#house's little forehead mark is kind of a joke on how people put stars on leaders

[marc--chilton]

house and wilson. but they are cats. warrior cats, if you will,

(bases by googaoo!)

[whirlybirbs]

                                          (   gif from the lovely @starwarsfilms​.   )

---   LOVE SICK.   ;

summary: khairyn sar is an important holiday within nabirian religion -- it celebrates love and fertility. obi-wan gets a gift for you from the lower-level markets, aided by a helpful women who urges him to buy a certain plant...  pairing: obi-wan x handmaiden!reader, established in this fic & this fic as well. word count: 8k warnings: this is porn with a dash of sex pollen trope / nsfw, 18+ a/n: i am literally not even sorry. here’s a late valentine’s day piece for you all, my lovely lil valentines. pls don’t repost!

It’s a holiday.

Maybe not on Coruscant, but to the Naboo senators and delegates on Coruscant, it is. 

Padmé’s usual senatorial garb is exchanged for one of deep reds and a grandiose headpiece that mirrors the visage of Khairtai, the goddess of Fertility and Love. Beside her, Dormé, Sabé, Ellé and yourself bear a smudging of crimson down the center of your foreheads. It’s from the crushed millaflower -- ground into a fine, deep red powder and blessed by the resident royal Pontifex. 

Your outfits mirror Padmé’s, hair pinned back tightly into a tight, neat braids with a golden pin halo-ing your heads. It’s of religious significance; each comb bearing two bounding ash-rabbits. Symbols of fertility.

The Royal house of Naboo, namely the Amidala’s, are one of many devout to the Brotherhood of Cognizance -- a polytheistic, monastic, allegorical based religion. Padmé herself was a larger worshipper of Shiraya, the goddess of the moon; Obi-Wan, on more than one account, found himself rather enraptured with the large statue on the outside patio of her Senatorial apartment upon visits with his friend.

In the evening sunset, the goddess’ moon shaped harp frames the horizon quite perfectly. Obi-Wan always wondered if it was some sort of metaphor -- perhaps that Padmé was right where she needed to be, away from the throne and serving her people worlds away. 

She’d moved to Coruscant following the ending of her second term of Queen, promptly slipping into her elected position as Senatorial representative. With her, she’d brought Dormé, Ellé, Sabé, and you -- along with a small squad of royal guards. Though, Obi-Wan believed she hardly needed them. Padmé’s handmaidens were more than capable.

You were more than capable.

Obi-Wan, from the upper deck of the Senate’s session, can hardly tear his eyes away from you -- you look rather stoic beside the ex-Queen. You’d joked a few days ago to him that you needed to mind you expressions when some of the other Senators spoke. Obi-Wan bites back a chuckle when F’aralo Pxo from Ithor finally stops babbling and your awfully sour look fades. 

Crossing his arms, the young Jedi Knight watches as the session is dismissed by Sheev Palpatine and the large, cavernous room begins to dissipate of senators and delegates. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi catches you and the others on the sixteenth floor, about to enter Padmé’s apartment.

“Merry Khairyn Sar.”

He strides close, like a glimmering star flashing across the sunset. Handsome and bright-eyed -- you wonder if your heart will ever cease it’s crescendo of excitement when you see him. Your stomach flips and you can’t help but stare at the appearance of one certain Jedi Knight. 

The gaggle of women turn on their heels, their faces lighting up at the appearance of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your face, by far, is the brightest. 

“I only have a minute, but I thought I might come say hello.”

The two of you bite your tongues, amused little smirks threatening to bloom on your faces. It’s childish, but it’s lovely.

Padmé laughs happily at the sight of you both, moving to gesture for Obi-Wan to come in -- once inside the apartment, the Jedi is quick to loop his arms around your waist and haul you high; the reunion is short and sweet and brings smiles to the faces of your closest confidants as the move to spread throughout the apartment. Your earrings sway as you grapple with his shoulders, sliding down him when he places you back on the plush carpet carefully.

The others have known since... gods, what? Years ago? 

Before Anakin had even reached puberty and before Obi-Wan had started growing this beard out. You recall in this moment the first time you’d seen him since his diplomatic mission to Naboo, when you’d fallen in love with the kind-hearted Padawan, and how the others had been so keen on seeing the romance play out on the tarmac. 

They had, after all, read the correspondences the Jedi had sent in the time apart from one another. 

It’s been four years since -- and yet, the sickly sweet tempo of love is still enough to make your knees weak. Seeing him, though often enough now that you’re permanent residency is on Coruscant, is still enough to bring a needy whine to your heartstrings. 

“Don’t you have a Padawan to be minding?” you grin, kissing him quickly as he smiles. The prick of stubble tickles. 

“The younglings have a trip to the Archives today,” Obi-Wan explains, bowing slightly to chase your words with a kiss to your cheekbone, “But I do have a council meeting within the hour..”

You swat at his chest gently. “What have I said? Anakin is not a youngling. He’s fifteen --”

“Acts like it,” Padmé supplies, pointing at Obi-Wan who mirrors her amused-yet-trying-not-to-seem-it look, “I’ve heard the stories.”

“I’ll have greys because of him soon, I swear it.”

Another kidding swat. This time, the ruddy haired man catches it and laughs warmly. He holds your hand closely, kissing your knuckles. Your face grows hot as sheepishness creeps up your collar due to the semi-public display of affection.

“I have a gift for you,” he says quietly, eyes softening, “For Khairyn Sar.”

You should have known Obi would have figured out about the holiday.

He was a romantic -- charismatic about love and flirtatiously sweet. 

Of course a holiday celebrating love would be right up his alley. You hold your tongue -- you wonder if Obi-Wan truly understands the meaning of Khairyn Sar, or if to him, this is a just a small patronage holiday dedicated to romance. 

Khairyn Sar is an important holiday within Cognizance. Weddings and performative engagement ceremonies are large parts of the holiday, as well as... well, plainly put: conceptions. 

Nearly every devout Nabirian’s dream would be to conceive a child on Khairyn Sar. Those born within nine months of the day are said to be gifts from Khairtai herself, after all. Those with the blessed with being a Khairtai’é frequently found success within relationships, love, and careers. Fertility meant more than simply sex. 

Padmé is a Khairtai’é. She truly did have the making of a Queen.

Ellé speaks up from the couch, balancing her vibroblade on her fingertip effortlessly and watching you both. “...Obi-Wan, you do you have a brother?"

“Maybe a cousin?” asks Sabé, melodic and sweet, “A single cousin?”

“A sister, even,” Dormé croons, dropping her chin into her hand -- her voice goes a bit mopey, “I wish someone would bring me a gift for Khairyn Sar.”

It is akin to announcing your love to the world, after all. 

Obi-Wan offers one of his trade-mark smiles. The dimples beneath the blonde shadow of his beard are charming and Padmé can’t help but grin as he watches you blink up at him with a moonstruck look that says it all:

You love him.

“I’m afraid not,” he apologizes, hand gracing the small of your back, “Though, if I find any formidable suitors of the Royal Handmaidens of Naboo, I’ll make sure I let you all know.”

“You better,” Dormé swats at his shoulder as she passes by, hanging her cloak and grinning when the Jedi leans to swats her back.

In the last few weeks, he’s become a fast friend -- they’re all within the same age, and Obi-Wan had fallen easily into a brotherly cadence when it came to the girls; you trusted them all, and so, he did as well. Happily. He’d known them all briefly from the time him and Qui-Gon had on Naboo during the negotiations with the Trade Federation... Dormé, Sabé and Ellé had all been on the Nubian by your side when you’d first met the charming Padawan. 

“I’ve got to go,” he breathes, leaning to kiss the crown of your head, “Will I see you later?”

You nod, enjoying the warm pass of his fingers on your cheek. 

“Of course,” you promise, “Dinner?”

"Dex’s?”

You groan happily, bending a bit in the knees as you nod vigorously at the thought of fries and a shake. Not the most glamorous meal, but a favorite of you both and a safe haven from the Senate and Council. 

“Yes, please.”

Obi-Wan grins, tosses a wink, and sneaks out the door with a wave.

As soon as the door shuts, Dormé is quickly to speak.

“You better marry that man.”

“Someday,” a mindful smile, “For now --”

“For now,” Ellé points, “Please give that man a night worth remembering.”

“Ellé!” 

You scold your sister-in-duty with a sheepish look of modesty on your face, swatting at her as you fall beside her on the couch. The others laugh. 

If only you had any idea what was in store for both you and Obi-Wan. 

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

You meet him outside of Dex’s as the sun begins to set, happily falling into both his arms and the smell of fried food wafting from inside. It’s not often that you’re able to make the trek to the lower levels with him, and seeing the friendly Besalisk owner, Dexter Jettster, was a perk -- the four-armed man had always been kind to you. Fatherly, almost. 

He’s tenfold that with Obi-Wan. 

Dex happily supplies a hot plate of fries and two bantha burgers you and Obi’s way, free-of-charge. Dex mentions something about owing Obi-Wan for dealing with “those damn kids last week”. You raise a brow, taking a big bite of your burger, and Obi-Wan waves his hand.

“Street kids,” a shrug, “Pick-pocketing.”

“They stole the damn credit drawer!”

“Mm,” you mumble shaking your head at his uncanny ability to downplay every situation, “Always the humble hero, huh?” 

He nudges you with his boot as he laughs, dropping his gaze into his meal. You have a way of making him feel sheepish. It’s been years, but your words of flirtation still strike him in his composure. His cheeks are rosy when he looks up, wiping sauce from the corner of his beginning-beard. 

“You love it.”

��I do,” you waggle a fry in his face, spurring a breathless laugh from the Jedi, “Very much. So much, that I’m spending Khairyn Sar with you, in a diner, eating terrible food -- no offense, Dex... Says a lot, y’know.”

“None taken,” the cook calls out from behind the counter, “Merry Khairyn Sar, kid. Yer lucky, Obi-Wan! Those Naboo girls usually spend tha’ holiday with th’ man they’re set t’ marry --”

“Hear that,” you call, raising a finger and pinning Obi in his spot with an amused look as you both play-off your well-kept secret, “You’re lucky.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan clears his throat nudging your boot as you nudge it right back, “Aren’t I, Dex?”

“Sure are,” the Besalisk chortles, “If y’ weren’t a Jedi I’d say hurry up ‘n’ marry ‘er already!

Oh, if only he knew.

“Thanks, Dex,” you say sweetly, throwing an appreciative look the cook’s way, “And thanks for keeping this one in line.”

A big, guffaw of laughter meets your words and Dex hits the counter. “He’s trouble!”

“He is,” you shake your head, “He has everyone fooled. Everyone thinks he’s a flawless Jedi Knight, but he’s trouble. I’ve been saying it for years...”

Obi’s eyes crinkle with fondness. You mirror it.

“I love you,” he mouthes when Dex’s back is turned.

“I love you, too,” you mouth back.

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

You like Obi-Wan’s quarters.

They’re very him. 

Warm, quiet and neat. 

The room could be considered a bit small, but with a reasonable sized refresher and a large bed, you find no reason to complain. There are a few trinkets lining the shelves above his bed -- tokens of missions and trainings. 

Among them is a pebble from the beaches of the Lake Country; one he’d taken before leaving Naboo after the negotiations. You and him had spent hours on that beach, swimming and rolling in the sand, before things changed. Before Qui-Gon’s death and his rise to Knighthood. 

He doesn’t have many belongings, but so is the way of the Code.

His bedroom is a familiar space, now. You’ve spent many nights in this room, tucked beside him in the vanilla colored sheets. You wish it was every night. But, you both knew you needed to keep suspicions low. You were just thankful that Obi-Wan’s direct neighbor, Aayla Secura, was wise enough not to ask questions. 

The lights to his room are warm and low, illuminated strips of light coming from beneath the shelving -- the large bay windows that reach from floor to ceiling frame the colorful air-lanes illuminating the night sky of Coruscant’s Senate District. Like stars weaving a path, traffic moves slow across the horizon. 

Obi locks the door behind him before his hands find your waist and he drops a kiss to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through the layers of your cloak and dress, smiling as he fiddles with your hips and noses your ear. 

“Do you want to see the gift?”

You nod, chewing your lip and turning to catch him in a quick kiss. The Jedi leans in, putty in your hands. Obi-Wan makes an appreciative sound when you hold his jaw, pulling him over you as you bend back a bit. 

“Alright,” he says, a little breathless, before pecking another kiss, “Stay here.”

You do as your told, laughing as he takes two steps forward only to retreat back for another smile-laden kiss. He disappears into the walk-in closet; as he does, you strip your cloak from your shoulders and toss it on the bed. 

Obi-Wan returns, sans his own robe, clutching something behind his back.

You quirk a brow, noting the incredibly excited look plastered on his face.

“Close your eyes.”

“Obi-Wan,” you warn playfully as you do as your told, “If it bites --”

“It doesn’t bite.”

“I swear,” you outstretch your hands, palms up, eyes closed tight, “It it bites...”

He’s laughing. “It won’t bite!”

Suddenly, there’s a cool, heavy weight in your hands. It’s glass, you realize quickly, and as Obi-Wan smiles, you peel your eyes open and quickly sigh in awe.

“Obi...” the bouquet is large, with three or four different flowering bursts of color nestled inside a large vase, “It’s beautiful.”

You’re quick to move across the room, placing the bouquet down on his desk as he hovers, watching you tut over the flowers -- all of them Naboo natives, you realize with a slack jaw. Your whirl around, handing finding his chest. He smiles, dimples kissing his face.

“You didn’t have to --”

“Oh, hush,” he chides, hand sweeping a circle along your lower back as you bend and admire the plants with gentle hands, “I wanted to.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“I only wish...” a soft sigh as he leans forward and pokes at the stem of a deep purple plant that’s clasped shut tightly, “This one refused to bloom, it seems.”

In hindsight, you should have known better.

You should have known what was going to happen when you reached out and touched the plant the same time as him. You should have known a puff of pink pollen would come flying out, right into your face. You should have known the smell would make you gag and Obi-Wan do the same. 

You should have known. 

You stagger back, grabbing his arm.

“Oh gods --”

“Open a window.”

“What the hell was that thing, Obi?!”

You should have known.

“Open a window!” 

“It’s moving,” you screech, carrying the vase in outreached arms as your make a disgusted face and quite literally run to Obi-Wan who is throwing open the small window of his refresher, “Ohmygod, does it bite?!”

“I don’t care to find out!”

“It smells,” you choke, “It smells --”

“Give it to me --”

“What’re you -- Obi!”

Obi-Wan Kenobi, trained Jedi Knight and well-regarded rising leader within the Council’s tanks, promptly takes the bouquet from your hands and lobs it out the thirtieth story window of his quarters’ refresher in the Jedi Council building, vase and all, all while maintaining eye contact.

He quickly slams the window shut and drops his hands to his waist with a panicked look on his face. He looks pained, like he can hardly believe he just did that.

There’s a beat of silence as your mouth falls open, then you cry:

“...What was that thing?!”

“I don’t know!” he throws his hands as his agitation peaks, “The woman at the market said it was for Khairyn Sar -- she kept, gods, she kept saying it over and over --”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“... Obi.”

“... What do you mean ‘Obi’?” Obi-Wan’s voice nearly splinters, panic striking hard and fast across the Jedi’s face at the slow realization in your tone, “Don’t say -- don’t say ‘Obi’ like that -- You know it worries me, when you say --”

“Did she say Khairyn Sar,” you annunciate the syllables slowly, moving from the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the bed as you dot the sounds with your finger in the air, “Or, did she say Khaitai Rysar?”

Obi-Wan blinks.

“... Is there a difference...?” he pushes a hand through his hair as you drop your head back and groan; quickly he breathes out a sheepish mutter, “From the look on your face, there’s clearly a difference --”

“Khairtai Rysar is a plant -- named after the two god’s who... they... it’s... Oh my gods --” you drop your face into your hands, not bothering to tip-toe around the subject any longer, “You bought a sex plant, Obi-Wan!”

He blinks. His mouth moves but no words come out. His brows climbs his face. He tilts his head. The look is owlish and mildly terrified.

A pause.

“... Excuse me?”

His voice is an octave higher than usual.

“Khairtai Rysar is a plant from Naboo,” you squeak out, flopping backwards onto the bed and groaning, “It’s a gift typically given to newly weds. It’s got a pollen that acts as an powerful hypnotic aphrodisiac --”

"Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“-- When we touched it, it must have blossomed,” you barely manage, rubbing your face and sighing, “The spores are extremely potent. Any contact with them is...”

Obi-Wan’s face falls and when you pull your hands from your face, you see him staring at the spattering of pink pollen across your nose and cheeks. You shoot up straight before pulling away your hands and gawking, realizing you need to wash your hands right now because you’re covered in the pollen --

Quickly, you dash into the refresher as your curse when you see your now pinkish reflection and make work on scrubbing your face and hands. 

Obi-Wan had lucked out -- well, to a degree. The pollen had only caught him partially; cast off from when you’d staggered back and grabbed onto him. 

“Oh, this is horrible,” you mumble, washing your face with ice cold water and staring at him in the mirror, “Horrible, but hilarious -- stop looking like you’ve murdered me --”

“I feel horrible!” he cries, face pulled into an apologetic look, “Gods, I’m sorry --”

“Maybe we can... just... sleep it off?” you offer, wiping your face with a towel he offers, “Right? I mean, I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t anticipating us sleeping together anyways --”

Obi’s fiddling with the facial hair along his jaw, nodding as you speak. “Well, yes. Considering the holiday -- I’d planned for it.”

“I mean -- I feel fine,” you wave your hands, “Do you feel fine?”

“Yes,” he nods, sea-green eyes watching your expression, “I -- I feel fine.”

You’re both panicking. 

“Okay,” a little squeak, “So... let’s just... try -- try to sleep it off. For now.”

“And if we can’t?”

You hesitate. Both of you swallow.

“Let us cross that bridge when we get there,” Obi-Wan offers, sounding a bit pained, not even wanting to think about the answer to his own question. 

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

Neither of you can sleep.

It’s been about an hour since the entire debacle began.

You’re both laying awake, staring at the ceiling, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Not that you can blame one another -- you both tend to shoot as straight as an arrow when it came to... stimulants. You really had no need for death-sticks or spice, and Obi-Wan was the same. Having come to terms with the fact you both will be out of control in a matter of hours is a bit terrifying, especially considering the delicate balance of things. 

Hiding your relationship wasn’t easy. 

In reality, it brought with it a wide array of challenges, including the whole fact that you and Obi-Wan, more often than not, needed to be quiet and quick about sex. 

Your encounters were always sweet; always gentle and loving and brought on by moments of happiness or longing. Seeing him for the first time in a while always brewed up arousal in your gut -- you couldn’t help it. It came with the territory of love. Just seeing Obi-Wan smile somedays was enough to snap that coil and wind it tightly in your gut. 

After all, he is so damn handsome. 

Even now, looking mildly horrified and extra concerned, he looks handsome -- his profile illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the windows. 

The Jedi exhales, rubbing his face, and turns to eye you in the dark light of the room. 

You’re already staring -- in the dark, he can make out the trace of a smile on your lips. It’s endearing, and it puts him at ease to know this big mistake hasn’t caused you to hate him

Yet.

“Do you feel any different...?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips into a grimace.

“Maybe I was wrong?” you mumble, “But I’ve heard others tell stories about the smell. Like... rotting meat. There was a guard once, when I was in the Naboo Royal Academy, who was out for an entire week on account of the plant. He’d just been married and...” 

Obi-Wan swallows. “I can’t believe --”

“Ah!” you tut, raising a finger, “Stop -- if we’re both about to be off our minds on some aphrodisiac love pollen, it’d just like to remind you that this could be a lot worse.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

You roll over, prop your chin up in your hand, and quirk a playful brow. “You know I’m good at riding things out --”

Both of Obi’s brows rise at your words, his face warping into something of curious contemplation -- he props his head up, mirroring your position in bed. “Has the pollen already gotten you in its grips, then?”

You laugh, ducking your head and snorting a little. “I’m just saying! Trying to stay positive.”

“You’re a wretched minx and you know,” he mumbles, leaning in to steal a kiss, “That I quite enjoy when you do ride things out. Ever the optimist.”

“So, worst case scenario...”

“We lock ourselves in this room for a week?”

“Or we just... get it out of our systems. Ride it out.”

Obi-Wan hums, flopping back down to the pillows. “Right. Ride it out.”

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

That bridge Obi-Wan had talked about crossing?

Well, it arrives a little past midnight.

And along with it, a roaring river runs below. 

You wake up feeling like your body is two hundred degrees and climbing. At first, you’d just figured you’d had one too many covers on you -- Obi-Wan did have a bad habit of being a small space heater -- and so you’d opted to crawl on-top of the covers. But, even that’s not enough.

In your half-asleep haze, you’d nearly forgotten about the earlier events of the night. But, it’s when the sudden urge to strip flashes to the forefront of your mind, you remember exactly what had happened with that damn Khairtai Rysar plant.

You’re peeling off the spare tunic Obi had lended you in a flash, skin glistening with a feverish sweat -- you give in to the urge and nearly sigh when your skin hits the cool air. 

Your eyes drift as you sway a bit, room spinning slightly from the quick movement. 

The moon casts a cool glow over the man snoring softly beside you, his own shirt having been discarded a few minutes ago. His arm is over his eyes, his entire body above the sheets. 

His trousers hang low on his hips and you watch him breathe out a sigh.

He’s dreaming. 

The dip of his waist is where your eyes glue themselves, for some reason, and your lapse in reality draws to a conclusion between your legs. The ache there is... horrible. Suddenly, you realize you’re uncomfortable, and you shift in bed. Your mind feels like it’s six steps behind your body. 

You lay back down, rolling over to bury your face into the pillow, and groan.

This is bad. This is really bad. 

And from the timing of it, it was only going to get worse.

It wasn’t as if you and Obi-Wan hadn’t had sex before -- you had, plenty of times in plenty of places you maybe shouldn’t have, but this was different. This was... This was the sort of thing you’d both heard horror stories about. Hours and hours of feverish impulse, little to no control... Wonderful if you’re trying to conceive a child on the eve of Khairyn Sar, like the market saleswoman probably thought when she sold Obi the plant. 

You sigh, a small smile worming it’s way on your face despite the circumstances. 

You just want to skip to the part where you can both laugh about this. 

You try and keep yourself present -- but it’s getting harder with the sensitivity to every slight breath coming from the body beside you. Your mind wanders as you try to count yourself to sleep; your mind has better ideas, readily delving into fantasies that feel like half-truths, and the ache between your legs worsens. 

You’re mid-dream of Obi lapping between at your core when he moves, brushes your arm, and you jump awake. 

“Sorry.”

You can only manage to grit out a muffled moan. 

The Jedi rolls, ignoring the evident hardness that’s now painful in his trousers, and eyes you carefully -- you’ve stripped, the only thing on your body are the thin, red satin bottoms on your lower half. Sweat is glimmering along your back, and Obi-Wan feels a twang of guilt build in his chest.

He rolls, props himself up, and touches your spine. It was supposed to be a calming gesture, one rooted in apology, but...

It’s a mistake.

Your body reacts immediately, a gasp wringing itself from your throat as your fingers tighten in the sheets -- you grit your teeth, raise your head and nearly plead: 

“Please,” a whisper before it all rushes out, “That... feels good.” 

You can’t find the words to explain that his touch is like pour ice water over a burn. It feels wonderful. You squirm against the mattress as Obi tries to catch his breath. His lungs stutter and he ghosts his fingers along your spine once more -- this time, it sends a pang of arousal straight to his gut. 

“I... I think,” his voice is hoarse and his throat is tight, “I think --”

You just chew your lip and nod, nose brushing the pillow as you remain face down. You feel it too. 

It’s all he can manage. His brain is a foggy mess of fantasy and arousal. You’re the focal point of it all; the force around you is louder now, mingling between him and his sensitivities. His fingertips brush the dip of your spine and you inhale sharply, nerves alight at the contact. He can feel the sensation along his own spine -- it’s like a punch square in the gut. 

Then, on the hazy impulse of some rose colored pollen, Obi bends, slowly, and kisses the blade of your shoulder.

You whimper, gasping slightly when his hand spreads flat across the back of your ribs and sweeps along your skin, bringing with it a electric sensation that throbs your sex with painful, empty want.

“Obi...”

“This is...,” he breathes, lips ghosting your shoulder, “Not good.”

“It hurts.”

He couldn’t agree more. His brain feels like it’s on fire. When he closes his eyes he only sees you, spread out beneath him and saying his name over and over and over -- fucking hell. His voice is low. “What do we do?”

You pull yourself up in bed, hair wild and eyes set in dark circles. You look dazed and far-away, but your attention is rooted on him. 

You reach out and touch his chest, busying your touch with the thatch of reddish hair there. Your fingertips buzz and your body cools immediately -- Obi-Wan leans into the touch, his hand finding yours as he exhales a shaky breath. 

“Ride it out?”

Obi’s eyes are as large as dinner plates at the recommendation -- the usual green over-taken by his dilated pupils; his touches are hungry. He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing furiously as you shift closer.

“Ride it out.”

It’s a downward spiral from there.

You both surge forward, meeting for a kiss that’s like being plunged into an icy lake -- it soothes a bit of the fever, waves of relief coming in the form of wandering hands and messy love-bites. You roll yourself on-top of him, pushing your arms up beside his head and gasping when the Jedi grabs your jaw and pulls you right back down for a kiss that steals the very air from your lungs.

... This is different.

You whimper, collapsing to his chest --  and Obi shudders at the brush of your clothed hips against his own. He feels like he’s drowning in you, happily, and his whole body is alight from your touch. His brain is six steps behind his body and the room spins around him as he pushes himself up and you follow suit, sitting up in his lap. 

Instantly, calloused hands snake around your waist and you have to bite your lip so tight you draw blood to keep yourself quiet when Obi-Wan’s mouth latches onto to the curve of your breast and bites a tender little mark there. Your hands shake, tightening into the tufts of hair at the base of his neck as he makes an appreciative sound at the reaction and blinks up at you from underneath thick lashes. 

Gods above this is heaven. 

Everything feels so... hot. Tight and needy and wet and just the mere pass of his hands along your waist has your squirming in his lap as his tongue draws up and around the swell of your right breast. In a flash, he’s taken the perk nipple there into his mouth and your body quakes.

In response, you fist his hair. Tight.

And he moans. Right against your skin, gasp worming itself from his throat as you get the message and tug again -- this time exposing his throat and allowing yourself to dive below his stubble and little sloppy little kiss there to his delight. 

His whole world is swimming with pleasure and he can feel his own arousal throbbing eagerly in his trousers as your nails run along his scalp and drift to his beard, giving the hair there a gentle tug. 

His heart stutters, mouth dropping open as you laugh greedily into his neck. 

“You like that?” 

A breathless nod; he’s stuck on the way you speak -- half-way in the room and half-way in his mind. Obi-Wan feels like his whole heart is going to give out; he can’t focus, to stuck on your body and the way the force is running directly between you both like a pool of water. Each touch casts a ripple and... 

Fucking hell. 

He flips you both, pressing you into the mattress with enough force to rush the air out of your lungs and make the bed creak; you can’t help but muffle a surprised laugh, shoving your hand over your mouth lazily as Obi-Wan noses your jaw and litters exploring kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes into your skin, stubble raising goosebumps along the hot burn of your fever. You shiver, fingers greedily looping into his hair as he bites a daring little mark into your décolletage, “You’re so beautiful --”

He sounds like he’s underwater. Your hearing is going in and out, eyes half-open to watch the sight of him drifting lower and lower and lower and...

Obi’s fingers brush the band of your bottoms and you gasp loud enough that his eyes shoot open and he moves to slap a hand over your mouth.

The motion is rough enough to spur you on, lending you to arch your back and laugh headily into the skin of his palm. You feel intoxicated -- like you’re tipping over the edge of a blissful high and every touch is enough to make your legs shake.

“I’ll be quiet,” you murmur, plucking at his fingers and watching his eyes grow darker -- you sit up, gripping his palm, before darting your tongue out to draw around his index finger. Instantly, the Jedi turns to putty, and he drops his head as he curses. You laugh, taking his whole finger in your mouth, before he pulls away and sweeps his hands under your bottom.

“Up.”

It’s not a request. It’s a demand.

Your lower abdomen burns with arousal as you do so, lifting your hips and allowing Obi-Wan to snag the band of your underwear and drag them down your hips. You can feel the wetness brush your thigh as he tosses them over his shoulder. Your legs shake a bit, hands winding into the sheets as Obi-Wan hangs himself off the bed and presses your legs apart with warm hands.

