Steve kept his hand joined with yours, teasing at how small your fingers were compared to his. He spun you this way and that, let you wander an edge too far before tugging you back to his side, grinning proudly at the way he made you laugh. 

Eddie wasn’t far away, skipping around you both, mumbling a song neither you nor Steve knew but he’d grab at your waist from behind, nose at your neck until you squirmed, humming a beat into your hair as the three of you managed to get yourself back to Steve’s permanently intertwined. 

And when you all reached the empty Harrington household, Steve flicked on the lamp by the sofa and watched you drop yourself onto it, kicking off your shoes and leaning back into the cushions. Eddie mumbled something about something, slipping away into the dark of the kitchen and you wondered if it was deliberate, it this was already planned. 

Because Steve was coming to stand before you, nudging your knees apart with his own so he could drop between them, crouching between your thighs. His hands were hot on your skin, lips still swollen from how he’d kissed you before. 

He looked pretty. Messy in a scandalous way, hair wild from your own hand, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. So, so pretty. 

Your pretty boy. 

“You okay?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles on the skin just above your knee. “With this?”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to. His touch? What had happened back at the party? What you were sure was about to come?

Either one of those had you nodding your head, brows knitted together because you were so desperate, so pent up, that you thought you might actually cry. But then Steve’s hand was on your jaw, your throat, thumb soothing over your cheek as he let you pull at his shirt , pawing at him. 

“Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” Steve’s voice was honey, sticky sweet with an edge of the same neediness you felt. ‘Cause it had been years of skirting around each other, toeing the line that only Eddie seemed to be able to help you both cross. “Need to kiss you again.”

You pushed your mouth to his without any hesitation. 

The boys hands ran up your thighs, pushed at your dress until his thumbs were pressed to the line between your legs and your underwear, palms curled around you so he could drag you to the edge of the sofa. 

His tongue licked over you, licked into you, a slow, soft burn of a kiss that almost felt lazy. Like he knew he had you now. That there wasn’t any rush. There was no going back from this. 

Eddie’s jacket still hung from your shoulders, a reminder of the boy who was only just coming back from the kitchen now, quietly entering the room to sit on the armchair across from you both. 

He sprawled out, legs spread wide, ringed fingers playing with his bottom lip, like he was trying to feel what you both felt. 

“You both look so pretty like this,” Eddie’s voice was only a whisper, but it cracked through the room, rolled over you like a storm. 

It made you shiver, clench your thighs and drag your mouth from Steve’s. 

You knew what he meant, ‘cause if you looked anything like Steve did - eyes drooping with pleasure, lips slick and glossy from each other, skin flushed and hair a mess - well, what a pretty picture, indeed. 

Your dress was hitched high, splayed around the tops of your thighs with Steve’s hands half hidden underneath, legs spread wide with the boy kneeling between them, your greedy hands curling at the nape of his neck. 

“Is that right?” Steve asked and his voice was just as low and flirtatious as when he spoke to you. 

Eddie smirked and you couldn’t help but ask. 

“Have you and Eddie-” Steve turned back to you, brows lifted, small smile, knowing. “Uh, have you guys done this? Before?”

The boys both grinned and Eddie leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes roamed over the way his jacket was still slung over you, Steve between your thighs. “With each other?”

“Or with another girl?” Steve finished. 

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a white hot burn of jealousy flare in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers turned gentle as they played with the ends of Steve’s hair, his lashes fluttering at your touch. Surely no one else could make Steve feel the way you did? Right?

“Either.”

“Oh pretty girl, Steve cooed, voice fond, “you think we’d do this with someone who wasn’t you?” His mouth found your cheek, sweet kisses pushed to the apple of it, lips trailing to kiss over your lashes, the tip of your nose, your temple. “Don’t you know that we’re yours?”

Yours. Your boys. 

“Both of you?” You felt shy, silly for asking, but Eddie was still out of reach, despite the way he was eyeing you. 

He nodded, “of course, sweetheart.” Eddie meant back in the chair, eyes glittering dark in the low light. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t looked after each other though.”

Heat looked in your stomach, between your legs. You wanted to whine. 

Your nose bumped Steve’s as you turned back to him, lips parted, watching how he smiled. You swallowed hard, chest moving too fast to go unnoticed. 

“Yeah?”

Steve nodded, hands pushing into the dough of your thighs, a soft touch that kept you on edge, kept you grounded and you were waiting for him to talk, to tell you the dirty, pretty things that him and Eddie got up to when you weren’t around. 

“S’real hard sometimes,” Steve murmured, “both of us havin’ to watch you in your pretty little dresses, pretending like you don’t see us staring at you.” A kiss, sweet and quick, on the line of your jaw. 

“When you wanna come sit on my lap and I’ve gotta pretend that I’m not hard as a fuckin’ rock when you wanna cuddle into me.” Steve’s voice was syrupy, warm and sticky. “‘Cause you smell so good and you’re just so sweet, and you look at me with those damn eyes. I can’t ever say no to you.”

“Poor Stevie is wrapped ‘round your little finger, princess,” Eddie crooned from the corner. “You got us both feelin’ like we’re seventeen and ready to make a mess in our pants every time you get too close.”

“So sometimes,” Steve explained, “when you go home and leave us all alone, we gotta help each other out.”

You were panting, eyes fluttering shut as Steve mouthed over your throat, teeth grazing, tongue licking dirty at the line of your jaw. 

“We talk about you,” Eddie continued, “how lucky we are to have you, sweetheart, such a cute little thing. A miracle you like hangin’ out with us so much.”

You whimpered, eyes opening and looking over Steve’s shoulder to see Eddie with his hand on his own thigh, thumb running lines over the outline of his cock.

“Oh yeah,” Steve whispered into your hair. “We talk about you all the time. What we wanna do to you, what we think you’d sound like, what you’d taste like. Bet you’re as sweet as you look, baby.”

Baby. 

“Then we just can’t help ourselves,” Eddie sighed dramatically, grinning at the way you were tilting your head for the other boy, Steve’s mouth sucking a lavender coloured bruise on your throat. “You have us fuckin’ ourselves into each other’s hands just thinking about you.”

Fucking hell. 

You imagined it, the two boys side by side in Steve’s bed, you and your other friends long gone as they got desperate with it, cocks hard, jeans shoved down just enough to wrap a fist around the other. Heads thrown back, lips on throats, jaws slack, pumping the other to the thought of you between them. 

“Do you like the sound of that?” Steve asked, softly. His hand nudged between your thighs, fingers slipping under lace and he swiped a digit through your folds, felt and heard the wet slick there and he groaned into your shoulder. “Oh, fucking hell.” 

He brought his finger back to his lips, sucked it into his mouth and smiled. Behind him, Eddie cursed, gripped his dick through his jeans and lay slack against the armchair cushions.  

“Oh, I think she likes that, Eds,” Steve confirmed, not waiting for you to reply. 

“Dirty girl,” Eddie laughed quietly. 

It was the same teasing they gave you when you got too squeamish over a horror film, when you complained it was too cold just so you could steal Eddie’s hoodie and burrow into Steve’s arms. 

“Does she taste as good as we thought, Harrington?” Eddie was lazing back, all faux calm composure because you could see the way the muscles in his jaw ticked every time you looked at him. 

“Better,” the boy answered, voice wrecked, rough. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Steve kissed you as Eddie pushed himself from his seat, wandering over to the sofa so he could sprawl on the other end of it, his knee pressed to your hip. Steve’s tongue was curling around your own, making your gasp, little noises falling from your lips that he licked up like they were just for him. 

They were. 

Then his fingers were exploring again, thick and calloused as they nudged at your cunt, thumb spreading you apart a little so he could rub little circles over your entrance, huffing into your kiss as you tried to clench down on him. 

“How long have you thought about this?” Steve asked you, but you could answer because you were too busy staring at how he offered Eddie his fingers, middle and pointer sliding past the other boy's lips. 

Eddie hummed, lashes fluttering, sucking your wetness off of his friends' digits, sucking until Steve pulled them away from his mouth with a dirty ‘pop.’

“Huh, baby?” He prodded again, Eddie crowding in so he could fit himself into the space behind you, legs caging your hips, your back to his chest once more. “D’you do what we do? D’you touch this pretty little clit at night and think about Eddie and I?” Steve cooed. 

You nodded, keening when Steve pressed his thumb to you, all swollen and slick already. He slid his touch over your clit, soft and constant, staring at you the whole time, smiling at the sounds he was getting from you, the glassy look in your eye as you clung to his shirt. 

Then Eddie was pushing your hair back, hooking his chin over your shoulder to look down at the way Steve had your legs spread, lace underwear hiked to the side. He mouthed at your neck, matching Steve’s gentle pace, nothing too much, not yet. 

You felt like you were already on fire. 

“So pretty,” he gushed, curls falling over your face. He slid his jacket from your shoulders, chucked it to the floor and scattered kisses across your shoulders, using one ringed finger to make your dress straps fall down your arms. “Prettiest little thing, with such a pretty, pretty pussy.”

“Eddie,” you whined, arching into him, hips thrust towards Steve, chasing his fingers. “Fuck.”

“Oh sweetheart,” the boy replied, “what d’you need, huh? Want Stevie to be nice to you?”

“Steve’s always nice to me,” you mumbled, face burning with shyness despite the way your two best friends had you caged between their bodies, cocks hard for you, your underwear pushed to the side so they could see how wet they got you. 

Steve made a soft noise for you, sticky and fond, a tap tap tap at your clit for your sweetness. You wriggled, pushed yourself into Eddie’s lap a little more. 

“Hmm, he is, isn’t he?” Eddie replied, voice low and in your ear. He looked at the boy through his lashes, winked at him when you couldn’t see and said, “I think he could be so much nicer though, princess. ‘Cause I just know he’s fuckin’ dying to get his mouth on you.”

You made a strangled sound, a whine and a moan, maybe there was even a ‘please’ mixed in with it and your hands fell from Steve’s shirt to grab at Eddie’s curls, body stretched out between them both as you braced your arms on either side of his head. 

“Yeah? You’d like that?” Eddie cooed, “s’good, ‘cause I really wanna watch that. Fuck, you gonna let me watch Steve eat you out?”

You nodded furiously, tilting your head to the side for Eddie, his mouth biting down on the same mark that Steve had already left. 

“We wanna hear you,” Steve murmured, bending down over you to press a line of kisses along the tops of your thighs, curling his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs. “C’mon, sweetheart, let us hear how pretty you sound.”

“Please,” you were begging, unashamed, eyes fluttering shut at the way the cool air hit your cunt, “please Steve, please Stevie, want you so bad, please.”

They were both smiling when Eddie cupped his palms under your legs, spreading you more, your thighs draped over his knees, creating more space for Steve to settle into. 

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, “let Eddie help you, hmm? There’s a good girl.”

It was an electric buzz, his words, those words, the way they made you feel. And let it be known that your boys always paid attention, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and Steve’s lips were parted into a surprised ‘o.’

“She liked that, didn’t she?” Eddie snorted, hands wide and warm as they held your thighs open. “Felt her twitch, wonder if she got a little wetter, huh?”

Steve dragged his fingers through your folds, slid his fingers up and down a little messily so all three of you could hear the dirty slick of it. Eddie groaned and Steve was looking at you like you were his last meal and he was a man starved. 

“Soaked, baby,” Steve whispered, crowding into you to peck at your lips, leaning past you to give Eddie the same sweet treatment. His lips were at your ear, Eddie’s hands stroking across your ribs, thumb tracing the underside of your breast, nipples peaked for him. “You wanna be my good girl, s’that it?”

He pulled back, watched Eddie drag your dress down until the material was shoved underneath your tits, back arched and chest pushed out for him to play with. 

“Our good girl?”

You whined, nodding, hands pulling at Eddie’s curls before they landed on top of his hand on your legs, needing something to ground you as Steve blew warm air over your cunt. 

“Been thinkin’ about this for so long,” he told you, letting the pout of his lips just graze over your folds. He pushed a soft kiss just above your clit, ran a finger down the seam of you, never pushing any further. “You drive us goddamn crazy, d’you know that?”

“Steve,” you cried out, wiggling in Eddie’s arms, trying your best to push yourself closer to his mouth. 

“Ah, ah, princess,” Eddie scolded, “you gotta be patient. Steve’s gonna make you feel good, s’alright. Aren’t you, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t answer, not with words. He just sighed all dreamily as pushed his tongue out to taste you, flat and soft as he dragged it through your cunt. He groaned when you gasped, breath hitching and Eddie chuckled as he held you down against him, cooing softly in your ear. 

“Oh baby, s’good yeah?” He whispered, wild curls tickling your cheek, your neck. He caught your chin with a finger and thumb, turned you so you were panting against his mouth, his own tongue coming out to lick across your lips. “I know, I know, Stevie’s just so fuckin’ good with that mouth, isn’t he?”

 Steve hummed, thumbs coming up to pull at your folds, helping Eddie spread you out nice for them. He suckled at your clit, dipped the tip of a finger against your entrance and groaned at how wet you were. 

It was almost too much. Almost. 

He kept that up, that soft, slow, wet drag of the flat of his tongue against you, sucking at your clit when you started whining, arching up against Eddie. The other boy laughed, not all that unkindly, petting at you to get you to settle back down for him.

“S’wrong?” He asked, rocking his hips against your ass. Your dress had worked itself into a mess around your waist, chest bare, ass against Eddie’s crotch as he rutted himself into you. “You getting greedy, princess? You want more?”

You nodded, gasped out a ‘yes please,’ and tugged at Steve’s hair, made the boy moan so pretty as his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you. 

Eddie hummed, ran guitar string scarred fingers over the stiff pebbles of your nipples, trailing a palm down your tummy. “I could just slide my cock inside of you,” he mused, grinning when you whimpered. “Could fuck you nice and deep in my lap whilst Stevie boy keeps eating that pretty little pussy of yours.”

You were seeing white, stars and bright flashes of pleasure behind your closed eyelids, Steve’s tongue doing wonderful things over your clit, that same soft, push of his mouth on you. He sucked, gave you a little kiss and you wanted to cry. 

