#his brothers need to ask him for fashion tips

[cryingatships]

Going into La Pluie ep 11 looking forward to one, and only thing. Saengnuea's glasses

Let's see how this ep stabs a knife into my heart and twists it a full 360

[hongthoven]

one-shot 𖹭 3k w

pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

tags 𖹭 fluff, smut, established relationship, idol!hongjoong, family trip, you know he'll be having you in that hot tub at some point

✏️ okay so this wasn't planned but Bumjoong's vlog got me spiraling into some ⊹ ࣪ ˖ thoughts ⊹ ࣪ ˖ and I couldn't stop thinking about joining Hongjoong on that family trip -- and may I add, that hotspring? You know I had to.

pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭

© hongthoven

When Hongjoong had asked you to join him and his family on a trip to Sapporo, your first instinct was to panic— This would be your first time meeting his parents and only your second encounter with Bumjoong ever since your boyfriend’s last tour. Back then, even the idea of having lunch with Hongjoong and his older brother was already nerve-wrecking enough. Lucky for you, Bumjoong was the most welcoming human and had worked extra hard to make you feel comfortable by sharing some precious childhood memories including his younger brother pulling a tantrum over an ice-cream and how he would always crash his football games with his friends when he wasn’t much bigger than the ball itself. 

Now this was different. Meeting his parents, spending days with his whole circle and living under the same roof seemed like a commitment your anxiety couldn’t seem to handle peacefully. Of course you were more than happy and flattered he would even consider bringing you along with him— any signs of this man committing to you more than enough to have you kicking your feet and screaming into a void. Hongjoong was a busy man and dating Ateez’s captain wasn’t always easy when it came to matching your schedules so you could spend quality time together. When he wasn’t spending the night at his studio, your man was either busy promoting his music, writing for other artists, working on his next photography exhibition or flying to Paris’ Fashion Week. 

Still— every single one of his accomplishments felt like yours and Hongjoong always made sure to include you in every single step towards another successful experience. So when your lovely boyfriend had kindly suggested for you to take a couple days off from work so you could fly to Japan with his family, there wasn’t much left for you but to agree as Hongjoong did his best to reassure you when you immediately told him about your worries: his parents not liking you, embarrassing yourself, crashing their family time when you weren't even part of it— to which Hongjoong was quick to reply with the most unexpected piece of informations, sending you spiraling into thoughts of a future you were too afraid to dream about.

“Y/N— you’re part of my family already…” That was the validation you needed from him. The thought of him talking about you with his parents, letting them know about meaningful details of your relationship, made your heart grow twice its size. And while you were still nervous to meet them, you knew nothing could possibly go wrong when Hongjoong was by your side. 

By the end of your first day, you already felt like part of the family. After hours spent walking in the snow, taking pictures, gazing at the gorgeous landscape and tasting some local delicacies, you were practically tight by the hip with Hongjoong’s mother as you walked back to the beautiful accommodation your boyfriend had rented for the entire family. 

“My mom is kind of obsessed with you” Hongjoong growled as you finally caught some time to yourselves, spread out over the bed with your boyfriend resting on top of you, the coldness of his palms sending shivers all over your stomach as he slipped his hands under your sweater with a content sigh. “I’m a bit jealous actually— she’s keeping you all to herself” he almost whined, his lips reaching for your neck, forcing a soft giggle out of your lips “can’t even hold my girl’s hand or anything— such a thief” he added, biting your skin while the tip of his tongue collected your scent, reaching for your earlobe.

“Joongie— your family’s right next door” you huffed, trying to wiggle out of his embrace as he looked up to lock his beautiful yet sleepy eyes with yours. It had been a long day, following a long week of a packed schedule and you could definitely tell he was a minute from passing out from intense fatigue— but he still looked breathtaking with his blonde streaks covering half of his face and his pink lips, tempting as candy, desperately reaching for yours, only to melt into the softest kiss as he eventually complied. Closing his eyes for a minute, Hongjoong made himself comfortable with his face buried into your neck and his hands still resting under your sweater, framing you with his entire body. 

It wasn’t long until you heard his breathing slowing down, its delicate sound mixing with some slight snoring from being completely burned out. Happy to see him resting at last, your hands found their way into his hair and at the back of his neck, kneading his skin tenderly as you watched the beautiful winter scenery getting darker by the end of the afternoon. 

A knock on the door made you flinch into your slumber and your first instinct was to look down and make sure Hongjoong was still fast asleep— when he failed to react, your eyes found Bumjoong standing in the doorway, trying to make himself as discreet as possible, his palm covering his eyes.

“Are you guys decent?” he asked with a nervous chuckle as you immediately cleared the scene with a soft tone, the sight of his passed out brother making the older one smile endearingly. 

“I think we’ll pass on dinner, can you excuse us to your parents? I think he needs this…” You whispered with one hand still locked into your boyfriend’s hair, scratching his scalp softly. Without a word, Bumjoong gave you an understanding nod as an answer and closed the door behind him, leaving you with nothing but the peaceful quietness of the bedroom as company. 

After a while, you figured Hongjoong was gone for the night and decided not to rot in bed any longer— your body was getting pins and needles from staying in the same position for hours, keeping your boyfriend locked into your embrace as he snored peacefully against your chest. Though you were slightly reluctant to let go of him, the warmth of his skin as a reminder of how long it had been since you two were in the same bed, you eventually managed to roll Hongjoong over to his side, stealing a muffled complaint out of him as he called out your name in his sleep, to which you replied with a tender kiss at the crook of his neck before rolling out of bed and escaping the bedroom as quietly as possible. 

The hotspring was practically calling your name as you walked into the private patio on the second floor, ready to dive into your book and enjoy some snacks while bathing in hot water— now this looked like a holiday. Everything around was quiet, peaceful if not for a couple of birds still chirping into the night. You were thankful for Hongjoong asking you to take a bathing suit although you were left a little puzzled at his odd request for a snowy weekend away— but you also couldn’t miss the little evil smirk on your boyfriend’s face when giving you a house tour, his hand palming the small of your back as he made sure to let you know just how much he expected to have you there, in this bath, as soon as his family would be gone. He would find an excuse, book a table at some fancy restaurant, pretend to have some work emergency and keep you around for support, only to bend you over the tiles and make you scream his name over and over again.

Unable to focus on your book as you kept reading the same page until it made some sort of sense, you tried to remember the last time you and Hongjoong were able to share that type of intimacy, your thighs instantly clenching at the sudden memory of his last concert in Saitama. You typically tried not to ever miss a concert whenever you could travel along but this tour you wouldn’t miss for anything— for months, you had seen Hongjoong practice his guitar skills, lessons after lessons, massaging his calloused fingers every time he took it too far — almost every day, so when it was time to witness your boyfriend in all his glory as he stood on stage ready to wreck an entire Dome, you were actually thankful to be seating alone, your entire body radiating with lust and  the absolute urge to kneel in front of him to swallow his junk entirely. 

Which you did, precisely 2 hours later, as soon as you were left alone with him backstage. Hongjoong had practically kicked the other members out without any effort to hide his intentions. You could actually hear Wooyoung snickering behind the door and making some crude comment to Mingi about how their captain was about to ‘get some’, which you both decided to ignore. Without any sort of ceremony, Hongjoong was quick to spit into your open mouth and guide himself between your lips, both his hands pushing at the back of your head until you could feel the familiar taste of precum spilling off his slit and into the back of your throat. You could never get enough of the way he seemed to melt against your tongue as you traced every single vein along his cock with just the tip like he was your favorite flavor. 

When it came to being vocal, Hongjoong knew how to drive you past the edge of insanity with little whimpers and the nastiest words wrapped into the delicacy of his voice, like the melted chocolate heart of your favorite cake. You would never get rid of the way he often crossed the line, way past his usual cute pet names, only to call you his ‘little slut’ as he rutted himself into your mouth, stealing air out of your lungs as his hands started to tremble into your untamed hair. 

The water was getting too hot, suddenly— the simple thought of Hongjoong slowly pushing your lips open with his tip making you foam at the mouth. Without realizing, your thighs had started to press against one another, rolling up and down slightly, just to give you enough friction for a quick relief. You could tell your entire body was now getting worked up over your fantasies, your back arching naturally as you eventually pushed your book to the side, suddenly uninterested in any sort of Literature. Wrapped into a cloud of steam, your body was craving a touch— yours, but mostly Hongjoong’s, and as you slowly slid your hand along your chest, brushing your erected nipple on your way down, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous at the thought of being caught. What would your in-laws think? What would Hongjoong say if he heard about his parents walking on his girlfriend touching herself in the hot tub? 

All these thoughts were quickly gone as soon as your hand found its nest between your thighs, three of your fingers pressed against your core as a soft moan escaped your lips, echoing into the empty patio. Or so you thought. 

“Baby?” Though you immediately recognized Hongjoong’s voice, you were quick to stiffen back into the corner of the tub, red at the cheeks as you turned around to face your boyfriend’s mixed expression. He was definitely confused— but also quite obviously aroused. Not to mention half naked now that his sweater was gone, leaving him in a pair of sweatpants, his hair now a chaotic blond mess from sleeping for too long and his bare chest already coated with steam from the temperature of the room. He looked like an absolute snack you couldn’t wait to devour. 

“You should have woken me up if you needed it so bad?” Hongjoong smirked, peeling himself off his sweatpants only to leave you gasping at the sight of his exposed, already semi-erected cock for a second before he dived into the bath. 

“You looked like you needed some good sleep” you half-pouted as soon as he pulled you against him, forcing you to sit on his lap with one leg on each side of his frame. 

“I need you more” without any sort of warning, Hongjoong reached for your throat, wrapping all five of his fingers around it as his lips found yours, tongue teasing until you caved and deepened the kiss, soft moans dying into his mouth as you started to grind over his lap while his stiffening member threatened to push your bikini bottom to the side with each thrust from your aching hips. 

“Fuck— I’ve missed you so much baby— fucking insane—” his words were coming out a little sharpier, halfway between a confession and a command while his lips traveled down to your neck, sucking a soft, pink bite out of your skin with one hand already pulling at your bikini top. You couldn’t help but feel extremely exposed as one of your tit disappeared into Hongjoong’s palm, the other already settled between his lips as he sucked desperately at your flesh like a starving newborn.

“You gonna let me fuck you here?” he asked, his tone the opposite of innocent as you clenched over nothing, pushing your core against his groin until you couldn’t take it anymore. Nothing else mattered now. The glass windows surrounded you, making you both vulnerable and exposed— the idea of his family coming home any minute, only to find you there with their youngest son balls deep into your cunt. All you could think about was to be filled and to reach climax as soon as possible. It had been weeks since you had last felt Hongjoong’s body so close to yours and a treat was overdue. 

“Please” you almost weeped, using your fingers as a hook to push your bikini to the side until you felt his tip pushing against your entrance, thicker than ever. 

“Oh you’re gonna beg, love?” you couldn’t say a thing— not a word— as you nodded almost hysterically, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth like a misbehaving child ready to be grounded. Though his words were tempting and his gaze wrapped into that cocky frown you knew too well, Hongjoong’s hands were nothing but tender over your skin, his love pouring out of him in the shape of his palms stroking your arms, shoulders and the back of your neck like you were nothing but glass, about to shatter against his chest. 

“You’re so fucking pretty— can’t believe you’re mine” his words took you by surprise, his thumb brushing your bottom lip while you felt him aligning himself perfectly against your aching core. His eyes were locked on the way your mouth instantly wrapped around his digit, sucking at the tip like the ghost of that part of him you were now craving. 

“Go ahead and beg” he added, more demanding this time, your body going limp against him as you struggled to even breathe from the absolute urge to be consumed entirely by the love of your life. 

“Hongjoong— please?” you finally begged, lips turned into a pout while your hand reached for his cock, ready to wrap around it. You had never felt emptier. 

“What do you think you’re doing, love?” Hongjoong smirked, his own hand wrapping around yours but never truly stopping you.

“Need you” you were a blurbing mess by now, lids heavy and hips almost jolting against him as you felt him stretching you out a little with his tip only, both your hands still tightly wrapped around his shaft. You could feel every inch of him— into your palm, pushing against your walls, everywhere, always amazed at the way his cock seemed to be exclusively crafted for your cunt. 

Once he was settled, balls deep into you, Hongjoong reached for the small of your back, pulling you closer to his chest as you instinctively rolled your hips against him, collecting the sweetest sound out of his throat as your boyfriend tilted his head back, hitting the tile with his wet hair while thrusting painfully slow into you. The room was filled with soft, muffled moans and the sound of water splashing over the rim, soaking the floor with each, deeper thrust. Everything felt and sounded like absolute bliss— the roughness of his chest against your palms, the way his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass cheeks everytime he pulled you harder, bottoming out only to rocket his hips back into you— nothing could beat this feeling, this fullness, the sincere love you could see in his eyes as his lips turned into an ‘o’ every time your eyes met. 

Reaching for your neck, Hongjoong pulled you closer to melt his lips into yours, his kiss more eager this time as his tongue battled with yours while his hand kept you still with a soft grip around your throat. Lost into his embrace, it took you a minute to realize he was now completely still inside of you. 

“Could stay like this forever” he smiled, his palm cupping water on the surface only to pour it over your chest, his eyes following every drop as it raced over your breast like the most beautiful piece of Art. While still tightly clenched between your folds, the way he gazed at you, his fingers tracing some invisible forms over your chest, was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced with anyone. Something in his eyes made you feel safe and vulnerable at the same time, like you were precisely where you belonged. 

It only took a few more thrusts for you to bite a moan into his shoulder, your entire body stiffening with bliss as Hongjoong chased you to the top, his entire face buried into your chest as he lifted himself just enough to rocket back into you harder until his cries echoed into the quietness of the night while your walls locked around his load, turning him into absolute shambles as Hongjoong started to shake slightly into your arms from a hint of overstimulation. 

Red at the cheeks, blonde streaks pushed back, Hongjoong tried to compose himself, his breathing gone to absolute chaos as he kept his arms locked around your figure, unwilling to let go just yet. 

“Think I’m gonna marry you” he blurted out, his forehead pressed to yours— leaving you once again, completely speechless. 

[shinsmarlboro]

Manjiro with a lover, who is a successful entrepreneur.

TAGS: SFW && gender neutral y/n.

manjiro loves staying in your office while you're working away on your laptop.

if you need help with advertising a product you are selling but you don't have enough funds for that, you best believe that manjiro got your back. he'd advertise your product legally and illegally he doesn't care, as long as you make profit.

he loves spending on you. he doesn't think of money as something significant, it's just something that comes along as he is a part of the yakuza. spending on you is his way of making use of it, otherwise he would barely take much out of his bank account.

he dislikes it when you don't pay much attention to him while working, but he won't immediately ask for your attention until he's sure you won't use the excuse of working to get him to behave.

“you've been working for 6 hours, babe.” he would whine and sit on your desk, tipping your laptop cover even lower so you pay attention to him.

“you kept track of my working hours?”

“mm, you could say that.” he would then move your laptop aside so he could wrap his arms around you while sitting on your lap.

your office is like his hangout spot where he falls asleep to the sounds of your fingers against the keyboard or where he sprawls onto the couch to read magazines, or sometimes he just lovingly stares at you with his hand against his cheek. you are more than certain that he has no idea how piercing his gaze is and how it makes you fidget in your seat.

izana tends to drop by here and there to drag manjiro away from you. he isn't too fond of you for ‘stealing manjiro away from him’ and often vies for his younger brother's attention and skills.

he thinks it's ideal that both of you are night owls, with him being an insomniac and you always making sure to burn the midnight oil. late work nights with you always seem more intimate for you two, even with unspoken words.

manjiro would invite you as a plus-one to events with izana where networking is inevitably bound to happen to expand your business and brand. he would ensure that you are dressed in the finest attire to make the best first impression. it is also an excuse for him to watch you prance around in different dresses as you ask him for your opinion.