There’s no precursor, no build-up.

Not that you need any.

He just lays his tongue flat to your soaking clit and groans, like it’s the first meal he’s had in days. The vibration is heavenly. Your whole body goes hot-white at the sensation, need to feel full peaking in that moment; your arms collapse and you fall back to the sheets gasping as the Jedi between your legs traces the swollen, pink folds of your sex with his tongue. It feels like you’re not even in your body -- like you’re floating somewhere above the moon and swimming with the stars.

You taste like honey. Sweet. So damn sweet. And he can’t get enough of it.

The sensation of his mouth on your center isn’t the only thing winding the spring in your gut higher and higher. It’s... hands. Everywhere. Touching you where his hands aren’t -- across your waist and pinning your thighs down to the mattress as you squirm, in your hair and running across your breasts as you quiver. It’s like you’re the center of three people’s attention, and you realize with a wanton moan that it’s the damn force. 

“Obi...”

He raises his heavy-lidded eyes only for a moment, arms wound around your legs as he holds the apart. A lock of his hair has fallen into his face and you can feel his stubble grace the inside of your thigh as he smiles.

“Sonofabitch,” it rushes out when a non-visible hand ghosts your jaw, trailing down your throat eagerly, “Is that -- is... Obi --”

“It’s me,” he mumbles, pulling away for a moment -- you can see your wetness along his chin as he sways a bit, his grip tightening on the flesh of your thighs, “I’m here.”

And all over.

You move to dig your fingers into his hair, only to watch one of his hands gesture slowly through the air and -- suddenly, both of your hands are above your head and you’re arching against the mattress.

“I’m busy.”

It’s all Obi offers in explanation for the action, jaw falling open as his tongue presses deep past your entrance; once, twice, and again. He rightly fucks you with his tongue, and you suddenly snap.

Your whole body quakes with an orgasm that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. He coaxes you through it, tongue sweeping up your clit as you shake and moan and cry his name over and over.

“What a good girl.”

The reaction is wonderful -- but, it begins an even further downward spiral for you into the land of need. 

Suddenly, the fever flares in the glow of the come-down. It’s worse. Hot and terrible and the ache between your legs isn’t stopping.

You mumble, bleary and quiet, trying to keep your voice level. “I n-need more.”

He does as he’s told, watching as your chest heaves and you continue to squirm despite the light hold on your wrists. In his mind, he traces the curve of your waist and you jump -- it makes him chuckle. It gives him enough time to let go of your thigh and slip his middle finger over your clit, down your folds, and past your entrance.

Gods, he loves you. 

His name spills over your lips so sweetly, Obi has to catch his own breath. 

It’s when he crooks a second finger deeply into you that he gets a real reaction -- this one stirring the haze in his mind and making his thoughts spin. You writhe and gasp and buck your hips down onto your hand, all while begging for more. 

And who is he to deny you that?

Suddenly, the pressure for your wrists is gone.

You sit right up, hair a mess and lips pulled into a terrifying snarl -- you grab the back of his head as he shifts up the bed, slamming your lips onto his and clawing at his back; the Jedi can’t help the desperate whine that worms out of him. 

Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he hears himself promise to get Aayla an apology card. 

“Lay down.”

Your voice is low, and Obi’s brows raise slowly -- he looks fucked out of his mind, but it’s just the pheromones and the force making it hard to think. He obeys the demand wordlessly, rubbing at his face as his head lolls back against the pillows --

Then, your hand ghosts along the imprint in his trousers and he sees stars.

If this is what you’d been feeling... Gods, he’s two beats from coming himself. It doesn’t get any easier -- maintaining some semblance of pacing and composure -- when you tug the hem of his trousers down and away. 

Obi bites his knuckles so hard it draws blood.

Everything feels so... overwhelming. 

It’s only elevated when your hands brush the warm flesh of his cock, eyes hooded with lust weighted lashes. Your bottom lip only brushes the underside of the head and Obi-Wan has to grab something to ground himself.

His arm bows above his head, securing itself to the pillow. You watch his bicep flex with a greedy gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe, tongue darting out to slip flat along the very base of his shaft, “I love you -- so much.”

He can’t speak. Not at all. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out -- only a desperate sound of approval muffled against his knuckles when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and giggle. The sound has his hips twitching at the vibration. You notice, and happily slip your mouth farther along his manhood.

Obi-Wan just swallows, inhales sharply, and muffles a needy moan behind both of his palms. 

Your nails run down his sides, causing the muscles there to jump -- years of training has given him more of a physique than he lets on, and you find yourself watching him hungrily as you bob up and down his member. It’s sinful and in no way pretty, but Obi’s two beats from death’s doorstep when you pull away and swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Gods --”

You crawl up his side, kissing him hotly as he leans to meet you halfway. 

“I -- I need to feel you,” your whisper, voice shattering, “Please.”

He sits up, moving quickly to drag your towards the edge of the bed -- you follow, watching as his cock brushes his stomach when he sits up; it’s all you can think about. Right now, the hollow ache between your legs is driving you mad. 

Obi watches as you throw your leg over his hip; he can see the glistening of wetness running down your thighs there -- and the fact the room smells like flowers hits him suddenly. The pollen, he realizes. Which is better than it smelling like sex, which in a few hours, it most definitely will. 

You hover above him, backlit by the moon and the sight of Coruscant’s night, and kiss him like it’s all you need in this world. Everything is mingling together, painting an overwhelming collection of synapses just trying to rid the pollen from your system. Every touch, every kiss, every breath... all of it is enough to have you needing more. 

“Go ahead,” he breathes, watching as you nose his cheek and sigh, melting into his arm, “I’ve got you --”

You sink down on him and...

That’s it.

There’s no better feeling in the world. 

Nothing like riding it out. 

It’s all him and it’s wonderful and loving and thick and fits the need just perfectly. His fingers dig little half-moons into the skin of your sides as he gasps, mouth falling open as yours does above him. You don’t need time to adjust; you instantly pull yourself upwards and pack down the slick heat of his cock again. The fever washes away with every thrust, your need escalating to sheer bliss by the time Obi-Wan has finally begun to get his bears.

His grapples with you, words stringing together praise and adoration through messy kisses and delighted moans.

“Just like that,” he whispers, snapping his hips up into yours as you scramble to hold onto him, “Gods, you’re so perfect --”

You tighten a hold into his hair and pull, spurring his words to fall off into pleasure and for the sound to be smothered by a bruising kiss. He’s tipping into the territory of carnal, now, hands scaling your back to lift you up and guide you back down with enough force to make you see stars. 

“S-shit --” you hiss, throwing your arms around his neck, “Again.”

So he does. Again and again and again and you’re shaking. Your legs are burning, pace stuttering into a disjoined slow -- and it prompts Obi-Wan to take the lead. You nearly shriek when he lifts you off his member fully and tosses you to the bed, forgetting their previous position in favor of one where he can fuck you right into the mattress. 

Calloused fingers slip between your legs as you grin, legs spread wide and back to the sheets. 

Above you, the Jedi’s smiling. “Let me do the work.”

A shaky nod; he climbs over you, bracing himself up on his elbow beside your head. His cock slips into you easily -- the sound you both make is akin to bliss. Again, the fever begins to receded. Now, his hands are in your hair and your legs are hiked around his hips. You can feel your muscles shaking with each filling of your core. 

“I love you,” it’s muttered against your lips, bodies jostling with each impact of pleasure, “I love you so much --”

Your arms are tight around his neck when he bends, lifts your hips, and drives home. 

It’s world-ending -- before you can even vocalize it, you’re screaming his name and coming so hard you swear you hear something in your chest snap. You shake, tightening harshly around his cock and working his own sudden orgasm out of him in a blink; suddenly, the whole bed moves an inch with a sudden push and the room rocks on impact.

BOOM. 

He’s grasping at you, catching you as you writhe against the sheets and send him spilling a mess everywhere. Inside you, across your thighs, along your stomach. He can’t help but muffle the mantra of your name into the skin of your shoulder as he heaves and shakes and tries to grab your hips for stability with one hand. 

There’s a moment, then two. 

Then, Obi-Wan collapses next to you on the sheets. 

His eyes are wide, chest rising up and down quickly as he swallows and turns to look at you beside him. You’re no better, arms spread out and jaw slack -- there’s a smile on your face, one that blooms into a laugh when you raise your head and stare down at the mess between your legs.

You drop your head back and Obi-Wan exhales slowly.

His voice shakes.

“... I feel better.”

“Yeah,” you muster with a tired laugh, “Me too.”

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

The next morning is... interesting.

His room is a mess. You both wake to find nothing is where it was before. All the trinkets adorning his shelves have flown across the room and even the bed as moved an entire foot from its usual location. 

There’s a crack in the wall where the headboard meets the dura-plaster.

You both wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a land-speeder, full throttle.

Obi-Wan sits straight up and you nearly scream when you see the state of his neck and back. He’s covered in dark purple bites, and running down his back are welts from your scratches. You’re in no better shape -- you face plant into the carpet upon first attempts to stand. 

You both stand in the refresher, slack jawed and just as dazed as you’d been when you’d finally won-out the pollen last night, sometimes around two in the morning.

You just know that the girls are going to have a lot to say about this.

Obi-Wan spares you a single mortified look -- and you both burst into laughter.

Gut-wrenching, tear bringing laughter that sends you both out of the refresher and bracing against the objects in his room. He’s smothering a terrible snort when you try to speak.

“I can’t... I can’t believe --”

“Merry Khairyn Sar?”

You shriek, swatting at the Jedi’s arm as he descends into another bought of laughter. You can’t worm the smile off your face. At this point, you don’t want to.

“I need breakfast,” you point, gathering up your gown and robe from the day previous, “Before I can handle the trademarked Kenobi snark.”

“Dex’s?”

“I’d love to see you try and explain those hickey’s on your jugular to him,” you prod at his neck, earning you a delighted kiss on your way to change in the bathroom, “So yes.”

“Oh, trust me,” he waggles his finger, “I’ve got everyone fooled, you know --”

Obi-Wan eats his words when, after cleaning up, dressing, and straightening his quarters, you both step into the hallway only to come face to face with certain an exhausted looking Twi’lek.

Aayla Secura most definitely heard everything. 

The apologetic look she offers is enough of a give-away as you cover your mouth and Obi-Wan guides you away before you can even utter an apology.

“Morning, Master Secura!”

Once you’re in the elevator, the laughter begins anew. 

Obi-Wan will find a way to make it up to Aayla.

After all, it was a holiday.

Maybe not on Coruscant, but to the Naboo senators and delegates on Coruscant, it was.

[malereaderoneshots]

A draco x m! reader A soft fluff w/ slight angst. Draco wanted to confess to the reader, but regarding his condition, he can't. The reader overheard him talking to someone, and tells him how he feels, Draco then explains his situation, and the reader promises to help him out, hoping for the most positive outcome for them, and Hogwarts. (Can you make the reader slightly older than Draco?)

A/N: Not gonna lie, got a little carried away and made it longer then I thought. But I really enjoyed writing this ask, I hope its what you asked for. Readers house is not specified so people can think of their own houses.Word count: 1,474

It was late and Y/N was walking around the abandoned halls and corridors of Hogwarts. It was a full moon, the moon light collided with the old stone making it shimmer under Y/Ns feet, he couldn’t help but look at the floor and twirl watching the sparkles disappear under his shadow then reappear just like stars when a cloud passes by.

Hushed whispers stopped Y/N in his tracks. No one should be up, hell he wasn’t supposed to be up but the stress of N.E.W.Ts kept him tossing and turning and he could feel his roommates patience’s quickly grinding down, so he went on a walk. As Y/N tipped toed closer the hushed whispers became panicked. “Blaise, I can’t help it. I’m in love with him but I’m bad for him.” said a distressed voice. Y/N wanted to leave, why should he care about a younger years love crisis?

But his feet refused to cooperate, and he stayed. He peeped his head around the pillar just to get a quick look at the boy who was having an identity crisis and his draw dropped to the floor, the boy having a private crisis was none other than Draco Malfoy. Y/Ns ears began to heat up and turn red and his cloak felt far too restricting, he just listened on in a very private conversation between two of the most privileged Slytherins at Hogwarts. It didn’t matter that Y/N was a seventh year, Blaise would happily kill a witness, Y/N was beginning to think facing the wrath of his tired roommates would have a better outcome then this.  

“He’ll never notice me. Y/N is too kind, too gentle to return my feelings.” Plot twist, Y/N thought.

“Maybe ask him to help tutor you?’”

“I can’t do that, he has his N.E.W.Ts to revise for. He’s always in the library studying, I sent a house-elf to give him a muffin and hot chocolate when he was close to ripping his hair out once.”  

“Wow. You really like him huh?”

Y/N took the silence as Draco nodding. His heart beat loudly in his chest, his blush creeping down to his neck.

“So,” Blaise started again, cracking his knuckles. The loud noise piercing the silent night, making Y/N cringe, “Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“Because, it will hurt him.” Draco said, voice laced with sadness. Y/N frowned, he would never expect a Malfoy to actually like someone let alone him of all people, Y/N was a bit of an introvert outside his friend group, preferring to wonder around with his head in the clouds. So, to say Malfoy noticed him is shocking ordeal.

“How will it hurt him?” Blaise pressed on.

“The Dark Lord will remove anything that will distract me from killing Dumbledore.” Okay, Y/N was not expecting that, evident by the gasp he let out. Before he could run, he was blinded by a light and a growl, “What are you doing out of bed?” Once Y/Ns eyes adjected to the violating light he lifted his head and sheepishly shrugged, “Getting water?” Y/N cursed his awkward lying skills. “Blaise who is- Y/N?” Draco’s eyes widened as Y/N looked to the floor guilt flooding his system. Y/N opened his mouth, but Draco beat him to it, “Blaise leave us.”

“But-”

“Leave!” Blaise lowered his wand and Y/N bowed his head in thanks, turning his head to cautiously look at Draco who was already looking at him tears in his eyes. Once Blaise had left Draco dropped his head and scratched the back of his neck, “please let me explain.” his voice cracked. Y/N nodded and took the smaller boys’ hand in his own before pulling him to the secret stairs he was sat on moments ago.

The stone felt cold beneath him, but Draco’s surprisingly warm hand kept him from complaining. The blond boy refused to look up from where his shoes met the ground so Y/N put his index finger under the boys’ chin and tilted his face up so he could look him in the eye. “As the guy you’re hopelessly in love with,” Y/N said dramatically causing Draco to smile slightly, Y/N carried on. “I feel as though it’s my duty to help you.” Draco gave a sad smile and moved his head, so he was looking at the ground once more. “You’re not my boyfriend, you don’t need to help me.” Y/N felt his heart leap, he smirked before cupping Draco’s cheek and lifting his head again. “I’m not your boyfriend yet” Y/N smirked in triumph, Draco’s usually pale cheeks adorned a pink hinge to them. Y/N leaned in a bit closer, testing the waters, when he knew Draco wouldn’t push him away and hex him, he placed a soft, delicate kiss onto the other boys’ lips. Y/N slowly pulled back but a hand on the back of the neck stopped him. Draco, with his eyes still closed, gently pressed his forehead against Y/Ns his face was completely relaxed, and Y/N felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him.

Y/N grabbed Draco’s hands, his face hard and serious. “I’ll do whatever I can to look after you until I graduate okay?” Draco chuckled dryly and shook his head, his hair swaying softly from side to side, Y/N had a strong urge to run his hand through his hair. Draco sighed, “you know there’s a war coming, people are beginning to go missing I don’t want you added to that list.”

“Unfortunately, there are casualties in war.”  

“Yes, I know that but he’ll either kill you or make me do it and I don’t want that!” Draco groaned in frustration, putting his head in his hands and groaning once more. Y/Ns eyebrows knitted together, pulling his lip between his teeth in deep thought until he gasped and shoved Draco slightly who lifted his head and glared at the clearly excited seventh year. “Well go on, what got you excited?” Draco rolled his eyes, sitting up straight so he could look at the older boy. Y/N clapped his hands together, “Why don’t you come live with me during summer? They won’t be able to find you. I live up North, it’s far from kings cross we’ll fly.” Draco stared at him, Y/n couldn’t tell if it was from disgust or if the Slytherin boy was actually thinking about it. Draco shook his head once more. “They’ll find me.” this time it was Y/N who sighed.

“And how could they possible do that? Accio doesn’t work on people.” Y/N laughed but stopped once he saw that Draco was playing with the sleeve of his left arm. Draco looked at Y/N once more, tears collecting in his eyes “Please don’t run away.” he whispered, a tear spilling over his cheek. Y/N tore his eyes away from Draco’s face and grabbed his arm before pulled his sleeve up; a dark mark. His mark

Oh. “oh.” Was all Y/N could manage.

“I’m sorry” Draco whispered more tears flowing down his cheek. Y/n collected the smaller boy into his side, Draco instantly tucked his head under Y/Ns chin. Y/N could feel his bed shirt getting damp from Draco’s tears but decided to rock and hush him instead of making an awkward joke. His brain didn’t listen though. “Hey maybe we could cut the arm off. Call it a freak accident. Maybe Madam Pomfrey could regrow it like she did with Harrys bones? Then you won’t have the mark.” Y/N laughed at the idea but stopped when Draco sat up again, cheeks puffy but with no sign of humour written on his face. Y/Ns smile dropped, before he could apologise Draco pushed the older boys’ chest and threw his head back and laughed. “That is the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard. Even Weasley could come up with something better than that.” Once Y/N recovered from the whiplash Draco gave him he sat up again and shrugged, “Was just an idea.” he muttered. Draco looked back, his eyes softening. He rested his head against Y/Ns shoulder, “thank you. For not leaving and listening. Maybe I could tell my father that I’m spending the summer with a friend. I don’t want to be like them.” the last part came out as a whisper, but Y/N heard, and it broke his heart. He wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulder, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head before resting his head on top of his soft blond locks. “You are nothing like them Draco. You’ve always been good, you just needed someone to lean on to see that.”

“Thank you.” Draco whispered again. Both boys looked up at the moon and relished in each other silent company. There was a war coming, everyone could feel it but with Y/N by his side Draco felt a little bit braver.

[poeticblissme]

Open up

Pairing:  Min Yoongi x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Mild angst, Smut   

Prompt: After months of dating, you finally tell Yoongi exactly what he means to you. 

Word Count: 4,781 

Warnings:  Mentions of depression, fingering, cl*t licking,  

A/N: I have been home for a while, and my responsibilities can finally take a break. I can write again, free of all this stress and let me say it feels so good. I hope you all like this, I have not written in so long so it may be a bit rusty around the edges.  

Feedback appreciated. 

It truly was interesting, the aspect of having someone to confide in when things are too tough for one to handle. No matter what the circumstance, you tried to be that person for all those who were close to you.  You were their shoulder to cry on, the one they came to for advice on any and every situation, good or bad. You were the one who everyone trusted to make them feel better when they felt like nothing, or when they just simply needed a friend. 

Maybe it was the fact in your own life you never really had that type of support system.  Though you were well provided for physically, with a welcoming home, a good paying job, and pleasant memories of friends and family, it did not change the fact that when it came to your emotional well being, you were just not as provided for. Whenever you tried to confide in anyone, they seemed to either blow off your concerns, not really receive what you were trying to convey, or not care about what you felt at all. It seemed as if, no matter how much you were there for others, there was little to no care for your own well being.  

It was not that you were bitter about it, or that you were expecting everyone to return the favor for you being there for them, that was not the point of your kindness at all. It was more of a personal wish to have someone understand that even though you will happily make anyone see the light in their dark situation, you were a human being who had problems too, even when you don’t physically show that there was anything wrong. 

You truly felt it was a wasted effort, but not because of anyone else. Truthfully, you knew deep down that it was your own fault. You were an introvert, and unfortunately for you, the guilt you felt when even thinking of your own issues made it close to impossible for you to open up to anyone without feeling unworthy, or wrong for sharing what made you feel so rotten, if you could even pinpoint why you were feeling so down. 

These constant thoughts of inadequacy and unworthiness were the very reason you had so much trouble opening up to your newest boyfriend, who was only the second one you have ever had. The first did not work out, because, well to put it plainly, he was too clingy. You valued your individuality, and being around people too much was very draining, it was nothing personal, and you did like him, but he wanted to much from you that you could not give him. You were not ready to just give yourself to someone so fully and drastically, and to stay with him to sort out your own personal grievances, all the while not giving him his own emotional needs was is no way fair to him. So, with a heavy heart, and a guilty mind, you let him go. 

When Min Yoongi first appeared in your life is was completely by accident. He had been going to walk out the door of the cafe you were in, most likely going to his morning job, when someone bumped into him, sending him backwards toward your table. The coffee he had in his hand slipped and spilled, marking your paperwork that you had spent countless hours perfecting in large dark brown splatter patterns along ever inch of the printed paper.

“You have got to be joking!” You screeched, your hands going to your hair in shock. 

You eyed your work in disbelief, there was no way you could turn this into your boss now, this was no simple stain on the edge of the paper. No, the brown liquid basically covered each page through and through! This meant you would have to retype everything, every single detail you had foolishly deleted from your saved files on your laptop because you did not want any clutter. 

“Oh shit, I am so so sorry miss,.” Came a voice from beside you. It was deep, husky even. The first thought that came to your mind was how if whoever it was speaking to you had his own radio show, the ears of whoever chose to listen were in for quite the treat. 

You looked up, a small sigh leaving your lips as you finally gave yourself a chance to breathe. Your eyes focused as you finally had a face to match the mystical voice that rang through your ears. The gentleman was average height, at least to you. He had short blonde hair, the edges covering his forehead completely, and his eyes only slightly.  His skin was a delicate creamy color, carefully accentuating the brown of his delicate eyes. He wore a long black overcoat, followed by a black turtleneck, which was proper for the current cold that graced the town, along with dark blue jeans, which were held up by a tight freshly bought black belt. 

“No, no don’t worry.” You started, forcing yourself back to reality. Had you been staring to long? You reached to the side of the table, grabbing the few loose napkins that remained from your breakfast to begin wiping up the spill. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Those papers looked pretty important, considering how hard you were starring at them.” He noted, his brows creasing in concern. He handed you a couple napkins, all the while behind down and helping you wipe the last of the coffee from the table top. 

He was watching you? Well, you shouldn’t be shocked. It is common for others to people watch while waiting for their order. Or maybe he was talking about when you helplessly watch as the large quantity of coffee spilled all over your precious papers. “They are just papers for my job, I have a thesis to give to my boss in the next couple days.” 

“How long have you been working on this?” He asked, taking the napkins off the table and disposing them in the nearby garbage can. 

“A couple you weeks.” you admitted with a sigh, looking down at the drenched papers. If you thought about it, maybe this was karma, you would not put it past the magic of the universe to come back and bite you for something, it seemed to do that more often than not these days. “I was almost finished with it, but I’ll have to retype everything now.” 

“I really am so sorry about this.” He spoke sitting in the chair across from your own. “Someone bumped into me and I lost balance-” 

“Really, it’s no trouble, I was not completely happy with what I had anyway, this way while I do the retypes I can take more time and make it even better than before.” 

You looked up at him and smiled sweetly, trying with all your might to subdue the negative thoughts circling in your head. He returned the gesture by giving you the most adorable gummy smile you had ever witnessed. Wow, what a beautiful human being. 

“Well, is there anything I can do to make up for this terrible circumstance Miss?” 

“Y/N, please. Miss is a bit to professional for my taste and unless you have a laptop on you to help me revise and fix these rewrites, I am okay.” 

“Well, Y/N, you can call me Yoongi, and as luck would have it, I actually do have a laptop in my car.”

You looked at him in shock, not sure how to handle the situation put in front of you. Could he not see that you were joking? You were not really trying to force him to help you over something so small. You really have to work on the tone of your voice when you speak. Now you have made the poor guy feel obligated to help you. 

“Oh Yoongi no, I was totally kidding you don’t have to-”

“Nonsense.” He spoke, with a wave of his hand. “I made the mess after all, the least I can do is help you retype a few papers, besides, I am pretty good with words myself, so I can help make the paper even better than you originally planned, I’ll be right back.” 

With a small wink in your direction, he sat up from his seat and made his way outside. He came back within what seemed a few seconds, with a small black laptop in hand. Perching himself across from you, he plugged the charger into the outlet and took a few of the coffee stained papers to turn in his direction. 

You eyed him with such surprise it made him question if he has something on his face, to which you shook your head. What was he doing this for? it was not like he forced the guy to bump into him, accident happen. You should know. 

“Okay, so, I will need a little bit of a background on what you are writing about, that way I know how to give proper advice how how everything should flow, you know all that good stuff.” He spoke, his gummy smile returning once more, as he began to type the first page in his grasp.

XX

After a few hours of collaboration with Yoongi, you exchanged numbers, his excuse being he wanted to hear the official results of your paper. You could only  imagine his state of happiness when you texted him three days later, explaining to him how your boss had practically leaped with joy at how much detail and work that was put into everything he had reviewed. Yoongi was quite pleased with the result and in turn asked you out to a celebratory dinner, his treat, you accepted without a moments hesitation. 

Eventually, one date turned into three, those dates turned into house visits and movie nights, and now, after eight long months, you were in a very balanced relationship, one you had no idea would mean more to you than life itself.  It was weird, your last relationship had lasted about two months before you had called it quits, and even in that time frame, you had so many doubts about where it was going if you truly liked the person you were with, and if it had been something your heart and mind truly wanted. 

With Yoongi, it was so much more. He gave you space when you needed, and you gave him space when he needed it. He was there for your lowest points, and you were there for his. It was a steady flow of support and balance that you never thought you would feel in your life. Perhaps it meant that much more to you because this was a gradual change. He had given you the time you needed to truly start opening up to him. He knew what it was like to be shy, to hold parts of yourself from the world in fear or hidden guard. You could see in some ways that you were the same in that regard, which is probably why he knew about your mental needs and wants more than you had expected. 

He was always so patient with you, willing to wait for when things were acceptable on your time, and you gave him that same respect in return. If he wanted to talk, you would listen, if he was not in the mood, you would not push unless needed. With time, being neglected was no longer apart of the norm, that feeling of indifference and seclusion was now filled with love and openness. You found yourself wanting to share more with him, to let him into your life, to share the burdens you have felt for so long without feeling guilty. Yoongi, whether he realized it or not, made you feel good enough. 

That feeling of never ending appreciation and fondness, was what brought you to this very moment. You had texted Yoongi, stating how there was something you needed to share with him over dinner, something important. How important it was was supposedly a matter of opinion, but now that your mind and body have built this line of trust with him, it was only fair to him that you share your true thoughts on how much this relationship has affected you, how it continues to affect you. 

He of course agreed to your little date, and once the day finally came, you did anything and everything to make sure that the night was perfect, not only for him, but for your own state of mind. You made his favorite foods, you wore the tight red shirt and black jeans he said he loved to see you in, you even went as far as to light some candles (nothing wrong with setting the mood right?). Everything was catered to his liking, everything you chose to present to him tonight was something that made him happy, and seeing him happy, made you happy. 

You sat next to each other on the couch in your apartment living room, sharing the meal you had prepared. By the way he was silently eating on the plate in front of him, you could tell he thoroughly like what you had made. If he was silent during the meal that meant he was completely focus on the food in front of him, which is something you did as well. Nothing like good food to bring a comfortable silence to the table of lovers. 

“Okay, consider me officially spoiled.” He spoke, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He places the used paper on the plate that rested on the table in front of him. “This was delicious, I also see your wearing my favorite outfit.” 

You smiled, a small blush spread across on your cheeks as you responded. “Yeah, I know you like this outfit best, so-”

“Well I do love it.” He responded, turning to face you. “Tonight has been perfect Y/N, Seriously. Now, the anticipation is killing me,  what did you want to talk about? By the way this night has gone I am hoping it is good news.” 

“Well It is!, I mean- Well I hope so, I mean- It....I mean it can be, it is for me anyway-” You stuttered, trying to find the words you had practiced over and over again. 

“Welp, I am full on food and ready to hear it, take your time.” He spoke, leaning back in his seat. You smiled to yourself, like always, he was giving you time, and not dwelling on the fact you seemed to have lost a bit of your confidence. Always so patient. 

“Okay so....well, It’s been eight months since we started dating you know?” You asked, to  which he nodded, letting you continue. “Which I have to say is really crazy! I mean, I have only had one other person before you and that did not work out...as I told you.” 

He smiled, seemingly enjoying how you began to ramble on. 