“You think you’d like that?” Eddie kept talking, running his mouth in the same tone of voice he used for Hellfire, that low, gentle commanding cadence that made your toes curl. “Think you’d like my dick inside of you while our best friend licks at your clit? M’sure he’d let me feel his mouth too, huh? Bet you’d come real fuckin’hard for us, sweetheart, bet you’d look so fuckin’ pretty coming for us.”

You were squirming, both pairs of hands holding you down, holding you open as Steve lapped at you, his own cock hard in his jeans, rutting into the air trying to find some sort of release. He moaned into you, lashes fluttering, lips shiny with you. 

“But you see, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed, talking to you like he was trying to explain why you couldn’t have another piece of candy, like he was taking away your favourite toy. “I can’t do that yet.”

You whimpered, eyes brimming with tears, gathering at your lash line because of how overwhelmed you felt. 

“I can’t do that ‘cause Steve’s gotta feel that sweet, little pussy around his cock first,” Eddie’s voice was like chocolate, smooth and rich against your neck. He kissed the spot under your ear, sugary sweet, so lovely to you. “S’only fair, right? How fucking long you’ve both wanted each other.”

You nodded, jaw slack, eyes rolling ‘cause Steve was getting a little rougher, as if listening to Eddie talk was affecting him as much as it was you. He licked at you a little quicker, pushed his lips to your clit in a dirty kiss, sucking hard. You squealed, fingers yanking at his hair, his eyes wild for you when they flicked up to watch Eddie’s hands cup at your tits, pushing them together all pretty and obscene. 

“S’alright, sweetheart, I know, I know,” he mumbled gently. “You’re Stevie’s girl, you were his first.” 

Steve sucked in a breath, ragged, ruined. His fingers slid into you - two, thick and wide - too easy with how wet you were. He started curling them, a hot drag against you, in and out in and out in and out. 

“M’so fuckin’ lucky he lets me share you, aren’t I?” Eddie leaned over, hooked his chin over your shoulder, smiling at how your head lolled against his own. He let a little line of spit drip from his lips onto your tits, over one nipple so he could get it nice and wet between his fingers. “You’re so good to me, letting me touch your boy, aren’t you? Such a good girl, princess.”

“Oh, fu-uck,” you cried out, skin warm, chest flush, Eddie’s big hands still pushing at your tits, cold rings catching at your nipples. “Steve.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, kissed cutely at your hot cheek and Steve moaned his response, finally bringing his mouth away from you to talk. He looked wrecked, a little wild with it all, lips swollen and glossy and so, fucking pretty. 

“Yeah, baby?” He murmured, voice rough and hitching, his fingers still slipping in and out of you, catching and dragging at all the right spots. “S’good? Like it when Eddie talks to you all sweet, huh?”

You nodded, gasping, legs trying to close themselves around Steve’s hand now that Eddie was preoccupied with touching you elsewhere but Steve tutted, tapped at your knee and hitched a thigh over his shoulder to keep you where he wanted you. 

“Yeah, I like it,” you have told him, and god, you’d never sound so needy in your life. 

“Oh, I know, baby,” Steve cooed, lips pouting for you, smiling when your eyes crinkled, closing in pleasure when he thumbed at your clit again. “Y’gonna put that pretty mouth around Eddie’s cock when I fuck you? Hmm? Think he deserves it, no?”

“Yeahyeahyeah,” you were babbling, hands wandering, one curled around Steve’s jaw as he leaned back into you to press open mouthed kisses along your thigh, the other intertwined with Eddie’s as he dragged his palm and yours over your tits. “He deserves it, Eddie’s so sweet, so pretty.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Steve mused, eyes on the other boy as he smirked, hand ghosting over the hard ridge of Eddie underneath you. Eddie jerked his hips, let out a rough moan at Steve’s touch and hissed when he rocked into his hand and your ass. “Hey Munson, d’you think our girl needs some practice first? Think we should make her feel nice and full?”

It was like he was asking if Eddie wanted to stay for dinner. He said it so casually, so softly, it made your toes curl. 

Eddie didn’t answer, just laughed softly and kissed your neck, let two fingers graze across your bottom lip until he was tugging at it softly, digits slipping into your mouth and settling heavy on your tongue. You whined around them, sucked and flicked your tongue around the silver of his ring.

“Atta’ girl,” Eddie breathed, “so good for us, huh? Y’gonna come for Steve now, yeah?”

Both boys watched your lashes flutter, watched you nod and wrap a small hand around Eddie’s wrist. Steve hummed, dipping his face back down, mouth an onslaught on you, tongue flat and wide as he lapped at you, fingers a punishing pace as he fucked them in and out of you. 

You fell apart in seconds. 

Back bowing, biting down on Eddie as Steve kept his face pressed into you, fingers coaxing white hot pleasure out of you. He licked it all up, kissed your clit so sweetly, murmuring dirty, soft words the whole time.

You slapped at both boys, body pulsing, cunt throbbing, eyes glassy. They both laughed, not all that mean, more fond and Eddie let Steve pull you from his lap, bundling you into his own chest as you curled up there, face pressed to his neck as you panted.

“Y’alright, baby? Hmm?” Steve whispered, “still with us?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “jus’ need a minute, Stevie.”

He nodded, grinning at Eddie over your head, pressing his lips to your hairline, smoothing soft kisses over you as you came down from your high. Eddie leaned forward, brushed back your hair, scratched nicely at the slope of your bare back. 

“Oh, princess,” Eddie mumbled, “he got you good, huh?”

PART TWO: DIRTY, DIRTY BOYS

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 3: Searching for Spector

word count: 4k

warnings: violence, language, afab!reader

summary: Sage has some struggles in London and Steven is adorable

a/n: thanks for reading! thanks for waiting for me to post!! Sorry it’s taking forever! Please don’t forget me!!

part one here

part two here

The bright light stings your eyes as they fly open, your heart beating out of your chest. You don’t even realize you’re gripping the pillow too tight until your knuckles hurt. You can hear the bustle of cars and the smell of coffee coming from down the street. It helps calm you down.

Standing up, the cold floor of the hotel meets your sock-clad feet, sending a shock wave through your body. You shuffle your way to the bathroom, eyes still burning from sleep. You’re met with the dingiest bathroom and slowly pull back the shower curtain like the final girl in a horror movie. Luckily, no killer is waiting behind the curtain, just a tiny yellowed tile shower stall.

You watch as the water washes the soap down the drain. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you let your eyes lose focus and imagine the water washing the nightmare down the drain. Out of the shower, you look at yourself in the mirror and trail your eyes over the scars before putting on your clothes for the day.

Leaving the hotel, you step into the bustling street and follow the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting from a nearby cafe. You enter the cafe and grab a small warm cup of coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands.

Reaching the museum you venture in and join a group of people waiting in front of a woman wearing a tag that says Tour Guide. While looking around a figure catches your eye. It's Marc; his brown curls instantly make him recognizable. You pause, watching him from the periphery of the tour group.

Marc’s face is alight with enthusiasm as he interacts with the children. You slowly move away from the group and as you approach the counter, you hear his passion for ancient Egypt in every word he speaks. Keeping your gaze down, you feign interest in the pamphlets that adorn the area. After a moment, he acknowledges your presence, his passion still evident in his eyes. It nearly forces you to lose focus.

"Need help today, ma'am?" A British voice hits your ears, and you're sure you must have misheard. You had been expecting a gruff Chicagoan accent, not a gentle British accent, to come out of his mouth.

"Oh, uh, I don't believe so." Your smile causes his cheeks to tinge a lovely shade of pink. "I'm just taking everything in."

"I see. Well, do let me know if you have any questions. I'm Steven." He points to his name tag and tilts his head with a smile. There's no hitch in his accent—not one part where he messes up the tone or inflection or does anything that gives away the part he's playing. He's a great actor.

'Steven' picks up a box of plush hippos from the floor and steps out from behind the counter. He throws one more smile your way, but you've got your eyes on a brochure, appearing not to notice him leaving. From the corner of your eye, you watch him walk down the hall to a door. You decide it's best if you're gone before he returns, so after standing there for a few more heartbeats, you turn and walk out.

Before interacting with Marc/Steven again, you spend a few days observing from rooftops and lurking in shadows. By the third day of watching, you have his routine memorized down to the smallest detail. He leaves his apartment every morning between 7:30 and 7:45. He’s at work until 6:00 and makes his way back to the flat around 7:30 to 8:00. The lights go out in his flat around 10:00 and come back on throughout the night.

After a week, you decide to insert yourself into Marc's life. You race out of the hotel, lukewarm latte in hand, waiting for ‘Steven’ to come racing down for the bus. As you stand there, you finally spot the messy brown curls speeding towards your location. You step into his path and brace for impact. Seconds later, you're dousing him with coffee, and he’s reaching out to steady you.

“Oh god, are you ok?” His brown eyes are wide in shock, and his hands hold onto your arms. He recognizes you. You were at the museum the other day.

“I’m fine. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t watching, and I’m-” He cuts you off.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I was running. I’m always bloody runnin’.” He lets his eyes look you over as you do the same. His black pants and patterned shirt are now drenched in coffee.

“Oh no, I’ve ruined your entire outfit! I feel horrible.” Steven hadn’t even noticed the coffee that was on him. He had been too focused on you.

“It’s alright, not like it was anything special.” He shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

“But still, I spilled my drink all over you. Is there something I can do to repay you? Like, get you a latte or anything like that?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that. But I’m fine, truly.”

You two stand, and you look him up and down again, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“I promise. Accidents happen, but I bet you I won't run down the street like a madman anymore.” The latter part of the sentence is giggled out, and you can’t stop the real giggle that comes out of you.

He’s ending the conversation and about to step away, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

“I-uh, could I maybe ask you to get a drink sometime? I just feel awful for spilling my coffee on the cute museum clerk, and I would love to make it up to you. If you let me.” You look up at him through your lashes, and it’s hook, line, and sinker for him.

His eyes, a deep shade of hazel, light up with a mix of surprise and delight as he realizes you remembered him. A faint blush tinges his cheeks, and his voice stutters as he tries to speak. “It’s hard to turn that down when you call me cute, innit?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t turn me down. How about tomorrow? We can go wherever you like, to repay you but also because I have no clue of any good places around. ”

“I get off at 6. Do you want to meet at the museum?” His crooked smile makes him look innocent. He somehow looks nothing like, but also just like the man you’ve seen kill people back to back.

“I’ll see you then. Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.” He can’t control the excitement in his voice as he watches you walk away. As you are almost out of sight, you turn back to look at him, and he’s in the same spot you left him.

You spend the rest of your day wandering around London. You keep a distance from the mission; if he were to see you again, it would be too much of a coincidence. As you wander the streets of London, you find a park. Entering the park, you sit on one of the benches and watch everyone going about their day.

You watch all the couples holding hands, the families having lunch, and the old people playing games. You let your eyes drift, not focusing on anything—until a face on the other side of the park catches your eye.

A blonde-haired man stares back at you on the other side of the park. You squint and can’t believe your eyes. Steve Rogers is staring back at you. You aggressively rub your eyes, hoping that when you look back, he’ll be gone. But he remains there, refusing to vanish as you had hoped.

You know, logically, it can't be real. There's no way you're looking at Steve Rogers, and there’s no way he's staring directly back at you. But despite everything, you still have a glimmer of hope in your chest as you walk towards him. Moving swiftly past the crowd, your heart races with each step, and your eyes widen with anticipation as you finally lay eyes on him sitting there. You blink right as you reach him, and he disappears into thin air. You’re just staring wildly at an average-looking white guy.

You nod at him before turning and hightailing it out of the park.

Out of the park, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. The bile comes up to your throat as the panic wells in your chest. Tears form in your eyes, and your hearing starts to fade away as the panic takes over. Quickly, you veer off into a side street, out of the public eye. Your breath starts coming out choppy, and as hard as you try, you can't steady your mind.

Memories of the battle with Thanos come rushing back, flickering through your mind like fragmented snapshots. The sound of his fingers snapping resonates amid the battle, creating an overlapping symphony of noise that dissolves into a chilling stillness. Emotions overwhelm you - the simmering anger of losing and the searing pain of witnessing the dusting. As these memories resurface, the emotional turmoil engulfs your mind completely.

Despite your efforts, you can only come up with three things you can see, growing increasingly annoyed by the repetitive counting. There's a buzzing in your pants pocket. When you pull out your phone, Sam's contact picture lights up the screen, his cheerful smile staring back at you. You bet he has a secret sixth sense to know when to pick up the phone and call. You press the answer button but can't bring yourself to speak just yet.

"Hey, you there?" He calls out your name a few times. You choke out a small "hi" as a giant shudder shakes you.

"Are you okay?" There's a bit of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm just, uh-"

He can hear the shakiness in your voice, and he's familiar with the unsteadiness of it.

"Just breathe with me, in through the nose and out through your mouth. In, out, in, out, in, and out."

"I can't find five things I see. I can't get past three fucking things, Sam!"

"Hey, hey, it's all okay. Just focus on breathing right now. Once we get that regulated, we can count together."

You continue to do a few more breathing exercises with Sam's help. Your breathing returns to an almost normal speed, and finally, you count five things you see.

"Thanks, Sam,"

"Of course. Do you want to talk about what triggered it?"

You don't mean to hesitate before answering, but you do. "I thought I saw him."

"Him? Who-"

"Steve. I thought I was seeing Steve. I probably scared the shit of the poor guy I rushed at. Deep down, I knew it couldn't be him, but a small flicker of hope remained. It just brought back all the memories of-" You shake your head, your hands covering your face in disbelief. "I feel so foolish."

"I get it. I still see Riley, especially when it gets closer to the anniversary of his death. You spend so much time with someone, fighting alongside one another, being each other's backup, being family, and then suddenly, it's ripped away without you getting any say. It's hard, and you can't beat yourself up."

"I know, I just-"

"You've been through a lot. Cut yourself some slack, kid." He reassures you; in that moment, you couldn’t be more thankful for Sam.

“I appreciate the help, Sam.”

“It's a good thing I called when I did, huh?” His voice is light and humorous, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I guess.” After deciding you’ve spent too much time being the topic, you change it. “What did you call for?”