“you look so hot.” he'd gush for the umpteenth time, not caring about the exasperation on your face.

“you're not helping.”

“can i help it if you look good in everything, baby?”

he'd notice your dissatisfaction and offer to buy all the dresses you had put on and forcefully get his brother to choose for you.

“sorry y/n, izana-nii’s better with all this fashion stuff.”

he follows you on business trips whenever he has the time, and extends them for 2 more days.

“manjiro fucking sano. let go of me, i…we have a flight back to tokyo.”

“oh no we don't. we're staying for two more days, baby! don't worry i’ve got it covered, let's go to the beach in miami. i wanna tan my skin like those blonde foreigners.”

don't even bother complaining or arguing with him because he will totally ignore you, take your suitcase from your hand and put it somewhere in the hotel room before pulling you to bed.

.

.

BONUS; BONTEN MIKEY HCS.

he finds it convenient when you work late hours at night and you are not there to witness his mental breakdowns. he isn't fully comfortable with being vulnerable with you. he thinks he's doing you a favour by shielding you from that weak side of himself.

however, he despises when you pay little attention to him when he comes over to visit (which is rare as he is the face and leader of the most powerful crime syndicate in japan) and it seems like you prefer your laptop over him but would act clingy only when you two are alone. he won't say anything, won't bother you but his body language would let you know that he wants attention.

you would hold his hand and type away with the other one (even if it is a bit inconvenient, there isn't anything you wouldn't do for your babyboy).

he loves it when you look put-together and modest in your suit or your long pencil skirt with your hair tied back in a bun or a slick-back. no matter how feminine or masculine you appear, he looks at you with a tender expression hidden under his brooding visage.

manjiro would hook you up with people that would have your business skyrocketing. you converse with them about market potential, growth strategies and all that jazz, while mikey watches you like a hawk or gets sanzu to do that if he has to leave the venue for whatever reason.

[sadesluvr]

The Bride — PART ONE.

A routine assassination for turns into a domestic drama when the Twins meet you, a housewife looking to seek revenge on her cheating husband. 

A/N: It's been a while, but here's a new Tangerine fic! It's planned to be 3 parts, and is a slow burn. The title is a reference to Uma Thurman's character in Kill Bill, and the fic has the same vibes. Read the tags, and I hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 1.9K

Tags:  Dysfunctional + abusive relationships (non-physical) / ONE instance of abuse / Eventual romance / Canon-typical violence + language / Reader and The Twins are sociopaths / Dark humour / Murder + revenge / Allusions to mental illness / Jealousy / Eventual smut / Women's wrongs / Friendship

The mission had been poised as one of The Twins’ easiest. There were no guns, no swords, no car chases - just a bit of deception and a drink laced with arsenic handed to some socialite in a golden chalice. Lemon, posing as a bartender, had made the drink, and Tangerine was tasked with delivering it as part of room service. An easy death paired with a quick getaway meant even easier money, which, in their specific case, was to the tune of $10K split between them. 

The Hotel Saratoga was one of the most gorgeous in Havana. It was small, but glamorous, boasting an airy lobby with high cieilings; accented with rich whites, brown furniture and blues and greens, and sky-high views of the surrounding city. As assassins, they’d travelled extensively across the globe, and even though the job sometimes felt oddly glamorous, it was always a haven to be in a place with fresh linens and a working shower. Interacting with some of the biggest scum of the earth, it was far too often they weren’t afforded such a luxury. 

“Mate, I’m gonna need you to be quick with that, yeah?” Lemon whispered, a strained look in his eye as he handed the drink to his brother. “People keep asking me for weird stuff, like an ‘Old Fashioned’ or a ‘Cosmopolitan’…I’ve just be lying ‘n saying that we’re out, but I’m gettin’ through this bottle real quick.” He finished, shaking a half-empty bottle of champagne in the man’s face.  

Tangerine deadpanned, rubbing his chin before looking around cautiously. 

“I’ll deal with it, alright? Just clock off or somethin’ - pass it to the geezer over there.” He said, nodding at an elderly, somewhat ditzy looking gentleman and placing the glass onto a tray. Given Lemon’s affinity for children’s shows and aversion to alcohol, he probably should’ve taken the bartending role, but selfishly wanted to roam the halls of a hotel such as this. They reminded him of all the classic novels he’d read. 

“I can’t,” Lemon said sincerely, and the man furrowed his brows in disbelief. There’s an old woman here…I think she’s taken a fancy for me. Can’t disappoint her, she promised me a tip…” 

There was a silence as the two men stared at each-other, with Lemon’s face wholly genuine and Tangerine’s in utter shock, as if the man were a complete loon. 

“Yeah, well, call me when you’re done, innit?” He said cooly, fixing himself before picking up the tray. “And don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do.” He chided. 

“That’s not exactly saying a lot…” 

“Don’t piss me off, Lemon,” he sighed, giving his brother a once over. “I’d rather not act like a madman in a place like this.” 

“We’re assassins, mate. It’s a bit too late for that.” 

Tangerine rolled his eyes, tutting as he left the bar in the direction of the stairs, skilfully navigating himself through the long, seemingly endless corridors, trying desperately not to trip on the patterned antique carpets that lined the floors.  

The ever-changing lights of the building illuminated his face as he strode in search of room 237; bright white, to soft orange to wine red, streaking in the background as if he were going through a tunnel. Considering the nature of his work, it was likely a tunnel to hell. 

The room was second to the end on the top floor. Placing the tray on a small hallway table, he knocked twice, calling out to the individual inside the building. The briefing hadn’t told them much, only that the target was a female, aged 28 but could pass between 26 and 30. Sure enough, someone who fit the description answered. 

Tangerine gave you a once over. You seemed to be a perfect fit; dressed in an elegant white sundress, with shiny jewellery dangling off your ears, wrist and neck. Barefooted, he watched as your feet wriggled, perhaps uncomfortable with the fact that a strange man was at your door bearing a single drink.  

Objectively, you were attractive. But that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t responsible for caring about you alive, and certainly not when you were dead. He was simply here to do his job, collect his money, and leave. 

“I didn’t order room service…” you spoke, your voice soft as you cocked your head. 

“It was on the house,” he quickly replied. “Some geezer at the bar was handin’ them out. Thought you were a right looker or somethin’…” 

“How did he know where I was staying?” 

“Slid the receptionist some pesos.” 

You didn’t respond, merely humming as he watched you try to figure him out, eventually stepping to the side to let him in. He followed you in with a small nod, giving the room a quick once over as he did.  

Bed, adjoining bathroom, a small kitchen and a balcony...no signs of any intruders. As he looked more carefully, he took note of the items on the various surfaces; half opened make up - the usual - alongside some questionable items, like pair of rubber kitchen gloves and a wad of cash, sticking out from an envelope. 

The whole ordeal was somewhat unnerving, even to a man like Tangerine, simply because you didn’t speak; instead watched him like a hawk from the corner of the room, wringing your hands together as your eyes roamed his body. Unlike what he was used to, it certainly wasn’t lustful; no, yours were impenetrable, wide and somewhat glossy, almost as if you knew you were about to die. 

Cutting the tension, he cleared his throat before he spoke.  

“Enjoy your evening, darlin’.” He said before turning to leave, stopping in his tracks as you called out to him. 

“Wait --” you said, rushing over to pick up the glass and downing it in the sink before handing it back to him pointedly. “Take this with you!” 

The man winced at the sound of liquid seeping down the drain – 250mg of arsenic nonetheless – but kept his composure, shaking his head at you in disbelief. 

“Fucking ungrateful twat, you are,” he snarled. “Some geezer spends money on you, and this is how you repay him? It’s a shocker ‘yer married.” He finished, gesturing his head towards your left ring finger where a diamond wedding band sat. As if the curtain had been lifted, you rolled your eyes and shovelled the glass into his arms, excess liquid spilling onto his suit. 

“I could have you fired and on the streets in no time,” you spat. “Luckily for you, I know you don’t actually work here.” 

Tangerine scoffed, pacing in a small circle before he placed his hands on his hips, ready to sweep out his gun from the holster attached to his waist. Somehow, you knew something was up, and it was clear that as the poisoning plan had been compromised, he was left with two options – a gunshot to the head, or strangulation. 

“If you think I’d fucking waste my time goin’ around and serving drinks to brats like you for fun, you must be daft --” 

“I’ll have you know I stay here three times a year,” you interjected. “I’ve been sleeping with the conciergerie for two years...I would’ve recognised such a face...” you said, fearless as you walked up to him, arms folded across your chest with a snarl wiped across your coloured lips.  

“Who you spread your legs for is not my business, sweetheart,” Tangerine said, voice gravelly as he rolled his eyes, whipping his gun out in the process, the barrel aimed right between your eyes. “Why did ‘yer have to make things so hard?” 

“...I guess my husband didn’t know that then, huh?” you chuckled. “Sorry to ruin your little plan. How much did he offer you?” 

Tangerine paused, gnawing down on the insides of his mouth as he pursed his lips. This just happened to be the type of situation every assassin feared; which was why the general code was to always get in and out as soon as possible. He wasn’t always the best at thinking straight when it came to the thrill of a kill, which was why he ended up lowering the gun, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process.  

It wasn’t all over - he still had the upper hand and could shoot you if he wanted – but that could compromise the mission entirely. The client – your husband, apparently – had requested that it was to be as clean as possible, with your death to look like a bad case of food poisoning rather than a home invasion. 

The man paced again. 

“Alright,” he sniffed. “Humour me, then. How’d you know I was here to off ya?” 

You sucked in your cheeks and shrugged. 

“Let’s just say this isn’t my first time,” you began, walking over the kitchen table as you lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “He’s a conniving son of a bitch, you know? I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since I said, ‘I do’.” 

Tangerine shook his head in disbelief. “I ain’t got the foggiest idea what you’re on about love, and if you don’t start talking soon, you’re really gonna piss me off.” 

You huffed, and he watched you drop your cig into an ashtray, putting on the rubber gloves and slamming a wad of cash in-front of him. 

“How much did he offer?” 

“Ten grand,” he replied, hesitantly walking over to you. “Split between me and my brother.” 

“Fucking bastard, am I only worth 5K?” you scoffed, bringing the stick back to your lips and puffing it frustratedly, your narcissism earning an eye roll from the man himself. “Where’s your brother?” 

“Don’t worry,” Tangerine said protectively. He wasn’t about to bring Lemon into a situation that he wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t compromised. Something about you was twisted, devilish, and certainly endearing hiding under a layer of pretty summer dresses, jewellery and a soft voice that could change at an instant. “What’re you saying?” 

“I can double his offer. Ten grand each if you kill him for me...but I need to have a say in what goes.” 

He glanced down at the stack of money before him. Ten grand was a far more enticing offer, but he knew better than to make a deal with the devil – in this case someone he’d just met. How could he be so sure you’d deliver your promise, only to turn him in at the last minute? Even worse, what if you were some kind of spy trying to see how far men like him would go?  

The risks seemed to outweigh the benefits, but he wouldn't completely write you off without talking to Lemon first – for as annoying as his Thomas talk could be, he was undeniably one of the best at reading people. 

Rasping his knuckles on the table, he squared his shoulders. 

“— Alright. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but clearly there’s some trouble in paradise, and I ain’t sure if I want a part of it, quite frankly. I’m gonna make a call, and when my brother gets here you’re gonna tell us everything you know, got it?” 

You nodded. 

“On mute, are we?” he spat. “This ain’t a bloody game. If we think – or find – that you’re lying, we won’t hesitate to whack you and ‘yer measly little husband, okay?” 

“I understand.” You nodded; eyes wide as you dabbed at the cigarette with your fingertips. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before Tangerine walked away, placing his gun back in the holster before taking out his phone. 

“Right, Lemon...There’s been a bit of a change of plan. I’m gonna need you to come up here, like right the fuck now. There’s a new offer on the table.” 

PART TWO

Comment if you’d like to be tagged in future parts! 🫶🏽

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 3 (18+)

a/n: thank you to all who liked, commented and reblogged. glad to have you on this ride with me.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter two here ]

Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs and Birthdays

The house becomes hectic when everyone is back home. With twelve people living here, it’s a house full of extremely different personalities and, honestly, a little overwhelming. You start to wonder how stable things will remain throughout the year. Do the guys ever fight amongst themselves? Do the girls? You’re not very confrontational, so you’ll have to hold on to hope that any disagreements can be resolved quickly. 

After dinner you have a chance to interact with Jeongin in the basement. The two of you are standing next to the bar as Lee Know and Changbin challenge each other in a game of pool. Jeongin is all smiles and dimples as he talks to you about his minor in fashion design and his plan to launch a chic streetwear clothing line after graduating. You can’t think of any other way to describe him besides adorable and pure (Han will later assure you that thought wears off over time).

“If you ever need tips, I’m the one to talk to,” he tells you. 

“I may have to take you up on that because this,” you gesture to the plain jeans and shirt you’re wearing, “is where I tend to stay.”

He steps closer to you, his hands reaching for the bottom of your shirt. 

“May I?” He asks. 

You shrug and nod.

He gathers the fabric from the back and folds it upwards, then uses the excess material in front to twist into a spiral. He wraps the end around the ball that has formed and pushes the end piece through the center. He turns you around to face the mirror against the opposite wall and you nod your approval.

“It accentuates here,” he (very professionally) gestures towards your breast while standing behind you, then moves his hands lower to your waist, “and here without you having to do much.”

“Do mine next, Innie,” you hear Changbin say from the pool table.

“It works best with bigger shirts, hyung, yours are too tight,” Jeongin retorts. 

Lee Know laughs as he calls 8 ball corner pocket and sinks it in. 

The smile on Changbin’s face drops as he tosses the pool cue on the table. He heads up the stairs without saying anything to anyone, causing the three of you to burst out into laughter. 

You all end up following after him to the main floor to see what the others are up to. 

Mostly everyone has dispersed to doing their own thing and you decide to turn in for the night. If you stay down here any longer, you may be tempted to accidentally fall asleep on the couch, if it means avoiding going up to Chan’s room. You imagine that might not play out so well as you head to the second floor to shower.  

You make a stop in Hyunjin’s room on your way to grab a few things you’ll need the next couple days while staying with Chan.

Hyunjin is seated at his desk, fiddling with a camera. 

“Hey,” you say as you enter. 

“Come to say goodbye to me?” He spins in his chair to face you and pouts. 

“Please don’t make this more awkward than it already feels,” you say with a serious look on your face. 

Seeing your expression, he drops the pout. 

“You okay?” 

“It just feels conflicting, spending last night with you, now going to Chan…” you trail off as you sit down on his bed. 

“It will for the first few weeks, I’m sure,” he tells you. “I wish I could tell you how to sort through it but I really don’t know what it’s like from your perspective.”

“What’s it like from yours?” You ask. 

“These guys are my brothers…we’ve been through so much and already share everything, so this isn’t a huge stretch for us believe it or not,” he shrugs. “Everything is transparent so there’s no room for jealousy, we follow the rules of the house and it all just works out.”