“And...Well, during these last few months I have not even had one thought about breaking up! Which is totally a compliment by the way. You are always so sweet to me, and so patient and trusting and I just..... I just-.....I just wanted to do something for you that shows you how much I appreciate all this time you have given to me.”

“Y/N...” Yoongi started sitting up once more. He turned his body, causing his left knee to bump into yours. He took your hand in both of his, the smile he sported still on his face. “You show me that every day-” 

“No..let me finish, otherwise I’ll never get this out.” You interrupted. With a small sigh you looked into his eyes and pushed the last bit of confidence you had to the surface. 

“I know we shared I love you’s already, but this is different. I don’t...I don’t open up to people often. Not in the way I have opened up to you. It is hard for me to express my emotions so freely. Whether it’s my parents or old friends, its hard to give your love to someone, only to be broken by them....not purposely of course! but in ways they may not understand because they don’t live inside my head. I can’t make them understand how I feel, not when I can’t even explain it myself.” 

You could feel the tears start to bottle up in your eyes, the weight of your confession was becoming to much, but you wanted to continue, you needed to. 

“Look, I just....I need you to understand that I love you, Yoongi. I truly, deeply, love you, Everything you have done for me, the time you have given me to open up with out judgement, to being the listening ear that I have always dreamed of having, you have done it all, and that has changed my entire life. It is not often I feel so accepted and love.....I don’t think I have ever felt that way, not fully at least. With you, I feel complete. These last few months have changed me for the better and i know that is because of you, I would not be where I am without you, and...I needed you to know that. 

The look in Yoongi’s eyes was unreadable, much like most of the time when he was processing his own emotions. You knew him however, and you could tell by the way his hand squeezed yours tighter, how his eyes searched yours for whatever he was looking for, that he was touched by your confession.

“Y/N...” He finally whispered, pulling his right hand from atop yours to wipe away a tear that had suddenly fallen from your right cheek. “Baby, My precious Baby I love you so much. Neither of us show our emotions outright, but just know my gentle flower, the feeling is forever reciprocated.”

He leaned in, no longer able to keep a distance from you. His lips met yours slowly, as if you were to delicate right now to touch, which in some ways you were. You responded to his touch as if by instinct, leaning further into him to have more of his mouth pressing onto yours. You could feel heat growing in your chest, a sudden feeling of desperation and want clouding your insides. You knew what this was, you knew were this was leading, as you had done it many times before, but there was something different about tonight, there was something deeper, more powerful than about the process leading to the inevitable.  

Your hands detached from each other, the need to touch each other far to mighty to ignore. As your hands went to the back of his hair, and to the side of his left arm, his hands tangled into your hair and to the top of your left hip. 

The kiss began to gain a natural heat, tongue dived into each other, now dancing a beautiful ballet with one another. Hands clasped tighter, doing whatever it took to bring you both closer together. The tug you felt at the back of your head, caused a breathy moan from your lips, forcing you to accept the oxygen you had no idea you were being deprived of. 

“Yoongi..”You moaned again, trying to gain his attention. 

“Baby, I want you so bad,” He spoke, pulling away from your lips to look into your eyes. you could see the lust circling in his eyes, the darkness of his iris's no doubt matched your own. You wanted him too....scratch that... You needed him too. 

“Yoongi I need more..” You whispered, looking down to his lips. “Please...” 

“Your room, come on.” He commanded, shooting up from the couch. His touch left your body, much to your dismay, but you quickly complied, sitting up from the couch and making your way to your now shared bedroom. 

Time seemed to be going a lot faster than you had originally anticipated, you were not able to predict the time it took you to get to your room, nor the time it took for you to strip yourself of all of your clothes, seeing as he always loved it when you were bare before him. 

“Always so beautiful.” He commented, shutting the door behind him. 

His stance turned into the confident predator that he became during times like this, his walk toward you held nothing but power and determination, the type that had your knees weak and your breath short. 

You body was craving his touch, more so that usual, and you knew why. After making yourself so vulnerable, which was something you never did, you needed reassurance. You needed him to show you that what you just did was okay, that he would accept the heart that you had so willingly given him access to. You needed to know that the love was returned. 

He now stood right in front of you, his eyes gliding up and down you naked form in what seemed to be complete adoration. With a small smirk, and click of his tongue, he spoke, “Lay down, and spread those pretty legs for me baby.” He nodded his head to the bed behind you, and as always you were quick to comply to his wish, your ability to resist or play stubborn a mere passing thought in your mind. 

With your legs spread apart, and elbows holding up your upper half, you watched with deep interest as Yoongi eyed your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and making your stomach clench in anticipation, sending a wave of wetness to your core. 

“I can see how wet you are.” Yoongi commented, his focus turning to your for a split second before returning to your wet heat. “I haven’t even done anything yet, how could you possibly be this wet?” 

“Guess you just have that affect on me.” You spoke with a smile. 

“Then you should know how hard I am right now then, seeing as you have the same effect on me, princess.” He called out, making your eyes rake down to his lower half, and sure enough, through the fabric of his black jeans was his erection, in it’s glory, growing in front of your very eyes.

You found it sweet that even now, your reactions to each other doing the bare minimum, was as strong as when you had first engaged in sexual activities. It was like your bodies were addicted to one another, and the very idea of getting to touch each other in even the simplest of ways, was enough to have your body aching for more, no matter the circumstance.

“I’m going to devour this sweet, sweet Pussy, would you like that baby? You want me to suck up these sweet juices?” He asked, his voice low, sweet and tempting. He slipped his shirt off in one swift motion, throwing it to the floor to an undisclosed location. He loosened the button on his pants, letting the fly now hang freely open giving him and his crotch the air it needed.

“Yes Yoongi..... Yes, please, I want your tongue in me so bad.” You answered, your voice rushed. “

He smirked as he took his final steps to the bed. He spread your legs while lowering his body, making sure to keep eye contact with you as his face reached closer to the are where you wanted him most.

“It makes me so happy to know that this is all mine.” He spoke, his voice low and seductive. His lips touched upon the skin of your inner left leg, the feeling nothing more than a light peck. “To know that I am the only one who could ever touch something so precious, it drives me wild.”  

You whimpered as his lips traveled lower as they remained on your skin. You could feel the lingering feeling of his luscious lips of every piece of your thigh that he touched, only making you crave more than he was currently giving you. You knew he was doing this on purpose, he wanted to tease you, to make your body ache for him, to make your body push hard to earn what he would give you. 

“Yoongi..” You whined, your hands clenching on the sheets below you. You were about to complain, to use whatever was left of your voice to explain how much you needed him, but it turned into nothing more than a exasperated moan, as his tongue finally came into contact with your soaking core. 

You knew in reality that by the way his fingers slid up and down your thighs, the way he light kissed the insides of your trembling legs to calm you down, you didn’t have to say a single word. 

He breached your inner walls, curving his wet tongue to reach the places he knew would have you squirming and begging for more. His mouth collected your wetness, using it as a lubricant on his desperate lips. He sucked and licked slowly and thoroughly, finding any and every place he could. 

“Fuck..” You began, arching your back. “Fuck, fuck yes Yoongi right there, oh my god yes, yes right there, please keep going, right there, right there, right there keep sucking me.” 

“Mmmhm.” He responded, knowing this would be your response. He raised his right hand in the air letting your eyes note the two digits that lowered slowly until found its way to your aching lips. With studied precision, he entered you, his fingers sliding in and out your wet walls. He made the process agonizingly slow, pulling in and out at the slowest pace he could muster. The rough edges of the tips of his fingers continuously sliding in tune with your movements, making you cry out in want and desperation. You needed him to go faster, the need to have him pushing you to your absolute limit was now a must, he felt to good, he felt so right, his fingers were so powerful you were not sure how you ever went without them for any part of your life. 

He hummed once more against your cunt, sending even more powerful vibrations from his mouth to your throbbing clit. The mixed physical sensations caused your body to twitch in eagerness. Did you forget to mention that he felt so good? Did you forget to mention how much you needed even more of him? You could not remember the thoughts you had conjured up before. You did not know how one man could make you feel like you were on cloud nine whenever he touched you, how one man could use his tongue and push your mind to forget the difference between reality and fantasy. 

Your clit was pulsating with every suck, your pussy was clenching with every touch. The way his fingers entered you over and over again, taking only a few moments to exit your cunt to collect the wetness your body continually produced was driving you crazy. Your stomach was clenching more and more, indicating how close you were to your first real release since all this agonizing teasing began. All you knew was that you were on the edge, and that you needed your daddies permission to let you climb over the edge, just once. If only you could let go for only a moment. 

“Yoongi, Yoongi baby please I’m gonna-” 

“Gonna come for me, my precious flower?” He asked, lifting his mouth from you, but not letting his fingers stop their fast paced in and out motions in your cunt. He knew how much your body could take, he knew what your body needed. “Gonna let me feel you come over my fingers before I fuck you into oblivion? You want me to feel your delectable pussy clench on my fingers?” 

Your breathing began to race at his words, you could feel yourself on the edge, you could feel your body begin to let go. 

“That’s right baby, come for me, let me see those sexy fuckin pussy lips tighten around me. I want to suck your sweet cum juices until you are completely dry baby, I want to show you how much I love you and your body.” 

You could not hold the moan that escaped your lips as you came, the feeling of euphoria washing over you and your desperate body as Yoongi continued to push in and out of you, allowing you to ride out the high he had graciously given you. 

Yoongi watched as your breathing began to steady. That was how he knew what state you were in, and he knew that you, as well as him, craved more, no matter how much you may have liked what he gave you. 

“I am not done with you yet princess.” He spoke, making sure your attention would go to him, despite your tired state, and of course, it did. 

“Oh?” you answered, a small smirk on your face. “What else do you have for me.?” 

“Something you know that if I wanted, I could have you begging for.” He answered, his tongue licking his lips as he did before. 

To see my Masterlist just Click Here 

[queenmylovely]

Good Company

Summary: Gwilym lee x fem!reader. Your family’s annual ski trip with the Lees is the first time in a while you’re seeing your childhood best friend Gwilym. 

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: cussing, fluff, smut light (18+!! marked with ***)

A/N: This is my entry for @laedymoon​ 1k follower celebration! This is only my second Gwil fic and it was actually really nice to write. I got some definite inspo from @sweet-ladyy​ MOTH ch. 5, this is a bit of a switcheroo on that, but if you know you know ;) Thank you to @coffeewritingwine​ for beta-reading! Any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Masterlist

(gif by @mazzelloplots​; ugh he’s so hot) 

🎿🎿🎿

Every March, for so long that it had become tradition, your family and one other would go on a ski trip. This trip started before the two pairs of parents were even married, and continued until now, when their kids were all grown up and had kids of their own.

This year, by some miracle, all kids, spouses, and now grandchildren were able to come. So it was you; your brother, Nick; your sister, Kate, her wife, Jen, their daughter Ella; and your parents Julia and James. On the other side was the Lees: the parents, Tom and Ceinwen; their son Geraint, his wife Mary, kids Siân and Aled; another son Owen; their daughter Rhiannon, her husband Elwyn, their son Tomos; and finally, their third son who was your age and your childhood best friend, Gwilym.

There was no way the 18 of you would fit into one house, so you were divided into two that were next door to each other. The people with small children were in one house (affectionately dubbed the “chaos house” by you) and the rest of you were in the other. The houses were identical, two four-bedroom cabins with just enough room to house you all but not enough so that anyone could avoid each other. It was all by design because good old T, C, and double J wanted to make the most out of having all their kids and grandkids together at once.

Each couple had their own room, the kids were in one, Nick and Owen were sharing one (as they were also best friends), and you and Gwilym were sharing the other.

Which was fine. The two of you had had countless sleepovers since you were little, going all the way through until the summer before university, so you were totally comfortable in each other’s presence.

Now that you were grown up, you were still close. Since you were both living in London, you did try to see each other at least once a month, but it was difficult with how busy Gwilym was with shooting and such. So when the trip came around, and you hadn’t actually seen each other in over three months since the annual Christmas Eve eve party that your parents had, you were super excited for a week with him and both families.

_____

Your flight had been delayed so you knew you were the last one arriving. The cabins you had rented were at the ski resort, and you took the ski shuttle to them, your luggage in tow. Luckily, you would be renting the actual skis. Getting off at the main building you had a bit of a trek to the cabins. By the time you reached them, you were out of breath, your hat was about to fall off your head, and you were sure that sweat had plastered your fly-aways to your forehead, but you were too excited to see everyone to care.

Knocking three times, you only had to wait a second before the door was flying open. Owen was standing there, beaming at you, and although he had seen you only two weeks before at Nick’s birthday drinks, he pulled you into a big hug and squeezed you too hard with a laugh. You got much gentler hugs from the others, except Nick who just pulled your hat down over your eyes before giving you a quick side hug. Then the kids seemed to realize you were there and a ten and eight year old, Siân and Ella, respectively, came running over, yelling your name. You hugged them both and kissed the tops of their heads.

Then the two two-year-olds, Tomos and Aled, toddled over, curious as to what was causing the commotion. When they recognized you (both were very smart two-year-olds), they garbled out your name. With a grunt, you managed to pick both of them up at the same time, giving them big kisses on the cheek that they laughed at and then returned, no doubt getting whatever they had last been eating on your face.

The only person who hadn’t greeted you yet was Gwilym. Your mom saw you looking around for him and said, “Gwilym’s just down the hall in your room getting the bed ready.”

“Okay. Better go say hi and put this in there,” you replied, grabbing the handle of your suitcase.

The two of you were in the only downstairs bedroom, so you walked down the hallway past the kitchen and a bathroom, finding the door slightly ajar all the way at the end.

You knocked lightly before pushing it all the way open, “Knock-knock, is the movie-star decent?”

Gwilym was just finishing making the bed, placing the little throw pillows perfectly when he looked up and saw you. He grinned and walked around the side of the bed, rolling his eyes before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, no movie stars here, love. Just me, hope that’ll do,” he said into your hair and you let out a little contented sigh. No one gave hugs quite like Gwil.

“As if,” you said, pushing on his upper arms to look at him. Your hands stayed there and his stayed on your waist. “You cannot play a member of Queen in a big Hollywood movie and then refuse to be called a moviestar. We’ve been over this.”

“We’ve also been over that I’m the same exact person I’ve always been,” Gwil said, a little sternly.

“Well I know that,” you said, hitting his arm lightly and then letting go. He did the same. “No amount of fame could knock the dork out of you. Or let me forget what a nerdy little kid you were and still are.”

Gwil laughed at that, relieved that you still saw him the same. In the year and a couple months since Bohemian Rhapsody had come out, you had only seen each other a handful of times, and for no longer than three hours. He had been a bit worried that you could have come to think of him differently and just hid it well around others. But your teasing definitely assuaged that worry.

“So I made up the bed for us. There’s an electric blanket under the comforter so we don’t get cold. I don’t think this cabin has the greatest insulation,” he pointed out, looking at the walls distrustingly.

“Thank you for that, you know how much I hate making beds,” you told him and he smiled. “Another thing I would appreciate is if you let me sleep on that side of the bed.”

You pointed to the one furthest from you, and Gwil looked at it then you.

“Is this your thing about not sleeping the closest to the door?” he asked, squinting at you.

“I know, it’s irrational or whatever, but I’d just feel safer if I didn’t sleep closest to it,” you replied. You had just a bit of a fear that murderers or something would break in and attack everyone during the night.

“I guess I can. But I don’t know how good of protection I’d be. I’m no self-defense expert,” Gwil admitted, smiling.

“Even if you aren’t they’d kill you before me, so maybe I’d be able to run away,” you said matter-of-factly.

Gwil’s face turned into one of shock and he exclaimed, “So I’m just a killing buffer to you? You’d run away while I was being brutally murdered? Good to know I’m disposable.”

He crossed his arms and frowned harshly, but you knew he was just pretending to try to make you feel guilty. Nevertheless, you hugged him around his crossed arms, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“Aw, Gwilly, you know that’s not true. You’re much more than that. You’re my smart, handsome, funny, dorky, best, best friend in the whole wide world,” you laid it on thick, trying to flatter him into not being “upset,” though nothing you said was a lie. When he didn’t budge, you started tickling his sides until he broke and started laughing, uncrossing his arms and grabbing yours to stop you.

He wrapped his arms around you again, resting his chin on your head that you had turned to the side and laid against his chest. “Okay, I’ll sleep closest to the door. You’ll be safe. As long as the murderers don’t come in through the window.”

Eyes widening, you looked straight at the big window that was next to your side of the bed. Your arms tightened around Gwil, genuine fear creeping into your voice, “Don’t even joke about that.”

_____

Since it was mid-afternoon when you got there, there was to be no skiing that day. Instead, the whole group made dinner together (well, really it was the grandparents with a little help from the other parents peeling vegetables and setting the tables). You and Gwilym were in charge of the kids while Owen and Nick were sent to buy wine, beer, and juice boxes. Siân and Ella were doing their own thing, playing some kind of spy game that had them giggling and using a pair of walkie-talkies.

Aled and Tomos were content to sit on your laps. You and Aled were playing patty cake while Tomos was playing with Gwil’s short beard. Tomos was having a good time, but every so often, he pulled a little hard and Gwil winced in pain, reminding him to “be gentle.”

Once dinner was ready, you picked up your respective kid and called to Ella and Siân. They dutifully followed you to the tables, and you plopped the toddlers into their high chairs next to where their parents would sit.

Dinner was good, a chicken alfredo with homemade sauce that was sure to please everyone, including the picky eaters. There were also roasted carrots that even Ella, who hated vegetables, could stomach.

That was followed by a movie, but everyone talked over it.

“Has Aled bitten anyone? Tomos has done it like once, but I’m hoping he doesn’t enter a phase.”

“The target is in place, get ready for attack, over.”

“Aaah! Stop hitting me! Why are those pillows so hard?”

“I see the girls are enjoying their walkie-talkies, you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Do you have any podcast recommendations that aren’t true crime? I just worry about Siân hearing since she would actually understand what they’re saying.”

“Y/N, Michael’s the cousin that lives in California, right?”

“No, that’s Mark,” you half-yelled back to Nick, who was talking to Owen and Tom. Then you turned back to Gwil, “Wait, you already wrapped? I thought you were shooting until May.”

“No, that’s when it comes out,” he corrected you.

“Oh… Does that mean you’ve been in London for weeks and you haven’t tried to make plans with me? Where were you for Nick’s birthday?” you asked, in a teasing tone but you were also a little bit mad.

“I’ve been travelling some. But I was at a Fashion Week thing,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Whatever, moviestar,” you said with a huff. Then you adjusted how you were sitting so you were against the back of the couch instead of facing Gwilym.

“Y/N…” Gwilym started, but trailed off because he knew you would probably interrupt him.

“Nope, don’t talk to me right now. I want to be able to sleep in the same bed as you without strangling your pretentious ass. Just let me cool off,” you told him. You were being a little over-dramatic, but you knew that in ten minutes you’d be done being annoyed. Both of you knew you weren’t really all that angry because you were still sitting with your thigh and arm pressed to his. When you were really mad, you didn’t even want to be in the same room as him.

_____

Once everyone was making their way to bed, you and Gwil took turns in the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“You’d better go first, I have my whole skincare routine,” you let him know, slight anger long having faded away.

“How do you know I don’t have one?” he shot back and you just rolled your eyes to his laughter.

As he was brushing his teeth, you changed into your pajamas. Just an old uni shirt that was too ratty to wear outside of the house anymore and a pair of cotton running shorts. But it was soft, oversized, and very comfy, so it was perfect for sleep.

“All yours,” he told you, walking into the room just as you pulled your shirt over your head. You were facing away from him, so at most he had seen your back, but you didn’t really think about it, grabbing your stuff, giving him a quick smile, and heading into the bathroom.

As you walked away, Gwil took in a big breath. After not seeing you very much over the past year and a half, Gwil was feeling different seeing you now. You had always been beautiful, but Gwil could’ve sworn your beauty had increased tenfold over that time. That, or he had just been taking it for granted since he used to see you constantly. Whatever it was, everytime you guys hugged, or when you sat close to him on the couch, or just now when he had gotten a glimpse of your lower back as you dressed, Gwil’s cheeks heated up uncontrollably and he had to fight to act normal.

Since the two of you were so comfortable physically around each other, he couldn’t pull away because then you would know something was up and ask him about it. He had no idea how you would react and he didn’t want to risk the years of your friendship and the bond between your families over a crush.

You walked into the room with a fresh face and moisturizer, ready for bed. Gwil was sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought.

“Can I turn off the big light?” you asked, hand over the switch.

“What? Oh yeah, let me just get the lamp,” he told you, getting up and turning on the lamp.

As you switched off the light and then walked to your side of the bed, you took another look at his pensive face, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Gwil looked at you, pausing for a moment before answering, “Just thinking about which side of the mountain I should go on first. I don’t know if I’m too rusty to hit the backside right away.”

“Oh, you should definitely do the frontside the first day so we can ski together. Otherwise, I’ll be left alone with the kids on the bunny hill. I need your guidance,” you said with a goofy smile, climbing under the covers.

Guidance, Gwil thought for just a moment before recovering and getting under the covers himself, “Okay, sounds good, I’ll join you on the front side.”

“Thank you!” you said, beaming at him. Then you leaned over and pecked his cheek, “We’d better get to sleep. Early morning and all.”

“You’re right,” he said, turning off the lamp, glad that the darkness would hide his red cheeks at your kiss. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Sweet dreams, Gwil.”

_____

The next morning, the musical sound from your alarm woke you up. You groaned, opening your eyes slowly and lifting an arm to turn it off. Except the arm wouldn’t lift. Looking down, you realized you were tangled up with Gwil.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment for a second, but then you thought again and realized it was Gwil and he would not care at all that the two of you had ended up cuddling. The two of you tended to cuddle whenever you got tipsy anyway.  

So you slipped your arm from underneath Gwil’s and were able to turn just enough to reach your phone and turn the alarm off. Your movement made Gwil stir and he blinked his eyes heavily. Then they opened wide when he realized how you were situated.

You giggled at his look and said, “Morning, Gwil.”

Relaxed by your laughter, he let out a chuckle too, “Morning, love.”

Neither of you moved from each other’s grasp, happy to be lazy and warm in each other’s arms for the moment.

“I feel like I just got the best sleep I have for months,” you told him, playing with the collar of the shirt he was wearing.

“Mm, me too,” Gwil agreed, squeezing you in his arms a bit.

“Maybe we should always sleep in the same bed,” you joked.

“Haha, yeah,” Gwil replied kind of awkwardly, but when your phone went off again, you were distracted.

“That’s my ‘you better be awake by now’ alarm, so we better get up,” you said, patting his chest before disentangling yourself from him.

Gwil let you go and got up himself. Realizing the family was going to head to the mountain in less than an hour, the two of you rushed to get ready and eat breakfast, not having time to chat very much.

_____

“I am in dire need of hot chocolate. I’m sooo cold,” you announced, your teeth chattering as you removed your snow-soaked jacket and hat.

“Same, I’ll go put the order in,” Gwil said, having removed his wet clothes faster than you.

“And some fries,” you called after him and he waved over his shoulder in acknowledgement. “And chicken strips!”

Gwil just shook his head, but you knew he would get you them anyway. He was always so good to you. Sometimes it made you wonder whether there was anything between you, but neither of you ever made a move, and it never seemed like the time to talk about it. You loved Gwil, sure, but loving him as your best friend and being in love with him were two different things. Sometimes that line became a bit blurred, especially when you noticed how good he looked on this trip, his hair and beard having grown out. But these feelings had popped up before, and had gone away in a couple weeks, so who’s to say that this time would be any different?

“Alright, here we go, you mooch,” Gwil said, somehow managing to balance two cups of steaming hot chocolate, and a giant basket of chicken strips and fries.

“Let me take this,” you said, grabbing the basket from him so he wouldn’t accidentally spill. You grabbed a couple fries and shoved them in your mouth. “Thank you!”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to talk with your mouth full?” Gwil asked sarcastically, as the two of you sat down.

“Actually, you’re the first,” you replied in an equally sarcastic fashion.

“Whatever, give me some of those fries.”

The two of you ate, mostly silent because you were very hungry. The ski lodge’s stereo system was playing the radio at a medium volume, so you were content listening to that. Then “Bohemian Rhapsody” came on and you looked at Gwil with wide eyes.

“It’s your song!” you said excitedly, immediately swaying to the music.

Gwil threw his head back in slight exasperation but laughed all the same, humming the rhythm of the guitar and doing some light air guitar that made you break out in laughter.

The whole situation brought him back to a time probably two years ago when he had finally been able to tell you about the project that was Bohemian Rhapsody.

_

“You what?!” you exclaimed. “You’re playing Brian fucking May?! What the actual fuck, that’s so exciting!!”

Then you tackled him in a hug that actually knocked the wind out of him.

He coughed and then replied with a grin, “Yeah, it really, really is.”

You pulled back at him and smiled, “Okay, tell me everything. Even the stuff you’re not supposed to.”

Gwil chuckled and smiled back, “There’s not a ton to tell. Serious. But I can show you a mockup they did of the Greatest Hits album.”

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of the four actors’ faces superimposed onto the album cover next to the original. It took you a second to tell them apart. Multiple seconds in fact. What gave it away was the actors that were playing Roger Taylor and Freddie Mercury. Then you looked back and forth between Brian May and Gwil’s version.

“You literally look like a carbon copy of him, what the hell? Oh my gosh, I cannot wait to see you in a wig,” you gushed, laughing as you continued to stare at the two pictures.

Gwil looked at you, smiling and you caught his eye when you looked up, rushing forward to hug him again.

“I’m so proud.”

Over the course of filming, he had you on set a couple of times, and you had met the rest of the cast. They were a great bunch and you loved how happy Gwil was around them. Part of you was a little jealous that they got to see so much of him, but it was his career, and overall you always stayed supportive.

He had invited you to the premiere too, but you had sat with his family to watch it, as he sat with the rest of the cast. The popularity of the movie meant he had been busier and busier, and it was hard to see him consistently. That’s why you were so happy for this week’s vacation; a chance to reconnect.

_____

Ever since the movie had been announced, everyone from both families had taken to listening to Queen much more than they had previously, both to be supportive, but also because it just reminded them how good their music was.

So, that night when you were hanging out with Rhiannon, Kate, and Jen in the kitchen of the chaos house making cookies while everyone else was making dinner, you were playing Queen in the background. Soon, the conversation turned from family gossip to a debate about the members while looking at pictures of them as the cookies baked.

“Listen, I will concede that Roger does have a certain appeal as a blonde, but Deaky just has something else,” Rhiannon stated.

“Hmmm, I can’t really relate about his looks, but I definitely think Deaky wrote some of their best songs,” Kate pointed out.

“I gotta say that there’s something about Brian’s voice, though, that makes me feel something, like, in the depths of my soul. His voice is just so melancholy and soft,” Jen said dreamily as she pointed at him in a picture. All three of you turned to look at her, pulling faces and then everyone cracked up.

Gwil walked into the house, looking for the four of you to tell you that dinner was ready when he heard loud laughter coming from the kitchen. He smiled to himself, wondering what you were laughing about and then he overheard you talking.

“Don’t get me started on Brian. He looks…” Gwil was sure that you were about to say “Just like Gwil” but instead you finished “So hot in this picture.”

Gwil’s eyes widened at the implication as he connected the dots; if you thought he looked exactly like Brian and Brian was hot, did that mean that you thought he was hot? Gwil didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he didn’t know how else to interpret what you said. Maybe there was something there. Maybe his crush wasn’t one-sided. Maybe he should talk to you about it? Maybe.

For now, he just walked up to the swinging kitchen door, knocking lightly before he walked in.

“Dinner’s ready. You all better get over there before it gets cold,” he warned with a smile, ignoring the way you rushed to take your phone off the counter and that you hardly looked at him.

Kate, Jen, and Rhiannon looked at each other quickly; they had seen the looks both of you gave each other when you thought no one was looking and had actually talked to each other about it when they were on the ski lift. Gwil was easy to read and they were certain that he was practically in love with you, but you had been a little harder to understand. But then you went and said what you thought of Brian and that was the final nail in the coffin.

“Yeah, we’d better get over there so the guys don’t take all the food,” Kate said with a smile.

“Oh, but the cookies aren’t done,” you pointed out.

“You’re right. Gwil, why don’t you stay with Y/N and help her out and we’ll save you guys some food?” Jen asked, though it seemed more like a direction than a suggestion.

“Yeah, you don’t mind,” Rhiannon said, looking at you and then Gwil pointedly.

“Uh, okay sure,” you said, a little confused as to why they were acting strange.

“That’s fine,” Gwil answered at the same time, making eye contact with his sister and nodding ever so slightly, but you missed it.