"I didn't realize I needed a reason to call my friend."

You roll your eyes at his teasing, "I didn't mean it like that.".

“I heard you roll your eyes. I was just calling to check in on you. I thought about you this morning and realized we hadn’t spoken in a while. So consider yourself checked up on.”

“Thanks for officially checking on me." You laugh out a response.

“Hey, call me if you need to talk. I’m always here.” His voice was serious and reassuring.

“I know, Sam.”

“I mean it, we’re family, kid. Don’t forget that.”

After ending the call, you linger in the alley, savoring the peacefulness before immersing yourself back into the noisy hustle of the sidewalk. When you finally emerge, you find solace in being just another face in the crowd, unnoticed and unbothered by anyone around you.

The next day comes quickly, and before you know it, it’s time to meet with ‘Steven.’

As you approach the museum, you make your way up the steps and patiently wait for him to arrive. After ten minutes, he finally comes into view. You can see the excitement in his eyes as he quickly makes his way towards you, waving in a friendly manner to greet you. Inhaling deeply, you respond to his wave with a wave back, a warm smile gradually appearing on your face.

"Hello." He shuffles his hands together," You look lovely."

"Thanks, so do you. You look very professional. I feel a bit underdressed myself."

"I think you look fantastic, better than fantastic, actually." You feel yourself blushing at his awkward compliments.

"Oh, got you these." He pulls out a box of chocolates and a few flowers. "I hope you enjoy them."

The flowers are slightly crumpled and missing a few petals, which is charming. He notices you eyeing the misshapen flowers, and you're quick to reassure him when you see him scratch his neck in embarrassment.

"Uh, shall we go?" It's like he suddenly realizes you're still standing on the steps.

"Yeah. Lead the way." You gesture with your arms.

The two of you begin walking down the road. There's a comfortable distance between you and an awkward silence before he breaks it.

"What brings you to London?"

"Big Ben," you deadpan, only laughing when you see the stunned look on his face. He chuckles as well once he realizes you're kidding. "I needed a change, an adventure. I just felt restless in my old life. You know?"

"Yeah, I get it." His eyes hold wonder as he looks at you.

You make a bit more small talk before reaching the small restaurant. You follow him through the doors and to a small, intimate table.

You notice that he seems jittery, his hands constantly fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. It makes you wonder if it’s just his personality or if he’s nervous about the date. In the brief five minutes you had been here, he had already finished his water, leaving his cup empty.

"Don't go on dates often, do you?"

"Can't say I do. Is it that obvious?" His eyebrows furrow as he confesses, and you feel bad for asking.

"Don't worry, I don't either. I can't think of the last time a guy even gave me flowers."

He looks at you with eyes wide in shock and mouth slightly gaped.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No love, it's just. I find that bloody ridiculous. I'm surprised you don't have a line of guys following you, just hoping to get your attention." His words feel genuine, not like he's trying to boost you up in hopes of getting in your pants.

As the conversation continues, you feel his performance is too good. It's like he could be Marc's twin brother. The man sitting across from you appears incapable of hurting a fly, let alone another human. But you can't help but feel like there's something more to him than meets the eye.

Observing his gestures, you detect his uneasiness, as if he is trying to find his place in his own body. The presence of purple bags emphasized the tiredness in his sunken brown eyes, while his slightly frizzy hair added a touch of dishevelment to his look. You think about how his lights constantly turn on and off in his apartment and consider prying.

“Ever since I’ve moved here, I find it harder to sleep at night.”

"Yeah? I wish I had that problem. I, uh, have these crazy dreams where I'm fighting people, and I'm always in different places. It's like my mind wants something different, something more. I tend to stay up, trying to avoid them altogether." He blushes as he realizes he's overshared. "Sorry, that's a bit strange, innit?"

"Not in the slightest. After the blimp happened, I went through a period where I couldn't close my eyes without feeling like I or everything would disappear. I would keep myself up for days until I'd crash. Then rinse, repeat." A crooked smile tugs at your lips. He smiles back. The smile is small, and it seems he's trying to be comforting.

Excusing yourself to head to the restroom, Steven promises he'll be there when you return, making you slightly giggle. As you round the corner to return to your table, you don't spot Steven. Getting to the table, you see that cash has been left to cover the dinner, but no note was left for you. Moving quickly, you dash outside, trying to catch him.

Standing on the street, you survey the surroundings, and there’s no sight of him. It's only been four minutes; surely, Steven couldn't have vanished so quickly? Yet, you know that four minutes is ample time for a person to disappear. You shut your eyes, your senses sharpening, and you discern his heartbeat. He's two blocks east, his heart pounding like a racing engine.

You maintain a calm facade as you turn the corner, out of sight of the people lingering around the restaurant. Then, with a burst of speed, you head in his direction. Closing the gap, you veer into an alley, preparing to climb to the rooftops. You barely have time to react when you reach the alley before he's leaping from one building to another.

After reaching the top of the building, you begin your pursuit. You keep enough distance to not alert him but close enough to keep up when his direction changes.

He stops dead in his tracks and launches himself toward the ground. You hear the clanging of bullets bouncing off of metal, accompanied by grunts and shouting. You scan over the people he’s fighting, trying to decipher who the good guy is and who is not.

Marc throws a guy against the wall and slings four crescent-shaped blades at his limbs to keep him stuck to the wall. He stalks toward the other two. One raises a gun and releases a full magazine at Marc’s chest, and they all bounce off. Marc drops low and, sweeps the guy down and, yanks the gun out of his hands, and knocks the guy out with it. The third guy starts swinging chaotically in hopes of doing damage, but it does nothing but make Marc move faster. Marc blocks all the attempts of damage and corners the guy against the brick wall.

“Tell me what you know,” he growls out. The guy shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Marc punches the guy in the stomach, making him groan.

“Feel like talking now?”

The guy shakes his head again and tries throwing Marc off him. Marc doesn’t budge. His body is too heavy and strong to be pushed away. Marc picks up the man and tosses him to the ground. He places his boot-clad foot on the guy's chest and applies pressure.

The guy’s arms shoot up, and his hands grab Marc’s legs. Marc applied a bit more pressure before kneeling and twisting the guy's arms together and pushing them into his chest. He pulls out a crescent blade and presses it against the man’s face. He slightly traces the blade down the man’s cheek, his eyes widen, and he begins to tell Marc what you’re guessing is the correct information, seeing as Marc doesn’t do any more harm to him.

The guy ends his tangent, and Marc is quick to slam his head into the ground, knocking him unconscious. Marc stands and turns to talk to someone, except no one’s there. You strain your eyes and ears, but nothing changes. Marc is still talking to what looks like an empty space.

“I’m not going to kill him. He told me what I needed to know.”

Silence.

He shakes his head and throws his arm at whoever he’s arguing with.

“Doesn’t matter. I got what I needed. We’re moving on.” He turns toward the building, and you hunker down more to ensure you're hidden. His body whips around, and you know he’s scanning the rooftop for you. His eyes look just above you, and suddenly, he’s sprinting to the building.

You waste no time on your escape. Taking a few calculated steps in reverse, you can feel the solid surface of the roof beneath your feet. The anticipation builds as you pivot and sprint towards the edge. With a burst of energy, you hurl yourself off the rooftop, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In an instant, you’re back on your feet, sprinting down the road at full speed. You keep running until you’re back at the crowded restaurant. Slowing your pace, you dip inside and watch out the window at the buildings across the street.

A few seconds tick by, and a shadowy figure comes into view, standing still and patient. He scans the area with sharp eyes, desperately searching for any sign of whoever was spying on him. After a few minutes of searching, his silhouette fades into the inky blackness of the night. Waiting a few minutes after he had disappeared, you emerge from the cafe, glancing around before fully committing to walking home.

taglist: @marsmallow433 @peachyrue777 @80pairsofcrocs @catsandra-chan @andromeda-kay @khonshu-help-me @lemongirl5910 @luna2034 @aryashouldbequeen456 @penniewises @asimplepersonsblog @gabby913 @artfulthoughtsblog @draggolblackthorn @elizaphantandroses @motleyfolk @aliahdapisces @peachypizzicato @shousha133 @venus-saturn-and-mars @xoxoshiftingloves @slimeybread @babypaperwitch @cinnitsuki @cosmicdes @taylormm1016 @peterparkers-bbymomma @suddenlysteven @flowercrownonapegion @norasgalaxyart

[levantura]

"That smile looks good on you."

Leon Kennedy X Reader

description: Its Leon's first week as a cop and the pressure and teasing is too much to bear, when he meets you, a recent transfer to RPD, things finally start to look up.

Re2!Leon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, drugs, Police, death, harassment, alcohol, blood, wounds.

2.2k words.

It was a Thursday afternoon, Leon was awkwardly leaning against the wall in the break room sipping on some liquid which he thought was supposed to be coffee but most definitely is not. The watery brown lukewarm liquid swirled through his cup as he looked down at it, not knowing where to look or what to do. Not even ten days on the force and he already wants out, out of here at least. while its true that Raccoon city was home to Leon, he wanted better for himself. he hated to be a cliche 'gotta get out of my hometown type' but it was true. when he got his assignment he sighed, he knew it would be a long time until he was able to transfer, he had no choice but to stick it out.

When Leon walked into work this particular Thursday the atmosphere seemed...different. it wasn't unusual that people here were on edge but today they seemed superbly anxious. Leon questioned it but quickly brushed it off, 'maybe someone got written up or theres somethin' up with the coffee' he made the smart decision to throw out the caffeinated mystery beverage.

"Wasting coffee now huh rookie?" An older officer, Wilson, teased. "n-no sir, it was pretty much empty um-" Leon cringed at how weak he sounded, in truth he's just so tired. he hates picking fights, he hates the pressure, he hated the the names they called him. if there was one thing he hated the most? the mocking. He didn't know if they treated all the rookies like this or just him. 'i wonder when things will be different.' officer Wilson chuckled, "Aw kid, you nervous around me?" he got up from his chair which judging by how much he sat in it definitely had an ass-print of some sort, and marched right up to Leon's face. Leon could feel and smell the hot coffee breath of his colleague and visibly winced. "Rookie, do i make you nervous?"

"Hey officer Wilson, i could see you haven't changed a bit."

'Who is that?'

Leon's eyes met the petite officer's, she was beautiful. her skin was glowing, she had the softest looking hair. The way she carried herself was nothing short of confident. 'Wow, is she new here? now, she knew officer Wilson, maybe that's why everyone's been so weird today? maybe-' "who are you?" Leon was snapped out his thoughts, "uh I'm officer Kennedy, Leon S. Kennedy, I'm a rookie, I started about eight days ago, I'm from-" he paused and cringed at his demeanor once again, "Leon. Leon Kennedy." he had a goofy grin on his face from just being in your presence. he held his hand out and you took it gladly. the warmth of his hands feeling nice against your cold ones. "I'm y/n. it's really nice to meet you." your eyes lingered on his for a few moments before your face got hot and you looked down shyly. this was a rare occurrence, no one ever made you shy, you were usually the outgoing one! But apparently not when it came to attractive rookie police officers...

The phone rang causing you both to let go of your hands which you realized you were still holding. 'Shit,' Leon thought to himself. Leon watched you as you walked away from him, looking down to hide your rose-colored cheeks. you grabbed the phone to stop the incessant ringing, "Hello Raccoon City PD who am I speaking with?"

Leon couldn't help but stare. He watched the way you carried yourself, even on the phone. He watched the way your eyebrows furrowed, the way you bit the left side of your lip, how your lips looked oh-so-soft and pillowy, something he could only dream about.

"Rookie."

The soft features of your face, now looking at him. he tried to listen, really, but he was lost in trance.

"Leon!" Now you had his attention. his head snapped to meet your eyes, god...your eyes.

"I'm going to need your help Leon, you up for it?"

Leon had never been more ready.

Riding in the squad car with you was not easy for Leon, radio or no radio? windows down? temperature? He wasnt sure of anything. He settled with whatever you picked even if the AC temperature was freezing him out.

"So, you clear with the plan?"

"One more time, to be safe?" and Leon looked at you with his baby blue puppy dog eyes and you couldn't help but feel sad for what the future had in store for this boy. you knew firsthand life on the force, in Raccoon City nevertheless, is soul crushing. you shook your head at the thoughts of the last call you went on here, the face of your dead partner is something you will never forget.

Mel was the only other woman assigned to raccoon city, you quickly bonded over that. you bonded over all of the smile more, the are you sure you could handle that? and all of the mistreatment. you guys quickly climbed to the top of your ranks at the precinct. Everyone knew not to mess with you guys, they knew what you were capable of.

The day of your last call at Raccoon City you had been assigned to an armed bank robbery. The perpetrator had called in for back up from three more of his men but when you called for backup it was already too late. a gunshot sounded and without even having to look you knew. Mel had gone down. there was nothing to do now but rush to her side and hope and pray to whatever was up there that she would be okay, but the sad truth was, she wasn't, and she wasn't going to be.

"Mel..." you cried and reached for her, cradling her in your arms in her final moments.

"Make change. for us. for the new girls, the new guys. you could do it y/n. thanks for everything." and with that, she left. You could only imagine she'd be happier wherever she was, that she was looking down and you were doing the best you could to make her proud.

you took a deep breath.

"So!" you clapped your hands together, "this is a domestic violence report, right? You take front door and try to distract the perp, from what we know he's around six feet tall, dark hair, a cross tattoo on the wrist and according to the call we received, had been drinking. I'll go around back to look for an alternate entrance, make sure our vic could get out okay without too much confrontation. then ill signal you and we will reconvene from there, sound good?" Leon nodded.

"You ready?"

Leon swallowed hard. "Let's do it."

As you both walked toward the house, Leon's head was spinning. There was a lot riding on this. This was his first call, and he was determined to make sure this perp was going down. he was so desperate to prove himself, he wanted the relentless teasing to just stop. this would do it. if he made it through this without fucking up, which would be hard, he knew they would think him worthy of this position.

knock knock knock

nothing.

As Leon raised his fist again to knock, the door opened.