“But Chan seems…”

“He’s been that way the last week for some reason. I don’t know what it is but he’ll either get over it or open up to us about it eventually. He just likes to brood. He’s moody like that.”

You nod your head, taking some consolation that maybe it isn’t you that’s the problem after all, and get up from the bed to retrieve your belongings. Hyunjin stands to hug you on your way out and tells you goodnight, placing a kiss on your forehead. You revel in his embrace while you have it.

“You should show your figure more,” he says when you step back, looking at the shirt Jeongin has revamped for you. “It looks good.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a shy smile, covering your midriff with your arm as you slowly back out of the room. You wave one final time before turning around, wanting to retain the happiness you’re feeling right now as you’re so uncertain what awaits on the next floor up. 

Seungmin, Changbin and Han, who also stay on the third floor, warned you about how warm it gets up there. So after your shower, you decide on a pair of silk pajama shorts and top for the night. When you enter Chan’s room, it feels even warmer since he’s just had a shower, too.

He has one towel tied around his hips and is using another to dry his hair when he stops to look at you. His eyes travel from you head to toes, then back up again. He sits down on his bed and watches you as you put your things away. 

“How was your first day in the house?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Pretty good, actually.” You say turning to face him, trying to keep your gaze on his face and not his exposed chest. Even in his relaxed sitting position you can see the outlines of his abs. 

“You think you’ll be able to stick it out?”

You furrow your brow at his question. 

“Am I allowed to leave if I feel like I can’t?” You ask. 

“You didn’t read the contract?”

Your gaze falls to the floor. Fucking contracts will probably be the death of you.

“It was, like, 37 pages, Chan. I have enough to read with my class assignments,” you tell him. 

“Yes, you can leave,” he answers. “With a proper two week notice so we have time to find a replacement.”

“That disposable, huh?” You move the blankets back on your bed and sit down on it. 

“We don’t force anyone to be here,” he shrugs, leaning back on his hands. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You ask suddenly. 

“You’re already here,” he replies. “Might as well stay.”

Part of you wants to take what he says as him encouraging you to stick around, but the way he says it makes it feel like an afterthought. You also made the mistake of thinking he was being kind to you earlier today. 

“Results are in, by the way,” he announces with his phone in hand.

It takes you a moment to realize what he means—the test you took a few days ago. Your heartbeat quickens as you check your phone and find the email. It’s not the results that are making you nervous. It’s the feel of his eyes on you and what comes next. You stand from your bed and walk towards him, hand outstretched for him to see your results. He nods his approval and shows you his.

“Did you want to…” you trail off, unable to bring yourself to say the words. 

He slowly licks his lips as he looks up at you. You’re not sure if the uneasiness you’re feeling is nerves or some kind of tormented butterflies. It feels drastically different than when you were with Hyunjin, that much you’re sure of.

He takes your phone from you and tosses it behind him on the bed before holding his hand out. You tentatively place yours in his and he pulls you so you’re standing between his legs. His hands drop to the back of your knees and his fingertips begin to lightly caress their way up the back of your thighs.  

“You don’t?” He counters. 

“I—I—“ you stutter. 

His hands creep higher and higher until they’re just barely beneath the hem of the shorts. He stops his movements, grips you and pulls you even closer to him. You place your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling on him.

“It has to be consensual, y/n,” he tells you. “But I do want you first.”

Your eyes lock with his and for the first time you feel like he’s being transparent. Would it ease some of the tension you feel with him if you consent tonight? Hyunjin did mention some of the members view this as a sexual thing and others emotional. Maybe Chan just prefers the physical. 

“I’ve only ever been with one other person,” you say, looking down at the floor. 

“Then you’ll learn a lot here,” he says as his hands resume caressing you. 

Your hands move up towards his neck, fingers lightly stroking at the nape. Eyes still locked on his, you nod your consent. 

“Lesson one, then,” he says, spreading his legs a little further apart. “Get on your knees.”

Your eyebrows come together once again at his words. He doesn’t budge—doesn’t smile, no inference that he’s joking in the slightest. 

You slowly kneel on the floor in front of him. 

“Open my towel,” is his next command. 

You bring your hands to his lap to pull the two ends of the towel apart and cast them aside. He’s completely exposed but shows no sign of being embarrassed or insecure. Your eyes fall down to his cock—he has no reason to, you can see that. 

He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts your head up. His thumb lightly moves across your lips from left to right then slowly drags down the middle, pulling your bottom lip with it. 

He redirects his attention to your pajama top, undoing the buttons with ease one by one. When he moves the silky fabric to the side, you let out a shaky breath as his eyes linger on your exposed breasts. He cups both of them in each hand, gliding his thumbs across your nipples until they harden.

It feels good, you can’t deny that. You have no control over your body’s response to his actions, but there’s some discrepancy between your body and the thoughts racing through your mind. He’s handsome, but are you attracted to him? Given the way he’s been treating you…what does it say about you if you are?

His hands fall from your chest, and you instantly feel cold without his touch. He reaches down for your hand and grabs it, placing it on his cock. You wrap your hand around it, feeling how warm and hard it is. He leans back on the bed, looking down at you. 

“Spit on it,” he tells you. 

You feel your pulse pick up at his words as you move your jaw and tongue to gather up moisture in your mouth. You adjust yourself over him to do as you’re told. He guides your hand once again, helping you move the saliva around and lather until his dick is slippery. 

“It’s not that fragile, you can squeeze a little harder, y/n.” His tone is soft as he looks at you with darkened eyes. 

You tighten your grip and begin moving your hand up and down slowly. He lays back flat on the bed as you continue to stroke him. You feel a little less pressure without him staring at you and focus on what’s in front of you. The hair surrounding the base is dark and curly, yet neatly groomed. His dick is almost the same color as the rest of his body, with a redder tint. You can see, up close, all the veins at work as he becomes harder in the palm of your hand. The tip is cut, pink, and dripping. You rub your thumb around it in circles, smearing the clear fluid around. 

He lets out a soft groan and sits back up on the bed.

He cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheeks. 

“Open your mouth,” he says. 

You slowly drop your jaw. His hands move to the back of your head and guide you forward. You close your eyes and try to remain calm and relaxed as you feel the tip of his dick at your lips.

He moves one of his hands to the base, and slides the tip of his dick around your lips before sliding it inside. With his other hand still behind your head, he pushes you further down. You put your hands on his thighs and start to resist when you feel you can’t take anymore in your mouth. 

He releases the pressure on the back of your head and you breathe out of your nose, adjusting to having so much of him in your mouth. It’s not your first blow job, but he’s a lot bigger than your ex and, you know, you hadn’t even kissed this man yet.

You start to stroke the base as your mouth focuses on the upper half. You move in unison, moving your hand up as your head draws back, then down as you take more of him in again. Your ex did not enjoy ‘sloppy’ blow jobs and all the saliva, but Chan seems to like it. You use the moisture that works up in your mouth to make it easier to glide along him. He groans as you start moving faster, and continues guiding your head with more force each time you descend. 

He grips his hand in your hair and you take that as a sign of encouragement to keep going. When you move your mouth to focus on just the tip as you continue stroking him with your hand, he releases your hair and falls back on the bed again. You suck only the tip, popping it out of your mouth like a lollipop and taking it inside again. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he croaks. 

Another sign of encouragement. You’ll have to take whatever words of acceptance you can get with him. 

You take your mouth off completely and use your tongue to lick upwards from the bottom to the top, gliding across the protruding vein there. When you go back to the base, his hand is on your head again, pushing you lower. Your eyes open wide as you see what he wants you to do. You straighten up to spit on his dick again and add moisture before returning back to his balls. You take one in your mouth, lightly sucking on it, then the other. 

“I knew it,” he breathes, seemingly talking to himself.

Knew what? You wonder. But you don’t stop. 

“Put your mouth back on my cock,” he says. 

You place your mouth back on him, moving up and down in synchronicity with your hand. Both of his hands go to your head, forcefully pushing you down as he bucks his hips up, groaning. 

He doesn’t warn you, so the first shot in your mouth startles you. You feel the warmth and taste the saltiness as he continues to thrust into your mouth. When his hips fall to the bed for the final time, you sit back on your legs. You’re not sure what to do next. You want to get up and run to the bathroom.

He sits back up, breathing heavily. The way he looks at you gives you some pause. He looks satisfied, relieved. He leans forward and kisses you briefly on the lips, apparently oblivious of the load you’re holding inside or something. When he leans back, your face is contorted as you gesture to your mouth. 

He shakes his head, careless of the expression you’re making. He places a finger under your jaw to keep it shut. 

“Swallow.”

You shake your head, but he doesn’t move his finger, he pushes up on your jaw harder, staring at you intently. You concede and move your heard forward slightly to make it easier to go down in one gulp. 

“Open.”

You open your mouth and show him nothing is there. 

“Good girl.” He pats your cheek before moving back on the bed towards his pillows, leaving you on your knees at the foot of the bed. “Get some sleep.”

You feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. So much for this situation being reciprocal. 

You shakily get to your feet, pick up your phone and retreat to your bed with the buttons of your shirt still undone. There’s no other way to describe how you're feeling—used. You slip underneath the blanket and immediately turn over to face the wall. You hear Chan get up a few minutes later and go to his bathroom. 

You let out a sigh when you believe he’s out of earshot. You signed up for this, but this…was not what you had expected. You imagine how this would have played out with Hyunjin. The two of you would have probably laughed together after your raunchy behavior and he would have held you as you fell asleep. You wish you were with him right now. You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning once again to the sound of your alarm going off and frantically silence it. You peek over your shoulder to see Chan still sleeping in his bed. Yesterday when you were bright eyed and optimistic, you set this alarm to get up and cook for him. Even though he said he wasn’t big on eating breakfast—today is his birthday. You wanted to do something nice for him. Of course that was all prior to him blowing his load in your mouth and then sending you off to bed immediately after. You contemplate just staying in bed and not mentioning his birthday to him at all.

The way he’s treating you doesn’t just sting, it fucking hurts. If everyone in the house had the same demeanor, perhaps you could understand it better—that they all are cold. But, no, everyone else has been nothing but nice to you. 

You have to reason with yourself that you can’t take his behavior personal. You’re here to perform certain duties and you can’t force or expect him to be affectionate with you. You shouldn’t take it as an offense. Easier said than done, though. 

You push the covers off and button up your shirt—you’d fallen asleep without ever fixing it—and make your way quietly down stairs. You stop on the second floor to brush your teeth, it’s desperately needed after last night. You feel yourself start to becoming angry at the thought. Did he enjoy knowing you’d spent the night with the taste of him lingering in your mouth? Why hadn’t you spoken up and said something…anything? Perhaps it falls back on being non-confrontational, but you’re also afraid of making him angry. You push the thoughts aside once again and wash your hands and face before heading to the kitchen.

The boys told you Chan really liked spam omelets so you’ll be making that for everyone, with rice. The distraction of prepping and cooking is a nice reprieve for your mind. You can’t focus on anything other than the task at hand. Some of the others file in soon after to keep you company. Or maybe they’re just waiting to eat. 

You’re finished within an hour. You make Chan a plate—rice on one side with furikake sprinkled on top, and the spam omelet on the other. You find a serving tray in the cabinet and place the plate and a glass of watermelon punch (another one of his favorites, you had been told) on it. The other’s start making their own plates and you head back upstairs to deliver Chan his breakfast in bed. The irony in this is not lost on you. Treating him like a goddamn king after he’d made you feel like a fucking harlot. 

When you get back to the room, he’s still sleeping. 

You sit the tray down at the foot of the bed. You had kinda hoped he’d be awake by now, as you’re not sure how he reacts to being woken up. You sit behind him on the bed and lightly shake him. He wakes easily and turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes half open. 

“Happy Birthday, Chan,” you say to him softly, forcing a smile. 

He takes a moment to adjust to being awake but promptly sits up on the bed, back against the pillows. 

“Thank you,” he replies, as his eyes fall on the tray of food. 

“I know you said you’re not big on breakfast but, I made you a spam omelet,” you say, reaching forward to grab the tray and drag it back towards him. 

He picks up the glass of juice and takes a long drink. 

“The others aren’t planning anything else today are they?” He asks warily, setting the glass back down. 

“Not that I know of…they said you’d kill them,” you shrug. 

“Good,” he nods. “You not eating?”

“There’s more downstairs…I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat alone or not.” You can’t bring yourself to add ‘with me’ in you response. 

He brings the tray closer to him and cuts a piece of the omelet with the fork. He adds a little bit of rice too, then holds the fork out to you, one hand cupped beneath it to catch anything that falls. 

You shake your head and try to push his hand away but he resists. 

“Open,” he says. 

You find this alarming—the rate at which your mouth drops open at his behest. He puts the fork in your mouth and you close your lips around it, drawing back to take the food from it.

He smiles at you then, a real smile. For the first time that you can remember since you’ve been here. His eyes are puffy from sleep so they get even smaller with his cheeks pressed up and you see he has a deep set of dimples. Before you can stop it, you feel your eyes begin to prickle. 

You recognize the onslaught of the water works and quickly stand from the bed. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to know that this small act of kindness felt like so much more to you after how he’s made you feel the past couple of days.

“Please, eat. Enjoy. I’ll see you later,” you say in a rush and head for the door before he can say anything to stop you. 

You don’t know if he calls after you as you speed down the hallway, wiping the lone tear that falls from your eye.

Later, you catch a ride to campus with Felix and Allie for your afternoon class, happy for another distraction to keep your thoughts of Chan at bay. You ride back home with Changbin and Seungmin who are adamant about having pizza for dinner. They advise you of Chan’s favorite place to order from—another birthday treat for him. They make a stop on the way home for beer and alcohol to celebrate. You’re wary of their choice but they tell you since it’s just those in the house in attendance, he won’t be upset about it. 

Back at the house, you lounge on the sofa watching TV with some of the others until Hyunjin arrives home around 3:00pm. He sits next to you and takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You lean your head on his shoulder and place your other hand on his arm. You appreciate his consistency and how easy it is to just be yourself without second guessing anything around him.

“How was last night?” He asks quietly.

“It was fine,” you lie.

“See? You were worried for nothing." He drapes his other arm across your side, pulling you closer to him. 

You’re thankful he can’t see your face. You don’t know if the Chan you’re experiencing is different than the one he knows, or if he fully knows what you’re going through and doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. Either way, you keep it to yourself. 

As more people start to return home, the birthday festivities begin. One case of beer is taken down to the basement to start beer pong and when Chan gets back, the alcohol bottles are cracked opened.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen to take a shot. Chan’s eyes meet yours for the first time since your awkward encounter this morning and you offer a polite smile. Hyunjin pulls you to stand between him and Chan and hands you a shot. You scrunch up your face and shake your head. 

“If I have to celebrate, everyone has to drink,” Chan says matter-of-factly. 

You grab the shot glass in one hand, and hold a can of Coke in the other. 

Lee Know loudly clears his throat before addressing the room. 

“To our fearless and humble leader,” he begins and Han snorts at his words, “We’re thankful to have spent another year with you as our chapter president. We can’t imagine anyone else in your place.”

“Speak for yourself,” Changbin pipes up, causing everyone to chuckle. 

“To another year, and many more to come.” He raises his glass in the air and everyone else follows suit before tossing back the shot. 

You grimace and groan as the burning liquid slides down your throat. 

“Good girl,” Chan says to you quietly, placing a hand on your side.