The three of them walked out of the room and then out of the house to the other one, whispering and giggling all the way.

You shot Gwil a confused look but he just shrugged.

“So what type of cookies are they? They smell good,” he asked pleasantly, walking to stand next to you.

“Oatmeal chocolate chip. Mom’s specialty, although now she’s passed that off on me and Kate,” you responded with a closed-lip smile.

He groaned appreciatively, “Those are my favorite.”

“I know,” you said, smile growing, “That’s why I suggested them.”

“You’re literally the best,” he said, pulling you into a hug that you accepted happily.

“I know,” you said, resting your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His rested over your shoulders and he chuckled in response.

You were tired from the day of skiing, and it felt nice to be in Gwil’s arms, so you relaxed there, closing your eyes. After a minute, Gwil decided he did want to talk to you and pulled away slightly. Looking up at him, you waited for him to speak, but he just stared at you for a moment. You found yourself unable to look away from his intense eyes, and they were getting closer and closer, though who was moving you didn’t know. You got so close you could see little flecks of green and hazel in his blue eyes and feel his gentle breath on your face.

The air felt charged with possibility, and you were just about convinced to lean up the two inches more and connect your lips. You were two more seconds away from closing that gap, now needing to know what kissing Gwil would be like. You were sure that once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Then the timer on the oven went off and both of your heads whipped to the side to see where the noise was coming from. You broke away from Gwil to turn off the timer and then opened the oven door and took out the cookie trays with oven mitts. As you were placing the trays on the heat proof pads on the counter, Gwil turned off the oven.

“They can just cool here until everyone’s done with dinner,” you said too quickly, and Gwil nodded.

Then the two of you took off for the other house, Gwil about five steps behind you. It wasn’t until you were in the other house and surrounded by a bunch of loud family members that you felt you could breathe normally.

_____

That night, after getting ready for bed, turning off the lights, and climbing under the covers, you patted the part of the bed next to you and reached your arms out to Gwil.

He paused for a second so you said, “Come on, if we’re just going to wake up like this anyway, we might as well save sleeping us the trouble.”

“You make a good point,” Gwil conceded, scooting closer to you, again grateful the lights were off. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side, bringing one of your legs over his closest one.

Once both of you were settled, you patted his chest and wished him a good night, him doing the same with a squeeze of your hip.

As you were dozing off, Gwil thought that at least the almost kiss or whatever it was hadn’t made things so uncomfortable that you couldn’t sleep next to each other. That was a good sign.

_____

***

Once again in the kitchen, you found yourself in his arms. But this time, instead of anything interrupting you, your lips crashed together. The kiss was hot and intense, and before you knew it, you were seated on the counter with Gwil standing between your legs.

Hands were everywhere; yours were running through his hair and tugging on it as his roamed across your breasts, hips and ass. Then you were unbuttoning his pants and he was pushing them down along with his boxers revealing his hard cock. You hopped off the counter, turning around and laying over top of it, and Gwil pulled your panties off, throwing them to the side. With a few swipes through your wet folds, Gwil pushed into you, a gasp of pleasure escaping you as he did.

***

_

Gwil opened his eyes blearily, having been woken up by you moving and then your loud gasp.

“Y/N?” Gwil asked softly, but when you didn’t answer, he looked at your face and saw your eyes were still closed. The two of you were now in a more typical spooning position, having migrated to it throughout the night. By the low amount of light that was in the room, Gwil assumed it must be early morning.

Then you squirmed again, this time practically grinding into his cock, and Gwil froze in shock. You let out the most wanton moan Gwil had ever heard in real life and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping himself.

Just when Gwil thought he couldn’t have been more surprised, you said, “Yes, Gwil, right there,” and Gwil almost moaned. His cock was definitely getting hard, and he didn’t know what to do so he moved his hips back away from yours so you wouldn’t be able to feel it.

He tried to remove his arm from around your waist, but you were holding it to you even in your sleep, and he feared that if he moved you too much you would wake up and know that he heard you. And see his hard-on.

Then you squeezed his hand and whined, “Fuck me harder, please Gwil,” and he didn’t have the choice but to wrench his hand away from you. Getting out of bed and out of the room as quickly as possible, he headed to the bathroom to take a cold shower. As hot as it was that you were having a sex dream about him, he felt it would be wrong to bear witness to it and give himself any pleasure because of it. It did further confirm the idea that you had feelings, or at least a subconscious attraction, to him though, so that was a plus.

Gwil’s sudden movements had pulled you from your dream, and as your body slumped in the bed you only just saw him before he left the room. But you saw his boner and your eyes widened as you remembered your dream. There’s no way he could have known what you were dreaming about, right? The boner was just morning wood, right? Then you shifted so you were sitting up and felt that your underwear were a mess. Maybe it had been kinda obvious. Fuck.

You got ready before Gwil was done with his shower, going to the kitchen to help with breakfast. When he came down the hallway and the two of you made awkward eye contact, you felt your cheeks heat up to a dangerous degree and ran into your mom who was carrying a stack of pancakes.

At breakfast you and Gwil sat next to each other like usual and when his leg brushed against yours you knocked over your glass of water. As the two of you were wiping up that mess, you kept bumping into each other and your hands kept touching and your breath caught every time. By the time breakfast was done you were dizzy with all of the blood that was rushing to your cheeks and lower stomach as each brush and accidental touch reminded you of your dream.

“You know, I didn’t get very good sleep last night and I’m feeling kind of off. I’m gonna stay here and take a nap, maybe join in the afternoon,” you told those around you.

“Gwil’s not kicking you in his sleep is he? He used to do that to me all the time when we were kids,” Geraint said with a laugh.

You laughed lightly in response, “No, nothing like that. Just a restless night. Have fun you guys.”

Then you went to your room and laid down on the made bed, staring at the ceiling as you waited for everyone to leave. When you heard the door close and no more footsteps followed, you walked into the living room and flopped on the couch.

“Can we talk?”

You just about jumped out of your skin and looked around, realizing you hadn’t noticed that Gwil was sitting in the armchair across from the couch. You sat up and hid your face in your hands and heard Gwil walk over and sit by you.

Then you looked up at him painfully, “Can we actually just never ever talk about it?”

Gwil got worried; he had wanted to talk to you about your feelings for each other, but he didn’t know what to do if you were just going to shut him down.

“Why?” was all he could think to say, trying to get some explanation.

“Because it’s so embarrassing,” you replied, looking away from him.

Gwil got a bit peeved that you would say that and scoffed, “Embarrassing?”

Now you were confused. He should understand why you were embarrassed. Then it dawned on you that you might be talking about two different things. “Wait, what did you want to talk about?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he said with a huff. Then he took in a deep breath, “What I wanted to talk to you about is that I have feelings for you. I wasn’t sure to trust them at first because we’re so close and I worried about transference or whatever, but it’s not that, it’s you.”

You felt the embarrassment completely drain from your body, replaced with happiness at his words. Although you were a little surprised, you were more than relieved that he felt the same as you. Smiling, you took Gwil’s hand in yours and told him, “Me too. It’s you, my feelings are all for you.”

Returning your smile, and with nothing to stop him or interrupt him this time, he leaned in and kissed you. It was much slower and more delicate than the one in your dream, but it was also infinitely better with the real Gwil.

Moving your free hand to cup his cheek, you deepened the kiss softly, teasing your tongue along his lower lip. He opened his mouth, moving his tongue with yours. Even though it was gentle, it was a deep kiss and still took your breath away.

You pulled away after a minute and breathed, “Wow.”

Gwil smiled, pressing his forehead to yours and repeated, “Wow.”

Then your lips connected again and Gwil’s hands moved one to your hair and one to your back, keeping you close to him. You couldn’t believe in how long you had known each other you had never done this. It was quite possibly the best feeling in the world, Gwil’s lips pressed to yours, the drag of his tongue, his strong hands on you, and you didn’t want to stop. That is, until Gwil pulled away. You followed his lips and he gave you a quick peck but pulled the rest of the way away after.

You looked at him, waiting for him to talk so he said a little awkwardly, “So what are we?”

Nervous laughter from you followed his question and you gave him a look.

“Well, I just think it would be good to answer that before anything else happens,” he defended.

“No, you’re right, you’re right, I was just surprised. Normally I have this conversation after something else happens,” you joked and then took a deep breath. “I, for one, want it all. I want to date you, to be your girlfriend, to kiss you, everything else. I want everything with you.”

Gwil breathed out a sigh of relief, “I want everything with you too.”

“Good,” you smiled, leaning back in for a kiss. Gwil indulged you for a few seconds but pulled away again.

You frowned and pouted, “What now? Haven’t we talked about everything?”

“Well, there was one more thing. As your boyfriend now,” he said with a cheeky smile, “I’d like to know about the dream you had this morning. A dream, it seemed, that was about me.”

You facepalmed and felt your cheeks get warm again, “This is exactly what I didn’t want to talk about, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Well I was thinking that as your boyfriend I could maybe try to help you recreate it,” he said with a wink and you felt heat pool in your lower stomach.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. Then you thought for a second, “But probably not in the kitchen.”

“It was in the kitchen?” Gwil asked, surprised and you nodded sheepishly. “No, maybe not in there. I do know of a nice big bed that we could use though.”

You smiled in excitement, standing up and pulling Gwil with you, saying flirtily, “Show me this bed.”

“As you wish,” Gwil said, grabbing your waist and picking you up. You squealed but wrapped your legs around his waist as his arms supported your thighs. Then he carried you down the hallway, your mixed laughter bouncing off the walls as you exchanged messy kisses on the way.

🎿🎿🎿

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[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.3]

Chapter: Supernova

Summary: Bucky goes on a date. 

Warnings:  Fluffy fluff. Nat being the best. 

A/N: This chapter would not have happened without my beta @lokissoul That’s not a joke. She’s a saint for putting up with my crap. Please don’t hate me, okay? This was important to understanding where Bucky is at in his life. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Orion takes off towards the swing set curls bouncing in the breeze as she runs through the open grassy field. She dodges other kids, toys and a few dogs on leashes, but it’s a path she’s perfected. She knows every rock and bump and hole that tries to keep her from getting to the playset. 

“Stay where I can see you and if anyone tries talking to you what do you do?” Nat shouts after her. Orion turns back to her aunt and holds up both fists, grinning. Nat laughs and waves her permission allowing the little girl to get back to top speed.

“Her daddy know you taught her to punch strangers?” Y/n asks, grinning.

“No,” Natasha admits as she leans back on the blanket they brought for their girls’ picnic, eyes glued on Orion as she started to swing herself back and forth on the lower set of monkey bars. 

“And I’m trusting you to keep it that way.”

Y/n laughs and props herself back against the tree behind them setting down her near-empty basket of fries. “Is Bucky working again tonight?”

“No, he’s got a date. It’s some girl he met through Sam. They go to the same gym or something? Sam is Steve’s husband by the way.” Nat shakes her head and sighs, “They are not going to make it.”

“Steve and Sam?” Y/n asks, sounding surprised even to her own ears. “You always talk about how gross it is that Steve loves his husband so much. Why do you say that?”

She laughs and looks over at Y/n. “Buck and the girl he’s taking out tonight, Zoe I think? Steve was born to follow Sam around like a puppy. Trust me on that.”

Ori yells for Y/n to look at her as she jumps off the swing. Y/n sits up right away and beams as brightly as she can for the little girl, shouting about how amazing her jump was. As if a little kid jumping off a swing was the most exciting thing Y/n has ever seen in her life.

“So,” Y/n begins to prod as Orion goes back to playing. “Why are Bucky and Zoe not going to make it?”

Nat sighs heavily. She was getting nowhere with these two. Y/n wasn’t even jealous that tall, dark and adorable was going on a date. Neither one seemed interested in the other. Nat was starting to think she was wasting her time. “Well for starters I don’t think Bucky will let himself fall for her and he didn’t seem overly excited about the date when I picked up Ori. He’s not going to let it go beyond tonight. Mark my words. It’s like he won’t let himself be happy.”

“I doubt he needs to find someone to be happy,” Y/n argues. “They seem to be doing just fine on their own. Ori is happy and healthy, and from what I saw he seemed happy, clearly healthy from the size of those biceps. They are their own cute little family. I think it’s nice. They just need each other to be happy, and that’s sweet.”

Natasha tosses her fry at her friend pelting her on the forehead, making Y/n winces. She rubs the spot on her forehead making Natasha roll her eyes at the gesture. 

“I’m not saying he has to be with someone to be happy. I’m saying, I’m starting to worry he’s not even open to giving love a chance. For example, he met this woman a week or so ago and I know they are perfect for each other. Same interests. She loves Ori. When I asked what he thought about her, he acted as if I asked him what he thought about dating Steve.”

Y/n snorts but shakes her head. Why was it so hard to believe that not everyone wanted to force love? Sometimes it simply needed to happen naturally. 

“Just because he didn’t fall in love at first sight doesn’t mean he’s closed off to love.”

Y/n tosses the fry she was smacked in the face with back into the basket in front of her and sighs, “Not every love story starts with some dramatic moment where they fall for one another. Falling in love can be simple and still be beautiful. In fact, some of the best love stories are full of hundreds of small sweet moments that lead to love. Those are real. Not some big grand meeting full of sparks that probably won’t exist beyond the first night.”

Nat sits up on the blanket and crosses her arms over her chest smirking at Y/n. The twinkle in her eye made Y/n’s stomach churn from her nerves. 

“What?” She asks, slightly embarrassed by her rambling. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing really. Just how perfect that woman is for him and how utterly stupid they both are.”

-------

Bucky had been nervous the entire night for a reason he couldn’t place. He’s been dating regularly since Orion was born. It’s not as if he stopped liking women the moment he became a dad. Most of the dates Bucky went on Steve called them hookups, not dates. He’s probably right, but Bucky doesn’t like to tell him that. It goes right to his head and then they all have to listen to him going on and on for weeks. It’s just not worth it most days.

This was what Steve called a ‘real grown-up date with potential.’ Bucky doesn’t know how Sam deals with him most days. He had met Zoe a few days before when he went to the gym with Sam. She was beautiful, big brown eyes and dark brown hair she had in braided pigtails for her class. He was going to have to ask her how to do that for Ori if their date went well. She even laughed at his dumb joke about how slow Sam was on the treadmill. Then for some reason unknown to him, it just spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it:

I’m off this Wednesday. You wanna grab dinner?

Much to his surprise, she agreed. They didn’t get a chance to talk much so she didn’t know anything about Orion. That was pretty typical for him though. He didn’t usually bring Orion up unless he felt like it was going to go beyond a first date and it was too early on to tell if they would. He’s learned to just live in the moment and not put too much pressure on one moment or one person. The little girl snuggled up with her aunt is the only thing he needs to be whole. 

Anyone else added to their duo would just be a cherry on top.

Bucky rests his hand on her lower back as he guides her out of the restaurant and holds the door open for her on the way out. Zoe leans into his side unexpectedly, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders as they stroll towards his car. He dips his head down by her ear and whispers, “I know I said it already but you look beautiful.”

Zoe tries and fails miserably to hide her smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Much better than the ballcap and sweaty gym shorts.”

Bucky chuckles and nods in agreement. He wasn’t looking his best when he asked her out, that was for sure. “I’m not sure why you said yes when I looked like that. You do know you are wildly out of my league right?”

“Oh, I know,” She teases. 

“I just had a good feeling about you I guess,” She murmurs as they reach his car and presses herself against his chest. Bucky’s hands fall to her hips as she leans up on her tiptoes pressing her lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that left him seeing stars or took his breath away, but it was enough to leave him wanting more the second her lips left his.

“I wouldn’t mind… going back to your place.” She says, smiling up at him. “I don’t really want the night to end just yet.”

Bucky grins and presses a chaste kiss to her lips as he pulls the passenger door open. “You read my mind darlin’.”

--------

It was a little past eight, and the smell of coffee was filling the kitchen. Undoubtedly it had reached his bedroom waking the beautiful woman who was sound asleep when he had crept downstairs to start their breakfast. All in all the night had gone better than Bucky had thought it was going to go, but he was still on the fence if this was going to go past today. 

Yeah, he had fun but nights like last night are few and far between for him.

His life was a lot for anyone to take on and he doesn’t just mean the fact that dating him means you are dating more than just him, his job is too much for most. Most people can’t handle spending every day wondering if their spouse will make it back home to them and that’s okay. He knows he’s a lot to take on and it’s one of the reasons he hasn’t been in a real relationship in nearly a decade.

The soft sound of small feet padding along the hardwood floor behind him made him smile. It was nice to wake up next to her though. He slowly turns around and smiles the second he lays eyes on her coming down the backstairs.

“I see you found the kitchen.”

She laughs and walks over to where he’s leaning against the counter. “Yes, helps that the stairs lead directly into the kitchen.” Bucky grins and rests his elbows on the countertop pushing a cup of coffee towards Zoe.

“Thank you,” She chirps, she was a little too happy after a night of drinking if you ask Bucky, but he was going to keep that to himself.

Zoe glances around his house, and her heart sinks as she begins to take in everything that was around her. How did she not notice all this last night? Tequila and a gorgeous half-naked man can blur your vision, and there was a lot of both last night.  Everywhere she looked there were stuffed animals and toys. They were all over the couch and in a big box in front of the seat in the bay window, a mini easel that held several colorful paintings was in the corner by the long wall bookshelves that held more than just books  and a bright teal and pink raincoat was hanging on the hook by the front door. Her eyes fell on the fridge where photos of Bucky and a little girl were displayed proudly. She was so wrapped up in everything around them; she didn’t even realize he had been talking the entire time.

“–I can whip up pancakes if you want, but I don’t have eggs. I was told eggs for breakfast make for an awful day, so I haven’t been buying them as often.”

“Um,” She forces a smile and nods towards the photos on the fridge. “You have a daughter?”

He looks at the pictures and finger paintings on the fridge. There’s one that was full of stars and planets and comets, she made that with Y/n and it’s probably his favorite. He takes in his fridge and a deep breath before looking back at Zoe. Here goes nothing.

“Yeah, I have a little girl.  She’s almost five. Her name is Orion.” He watches as she sets the mug down on the counter and the relaxed atmosphere quickly changes to something much harsher. It’s suddenly cold despite the furnace working over time and while it’s been warmer this winter, you wouldn’t know it from frost forming inside.

“So you get her every other weekend or something?”

“No,” Bucky huffs out a sarcastic laugh. Why does everyone assume he isn’t a full time parent? As if he couldn't handle taking care of her full-time because he’s the dad and therefore not as fit to be a single parent? 

“She’s at her aunt’s for the night. I have full custody.”

She nods her head and starts to nervously chew her bottom lip. It didn’t take much to weed out the ones that weren’t going to work that was for sure. She pats the counter and looks at the clock over the stove, “Listen, I should go. I have a class in a few hours, and I need to get a shower and grab clean clothes…”

This isn’t the first time it has happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Bucky catches her hand as she tries to slip past him and places a light kiss to her cheek. Just because she didn’t want to be involved in his life more than she already was, didn’t mean he had to hate her or push her out the door. 

“I meant what I said last night. I had a good time. It doesn’t have to mean more than what it was. Let me call you an Uber. I don’t want you trying to hitch a ride or paying for one yourself.”

He had his phone out, and the app open before she could argue. He wasn’t going to let her figure out her own way home when he was the one that picked her up. If he thought she wouldn’t be completely uncomfortable, he would have offered to drive her home, but by the awkward smile she’s giving him he doubts she would want that.

Zoe returns the kiss to his cheek and whispers a quick thank you before disappearing upstairs to gather her things.

A text message pops up right as he finishes calling for a car and he grins at the sight. His baby girl was begging to come home (with help typing from Aunt Nattie he was sure), and that could not come at a better time.

[N]: Can I come home daddy? I missed you!

[B]: You’ve got no idea how much I missed you, comet. Aunt Nattie I am at home and waiting on you two.

Zoe’s car left a few hours before Natasha had pulled up with Orion, so it gave Bucky enough time to hop in the shower and clean up from the night before. Turns out he reverts back to his college days when he has too much tequila and orders a pizza in the middle of the night. He does not remember that happening but judging by the half-eaten box on the floor of his bedroom he was the only one that partook in that late night snack. 

“Daddy!” Orion squeals as she runs into the house and slams into his legs making him stumble back a few steps. An overly excited four-year-old and a hangover do not mix well. 

“I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

He grins and bends down to place a kiss on the top of her head.“I missed you, comet. Why don’t you go get your things unpacked and make sure everything is ready for class tomorrow.” 

Class. Not Pre-K. He’s learned the hard way. She’s a big girl and Pre-K doesn’t sound grown-up enough. Orion tightens her arms around his neck and juts her bottom lip out as far as it will go, looking up at him through her lashes. Bucky shakes his head and kisses her nose. 

“Oh, I don’t think so. No pouting. Get moving. I’m gonna talk to Aunt Nattie for a second and then we can go get lunch?”

“Tacos?” She asks, practically bouncing from excitement.

“Whatever you want baby doll.”

Orion let go of his legs and was scrambling up the stairs without another word leaving Bucky chuckling. He leans back against the counter avoiding the glare he was getting from Natasha. For whatever reason, he felt like she was disappointed in him and no one wants to see a disappointed Natasha glaring at them.

“So,” Natasha prods. “How did last night go with what’s her name?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “You know her name, and it went fine. She booked it this morning when she realized I’m a full-time dad though. Can’t really blame her. I probably would have done the same before Ori was born.”

“Shame that didn’t work,” Natasha deadpans. “Why don’t you try online dating?”

He winces and shakes his head, “Not interested in doing that whole scene.”

Natasha sighs and peeks up the stairs for any sign of Orion before asking the question that’s been weighing on her mind, “Are you ever going to let someone in those high walls?”

“Tasha–”

“No, I’m serious James. You’ve been alone since Ori was born. Just one night stand after one night stand. Are you going to ever open yourself up and let someone else in your heart besides Orion?”

Bucky knows Natasha means well. He really does, but her worries are not built on anything substantial. He’s not closed off to love or women. In fact, he’s had more dates than he can count over the last five years, but none led to more than one night. Not one of those women were the one, and he’s not going to waste his time on someone who isn’t right for him and isn’t right for Ori.

When she finds him, he will be more than ready to let her in, but he won’t settle just to keep everyone around him from worrying.

“Look, if the right woman comes along, we will be here waiting. I’m not gonna force something because everyone thinks we are missing somethin’ that we aren’t. It has to be the right woman at the right time.” 

Bucky leans over and kisses her cheek and whispers with a cheeky grin, “Besides the only women, I need in my life are you and Ori.”

Nat rolls her eyes and pushes him away from her. 

“I’m married, Barnes. You should have made your move years ago. Don’t forget family dinner is on you this week and no pizza or anything else that comes out of a takeout container. You know the rules. Homecooked meals only.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Make that chicken pasta thing you do that’s really good. It always impresses everyone that you can make something that doesn’t taste awful.”

“Fine. Fine. Don’t you got a husband to take care of? I’m tryin’ to spend time with my best girl, and you’re yelling at me.”

“Zip it. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready,” She tells him with a grin. “Oh, and don’t forget. Y/n is coming to dinner. That’s not a problem is it?”

Bucky clears his throat and tries his best to look as casual as he can when he shrugs his shoulders. He looks around the house at the stuffed animal and toy tornado that destroyed his living room. “I should probably get all this cleaned up before she shows up is what you’re saying?”

Nat smiles and shakes her head, assuring him with complete confidence, “No. She won’t mind the mess. She likes Orion more than she likes you. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to go say goodbye to my niece.”

Bucky watches as Natasha walks up the stairs graceful as always, his eyes land on the stack of books on the table that sits on the wall behind the couch. Nat wasn’t wrong. Y/n loved Orion enough to send him home with his own stack of books just to ensure they were both happy. If Natasha liked Y/n, she couldn’t be too bad, and they hadn’t added an outsider to the group since before Orion was born. One more friend wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

They were all due for a little change, and Y/n could be just what they all needed.

Previous // Next

[blizzardfluffykpop]

The Bet

Summary: Kiss me under the mistletoe let’s get that dough.

Oneshot

Mark Tuan X Reader

Not Requested

Prompt: 1. “I bet you can’t make that girl/guy, kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night”

Christmas seemed to get more and more boring with each year but when you had friends like I do and clubs that stayed open on that day, it seemed to not matter anymore. I get dressed up, looking nice, to have a few of my friends pick up. We danced for a while, before going up into the VIP booths, and talked about things, everyone but me and the designated driver drinking. Margret fully drunk at this point, not one with a very high alcohol tolerance, but drinks more than all of us do bets me:  “I bet you can’t make that guy, kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night” While pointing at the guy, she was talking about, I glare and say, “How much you bet?” “I’ll bet you a hundred” We shake on it and we put it on a napkin so she can’t bail. 

The joke was on her, I’ve known this guy for a long time. We were childhood friends and looking at him now, he looked stunning in that suit. Dancing the night away, when I come over to him and exclaim, “Hey Mark! How has life been?” “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” “There’s a lot you don’t expect from me isn’t there~,” I say in a teasing tone, and I continue, “Let me get to the point, you see my friends up there made a bet that I couldn’t kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night… And they bet a hundred on it, and I’ll split it half and half with you-” He shrugs his shoulders and tells me, “Well, what are you waiting for?” “Well, can I try to court you?” “Try? I think you already have over the years” That leaves me in shock, “You mean to tell me you liked me after all these years-” He shrugs again, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Does this come as such a shock?” Shaking my head rapidly, “I had the biggest crush on you throughout high school, and you didn’t even think to look at me twice, back then” He sighs looking down at his feet before looking back up at me intently, “Well, I was kind of busy making out with Jinyoung to get over you, or at least make you jealous, and try to rile you up so you asked me out… Neither worked” Groaning, “Fuck I wish I knew that sooner, I would have asked you out way sooner.” “Well, what do you say, you take me out on a date after we kiss under the mistletoe, and get that dough?” 

We move over to a branch of mistletoe, and Mark takes the lead, dipping me and kissing me on the lips. Making out for a while, we start slow dancing, I giggle with him. As we twirl around for a bit before, I say I'm going to go get the money, I kiss his cheek and leave; "I can't believe you did it" as they hand me the hundred. I smirk, "Next time, don't pick someone I know" my friend gaps at me like a fish out of water. I sprint down and over to Mark and we go out for the first time, as lovers. 

You see I've loved this man since we were in high school, we lived across the street from each other, our parents always saying how cute we would be together. Once, we became close, they had thought anytime now one of them was going to fall for each other. And this whole time he liked me back, and I simply can't stop thinking about that. The moment I realized how I felt was when I had gotten into a wreck. I called him and he was down there in minutes consoling me, and I notice how much he cared for me. Considering I was on the opposite side of town, and it should have taken thirty minutes to reach me from his house. He only took five minutes, which he claims was because all the lights were green. Considering it is mostly stop signs, and 25 miles per hour through the streets. I don't think he stopped at any, by the time he was there and holding a shaking crying me. To find out he loved me all that time, makes sense because what sane person would disobey every traffic law if it wasn't because of someone they loved. 

Turns out almost everything is closed on Christmas we were about to just go to one of our houses and make dinner when we see a little restaurant opened. The neon letters, barely noticeable, they were probably haven’t worked on since they were first opened. We rush over, and he opens the door for me, "My love" I roll my eyes, winking at him as I walk through the door. The black and white tiles and the cat clock giving the vibe of the 50s, everywhere you looked was a new decade. The jukebox playing 60s music, the chairs look to be from the 90s. But it all felt so right, and so homey, in a weird way. We sit in booths that seemed to come right out of the movie Grease. An older lady comes out on roller blades, gives a menu and rolls away. I look at Mark, this place is so weird but yet so cozy. As the lady comes back, "Sorry I had to deal with an old friend. What would you two cuties like?" We blush before I could answer Mark says, "A monster chocolate milkshake, two straws please" She smiles at us, "Anything else honeys? Or would you like more time?" I politely ask for more time, and she smiles and rolls away. 