"Yes officers?" a man answered. This man definitely matched the description, especially the drunk part. Leon was no toxicology expert, but he knew what booze smelt like, maybe a bit too well. "Hello sir, I don't mean to disturb you, but we got a call about a disturbance?"

"Disturbance? what kind of disturbance?" The man asked, definitely whiskey hot on his breath.

"The. Um. the disturbance kind." what did he just say?

'What the fuck is wrong with me?'

a thousand face palms arent enough to explain how much he cringed at himself. nails on a chalkboard, tin foil in your teeth. 'How long do i have to do this for?' he sighed.

"Uh huh. well unless you have any evidence, I don't see your point of being here when clearly, there no disturbance of any kind going on."

Leon looked down, knowing he fucked up. But then he spotted the blood. It trailed from his shoe into his living room, at least from where Leon could see. "what's the blood from?"

"That? oh... A Nosebleed!"

He wasn't buying it.

"Well then would you mind if I took a look inside? if it's just from a nosebleed, you'll surely be okay with that right?"

"You know, I know my rights. you need a warrant!" Leon chuckled; all of his test scores proved otherwise to this man's statement. "Actually sir, you see there are some exceptions to this rule, not that I have to explain this to you but, you see, there was a call made about this here address and that," Leon pointed to the decently sized blood pool on the ground, "That is a plain view probable cause, so I really didn't want to have to this but, excuse me." Leon Pushed past him into the house where he saw you and you locked eyes. He knew he had gone off plan a bit but he really wasn't expecting such an easy lead. Your eyes widen, "Leon behind you!" He whipped around and saw the man hurling toward him, the man threw a punch that landed on Leon's jaw, he retaliated and kicked him back. there was an all-out brawl in this drunk bastard's living room, and you were watching, completely forgetting about the victim you were supposed to be finding. "Y/N! go grab her! follow the blood, I could handle this from here!"

You nodded and followed the trail to the bedroom, opening the door you found a younger girl, clearly drugged, handcuffed to the bed frame.

You rushed into the room and grabbed the woman's shoulder.

"Hey, hey! it's okay, don't you worry, I'm going to get you out of here." she was so thin, you were afraid you'd break her arm with one wrong move. You spoke into your radio, "This is officer L/N, im requesting an ambulance at four thirty seven lunder court, ASAP victim in critical condition," snapping back to the job at hand you whipped out your lockpick, quickly removing the cuffs from the girl, you easily lifted her out of the bedroom and to your squad car where you tried to keep her awake. the cuts and bruises from whatever that thing had done to her were starting to ooze with pus and blood from being reopened when she was moved. You were skilled, you had the resources. You knew what to do. grabbing your first aid kit and tying gauze around her wounds, applying pressure. you hoped shed be able to hang on until the ambulance arrived.

things in the living room had escalated, for a drunk man, this guy had amazing balance and stamina. In fact, it was so great, Leon nearly lost a head to a dining room chair being hurled at him. But he finally had an advantage when the man got kicked in the nose, pushing him back. The rookie then grabbed his head and threw him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. 'Thank God it's over. I'm breaking a sweat.' and as soon as the man went down, the cuffs came out. "Perpetrator unconscious, awaiting instructions." He called into his radio. then as if on cue, the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance were seen from the window.

"So! you seemed to have handled yourself quite well, you sure that was your first mission?" you almost chuckled. You were both back at the station, you were dressing Leon's wounds from the living room brawl. He smiled, "Yeah! maybe now the rest of the officers will take me seriously. hopefully something scars and I'll be able to prove it." he chuckled. "Well, it certainly was some fight. definitely a great first call," you pressed down on a cut, trying to wipe whatever blood was left over on his swollen bottom lip. He winced, "So sorry!" You smiled, looking down at him from where you were standing in the dirty precinct bathroom, he was sitting on the sink counter and you standing almost in between his legs. he looked up at you again with those eyes, and this time he smiled. "You know rookie, that smile looks really good on you," he blushed, mouth agape, "you should wear it more often." He was stunned, he couldn't believe a woman as beautiful and strong as you were complimenting him, the rookie, the new guy that was bullied mercilessly. "You know, Y/N, I really couldn't ask for a better partner for the day at least. it was an honor to work with you." say it, Leon. just say it. "You're an amazing officer and I would be lucky to be half as good as you are eventually, I mean you're kind, you're compassionate, you are so smart and brave, you're beauti-," he stopped short, mentally cringing. 'God Dammit.' His eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks flushed red, "Um well," he looked down and your finger lifted his chin to look up at you. "Leon, as unprofessional as this might be, how about dinner sometime? l want to know you. And I'm getting the feeling it's mutual... So, is it a date?"

Leon took your hand in his and kissed it. "It would be my pleasure."

F i n.

A/N: hello! this is my first fanfic in a really long time!! i hope there arent too many mistakes and enjoy :) ill leave my inbox open for any requests!

[scribefindegil]

Low-Spoons Bread Recipe

Hallo friends! Yesterday I was singing the praises of bread-baking, which I know is something a lot of people find scary and intimidating. But fear not! I promise it’s easier than you think, and with this Bread Lore you too can bake delicious loaves whenever you want! If you are confused or have questions, please let me know and I will try to help!

I love this recipe/method, which comes from the book “Artisan Bread In Five Minutes A Day” by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois. Does it sound kind of gimmicky? Yes! Does it work? Friend, this recipe is a solid 30% of how I fed myself during grad school. It’s also one of the few things I can consistently make since I got cursed with ME/CFS in February. If I can stagger into the kitchen and use a measuring cup, I can make bread.

This is a no-knead dough that keeps in the fridge for up to a week. Over the course of the week, whenever you want bread you can tear off a hunk of dough and bake it! I find this recipe makes approximately two big loaves, a cookie sheet’s worth of focaccia, four personal pizzas, or eight dinner rolls.

You Will Need:

Flour (all-purpose)

Active Dry Yeast (available in jars and packets in the baking aisle)

Salt (table salt is fine)

Water

Measuring cups & spoons

A big mixing bowl

A lid for the mixing bowl, or some aluminum foil to cover it

To Make The Dough

Get out your big mixing bowl.

Add 3 cups of lukewarm water. It should feel warm, not hot, if you put a drop on the inside of your wrist. If you use very hot water, you could kill the yeast. If you use cold/cool water, the recipe will work but it will take longer to rise.

Stir in 1 tablespoon of table salt OR 1 1/2 tablespoons of sea or kosher salt. Table salt has much finer grains, so you get a lot more salt per spoon than you do with coarse-grained salts.

Stir in 1 1/2 tablespoons (2 packets) of yeast.

Now add 6 1/2 cups of flour. To measure the flour, use a big spoon to scoop in into the cup and then level off the top with the flat side of a bread knife. This keeps the flour from being too tightly packed, which will throw off your measurements.

Mix it all up with a wooden spoon until all the flour is incorporated.

Congrats! You have made dough!

Now cover the bowl with its lid or with a lid of aluminum foil. At this point, you can put it in the fridge until you’re ready to bake! If you want to bake imminently, you can also let it rise at room temperature for two hours (though it is easier to work with if it’s cold).

(Instructions for turning this dough into various Breads under the cut!)

To Bake a Focaccia (easiest & extremely delicious)

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees

Use olive oil to grease a cookie sheet or a large cast-iron skillet

Oil your hands. Tear off a chunk of dough. About 1/3 of the recipe will fill a 12-inch skillet; when making it on a cookie sheet I usually use about half the dough, though you can use the whole thing if you’re baking for a crowd.

(This will make the bread Prettier but tbh it’s fine if you don’t do it) Fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until it forms a smooth ball.

Press the dough into a sheet of relatively even thickness in your pan.

Let the dough rise for about 20 minutes while you wait for the oven to finish preheating.

When the oven is hot, poke the dough all over with clean fingers to make little dimpled hollows. Drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle on some coarse salt, black pepper, and any herbs you want (I love rosemary and oregano!)

Bake for 20-30 minutes until golden brown

To Bake A Pizza

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees

Oil your hands. Tear off a chunk of dough (about 1/4 of the dough is a good size for a personal pizza).

Put the dough on an oiled countertop and use a rolling pin or empty bottle to roll it out as thinly as you can. If you feel like the dough is fighting you, let it relax for five minutes and then try again.

Transfer the round of dough to an oiled cookie sheet (you can use your hands to help stretch it out more thinly when you pick it up if you want)

Add your toppings of choice

Once the oven is hot, bake for 15-25 minutes until the crust is golden brown and cooked through and the toppings are bubbly

To Bake A Big Beautiful Boule (with steam!)

Note: For various Science Reasons, bread cooks much better when there is steam in the oven. A lot of recipes encourage you to bake inside a closed Dutch oven, but I find it difficult & scary to get the dough in there since you have to preheat the Dutch Oven as well. Another method (described here) is to have a roasting pan or skillet in the bottom of the oven and throw ice cubes (probably safest) or water (what I do) in there right as you put the bread in the oven. If you don’t do this your bread will still be fine! But you won’t get as nice a crust and your loaf may not expand as well. It’s up to you. Follow your heart.

Place a roasting pan, cookie sheet, or cast-iron skillet on the bottom rack of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Dust your hands with flour. Tear off a chunk of dough (whatever size you want; I usually go with about half the recipe)

(This will make the bread Prettier but don’t stress about it) Continuing to dust with flour if things get sticky, fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until it forms a smooth ball.

Place your Dough Orb onto a cookie sheet dusted with flour or cornmeal. Let it rise for 45 minutes.

When the oven is hot, dust your orb with more flour. Then use a bread knife to cut several deep slashes through the loaf. This will help it expand as it cooks! Plus it looks beautiful.

To use steam: Get about half a dozen ice cubes and put them in a measuring cup. Put your bread in the oven, then immediately pour the ice cubes onto the roasting pan you put on the lowest rack and shut the door. Don’t peek at the bread until at least 15 minutes have passed to keep the steam inside the oven.

Bake for about 30-40 minutes, until the crust is nice and dark and the loaf sounds hollow if you rap on the bottom

To Bake Dinner Rolls

Place a roasting pan, cookie sheet, or cast-iron skillet on the bottom rack of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Dust your hands with flour. Divide the dough into eight equal portions.

For each portion of dough: Continuing to dust with flour if things get sticky, fold the dough in on itself and stroke the surface like you are petting a small animal until if forms a smooth ball. Place the roll onto a cookie sheet dusted with flour or cornmeal.

Let them rise for about 30 minutes.

When the oven is hot, dust your rolls with more flour. Then use a bread knife to make a deep slash through each roll.

To use steam: Get about half a dozen ice cubes and put them in a measuring cup. Put your bread in the oven, then immediately pour the ice cubes onto the roasting pan you put on the lowest rack and shut the door. Don’t peek at the bread until at least 15 minutes have passed to keep the steam inside the oven.

Bake for about 20 minutes, until the crust is nice and dark and a roll sounds hollow if you rap on the bottom

For extra deliciousness, brush the rolls with melted butter as soon as you take them out of the oven.

More Ideas

Try adding a handful of fresh or dried herbs when making the dough

Roll out small amounts of dough very thin and cook them in a hot skillet on the stovetop to make pitas

Make a filled bread by rolling dough out into a sheet and adding cheese, pesto, or another filling of your choice, then rolling the dough up in a spiral

Knead cheese, olives, or diced ham into the dough before shaping

Once you have a recipe that you’re comfortable with, bread is infinitely adaptable!

Happy baking!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

When in doubt, BAKE! Pt. 685: Saturday Night Bread

It's been one fuck of a week again, and my world has been changed drastically, and today I said fuck it I'm gonna bake bread.

This batch is about 60-40 Whole Wheat-White, a "Whole wheat Light"...it usually makes excellent sammy bread. It has some heft, but it's not so heavy as pure whole wheat.

Not sure if I've posted about THE BOOK yet, but this is THE BOOK if you really REALLY want to get good at baking bread:

"The Laurel's Kitchen BREAD BOOK", written in 1984 as a followup to the classic Laurel's Kitchen, by Laurel Roberston, Carole Flinders et.al. Carole and Laurel were both excellent writers, and the book is a pleasure to read. It's got the typical hippie wood cuts (they were in Berkeley, after all) and is my home bread-baker's bible. They wouldn't approve tonight's loaves, which are padded with white flour. lulz. I give myself lots of fail room when I haven't baked in awhile.

The original Laurel's Kitchen was the very first vegetarian cookbook I ever read, it was 1981, I'd just moved to Houston to work in the record stores...learned a lot from that book, but one trick they used can no longer be used, and they stressed that in the Bread Book: No baking in 48 oz juice cans (which they had championed in the first book). Now they line the cans with poisonous coatings, can't use them. Which is fine with me...I like my bread square/rectangular, when I'm makin' sammies.

Started this batch with 3 cups whole wheat, 2 1/2 cups white, and a tablespoon of salt, dry in the mixer bowl. Mix on low for about a minute to mix thoroughly. Replace the paddle with the dough hook.

In a 4-cup Pyrex measure, put 2 1/2 cups luke-warm water, and in a 1 cup measure, put 1/2 cup lukewarm water.

Into that one cup, put a tablespoon of brown sugar. Put another tablespoon of brown sugar in the large measure. Sprinkle one tablepoon of dry yeast into the small measure and stir.

With the mixer on the first speed, with the dough hook, slowly pour the yeast mix into the dry ingredients in the bowl. Follow with the rest of the water/sugar.

Now start adding small amounts of white flour until it begins to "pick up" and starts cleaning the bowl. In between these additions of flour, add, about a tablespoon at a time, 2 tablespoons of softened salted butter. The dough should pick up and become quite soft after a few more minutes.

After mixing on the first speed for about five minutes with the dough hook, turn it out onto a floured countertop and finish kneading by hand.

It'd been so long since I had my hands on some warm, live dough...and it made me smile, it's such an amazing feeling to work with it in its various stages.

Once it's become a good, solid dough from hand kneading for about five minutes, form it into large ball, and put in a large crockery bowl that's been buttered. Turn the ball to coat, place a linen towel atop and place in a draft-free, warm zone. That cabinet in the spot above the fridge is perfect. After about an hour and a half, it should be lookin' good, and a finger-poke in the middle won't "fill in".