Your shirt is also tied up the way Jeongin showed you, so his fingers are able to freely roam over the exposed skin there. You tense up at the feeling—this public display. Has he gotten over whatever was bothering him? Did he really just need to release some sexual tension? Or does he just become happier when he drinks?

You don’t have to wait long to find out the answer to the latter. As the evening carries on and everyone moves down to the basement, there’s simultaneous games of beer pong and pool being played. Chan is laughing, smiling, and hugging his fraternity brothers and it’s kind of blowing your mind. 

As he stands behind Lee Know, hands wrapped around his waist and chin wresting on his shoulder as Jeongin says something that makes him laugh, you feel like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t. Who is this person? This can’t be the same guy that made you want to cry yourself to sleep yesterday.

You’re not sure if you should question it, maybe you should just be thrilled that he seems more carefree, perhaps not as weighed down by the responsibility of being the fraternity president tonight. Maybe he’ll be nicer tonight when it’s just the two of you up in his room.

You have another shot when everyone else takes one and have a mixed drink as you play beer pong with Hyunjin as your partner. The overall mood in the house is positive, everyone is having a good time. At one point you spot I.N. and his assignee, Charlotte, making out in the corner. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sight—Han was right. 

When the pizza arrives, you help Seungmin and Felix carry all the boxes down to the basement. You go through the boxes to find the one you ordered specifically for Chan and take it to him where he’s sitting at the bar. Thankfully, Seungmin and Changbin had been with you when you placed the order so you could make sure to get what he likes.

“For you, birthday boy,” you say with a smile, holding the box out to him. He takes it from your hand with a lazy smile and sits it on the bar counter. 

Chan lifts the box open, stares at the pizza inside for no more than two seconds before shutting the box and pushing it away. All traces of his previous smile completely gone. 

“Pineapple?” He forces the word out with a look of disgust, as though it pains him. 

Changbin and Seungmin burst into laughter behind you. You whip your head around and throw a glare in their direction. They played you. They planned for this moment to happen since this afternoon. As they remain doubled over in laughter you press your lips into a firm line and slowly nod your head. You will remember this.

You turn back to face Chan.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, “there’s literally every other kind of pizza you can imagine. What can I get you?”

 “Just plain pepperoni is fine,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn to retrieve him a box, but he catches your wrist to stop you, pulling you back towards him. Since he’s sitting down, you’re right at eye level with him. 

“You can’t be so gullible,” he says softly. “That’s gonna cost ya.”

He lightly taps you on the ass before jerking his head in the direction of the other pizza boxes and sending you on your way. 

He’s making pineapple on pizza sound like a cryptic deadly sin. As you plate him up some pepperoni pizza, his last words linger in your mind. You turn to look back at him, his eyes are on you from across the room. A shiver runs down your spine as your eyes meet his and he smirks. What is this innocent mistake going to cost you?

[ read chapter four here ]

a/n: i may be having a little too much fun with this chan. like, comment & reblog to keep fueling my writing fire :)

[mochinomnoms]

thinking about punk!jade and piercing his ear for him. maybe jade decides that he wants to experiment with his sense of style more by having his other ear pierced and who better to ask than his mate? he sees it as his mate making their mark on him and feeling giddy about being known as theirs. finally the times come to pierce his ear and he closes his eyes to prepare himself. jade’s seen his fair share of blood, so he’s fine, but the prefect mistakes his actions as him being nervous. While he waits he hears the prefect’s voice to focus on them then he feels their hand on his face, their body pressed close, and best of all, their lips on his. he barely notices the needle when he’s got his lover smothering them in love. if getting his ears pierced means he has his mate all over him and some cool-looking earrings then perhaps he’ll look more into punk inspired looks.

this was spurred on by a gif exactly like this but i feel as though this might be kinda niche so if it doesn’t vibe with you please ignore me and my 2am thoughts ( ´ ∀ `)ノ

-🪸

See this is cute, but also you need to be very careful when piercing, so unfortunately for Jade, if his mate is the one piercing him they can't be distracted with kisses. HOWEVER if they go to a professional piercer:

“So you did this one.” The piercing artist pointed at the sturgeon scale earring on his left. “When you were 12. Under the sea—”

“With a fishhook.” Jade added, 'helpfully.'

“...with a fishhook, and by some miracle it didn't get infected?”

You snorted at the look the piercing artist gave Jade, a mix of incredulous and impressed. She was covered in a variety of silver jewelry, from her lips, nose, and eyebrows, to her cheeks and the many in her ears. They suited her very well, especially with her pointed ears and the skeletal tattoos on her arms.

“My mother found out the next morning when she woke us up for school. Just about scared the whole neighborhood awake with her screams.” Jade's lips quirked up, as he was fond of the memory.

“She'd agreed to have the doctor do it for us after school the next day, but my brother was rather impatient and wanted to wear the earrings right then and now.”

“Jade let out a soft chuckle. Indeed Ms. Nastasia. We did end up going to the doctor to clean the holes out and fashion the scales to a proper earring instead of a fishhook, as Floyd was already having a reaction.”

The artist sighed again and fiddled with the chain hanging between her ear lobe and the tip of her ear.

“Sounds right, so the rest of these,” she pointed two fingers around his ear lobes. “Are from the doctor later on?”

“Yes.” Jade clenched his hands uncomfortably as the pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. He thinned his lips as she started touching his ears.

You tapped your own fingers on top of his hand, which he opened and let you lace your fingers with his.

“Sorry.” Natasha gave Jade a small smile. “I'll quit poking you in a sec, I gotta inspect your ears. I gotta make sure that your old piercings are still good. Merfolk don't wear jewelry often, right?”

“It's fine.” Jade looked down, watching as you fidgeted with his hand. “No, we don't. You tend to run the risk of long or dangling jewelry getting caught in someone else's fins, in kelp, or in fishermen's nets.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Nastasia smiled as she leaned back, turning to her countertop to get her tools ready.

“Unfortunately, it seems that most of them did close over time, I'm guessing it got too long since you've worn jewelry in them. I'll have to repierce most of them, but I recommend doing just one today to see how you'll do, and we can do some more at another session.”

Jade nodded and tapped his free hand against his chin.

“I see...which one should I do...” He turned to you to ask. “What do you think of another earring on me?”

You gasped excitedly and bolted from his grasp, confusing him and Nastasia. They watched as you looked among the various jewelry, humming to yourself.

“Oh!” You twirled back around, grinning. “If you get another earring on your right ear, can I pick the earring?”

“Jade raised a brow at you, smirking as he crossed his arms. I suppose, what is it?”

“It's gonna be a surprise! Ms. Nastasia! Can you do this one?”

Nastasia got up, looked at the piece you pointed at and nodded.

“If he's fine with it.” She looked over at him, to which he nodded.

“Alright! Let me get everything ready.”

You took a seat next to Jade again, excitedly tapping your feet against the ground and playing with Jade's hand again.

“It's great! You're gonna love it Jade!”

“Jade smile and squeezed your hand in his. I'll trust your judgement then.”

Nastasia slid over in a rolling chair, pulling a wheeled trolley with her tools. Jade noticed that she was hiding something wrapped in plastic as she prepared her piercing needle.

“Alright, sweetheart? Why don't you talk to your boyfriend? Something sweet while I get his ear ready.”

You nodded, moving to his left side as Jade tensed at the cold alcohol pad being wiped over his ear lobe.

“Hey, Jade?”

Jade moved his gaze to you, lips quirking as you came closer to whisper in his ear.

“Yes?”

He felt a tingling feeling go down his spine as he felt your breath against his skin.

“Should we match too? Me and you?”

You giggled as Jade smiled, his left arm reaching to curl around your waist.

“Oh? Isn't that what humans use wedding bands for? To match to each other? Don't you want to be wed, my dear?” Jade murmured back, closing his eyes as you pressed soft kisses against his temple.

“Yeah, we can do those too. We can have matching earrings, bands,” You laughed again against his ear. “This is just so when people ask about your earring, you can tell them all about how I picked it out, cause you're mine.”

Jade closed his eyes, basking in your affections as you continued to flutter his cheek, lips, and forehead with kisses. A cough interrupted you two.

“As cute as this is, you're all done now.” Nastasia laughed at your surprised expressions. “Here, take a look and tell me what you think.”

Nastasia handed Jade a handheld mirror, who was currently looking flustered.

“Apologies, I hadn't realized that you even finished.”

“It's fine.” Nastasia waved her hand, smiling as Jade inspected the heart shaped mushroom stud in his right ear. “I try to get my clients thinking about happy thoughts so they're distracted from the pain. Most of them don't even realize that they got pierced.”

You rested your head against Jade's shoulder, waiting for his response.

“Do you like it?”

Jade remained silent, still staring at the silver mushroom.

“...Jade?”

He handed the mirror back to Nastasia, turning to you to grab your cheeks in his hand and squeeze them together, making you purse your lips.

You squealed, laughing as Jade returned your earlier favor and kissed your lips.

“It's wonderful, my dear.” Jade let you go, turning to Nastasia with a smile. “If we still have some time, perhaps we can follow through with their commitment and pierce their ear as well?”

Nastasia snorted as she looked at you for your response. “Oh? You want to match with your boyfriend?”

The teasing tone in her voice made you warm up as you nodded shyly.

“Yeah…you really want to, Jade?”

“Why, of course!” Jade moved to let you take his spot as Nastasia put away the used tools and grabbed sterilized ones. “You said you wanted others to know I'm yours as much as you're mine? We should make that a reality~”

[sturnlova]

Traumatised Brothers ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning :Smut, M receiving, time skip, i really never know what to put here, new to writing, not proof read all the way)

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900 )

Y/N POV:

As i stood in the boys kitchen warming up donuts for us to all eat Matt screams out “YOU LIKE HER” Chris slapped his chest really hard as he turned red, Nick just yelled at matt to shut the fuck up.

I turned around with the donuts and asked “ the fuck are yall talking about” “NOTHING nothing Matt is just being an idiot.” Suspicious i thought to myself but ignored it as we continued watching the movie Scream.

As i bite into the donut the donut feel apart leaving icing on my bottom lip and some crumbs on my boobs. When i noticed i had made a mess i wiped it off hoping no one saw but Chris saw and he also had focus on my boobs but i didn’t really mind because it’s Chris. Like the Chris i’ve liked for ages.

Chris cleared his throat and stood up “sorry i’ll be back i don’t feel to well..” Matt and nick asked if he was okay and i just stood up and rubbed his shoulder asking if he needed anything.

Chris responded back with “ i’m fine don’t worry” and quickly hurried off to his room.

Time Skip

By now Chris had been gone for 10 minutes and i had to check up on him but i didn’t need Matt and Nick being there to because i know Chris gets embarrassed when he is seen as “weak” even though getting sick is nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus they would tease me about liking him since they knew i liked him for a bit too long.

“ I’ll be back i need to go to the bathroom, don’t worry about pausing the movie” “ Ok we weren’t playing on it anyway” Nick said giggling.

I walked my way to Chris’ room and was about to open the door until i heard whimpers coming from the other side, and my name..?

I opened the door to be seen with Chris lying down with his hand in his pants moving up and down, along with his eyes closed and mouth open. He hadn’t noticed me until i crawled onto the bed positioning myself between his legs.

“Y/N what the fuck i’m sorry, i didn’t even realise you were here and i- fuck you must think i’m so disgust-“ I cut Chris off by kissing him passionately and palming his dick and pushing his hand away.

“ Chris do you want me to help you?” “ please Y/N please i need your help”

I pulled down his pants in a slow fashion all the way down to his ankles.

I spit on his tip and started using my hands to move the spit up and down well i rubbed my thumb on the slit of his tip. I put my lips on his digits and started bobbing my head up and down well his hand was in my hair with a strong grip making a ponytail, all the force he used made me moan in a “ hurts but feels so good” way.

As he started twitching in my mouth i knew he was close so i started going faster “ FUCKK Y/N DONT STOP IM SO CLOSE” he continued screaming my name. I didn’t stop but i did start using my hands instead of my mouth for i could speak to him “ Chris your brothers gonna hear, do you even care that they hear you scream and beg for me to jerk you off? “ Chris just moaned and spoke under his breath with a string of curses as he got milked out.

He had some of his cum on his happy trail and on my hand. I licked the mess off his stomach and then lifted my top to expose my breasts and took his cum off my hands and rubbed it all over my boobs as a substitute for lotion.

When it was all over my boobs and off my hands, i pulled my top back on and put chris’ pants back on. “ Y/N that was the best handjob i’ve ever experienced thank you like truly thank you, do you want me to finger you?” usually i wouldn’t deny this offer but today it was just about him “ Chris it’s ok baby i just wanted you to feel good.”

“ Chris do you like, like me because i know i like you, i think i love you.” “ i like you to Y/N i think i love you too.” We talked about how we would take this forward and whats gonna happen since we will be going on a date tomorrow at the park, Chris knew i loved the park.

As i got Chris decent and walked out his room we were shown with an empty house and a note left on the kitchen counter like it was the olden days reading “ message us to come back when Chris is done moaning your name, if you couldn’t tell this is from his 2 traumatised brothers Matt and Nick.”

Chirs just looked at me and pointed at the note with a facial expression that looked like this “😐” i responded back with a giggle.

[the-daydreaming-show]

Midnight thoughts on Batmom and her children's clothes.

WARNING: My mother was like this, Not on the money side, though. And you ask:¿Ella, are you projecting?, and I will answer: No. ¿Were you got such nonsense idea?

This gif represents my mind right now. I should be sleeping.

Batmom keeps its kids SPOTLESS when it comes to dressing. She doesn't control what they wear, but her kids have only the best brands on them. And if she couldn't get whatever they want in the best brand, it's gonna will be tailored for them.

JUST THE BEST FOR HER BABIES.

And she does not repeat it, there is no such thing as the younger brother taking the clothes of the older one in this family. Each child has their own style, autonomy and clothes, and they rarely agree on those things so sharing is never an option for them when it comes to clothing. If her baby grows out of their clothes, Batmom donate it or keep it for future grandchildren.

I mean, I'm talking about #silentluxury for her children, from they feet to the tip of their heads.

The funniest thing about all this is that most of the time they do not even realize it. It's not until a Gotham news forum pulls out a detailed article about the Wayne's silent luxury fashion and how it dates from Dick's early days at the mansion to the present day with Damian that they notice the pattern.

Like, imagine newly-reunited-with-his-family-but-still-rebellious Jason wearing a sweatshirt of the brand The Row that clearly bought his mom and costs at least $ 800 that he can not pay because he is a rebel and does not need his dad's money but he acepts gifts from his mum, of course.

Or little Dick returning from a day of art classes (because Batmom decided to give him other extracurricular activities other than a vigilante dressed as a traffic light) excited with his Dior jeans of $ 1300 dollars stained in paint, but with a work of art in his hand that he did only for his mommy.

Or Tim, wearing a pair of $450 black Gucci sandals, walking half-asleep out of his college class after he didn't hear his alarm, so he left with the first thing he found from his apartment.

Or Damian, putting one of his cashmire sweaters on Titus at Christmas, wearing a maching of his own, equally expensive and soft.

Also, imagine Cassandra only wearing THE BEST in balett shoes and equipment, totally unconsciously of the amount of money that really costs, all that because neither Batmom nor Bruce ever told her because it's nothing really that expensive for this family.

And no matter how many clothes they ruin. Never. And I repeat: NEVER their mom will allow her children to have something less.

(They are more spoiled than they themselves even realize.)