After we order, I casual place my hand on his, he grins at me before intertwining them. "I can't believe we waited this long" He smiles, "Yeah me neither, it seems like yesterday I was fantasizing that you were taking me to prom instead of Jinyoung. Yeah, he was a prince, but he wasn't you." He tells me softly, "I wish I had known Mark, I would have danced with you all night long that night instead of him." He kisses my hand, and I continue to speak, "I'd say we both waited too long, but why talk like that. Because you're going to be stuck with me even longer." He laughs and I slightly chuckle, and we both take a sip from our chocolate milkshake. The little old lady comes out with our food, and she asks, "If you don't mind how long have you two been together?" I look at him before I answer, "Well, officially it's our first date. But I've been in love with him for a long time" he squeezes my hand, "I've loved them longer-" "Nuh-uh" "Yeah-huh" she chuckles, "I hope this is the first date of many! You seem to both be a perfect match for each other, my mother used to tell me when two people are meant to be you can see a heart shape form around them, and I certainly see that with you two. This is a strong bond, yeah you may lose faith in each other, but it's a choice to find that faith again. And I believe you two can do it." And with that, she's gone, again. It seems she likes that gone with the wind idea. 

Our hands intertwine while we eat, not much conversation, my thoughts clouded up in her words. Love is a choice, not a feeling, you have to choose to look in their eyes and find the stars not just wait for them to appear. I have faith we can do it too if we waited this long we can hold up with each other. It's only been a few hours with him as an official couple… but it feels as though we've been together forever. Looking in his eyes I see the stars, and I hope he sees the same in mine. 

Little did I know is that he sees the whole universe and then some in my eyes. We start talking about meaningless things, "Do you wanna spend the rest of the night at your house or mine?" "I don't think you want to see my roommates mess, because I have to tell him three weeks in advance because he's a messy individual…" "It’s your dog isn't it?" He laughs and nods, "Yeah, that lazy bum never cleans." "I think the owner might be the lazy one" He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, but you still love me right?" I laugh, "Sadly" he kisses my hand again. 

She comes out with two big slices of chocolate cake, "It's on the house, you two remind me of my wife and me in the old days. Here's your check, and meet me at the counter when you're done" We thank her, digging in, "Man she's so nice, can we come here again?" I ask, "Anytime babe." I grin as I finish, rushing to pay, because I know he'd tried to pay for us like he used to every time we went to the café to study and we got treats. Its payback time. He grumbles at me, "You took my turn" "I've never gotten a turn, it's only fair" He pouts, as she gives us our change. "You kids are too cute, I hope I see you two soon again!" We tell her we will, thanking her again and walking out with big smiles on our faces. He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers, "So how is the pizza job going" "Strong, I'm the manager there… and I'm planning to save up enough money to buy the shop across the road to make that flower shop I used to always talk about." "Really? Wait is it the building right there?" I nod with a smile on my face, "Oh I was planning on making that a mechanic shop" I stop turning to look at him, "Well how about a flower shop in the front and a mechanic shop in the back? We'd make a fortune… with people usually needing to get their car fixed up, sees flowers that would make their significant other feel loved… they buy it while they get their car fixed. They fix up both their love lives at the same time. Their baby, the car is all fixed, and their romantic relationship or platonic relationship is fixed too." He kisses my forehead, "I knew there was a reason I fell for you… you always have the greatest ideas"

--

Needless to say, we bought the shop together, I quit my job at the pizza place becoming full time at my flower shop. Teaching Mark about the types of flowers and meanings, as he teaches me how to rebuild a motor which consists of the engine and transmission. 

We live above the shop now, him coming home with grease on his face, and his coveralls dingy, throwing them into the laundry. His white shirt and blue jeans still are the death of me after all these years. Or if I come in later after consulting a client on which flowers would better suit their needs. Which meanings are what, those orange lilies are not so nice especially if you want to live with them for the rest of your life. With dirt splashing the sides of my face, and soil caked under my nails. Even after the long days, we still find ourselves collapsing on the bed to talk, and hold. One of us being shooed off to take a shower, because the other one just got clean and doesn't want soil/grease all over them. 

It's been a while since then and every month we go to the restaurant, called Loving, it was named after her wife, whose last name she took. It's our 3rd anniversary we go there when she smiles at me and winks. I cock my eyebrow up at her, she became our grandmother, so if we ever need advice we come to her. So it's no surprise she would know something before me. 

We sit down eating a special that Bibi cooked up for us, certainly not on the house anymore. But a bit cheaper, since we're veteran customers to this place. I get up and flipping through the songs to find Marvin Gaye's song How Sweet it is to be Loved by You I turn it on and twirl and start walking to our booth to see Mark on one knee, "Did you lose a pen baby?" I ask rushing over, going to help find whatever he lost. When I look down as he shakes his head, "No,... but (Y/n) would you do me the favor, after all these years, be mine…" Before I can answer, he goes on, "I thought long and hard on how to do this, we had talked about getting married before, but I had no idea how to propose to you. So after long talks with Bibi, I decided to do it here. Where our first date took place, where we made it official, where I decided that from then on out that I was going to be there for you 110%. That every day from then on I looked at the lover of my dreams. The one who I knew deep down inside I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but it was finally becoming true. That when Bibi told us that we were meant to be my heart soared and still hasn't come back down from that high… that I want to make it official with you, I hope it isn't too soon. And if you need more time-" "Mark please stop right there, I've talked to you about marrying you a lot, because I have wanted to spend the rest of my life with you for a long time, and you're truly the man of my dreams. Nothing you can do that can change that. Now the only thing I can see that you lost is your ability to marry anyone else." He slides the ring on to my finger, "That's not a loss for me…" He pulls me in and kisses me deeply just like he did that night at the bar. Bibi comes over, "You're grossing out all my customers-" "There's no one here but us-" "Well, you mushy gushy kids, are grossing me out. I better be the maid of honor. Or so help me, Mark." We laugh at her as she sticks out her tongue. 

To say the least, Christmases with him, became less boring, he made me feel something for the holiday again, and it made me feel so good. Our first Christmas together as a married couple was weird because it was still objectively the same, but the wedding photos decorating our mantle surrounded by garland was different. And yes, Bibi was the Maid of Honor, to clear up any questions about that. It felt like I’ve been married to him a lot longer than that, he never fails to surprise me. I wake up to him coming into our bedroom with Hydrangeas and Carnations, I giggle our first anniversary together as a married couple is what the carnations resemble, while the Hydrangeas resemble our fourth anniversary together. Lasting vows and joy for years to come the Carnations scream; appreciation and gratefulness for the two of us being together, the Hydrangeas. “You’re probably asking yourself, how does Mark know what flowers to get? Well, its simple I listened to you and I also asked Bibi for help” I laugh, hands gesturing for him to come here, I have a vase strategically placed on our bedside table and carefully place them there. Pulling him to my arms, kissing his nose, I reach behind my head, underneath the pillow where the box laid thankfully unharmed. “Bibi and I went shopping for hours for the perfect gift for you. And I don’t know if you’ll like it or need it, but this for you”I say handing him the long but small in width box, “Babe, anything you get me, I’ll like and you know it” He carefully unties it and pulls it up, and it’s a long silver tire gauge with the words engraved on it, ‘I love you, but the tires are low on my car’ He looks over at me with a laugh, and kisses me, “Thank you, I’ll fix the tires tomorrow, but would you mind spending all day in the house?” I nod, and he places the tire gauge on the nightstand and wraps his arms around me, as I wrap my arms around him, “Merry Christmas, Flower” I look up at him, “Merry Christmas, Grease” He rolls his eyes at me, and pulls me closer into him, my arms wrapping around his torso with ease and we fall back to sleep together.

[holdthosebees]

Never Quite Free

Author’s Note: Part 2 of my series, WKELTAOTTMGATMASFAB. Part 1 and explanation here. In this installment: Jon and Martin, in (web-induced) retirement.

Pairing: Jon/Martin, kind of

Quote: Just the whole damned song.

It shouldn’t be possible, the level of domesticity they fall into. They move out into the countryside, away from London and the Institute, and into a tiny little house with a blue door and a neat little garden plot. Fewer people means fewer temptations on Jon’s part, although sometimes he passes someone in the produce aisle or in line to buy coffee and just knows, in that terrible visceral way, and he wants. If Martin is with him, and he usually is, he’ll put a hand on Jon’s shoulder or back and steer him away, the touch gentle but firm. If Martin isn’t with him, Jon will ball his own hands into fists in his pockets and bite down on his tongue until the urge vanishes or the person leaves. Some days, it’s all he can do not to chase after them. Martin gives him a worry stone with a depression like a thumbprint in the center, and its weight in his pocket is both promise and constraint. Another anchor.

    Martin gets a job as an assistant at a bookshop. It doesn’t pay much, but they have the funds they took from the Institute when they left, which they know no one will come looking for. Basira promised them as much, when she took over as head. It was enough to buy the house, and it’s enough that Jon doesn’t have to work, not yet. Instead he spends his days cleaning and gardening and cooking and trawling the internet for supernatural forums, tracking any sign of the lightless flame, or the web. It isn’t enough. Basira sends him statements every month, wrapped up neatly in a cardboard box. These also aren’t enough. 

When he gets the package Jon spends the next three days holed up in his room, reading, devouring. He is no longer the Archivist, but once you are marked you can never return to what you were. Martin leaves food on a tray outside of the door and knocks every night to remind him to sleep. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. When he emerges finally after those three days Martin takes the rest of the statements up to the attic for later, then manhandles him into the shower. Their life together is full of many petty intimacies, some of them uncomfortable; Martin’s hands against his scalp while he washes out his hair is one of Jon’s favorites, although he would never admit it out loud. He can tip his head back under the hot water, sated and safe, and allow himself a short period of rest. 

It doesn’t come easy. The nightmares haven’t stopped, although the new ones come less frequently. One morning he remarks to Martin over breakfast that perhaps he is outliving the statement givers. He makes a joke about hunting them down and killing them for a good night’s sleep, and Martin purses his lips and unfolds his morning paper a little too roughly in response. Later, Jon insists on doing the dishes even though he cooked, and Martin insists on helping even though he’s wearing a decent button up because he has a shift soon, and they even sing a long a little to the radio as they clean. 

This is something Jon has discovered about Martin since they moved in together: he likes to sing, is good at it if he thinks no one is listening, but will try to hit the high notes even if they’re way out of his range. It was annoying, until it wasn’t. And then eventually it was annoying again, but a different, softer kind of annoying, and Jon felt comfortable in the fact that even if he complained Martin would not stop singing, not entirely. 

There’s a cat in the bookstore where Martin works, and Jon starts bringing him lunch as an excuse to see the cat, and then just to get out of the house. This is how he meets Martin’s coworkers: Allen, the owner, who is slowly going deaf. His granddaughter, Kelly, who smells like bubblegum and has never left this tiny town. Amina, who keeps lizards and asks Jon leading questions about how he and Martin met and how long they’ve been roommates, and how nice it is that they’ve found each other. Jon doesn’t bother correcting her. There aren’t words to describe the ways in which he and Martin are connected to one other, not in English, but the closest one is probably husband. 

The world goes on. Jon gets occasional emails from Daisy with rambling updates, most of the information personal. Mixed into the snippets of office gossip and meditation on new tattoos are bits of important information: the Lonely was going to attempt another ritual, the Vast made an attack on the archive, Basira came in one morning and found her entire office covered in cobwebs. Always long after the fact, too long for him to be of any use. He tries not to miss it.

Whenever he thinks about returning to the Archive he remembers the door in his mind, and it is only the thrumming of the thread that binds him to Martin that prevents him from trying to go back. Even for a moment. Just to see a sliver of that endless ocean of knowledge, pure and beautiful. It makes his head ache just imagining it, and he can feel the press of Martin’s concerned disapproval. 

They are tethered to each other, and eventually to the house as well, and Jon does his best to make peace with that. He mostly succeeds, although not without incident. It is five years after they moved in together, five and a half since what Jon has privately and sardonically started to refer to their ‘wedding night,’ when Jude Perry finds them. Martin is at work. Jon is busy in the garden, weeding out the basil. The summer sun is hot on his back, and he stops to wipe sweat off his forehead and grab a drink of water when he sees her. 

She’s leaning on the fence, her arms crossed, watching him. When they make eye contact, she waves, a sarcastic little flip of the hand. Jon stands slowly--his legs aren’t what they used to be, are aging as fast as his mostly-grey hair--and walks down the garden path towards her. He stops three feet away, his burned hand tucked out of sight in his pocket. 

“What do you want?” he says. Once, it would have stopped Jude Perry cold, holding her in place until he’d drained her of information and fear. Now, she only laughs. 

“Don’t even try it, Archivist,” she says. “Except, you’re not the archivist anymore, are you? Pathetic. I was just in the area, thought I’d drop by. See where the Mother of Puppets stashed you away.” 

“Don’t try anything,” Jon says. He puts a little force behind it, voice dropping into a growl. 

“Or what?” Jude is clearly enjoying herself. The wooden fence post has started to smoke where it meets her skin. “You’ll throw a trowel at me? Ooo, scary.”

“I might, if you don’t go away.” 

“Tell me,” she says, tilting her head to the side, “does it hurt, being put out to pasture like a lame mare? Knowing that your little friends in the institute are harnessing the power that should have been yours? Does it rankle, being shackled at the leg to that useless man--”

“That’s enough,” Jon says, with more confidence than he feels. He hefts the trowel menacingly. “Tell me what you’re doing here, or get out.” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Archivist,” Jude Perry says. Her fingers tighten on the rail, and the smell of woodsmoke fills the air. “I could burn this all down around your ears. Maybe you’d even thank me, eventually, for freeing you. If I don’t kill you first.”

“No,” Jon says. “I don’t think you can.”

Jude Perry says nothing. Her upper lip peels back, revealing teeth. 

“If you could,” Jon continues, emboldened, “you’d have done it already. I don’t think the web will let you. For whatever reason, it wants me alive. And you’re not powerful enough to fight the web, not yet. Not on your own.” 

“You’re pathetic,” Jude Perry says. “There’s nothing here worth burning.” She turns away, gives him a jaunty salute as she leaves. Over her shoulder, she calls, “You can’t pretend forever, you know!” 

Jon watches her go. He has clenched his burnt hand too hard; it throbs where his fingernails dug into the skin. Martin will be home in three hours, at which point they will make dinner in companionable silence. If it’s a nice night, they’ll take chairs out to the back deck, and eat while watching the stars. Jon will ask Martin about work, and Martin will ask Jon about the garden. They’ll ignore the strands that bind them together so tightly that sometimes Jon takes in a breath and feels Martin let it out, and they’ll ignore the fact that Jon barely picks at his food and Martin flinches and goes still whenever he sees a house centipede or an ordinary earthworm, and later on in bed they will cling to one another and whisper where only the night can hear them of the dead, of Tim and Sasha and Martin’s mother and everything else they’ve lost, or else they’ll lie in silence and wait for the tide of distant and unforgiving dreams to break. “I know,” Jon says. Then he turns, and walks back to the garden. There is still work to be done before nightfall, and the basil isn’t going to weed itself.

[09yards]

Night Glo

You alone is enough. Tell me, can we work this whole thing out?

part one of the series

“Why would you give a ten-year-old a knife?”

“He felt unsafe.”

“Now I feel unsafe!”

“Would you like a knife?”

“Don’t you mean another knife? I’m good I have enough weapons on me.”

“I thought we agreed no more knives in the bedroom!”

“Fuck off Johnny. Frankly, you can’t complain at me for giving Jisung a knife, he’s sixteen not ten. How old was Mark when you first gave him a weapon?”

“Shit, he was fifteen.”

“Sorry, I thought we’d established that grown men don’t mumble. Speak clearly to me Johnny.”

“He was fifteen when he first had a gun. B-but it was only in training, he didn’t leave the centre with any weapons! I swear!”

“I gave Jisung the knife because he gets scared about people breaking into his room, it’s never happened and I’m the only one who ever wakes him aside from Kun who rarely does so; we know what we’re doing. He happens to be trained to use it too but as you know, we’re planning for Kun to start teaching him on a more permanent basis. I can’t keep him from violence but I can make sure he does something good.”

“Now, strip.”

“Oh, angry sex? Tae you are killing me today.”

“No. We agreed no weapons in the bedroom, get them out.”

“Hey, it works for Yuta and Sicheng apparently! Maybe we could give it a go sometime?”

“I really, really hope you’re joking. For your own sake.”

“Are we done fighting now then? I’d very much like to kiss you and not to be brash or anything but I would very much like a cuddle session with the countries scariest mafia boss who is definitely the little spoon whether he admits it or not.”

“Shut up and kiss me already you twat.”

“Ooo, talk dirty to me... baby boy.”

≪ ≫

Johnny loved waking up to the sight of Taeyong curled up into his side. Their bed sheets tangled between them as were their naked bodies, a sliver of moonlight spilling into their home - not enough to see clearly but enough for Johnny to make out the sharp structure of Taeyong’s body, his pale skin almost sparkling at the contact.

It was moments like this he really thought it was worth it. The hiding and the lying was all worth it to spend time with the one he loved. Even if it was only for a few hours - it was enough.

But, once again, he was painstakingly brought back to reality at the sound of a crash downstairs. They lived alone. Carefully trying to slither out of bed, untangling his limbs from being intertwined with his lovers.

“Johnny, it’s cold and late, where are you going?”

“Sshh, don’t worry, I think there’s someone in the house. I’ll take care of it, go back to sleep.”

“Just don’t make a mess, blood is a bitch to clean off the walls and I deep cleaned the house yesterday.”

So, Johnny made his way downstairs, grabbing his gun from the pile of his clothes, as quietly as he could, missing the steps where he knew they would creak and keeping close to the wall. As he turned to go the kitchen where the back door was now left slightly ajar, he noticed the lamp on in the living room and the soft muttering of “what the fuck?”

Clicking the safety off, he gently pushed the door open, “Freeze! Don’t move, who are you and why are you in my house? Talk.”

That was when the anonymous figure turned to face Johnny, the most definitely not anonymous figure and in fact very, very familiar figure.

“Dude, what the actual fuck. You live here? You’re in what looks like a long-term relationship with Taeyong?! And why the fuck are you naked?”

“Jaehyun, your order tonight was working the bar, was it not? I think I’m the one who should be asking the questions.”

“Sorry boss but we’re all sick of you not telling us where you’ve been going! It was either Lucas or me who was going to follow you tonight and you better be glad it was me – for both your sake and Lucas’s because Yuqi is not doing well with his shifts getting longer. Now, I’ve explained my part - you need to start talking.”

“I’ll go put some clothes on then I’ll explain everything, I swear.”

“Hey babe, it’s Jaehyun, got some business to discuss - don’t worry he’ll stay downstairs he doesn’t know anything.”

“Too bad, I hate seeing you put clothes on.”

≪ ≫

“Okay boss, let’s hear it.”

“Right. Well, yeah, I live here and have done for nearly four years. Me and Tae have been together for five years, this time anyway - we were together for a couple years back in high school too. It’ll be six in a couple weeks.”

“Jesus Christ. I know the two of you were never rivals but you come home at the end of the day to him?”

“He usually comes home to me to be honest; they’ve got more business he has to finish up whereas we’ve only got the bar and the garage.

Look, I know this is going to be hard for you to understand but we are in love, we’re happy and who knows maybe we will work together in the future. I want to marry him Jae, I’m planning to propose on our anniversary. If he says yes, we will all be working together - whether you like it or not.”

“I just can’t believe we never knew. And that you felt like you had to hide this when you didn’t, we’d always support you, we love you. At least you didn’t hide it because you never told any of us you were gay!”

“Literally everyone aside from Lucas is gay, even he dated some guys before he got with Yuqi. The bar is a whole gay parade. I’ve literally talked about how hot certain people are with you, did you think I was gushing over Namjoon’s man tiddies and dimples because I thought it was the right thing to do? No, he’s hot and Jin is one lucky guy.”

“I’m so going to have to call Jaemin and get him to stop trying to set you up with Kun then if you’re practically married. Jaem did say he was being pretty stubborn about it though so to be fair I really think he just wasn’t interested.”

“Of course, Kun’s not going to agree to a date with me when he’s the one helping me pick an engagement ring.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Oh, fuck indeed. Honestly you guys are such morons at times. And if you’re here, who’s working the bar?”

“Oh wow, keeping quiet, now are we? I thought I told you about working Mark at night, he’s too young and he has to go to school! I enrolled him in that private academy place for a reason and its costing a bloody fortune, you could at least make sure he goes. You’re dismissed Jaehyun. I don’t want to see you out of place for a while, and don’t breathe a word of this to anyone else. I will not hesitate to punish you.”

“Yes sir, sorry boss. It won’t happen again – I’ll tell everyone I came up with nothing.”

“Good night Jaehyun.”

≪ ≫

“JOHNNY!”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Whose muddy boot marks are in my living room and kitchen. If it was Jaehyun oh my god so help me, he treks through the forest when it’s been raining for two weeks straight.”

“Sorry babe, I didn’t have chance to lecture him on his boots with everything else.”

“What’s happening, is it work?”

“Just some issues with an, uhm, with a delivery yeah. New shipment, new items, you know how it goes.”

“Did Ten send you new weapons?”

“No, no. It’s a shipment for the garage, new parts so hopefully I’ll finally get the 1957 porsche working.”

“Sure, okay. Pancakes?”

“I gotta dash, I love you.” With a quick kiss to the forehead Johnny was gone, practically running out the door.

≪ ≫

“I am so sorry I’m late Kun, I know you don’t get much time. Taeyong was questioning me on some business this morning, couldn’t exactly tell him the new shipment I was talking about was an engagement ring.”

“It’s not a problem, I’m only tutoring Jisung today. They gave me the day off, something about the chairman being worried at the number of hours I’ve been working. Oh well, gives me more time to find this ring – he’s going to be so happy.”

“Thank you, this really does mean a lot.”

“I am happy to help, two of my best friends getting engaged? Count me in.”

“Do you think I’m crazy for asking us to join our businesses if we do get married?”

“Not at all, I spoke to him about it once. He said it’d be nice to have someone to share it all with, he does get lonely sometimes.”

“I would give him the world if I could, every moon and every star. I just want him to be happy.”

“You make him happy Johnny, more than you could ever know.”

≪ ≫

“Hey, I know, I am so, so sorry I am late but I had to stop by the garage on my way home.”

“It’s fine, I was late too so I just picked up a takeaway, well Sicheng did and I got it from him but not the point. It’s in the oven heating up now.”

“Good, we need to have a quick conversation.”

“Johnny, what’s wrong you look all serious?”

“Happy anniversary Tae.” He was clutching a small blue velvet box in his hand, good thing it was strong or he probably would’ve broken it with the death grip he had on it.

“I told you not to get me anything.”

“And, contrary to popular belief, I am smart enough to know that meant get you something. But, you don’t like roses and besides they’re expensive and only die anyway, so I got you this instead.”

Hesitantly, he got down on one knee, then proceeded to struggle to open the box and Tae couldn’t help but let out a small snicker.

“Fuck, oh there we go. Will you, please, do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Of course, you idiot. Yes, yes, yes.”

Johnny pulled him in for a soft kiss, sweet and tender.

“Kiss me properly now Johnny.”

“Always so demanding.”

Johnny leant down once again, pulling Taeyong into a passionate, deeper, hungry kiss. One hand holding his waist, the other reaching down to cup the back of his thighs. With a quick tap to his leg and a breathy “Jump”, the kiss turned needy, pressed against the wall – the sound of whiny moans soon filling their kitchen.

“You know Tae,” kiss to his jaw, “I think that ring,” kiss to his neck, “will look a lot better” kiss to his collarbone, “when it’s the only thing you’re wearing”, kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear – producing a breathless moan of Johnny’s name.

“Johnny, bedroom now.”

“Takeout can wait?”

“We can eat later?”

With hungry eyes and a quick smirk towards Tae once again, “I think I could eat now.”

“Oh really, what kind of food were you thinking?”

“You.”

[got7btsandskzimagines]

Just Breathe (Mark)

Hey guys!! Here is my second story!!! Enjoy!!

Word Count: 1347

Warnings: angst, cussing, cyber bullying, angst, self harm

Being friends with Got7 was not easy. It was like everywhere I go I got asked to tell Jaebum he is cute, or that Jinyoung needs to be more active on Instagram, or to tell them to make sure they eat. At first, I was okay with the fans wanting me to give a message. But soon they found my work and I couldn’t even go out to eat in peace. Don’t get me wrong, some fans are super sweet and are really kind. But then there are the fans that are jealous. 

These fans are jealous that I am friends with them, and some believe the rumors of me being with one of the boys. In all honesty, I may like one of the boys, *cough* Mark *cough*, a little more than the others, but I am definitely not dating any of them. However, these rumors have caused me to get hate on social media and they somehow got a hold of my phone number. 

At first, I ignored the hate and just blocked them, because it was little things. But little things turn into big things and they found my insecurities. It soon turned into comments saying, “What an ugly and worthless piece of shit”, or, “This slut needs to go with Jackson to the gym and work off all that fat.”

The one hit the closes to home was the one that said that the boys deserve better than a fat ass girl who isn’t even from this country. And that is the biggest reason why my depression came back. I stopped taking my antidepressant, and I was staying home in bed under the covers. I even canceled on the boys every time coming up with some lame excuse as to why I couldn’t come. I even canceled on Mark, who was also my best friend/crush. He understood me a little more than the boys because he came from America too. We told each other secrets, had inside jokes, and we had even met each other’s families. This grew our bond more and made our families become friends. I probably wouldn’t be who I was today without him.

But through the two years of knowing the boys, my crush became huge in the last year. It was one night when we were out in the country; we were just star gazing into the night. I looked over at Mark and I knew that I was in love with my best friend.

Anyway, back to the present. The words the fans said got worse and worse. I was more depressed and was starting to call into work more often. Soon the words started coming from my mouth. I was the one saying I was worthless, and ugly, and fat. Seventeen-year-old me was back with my haunting past. I was starting to hurt myself again and I was becoming worse.

One day after work I came home and did what had became an everyday ritual of putting myself down. Soon it became so much that I couldn’t breathe, I was shaky, and I couldn’t stop crying. I was crying so hard that I didn’t heard my front door open and shut. The next thing I knew, I felt arms wrap around me and pull my body into theirs. When I looked up, I saw Mark looking down at me with a knowing look in his eyes. he then said, “Calm down, Y/N. you’re okay. I’m here now. I won’t let you hurt anymore. Just breathe and follow my heartbeat.”

I soon was able to calm down and control my breath again. Still in Mark’s arms, I looked up at him with a smile on my face to show him I was better. “Thank you… what are you doing here?”

“You canceled one too many times on me and the boys for me to know that something was up. And when I got here, I definitely knew something was wrong when the living room was still a mess from our movie night a week ago.”

“I’m sorry… I tried to be strong, but I just can’t anymore. Your fans are right that you deserve someone better than me. You guys deserve a friend that is beautiful, skinny, and worth something.”

Mark’s face then became disappointed and I knew I was in deep shit. “That is bullshit Y/N! You are so beautiful, and smart, and worthy of being the boys’ and I’s best friend. And sure, you aren’t skinny like some people, but you are not fat. I cannot stand to watch you put yourself down because these so called ‘fans’ are jealous of not being around us 24/7.”

“I wish I could believe you Mark, but I can’t. I can’t see myself the way you guys see me be-“

The next thing I know my lips are on Mark’s. I’m frozen for a second before I close my eyes and start kissing back. I felt sparks throughout my body. I wish this moment never had to end, but it did. we broke apart and just sat there looking into each other’s eyes with so much love for each other. I was the first to speak when I gasped, “Wow…”

“That was amazing! Did you feel-“

“The sparks? Yea I did Mark. Listen I need to tell you something. I’ve been in love with you for a year now, but I didn’t think you would like me back. I realized now that I let myself get to me and that kiss has given me the courage to finally tell you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since you met my family. It was crazy that my family already loved you and it had only been five minutes since they first met you. And how you got along with my family? I knew you were the one, but I didn’t know what your thoughts were on dating an idol… especially with all this hate you are getting and what it caused.”

“But I felt alone with this problem because I didn’t want you to get mad at your fans and I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.”

“But it is a problem when I see the girl I love is hurting and hurting herself.”

“I know… but I’m willing to become a better person to myself. And I promise to never let it get this bad with out telling you. Hell, I will start telling you every little detail about my day if I must. I just want to be with you.”

Mark smiled down at me and started laughing, “I’m glad you promise that, but I don’t need to know every time you go to the bathroom. Just let me in. Break down those protective walls and let me protect you.”

“Okay.”

With that conversation done with, Mark picked me up bridal style and took me to my bed. As he laid me down, he kissed my forehead and started to go back to his house. I sat back up and yelled, “Wait!”

Mark turned back around to look at me with a questioning look, “What’s the matter?”

“Will you stay and spend the night? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, baby girl. I will stay with you.”