Mash it down, making sure you get ALL the trapped air bubbles out. Form it into a ball again, and put it back in the bowl, and let it rise a SECOND TIME for about 40-45 minutes tops. It should take roughly half the time of the first rise.

Mash it down the second time, and flatten in to a big rectangle, and divide it in half. Let it rest for about five minutes.

Now form into loaves and put in the long bread loaf pans, pre-greased with shortening.

Put them back above the fridge, covered, for about 20 minutes, until they are just arching above the tops of the pans.

Put them into the 400 degree oven and let them bake for 15 minutes. AFTER 15 MINUTES, TURN THE TEMPERATURE DOWN TO 350, WITHOUT OPENING THE OVEN DOOR.

Let bake for another 30-40 minutes.

Loaves are done when they have a hollow sound when tapped, much like a watermelon when ripe.

Turn out of pans immediately and cool on racks until completely cool. Brush the tops with melted butter, if you like.

This is a good everyday bread for sammies and toast. Using butter, and using the higher temp for the initial "spring" time helps give this a solidly crunchy crust, and the blend of flours gives it a very nice texture and crumb. Yields two large loaves.

Baker gets first slice slathered in softened butter.

Y'all enjoy! I'm off to stand under the hot water for a good long while.

[justauthoring]

alexithymia [commission piece]

*alexithymia: the inability to express your feelings

a/n: this is a commission piece that a i did for a lovely follower!  please make sure to send in any commission ideas you might have. rules for commissions can be found here

The problem with the Nogitsune possessing Stiles was that he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

And even though you knew that it wasn’t Stiles, that Stiles would never have done that you – probably die before he’d ever utter the words the Nogitsune had, the words had still cut deep. It still felt like a knife stabbing you through the chest, impaling your heart, and leaving you a broken mess that was beyond fixing. 

Being part of the pack and being friends with Scott and Stiles, meant that you were no stranger to the supernatural. It both surprised you and almost disappointed you that half of the events that happened to you and your friends barely seemed to phase you anymore. After all you've experienced and gone through, first Scott getting bit and then finding out about hunters, kanimas, and more, it all became a little shocking and a little more normal. This was your life, a daily occurrence, and you found yourself numb to so much that a normal teenage girl should never be. That, really, no one ever should be.

Yet, Stiles had been your constant through it all.

People got hurt, people had died, your friends had died – so much had happened. So much pain and fear and agony and everything that fell in between all that. But Stiles was always there, always the same, a shoulder to lean on, a person to confide in. You loved all your friends, you cherished and cared for all of them, but falling in love with Stiles; having him reciprocate those feelings? That. That was what mattered. That is what made everything just a little bit more bearable, a little bit more normal. He was there when you were scared, and even if he wasn't a werewolf, he still gave his all to protect you. He made you laugh, and he made you feel safe, and he was there when you'd cry or when you just didn't want to be alone.

Losing that--Stiles--had broken you.

He doesn’t love you, you know?

He never cared about you.

What are you compared to her?

Eyes clenched shut, you ignore the words that try to leak in, that try to echo themselves as reminders. You don’t want to hear them, you don’t care anymore – so you do what you’ve done for the past month to avoid it and tip your head back, let the burning sensation run through you as you down the rest of whatever mix of alcohol had been poured in your cup. Half of the time you weren’t even aware of what you were ingesting into your body, but you also didn’t really care anymore. The alcohol made everything dull, a lukewarm comfort that allowed you to focus on other things like partying and wasting away, instead of the nogitsune, instead of the supernatural, instead of losing Allison, and most importantly, instead of Stiles..

Because that’s what you did now – waste away.

The girl you were before didn’t exist. The old you would’ve spent what free time you had studying, trying to keep up your grades while balancing the supernatural and basically, saving Beacon Hills repeatedly. The you now drank, smoked, partied and repeated. The you now didn’t talk to Scott or Lydia or Stiles.

The you now wasn’t dating Stiles either.

Feeling an arm wrap around your waist, skin against skin, pulls you from your jumbled thoughts. The music from the party fades back into your senses, the sudden banging of the beat causing your head to ache in response. There’s a pair of lips next to your ear, whispering something and it takes you half a second to realize who it even is.

“Hey baby.”

You turn to meet the familiar pair of brown eyes, for a moment mistaking those eyes for Stiles', a flash of his warm, inviting and albeit goofy face flashing in your mind, before you blink and he’s gone.

“Jake,” you call, head tilting.

“Why’re you here all by yourself?” He asks, pouting. “Why don’t we dance?”

You shake your head, squirming in his grasp. “Don’t wanna.”

He blinks and the pout turns into a frown, eyes hardening as he huffs. “Well, I do.”

He all but lifts you up. Jakes never really cared about what you’ve wanted anyways, so you don’t know why you’re surprised either way. He drags you like you’re nothing more than a ragdoll to him, pulling you into the mix of the crowd where you instantly feel the heat from everybody dancing and sweating around you. There's bodies everywhere, at every inch of you, leaving no room to breathe as the music pounds loudly, as if inside your own head, making everything a blurred mess. You groan as Jake pulls you closer to him by the waist, your mind lolling and your vision blurring as he jerks you too fast – without a single consideration to the fact that you’re very much intoxicated now.

Moving your arms to his shoulders so you have something to support yourself on, you turn your head, trying to blink through the flashing lights and mass of bodies surrounding you.

Until something familiar catches your eye.

You think you’re imagining it at first, almost positive you are. You see his face everywhere enough when you’re sober, so it’d make sense that drunk off your ass wouldn’t be any different. But as you blink, once, twice, Stiles’ face from the crowd doesn’t disappear. Instead he steadily grows closer, and you recognize the panicked, almost desperate look on his face as he pushes his way through the crowd. You barely notice Scott behind him, too focused on Stiles – because this was the first time you’ve seen him in weeks.

Having dated him, you knew his schedule perfectly. You knew your friends’ schedule too. It was easy to avoid them, especially since you’ve barely been going to school anyways.

And yet, here he is.

Right in front of you.

It takes you a moment to realize that Stiles has now seen you too, and his eyes have locked directly onto your own.

You’re nothing to him.

You watch as the recognition sinks in, eyes widening, lips parting; his hand moves to slap Scott in the chest at the fact that, finally, they’ve managed to find you. 

You never were anything to him.

Eyes clenched shut, you whimper at the words that echo in your mind. They never fade, they never go away – but seeing him so close… Everything suddenly feels so much worse than it ever has; there’s an ache that builds in your chest that makes you feel like you can’t breathe. A suffocating, horrifying feeling as you remember that day, the words the nogitsune–Stiles–had said to you all whilst he stood at the other end of the room.

Too close.

You’re not the least bit excited to see either of them – especially Stiles.

“Shit,” you mumble, voice cracking in distress as you step back, pulling at the grip Jake has on you. It doesn’t take him long to sense your discomfort, brows furrowed in confusion as you pull from him desperately, eyes wild as you glance around for some sort of escape route. And even though realistically, you’d known you couldn’t avoid them forever, you also weren’t ready to face them. Not Lydia, or Scott and especially not Stiles.

Not Stiles.

Jake, baffled at your complete change in attitude, shakes his head in confusion, not being able to understand what was happening. “Babe, what’s the–”

“Let go!” It’s a screaming cry as you see Stiles gaining on you, getting closer, your voice muffled underneath the loud base of music that thumps and bounces off the walls but Jake hears you all the same. You’ve ripped your arm away from him, pushing him back and he stumbles on his own two feet as you turn without hesitation, pushing your way through the crowd.

“Hey, Y/N! Get back–where are you going!”

He moves to chase after you, face twisted into an expression of anger at your complete dismissal of him; but suddenly there’s a hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back. Jake pauses at the small pinch in the grip, glancing down to see what he swears is a set of claws on his chest, before his eyes flicker up to see none other than; “McCall?”

Said boy smiles sheepishly at him, just as a blurred figure rushes past him, “hey, Jake.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

-

It feels as if you can’t breathe, even as the fresh air hits you like a slap to the face.

You’d run until you made it out of the house, pushing and weaving your way through masses of bodies that didn’t care for you and your distress. Everyone was none the wiser, even as you heaved in panic, and the second you made it outside, your footsteps halted, a hand pressing against your chest where you could practically feel your heart pounding madly against it. You wheeze as you try to catch your breath, trying to ignore the thoughts racing a mile per second in your own head, barely giving you time to think.

What the hell was Stiles doing there?

How’d he even manage to find you?

You’d made sure. Absolute, one hundred percent sure that you’d cut all ties off from him and the rest of the pack. You couldn’t face them, so you refused to; even if it was the cowardly thing to do. You didn’t care.

All you cared about was never having to see him again.

“Y/N?”

Freezing, every single muscle in your body tenses at the sound of his voice.

For a moment it’s silent, neither of you movement. Then, you hear him take a step towards you, just faintly;

“Y/N, what–”

You spin before he can touch you, facing him with his hand held out before him helplessly. Your face twists into distress as you meet his eyes – those warm, loving eyes that have haunted you since everything happened. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop seeing them every time you close your eyes. No amount of drinking or partying made them fade away, and even giving yourself to the first boy that gave you attention wasn’t enough.

Jake had meant to be a distraction from Stiles. Something to make it even just a little bit easier. It was too isolating being alone, so when Jake had approached you after hearing news of you and Stiles’ breakup, you’d just… let him do what he wanted.

But it didn’t really matter because Stiles never really faded away like you wanted.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

Stiles takes a step towards you, and you react without thinking.

“Stop! Stop! Just…” Shaking your head, you try to ignore the way they blur with tears, “stop.”

“Y/N,” Stiles calls, too stubborn to stop now. Of course he’s too stubborn. You know Stiles and you don’t know why you ever thought he’d given up so easily; especially after how hard it’s been to find you in the first place. “I’ve been looking for you every day for the past few months. You hardly show up to school and when you do, I know you avoid us… avoid me… I just, I just want to explain okay? I just want to apologize… for, for what happened.”

You just shake your head.

He never wanted you.

Shut up! You need the words to shut up.

“The things he said–what I said… I didn’t mean any of them.”

Your lips part, words want to leave, but you feel a sob break past before you can, choking back on your own tears as you clench your first so hard your nails dig crevices into your palms. You want to cut your palms open if that’ll make this stop, make the memories stop rushing ahead and get Stiles to go away.

“You have to know I didn’t mean any of it.” Stiles cries, desperate for you to listen–to believe him.

How could anyone love you?

“You said such terrible things,” you whisper, speaking to Stiles for the first time in months. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t hide how hurt you are. “They broke my heart.”

Taking a small step forward, Stiles nods, fighting back his own tears. “I know… I didn’t mean any of it. It was my lips, my-my voice, but it wasn’t me. It was the nogitsune.”

And you nod, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I know,” you cry, because you did, but–“but it still came from you.”

His hand falls on your arm, finally reaching you, touch hesitant, ghosting, before he steps towards you, pressing his hand to your arm. His free hand moves to your chin, gently coaxing your head up to meet his gaze. Those warm eyes that you love so much.

“I tried to forget about you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Because it hurts to think about you. I’d do anything to forget you, even date a guy like that,” you gesture back to the house, towards where Jake was, “because I thought finding someone so different from you would help me forget you.”

Frowning, Stiles sighs; “I don’t want you to forget me.”

And it comes with a rushing, heartbreaking realization that; “I don’t want to forget you either.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Stiles explains, “I just want you to let me help you.”

Your lips part, but in the next second the door to the party slams open. Jake is who you see first, and then Scott behind, trying to pull him back. Both you and Stiles eye the both of them, before you turn back to Stiles, watching the way his face softens, eyes staring at you with so much hope. There’s a renewed desperation, anticipation in his eyes at the arrival of Jake–desperate for you to focus on him and not Jake. “Just let me help you, okay?”

And you hesitate, pausing to answer. You knew it wasn’t Stiles who’d said those words, that it was the nogitsune, but they’d hurt all the same because it had come from his lips anyways. The nogitsune had known exactly how to hurt you, break you and twist everything around. And that’s just it, it was the nogitsune and not Stiles, and even if you knew that, you thought that leaving Stiles was what would help you. But forgetting him wasn’t working and you were silly to think it was ever a viable option. Stiles wasn’t going to give up and it seemed neither was the pack, and the way you’d chosen to deal with it all wasn’t a solution either.

Drinking? Partying? Letting some guy like Jake dictate you and your life?

That wasn’t you.

You didn’t deserve that.

And Stiles deserved a second chance for a mistake that was never his to begin with.

So, sending one last look Jake’s way before settling back on Stiles, you nod.

“Okay.”

[macravishedbymactavish]

I Don't Care if You're Contagious (David "Hesh" Walker x GN!Reader)

TW: Mentions of sickness (ie: flu), Hesh being the best boyfriend anyone could ask for

Blog HQ

Everything hurt, your head, throat, all the way down to your toes. TOES. You were fighting some bug that was going around and it knocked the metaphorical wind right out of you. Leaving you tired, sore, and grumpy.

You didn't realize how exhausted you truly were until you flopped onto the bed following your shower. The feeling of your body sinking into the fluffy covers, along with the loose sweatpants and stolen t-shirt (from your ever so loving boyfriend) made you reconsider your original plan. You took a lukewarm shower to try and break the fever, then you were going to eat something. Except in this moment sleep sounded much more tempting.

So that's what you did, an impromptu 3 hour nap that was interuppted by your phone ringing beside you.

With a soft groan you flipped the device over to see who disrupted this much needed nap. Your attitude quickly changed when you saw the contact ID.

Hash Brown ❤️

"Hey" you stifled a yawn, rolling over in the bed. Grimacing at the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin. Another shower was being added to plan for your afternoon.

"You're finally awake, or alive!" You heard your boyfriend chuckle, "I have a favour to ask".

"What?" You whined, still wanting nothing more than to roll back over and continue sleeping. Eyes still heavy, body stiff, and you were still low on energy. At least you didn't feel quite as awful when your body was in temporary death, power saving mode.