Bruce got jealous at some point and started letting Batmom choose his wardrobe as well.

Allright, NOW I'm done.

Good night.

[obxthornton]

Blackout - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Drunk night with Rafe Cameron

warnings: angst, fighting, drugs, alcohol, blood, fluff, mentions of drunk driving (dont ever), nice rafe

WC: 4133

"Good Afternoon Mr. Cameron." I smiled lightly at Ward. He always tipped a twenty dollar bill at the end of the day. It was Friday which meant it was his weekly golf match against 2 of his buddies. I knew Ward from the days of me and Sarah laying out by her pool when my brother and her boyfriend would be doing god knows what.

"y/n how are you doing?" He asked smiling at me. I nodded, "Pretty good sir. Can I get for you anything?" 

He hummed in response thinking, "Old fashion. Never too early for a drink." He laughed and I fake laughed in response. "Right out sir. On your tab?" He nodded

I turned away and walked into the inside and behind the bar pouring the drink, making it extra strong the way he liked it.

I walked out behind the bar holding the drink and walking toward the side doors. I went to open it but it opened for me. 

My face fell as I saw a Rafe Cameron standing in front of me blocking the exit. "y/n." He said smiling at me wickedly.

I gritted my teeth and looked up at the boy. "Rafe. I'm trying to bring this drink to your dad so excuse me." I said to the boy annoyed. 

"Oh, I got it." He said grabbing the drink from my hand before I could even say anything. I frowned my eyebrows at the nice gesture, "Okay." I mumbled before turning back around and walking back into the room.

"Excuse miss, can I get beer?" A man said at the bar. I nodded and walked behind the counter grabbing a beer and popping the top off of it handing it to him. 

"y/n! Can you make a strawberry daiquiri?" My coworker Elise said. "Sure babe," I said grabbing the mix out of the mini fridge and I poured the mix in the blender along with ice and rum. 

After I made the drink I walked out and handed it to my coworker. Walking past Mr. Cameron's seat I saw he didn't have a drink. "Did you want another drink?" I asked.

"I never got my first one." He said. My jaw clenched and I looked behind Mr. Cameron to see Rafe finishing off the drink, setting it down at the counter, a smug smile on his face.

"My apologies sir. I must have accidentally given it to the wrong table." I said before walking back to the bar and making the drink. I sat it down infront of Mr. Cameron, "Here you go, sir. Again, I'm so sorry. 

"Here's the money for the drink, I'm closing off the tab." He said handing me the exact change for the drink. 

"Yes sir. You have a nice day." I said gritting my teeth. I looked up at Rafe's smug face, "Mr. Cameron is your son on your tab or is he paying for his own drinks? Just so I know." I asked.

Ward shook his head, "he should be on his own tab." 

I smiled. "Of course sir."

I turned away before walking towards Rafe Cameron and the two other kooks who were with him, topper and Kelce. 

"Waitress. 'Nother drink." He snickered holding up the empty glass. 

"What the hell dude," I asked Rafe. "I could get fired, your underage. You made me lose a tip from your dad." I huffed.

Rafe shared a smile with his friends, "I don't think you heard me. Another. Drink. Waitress."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his command and walking towards the only Cameron I could tolerate at the moment. "Hey Sarah, you need anything?" I asked. Her eyes lit up and she grabbed my arm pulling me down into the chair next to her. "yes! please y/n come to this party with me. Please I need you there." I sighed looking at the girl, "Tonight?" Sarah nodded, "Please, we can pregame at John b's and then go." I sighed once more, nodding at the girl, "Okay." She let out a giddy noise and hugged me. I wonder what I had got myself into. 

___

"The parties at toppers house?" I said as we pulled up to Sarah's ex's house. "That's why you're here." She said smiling at me as she turned off the car.

"Why even come to your ex's party?" I asked.

"I have other friends that are here but they'll leave so I need you." She smiled. I sighed and got out of the car walking around the front. After a long day of working at the country club, this was exactly what I wanted to do. Hint the sarcasm. 

"Come on it'll be fun. We get free drinks plus we're super late so it'll be over soon. Hey at the end well go back to my house okay?" She said. I nodded and followed her up to the house.

As soon as we stepped into it music was playing and I immediately went to the kitchen to grab a drink. I poured beer into a cup from the keg and handed it to Sarah before pouring me one. "Thanks." She said taking a sip.

I took a sip of my drink before we walked to the backyard where people were swimming, dancing, and kissing. 

It was around 2 hours later and after many more drinks when topper, Sarah's ex finally spotted us.

"Sarah. Glad you could make it." Topper said walking up.

"Well, I didn't come because you asked me to," Sarah said taking another sip of her drink.

"Y/n." Topper smiled. I rolled my eyes at the boy but gave him a small one in return.

"Oo I'll be right back Kay?" Sarah said pointing to a group of girls who I assumed were from her school. I nodded as she walked away and looked back at Topper who was still there.

"We got some yayo in the basement if you want some," Topper said motioning to the back stairs.

I shook my head and took a sip of my drink, "I do not mix well with cocaine trust me." I shivered at the thought of 2 summers ago.

Topper looked at me confused but I waved him off before turning around and filling up my cup. I turned back around as I took my sip and Topper was now replaced with Rafe making me jump. "Jeez, dude. Your face is terrifying." I mumbled taking another sip of my drink.

"This party has a no pogues allowed policy." He said.

I raised my eyebrows up and then down, "must have missed the sign at the door. I only saw the no douche one."  He scoffed at me, "Oh so I'm the douche huh? You got me in trouble with my dad because You put my drinks on his card." I thought back to yesterday when I did charge Rafe's drinks to his dad's tab. Per his request.

I shook my head, "I don't remember doing that." I said as I took a sip of my drink.

"Yeah, you did. And now I can't go to the country club anymore." Rafe said. 

I laughed. "Oh, this is perfect! I love my job now. Can't wait to go to work on Monday." 

Rafe smirked at me lightly, "Oh so you're not going to miss me?"

My smile fell, "No I will not miss you. You tip me pennies from your pocket. And that's worse than zero tips." 

"Come on y/n I know you'll miss my pennies." He said hitting my shoulder with the back of his hand.

I smiled lightly at him and hit his shoulder back, "Will not!" 

An arm slid around my waist tightly and I looked to my sighed and saw some guy who I had zero clue was. "Hey, I'm Zach." He smiled at me.

I held my arms infront of my chest and laughed awkwardly. "Hi," I mumbled.

"Move along buddy, making the girl uncomfortable," Rafe said motioning to me.

"Yeah, you are," I said trying to move his arm from around my waist.

"And who am I talking to?" Zach said letting go but now posting up to Rafe. "Her boyfriend?" He asked, "Or just some punk bitch."

Rafe now also squared up to the boy, they were both the Same in size and their faces were inches away. 

"Guys please," I said rolling my eyes and setting down my drink.

"Oh, I get it," Zach said.  "She's the bitch." 

Rafe swung first making the guy fall back onto me, he's head hitting my nose before he regained his balance and swung at Rafe. I wiped my nose and saw there was blood on my hands. I muttered a quiet cuss word before I was pulled back.

"Y/n you're too close you're going to get- never mind youre already bleeding," Sarah said huffing annoyed at me. "Your brothers going to kill me."

"It may be broken," I mumbled touching it and wincing.

"You need to go to the hospital," Sarah stated.

I shook my head. "They don't do anything for a broken nose. Plus I have alcohol in my system and I'm broke so." I grabbed a napkin from the table and put it up to my nose. I turned around and saw that Rafe and Zach were still fighting, now surrounded by an audience.

Sarah's phone rang and she grabbed it out of her pocket and silently cursed, "I'll be right back." She jogged told the front door opened it and stepped out.

I sighed and turned back to Rafe and Zach. "Oh my gosh please someone knock someone else out or break it up!" I yelled at the two boys. My calls were drowned out by the yells of encouragement from their friends.

"Y/n I'm really sorry but I have to go. Topper said he'd give you a ride home." She said. I nodded and waved her away for her to go home. Wheezie probably got caught sleeping in Sarah's bed as a cover.

"Sweet it's still going on," Topper said from next to me sipping his drink. 

"Can you please make it stop?" I groaned. He looked at the time on the oven and shrugged, "It is getting late. Go ahead."

"Hey!" I yelled. "Cops are down the street!" The swarm of people crowded around the fight dispersed and ran out the front, back, windows everywhere. Topper stood next to me sipping his drink and I grabbed another napkin from the counter throwing the used one in the sink.

Rafe tried to run also but I slapped my arm infront of his chest. "I wouldn't go home. Sarah's getting her ass beat." 

"But the cops, I got coke on me, man." He said trying to go again. I put my hand on His chest again and pushed him forward alittle. "There's no cops Rafe."

"Right." He mumbled

-------

"You know, thanks for Getting my nose broken," I mumble looking down at the soaked napkin.

He rolled his eyes, "he called you a bitch!"

"Well, id rather be called a bitch than have my nose broken Rafe." I scoffed.

"I wouldn't!"

I threw the napkin into the sink and shook my hand. "I'll give you both right now bitch." I said putting my hand into a fist and pulling my arm back. 

Topper grabbed my fist and looked at the tile floor we were on. "Go punch his nose outside or in the bathroom. I can't have any more blood on this floor." He said to us like we were crazy. "After you fight, come help me clean up." Top said grabbing a trash bag and walking away.

I blinked slowly at the boy before shrugging, "Outside or bathroom?"I asked Rafe.

He rolled his eyes and went into the pantry, "what you need is to fix your nose." He said diving threw the medical supplies.

"Shit Rafe it's crooked!" I yelled at him looking at the reflection of my phone.

"It's always been crooked." He said walking out of the cupboard with a box in hand. "Splint from when Topper broke his nose last year playing golf." He said proudly holding it up.

"Gross I don't want dirty splint! It still has dried blood on it." I wined swatting Rafe's hand away.

His face dropped, "then what do you want me to do?" 

"CVS?" I asked. He sighed and shrugged throwing the splint in the trash. "Topper we're leaving, be back later!" He yelled grabbing his keys out of his pocket and walking to the front door.

I grabbed some more napkins for the car ride and followed him out of the door. Maybe it was the alcohol but he and I were getting along, well better than normal.

"Your seats are so far back," I mumbled pushing it up. "I'm not much shorter than topper and he's your only friend why does he have it pushed back so much?" 

"I have other friends," Rafe said turning around to reverse his truck out of the driveway.

"Do you have any friends above the age of 17? Alittle creepy." I said raising my hands up in defense.

"Do you? Work friends don't count" He shot back. 

A big smile went across my face as I started laughing, "We're losers!"

Rafe pulled into the CVS parking lot and unbuckled along with me. "You got a fake on you?" Rafe asked. I pulled out my wallet and grabbed my ID, "I'm Alexis Taylor from 15778 Shoreline road. My birthday is April 17, 1999, I'm 21." 

He smiled at me, "Perfect. Because I need a beer and you need cigarettes."

"And you need to get a butterfly stitch for your face," I told Rafe. He touched his finger lightly to his temple where blood was now on his finger. "That guy didn't even land one hit on me, how did that happen?"

"Rafe you were losing that fight," I told him. He scoffed at me, "I was winning that fight."

I patted his shoulder, "keep telling yourself that."

I got out of the car and walked up on the sidewalk. Rafe opened up his car door and stepped out, "I definitely won." He said. He took another step before slipping and falling into a big puddle of old rainwater and mud. He sat up and wiped his annoyed face off. My lip quivered as I tried not to laugh. He stood up and wiped off his shorts and his blue shirt was now covered in dirty water. 

"Don't. Don't say anything." He said pointing at me. I smiled and held up my hands in defense. I threw my napkins in the garbage can outside and I walked inside.  I waved at the poor worker who looked as if he just wanted to go home and debated with himself on why he decided to work the night shift at a 24-hour CVS.

"You got. You got alittle something." I told Rafe as I grabbed a leaf off of his head. 

"Yeah? Well, your nose started bleeding again." He said. I touched my nose and groaned at the blood on my hand. Nothing I could do now.

I walked to the back where the medical supplies were and grabbed a splint, butterfly stitches, and some bandaids. I'm sure Rafe got a scratch or two from that face plant in the parking lot.

Rafe came into the aisle with a case of beer and a bag of pretzels. "What's the pretzels for?" I asked. 

"Don't you like pretzels?" He said.

"There my favorite." I smiled, "Okay super important question." 

"silver splint or nude split?" I held both up to my nose. 

Rafe thought for a moment, "Nude. Silver clashes." I nodded and put the silver one back.

"Ready?" I asked and he nodded. We walked back up to the front and we placed all our stuff on the counter infront of the poor dude who just wanted to go home.

"Pack of Marlboro too please," I said grabbing cash out of my wallet. I smiled lightly giving the man my fake ID.

The man looked between me and Rafe, "You guys look like hell." He said before ringing up the items grabbing the cigarettes and putting them in the bag. 

I looked up at the back mirrors that were placed all along the wall and I laughed, I hit Rafe's chest and pointed to it and he laughed too.

Blood streamed out my nose and dripped down onto my shirt. It covered the entire bottom half of my face I guess thinning out from the alcohol. Rafe stood next to me covered in mud and soaking wet. His hair was messy and he had blood lightly on his temple. 

We looked insane.

Rafe lead his head towards my ear, 

"We look insane."

--------

A cigarette dangled from my lip from the bed of Rafe's truck and a beer in my hand. He threw his beer can behind him and opened up a new one.

"Stop moving," I mumbled trying to put the butterfly stitch on Rafe's temple. He took a sip of his beer making me pull my hands away and glare at him. "What did I just say?" 

"Sorry princes." He said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and placed my wrists lightly on his face as I lined up the stitch on one side pulling lightly and matching it on the other.

I felt Rafe's eyes on me and he moved his head lightly so he could look at me better. I laughed lightly, "really!" I shook my head at the wrinkled stitch.

"You look really nice." He said.

My breath hitched and blinked slowly, "how much to drink have you had today?" 

"A lot. And some coke." He said. I shook my head and grabbed a bandage out of the box. 

I opened it with my teeth and patted my leg. Rafe swung his leg up on my lap and I raked up his shorts a tad so I could put the bandage on a cut on his knee.

"Kiss it better?" He asked. I grimaced at his muddy knee, "No that's disgusting."

He groaned, "What about the one on my head?" 

"Are you going to kiss my nose?" I asked. He grimaced also, "There's dried blood."

"Exactly," I said pushing myself off of the truck. "Well, I'm going to get topper to take me home."

Rafe groaned, "It's not even late! It's barely 3."

Waving my finger at him in a no motion, "You said that an hour ago."

"Lemme drive you home." He begged.

"You're drunk Rafe I am not having you operate a vehicle. Come on, it's kinda cold." I said holding out my hands. He grabbed them and hopped down grabbing the CVS bag and throwing me the bag of opened pretzels. I opened it and ate one as he closed the tailgate of his truck. 

"Topper?" I said as I pushed open the door of his house. "Ready to drive me home?" I said in a sing song voice. 

I looked in the living room to see the boy dead asleep on the couch, mouth open, trash bags tied throughout the room. We totally forgot to help him clean up.

"Well, he's asleep guess I have to drive you," Rafe said twirling his keys on his pointer finger. I grabbed the keys and banged them on the counter, "I'll just sleep in the guest room. Come on let's get you to bed."

I said grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs. Rafe stumbled on the 4th step almost falling making me giggle lightly, "Shh!" I shushed him and probably myself. "Shh." He said back as he walked up the stairs. We were both alittle more drunk than we had bargained for.