Mark then went to my dresser where he kept a drawer with his clothes for when we have sleep overs and began putting on his pajamas. I usually look away to give him some privacy, but to know that he is mine, I just couldn’t look away. Mark turned around after getting dressed and smiled at me while he got into bed. I then turned into him to cuddle. I put one leg in between his legs, I also put half of my body on top of his, and I nuzzled my face into his neck. His arms went around my body to hold me closer and we stayed silent as we tried to fall asleep. The last thing before sleep took over my full body was a quiet, “I love you, Y/N.”

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -9-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, The Reckoning

Word count: 5.5k

Shawn is not too happy, at first, when Emma insisted they keep this, whatever this is, quiet.

She’s smart enough to give her decree between plush kisses to the spot on his collarbone that makes him whimper like a 16-year-old girl and he kinda resents that, but she’s a woman on a mission so he has to respect it, too.

Technically, she reminds him, she’s still supposed to be with Kyle.

“Kyle?!” Shawn whines, chocolate eyes going wide with dismay as she calmly brings it back to his attention, “But… I mean, why does it have to be Kyle? Why can’t it be me?”

Emma’s heart squeezes hard at his innocent suggestion. She peels her eager, slightly swollen lips away from his shoulder and regards him affectionately.

“Because you’re not a bad boy,” she says, eyes full of gratitude. He swipes a thumb against her wet lower lip and pouts playfully.

“Is that a requirement for you?” he teases. His voice is a little less squeaky than a few seconds ago so she thinks she’s hopefully getting somewhere in calming him the fuck down.

They’re still tangled up on her bed. Clothes have remained firmly in place and they’re above the sheets, it’s all been even just barely PG-13 so far and Shawn hasn’t done this in a long time. He hasn’t kissed someone just to kiss them without pretty soon falling into bed to sprint toward an orgasm. Not in recent memory, at least. It should feel maybe a little juvenile, a little fraught with sexual tension, but it doesn’t. It’s nice. He spent so long wanting to be close to her that getting to lie here on her Ravenclaw duvet with her bare toes prodding at the seam of his jeans and their linked fingers twirling and unraveling and re-vining while they talk, it all feels absolutely enough.

He’s forgotten for a second that he asked her a question. When he looks up at her he sees her smiling like he’s been caught daydreaming. She kisses the tip of his nose and god, he can die happy right here.

“It’s just for a little while,” she whispers earnestly, smile faltering into a sincere near-grimace. She doesn’t want to fuck this up. She doesn’t want to make him feel unimportant when he’s the opposite. But things are tenuous right now while she clandestinely searches for a new regime.

After a moment, he nods. “I get it. It’s fine, really. We’re ok.”

She rewards him tenderly with a kiss halfway down his jaw. He tilts his head back to give her more access, a silent plea for her to explore as she might want to. She takes the opportunity, weaving pecks and licks and little nipping tugs around the thin, tanned flesh of his neck.

“Don’t leave a mark, ok?” he hums.

She pulls her lips away only to nod subserviently. “Ok,” she breathes, the vibrations singing through his nerve endings until he’s squirming. She notices and backs away, giggling nervously.

“Sorry,” she whispers. Her cheeks are gorgeously flushed and she’s nibbling on her lower lip. He doesn’t know if she’s apologizing for starting or for stopping but he figures it doesn’t matter. He gives her that perfect close-lipped smile she loves and plays with her fingers again.

“I don’t even want to ask but… what time is it?” he croaks without looking away from her dainty fingertips.

Emma reaches for her phone and scrolls past dozens of texts she doesn’t care to read. “4:45 almost. God, we’ve been kissing all day.”

“And talking,” he reminds her, laying a sweet, if slightly wet kiss across her forehead, “And singing,” another gentler kiss on her cheek, “And playing,” he glances at the guitar and pecks at the corner of her mouth.

“Mostly kissing,” she giggles, burying her face in his neck briefly, inhaling the faded scent of expensive cologne and boy next door, “I have to go pick up my sister. Lacrosse camp ends at 6 and I’m taking her to dinner.”

Shawn smiles at how excited Emma sounds. “That sounds great.”

They’re quiet for a few moments until he speaks again. “Are you… gonna tell her?”

“That Shawn Mendes has been kissing me in my bed all day? Not while I’m driving, her head will explode all over my fine blonde leather interior,” Emma jokes. Shawn barks a laugh.

“No, then?” He tries not to sound hurt. Emma tilts her gaze up to his again, that same knowing, appreciative smile at just the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t keep anything from Georgie. I might just wait until I’ve got her in public first so she can’t make a scene. Though knowing Georgie, that might not stop her.”

Shawn wants to ditch his dinner meeting. He’s going to have to put stuff in his hair and shake hands and schmooze. He’d much rather get in Emma’s passenger seat and get stuck in traffic and sing to the radio and sit with Emma and Georgie in a booth at Gordon Biersch or something eating garlic fries and tracing the lines on Emma’s palm under the table while he asks Georgie about lacrosse game rules. He almost suggests it. But Emma never gets time like this with her sister. He’s not about to hog it. Even if he wants to hog her.

They pry themselves off the bed and slowly, very slowly, too slowly because the Uber driver has called Shawn three times and has threatened to leave him there, make their way to the door to say goodbye.

With one final kiss that has him sucking her lower lip into his mouth and her gripping his shoulders for dear life as her knees wobble, she releases him. He skips out the door, pink cheeked and tripping around her cacti as he turns back to look at her.

“I’ll call you tonight!”

+

It’s not that she lied to Shawn, she just didn’t tell him everything.

Her explanation of her evening with Georgie made it sound like they’d be collapsing on Emma’s couch by 8:30 to watch To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before again and be in bed by 10. She didn’t feel the need to clarify that instead, she’d be packing into a Lyft heading into WeHo for a quiet drink with a big opportunity. She doesn’t want to tell him until it’s certain. She doesn’t want him getting his hopes up, or worse, feeling like has should step in and help her reorder her professional life. That isn’t what she wants. That’s not why she wants him.

That’s what she’s telling herself as she fiddles with the brooch on the breast pocket of her smartly tailored creamsicle orange blazer. She got ready for this meeting in only 45 minutes after dropping a dazed and elated Georgie back off at their dad’s house, assurance she can function without Mabel who, though likeable, is a henchwoman of Margaret.

“I’m gonna change everything, G,” Emma assured her sister, voice shaking almost imperceptibly, “I’m going to fix it. All of it.”

The words are vague and innately powerful. Emma’s not stupid. She knows Georgie knows all, sees all. She only barely described what went down at the video shoot, leaving out the grimier details of the bruises she woke up with that Shawn did his best to distract her from by leaving a couple of his own. But the look in Georgie’s perfectly clear green eyes reminded Emma what she’s known all along – Georgie knows everything.

Maybe this one meeting can’t fix all of it. She knows more about this business than people think she does and she knows there’s no magic spell to undo the years of careful planning and manipulation Margaret and her mother have woven to keep Emma wound up tight. She knows a new manager is only the start. But the start is finally starting and Emma is so ready.

Andrew made the first call on her behalf, a carefully-worded suggestion that while she’s in town, Angelique Carter should meet Emma Kingston.

She’s not what she seems, he promised, There’s something to this girl that you should be interested in.

Angelique likes Andrew a lot, she really does. He’s straight up, has a great reputation in the industry for doing his job well with dignity and respect for artists and for other managers. He’s well-liked and highly regarded. She knows she has to take him seriously when he makes any proffered suggestion to her, even if she has been in the business longer.

But Emma Kingston?

The paranoid part of her, the part that has kept her edge finely honed from years of being a woman of color in a white male-dominated music industry, has her hackles up. What is he trying to pull? What kind of mischief could be lying underneath this?

But she could find nothing. Nothing made sense here. What could Andrew possibly have to gain from foisting Emma Kingston onto Angelique’s plate?

It only meant one thing – he was right. Angelique needed to meet Emma Kingston, indeed.

Buckling under curiosity, Angelique sits, eyes and wits as sharp as her posture, in $600 jeans and a t-shirt she stole from an ex-boyfriend, in the corner of a bar she’s never heard of. It’s decorated in 30s Golden Age Hollywood-style and has the feel of a place that was outrageously popular five years ago and has faded into ubiquity. Angelique kind of loves it, so that’s one brownie point to Miss Kingston, who picked the locale.

And there she is. She gives the illusion that she’s tall with her killer cream-colored Louboutins and the carriage of a woman beyond Emma’s just-shy-of-19 years. She’s smiling genuinely in a way Angelique’s never seen Emma smile in the barrage of interviews she pored over in preparation for this introduction. Angelique, for once in her career, is thrown off.

“Angelique, it’s so great to meet you, thank you for taking the time for me,” Emma says in her signature quiet but firm tone, keeping her gaze level with Angelique’s as she stumbles to her feet to greet the teen queen. Angelique blinks, looking to recover.

“My pleasure, Emma, I was very… interested when Andrew suggested we sit down.”

Emma sits and immediately, without even the lift of an eyebrow or a glance around the room, draws the waiter over to take her order. Her very presence did the trick. Angelique is a little enchanted. Emma orders a club soda with lime. Another brownie point – Angelique hates alcohol at business meetings and resents how big a role it plays in the music industry. She herself is proudly drinking a Shirley Temple.

“Andrew’s been great to me. I’m not sure how much he did tell you, but I want you to know I specifically asked if he knew you because I’ve been looking to work with you for a few years.”

Emma is direct. Angelique’s beginning to lose track of the brownie points. She’s still trying to mentally reconcile what she has heard of Emma Kingston’s reputation (shallow, cold, detached from the inner workings of her own business) with the woman sitting across from her who hasn’t yet broken eye contact or raised her voice above a confident, soft murmur. But she manages to nod anyway.

“Have you?”

Emma’s jaw tightens up. Angelique can feel the story behind… whatever this is bubbling up in Emma’s million dollar throat. She squirms in her seat with anticipation. She realizes for a moment just how invested she suddenly is.

“I’m not sure how much of my career you’re familiar with but I’ve done quite a bit of research on you and I know you too like your research. So I’m guessing you know everything about me.”

Angelique cracks a crooked grin that sets Emma more at ease, as it was meant to. “Homework is important in this job. In this business.”

Emma nods eagerly. “It is. Then you know I’ve been managed by Margaret Henderson since I was little.”

Oh, Angelique knows. Googling Emma’s representation was the first thing she did when she set the meeting. Margaret Henderson has been the Queen Regent of teen queens since the mid 80s. She’s practically legendary. She has a few more skeletons in her closet than Andrew does, though. There are more whispers about her, more half-truths and killed stories. Angelique used to think anyone who’s been around long enough has those. But she’s trying to work on her cynicism.

“I’m looking to part ways with Margaret. I’m looking for someone who will collaborate with me, who understands that the end of my adolescence brings about the opportunity for a new direction, one that suits me more than my current image.”

Angelique is blinking again. This speech doesn’t even sound rehearsed. She knows the girl’s an actor, but either she’s a damn good one or she’s more eloquent than anyone gives her credit for. Angelique wouldn’t be surprised by either.

Emma leans in slightly as if to confide something. “I know you’ve never worked with a country artist before. Anyone would tell me if that’s my path of choice, given how much I’ve already established myself in the pop field, I should go with someone similarly ingrained in the country music world. But the thing is… I don’t want to. I want to trust someone.”

Angelique can feel the cogs turning in her head. She heard a rumor once a few months ago that Margaret and Island Records had buried Emma’s first record and recorded a different one. Perhaps there was a bit of truth to it.

“And you trust me?”

Emma sits back again, eyeing Angelique. “I do. That probably sounds stupid because I don’t know you. But I’ve been following your career and I like the way you do your job. You don’t… run your artists. You work with them. You trust them and they trust you. I’ve always wanted that. I’ve never had it with Margaret. It’s a huge risk, me telling you all this, me arranging this meeting while she’s still on my payroll and making every decision about my career without my consent. I hope that shows you how serious I am about this. I want us to do this together. We might fuck it up. I doubt it, because you’re brilliant and I want this so bad I don’t know what to do with myself. So… there. That’s my pitch.”

Angelique goes to speak when the waiter brings back Emma’s club soda. She smiles and nods a thank you.

“Usually people wait for their drinks to arrive before they go in on the damn thing,” Angelique chuckles appreciatively. She tucks a stray dread behind her ear.

She’s quiet, running through Emma’s every word, every incremental facial expression of the last few minutes in her mind. She’s searching for bullshit, searching for flakiness, something she can use as an excuse to get out of this.

This is the kind of opportunity that scares the shit out of every great artist manager there’s ever been. This is the fork in the road. This is where she chooses to continue representing acts that might become the next Rihanna, the next Childish Gambino, the next Halsey. Or she chooses to help be a part of something new, something no one can compare so directly to anyone else. This is where she decides to continue on her road, the road oft-traveled, the road littered with people making the same choices, opting for safety over greatness. 

Angelique smiles. She doesn’t mind the road less traveled. Her Range Rover has four-wheel drive.

+

There are no magic spells in the music industry, only mountains of paperwork.

It takes over a month to draw up and negotiate a contract for Angelique after she and Emma shook on their deal that night at the little West Hollywood bar. Emma’s lawyers are under strict instructions not to breathe a word of anything to Sandra or Margaret. Meanwhile, Angelique is tying up loose ends, making some quiet calls to feel out killing the “Fireheart” video and waiting in the wings for the Reckoning, as Georgie has taken to calling it.

Emma is having regular freak outs on the DL about firing her manager and finally alienating her mother. She knows her agent will back out the moment Margaret’s name is no longer attached to Emma’s, so that’s another thing for Angelique to handle. She’s being a sport about it, though. She consults Emma before she does almost anything. No task is too small. When she’s not straightening out the behind-the-scenes, she’s brushing up on her country music knowledge. Turns out she really loves Tammy and Patsy, too.

Angelique’s paperwork, along with Margaret’s generous severance package, padded heavily to attempt to sidestep any legal action she may threaten to bring, is expected to be ready right in time for Emma’s 19th birthday.

Which Shawn doesn’t know about until she mumbles something about Kyle flying in for a party while they’re in D.C. as he’s suckling at the inside of her left breast at 5:30am in a hotel room in Pittsburgh. He lifts his head and stares at her.

“Your birthday’s next week?” he pants.

She giggles at the ragged sound of his breath and the rosiness of his cheeks. She nods.

“You’re not the only Leo in this bed.”

He makes a face and huffs. “Well, when were you gonna tell me?”

“I just did, babe.”

He narrows his eyes. “You just told me your fake boyfriend is flying in for your small, intimate, paparazzi-friendly gathering, too. C’mon, it’s your birthday, Em, can’t you take a break from being Emma Kingston for one night? We don’t have to go out. We can stay in the hotel and—”

“I can’t make any waves right now, Shawn,” she reminds him gently, sheepishly. After “the handshake,” Emma proudly called Shawn to tell him the news. He was a little floored, because he didn’t know she was quite so close to replacing Margaret, but he put down another mental note to thank Andrew for doing right by his… well, not girlfriend.

They haven’t had that talk yet. It’s a little complicated, what with her fake boyfriend and their sneaking around behind everyone’s backs but Georgie’s. And Emma’s pretty sure Angelique knows, too, but she doesn’t have confirmation. She just has a feeling. Angelique’s a little like Georgie in that way. It bodes well.

Shawn is struggling with trying not to be aggravated by all this. The secret was so sexy at first – catching her by the hand to pull her into a dark corner for two minutes between their soundchecks, unable to share more than a casual glance for hours at a time, sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms at 2am just to spend a few hours together. Neither of them is sleeping worth a damn, but they’re both noticeably giddy.

But the novelty is starting to wear off. Shawn wants Emma. He wants her in the morning when they wake up and part ways to meet with their trainers. He wants to bring her tea and kiss her good morning in front of the whole crew when they arrive at a new venue. He wants to hold her hand as they walk around the venue like it’s their personal playground. He wants to take her out to explore new cities on their off days. He can’t do any of that while she’s still making headlines as one half of “Kyma.” Which, by the way, is a shitty ship name. It sounds like a 6th Kardashian sister. He hates it.

He’s been incredibly patient, he thinks. And she reminds him, too, how much she appreciates it, how she knows it’s not ideal, how it’s definitely not forever. Even Georgie texts him sometimes when she’s feeling nosy to remind him that “the Reckoning is coming.” He always rolls his eyes and smiles at that.

What he really doesn’t like is how Emma and Kyle bring out a side of him he doesn’t recognize. This side of him feels devolved, like a Neanderthal. He sees Kyle’s arm around Emma’s waist and wants to club him over the head. He doesn’t, of course, he plasters on his best “I’m a Canadian good boy” smile and waits for Emma to show up in his room at some ungodly hour and shower him with kisses. She always makes it pretty easy to forget for a little while. But the little freckled bastard always comes back. He’s ready for him to get taken out with the rest of the trash. The Reckoning is coming.

Shawn swallows his pride again and nods at her. “Ok. So he’s flying in for the party. Cool.”

Emma casts a sympathetic glance before she seems to come up with something to placate him. “I was thinking, though, you and I might have our own party the next night? Maybe we could do something a little more special than 15 of my closest non-friends at some trendy restaurant.”

He’s not getting the hint, instead nodding and picking at a piece of blanket lint in her hair. She trails her fingers down his bare chest for his attention. His eyes lift to hers. She raises her eyebrows.

Delighted recognition paints his face and almost makes her giggle.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah, that… I mean, yeah, if you want to. If you’re sure you’re ready. I don’t, I mean, I want to make sure… you know…”

She frowns. “Shawn, I’m not a virgin.”

Shawn’s face goes blank. “Oh. I mean, I wasn’t totally sure…”

They’ve been taking it slow. They haven’t had a formal discussion about it but neither of them wanted to rush it, especially given their opportunity for only short, sweet rendezvous right now while their relationship remains below board. Shawn doesn’t mind, he’ll take what he can get. And he’s never been one to push anyway.

That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it. Because god, has he thought about it. Emma Jean Kingston is the best looking woman he’s ever touched and his body never lets him forget it. She sets him on fire and he’s just dancing around in the flames. He’d happily go steadily insane for her if she insisted on keeping on like this. But if she’s suggesting they round the bases as described by the timeless baseball metaphor, he’s definitely down with that too.

She snorts at the look on his face. “Dude, I brought home that French guy from Sound Control, remember?”

He sighs. “Vividly, thanks. I just didn’t know. Could’ve been part of the Emma act.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, it sort of was, I guess, but that particular scene of the Emma act did not have a happy ending.”

Shawn chuckles. “Oh no?” He confidently begins tonguing at the freckle on her breast, which always makes her shiver for him.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m the queen of hopeless one-night stands. I have a magnet for guys that have… no idea what they’re doing.”

Shawn lifts his head and stares at her questioningly. Her own words dawn on her and she grabs his shoulders.

“Not you! No, you’re… well, from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely excellent. You’re the exception to the rule. For sure.”

Shawn looks smug and plants a wet kiss on the base of her throat. “You’re gonna have a very happy birthday, Emma. A very, very, very happy birthday.”

+

The Reckoning is coming, the Reckoning is coming.

It’s a good mantra for the times when the alarm goes off at 4:30am for Pilaticardio and Margaret’s walking into her bedroom unannounced and squawking at her about being late when she’s not and not working hard enough when she is.

As planned, the papers are messengered to Emma on her birthday. She’s in bed texting Shawn when Mabel announces there’s a messenger here for her. She bounds out of bed and almost snatches up the folder from the prying eyes of Sandra and Margaret, whose only birthday present to Emma was to let her skip Pilaticardio for a day.

She marches back to her back lounge bedroom on the bus and rips at the packaging. Inside are just loose-leaf pages full of legal jargon but they’re going to change Emma’s whole life and it’s the best birthday present ever.

She grouptexts Shawn and Georgie: The Reckoning is here

They respond with effusive excitement and lots of emojis. She has a stupid smile on her face for the rest of the day until Kyle arrives in typical fashion with a band of merry miscreants he thought would be “the more the merrier” for her quiet, intimate birthday dinner. He plants his hands on her ass and sticks his tongue in her mouth right away upon his arrival outside the hotel where fans are waiting with phones. She knows it’s mostly for the cameras but also a little for feeling out whether she might fuck him tonight. She’s glad Shawn’s not watching.

Emma’s dinner feels a little bit like the Last Supper to both Shawn and Emma who are stealing glances at each other from across the table over Asian fusion and cocktails even for the decidedly underage. He’s too far away to touch, which means he’s also too far away to see Kyle ghosting his fingertips along Emma’s bare thigh. She crosses her legs away from him and swallows more of the fruity rum drink, looking back to Shawn. He smiles at her softly. Her heart soars.

They get papped according to plan outside the restaurant and head back to the hotel due to an early bus call the next day. While waiting for the caravan of hired cars to arrive, Shawn casually slides up next to Emma while Kyle is occupied yammering on to his friend about some club in Mallorca.

“Do you want me to come with you to talk to Margaret?” he hums, almost under his breath. She smiles softly and angles toward him, brushing her fingers over his, hoping no one’s watching. His hand twitches in response.

“No thank you. Gotta stand on my own on this one.”

She looks up at him meaningfully. He holds her gaze proudly until the cars arrive and they’re separated.

Shawn doesn’t sleep that night, not a wink. The Reckoning is here.

+

Sandra gets on a red eye back to California for a “charity” (i.e. networking) event in LA. Emma only has to slay one dragon at a time. After a pep talk from Angelique and another emoji-filled text from Georgie, she’s standing outside Margaret’s hotel room door at almost 1am with a manila folder full of endings.

And she finds she can’t knock.

She should’ve changed. She feels like an idiot with her high, tight ponytail and her mini dress and absurd high heels firing a woman who’s been running her life since she was a toddler in a tiara.

What’s the appropriate thing to wear when firing your second mother? Not that she was a very good one, but still.

Margaret has been there for every single one of Emma’s major life events. She remembers her kindergarten graduation. Margaret bought her the Bratz doll she had been begging for. She remembers when she was hospitalized for dehydration and exhaustion when she was shooting the second season of Fake It. Margaret never left her bed side even when Sandra did. When Georgie broke her wrist playing in the game against Warburton Prep last year, Margaret shut down her photo shoot and drove Emma to be with her at the hospital.

Emma doesn’t hate Margaret. She kind of wants to. It would make this easier. In fact she thinks, at this point in their journey, Margaret really thinks she’s doing what’s best for Emma by forging her path without consulting her and refusing her attempts at owning her creativity in favor of a boxed, processed version she thinks will make her more successful.

Margaret doesn’t hate Emma. Emma is the closest thing Margaret has to a child of her own. She’s always just wanted what’s best for Emma, right? That’s what Sandra has always said. That’s what they all want. They want Emma to succeed.

Emma slumps against the wall, closing her eyes against Emma Kingston’s voice inside her head. She’s so tired of it. There’s a part of her that worries that this duality she’s lived with for so long, the duality Margaret helped create, the duality Emma let them split into her, might not just evaporate when Margaret’s influence does.

What if Emma Kingston never really leaves? What if this is all a waste because Emma Kingston was who she was always supposed to be? What if Margaret was right?

Even holding herself up on the wall becomes too much. She sinks to sit on the heavily patterned hotel hallway carpet, blinking away tears of frustration and confusion.

What is she doing? Why is she doing this?

Her stomach roils. Her brain riots. Her pulse threads thin and erratic.

She buries her face in her hands.

She’s desperate for divisiveness, for one thing, one memory to rip her into certainty from wherever she is now.

She holds her breath and waits until it comes.

It’s an old memory, one long filtered by time and numbness and fear. It’s bitter in her mouth and hurts so bad her eyebrows pinch together and she holds an arm over her stomach like she’s afraid it will split her apart from the inside.

Emma is 8. She booked a guest spot, a one-liner on an episode of “Project Pink,” an old Disney Channel show. This is the big one, everyone tells her. If you do this well, you’ll be a Disney star. You’ll get one of those commercials where you trace the Mickey head with a glow stick.

“I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

She’s practiced it a thousand times and then a thousand more. She wants it so badly.

She’s on set for two days. Her one liner is spoken with another little girl on set. Her name is Ally. She’s loud and funny and speaks Spanish really good so Emma likes her. She doesn’t get to meet a lot of kids her age. She wonders if maybe Ally could have a sleepover this weekend? Ally likes the idea. She’s been to tons of sleepovers. Emma’s nervous about staying the night without her mom and dad so Ally says she can come to Emma’s place.

Emma asks Margaret because she can’t find Sandra and Margaret is just as much her mom as Sandra is at this age. Margaret looks down at Emma with a look of distaste.

“That’s not what we’re here to do, Emma. This isn’t a game. This is your job. You need to tell her no. No sleepover.”

Emma is quiet. She knows better than to try to ask her mom or dad. They’d just check with Margaret and it would make Margaret mad to know she didn’t like the answer she got so she asked someone else. Emma tells Ally she can’t come over. Ally doesn’t understand. She gets upset. She calls Emma stupid.

Emma believes her. She stops asking for sleepovers. She stops asking for anything. She just obeys.

She heads back to her trailer and picks up a pencil her tutor left. She swings it in the air in a perfect Mickey head shape.

‘I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

19-year-old Emma’s eyes open. She stares at the hotel room door. She blinks, resigned. Her heart hurts. Her limbs are heavy. But she lifts herself to standing and knocks.

Margaret answers, bleary-eyed in a big t-shirt and sweatpants. She’s still awake doing her job, supporting Emma’s career. Supporting the career Emma had no say in.

“Emma?”

Emma lifts her chin and hands her the envelope. “It’s over, Margaret. You need to go home.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy @toumendes @nosafetynetunderneath

[ikesenhell]

Inked

This is the Professional Integrity series, part three. For all other parts and additional IkeSen works by me, see here.

Mitsuhide started his day the usual way: cleaning out the abusive comments on her social media. 

she just ditched the house I’m telling you She didn’t even let the fans in the funeral He would have wanted us to be there She hasn’t even released a statement I hear she’s partying it up in china and spending all his money

Click, click, click. They all disappeared. 

“How are you this morning?” Shingen asked with a smile, putting a plate of eggs in front of her. She half-laughed and shook her head. 

“I think I went one drink too hard.”

“Lightweights,” Kenshin huffed. “All of you.”

“Look,” Yuki argued, “We can’t all drink like alcoholics.”

“I don’t drink like an alcoholic.”

Sasuke lifted a piece of toast to his mouth, eating gingerly. “Everyone is being too loud.”

The Princess tittered and pet her friend’s head. “I’m sorry. Let’s be quieter. Thanks for the breakfast, Shingen.”

“No problem. Least I can do for an angel like you.”

“Oh, God.” She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

It looked like Kenshin was prepping a sharp-tongued barb to fling at his friend, but the Princess took his hand and he fell silent. “Thank you, guys. I’m so glad I got to see you all.”

“We’re glad we got to see you, too,” Shingen answered. 

“Yeah, um,” Yuki stumbled through his words before pointing at his dog, “Kuro liked having people over.”

“Oh, sure. ‘Kuro’ did.” Shingen smiled a smug little smile. 

Kenshin finally freed his hand from hers and set it on her shoulder. “Let us know if you’ll be coming back through.”

“I just might.”

They dropped Sasuke off at the Phoenix Airport. He and she hugged, long and hard at the security checkpoint until she cried, and then he had to catch his flight. Mitsuhide put his own, dark sunglasses on her to hide her tears and guided her gently back to the RV.

“Alright.” She settled into the passenger side, looking small and fragile, eyes locked forward and still wearing his circular sunglasses. “Where to next?”

“I don’t know.” He adjusted the seat, shoving it way further back than it had been. “Has anything ‘told’ you yet?”

A moment of pensive silence. She glanced up at him. “Anyone you wanna see?”

“Me?” He took a moment to check his surprise. “Friends of mine, you mean?”

“Yeah? Why not.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “My friends are a handful. Plus, they live in New York.”

“That’s fine. That works for me. I can work with ‘handful’.”

He snickered and delved into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“If they’re anything like you, I’m sure they’ll be great.”

The smile slipped off his lips for one long moment, trying to register what she was saying. At last, he decided not to think too deeply into it and pressed the dial button, gunning the RV powerfully onto the highway.

Hideyoshi picked up on the second ring. “Speak of the Devil.”

“It’s Mitsuhide, not Nobu,” he joked thinly. “What are your plans for this week, or anyone else’s?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh. Why?” There was a trace of suspicion in the man’s voice, and Mitsuhide had to resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t tell me you did something--”

“No, no, I did nothing,” he chuckled. “You remember how I told you I was bodyguarding Mrs. Matthews?”

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Well, she got a feeling for a road trip, and it’s my turn to pick where to go. How are you and the rest feeling having me show up at your houses and drink your liquor?”