"One of the packages I ordered just got delivered, but I'm still on base for another few hours. Can you grab it from the deck? It's not going to last outside for that long." It was a valid request, even if you despised the idea of moving in this moment.

"Fine" you mumbled, forcing yourself up from the bed with a groan. Every muscle screaming in protest. "You're lucky I love you David" you teased, padding downstairs to the front door.

"Pulling out my full name, ouch" he laughed, feeling bad that he wasn't home to help take care of you. Considering you cuddling him while he was sick a week ago is probably the reason you feel so awful right now. In his defense however, you did say (and he quotes) I don't care if you're contagious. I'm loving up on you.

"I promise this favour is mutually beneficial". You rubbed at your eyes with one hand as you unlocked the front door.

You looked down to see a take out bag and cup from your favorite resturaunt. A large smile broke out across your face as you brought the food inside.

"You ordered food?" You put the phone on speaker as you opened the bag, finding your go-to order inside.

"I ordered you food, yes. Since I'm not home to make you anything while you're sick." You could've cried, wondering how you get to call the most thoughtful human on this planet yours.

"Thank you love" you whispered, maneuvering your lunch over to the couch so you could eat and binge movies for the afternoon.

"Anything for you" he quickly responded, as if your heart wasn't already putty in his hands. "I've got to get back to work, but I'll love up on you tonight. I love you!" You returned the words, happily digging into the food after the call ended.

This man was without a doubt your soul mate.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @ai-luni

[lady-morrigen]

Could I perhaps request Cassian Andor fluff with reader going through a particularly difficult bout of winter depression and him having the patience of a saint? Much love ❤️

Daylily

pairing: cassian andor x gn!reader (it was accidentally gn, so let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: so first, i'm sorry i take a million years to fill requests! idk what drew me to this one, but i guess because i'm army crawling towards the end of winter myself. i'm not sure if this is what you were going for, but my current work stress sorta worked its way in here... my apologies lol i can write something fluffier when i don't feel endless rage

rating: g

warnings: seasonal depression angst, job stress, brief mention of parental death (nothing graphic)

You’ve always hated it, the way the sun dropped beyond the horizon before you had a chance to feel it thaw the frozen contours of your face. It hardly seemed fair. A hint of a cotton candy sky peeking through the slats of the window over your bunk was as close as you came to seeing the sun all day. 

Day in and day out, you were surrounded by the damp, clay walls of the base, working yourself to the exhaustion to ensure data collected by the Rebellion’s Intelligence Officers was properly decoded. Lukewarm cups of caf and nutrition bars weren’t exactly a balanced or healthy diet, but they got you through more often than not. Each passing day, as your vitamin D stores depleted and the hunger pains grew stronger, your irritability wedged itself permanently at the front of your personality. 

When the doors of the tech bay slid open with a hiss, you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. The man headed toward you was a particular thorn in your side, always one to meet your icy tone with an edge of his own, taunting you, pushing you, like a thumb to a bruise. Captain Andor had never met a spat he didn’t absolutely savor and you seemed to be the most recent object of his ire. 

He approached the desk, smug smile in place as he braced his arms on the top, crossing over the desktop, crowding your space to an annoying degree. With a huff, you sat down your data pad, steeling your gaze and facing him head-on.

“Captain Andor,” you said plainly, disdain evident in your tone. 

“Always so happy to see me, Lieutenant.” His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. Truthfully, he looked just as exhausted as you felt. His brown eyes no longer held the sparkle, the hope that you were sure once shone in them.  

He could have been lovely once, you thought. Before the Empire crushed our spirits and the cold leeched out what little happiness we had left.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” 

Your already thin patience was waning, desperate to move the conversation along so you could get back to work. He tapped a finger against the screen of your data pad insistently. 

“Did you decrypt those Coruscant messages yet?” His lips set into a thin line, his features twisting into something much more serious, all traces of playfulness drained from his expression. 

You scrubbed a hand over your face, the feeling of being impossibly overwhelmed bubbled up in your chest, creeping up your throat and threatening to suffocate you. You fought back against the tears welling in your eyes. You knew well that Captain Andor wasn’t one to miss things like that, no matter how well controlled, and showing him any sign of weakness was out of the question. 

“Like I told you yesterday, Sir, we are very behind. It’s going to take me at least two more days.” 

You turned to the table behind you, taking a deep breath to regulate yourself, looking anywhere but at the disappointment on the face of the man behind you. When you turned to him again, his arms were crossed over his chest, and he was eyeing you quizzically, as if trying to figure out your deepest secret. A few silent moments passed when you suddenly realized he was waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sorry,” you started to speak, the sound breaking in your throat in traitorous defiance to your control. You felt your shoulders droop, the fight leaving your body in place of defeat. “I’m doing the best I can.”

The energy in the room changed then. Captain Andor’s body softened, his eyes held a kindness and understanding that hadn’t been there before. He looked almost sad for you, as if he could empathize with you. And you supposed maybe he could. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward once more. “How much of the key have you completed?”

“Captain Andor, I sai-” He held up a hand to cut you off. 

“I was only wondering if there was enough for me to try the decryption on my own. I want to help you.”

The look on your face must have been a comical mixture of confusion and shock because the corners of his eyes crinkled and he chuckled, throwing his mask of confidence back on and leaning into an elbow. 

“Don’t look so surprised.” In any other situation, the way he grinned at you would have made you weak in the knees. “I can be a nice guy when the situation calls for it. I am a spy, afterall.”

You nodded, dumbly, grabbing the data pad and bringing up the partially completed decryption key, handing it to him. 

“So far, this is all I could make out. If you could apply what we have to the messages, maybe we can get a headstart on figuring out what it all means.” 

His brows knit together in concentration as he poured over the symbols, picking up on the pattern, analyzing your skill. He moved around to the back of the console, pulling a stool up beside you and got to work. As you focused on a special project for General Draven, the two of you began to work in relative silence, punctuated every now and then by Captain Andor asking questions about specific sequential symbols.

It was comfortable, you thought, working with him like that. You never knew that he could be anything other than the ornery man you’ve always met, worn down by the weight of the responsibility resting on his shoulders. As if reading your mind, he spoke, pulling you out of your thoughts with a jolt. 

“You weren’t always like this,” he said. You whipped your head toward him, shooting him a glare as deadly as blaster fire. “When you first got here, I mean.”

“What exactly am I like?” You groused, setting down your data pad to face him fully. He shrugged noncommittally. 

“Stressed. Angry. Argumentative.”

You laughed, something humorless and cruel. How dare he?

“That’s rich coming from you, Captain Andor. This very well may be the first time we’ve spent more than two minutes in a room together and I haven’t wanted to rip your head off. If I’m any of those things, I am only mirroring your own temperament.”

For a long moment, he stared, his dark eyes flitting back and forth over your own, searching for… something. With a sigh, he relented. 

“You’re right.”

“I’m… what?” The fight drained from you all at once. You could tell he was sincere, and maybe even slightly remorseful. 

“You’re right. I am all of those things and I have been for a very long time. That’s why it bothers me to see them in you. I wanted better for you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Before, you had kindness in your eyes. You believed in what we’re doing here. You knew it was something good. You had hope.” 

“I still believe in what we’re doing, I just…”

“Thought it would be easier than this? That we would have won by now? Me too.” 

He turned his attention back to his data pad and the weight of his words lay heavy between you. 

“Captain Andor, I’m so-”

“Cassian.”

“What?”

“That’s my name. ‘Captain Andor’ is so formal. You can call me Cassian.”

“Cassian Andor… it’s nice.” And it was nice. Knowing his full name made the miles of distance between you feel like feet. Made this intimidating man feel more like a tangible person. Someone you could grow to understand, maybe even like. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did Mothma decide to build a base on the coldest planet in the galaxy?” That earned you a chuckle, low and warm. 

“Hoth is the coldest planet in the galaxy. We’ll soon have a base there too. We’re headed there once we’re done here.”

“How convenient,” you rolled your eyes. “But you know what I mean. Is this not a better fit for the soulless many of the Empire? I swear, I can feel it leeching the happiness from my body the longer we stay here.”

“Is that what the problem is?” He looked at you, curiosity once again twisting his brow. “Where are you from?” 

“Alderaan. My father was a farmer.” 

“Was?”

“The Empire’s destruction extends far beyond Coruscant. They wanted to use our land to build a base and they were… unhappy with him when he refused. My older brother and I were able to escape, but just barely. My mother was a childhood friend of the Organas. They provided us with shelter and sent us to Mon Mothma when we refused to sit on our hands and watch the chaos unfold.” He was staring at you. Taking in every word with silent contemplation. You nervously rubbed your palms against the rough fabric of your uniformed thighs. “And yeah so anyway… Now I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think you’ll go back? When we win?”

“I like to think so. I have so much to thank the Organas for. They saved us. If it weren’t for them…” 

“I get it. I’ve been there.” You didn’t pry. You got the feeling he wasn’t particularly happy to speak of his past.

“Yeah,” you said. “It would all feel worth it if I could just see the sunshine again, feel the warmth of it on my face. Something other than constant, dreadful cold and blank walls.”

Cassian glanced back to the data pad, making note of the time. 

“Hey, we’ve been at this for a while,” he said. “It’s almost morning. You should get some rest.”

“Morning is the only time I get to see the sun shine all day. I’d just end up sleeping through it if I went to bed now.”

“I see,” he said. “I have an idea.”

He took the data pad from your hand, setting onto the console beside his and grabbing you gently by the wrist, pulling you toward the door. He grabbed your coat from a nearby stool and handed it to you. 

“You’ll need this.”

As you followed him through the hallways, your curiosity continued to grow. You stopped by his workstation so that he could grab his own coat, a long, navy parka with a furry hood. When he slipped it on, he seemed to transform into a different person. He looked soft, small in comparison to the bulk of the coat, and incredibly warm. 

He tossed a pair of gloves to you, slipping on a pair of his own, before extending his hand. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

“First, we’re going to get some caf,” he pulled you toward the mezzanine impatiently, as if he was racing against an imaginary clock. “The second part is a surprise.”

“Cassian, I really don’t like surprises.” You tried to stop, to pull your hand from his, but he held tight. He turned, placing a cup of caf in your free hand and you could have cried from the warmth as it slowly seeped through your glove.

“You’ll like this one,” he said, a smile threatening to crack at the corners of his mouth. He tugged your joined hands again, impatiently, leading you toward the exit. 

“Please, Cassian, it’s freezing.” You were whining, you knew it, but you were already so cold and the thought of going outside, into the frosted darkness of Tokmia, was enough to make you want to throw a full-blown tantrum. 

He said nothing as he led you through the forest, making his way to a steep hill and motioning for you to walk ahead of him. You glared at him once more for dramatic effect, huffing as you made your way up the steep embankment. When you reached the top, you stopped short, gasping in surprise. 

The hill overlooked a pristine snow field, sparkling in the waning moonlight, breathtakingly beautiful in its serenity. You turned to face Cassian, huffing slightly as he crested the hill. He offered up a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked toward you. 

“It’s nice, right?” He took a sip of his caf, an effort to disguise a smile, you thought. “I found it once when I needed to escape K’s blabbering. I come here when I need a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”

“It’s beautiful." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, breathless as you noticed the pinky blue light of the sunrise begin to peek through the darkness. You inhaled sharply, the sound getting caught in your throat as you realized why he had been in such a rush.

“Looks like we made it just in time,” he said, taking another sip of caf. 

You closed your eyes as the sun crested over the horizon, reveling in the way the light pushed past your eyelids. When you were younger, you caught as many Alderaanean sunrises as you could. There was some kind of magic tied to being the first person to catch sight of the sun as she rose from her slumber. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that feeling. 

You glanced at Cassian, interested to see if he was enjoying the sunrise as well and found that he was already looking at you. His smile was genuine, satisfied, and dazzling. 

Maybe he is lovely afterall, you thought. He just needed a little warmth.

[ispyspookymansion]

spaghetti

onion (half a big sweet or a whole medium yellow), garlic, olive oil, marinara sauce (homemade preferred, store bought is fine), red wine, parmigiano reggiano (preferred, parmesan is fine), ground beef or sausage (love a spicy chicken sausage for this), spaghetti, spinach, spices to taste, herbs to taste (fresh basil and parsley highly recommended)

Chop your onion and garlic. Heat oil to just past medium in the biggest sauce pan you’ve got, then add the veggies. Move it continually to prevent sticking to the pan, reduce heat as needed to avoid burning, cook until the onion is just tender and transparent. Pour a quarter cup of red wine into the pan. Give a good scrape & stir to make sure nothing is sticking. Then pour in your marinara and reduce the heat to a low simmer. Add fresh herbs if desired. Grate your cheese into there if desired. Stir occasionally as you work.

Put a pot of salted water on to start boiling. If you have sausage, chop it now. Heat a splash of olive oil in a pan to medium high heat. Put your ground or chopped meat into the pan, seasoned as desired. Cook until just browned, stirring and flipping as needed. If ground meat, drain the excess fat before adding the meat to the sauce. Allow this to continue simmering together, stirring occasionally. Don’t put the pan in the sink.

Your pot of water is now boiling. Add spaghetti. Cook the pasta only halfway to al dente. Use these precious minutes to start cleaning the kitchen. Then pour a quarter cup of the pasta water (up to a half cup, depends how reduced your sauce is looking) into the sauce. Raise the heat on the sauce to medium. Not boiling but above the low simmer. Now drain the pasta, and dump it straight from the colander into the sauce pan. It will finish cooking in the sauce pan. Stir everything up in there. When the pasta is done, reduce the heat to the lowest setting to keep warm (or just turn it off).

Take the pan you used to cook your meat, and splash some olive oil in there. Wilt your spinach until just tender, then transfer it to the sauce pan. Do this in batches as spinach wilts to absolutely nothing and you will use the entire bag. Portion the pasta into air tight containers to be refrigerated or frozen (defrost overnight in fridge or by submerging the container in lukewarm water for 30 min). Put the empty pan in the sink and fill with water immediately to avoid having to scrub it so stupid crazy style later.

Serve hot with more grated cheese, fresh cracked pepper, a garnish of fresh herbs, and glass of red wine.