I guided the boy to topper's room and sat him on the bed. "Shoes?" I said. He took off his shoes and put them in my hand, "shoes."

I opened up topper drawer, pulled out some red plaid pajama bottoms, and threw them to Rafe. "No shirt." He mumbled pulling off his own. 

"Wait till I turn around for you to change asshat," I mumbled turning around.

"I don't care." He said as I heard his shorts being pulled down.

"I know you don't. But I do." I said rubbing my head. After moments of silence, I turned around and hesitantly turned around to see Rafe under the covers. 

"Perfect. Now. Go to bed." I said picking up his dirty clothes and throwing them into Topper's bathroom.

He groaned and moved to the far side of the bed, "the guest bed isn't made." He muttered with his eyes closed.

"Couch," I stated.

"I would not lay on that." 

"Floor."

Rafe groaned, "Come on just lay right here I don't bite. Hard."

I rolled my eyes and opened up toppers door to leave. "I'm joking. Y/N come on just get some sleep." He said. "Look I'll face this way." He said turning to face the wall.

I rolled my eyes and slipped off my shoes knowing he wouldn't shut up if I didn't. I grabbed a shirt from Toppers drawer and slipped off mine and put it on. "Face that way the whole time," I growled as I lay down next to him, facing his direction.

I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, not going to lie topper's bed was 10 times better than my own. 

Hot breath hit my face and my eyes fluttered open to see Rafes face right in front of mine. His eyes open and his breath smelt of beer. "Hi." He said smiling.

I wanted to roll my eyes at him or tell him to turn the other way but the alcohol in me made me smile back. "Hi," I whispered back.

Rafe's hand cupped the side of my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my cheek. He leaned in slowly pressing his lips gently onto mine and the crazy thing was;

I kissed him back.

---- 

Weeks passed and even though Rafe was not allowed at the country club he still came on any day that wasn't Friday knowing that was his dad's day. He didn't mention a single thing about that night with their little adventure.

To be honest, y/n wouldn't have remembered it if she didn't wake up next to him.  y/n didn't think she drank that much but then she realized she and Sarah pre-gamed with some hard liquids at John b house. 

Y/n is what she would call a functional drunk, you couldn't even tell she was drunk.

Rafe was drunk and high and probably didn't even remember when he got her nose broken, which was still healing.

She wouldn't dare tell JJ she hung out with the kook. Or even Kie. Kie was the girl's best friend and she wouldn't even speak about that night with her. 