“Just like old times, huh?” Hideyoshi laughed. “Okay, um, I’ll text them and see what’s up, but we should all be here this week, and you know that Masa is always game for something.”

“Let me know. I’ve got to get back to driving.”

“You’re driving? Hell, Mitsuhide, don’t drive and talk on the phone--!”

Mitsuhide hung up before the lecture could commence, grinning. “They’re looking forward to it.”

His bed was actually pretty comfortable for what it was. Pull-out couches generally weren’t the most amenable situation, but this was clearly an exception. Wrapped in a comforter, he lay with his feet propped comfortably against the driver’s seat, looking up through the skylight at the picture-perfect midwest stars. 

In the bed above the driver cab, he heard a faint, pained shuffle. 

“No.” She whimpered, then panted. 

“Princess?” Mitsuhide was on his feet in an instant. 

“Stop, stop, stop...” Oh, she was asleep. The sleepy distress was clear to him now. “Stop it.”

“Princess,” he repeated, softer, and reached into the bed, closing his hand around her ankle. She woke with a start. 

“Holy--”

“It’s just me,” he soothed, not releasing her foot. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” She shifted, but didn’t move her leg away from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I thought something was really wrong, and it would have been terribly awkward to figure out how I failed to protect you with about a foot of space between us.”

A titter. He finally released her ankle, trailing his fingertips along her foot until there was no skin left. “Anything I can get for you?”

“No, Mitsuhide,” she answered him softly, his name like a song, “thank you.”

“Any time.” 

She didn’t care much for food either and liked listening to The Eagles, Kendrick Lamar, and jazz. If she had to pick between four elements, she went for air every time, and he could see that in her--she always had the window cracked, the breeze rushing through her hair and sending it in rivers toward the back of the RV. Her favorite animals were snakes and bunnies.

“Yeah?” He grinned at her. “I’ve got a tattoo of a snake.”

“Do you really?” She glanced at him, up and down, returning her gaze to the road. “Where?”

He rolled his sleeve past the bend of his elbow, revealing the head of a serpent lying there on his bicep. “It goes around the arm, over my shoulders, and back down the other.”

“That is so cool,” she gasped. “I love it. It’s so very ‘you’.”

“Not the first person who’s said that.”

“I think I might get a tattoo some day,” she mused aloud. “I’ve bantered it back and forth in my head, but I just haven’t yet. Did it hurt?”

“Mostly over the parts of my spine, but otherwise, tolerably. I found it a good experience at the least.”

She smiled, and all those terrible comments he spent so much time scrubbing from her profiles swung like a black mark back into his mind. For the first time, he was angry. How could anyone try and say those things about her--this lovely, sincere, fun, sad woman? 

“You okay?” She said suddenly, flitting her eyes at him. “You look upset.”

“Me?” He forced a grin onto his lips. “When I’m around you? Never.”

They rolled into New York City later that day. 

“Look who is fucking here!” Masamune thrust open the door with a bang, garnering a shouted hey! from Hideyoshi, and wrapped his arms around both Mitsuhide and the Princess. “Mitsu-fucking-Hide!”

“Hi there!” The Princess laughed, patting his back. “Who are you?”

“The one, the only, Masamune Date.” He shot her a grin. “And you’re Mrs. Matthews?”

“Most people just call me ‘Princess’. Besides, it’s weird to call myself ‘Mrs.’.”

“She’s a widow,” Mitsuhide interjected, slithering inside. 

“Oh. Shit.” Masamune stopped smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s fine. Cancer. Was sort of expected.”

“Come on in!” Hideyoshi emerged in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping his forehead. “Hi! I’m Hideyoshi. Do you like Pizza?”

“Love it.”

“Great, cause Masamune prepped enough of them for an army.”

“Masamune eats like an army,” a blonde, fluffy-haired man groused at the kitchen bar. “He probably needs half of them for himself.”

“That’s Ieyasu,” Hideyoshi gestured. “Mitsunari is on the couch, probably reading still. He won’t hear you come in.”

“I’ll get him.” Masamune jogged into the living room. 

“And I’m Nobunaga.” A final, dark-haired man with carnelian eyes appeared in the hallway, a smooth smirk gracing his mouth. “Mitsuhide. How good of you to come and see me again.”

“I was practically jumping at the chance,” Mitsuhide chuckled. 

Masamune appeared at Nobunaga’s arm, wrapping his around the man’s shoulders, a pair of silvery glasses perched on his nose. The Princess laughed. “He’ll be showing up soon.”

“Have you seen my glasses?” A man with a sweet, confused expression emerged at last behind them, clogging the crowded hallway. “Oh! Who are you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s the Princess, Mitsun.” Masamune tucked the glasses on top of the man’s head. “And you gotta be social.”

“Of course.” He smiled, bright as the sun, and Mitsuhide was almost envious of his charm and kindness. “It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“So what’s the plan tonight?” Hideyoshi asked, clapping his hands together. “Get out of my hallway, all you, get in that living room. You’re being a safety hazard.”

“Yes, mom,” Masamune muttered with a grin. 

“I was thinking,” Mitsuhide stepped into the familiar living room after them, “after dinner we might take her to some of the usual haunts, do a little drinking.”

“Could--” The Princess spoke up for a moment, then faltered. “Maybe, um, is there a place to get a tattoo around here?”

“Tattoos?” Masamune perked visibly. 

“Goddamnit,” Ieyasu groaned from the counter. “You don’t need another.”

“Masamune’s tattoos are great,” Mitsunari chirruped cheerily. “I think you’d look great with some, too, Ieyasu!” 

“Don’t compliment me like that, that’s weird.”

“Stop arguing, you two,” Hideyoshi wielded the pizza-cutter at them both. “I mean, we could do that.”

“I’m intrigued,” Nobunaga started, eyeing her with a smile. “What do you plan on getting?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she smiled. “It’s great to meet you all, by the way.”

Mitsuhide didn’t smoke much, but Masamune and Nobunaga did, and whenever he was around them, he always wound up with one in his hand. They bounced between bars after dinner, getting drinks and dancing, riding the subway and causing mayhem. 

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked her, loitering outside the tattoo parlor. Smoke curled around his fingertips. 

“Yeah, I think so.” She smiled nervously at him all the same. “Can I have a drag on that?”

“Sure.” He handed it to her, watching the way the glow of embers glowed against her cheeks, how it flickered orange through her eyelashes and the smoke graced the curve of those lips. A cough; he snickered at her and tapped her mouth. “You don’t have much practice smoking.”

“That’s good,” Hideyoshi frowned at him, “Cause they’re bad for you.”

“Ready?” Masamune tucked his cigarette between his teeth and shot her a wink. “My guy is here. He’ll set you up good with something.”

“I’m ready.” But she latched onto Mitsuhide’s wrist, turning her face towards his, and asked--so, so, so prettily and sweetly--”Will you hold my hand or something if it hurts?”

“Sure.” He agreed. “I’d be glad to.” 

“Okay. Don’t take too long with that cigarette!” And she disappeared into the shop. 

Four sets of eyes turned onto Mitsuhide. 

“Well, well, well.” Nobunaga was smirking. 

“Ahhhhhh.” Hideyoshi had that infuriating, all-knowing grin on his lips. 

“Hmm.” Ieyasu eyed him hard. 

“What?” Mitsunari stared between all of them, eyes wide. “What? What?”

“You’re into her.” Masamune’s grin was so wide it threatened to split his head in half. 

“You’re all daft.” Mitsuhide snickered, taking a harder drag on his cigarette than he meant to and winding up choking himself. They erupted into laughter around him. 

“Lost your cool, there? I’m disappointed.” Nobunaga teased. 

“Hardly.” He thumped his chest to clear it. 

“She’s pretty cute.” Masamune leaned in. “When are you gonna jump on that? If you don’t, I might.”

“For god’s sake, Masa, she’s widowed. Recently. I’m fairly certain she needs a breather.”

“That’d be your loss.” Masamune grinned. “Come on, let’s go get her tattoo done.”

She got it on her back, right on the nape of her neck: a sun, the moon resting inside it, a series of chandelier-styled chains hanging from the points. 

“It’s beautiful!” Mitsunari praised easily, turning his head this way and that to look at it. “Wow! How did you think of that?”

“It’s based on a poem I like,” she told him, shyly. 

“Which one?” Hideyoshi asked. 

“Oh, I probably paraphrased it. But it’s: For the Sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.” 

“Woah.” Masamune nodded. “That’s nice. Told you he was the guy to take you to. It looks cool.”

Mitsuhide realized with a start that she was still holding tight to his hand, as tight as she had been the whole time, as tightly as if he were the only lifeline between her and the rest of the world. He didn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded hard. “Just need some air.”

“Well, come on.” He helped her to her feet, steering her past the guys and ignoring Masamune’s muttered git some. “Let’s get you some.”

They stepped out onto the New York City street, the rumble of the subway overhead echoing through the dark street. She shut her eyes hard, her fingers still locked with his. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, tracing a thin finger on her cheek.

First she nodded, but just as quickly, she shook her head hard, tears spilling to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.” Mitsuhide wrapped his arms around her shoulders, cupping the back of her head and resting his chin in her soft hair. “Shh. Why are you crying?”

“It--” Choked sobs escaped her. “It felt on my skin the way it feels inside my chest.”

Oh. And what did he say to that? He smoothed long, fine lines along her cheeks, neck, shoulders, feeling her rock back and forth in her arms. And here she felt like something fragile, something delicate and honorable, something worth fighting and dying for--a ray of something he’d never had in his life. The emotional honesty and vulnerability struck him in the center of a dark, sunken part of his chest, like a diver shining a light into the center of a shipwreck long lost. 

“Was that bad?” He asked softly.

“No.” She shook her head against his chest. “No. It felt really validating.”

“Good.” Mitsuhide wrapped her tighter against him and shut his eyes. He hadn’t wanted another tattoo, or so he thought, but now--now, if he could turn the way she made him feel into a picture and burn it into his heart, he would. “God knows you deserve it.”

[mistyheartrbs]

so

i may have written a dottie underwood redemption arc over the course of several days on twitter. collected here for your viewing pleasure.

it's several years after the events of s2, with the cold war underway and s.h.i.e.l.d on its way to being founded. peggy lives comfortably in la with sousa, not quite happy but focused on her work more than anything else. that is until she gets a message about the mysterious disappearance of famed broadway starlet angela martinelli. instantly, peggy is on her way to new york. she'd lost contact with angie over the years, and she'd always thought it'd be easiest to leave her be. keep her out of all this spy business. after all, she was so wonderful. peggy couldn't bear to think of her getting hurt because of her. but angela (the name feels so bizarrely formal on her tongue) is gone, and some no-good organization knows just how to get to peggy. joining up with jarvis and howard (and anna because she was one of the only good things about s2) peggy tries to take them downbut these people, they're smarter than most of the ones she's fought, smarter than leviathan. 

it keeps on being dead end after dead end until peggy heads back to her hotel and who stands under the streetlight but miss dorothy underwood.

"miss me, peggy?" she asks, her voice sweet and saccharine and venomous, her lips blood-red. peggy holds her at gunpoint, demands that she tell her where the bloody hell angie is or else. "i could help you," dottie sighs, slipping out from under the streetlight and up the stairs to the entrance. "for a price." 

"i trusted you once," peggy growls, but her hand is trembling. "why would i do it again?"

"because you're like me." dottie blinks sweetly at her and heads inside, swinging peggy's room key around her pinkie finger. peggy follows her, seething. it's the whole "we're not so different, you and i" schtick that's in every superhero movie. "i knew angie pretty well when we all lived in the griffith together, you know," dottie continues, opening the door and starting to rummage through peggy's things. "there're things a girl will tell you after a few bottles of schnapps that'd surprise anyone."

"quit it," peggy hisses, her voice low and cold. dottie shrugs. 

"it was nice having a kindred spirit. even if i was just there to con you, knowing a gal wasn't alone in this world made me feel a little better." she leans in closer. "i guess there were three of us." 

"do you know where angie is or not?" peggy could call in the ssr (though that name's fading out, it's s.h.i.e.l.d now and everyone knows it), she could get dottie arrested in half a minute.but she doesn't, for whatever reason. 

"well, i used to." dottie sits down on the bed, crosses her legs, starts to pick idly at her nails. peggy notices the marks on her wrists from the handcuffs.

"she was a smart girl, but she never caught onto my . . . wicked past. i hopped a plane and we stayed friends long after you left her in l.a. for mr. sweatervest."

"you-"

"someone had to keep her company in that big old house. i've never been evil, peggy." dottie takes off her coat and peggy flinches at her name coming from this woman's voice. "all i want is to be happy, really. isn't that what we all want?"

"and some of us want to commit multiple homicides and rob banks," peggy dryly retorts. dottie laughs too high-pitched and too long for it to be her real laugh. "oh, peg, you're a riot. you've got to make a living somehow."

"what happened to her?" peggy presses on. dottie shrugs again. there are lines on her face, lines that weren't there seven years ago. she looks tired, an old woman in a young one's body. 

"you have to make a living somehow," dottie repeats. "so what if it's with some creeps looking to steal sensitive data from the us government and dismantle your little pet project?" dottie runs her fingers along the bedsheets, catching her nails in the threading. "doesn't affect me."

"angela martinelli," peggy snarls, two seconds from punching that smug look off dottie's face. 

"she called you english, didn't she?" dottie looks right up at her, sees right through. "did you have a nickname for her?"

"dottie, i swear-" 

"they wanted dirt on peggy carter. i gave them dirt on peggy carter." 

"you jeopardized my- an innocent civilian for the sake of what? some petty revenge scheme?"

"for a hefty sum." dottie flops down on the bed, puts a hand to her forehead like a movie star. peggy sees eileen, lifeless in her own bed, and she has to shake her head to clear the image. "and some personal satisfaction, too."

"get out." peggy hopes her voice is firm. it probably isn't. "get out of my house." 

"this isn't your house, though." dottie stands up anyway. "love you, peg!" she trots away and blows peggy a kiss.

some bi spy shenanigans, more cryptic messages from the unnamed evil organization, peggy coming to terms with her feelings for angie being more than platonic. dottie left her phone number and address in the hotel. but it's a while before peggy gets desperate enough to contact her. 

but she does get desperate enough, eventually, because she keeps dreaming of angie and the thought of finding her dead hurts too much. peggy meets dottie in an alleyway late at night, jarvis and howard and anna standing protectively behind her in case anything happens.

(they're mostly there for the moral support, of course. peggy can handle herself)

"where do we start?" dottie asks, pleased as anything. peggy hates this. jarvis hates it even more, because none of this was on the bill when he signed up to be howard's butler, none of it, and he'd much prefer to live peacefully, but these things just keep happening.

more spy shenanigans. peggy and dottie are crawling through a tunnel when peggy decides to ask the question that's been gnawing at her mind the whole time. "why are you helping me?"

"because, peggy . . ." dottie trails off, shrugs, doesn't seem like she wants to talk about it. peggy doesn't try again, but dottie speaks up a few minutes later. "all i want, really, is my own life. the means to which i get there don't matter much."

peggy eyes her critically. "so what if i made some deals with some not-so-nice people? i'm making up for it now, aren't i? besides, i saw the way you looked at angie. it's the same way i would've looked at you if we'd been on the same side."

"let's just find angie," peggy mutters. "then we can talk about setting you up with a free life."

not that she really plans on letting someone like dottie go unchecked, but the thought of sending her to her death unleashes an unpleasant twinge in her gut. there's some kind of close call with the villains, who say they want dottie to be higher in their ranks. dottie agrees to their terms, and peggy feels like she's been played, not to mention the fact that they're no closer to angie than before, and the deadline for the ransom grows ever closer. jarvis tells peggy that of course someone like her would do that.

but all peggy can see is angie, angie, angie, wonderful and loving and in so much danger, and she thinks back to dottie in the hotel room. thinks back to the kiss in the griffith - why did dottie kiss her, why didn't she just stab her - and to steve.

and she tells herself it's just naive hope but she senses that dottie has more planned. she has to. but she carries on anyway, still intent on taking down the villains and securing s.h.i.e.l.d's (and angie's) safety. more spy shenanigans!

they find angie. peggy is overwhelmed to say the least. angie looks sickly, tired, having been kept prisoner for weeks or even months, but peggy has never been more in love with her.

"took you long enough, english," angie jokes, eyes lighting up in that way they always did. peggy has to stop herself from crying. she has a mission, after all. she has to get angie out safe.

but it's too late - the villains are upon them before she can escape. dottie stands at the forefront, lips red and curled in a sneer. peggy seethes, knowing now what they'd done to angie. but then one of the villains raises his gun and points it at angie. and dottie lunges for it, jumps in front of her, takes a nasty blow to her arm and diverts the villains for long enough to grab peggy with her one good arm and run off, leaving angie behind. but they won't hurt her. not when she can be used as leverage. dottie and peggy hole up somewhere secure while peggy tries to stitch up dottie's wounds. 

"i'll never play piano again," dottie sighs, fake-wistful.

"why did you do it?" peggy asks, voice quiet enough that she half-hopes dottie won't hear. dottie raises her eyebrows, amused. 

"i had a change of heart. is that so hard to believe?" 

"yes."

"well, i wasn't planning on sticking with those guys forever, and when i saw you looking at angie like that . . ." she shrugs, then winces. red room training never made her invincible. "i'm not heartless."

"you're like me," peggy says, reflecting dottie's own words back at her. she knows it to be true, in more ways than one. 

"do you think we would've worked out, in another time?" dottie lies down - it's a ratty motel bed, far beneath her typical fare. she rolls the question around her tongue, puzzles through it, looks at peggy expectantly until she cautiously lies down beside her. 

"no," peggy finally says. there's less conviction in her voice than usual.

"really? now there's a surprise." dottie looks up at the rickety ceiling fan. both of them know that if it came down to a fight, all it'd take was a few well-placed whacks and it'd come crashing to the floor, right on top of the attacker. "i think we're evenly matched, and isn't that what everyone wants out of a relationship?"

"i think you're a russian spy who sold me out the second you could and you're only now learning the concept of empathy."

"eh. let bygones be bygones, peg."

peggy can't deny she feels a little guilty for saying what she just did - dottie took a bullet for her, for angie, guaranteeing she wouldn't be welcomed back by those people, but two hours and some amateur doctoring skills did not a friend make. and dottie was still a lethal killing weapon who could make a knife out of a toothbrush if she so desired. 

and yet, peggy sleeps beside her that night, in the ratty motel bed, and she feels safer than she has in a long time.

MORE SPY SHENANIGANS! blame my romance-obsessed ass for not being able to write action sequences. anyway the villains move angie from the original hiding place obviously and there's a big standoff. howard and jarvis are outside. peggy and dottie are inside, facing off against the villains, who have angie in their clutches. 

"why would you do it, underwood?" their leader asks, stepping closer to dottie.

"i don't need to tell you that," dottie retorts, and stamps on his foot. 

"do you have the information we requested?" the leader asks, turning his attention to peggy. she gives him a folder, which he flicks through, intrigued. before dropping it to the floor. "there's nothing in here!" he snaps. "this is all garbage! junk!" peggy stiffens. one of the guys pushes his weapon closer to angie. 

"yeah, well, you'd better take what you can get," angie says. the leader looks at her, incredulous.

"what?" 

"i mean, s.h.i.e.l.d's got all their armed helicopters and tanks aimed right at ya, don't they, english?" angie winks, and it's all peggy can do not to break out into a big grin right there.

"o-of course." peggy is not a stellar actress, but she's good enough. "they'll blow this place to smithereens if you lay a hand on her." 

"with their best agent inside?" 

"without a doubt."

it's enough of a distraction for dottie to snatch the gun out of the guy's hand and train it on him, and a big fight ensues. dottie kicks their asses. peggy un-handcuffs angie. once angie's free peggy joins the fight, and eventually they've got all of the villains tied up and/or handcuffed. dottie steps on the leader. 

"you want him, peg?" she asks. peggy shakes her head. 

"we don't kill people, dottie."

"you're no fun," dottie scoffs, but there's a hint of a smile on her face. the villains are arrested and taken away. angie takes peggy's hands into her own and smiles. 

"you're a spy, then?" she says.

and then peggy kisses her. it's a big swooping gesture, the stuff of vintage romance movies, and angie tastes like violets and the musty air of the fortress, but peggy doesn't care. she's incredible.

***

it's several days later, and the three of them are staying in a secure facility to make sure none of the villains' lackeys track them down. things are very silent for the most part, though angie and peggy more than make up for lost time.

but things have still been left unspoken. 

"you're going to send me off to jail, aren't you?" dottie says. 

"we won't be able to be together, will we?" angie says at the same time. the gears start whirring in peggy's brain.

"actually," she says, "i think s.h.i.e.l.d. could more than use some new agents."

so dottie and angie both join s.h.i.e.l.d., and with dottie's knowledge of russian spy circles and angie's acting abilities combined with peggy's general badassery, they make a force to be reckoned with.

also, they all live together and angie and peggy are very deeply in love and dottie gets a gf eventually and sousa flies out sometimes to keep up appearances but for the most part it's just the three of them, kicking ass and taking names

agent martinelli and agent underwood never become as well-known as director carter, but they sure are amazing. and that's my dottie redemption arc.

[historybee-keeper]

reckless // anthony ramos x reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, drugs, mention of drugs, drinking, cussing, i think that’s it. 

word count: 3,178

a/n: I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN SO LONG. this is my first smut so it might be a it rocky but i’ve been editing and improving it a lot (that probably why i this has taken so long to come out) so, but i’m actually kinda proud. i want to make a second part and i have the it all planned out but i don’t know still. anyways, enjoy!  

You had been dreaming. 

You were dreaming of pursuing so many things in life: travel the world, capture each moment with your old antique camera, paint to your heart’s content, go to Julliard, and be featured on Broadway, finding love to live out the rest of your days with.

You were so intrigued by the world, it’s beauty specifically. You often spent days painting the outside world and the people that inhabited it. Or you would go out to parks and take pictures of the birds that didn’t fly away, but tilted their head when they saw your inch closer to them. 

You were set on making it to Julliard college, and your grades supported the notion. You had done exceedingly well in your studies and impressed the entire school every time you sang and acted as the lead role in the musical productions your high school, New Utrecht High School, put on. 

And Anthony Ramos, your best friend, was with you every step of the way. Meeting in sixth grade, you and Anthony had formed a friendship that no other could compare to. You two were the perfect pair, managing through life together. 

Your boots clicked on the linoleum tile floor of the high school, as you approached your locker. You admired the Thrasher sticker Anthony had slapped onto the locker months ago as a joke that ended up aggravating you even more than one of the teachers.

Setting in the locker combination, you quickly opened your locker, switching out your books with the ones you needed for your next class. You hummed a tune from one of the productions you starred in last year as you looked at yourself in the little hand-held mirror you always kept inside your locker. 

“Sup, (Y/n)!” Anthony practically screamed in your ear, making you yelp in surprise. You hadn’t noticed that he crept up on you. He laughed at your reaction as you put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart race. 

“Really, Ant?” You glared at him. You slammed the locker door shut and swung your backpack over your shoulder, almost hitting Anthony in the process. He managed to step aside before the backpack could make contact with him. 

“You gotta admit, I got you good,” He pointed out. You weren’t the one to scare easily. It had taken a while for Anthony to finally scare you when you admitted to him that you weren’t easily startled. He had gotten you a couple times before, but it was very rare.  

“You screamed in my ear, Anthony,” You said, rubbing my broken eardrum. You started moving down the hallway, Anthony running to catch up with you.

“Wait up, I wanna ask you somethin’” You stopped, sighing loudly. He stopped in front of you.

“Hey, so, you would be down for going to a small party at Marks tonight?” He asked. You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer, but chose to turn it down instead.

“No way, it’s going to one of his famous ‘fraternize and fuck’ parties. And his parts are the opposite of small,” You scowled. Anthony let out a slight chuckle at the familiar name you had invented for Mark’s famous parties.

“C’mon, please? You need to loosen up a bit and have fun!” He exaggerated. 

“The last time I ‘had fun’ and ‘loosened up’ was two months ago and we ended up in getting busted by the teacher for smoking behind the gym.” (a/n: ay, don’t smoke kids)

“We were curious!” He defended, putting his hands up. You rolled your eyes and tried to walk past him, but he got in front of you again.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” He gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which really did no justice, but you gave in anyways. 

“Fine,” You sighed. 

“Yes!” He cheered, throwing his fists into the air. “Meet at Mark’s house at nine.” A smile began to creep up on your face seeing him revel in his achievement. 

The bell rang, announcing that it was five minutes before class began. Anthony began to walk away, leaving you in the hallway. He turned around suddenly and pointed towards you, now walking backward, a wide grin on his face. He turned back around so he didn’t trip. You shook your head, wondering how you ended up with a friend like Anthony.

The strong smell of alcohol and weed infiltrated your nose as you opened the door to Mark’s parent-less house. You had managed to convince your parents to let you go, telling them that Anthony, the person they trusted more than you, would be there. It was only then when you were allowed to go. 

Your nose scrunched up as you walked further into the house. You were definitely getting high tonight, even if you didn’t smoke the weed that you knew was available. The house was already crowded, people dancing and bumping into you as the music blasted. 

For a second you stood on your tippy-toes, searching for Anthony. You hadn’t known if he had gotten here early or if he was still on his way. As you went back down on your feet, you felt a finger prod your back, making you yelp again and your back arch. You spun around and saw Anthony smiling wide. 

“Wow, twice in one day!” Anthony screamed over the music, his voice almost nearly audible. You put your hands on your hips and glared at him, making him laugh. 

He held two red solo cups, one in each hand, while he looked over your frame. You had worn a simple dress, nothing too provocative. But damn did it look good on you. 

You noticed his gaze and snickered, breaking it when you grabbed one of the cups from his hands. He shook his head and looked you in the eye, a smirk on your face. His face turned a deep crimson color, realizing that he was caught. 

You both weaved through the crowd, finally making it to a little spot underneath the stairs. 

“I feel like Harry Potter right now,” you said. You took a sip of your drink. Your eyes squeezed shut and you shook your head as the familiar taste of tequila slid down your throat. Anthony laughed, agreeing with you. 

You both began to talk aimlessly, covering all kinds of topics. These were the times you enjoyed the most: You and Anthony reveling in each others company while not giving a care in the world. All in all, you basically enjoyed being high and drunk with your best friend. In the middle of your conversation, someone offered you a blunt to which you and Anthony both took a few hits. The high starts kicking in about half an hour later, and you both felt your mind daze in and out. You didn’t drink that much, only a few cups.  You weren’t a lightweight compared to Anthony, who was. After only three cups, he was a completely different person. 

You were having the best time of your life as the night went on. You got up and danced at one point, dragging him along with you. At this point, you were both equally drunk and very high, not even managing to think correctly. You swayed your hips to the music, looking at Anthony, who was mesmerized by your movements. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have even thought of dancing let alone dance so explicitly.

 He walked up to you, meeting you close up. He had a nervous look on his face, making you stop for a moment. You looked at him and tilted your head, confused for a second. You got even closer to him, resting your arms on his shoulders. He could feel your hot breath on his face as he looked down. You looked down also, resting your forehead against his for a moment. You both then looked up at each other, thinking the exact same thing. In one motion, you and Anthony both leaned in, connecting your lips. 

The air was different in that moment. It felt like time had stopped like the earth had stopped moving. It was only you and Anthony at that moment, together, moving your lips in sync. You moved your hands to cup his neck, your fingers finding its way through his beautiful curly hair. As the world became audible again, you could hear the whoops and hollers from around you. You both had become the center of attention as everyone saw the two best friends finally kiss for the first time. 

You both separated the kiss, gasping for air. It felt like a dream to you and Anthony, not believing what just happened, but glad that it did. You had a smirk on your face, turning around and leading him off into a different part of the house.   

As soon as you shut the door to the pool house, he spun around and pinned you against the wall, kissing you deeply. You balled up a fistful of his shirt as you pushed back desperately. He tasted like the alcohol you had consumed earlier. He kissed you deeply as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He moved to your neck and peppered deep kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, making you gasp. His hands felt up and down your sides, grinding his hips against you. A small moaned escaped your lips as you felt his hardness rubbing against the wetness that was forming in your underwear. 