YAYYYY this sounds delicious….i estimated some measurements based on my experience making pasta sauces before but correct me if im egregiously wrong. also is there a specific kind of red wine youd recommend? ive never cooked with wine and we never used it in my house growing up im freaking clueless!!!!

[blorbologist]

Cat's Cradle - Chapter 11

Ch 1 … Ch 10 

“I thought cats and baths didn’t mix?”

“They don’t,” Vex confirms a little sourly, double checking their workstation. “But she has fleas, and I’m not dealing with these - those bastards on top of everything else. So - flea bath.”

Percy looks over his hands and the kitten he holds in them again, scanning for any unwelcome visitors. 

This sixth kitten is tiny - smaller even than Screwdriver and Sprocket, the real runt of the litter. Her fur is so black it hadn’t registered how dirty she was until he’d tried giving her a gentle scratch and his nails came away with dirt. He hopes it’s dirt, at least. 

Vex takes his contemplation for doubt. “It’s easy with babies this small,” she promises. “Just a ring of soap around the head and wash in lukewarm water. You can hold her and I’ll scrub and she’ll be squeaky clean in no time.”

--

It’s not easy - this kitten is livid.

Percy’s glasses are sprinkled liberally with sudsy water from the flailing, and Vex has already gotten soap in her eye. Even with two people crowded over the sink she is surprisingly good at evading any cleaning, wiggling with surprising strength. More than that, she’s yowling, downright yowling, and something about the sound throws Percy’s insides into an irrational panic. 

He read something about cat meows being similar to a baby’s cries, to spur a reaction out of owners. Hadn’t quite believed it until now, with every howl sending him into a fit of shushing and reassurance. 

“Darling?” Vex asks, tsk-ing when the little head wiggles away from her sponge for the nth time. “What’s the loudest thing in the workshop?”

That feels a little rude - he'd certainly make a fuss if he was given a bath by hairless apes. “What about Spanner?” he suggests instead, wincing when the claws dig in and pull, valiantly, to extract the kitten from his grasp. He holds as firmly as he dares. 

“A spanner in the works?” Vex cuts off her trail of thought with a delighted gasp. “Oh, sweet baby - she’s got a little white, there!”

“Oh?”

“You were so icky we couldn’t even see your pretty markings,” Vex coos. The kitten tries to bite the finger that goes to smooth away the wet fur. Still toothless, she just succeeds in gumming viciously. “What a pretty little girl.”

She pulls the sponge away to allow Percy a better look.

Yes - just there, on her forehead, the thinnest sliver of white hairs, connecting to a smattering on her muzzle. And white toes, now that he examines her more closely. Vex’s next rinse, with a cup of warm water, comes away brown and reveals a star on the kitten’s throat, too. 

Black, with a hint of white.

Percy drowns the thought by dipping to press a kiss to the wet little head. 

He catches Vex’s fingers, there, too - but can’t exactly stumble into an apology because he tastes soap and suds and is suddenly all too occupied hacking and rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

--

As soon as they’re done - kittens fed, spare kitten fed, Trinket fed, and finally, finally humans fed - Percy sequesters himself into Vax’s room. Stares at the ceiling for several long minutes. Stares at his open phone for a few shorter ones. It’s with sparse hesitation he dials the number and calls. 

She picks up on the third ring. “Percy?”

“Evening, Cassandra.” He swallows heavily. “How is school?”

He can easily imagine her narrowed eyes. “What answer will get you to the point? You don’t call for casual talk - I know you would rather keep it to text whenever possible. Or emails, even.” Her tone eases considerably when she asks, “What’s wrong, brother?”

Gods, where to start? 

So many places he can’t. He leafs through any number of openers. Comes up empty. 

Cass’ sigh jitters through the phone. “Reminded?”

“Yes,” he says. “Hospital - vet, I mean. There had been a lot of blood, and the white, and-”

“Percy? Are you-”

“Fine, now,” he assures her. “Better - might have had a bit of a panic attack.”

“Does this have anything to do with the kittens? Five, right?” When he hums an affirmative - too tired to bring up the whole ordeal of Curio - she swears. “Fuck. Five is not great.”

“Six, now.”

“Oh,” says Cassandra. “Okay, that certainly explains it. Is it okay?”

"Yes - yes, it was the mother, that - she should be alright, but..."

Cass, uncharacteristically, swears again.

Percival is not a superstitious man. It’s human nature to find patterns - faces in floorboards, lucky habits to swear by. Enough coincidence and the mind will believe in anything. And five kittens, with a sixth appearing, belated, the smallest, dark but for streaks of white - 

Well. Pattern recognition.

She's shuffling over the line, like she’s sitting up, or down, or otherwise settling to consider this more carefully. 

“I’m wondering,” says Percy, when she’s quiet too long and his mind starts to wander. It helps, thinking out loud. “If… perhaps, I made a mistake, in taking them on.”

“You’d spend every moment regretting it if you hadn’t,” Cass points out. “Too bloody responsible.”

“But now I’m invested, Cass -”

“And you’re scared positively shitless that it’ll bite you in the ass. Brother, you can’t keep walling off your feelings forever.” She hesitates. “Maybe… maybe this is a good way to deal with them.”

Movement draws Percy’s attention to the vivarium across the room. Simon, jaws stretched in a yawn. It’s uncanny, how wide they open. That had taken some getting used to - he’s seen Vax feed it once, and Vex earlier this week, but alltogether he's decided reptiles are not quite his thing. If cuter than he expected.

The snake - corn snake, he thinks - is basking quite contently, draped over a shelf carved to look like a dagger. He’d never quite gotten the story out of Vax. Keyleth, though, had been happy to share: Vax’ildan had found the creature in a box outside a petstore, cold, with a badly infected eye, and stuffed it into his jacketsleeves while they figured out what to do with it. Simon had apparently slithered right up, past the shoulder, to settle around Vax’s waist. Something about the experience had apparently clicked, for him, and he’d decided to keep the scaly new friend.

Simon’s tongue flicks out. 

“Percy?”

He adjusts his grip on the phone. “I’m here, sorry.”

“Could have sworn your head was in the clouds, again.” Cass sounds a little like mother when she gets gentle: “Kittens are ready for adoption at, what - two months, two months and a half? And once they start to wean they’ll be far less work. The worst of it is behind you, and if you need to step back… it’s not the end of the world, Percy.”

The tension is massaged from his chest as he sighs. “Thank you, Cass-”

“Send me a photo, will you? I need something cute after that dour line of thinking.”

He obliges easily enough. Between Keyleth’s frequent demands for updates on the litter and his own need to photograph and record everything, in case it should become necessary, there’s already a fair handful of the new kitten - Spanner.

“Sent.”

He hears the notification ping through their call. There’s a moment of silence, then, deadpan:

“I can’t see the resemblance.”

Percy grins. “Dark-haired little run that howls and howls and howls-”

“And which one is the pimply nerd?” she asks sweetly, and Percy laughs.

[jaskierx]

for the domestic prompts: how about 11 and Butchie (I'm sure nothing could go wrong if Hughie tries to make Butcher tea)

you're so right. what could possibly go wrong

i spent way too long on this and it got out of hand but never mind

now on ao3!

–––

'You want me to get you anything? Something to eat?'

Butcher begins to shake his head, wincing as the movement causes pain to flare behind his eyes. 'Nah. Not hungry. Could fucking murder a cuppa, though.'

Hughie tenses. 'A cup of…tea?'

It's been months since he last made tea for Butcher. Usually Butcher is in charge of hot beverages, tea for himself and coffee for Hughie, made each morning in matching mugs.

Hughie hasn't been trusted to make tea since The Incident.

Surely Butcher hasn't forgotten about The Incident.

If he has, the head injury he sustained in the fight must be worse than previously thought.

Butcher stares at him. 'Yeah. That a problem?'

Hughie can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

'No.' he says, failing to even convince himself. 'No, of course, I'll be right back.'

His heart shouldn't be racing this fast. He shouldn't have a dry mouth, or a sickly feeling in his stomach. Making a cup of tea is very easy and objectively less stressful than pretty much everything Hughie does as part of his day job (if you can call general vigilante crime and espionage a 'day job').

But he thought that last time, and look how that ended up.

This has to be different.

With a deep breath, he selects Butcher's favourite mug and gets to work.

–––

Hughie's already left the room by the time Butcher realises what he's done.

Fuck.

Hughie is very good at a great many things. Unfortunately, making a cup of tea that's fit for human consumption is not one of them.

They'd discovered this a long time ago, when they hadn't been together for very long. Hughie had concocted something that Butcher would later describe as an 'abomination unto the lord', a diabolical monstrosity consisting of too much milk and sugar and too little tea and an odd taste of lemon for some reason, microwaved to tepidity and presented to Butcher in earnest. He'd known from the start that it was not a cuppa to be trusted, altogether too pale and lukewarm, but he'd decided to give Hughie the benefit of the doubt. And he'd lived to regret it.

He'd never admit it to Hughie, but it's the only time he's ever seriously considered ending their relationship.

He's made his own tea ever since.

–––

The cup that Hughie passes him when he walks back into the room is hot to touch, slightly damp from where Hughie's shaking hands have caused a few drops of the tea inside to spill over the edge. That in itself is a promising sign, especially combined with the fact that Butcher can't remember hearing the telltale ping of the microwave.

Additionally, the tea actually looks like tea is supposed to, the rich brown colour worlds away from the pathetic shade of light beige that is burned into his memory from last time. Perhaps it's just an oncoming concussion, but he's actually starting to feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be as bad as he's been expecting.

He braces himself and raises the mug to his lips.

Instantly, it's as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He swallows the sip of tea and breathes a sigh of relief.

It tastes like a completely mediocre cup of tea.

It's a bit too sweet, a little under-brewed, clearly made using a teabag that's seen a few seasons – but it's drinkable, and that's such a relief that Butcher wants to cry.

–––

Hughie's been holding his breath ever since he began walking back from the kitchen, and he's beginning to feel lightheaded. He exhales, breath shuddering, and winces as Butcher takes the first sip from the mug.

'I'm sorry, I did everything you said after last time, I swear, I used the kettle, I put the milk in last, I set a timer on my phone while I was stirring, I didn't let the spoon touch the sides, I'm just cursed, I've got a fucking tea curse, every tea I touch turns to shit–'

'Hughie.' Butcher cuts him off, his voice soft. 'There is nothing wrong with this cup of tea. It tastes fine.'

Realistically, it's the highest praise Butcher could've possibly bestowed. Positive enough that Hughie can rest assured that he hasn't caused a repeat of The Incident. Negative enough that Hughie believes him, instead of becoming more concerned about the head injury.

Fuck first dates and first times and moving in together. Turns out the real important relationship milestone is successfully making a cup of tea for your partner without being accused of attempting to poison them.

The bar is low, but Hughie has narrowly avoided limboing under it, and for that he's allowed to be proud of himself.

[minteacutie]

8. taking a bath together with Steddie? 🥹

Thought this would be a nice part 2 to the first prompt here , that I answered, lol I hope that's okay. Also I feel like saying this is another one of my favorite tropes the idea of taking a bath together and washing someone's hair it's just so intimate and soft. 8. Taking a Bath together Steve blinked brown eyes as his boyfriend slowly came into focus. “Hey there,” Eddie smiled, his brown eyes filled with warmth as he cupped Steve’s face, rubbing gentle circles into his cheek with a calloused thumb, “how are you feeling, Sunshine?” He groaned burrowing further into his blanket puddle with a full body shiver, leaning a bit into Eddie’s cooler hand. “That good,”Eddie huffed out a chuckle, moving hand up to comb through Steve’s hair using his hand to lazily scratch his scalp with his blunt nails, “do you want me to fill up the tub? Get you all cozy before you take a nap?” Steve nodded with a wide jaw cracking yawn, tracking his boyfriend with his eyes as he ducked out of the room to get the bath ready. It felt longer than it actually was before Eddie returned, time moving sluggishly like molasses. Blinking his eyes open again exhausted as the older man helped him off the couch, leading Steve carefully to the bathroom. Opening the bathroom door a thick steam left the bathroom enveloping them, already starting to loosen up the building congestion thick in his sinus’. The trickle of watery mucus down his left nostril making his breath hitch. “I’ve got you, Sunshine.”Eddie mumbled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, feeling Steve’s chest swell with itchy breaths. “ Hhh’hah’ HHITSCHHIUuh!! ‘TSCCH! HAH’ASSshuue!!...sndf,” Steve snuffled thickly rubbing his leaky nose on his wrist, “gh…gross.” He croaked, rubbing at his pink nose. Eddie rubbed his boyfriends back in slow smooth circles, helping the younger man take off his clothes easing him into the bathtub before stripping down. He slid into the bathtub behind his boyfriend letting Steve recline back against his chest with a contented sigh. Taking the shampoo off the shelf, lathering it into Steve’s thick brown hair, scratching into his scalp with his nails. “How are you literally a godsend?” Steve groaned, letting his boyfriend carefully rinse the shampoo out of his hair, before gently massaging the conditioner into hair. “Mmmm I try my hardest,”Eddie murmured, pressing a warm kiss into his shoulder, letting the conditioner sit for a few minutes then he rinsed it out of his hair. “ AHH‘TSSHuu!” Steve snapped forward abruptly with a harsh sneeze, “gh…sorry about that.” He rubbed at his pink nose with an itchy little squelch. “Bless you,”Eddie mumbled into his shoulder, “no sorry’s needed, Sunshine.” They stayed in the tub until the water turned lukewarm, Eddie shifted slightly rousing the younger man helping him out of the tub. He wrapped him in one of the obscenely fluffy towels, carefully drying him off. Eddie helped him get changed into a pair of gray sweats pulling the yellow sweatshirt over Steve’s head pressing a kiss to his warm forehead. He changed before he tucked the younger man into bed before crawling in pulling Steve into his arms letting him rest against his chest. Steve melted into Eddie arms, the older man rubbing his back until his breath evened out and he began to snore softly. 

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 65 // Take My Hand // Day 49

Contents (Warnings): Did I make the right decision? (Angst, safe soft vore, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 2,200+ (I WILL BE MAKING A MAGIC SYSTEM BOOKLET AS SOON AS I CAN, PROMISE!)