To be honest, that night with Rafe, the one that she could barely remember and was splotchy in her mind, was the best night she had in years. 

~~~~~~~

Rafe Cameron pulled the butterfly stick off of his skin, rubbing his ringer over the now-closed wound. He still couldn't quite remember where he got the cut but he assumed it was at Topper's party. He pretty much had a blackout. He didn't think he drank that much but he remembered he came over early and pregamed on some hard alcohol.

He just knew we went and then he woke up in Topper's room with a massive headache. He wondered why his clothes were disgusting or why there was a CVS bag full of empty beer cans and cigarettes in the bed with him.

He didn't even smoke.

He assumed he and Kelce got into some stuff but when Kelce told him he didn't even go to the party it left him even more confused. When he asked Topper what had happened he just said "Not my place dude." With his hands up in defense.

Even more confusing was the blood on the passenger side of his car. 

"Did I kill someone last week?" He asked Kelce and Topper as they walked into the country club around noon on a Monday. 

"You are thinking about it too much man!" Kelce said rubbing races shoulders, "Relax."

They sat down at a table outside before they would go golf. "Nope, I got it!" He said snapping his fingers together.  "Pretzels. Why do I remember pretzels that's so stupid I hate pretzels." He mumbled putting his fingers on his temples.

"What can I get for you boys?" Y/n asked walking up to the table of kooks making Rafe's head snap towards her. "Sprite, Coke, and Fanta?" She asked.

"Hey y/n, your nose is healing well." Topper said.

She touched the splint on her nose lightly, "another week and it should be fine." 

"You didn't break that nose in my car did you?" Rafe asked. The girl let out a uh before she shook her head, topper shot her a smirk. "Damn it," Rafe muttered turning to face forward. 

"Uh, those drinks are fine thanks," Kelce said waving her off. "Dude what was that."

"You know who's the only person under 40 that likes pretzels? Y/n!" Rafe said huffing, looking over at y/n grab a pretzel from a bowl on the bar counter.

Kelce laughed looking over at Topper and then back to Rafe, "Dude I think you're stretching it."

"I know she has something to do with last Friday."Rafe turned to look at her. "I just know it."

~~

[kekaki-cupcakes]

hello!! Hope you’re doing well!!

could you please do a Leo x mortal reader cafe au like the Connor stoll one? And could the reader be a Greek mythology nerd also please have a little brother who she’ll randomly quiz about the Olympian gods?

have a nice day 😚😚

heyyy i didn't get your whole request in but i got the vibe dw and also kind of made a moodpboard for it cause I loved the whole aesthetic and no one requests mood boards <3 LISTEN TO EXPRESSO BY SABRINA!

Leo Valdez x Reader--- cafe au

»»————-　★　————-««

“Hello,” you said, looking up from your screen for a millisecond, “what can I get you today?”

When whoever it was ordering didn’t respond, you raised an eyebrow, hand hovering over the digital menu. The boy frowned at the screen above your head where it listed all the different drinks. He had the nicest brown curls, you noticed, and looked back down before he caught you staring. 

He tapped his fingers quickly on the counter. Sabrina Carpenter's new song was playing over the cafe speakers. It sounded like summer.

“How many espresso shots are you legally allowed to put in one drink?” The boy asked with a crackly voice. He had dark smudges under his eyes. And on his hands. Huh. You really needed a camera to look into at times like this, for comedic effect. Like the office.

“About six,” you said, dropping your customer service voice with a shrug, and opened up a new order on the tablet, your bracelets jingling. “What can I get you today?” 

You loved your bracelets. Some were from that second hand store down the street full of goths and grandmas where you’d bought yet another version of the Odyssey yesterday, and the rest were from your little brother. 

You never admitted it to anyone, but he’d made them based on all your favorite Greek gods. The ones you were wearing today had pomegranate seed charms and antler horn patterns.  

His eyes widened considerably. They were brown. And sparkly. “What happened to your voice?”

You squinted at him. Someone else came into the cafe with three little dogs stuffed into their giant handbag. 

“That was my customer service voice.” Your brain was finally receiving enrichment in messing with this cute greasy boy. You put it on again, paired with a fake smile. “What can I get for you today?” 

He chuckled, and hitched a giant canvas tote bag over his shoulder. There was a giant inked cat with butterfly wings on it, and a long metal pipe sticking out the back. You had a feeling this boy would steal your name if he got ahold of it, or trap you in a ring of flowers deep in a forest.

“Uh,” he trailed off, and then winked, scrunching up his entire face. “Surprise me.”

You blinked at him. How entirely helpful. You watched him pull an entire fucking old fashioned pocketwatch out of his pocket to check the time. 

Medium was the most commonly ordered size of drink, so you selected that, and then a caramel latte with whipped cream. You had that knack that every person in your generation seemed to have been born with. 

Selecting random objects and flavors to match someone’s vibe precisely. You just happened to be a barista. 

For instance, this talkative sleep deprived boy was rocky road slices with peanuts in them, and torn open sugar packets, and caramel. Your coworker, Lou Ellen, who was wiping down tables behind the handbag dog man, was those butterfly shaped ice-cubes and home brewed black coffee from a saucepan and dragon fruit juices.                            And that thick book on Greek mythology she’d bought you for your birthday last year [she’d nicked it from the library and peeled the sticker off]. 

“Four dollars and sixty cents,” you said patronizingly, in your customer service voice. He grinned like you had just invented the funniest inside joke ever, and handed over five dollars in fifty cents coins.

“Keep the change.”

You printed out the receipt and reached for a medium sized cup and the ballpoint pen from a uni campus open day, after pocketing the generous tip of forty cents and a paperclip. 

What a gentleman. “Name?” 

“Leo Valdez, super sized Mcshizzle, bad boy supreme,” Leo Valdez super sized Mcshizzle bad boy supreme said happily, as one of the handbag dogs escaped the bag and started chewing on his laces. 

You desperately needed that camera to look into now. You should be the star of a sitcom at this point, with you as the tired main character dealing with silly customers while desperately longing to go home and read your books, Lou Ellen as the hilarious trashy best friend, Will [your coworker who was currently taking out the trash] as the angry bisexual lumped with the night shift crew, and your little brother, who would pop in at random times in each episode to deliver the punchline.  

Instead of letting the credits roll, unfortunately, you scribbled out an unintelligible scrawl to represent the complete nonsense you were supposed to instead. Your smile was strained this time. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Leo [you assumed that was his name] beamed. “Thanks!”

It was only as you frothed the milk and tried not to burn your fingertips on the spout did you realize that the song was still going. Lou must’ve looped it, as she did with every song ever until she got sick of it and hated it. 

You nodded your head and tipped the bubbling milk into the cup, reaching for the tube of caramel sauce. “Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya, I know I Mountain Dew it for ya.” 

“That morning coffee, brewed it for ya.” You rolled your eyes to no one and tipped the extra caramel sauce into it. It was ten o'clock at night, and your shift had just started. Morning coffees meant college students rushing in at two a.m. so they could finish their projects. 

You shook up the whipped cream. “One touch and I brand-newed it for ya.” 

One of the most satisfying parts of your job, apart from spinning around and introducing yourself as the manager [you are not the manager] when someone demands to see the manager [who comes in once a month, looks around, and leaves again], is the whipped cream. The sound of it and the little pattern it makes just itches a scratch. 

You smile as you finish the swirl, which sinks into the cup of espresso shots and caramel milk. You spin around, “now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh…”   

“Is it that sweet? I guess so,” you hum under your breath, and ducking the spray bottle Lou Ellen launches over your head, you stick a straw in the cup and walk to the bench, where Will’s serving the man with three purse dogs a jelly donut. 

Leo’s digging through his bag while you wait, not bothering to rush him and leave the 24/7 rip off starbucks diner empty. 

You pick up the pen and take the lid off with your teeth, doodling a little cat on the blank bit of the cup. The tail comes out all wrong, and one of the whiskers slides halfway around on the plastic with a scratchy sound. 

You add rushed fairy wings to its soft looking back, and hand the cup over as Sabrina Carpenter sings about being a singer. Her voice is so pretty. Like caramel. “There you go.”

Leo grinned at you, and while you watched in absolute horror, proceeded to pour an entire monster energy drink he’d pulled from his tote bag into the perfectly made coffee. 

“Excuse me?” you whisper shrieked. 

He blinked at you owlishly, and you tried not to notice how warm his eyes looked in the vintage yellow lights of the shop that made everything seem seventies. “What?”

“That’s enough caffeine and chemicals to give a water buffalo a heart attack,” you said, pointing at his awful concoction. It started to fizz. You wondered if the building had chemical reaction insurance.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Leo shrugged, and picked up his cup happily. He looked down at it, and a grin split across his face. “I got a drawing!”

»»————-　★　————-««

It was only a few days later when the bell rattled quietly by the door and you looked up to see Leo and smiled despite yourself, fingers tapping on the cup in your hand, wear the ring you’d made from that paperclip sat, did you realize what role he would play in your heart shaped ice-cubes Sabrina Carpenter soundtracked paperback books late night set ballpoint pen sitcom.

The love interest. 

»»————-　★　————-««

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi!! I am in love with your writing for Tom and Bill, literally lol. I was wondering if you could write something for Bill with a mom!reader that has a son and how he would be? (If your not comfortable writing it, it’s ok lol I’m know some people aren’t!!)

(aw, this is actually cute! Sorry if this isn't what you wanted but I tried! Anyways, enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Mom Reader

When he first started to get to know you and found out you had a kid

He was pretty surprised

He'd ask why and how you had them and when you explained, he'd be pretty nonchalant about it

He's seen way worse things before in life

A kid his age with a kid is not the worst thing possible

But when he started to date you, he got a bit nervous

If the dad isn't involved, he wouldn't know what to do really

He'd be polite around the kid but he wouldn't want to overstep boundaries

If the kid actually started getting attached to Bill, so would he a little bit

It would just take time because Bill doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable

But he would be really great with the kid though

Like he'd play with them, feed them and even annoy you with them all the time

Carrying the baby down the street all the time while with you

Paparazzi has gotten quite a few photos of Bill having your son on his shoulders, carrying him or you and him holding each of his hands while walking

Your son would probably be dressed like Bill a lot

It's called fashion

Your son actually loves it though

Looks up to Bill and finds him extremely cool

He doesn't quite get that Bill is famous though

He had to have it explained to him the best he could comprehend that Bill was pretty well known

But it makes your son proud Bill chose to be there for him and you when he didn't have to be

If you ever felt bad about Bill being "dragged" into your son's life, he'd put a stop to it

He loves your son and you and he's happy and content with how things are

Would keep your son however long you need

The band actually liked having the little guy around

Toms teaching him curse words with Georg

Gustav puts hats on him and is probably the favorite uncle of your son

Your son is now the mascot of the band

Is probably taken on stage a lot of times by Bill when he is able to hold him on stage

Your son has screamed into the mic a lot but it's okay

Tom uses your son to get women's attention at times

Why not pay attention to a cute little baby?

Gustav let your son sit on his lap and go ham on the drums a bit one time when he could and your son loved it

Your son messes up Georgs hair from time to time

Georg has no choice but to comply

All and all, Bill loves you and the little guy very much

I think it all started back when paparazzi flooded you guys and Bill got angry at them

They were shoving cameras in you and your son's face and your kid began to cry

Bill got a bit overprotective and picked up your son as pushes through them all, holding your hand as ur kid cried into his neck

Your son has been attached to him by the hip ever since

"(Name)! Get your kid!" Tom yelled, your son laughed as he jumped over and under tables as the band tried getting him.

"No can do." You laughed, watching Tom try to grab your son but miss horribly, bumping into Georg as sending him into the wall.

"Hey! (S/n)! I'll give you the hat, just calm down!" Gustav yelled as your son almost tipped over his bass drum as he weaved through.

"Woah!" Bill yelled, opening the door to find the room in complete chaos as his friends and brother ran around to catch him as you laughed on the couch.

"Bill!" You son yelled through his missing front tooth, running through Tom's legs with his hands up to greet Bill.

"Seriously?!" Gustav yelled, leaning onto Georg almost on the floor as Bill smiled and picked your son up.

"What's going on?" Bill asked as (S/n) played with the necklace he made for Bill, Bill looked around the chaotic room with a smile.

"He got sugar." Tom bluntly stated, flopping on the couch and trying to catch his breath.

"He just missed Bill." You shrugged, smiling at Tom's exhaustion as you messed up his dreads, getting your hand swatted away.

"Did you miss me?" Bill asked in a soft voice to your son, smiling as he tickled your son's stomach and got a laugh in response.

"It seems you did." Bill laughed, your son's shrieks of laughter echoing as he tried to escape Bill's grasp and back to you.

"Back to mom we go." Bill walked over to you, sitting on your right before letting your son go with a final tickle.

Your son giggled, climbing onto your lap as you accepted him happily, smiling up at Bill from his head hidden in your neck.

Days like these may be chaotic, but Bill would always take them with an open heart and a smile.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Giving You A Mani-Pedi! 💅

A friend of mine is from another country/culture and we ended up talking about mani pedis. I helped translate them, and I got to learn about their culture and how they view them. It was cute and wholesome! So it inspired this. ((Also it’s called projecting because when you are in a wheelchair you get self conscious, and also can’t get mani’s because of needing to roll and self conscious about pedi’s because of surgical scars

William ‘Bill’

As the eldest, you just develop a lot of skills. Especially when the baby girl of the family needs female support. As the designated ‘man with long hair’ he was the one to help her with polish a lot. So he would know what he’s doing, but would also want to keep them practical to. He would give you nails that would be simple, clean, but with top coats. Making sure they last, so you can enjoy them. He also gives you the full wash deal. He knows better than anyone. Also, he is 100% the grunge type to always have his nails painted black. He’s just the grunge aesthetic king. Black nails are his favorite. If you ask him to paint you little moons and stars on your fingers and toes, he will try his best. They always turn out stunning. Curse breakers have to have a steady hand after all.

Charlie

Hope you like nails that can stab a bitch. He has worked with dragons for so long, you’ll either end up with nails so flat you’ll never get anything done. Or nails so sharp you can use them for cutting the stems off flowers. Sharp, or dull. No inbetween. Hope you like dull toe nails and vampire finger nails. He is also a bit messy with the paint. That’s what cleaning spells, and cotton balls, are for anyway. He’s gonna paint them red every time, hope you know that. He himself doesn’t wear nail polish, because it’s never gonna last long anyway. He did, however, always join in with painting sessions with Ginny. He’s a good older brother!

Percy

He feels it’s to ‘femmine’ and just has an overly traditional view. So never expect him to sport anyway. He does, however, know how to care for his nails. He takes hygiene very seriously, so he would be happy to help keep your nails presentable. Cleaned, nail beds worked on, trimmed, and a transparent top coat to help keep them looking presentable. If he’s in the mood, a French tip will be on the menu. He just doesn’t care, beyond keeping them cleaned. His Percy, what else did you expect?

Fred and George

They are going to have fun with it. It’ll be messy, but it’s going to be so much fun doing it with you. Fred more than happy to do so, and will even ask you to do his. Same for George. They are twins, they love to be cliche and do matchies or complimentary in some fashion. Fred is the messier of the two, while George is able to be more neat and thoughtful. Definitely will work your toes, while Fred works your hands. Expect wild colors, and fun designs. Like glitter hearts, with little beads on them. They wanna have fun with it! They also have their nails painted, typically orange and purple in some fashion. They also love doing gel stuff for meetings, and business events. It’s fashion, and colors. They are the Weasley Twins. Gender conformity? I hardly know her!

Ron

He has no idea what he is doing, please send this man some help. He doesn’t know the difference between gel, and a top coat. He’s mixing the colors, he’s gotten it on his clothes, HERMIONE HELP-! He’s trying his best, but he just has no clue. You’ll need to teach him alot, but he’s willing to learn! He does think it’s neat that you can have a ‘theme’ with your nails. Like paint them as the color of your favorite quidditch team. That’s what gets him on board. Your nails are gonna get so sloppy, but hey. Who hasn’t had sloppy nails? A lot of it will end up being you painting his nails. You are allowed to get more creative with his toes, since less people will see them. Baby steps.

Ginny

The girl of the hour. As a kid, she liked it alot. Helped her stand out against her brothers. Now? She has her own style. Given she’s a Quidditch star, it can be rather rough on the hands. She does, however, really enjoy the subtle styles. Like transparent glitters. That’s her favorite. Just a touch of magic, if you will. She would love to have you more of her model, of what she can do. Have you wear all the fun things she can’t. Like making ombré’s, and tiny designs. It’s a really great way to bond. It helps her with her connection with feminine side. It can be hard. Being raised by six boys, but also genuinely being a Tom Boy. Makes you have a weird connection to what makes a ‘girl a girl.’ So this helps her feel that connection. She loves it. A wonderful way to spend her time with you.

[thedeviltohisangel]

omg maybe some soft angst bcs evelyn overworks herself and callum is so worried

For A Fortnight There We Were:

A LITTLE ONE SHOT SINCE YOU ALL SEEM FERAL FOR THEM AND I LOVE IT AND ENCOURAGE IT

tw: mentions of drug use/addiction

"Hi everyone, I'm Evelyn Shaw, and I'm so happy to finally be introducing you to the new Dior Addict Lip Glow Oil." She held the tube to her lips and pressed a cheeky kiss to the side. "It's infused with cherry oil which nourishes my lips after long days on set and even longer nights on the romantic streets of Paris."

"Cut! Let's reset and run again." Evelyn yawned as the camera turned off then looked up as her makeup artist approached with an eye pencil.

"Do I look as shitty as I feel?" Now in London, she had been in Paris this morning, finishing fittings for fashion week, The Hague three days ago for an engagement on behalf of the United Nations Women's Conference and she was due back on set for House of the Dragon by the end of the week.

"No. You look glossy and juicy," Nicole teased.

"Let me get some spray on the fly aways." Ev closed her eyes as her hair stylist spritzed a toothbrush and brushed it over her hair.

"Have we heard anything from Callum yet?" She was headed straight to a meet and greet at the Dior store in Mayfair after this before she had just enough time to change for the launch dinner she was hosting as the newly minted Global Ambassador for Dior Beauty.

"Mark was on the phone finalizing your filming schedule for next week so it didn't conflict with your brother's graduation so I'll flag him when he gets back," Nicole offered.

She hadn't seen Callum in almost a week. There were unanswered texts and calls and a red circle on her FaceTime app.

Evelyn felt awful about it but her first trip for work since the pandemic was proving to have more of a strain on her relationship than she thought it would. She was used to using work to distract herself from her ex-husband and saying yes to everything so she didn't have to be at home. Now, with Callum, that was all she wanted to do. And she knew it was perfectly in her control to change it but she couldn't find the right way to convince her brain this man was different.

"Alright, Evelyn, let's do more sultry than cute this time." She shook the fog from her mind and stared down the camera.

"Hi everyone, I'm Evelyn Shaw, and I'm going to let you on my secret for endlessly kissable lips..."

----

She kept her sunglasses on as she stepped out of the car and let the screams and camera clicks wash over her. She blew kisses and waved as her security ushered her into the store and the door closed behind her with a sigh. Evelyn made an extra effort to shake the hand of all the staff that were in the store and hugged the handful of Dior executives that she had gotten to know during the process of launching the lip oil.

"Ev, let's get some candids of you looking at the new collection over here." Bleary eyed, she slowly rifled through the racks as her stylist took a few photos.

"Hey, Mark?" she called for her assistant as everyone made final preparations before opening the doors. "Do we have any..." she brushed her finger over the tip of her nose, asking for a hit.

"I do, but you were going to stop now that you got out of that relationship, right?"

"Yeah but I'm about to fall over and just need to get through tonight and I'll be fine." They had done this song and dance with her and cocaine before. The habit stopped and started in fits. "A pinky nail. That's all I'm asking for."

"Not here, Ev. Go to the dressing room and I'll bring it back." She kissed his cheek and headed to the back, reapplying her lipstick and fluffing her hair before pacing around the room for a few laps. Finally, there was a knock at the door.

"Fucking finally, Mark, I'm-" She opened the door and it wasn't Mark. "Cal."

"It's been a minute, Ev. You pick up on old habits while you were gone?" He wasn't sure if she had read his message or listened to his voicemails since she'd left. They had gotten increasingly desperate so he hoped she hadn't. But if she was using again, it was no wonder she wasn't responsive.

"No." Her lip quivered. "I'm just exhausted, Callum." Hiding away with him wasn't an option anymore. The safety of his bed wasn't an option anymore.

"There's other ways for us to fix that. Ways that don't involve you pushing me away and letting those vultures back into your life." She fell into a chair and dropped her head into her hands.

"Everyone wants a piece of me and I don't have enough to go around." There were legal battles over dividing assets. Magazines and podcasts that spent their time speculating on the true reason behind her failed marriage and spending hours and pages devoted to convincing someone, anyone, that Callum was a controlling manipulator who had tricked her into cheating with him for status. Photographers who lined every street she walked and yelled obscenities and tried to snag a shard of her broken soul. "You're my drug, Callum. You make the voices stop when I'm with you. But I can't always be with you."

"But that's why we learn how we communicate best. We call or we text or send each other dumb photos to make it feel like we are always with each other." He sat down on the floor in front of her and put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm right here, Ev. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not him."

"I'm sorry I didn't call. I wanted to. I just didn't know what to say." For all the benefits quarantining together had offered for their relationship, it had also introduced certain complexities. Introduced reliance and dependencies and they hadn't learned how to be apart. Let alone how to be successful at it. "I'm still getting used to things being normal. To having you as part of my normal."

"I'm sorry I didn't come find you sooner."

"Promise you'll always find me? Even when I'm just lost in my own head?" He kissed her forehead.

"Especially then, Evvie."

[writing-whump]

Can't say no

Seline takes Isaiah to visit her parents. Isaiah can't say no and overeats on the food.

Isaiah waited for months to be invited to meet Seline's parents.

He instinctively knew it would be a big deal, change, and milestone. Something special.

Seline loved her parents. It was the kind of idyllic, loving, intimate relationship that he didn't see that much around, like a fairy tale.