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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

The chill of the cold burned. "You wanna join us?" A younger Wicks offered his hand. He looked about seven, much shorter hair, cut by himself when Madre had her back turned.  Behind him stood Charletta. She bounced up and down with excitement, awaiting my answer. I moved up my hand, clutching the swing's rusted chains with the other. My eyes locked onto the care in his.  He offered me the warmth I needed to survive the storm.

(Nov. 13th, Sunday)

I lifted my head from the coffee shop table. I knew I dozed off for a few minutes because if I had fallen asleep, I wouldn't have been in this chair anymore.

I swirled the cup still in my hand, half full of coffee. I moved the lukewarm liquid to my lips and drank it all. I hadn't slept all night. I thought as I got up.

As I left the coffee shop to get into my car, Wicks followed me. Whether I drove or walked around the twenty-four-hour store all night, aimlessly.

It was killing me. I didn't want him to let go. Even when I said it. I wanted to believe him and desperately trust that he did it for a good reason.

I knew him, I knew all of them for most of my life, and I was still afraid. Besides the magic, none of them acted differently, so why did I feel so distant from them?

What had I missed? How much did I hold them back? Am I a nuisance? Is Wicks forced to watch me? Is it better off if I leave? My mind wouldn't stop. Did he really erase my memory? Did he erase it more than what he said?

These questions bobbed around in my head, banging on its surface. I couldn't hold them. Maybe it was my lack of sleep.

I got into my car and started to drive again, heading to work. I stayed in the area, occasionally yawning at the wheel, and safely made it to the building.

I left my car, looking up at the big warehouse-sized pizzeria. I didn't even have my badge or uniform. I couldn't use the back door.

"LYNETTE!" The voice chirped with delight. Claudia. 

One of the oddities. I thought to myself. It hurt to lift my lips, "afternoon."

Her eyebrows raised, "wow, you don't look so good. What happened?"

I didn't know how to respond. I bounced from her light blueberry hue to her dark brown one.

"I can't sleep in my apartment right now. Issues going on, so I stayed up all night."

My heart trembled with each word. He's my brother, but I can't look at him.

Claudia and I walked together. I didn't even realize my feet moved.

"That explains why you don't have your uniform," Claudia replied. "Tristan's here today. He will gladly give you another one. I have to get a new one every other month!"

She scanned her badge at the doors and opened it enough for me to slip under her arm. I did and went through the hall that carried the countless bombardment of pizza-smelling goodness.

"He would?" I asked. I told Wicks I would quit...if I can't go back to the apartment...where will I stay? I need to keep making money. 

"Ah, wait, what are you going to do about your sleep issues tonight?"

I shrugged, "stay up."

"That's bad for humans, isn't it? Don't you need a lot of sleep?" Claudia asked, marching with long strides next to me.

I smirked. I can't fall asleep in my car or a hotel; if I sleep walk, I might get hurt. "I don't know how long I'll be out of my apartment, so I'll stay up for now."

We got closer to the time clock. Drake and Alexander at their usual "stations."

Drake had his bangs over his eyes and Alexander a dissatisfied look.

"You're game day, what are we..." Alexander squinted, "You look half asleep," he gestured at my body, "and why aren't you in your uniform."

I feel terrible. I thought. "I'm fine..." I looked down at the outfit Charletta picked for me. Black jeans, and comfy, fuzzy, white long-sleeve, then sighed, "I should get a uniform."

Drake pushed from the wall next to the time clock, "are you okay?"

You can hear my heart, can't you? Don't worry. I nodded, "I'm peachy, just a little bummed our apartment flooded." I lied.

Drake's lips parted to speak again.

"Lynette said she didn't sleep at all last night!" Claudia said.

I should really be careful with what I tell her. She seems so- innocent. 

"Could you and your brother not afford a hotel?" Alexander asked.

I kept my heart quiet, my mind the softest I could get it. "He's out."

Drake tapped his chest, "if you need a place to stay or both of you, you know you can stay with us."

I stared back. Even though I trusted Drake more than anyone else here. I can't. Wicks knows where you live, doesn't he? I can't bear to see him. 

"Thank you, Drake, but that's okay," I replied.

"OH! You can stay at my house if you don't want to stay at Drake's! I got plenty of room in my new one!" Claudia cheered.

I stopped mid-step down the hall toward the infirmary. "I'll keep it in mind."

They continued to talk after I went down the hall. I knocked at the door politely.

I heard the squeak of a chair, then a few light footsteps by the door.

I backed up when it opened. Ahead of me was the male with black hair and glasses, similar to June.

"Hey, Tristan," I said softly.

He looked me up and down, "Is everything alright?"

He allowed me inside.

I stepped in. Its beds were neatly made, desks far off into the corner with an array of a cabinet of odd potions and one that was filled with uniforms. The door lay behind Tristan, and in his desk drawer would be the resignation form, which Sandra offered me every time I arrived in their office.

Tristan never did. He assumed I'd continue. I shut my eyes, and I heard his voice again.

"I heard Edgar's son, Ulysses, married your sister."

My body jumped like it was unheard-of news. "Yeah, what are the odds."

There wasn't much silence; he stepped around me."Did any of them hurt you?"

It had been a week since I had been here. "No."

Tristan stood in front of me. Our eyes met, and he spoke flatly, "Did you want a uniform or a resignation form?"

What did I want? I lowered my head. If I resigned, that's it. I'll be done. Those two months wouldn't have mattered. I wouldn't have to deal with any of them anymore.

I thought back to Wicks and my family. They're not tyrants. They haven't...I love them. My eyes hyper-focused on the floor below. Each tile, each line. I can't keep failing and giving up. Especially now...if I lose it all.

"A uniform...please."

...

Drake

Drake rolled out the dough. What happened? Why was she lying? He asked himself. She's never lied before, at least not like that. 

Every motion of making a pizza was second nature to him unless someone had a complicated order. He took over the brunt of the work alongside Tristan. 

And I still don't understand enough about her family. What did Pete's mean? 

He put the pizza in the oven.

"I can handle the rest while you're on lunch," Tristan said. 

Ordinarily, his dad would be here too. He missed today and refused to give Drake a proper reason. He asked Wenna, and she didn't know either. He couldn't ask his mom; she was too busy, and he felt he'd get more of a lecture than anything useful. 

"Thanks." 

He flinched at the contact Tristan provided, a soft tap to his shoulder, "Welcome."

His lips skittishly rose with a smile.

Tristan and June were quiet, a soundless body that made Drake's head jump onto a different train. He never understood what they might think or feel, whether what they said was honest. He assumed they meant well. Their gestures mimicked sympathy, understanding, and, sometimes, what they felt. 

He moved out of the kitchen. He saw Lynette move through already. And Alexander, a few minutes after that. Focus on the game. Though he had no idea what she'd have them play. In Drake's eyes, he didn't expect her to stay up during any game. She'd want to rest. 

I can imagine what Alexander might tell her. Drake shook his head. Then, as he got closer to the time clock next to break room one, he realized his tongue traced his fangs in expectation. 

I'm stronger than that. He reminded himself. Something he refused to admit after he scanned out. He pressed his badge to the door, and it flew open. Though his nose wasn't as keen as Alexander, her smell bothered him too. 

 Drake walked into the breakroom, his ruby hue transfixed on the giant holding Lynette.

...

Alexander

*A few minutes prior.*

Each inhale invited her overpowering scent. 

He had to smell it for the week and struggled to keep himself together. He would win the game today. He wanted to. He NEEDED to. Yet, as he entered good old breakroom one, he found Lynette with her head on the table. She slept.

This happened on break too. Alexander refused to get close to her during their break. He knew he'd have a hard time controlling himself. After all, this is where he could have her.

His body moved closer on its own. Why the hell did she think it was safe to fall asleep here? He asked in his head.

For some reason, she didn't sleep all night, they have money.

His thoughts turned. She always looked so small, with her head down and pressed into the table even more so. 

His hand reached out, and her body jolted. He thought she had woken up, she didn't. He remembered how annoyed he was that she didn't mention her sleepwalking habit at the festival. 

He put his hand on her shoulder and shook it. 

"Hey, get up, shrimp. You have a game." He said.

He only heard a small grunt, not much of a response. He took a deep breath, and her chair SKREED when he pulled it out. Alexander moved in front of her, then when her body slumped forward, he pressed both of his hands on her upper arms. He pinned her to the chair.

Lynette grunted more, her eyelids slightly fluttering before they rested again. He wanted to get her attention by yelling-yet...

The wetness in his mouth and the cramps of his empty stomach clouded any ounce of judgment he had left. He'd win anyway. What was the point of waking her.

His body shifted as it always did, giving off a light glow of blue from his usual gray hue. 

He lifted her up with him.

"Alexander, we hadn't done the bet," he heard Drake come in. 

He didn't care.

He quickly consumed her head up to her shoulders. 

The tense rewarding jitter surged through him. He didn't stop even after she woke up. Lynette didn't stay awake long. Her struggles subsided once he swallowed more than half her body. 

She was too drained and his body's own excitement, took her energy faster.

He stumbled back on to the floor after, disregarding his uniform, hat, or hair. His knees were up, feet planted like he was going to get up, and his stomach was clutched between his hands. 

He closed his eyes to relish the feeling and incredible taste.

It had been too long. 

"You're scary."

He had a simple grin and didn't respond. He expected Drake was referring to the speed at which he devoured her. 

"You didn't even let her explain her game."

Alexander didn't remove his hand but waved his other as he spoke. His eyes were still closed. "I tried to wake her."

"Did you?"

"Shut-" He gave a smooth exhale, "up." He let out another. The floor was hard and cold on his back. "She didn't respond the first time...that's not on me."

...

Lynette

Tristan told me I slept longer than normal after being released.

The tiredness stayed.

I took each step slowly until I made it to the time clock. I swiped my badge, contemplating what I should do next. Should I walk around the store again? I can't drive efficiently. Imagine. That's how I end.

"Did you think over my offer?" Claudia's sudden uppity tone scared me. My head turned to her, and she walked to my right side. I saw the other two behind us.

The offer? You're house? Can I trust you? For some reason, when I watched over her eyes, they looked similar to mine. I blinked harder and smiled weakly. Wicks won't know where she lives. I want to assume he's still around. I hope he didn't stay here all day. 

"Don't be stupid," Alexander commented.

I stopped and glared up at him. He glared at me too.

I'm always full of dumb ideas. Drake and Claudia looked between us.

I hadn't forgotten that thank you, but it doesn't change anything... Our eyes had never met for this long. Either he looked away or me. You still have those scary swirling storms of hunger.

His figure loomed over me and overwhelmed every bit of my sight. My nerves gave out and forced my head to look away.

I spoke to Claudia in defiance, "I'll stay the night at your house."

"Lynette, you shouldn't really-" Drake tried to warn me.

Claudia's face lost its confusion and intercepted Drake's response, "YES!" She twirled in place and got my wrist, "Let's go then! I gotta show you everything."

She dragged me down the ramp toward her car. I heard Alexander's low growl. It constantly reverberated with a fraction of his voice and something else. "You shouldn't stay with that little demon!"

I ignored their warnings. I'm sorry, Drake. "HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, GUYS!" I said the loudest I could.

I peered down at her hand and then back up. And for a second, I swore I thought Wicks held it. But no...it was Claudia.

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[eusuntgratie]

🔀 tanger and flower

i'm sorry for the SIGNIFICANT delay, nonnie! also, vero inserted herself; i hope that's okay.

Girl Talk popping up in my spotify in the year of our lord 2023? alright.

read on ao3 | send me a 🔀 & a ship and i'll shuffle a playlist and write you a little somethin'

Marc-André’s pleasantly drunk, still floating from the cup win as much as the cocktail of champagne and beer and god knows what else he’s consumed since that last save. He still can’t believe it. He can see every play, every save, every shot, play behind his eyes every time he closes them. Can still feel the cup in his hands. It feels like it must’ve happened to someone else.

He’d left Vero chatting with Sid a while ago to go take a piss and then gotten derailed on the way back, getting pulled into a few conversations, a few hugs, and somehow ending up with a half-full bottle of lukewarm champagne in his hand. He’s feeling great.

He can’t find Vero where he left her in the kitchen, so he goes outside to search by the pool. Maybe Sid finally got her in there; he’d been teasing her earlier about it. He hears her laugh before he see her, and his eyes snap to her face. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She’s sprawled in Tanger’s lap, her head thrown back, long brown hair hanging behind her, eyes squeezed shut tight, and her gorgeous mouth split in a huge smile as her laugh echoes across the pool deck.

Tanger’s undoutedly as drunk as he is, but he’s a hand wrapped protectively around her back ensuring she doesn’t tip too far backwards as she laughs. The other is gripping her thigh, the one closest to him. He gets stuck on his way over to them watching the way Kris’s fingers dig into the denim of her jeans to keep her still. Everything’s moving in slow motion when she picks her head up and beams at Kris, catching his terribly bearded cheek in her delicate hand and pulling him close to kiss his cheek.

They look at each other for a beat, and suddenly Marc-André is moving again. If he wasn’t quite so drunk, or quite so desperate to have Vero’s hands on him, or Tanger’s, he would stay where he was and watch them awhile longer. He’s always loved watching beautiful people. But it’s late and he’s drunk and he’s got no idea when enough endorphins will wear off and leave him exhausted, so he crosses the pool deck quickly and stands by Kris’s feet.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute,” he says teasingly to Vero.

She gives him a sly smile. “Why, darling? Because I’ll end up in a beautiful man’s lap?” she responds in soft, teasing French.

Tanger kisses her cheek and murmurs something he doesn’t quite catch in her ear. His fingers tighten on her thigh.

“Can’t let you have all the fun without me,” he answers.

Tanger looks up at him then. “You’re right. I think you deserve to celebrate.”

Vero watches them both before smiling at him. “Shall I leave you to it then?”

“No, my love,” he answers immediately. “I think maybe we should celebrate together.”

Kris’s eyes darken and Vero bites her lip, and Marc-André’ knows that whatever happens tonight, he’ll never forget it.