So when she casually invited him to spend a weekend at her parents' for her mother's Name's Day. Isaiah almost choked on his coffee.

"What? Mom wanted to meet you for a long time already. And everyone is going to be home for grandma, so my brother and dad should be up and about too." She didn't look at him, putting her plate into the dishwasher. Meaning she knew exactly how special that moment was.

Maybe it was good that she announced it a day beforehand; otherwise, he would have spent the week stressing about it.

"Any tips or something I should watch out for?" he asked tentatively.

When they got into his car the following day on Friday afternoon.

Seline gave him an excited smile. "My parents are going to love you, don't worry." She leaned back in the seat for the about hour-long car ride to Bratislava. "They better do, otherwise I can't date you."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm just saying if my parents don't like you, we can't be together," she said with a cheerful smile. "I know it sounds old-fashioned, modern pairs like to rebel against everyone's approval...but my mom will see right through you and dad will be quick to judge and my brother got taller this year too, so." Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, but he could tell it wasn't just teasing. There was something anxious and serious about that statement too. She really wanted this to work out.

Isaiah swallowed heavily, starting the car.

"They are the smartest most amazing, selfless people I know. Great judges of character. And they have been together since they were 18, so longer than not by now." She gave him a quick smile. "But you don't have to worry. They will love to have you."

Until they don't, he thought bitterly. This was actually even more serious than he realized.

This was a test.

Seline already made up her mind about how she felt about him, so now she wanted to see if she hadn't missed anything.

She put the music from her playlist on. It was the playlist she kept for him instead of the collection of songs they both liked. Must have been feeling a little guilty about scaring him in advance.

Isaiah steeled himself for the ride and the meeting. He would not fail her expectations—or theirs. If anything, he was good at pulling his best act together in stressful situations, and this one asked for full power investment.

The place was technically a village but connected to the capital city by a highway. It was more of a district than a village since the city was expanding in record time. But it was surrounded by sunflower and wheat fields and had the distinct small-town feel of one family-owned cake shop, one playground, one kindergarten, and one primary school with exactly one church. There were also lots of pathways through the fields and around them for bicycles.

This wasn't a bad place for wolves. Open space is just the right combination of chaos and nature with steady big houses with long gardens and high walls for a fence. Great way to make a wolf feel at home.

The Silverstein house wasn't the most beautiful or renovated one on the street, with a dark violent roof and wild bushes at the entrance. Isaiah would soon find out the comfort and beauty were reserved for the inside of the house instead of the front, since they didn't need jealous neighbours to make their life complicated.

Entering the fenced garden felt like a different world. It had a touch of everyone in it. The fleck of ground with herbs for the mother, the freshly cut grass and holes for golfing of the father. And the volleyball net and boxing bag hanging from the old walnut tree that was almost ripping the garage out of the ground.

Seline's parents were human. Isaiah knew this, but it still surprised him to sense their complete fragile humanity as they came to greet him.

Another complication was that they didn't speak German and only broken English. This excluded Isaiah from most conversations, though Seline's father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with elegant long fingers and nose, made his best effort to keep Isaiah engaged in a conversation.

It seemed to put Seline's mother at ease, cause she chatted her daughter's ears off in Slovak as she assigned her a salad to prepare.

Isaiah definitely needed to learn that language.

He was left watching everything from the table, offering to help peel the potatoes and cut the cucumber. The giggling told him they were talking about him.

At lunch, Seline well into full translation mode, explaining him everything anyone said or translating direct questions and Isaiah’s answers. This allowed Isaiah to think through everything he said carefully and watch the pair's expressions.

Seline's mother looked a lot like her. She had the same lion mane of blond hair, though with a little hawkish nose. Her blue eyes were a greener shade than Seline's, and she had a sober alertness to them in contrast to Seline's dreamy softness.

Isaiah had not pulled his shadow up once. It was dormant and steady at his feet. Human shaped the entire time, as was polite. He was pleased with the question from her father about whether he was really a wolf.

The family created a whole feast for him to eat. First, ham and cheese rolls shaped like snails, then grilled stakes of two kinds, very tasty livers, and three kinds of salads.

He could tell these people did everything deliberately, confidently, and with consideration. They made a well-synched team, completely tuned to each other.

He just couldn't really tell whose idea it was to serve so much food.

It reminded him of the happier days, though, when his mother still lived. Watching her lean against his father in the kitchen, playful taking his hand, or him spinning her to a radio song playing in the background. It was all so very happy until it ended. But here, it seemed, good endings existed.

The mother or father got him a new portion whenever he finished his plate. The father selected best pieces of grilled meat, sensitive he tried all parts. The mother kept adding his salads, so he had all three kinds at all times.

Despite the two barriers, maybe third if Seline's brother Dylan joined the party, Isaiah felt welcome. He felt like he was passing in these people's eyes and the more he listed to their translations, their business background, their thoughts behind getting their kids into schools in a state they didn't even speak the language of, their goals and dreams for the near future, their pride at their daughter's accomplishments - the more he liked them.

He was starting to be a little nervous about the constant flood of food.

How did they still have so much to left? He cleared his third serving of the meat and salad, hoping that would be it. His stomach was straining against his pants and he was more than grateful for wearing a bottom-up that hid the growing bulge. He had not eaten this must in years.

And then when they came with dessert. Two kinds. One chocolate pie and one creamy cake.

The cake was one that Seline made and the pie was the mother's special generational recipe. No way Isaiah could get out of eating both.

The mother scrutinised him the whole time. He barely stopped himself from tugging at his collar. He was overheated, and his lips hurt from all the smiling.

Some relief came with the afternoon coffee and Seline showing him where they would be staying. In her father's bedroom upstairs.

"I can't believe you ate all that," she said to him as they got their bags up the stairs. "My brother eats a ton right now, so mom thought she needed to prepare a lot to satisfy a wolf. What do you think? How do you like them?"

She had such an eager, open expression Isaiah had to smile. He was starting to understand how this situation came to be. A growing pup with an unsteady shadow definitely ate a lot. Apparently, her parents thought a grown wolf would actually need more.

He should have stopped that sooner instead of eating food for a whole party of people. His stomach wasn't hurting yet, but it was heavy and swollen, digestion completely overloaded as his gut tried to make sense of all the food he shoved into it.

"That's very kind of them," he said, sort of touched and horrified at his own predicament. He could feel pressure over his chest as burps tried to make their way up. He pushed them down decisively.

"What is the plan now?"

"Dad will play some golf, and I'll help mom with the kitchen. Then we could watch a movie. There is one I really want to show you that my parents really love. It's a Czech classic about a grandmother rising against a corrupt major. It's hilarious and scarily accurate." She winked at him, excited at the prospect. You can come with me or take some rest, and I'll call you."

Isaiah nodded gratefully, relieved to have a minute alone.

Seline left him with a goodbye kiss, bouncing on her heels as she walked.

The day was a success then.

The burp he pushed down came back with a vengeance, his belly twisting with a cramp.

Isaiah leaned against the cupboard for support, bending down in the middle. He was sweaty and breathless, his stomach still heavier and heavier as it caught up with its state.

He let out a couple of quiet burps, wincing at how they echoed over the room. Her father's room. God, this was entirely inappropriate.

Going through his pack, he couldn't find any shirts or pants that would be more loose-fitting. He went all formal with suits and bottom-ups. He only got his PJs as anything close to comfort, and he couldn't exactly get into those in the middle of the day.

Isaiah went to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. That felt a little better, but the perspiration still clung to his neck and back. Maybe he could risk a shower.

Bracing over the sink ushered in a few more loud burps, which had him pressing his hand to his lips. The bathroom was right opposite the stairs, much more likely to carry the sound down.

He wrapped an arm around his stomach gingerly. Please, be nice. Don't make this harder.

His belly gurgled unhappily and he felt the salad mixing with the cake. He heaved over the sink at the horrid taste, willing himself not to throw up. That would be entirely disrespectful to the food.

He groaned quietly as his stomach settled back, churning angrily. The heaviness and pressure made it hard to stand upright. A dull but deep ache joined in, crawling up the top of his belly.

Isaiah made his way back to the bedroom. The fresh scent of the sheets on the bed and the lingering presence of Seline's father made him feel entirely gross and unfit to be here. Like he was intruding.

He followed his nose and instinct out to the other room.

The walls were painted a soft pastel blue and covered in shelves straining under books. There was an old TV with a new Chromecast set, a writing table, a small couch, a bean bag and a double bed. A room of one person who liked to change positions while reading.

Seline's childhood bedroom. Not even that long ago, it was still her main room.

The scent of rain and grapefruit drew him to the bed that had way too many pillows, big and small and two covers, cause she liked to use one to lift her head up when reading.

He fell face first into the familiar, beloved scent. His stomach let out an angry growl at being disturbed, so he had to roll onto his back quickly.

There was swirling nausea trailing behind the dull aching, his stomach swollen and taunt. Unmoving and heavy as if filled with cement.

He muffled a groan against his arm, looking around to distract himself with the pictures. Family photographs mixed with paintings of stormy sea waves in various shades of blue. On the doorframe, there was a series of magnets from different destinations.

Isaiah cradled his belly with his hands carefully. How was he supposed to be presentable, when they called him for the movie? He didn't know how he would even get up.

...

"Isaiah? Where are you?"

Isaiah groaned quietly at Seline's voice, informing her of his presence in her room.

Seline opened the door with a puzzled frown. "Baby? Is something wrong?"

Isaiah considered lying. He really didn't want to ruin this visit or her day or her parents' impression of him. But his stomach was gurgling and pulsing with pain and he just wanted...wanted her.

He turned to his side, arms protectively around his midsection without touching.

Must have made a miserable expression, because she crouched down next to the bed, stroking his cheeks. "You don't have a fever...do you feel sick? If you felt sick before and didn't tell me, Isaiah, I swear-"

Yep, that was a worse option. "No- I just-uuuurp-ate too much." He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling greasy with sweat. "I wouldn't come visit your parents if I felt sick, come on," he said defensively, though it came out more as a whine.

This was so humiliating. A stomach flu he could survive, because he could do nothing against it. But this? This was entirely his fault and he felt amazingly stupid for it.

Her eyes widened. "Aww sweetie, I'm sorry. Your tummy is upset?"

He nodded, pressing the side of his face into the pillows. "I'm fine, just...think I could just sleep it off and be all good tomorrow- think you could find an excuse-"

"Yes, of course. That's no problem. Sweetie, mom has really good enzymes for indigestion and the herbal drops or I can make you fresh mint tea-"

He shook his head at the idea of putting anything into his stomach. It already felt like he was going to pop, skin strained at the top. "Please, don't tell your parents," he begged quietly.

"Oh baby, come on. They wouldn't be mad. There is nothing to it. Wouldn't it be worth it, if it helped with the pain? Just give me a minute and I'll-"

When she tried to stand up, he grabbed her by the wrist. "Please. Please?"

Seline frowned in disapproval, eyes blazing, but he must have looked pitiful enough. She sighed. "Okay. You are an idiot, though. Is there anything I can do?"

Isaiah let out a relieved sigh that almost morphed into a burp, curling more into himself. "I'm fine. Go watch the movie."

She shook her head. "You are such a dumbass sometimes."

He blinked at the words, mildly offended.

Seline walked behind him, shuffling in her wardrobe. "I have some oversized shirts here that could fit you. Let's get you out of that shirt, okay?"

He watched her in confusion as she got out a really oversized woolen shirt for him, then sat down on the edge of the bed, unceremoniously unzipping his pants.

"What are you- Ohhhh." The relief from the pressure almost made him dizzy, his stomach bubbling at having more space.

"Yep," she said with a half-smile, pulling his pants down completely so he was only left in his boxers. "Dumbass, as I said."

"M not," he groaned, not feeling like being teased, the embarrassment leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He struggled with the bottoms before stripping the shirt off over his head and sliding into the offered one. Not bothering with the buttons at all, he lied back down.

Seline opened the balcony and promptly climbed under the covers with him, spooning him from behind. She kissed the back of his neck, her arm coming over his head on the pillow to pet the hair on his forehead.

Isaiah cringed at how sweaty and disgusted he must have been to her, but he couldn't help melting under her touch. Her gentle fingers on his face were the most enjoyable sensation of the day.

With her face pressed into his back as she curled his slightly wavy hair around her fingers, she asked: "Would a belly rub help?"

He considered the question, too far gone in how grumbly and achy his stomach was to give in to the other mortified part of his brain. He rolled to his back, his belly sloshing with the movement as it pressed against her.

She chuckled softly. One hand was still up in his hair, stroking a line from his temple to his cheek. The other came to rest gently on top of his packed stomach. Tentative. Gentle.

When he arched his back into her touch, she put more weight on it. She felt around his stomach with her fingers, then started to rub gentle circles under his ribs. Long strokes going clockwise from his right side of the abdomen to his left side and down.

Isaiah squirmed under her hands as his stomach grumbled loudly, a series of bubbles making their way up. He struggled against the air.

Seline gave him a look, thumping his chest. That ushered up a loud burp. He gasped for air, blood rushing into his face. "I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing. How else is it supposed to help? You got too much air trapped in your tummy. I can feel it."

Isaiah shifted in discomfort, cheeks on fire. He pressed his forehead against the crook of her neck.

Seline returned to the broad, gentle strokes over the bulge. Isaiah didn't fight the next burp that came up, hiding his face out of view as the hot air clashed against her collarbone. She chuckled softly, kneading into the flesh. "It's okay, sweetheart. This will help."

She truly didn't seem to mind, pressing against him like that, even giving a little kiss to the back of his head she could reach.

His stomach groaned unhappily, but his muscles relaxed. The tautness gave into softness under her touch, and he could feel the heaviness moving downward, with each new bubbly burp creating more space.

He turned back on his back as a truly big pressure worked its way up his throat, cupping his mouth. A long, rumbly belch came up, muffled by his hand.

"Feeling better?" she asked, rolling closer. Her chin came to rest on his shoulder and she wrapped one hand around his neck and the other on his stomach.

He nodded against her, not trusting himself to speak, but he didn't feel so packed and tense anymore. "I'm sorry, that was so gr-"

"Don't even say it," she cut him off resolutely. "I forbid such lies." She nuzzled her cheek against his.

Isaiah breathed out in relief, bringing her closer with his arm around her neck. His midsection was still swirling, but it was a much more peaceful, harmonic sound.

He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes. It was surprisingly tiring to eat so much, but this was actually...nice. Comforting.

Three words insistently pressed themselves to his mind: He loved the way this girl smelled, the way she could make him feel better, her touch, her eyes. Her voice. Her body against his.

I love this girl so much.

His heart sped up at the thought and he held her tighter, not saying anything. Not yet anyway.

[sadesluvr]

Lemon Relationship HC’s (GN!/SFW)

Unlike Tangerine, who I find to be more shippable with both a civilian and assassin s/o, I think Lemon would prefer you to be a civilian!

Given his nature of work he just wants something in life to be simple, and that’s you

But if you ever want to date him you HAVE to go through Tangerine first, regardless of gender

They’re literally like a father/daughter here:

“Tangerine…You’re scaring them, mate.”

“I better fucking hope so. Rats are everywhere, y’know, gotta weed them out…What’re your intentions with my brother?”

“Did you just call my partner a rat?”

Tan is low-key a hater but it’s all a joke. He’s very happy for Lemon above all:

“Tangerine…I’ve met someone.”

“We meet people all the time.”

“No, like a relationship. I’m dating. They call me their Lemon-drop.”

“Well that’s too fucking good to be true, ain’t it?”

‘Lemon-drop’ starts off as a jokey nickname but he grows to love it

In the early stages of your relationship he’s a bit clueless, he doesn’t really ‘know’ what you want so he seems a bit disinterested/awkward/neglectful

He took you to a train museum on the first date. He didn’t stop yapping but all you were thinking was ‘I like this autistic man 😌’

Eventually Tangerine has to step in and give him tips on ‘how to be romantic’

He becomes more attentive from then, even when it seems like he’s not! He might struggle with certain situations/emotions, but he’s always got a Thomas episode to recommend if he can’t verbalise it

Thomas marathons, but cartoons/animation in general!! Doing it in your PJ’s with a bowl of cereal like kids, or after little baking something together/ordering takeout

FOREHEAD KISSES! He loves it when you fall asleep on his shoulder, and you’re in each-others arms…Kiss him back so he always feels special <3

He gives the best kisses btw. They’re always so tender

Shopping together - Not just Thomas merch but clothes too (remember his new tie?). He’s very fashionable and he’s going to ask your opinion on everything

MATCHING DENIM JACKETS/TIES

His love language is somewhere in between quality time, physical touch and words of affirmation. The Bolivia job really got to him, and sometimes he needs to remember that he’s safe and present

He doesn’t really like pets, but he can be pretty chill with a cat. They can sense his warm aura :)

He has photos of you on his phone, and physical copies for when he’s away on missions. He calls/texts every night to let you know he’s okay

He likes being the little spoon! Especially during the times where you actually get to spend a night together

Lemon NEVER forgets an anniversary. Like ever. 1 week, 1 month, 1 year and beyond, he’s texting you at the exact time when it happened and spends the day making sure it’s perfect!!

At the start of your relationship, he’s an impulse buyer. He gets you everything you might like, but over time he’s learnt the specifics. He still wants to give you the world though

[iboatedhere]

Heya! If you are still taking prompts then FirstPrince sailboat AU please? 😁⛵

Or garden hose if that's already been suggested! 🌞

If you so fancy ❤️

A little F1 AU?

---

Henry leans against the railing on the lower deck. He looks down at the dark water and watches the lights dance across it. 

It’s past midnight, but Port Hercule is wide awake. Yachts packed in like sardines in a tin, music blasting, beats and lyrics mixing together and creating a jumbled mess of noise. People are talking and singing in French, English, German, and Italian, and there’s a splash as something or someone hits the water, followed by raucous laughter. The smell of burnt rubber, high-octane fuel, and grease still lingers in the air, mixing with the heavy scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder from celebratory post-race fireworks.

Henry would rather be anywhere else, like behind a door that locks. Without people knocking for autographs or photos. Without women offering things he’s never been interested in. 

He wants to go home to his little cottage on the outskirts of London, where there’s plenty of room for David to run and no cameras, reporters, or team principals. 

He just needs a moment of peace, and the little bubble he’s created here will have to do.  

“Henry…”

Henry closes his eyes as the bubble bursts, and Alex’s footsteps echo down the stairs.  

“Someone said you went this way,” Alex says as he steps onto the deck, an entire bottle of champagne in his hand. 

He’s in a suit, jacket on but shirt unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest. Henry’s seen him in this fit more than in his fireproofs. 

The suit is high-end, of course, and every designer is clamoring to dress him. He’s been on the cover of more fashion magazines than Henry can count. They’ve been popping up in his caravan, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Bea is to blame. 

“Remind me to have that person fired,” Henry says dryly. 

“You can’t fire Cash,” Alex says. “I’d be sad.” 

“God forbid.”

Alex laughs, loose and easy, drunk and happy. 

That’s the whole point, that Alex is happy. 

Alex is everything Mercedes wanted Henry to be. Alex fills in the gaps where Henry fell short. 

Henry wants to race; that’s all he’s ever wanted, but Alex is here to perform. 

Alex is vibrant and outgoing. He’s good on camera and in interviews. He is intelligent and funny, with zero reservations about letting everyone know it. He brings attention and new viewers to the sport, dating this hot, young starlet or that rising pop star. 

F1 sponsors want to pay him, men and women want to be with him, and Henry…Henry just wants him. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know exactly what there is for me to celebrate.” 

“Umm, hello,” Alex says, gesturing to himself with his free hand. 

Above all else, Alex is good at racing, having come in first or at least on pole in the last five out of seven races. 

“Congratulations to you on your win,” Henry says as Alex takes a long swig from the bottle, tipping his head back as it spills down his chin and neck. 

Henry’s knuckles go white on the railing. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to celebrate my own performance.”

“Okay, first of all,” Alex says, pressing the bottle into Henry’s hand and gesturing for him to drink. “We’re a team, so my win is your win—don’t fucking roll your eyes at me—and P6 is nothing to get upset about. You’re in points. That matters.”

“You should tell my brother that.”

“I will. Is he here?”

Henry snorts. “This isn’t exactly my brother’s type of party. It’s not really my type of party, either.”

“Do you mean a fun one?”

“I’m fun,” Henry says as he playfully shoves at Alex’s shoulder. “I am, but this isn’t me.”

“It’s not me either,” Alex says, and Henry laughs. “Why is that funny?”

“Because it’s such a lie. You’re made for this.” 

“No, I’m just good at acting like I am. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I was raised–yachts, champagne, and women hanging off of me constantly, only using me for a photo op.” 

Henry wants to argue that that’s not him either, especially that last bit, but his father’s legacy looms too large, and Henry knows his privilege. 

“Well, I must say you’ve caught on very quickly. And I wasn’t raised on a yacht. It was a thirty-foot schooner.”

Alex laughs. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Henry’s fingers tap against the bottle as he pulls up fond memories of off-seasons spent out on the sailboat with his family. “My father taught me to sail when I was very young.”

“Was that before or after he taught you how to drive? Or was that just in your genes?”

“He taught me,” Henry says softly, pushing those memories back. 

Alex nods and doesn’t push. “Do you still have the boat?”

“Yes,” Henry says. “Docked at St. Katherine.”

“You should take me out sometime,” Alex says, soft and eyes locked on Henry, and Henry nearly drops the champagne bottle.

“If you’d like,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but the way Alex’s gaze drops to his lip lets Henry know he’s heard.