You hitched a leg up and around, wrapping around his upper thigh, which gave him easier access. He moved a hand from your side to your thigh, rubbing circles on your exposed skin. His hands slowly moved up your thigh, pushing up the material of your dress, and revealing the hem of your panties. So many things were happening at once, and your brain was buzzing with excitement. You began to moan softly at the sensation. There were so many feelings that were shooting through your body. The feeling of his lips leaving marks on your neck and chest. The feeling of his fingers rubbing up and down your leg, closer and closer-

Anthony stepped away so abruptly it almost made you fall over. You gave him a confused look before he began to walk over to the couch, and you quickly followed. He sat down on the large sofa. You moved over him, straddling. In that moment, he looked up and you thoughtfully, asking for permission with his eyes. You nodded slightly and confirmed the answer by cupping his face and kissing him. You felt him smirk against your lips as his hands flew to your waist. You kissed him again quickly before attaching your lips to his neck. Your fingers went to the collar of his shirt and worked skillfully to start undoing the buttons. 

You worked quickly to undo every button on his shirt. You pulled it open and stared down at his bare, freckled chest. You felt his hardness growing in between your legs. Instead of kissing his neck again, your lips traveled to his collarbone, to his chest, slowly down to his stomach. 

“(Y/n),” He breathed as you kissed just right above the edge of his pants. Your fingers moved to unzip his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear quickly to reveal his large cock. You found yourself staring at it for a moment, adoring his size. You took it in your hand and placed a kiss on the tip. He let out a shuddering breath. 

You moved your mouth to the base of his length and slowly licked up to the tip. Once you got to the tip, you took the entire head into your mouth and began to bob your head up and down. 

“Fuck, (Y/n),” Anthony said. He began to ball up his fists at the sight of your mouth around him. He had wanted this for so long, and it was finally happening. You began to go lower before he stopped you.

“You don’t have to push yourself,” he managed to say in between breaths. You removed your mouth rubbed your hand up and down his length to replace the friction that was lost. You looked up at him and smirked. 

“I don’t have a gag reflex,” You simply stated before once again attaching your mouth to the tip of his cock. 

You sunk lower down on his cock, reaching the base. You didn’t gag, thanks to you not having a gag reflex. Anthony moaned each time his cock rubbed harshly against the back your mouth. You heard him mumble incoherent words as his body shuddered, signaling how much he was enjoying this. You soon felt your mouth fill the taste of precum and his hand on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He began to move your head down on his forcefully. You moaned against him, the vibrations sending him even closer to the edge. 

You knew he was close when his cock began to twitch, and his eyes were shut tightly. He bit his lip and threw his head back as he reached his climax. But before he could, you removed your mouth, making a loud popping sound. His eyes opened at the loss of friction. You stood up in front of him and reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. 

You slowly stepped out of your dress and Anthony’s eyes raked over your body. While remaining eye contact with him, you then reached back again to unclasp your bra. The bra fell to the floor and Anthony’s eyes went wide. He had never seen anything so perfect before. You removed the rest of undergarments and stood there, completely naked in front of your best friend slash crush. You suddenly felt nervous in front of him, sobering up a little bit. He leaned forward and reached a gentle hand out to you. 

“Don’t be self-conscience,” he said as you took his hand, leading you to him. You straddled him again, heat against heat. 

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered as he grabbed your hips. He leaned forward and brought his lips to yours. You slowly began to move your hips, your throbbing slit rubbing up and down against his cock. You both moaned into each others mouth. You felt his hand trail down to your thigh before slipping between your legs. You rested your head on his shoulder, panting heavily. His fingers pressed between your folds before bringing them back up to rub circles on your clit. You lurched forward at the sudden sensation and moaned loudly, which seemed to encourage Anthony. He rubbed faster, the pressure growing instantly. He then inserted his fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out of you. You gasped as he curled his fingers inside you, stretching you out. Your fingernails dug into the back of his shoulder as you felt a familiar tightness growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Anthony…” You breathed softly. 

“Say my name,” He whispered. 

“Anthony,” You moaned louder. You kept repeating his name over and over again, moaning louder and louder each time. He put his thumb on your clit and began rubbing again. He continued, faster and faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. The feeling of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit sent you sent you falling over the edge, moaning as you came, come covering Anthony’s fingers. He gently rubbed your clit as you rode out your climax.

You breathed heavily against his shoulder. He pulled out his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking your juices. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he said. You smirked as you began to move your hips against his cock again, missing the friction. You stopped for a moment and reached your hand down to grab his cock, grabbing it and putting the tip into your entrance. You moved your hand to his neck again and sank down. Both of you moaned as his length filled you immediately, tears pricking your eyes as you reached the base. You were unmoving for a moment, his cock inside of you, as you adjusted to his large size. 

Then you began to move, moaning. Anthony grabbed your hips again and brought you up and down on him. 

“Fuck, Anthony, touch me,” you said in between breaths. His hands flew up to breasts and started to knead them with his palm. You moved your head to rest on his shoulders again. 

“An-Anthony?” You asked, stopping your movements. Anthony immediately stopped also, thinking that he had done something wrong. 

“What is it? What’s wrong” 

“How will we get home tonight?” Anthony’s worried face faltered into a smile. He began to thrust into you again, much slower than before. 

“We’ll figure it out,” He said, continuing his actions. You leaned down to kiss him again, tasting the traces of your heat that was left on his tongue. 

He kept the pace slow and sensual and you both built up your climaxes. You reveled in the feeling of him filling you, moaning loudly with each deep thrust. Anthony loved the sounds you made, loved making you feel this way. 

Using his strength, he flipped you over and began to quicken his pace, feeling himself grow nearer to his climax. You lolled your head back and moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he began to pound into you. His hot breath on your neck and his grunts made it clear that he was close, and to be fair, you were extremely close as well. 

With a final moan, you came, making your vision blurry and spotted. Anthony continued, spurring on faster. You felt him twitch inside of you. With a final deep thrust, he came inside you, his come pouring into your walls and filling you. He slowed his pace, riding out both of your highs. 

He sat up, removing himself from you. You squirmed, now feeling the cold air. You both took deep breaths. You lifted yourself off the couch, reaching for your discarded clothing. While you got dressed, you stole small glances at Anthony, getting a last look at his bare frame. Feeling a bit nauseous from your alcohol consumption, you ran to the bathroom of the pool house, emptying the contents of your stomach into the bowl.    

It only took about two minutes until a now sobered-up Anthony came in to check on you. You still hunched over the toilet, making sure you had thrown-up everything. That’s when you realized what you had just done. You just had sex with your best friend. What did it mean? Does he love you? Do you love him? Was it just the spur of the moment? You didn’t know. What happens now? Your whole friendship could be ruined all because you came to this party.

Anthony ran his hand through his short curls, wondering if this entire night happened or not. You wondered as well.

However, there was one thing you knew quite definitely...

You had been reckless.

[decimatoroflight]

Book of Darkness: Chapter 3

Decimator of Light: Book of Darkness Chapter 3: Old Sketches

             It only took half an hour for the three of them to be sitting together on the floor in Kazuko’s bedroom. It was considerably more organized than Cin’s; the bed was made, the desk was neat, all the books were on the shelves organized alphabetically and by subject, and the walls were covered with posters of K-rock stars, papers with witty quotes, Asian weapons, and action-movie characters. There was a large stereo sitting in a corner connected to the computer, and in the other corner was a large chest filled with various metal parts, wires, and computer chips that Kazuko used to build battle-bots or fix computers.

             Cin was leaning against the wall, and Mark was beside him, flushed and still panting after jogging back from his house; he must have really booked it. Kazuko sat in front of them, her eyes narrowed at Cin. He had refused to begin talking until their blond friend was in the room with them.

             “So,” Mark finally broke the cold silence, still breathless and wiping some sweat from his forehead. His eyes shifted to the friend next to him. He had noticed Cin shaking in his car on the way there, but had known better than to press him on the matter until the three were together. “What’d we miss?”

             “Today...” Cin paused. He’d spent the last hour playing over everything that had happened that day in his head, thinking about what he’d say, how he’d phrase everything. But now that he was there with Mark and Kazuko in the same room, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. “Today’s been really off,” he finally managed, attempting to organize all his thoughts into something more coherent. He had no idea how to explain everything without sounding utterly insane.

             “No! Really?” The one girl in the room gasped with sarcastic horror, putting a hand over her heart. “Because, you know. People get shanked all the time, especially you. Same old, same old,” the sarcasm faded into a glare that cut into Cin, demanding he get to the point.

             “More happened,” Cin continued, his eyes darting momentarily to Mark. The blond didn’t look confused in the slightest, which meant that Kazuko had already informed him of that day’s adventure at the diner. He was relieved that he didn’t have to explain that part, but it still left a lot for him to say. “After I dropped you off, Kazuko.��

             Cin finally managed to tell his friends of the rest of day’s happenings, starting with almost being hit by the truck and ending with almost cracking his skull open on his own weights. He mentioned the strange white circle he’d seen in the mirror as well, hoping one of them might have had some logical explanation for it. The two listened to him, expressions shifting between shocked and concerned, and when Cin finished, Mark locked his jaw with a look of deep suspicion.

             “It can’t all just be accidents. It doesn’t make sense.”

             “What else can it be, though?” Kazuko sighed as she leaned back against her bed. She looked annoyed, but she wasn’t nearly as concerned as Mark was. “That truck driver obviously wasn’t aiming for him, the girl in the restaurant was bawling after she stabbed him-”

             “The circle,” Cin blurted out, looking between the two of them. He could tell from Mark’s expression that he and Kazuko had been on the brink of starting an argument, and he didn’t want that, not before they worked together to help him figure out that that strange, white-hot circle had been. “That’s what’s bugging me the most. I’m not the type of person that just sees things, or believes in weird things like that, but I know I saw it. I do.”

             “Probably your lamp,” Kazuko shrugged without missing a beat. “You said the lights flickered, right? It was probably a bright flash before it faded out and then back to normal. Electrical surge or something. Not a big deal – especially considering the fact that any light leaves you blind as a bat, Luna,” her tone clearly suggested that she had permanently ended that discussion. But Mark didn’t look convinced.

             “I don’t know,” the blond admitted, looking away with a guilty expression.

             “What?” She snapped at the mere idea of him contradicting her.

             “I...it just seems familiar to me,” Mark couldn’t word it properly, any better than Cin had. “I don’t know why. I just feel like something like that’s happened to me before or that I’ve seen something like that before. Something’s familiar. With the white circle.”

             “I feel like I saw it before, too!” Cin cried, glad that he wasn’t the only one feeling unsure about Kazuko’s justification. “That’s what bugged me the most, it’s like I just saw it somewhere, somewhere not long ago.”

             “Well, if it’s just some white circle, duh,” Kazuko rolled her eyes.

             “What?” Both boys turned towards their friend. She stared at them for a second in disbelief, but when their wide, awaiting expressions didn’t change, she heaved a deep sigh.

             “Are you two serious? He’s been drawing frikken circles in his sketchbook since he could hold a pencil! He’s probably drawn a thousand in there and another million on his homework! Getting a deja vu feeling because of one isn’t exactly some big movie twist.”

             “Wait...You mean the eyes?” Mark muttered, mulling the thought over. But, be quickly saw the connection as well and a look of realization came over his face. “Cin, I think she’s right. I think that may be where I remember it from.”

             “No,” Cin said firmly. “It...it was like them, but it definitely wasn’t one I’ve ever drawn before. The ones I sketch are from my dreams, and they’ve always got color to them. Half of them are pure black, and the other half of pink or green or something random. This was just white. I’ve never seen a white one before.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Cin didn’t want to go into details with his two friends, not at the moment. Instead, all the talk about his sketches made him slowly realize another possible explanation for the white circle. “Wait. Maybe...I was dreaming?” He looked between his friends, who both paused to consider the idea.

             “That makes the most sense, actually,” Kazuko agreed. “You daydream too much as it is, and you lost a good hunk of blood today. You probably passed out standing up and had a night terror. Or you hit your head on your car and don’t remember,” she frowned with more serious concern. “Shit, maybe we do need to go to the hospital...”

             The mention of the hospital had Cin tensing suddenly, though he wasn’t too sure why.

             “Hold on, hold on. That still doesn’t explain the other things, though,” Mark didn’t look convinced, and Cin was able to breathe again thanks to the change of subject.

             “And what explanation is there? There’s a group of people trying to assassinate Luna?” Kazuko lifted an eyebrow at him. “Don’t sound crazy.”

             “It’s just as crazy to pretend all that could be coincidence,” Mark cut back, glaring slightly at Kazuko.

             “I-I don’t know,” Cin said, cutting in to prevent an argument again. “I mean...I hate to say this, but maybe Kazuko’s right, maybe I’m overreacting.” He felt his face burn slightly with shame, especially when he saw the look of disbelief on the blond boy’s face. “I mean, everyone has an off day, right? That girl tripped, the guy in the truck was half-asleep-”

             “But you’ve never been hurt before!” Mark argued. “Ever, in your life!”

             “So I was long overdue, right?” Cin tried to laugh, as though it was a joke, but he kept his eyes to the right, away from Marks’ gaze. “It’s more unnatural that things like this haven’t happened to me. Well, smaller things, anyway. I know, it’s a big deal to be stabbed and almost run over in the same day, but if I’m okay, maybe I just got you two to panic for nothing? Sorry, guys.”

             Cin finally looked at his two friends after he finished. Kazuko obviously agreed with him, but Mark looked as though he’d been struck across the face.

“Exactly,” Kazuko nodded, giving Mark a look to suggest he drop it. “And it’s getting kind of late. How about we watch a movie or something and sleep?”

             “Whatever,” Mark muttered in a defeated tone, standing up, but making sure not to look either one in the eye. “I’m going to go change; my clothes’re sweaty.”

             As Cin watched his friend head to the bathroom, he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d betrayed his best friend. Mark had always been the one who thought outside the box, the one who thought mind could defeat matter, who kept open to the possibility of things that science couldn’t explain. He was the poet, the one who wrote about the impossible becoming possible. Kazuko was a technological person who always wanted to see things logically, how they systematically got from point A to point B. And though Cin was an artist, a painter, he painted only what was in his dreams, and he recognized them to be just that – dreams and nothing more. Even worse, and though he didn’t like to admit it, he was a little lazy, and would prefer that the explanations to things be as simple as possible. Especially, for some reason, right now. Cin needed whatever the easiest explanation was, the one where this was all the smallest deal. He knew Mark couldn’t be okay with an explanation like that given everything that had happened, but Cin simply needed it to be true.

             “He’ll be okay,” Kazuko ensured him, seeing the guilt consuming Cin’s face. “Come on, you probably have to change, too.”

             “Yeah,” Cin shifted to his knees and crouched in front of his bag, fishing out some comfortable clothes. But after a moment of looking his own pajamas over, he remembered about a gift that Kazuko had gotten recently. And an idea popped into Cin’s head -- one he couldn’t resist, not with all the negative feelings that had just filled the room. They needed something light-hearted, especially for Mark. Giving Kazuko a rather wicked smirk, Cin leaned towards her and muttered, “You know what’d help him forget faster, though?”

             Kazuko’s cheeks turned pink. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Shut up, you jerk.”

             “Ten bucks says he’ll start feeling all awkward,” Cin continued, nonetheless, knowing Kazuko couldn’t resist a dare.

             “They’re sticky and uncomfortable and the only reason my aunt gave them to me is because she heard I can’t get a boyfriend, and that I went to school in my pajamas one time. My dad would kill me if I actually ever wore them. Besides, Mark’ll just laugh.”

             “So?” Cin lifted his eyebrow in challenge.

             Kazuko crossed her arms over her chest, glaring and pouting deeply at the boy in front of her. He smiled back, very cocky, not faltering despite the distrust in her eyes. After several seconds of silent staring, the girl gave a deep nod as though accepting a risky business deal.

             “Fine! I’ll take your bet. Get your money ready,” she walked over to her closet, rummaging through her things until she found a set of silken pajamas. She stuck her tongue out at the boy before she leaving for the bathroom, giving Cin the chance to switch clothing in privacy and snicker at her reaction. When Cin was changed, Mark entered the room behind him in a pair of sweatpants and a large shirt. The blond looked around the room quickly before asking slowly,

             “And Kazuko’s...?”

             “Changing, too,” Cin answered with a small shrug. “What movie we going to watch?”

             “Anything with fighting and no mention of anything involving classes, colleges, or anything even mildly pertaining to them,” Mark sighed as he sat down.

             “So a nice, old Yazuka movie?” Cin asked, looking at the options Kazuko had available. Her father had brought back dozens of sets of subtitled movies from his father’s house, and the group had been slowly going through all of them, one at a time, in pure fascination since.

             “Oh, hell yes,” Mark grinned widely. “Nothing like mindless violence and a good bro-mance. I love watching that stuff, here.”

             “Maybe you should show up more, then?” Cin feigned an innocent tone, looking to the side innocently. “If you like the movies so much, I mean. You can just jog here and-”

             “Oh, yeah, sure,” Mark rolled his eyes before putting on a large, painfully-fake smile as he attempted to predict what that situation would sound like. “‘Hi, Kazuko! I know you told me never to come here without Cin, ever, but I did it anyway in spite of you!’” His gaze shifted suddenly to his own left arm. “‘Oh, look, and now my arm’s suddenly broken. What an unprecedented development!’” With the performance over, Mark dropped the smile. “I’m enough that much of a stalker. What’s wrong with you?”

             “You’re not a stalker!” Cin stared at him in disbelief. “She follows you around. She shows up at your track practices. You haven’t followed her anywhere since she stole that megaphone to tell you to leave her alone.”

             “Ah, freshman year,” Mark sighed wistfully at the memory. “What nice memories.”

             “Freshman year?” Kazuko’s voice suddenly interjected behind the two boys. “That year sucked, you’re a liar.” The two boys chuckled at her comment and the girl stepped into the room. Mark’s laughter was instantly caught in his throat when he saw her.

             Kazuko never wore anything fewer than three sizes too large, but the pajamas that Cin had dared her to wear were a little tight. The bottom part was nothing more than a pair of black, silk shorts and the shirt was a small black, high-collar shirt with a red outline that showed an inch or two of her midriff. She’d let her hair down from her usual braid and let her chin-long bangs frame her smug and giddy expression.

             “What!?” She barked at Mark, unable to hide a smirk, though she was trying to sound intimidating.

             “N-nothing!” He yelped, snapping out of his trance, and quickly turned away. He tried using a hand to cover his face in a vain attempt to hide how quickly his face was turning red. “I...I’m going to go make us something to eat,” he mumbled awkwardly and darted out of the room, allowing Cin to finally burst into laughter.

             “Ten bucks,” Cin said, holding his hand out and Kazuko instantly slapped two fives into it. The money had been in her hand the entire time.

             “Worth it,” she said simply, eyeing the door through which Mark had escaped like a scared rabbit from a cage. After a second of thought, she added, “Think he’ll freak out more if I lean on him while we’re watching the movie?”

             “If by ‘freak out more’ you mean ‘explode’, then yes,” Cin nodded wholeheartedly.

             “Nice,” with her expression still smug, she left the room to follow after Mark in the kitchen.

             Cin’s smile faded the instant Kazuko was gone. He had been trying to get the two to leave the room, at least for a few minutes, since they’d mentioned the white circle, and although he felt guilty for taking advantage of Mark’s feelings in such a way, the nagging in his stomach was bothering him considerably more. Cin had technically lied about never seeing white eyes in his dreams, but he wanted to check something before admitting anything to either of his friends. His dreams were hard to talk about – they had often felt so real when he was young that he’d embarrassed himself many times, insisting they had actually happened. To this day, Cin had difficulty even bringing up anything other than a vague, ‘Oh, yeah, I dreamed them,’ whenever Mark of Kazuko asked what he was drawing.

             Cin hurriedly dug through his bag until he found the sketchbook he’d been talking about minutes before. He flipped to the end of his sketchbook, where he had the figures of two people drawn roughly in pencil. The person on the left of the picture was a middle-aged woman who was wearing a small crown and a warm smile. Her hair was in a tight bun, and her wise, perfectly black eyes stared back at him from the paper like Cin had just done some something very endearing. But the man next to her, with his long hair tied back, stubble speckled all over his chin, white lab coat, and two scars over his left eye, had pure white eyes. There was a small, gray ring that separated what may have been the iris from the rest of the man’s eye, but where was no pupil or any other pigment to speak of. It was definitely the white circle Mark and Kazuko had thought about; it was the only white eye Cin ever drew. No one else in his dreams had eyes like that.

             But the eyes of the man in the picture had never frightened Cin before. These white eyes were kind, warm, welcoming, just like the black eyes of the woman, and it was that inherent kindness kept Cin from mentioning this picture, this person, to his friends. The two people on the paper constantly appeared in Cin’s dreams, and he knew them quite well by now. The woman loved flowers and birds, as well as sitting back and sipping tea while waiting for something to finish at its own pace. She was placid and kind, always able to calm down those around her with sweet words and a charming laugh. The man, on the other hand, was light-hearted but very impatient. He had a fascination with mushrooms and fish and was constantly hopping around, trying different experiments, postulating different hypotheses, never able to sit still. The only time Cin ever saw the man sitting without fidgeting was when he drank tea with the woman.

             Cin didn’t know where these two people came from or what they meant to his subconscious, but he felt close to them. Cin had never seen the man in his dreams do anything unjust; he was always helping others and his face, his eyes told of that. The orb that had stared at Cin from his mirror had been cold and cruel; it had made him scared to even breathe. There was simply no way that the two white circles had any connection to each other, despite being the same color. Cin was sure of it.

             The teen stuffed the sketchbook back into his bag, positive that he had withheld the information for a good reason, and then walked to the clean, marble kitchen to see Mark frying some sausages alone and muttering angrily to himself, his cheeks still a little pink.

             “...only when he’s here! Making sure to show off, right after she knows she got into college, as far away from me as she can get-”

             “Hey, yo, right here,” Cin waved his hand a bit to get Mark’s attention before he heard anything more. Cin was unable to suppress a small grin when his friend jumped so violently that he almost sent the food into the air.

             “Cin!!” His whole face burned with shame. “Er, Cin, I was...and-”

             “Don’t worry about it,” Cin brushed it off and leaned against the counter beside the blond. He continued speaking before his friend could manage to stammer something more coherent. “But she didn’t dress up for me. She never dresses up around me. And I think you know by now that, although I think she’s great and all, you know she’s like a sister to me,” Cin shrugged at the thought, sighing as though it was his fault for being unable to see past the fear of physical pain. “Besides, she seems more like a poetry-loving type to me.”

             Mark’s eyes lowered in apologetically as his face darkened even further. After a moment, his green eyes lifted, and he and Cin shared a smile, both aware that there were no hard feelings.

             “I wish,” Mark finally admitted, bowing his head in defeat. He just groaned hopelessly, slamming the spatula onto the counter. “Sorry! I know you hate it when I start thinking she wants you. It’s kind of hard not to, though. I mean, she’s...her arms! She’s showing her arms! Did you know she has arms? And legs! I didn’t even remember she HAD legs, anymore! And I haven’t seen her hair down since that basketball game FOUR years ago!”

             “How very creepy of you to remember that,” Cin pointed out before continuing. “But, I’ve seen all that way less than you have. And pay attention a lot less to it. I see her arms and stuff, and I see the muscle underneath and flinch in fear. You see it, and you like it because you’re a masochist or whatever’s wrong with you. And she knows this in her tricksy little head,” Cin tapped his temple, before asking, “So, who do you think she’s dressing up for?”

             Mark was quiet for a moment, knowing in the logical part of his mind that what his friend said made perfect sense. He stayed quiet, watching Cin pick the spatula up to flip the sausages onto their uncooked sides.

             “If it’s for me, it’s to mess with my brain,” Mark finally decided on, but then he paused, his eyes widening as though having an epiphany. “But then again, do I really mind?” The blond looked up, asking his brain that question out loud. After a moment, he gave a small laugh, his jealousy obviously gone.

             Cin rolled his eyes at the comment, but then jerked in pain as a bit of oil hit his arm. He gave a sharp hiss, dropping the spatula to the ground, splattering the clean floor with several droplets of residual oil. It wasn’t the most horrible pain, but it was beyond surprising for Cin.

             Mark frowned and pushed his friend towards the kitchen door. “No offense, but I think I’ll finish up. Don’t need all the oil spilling on you or something ‘by coincidence,’” The last part was accompanied by air quotes. “Go sit with Kazuko, I’ll be there in a sec.”

             “Good idea,” Cin chuckled, but as he turned to leave, his smile vanished and eyes looked to the small, circular burn already forming on his arm. Yet another thing that had never happened to him before. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Now he was with his friends. He was safe. There was no need to think about his problems, he told himself.

             Cin walked towards the living room to spend the night watching a movie with his two best friends, taking no notice to his shadow behind him. If he had, he could have noticed a circle of light appearing on the left side of his shadow’s face, a white circle staring up at him from where there should have been nothing but darkness.

[artificialqueens]

Your life is gonna change me (Biadore) Chapter 6 - AbbiNeedless

“Ok, guys, now that we all are here I have something to announce and you’re not gonna like it.” Adore sat on her desk and looked at her students.

“Oww, don’t say that!” Farrah said. “You’re making us nervous.” Naomi said. “Well, you know that when a woman is pregnant there is a time when her doctor says ‘You have to take a rest.’” “Oh no…” “I’m not going to teach you the rest of the summer sessions and I’m going to take off the next semester, professor Visage is going to take my place with you.” “Oww, no! Why?” Farrah moaned. “Why can’t you keep teaching us?” “I was also sad when my doctor told me that I had to take a rest but I have to do it for my health and for my babies as well.” “Oh…” “Yeah, I’m sorry kids.” “Don’t worry, Mrs. Adore, we understand.” Aja hugged her girlfriend. “We’ll take the classes with Mrs. Visage.” “I wish the best of lucks, my kids.” Adore took her backpack. “No, no, no, let us help you.” Aja took Adore’s backpack. “It’s the last thing we can do for you.” “Well, if you insist.”

Both of the girls walked with her to the parking lot, joking and laughing with her.

“There’s my wife’s car.” “Oh, alright.”

They walked to the car where Bianca was waiting for her.

“Hello, Mrs. Del Rio.” “Hello, girls, how is the summer course going?” “Oww…” “I’ll take that as Adore already told you the bad news.” “She is not taking the news so well.” Aja said and gave her Adore’s backpack. “I can see that.” “It’s just…” Farrah said. “Mrs. Visage is rude to everyone and she is-.” “A bitch?” “Don’t say that, you can summon her!” Aja looked at her back. “She is everywhere.” She whispered. “Really, queen?” “They’re right, Bea.” Adore stand by her side. “She is a witch and…” “I heard you!” Michelle walked by their side and gave them an annoyed look. “Told you.” Adore waved her hand to her coworker. “Anyways, thank you so much, girls for helping me with my things.” “You’re welcome!” “We’ll see you at the baby shower.” “We’ll be there!”

—-

Since she got pregnant Adore started to eat things she never thought she would and that made Bianca laugh, one night she caught Adore eating radish with only lemon.

“Stop laughing at me!” “You’re fucking eating radish at 3 am in the dark of our living room.” She said before bursting into laugh again. “You can’t ask me to not laugh.” “Rude.”

They were at the mall and Adore went straight to the vegetables and fruits section.

“Dorey?” “I want to grab…” “What?” “You’re gonna laugh at me.” “Nothing new, actually.” She smiled to her. “Come on, what are you buying?”

She walked to where the fruits were placed.

“Pomegranates!” “What the fuck is that?” She asked her trying to not burst into laughter again. “Pomegranates!” She handed her one. “Those are amazing.” “You don’t like them.” “Ethan and Willow like them so I have to eat them.” She took them into a plastic bag and put into their shopping car. “What about radishes?” “I fucking hate you.” “I love you, baby.”

They kept doing their shopping, walking around with her now really big belly was a little bit difficult for Adore but she didn’t matter, she loved it, she walked to the snacks area with Bianca behind her.

“Adore, last time you told me that I have to stop you whenever you wanted to eat junk food, remember that Sasha told you that you need to have a healthy diet.” “I know that but I’ve been craving for dried fruits all the week and…” She took out her cellphone. “I read that dried fruits are high in vitamins, calories, fiber and minerals, and that means they’re really good for the babies!”

Bianca put her hand on Adore’s big belly.

“You are full of… Shit, that was a hard kick!” Bianca looked at where she had felt the little hit. “You see? They want to eat dried fruits!” “Ok, ok, you three win.”

Adore put two big bags of snacks in their shopping car and walked with Bianca to the cashier.

“My mom said that I have to start using cream for my stretch marks.” “Cream?” “Yeah, I don’t want my skin to look all stretchy after they born, it’ll look ugly.” “No, it’ll look beautiful.” “Don’t star this corny shit!” “I’m an old lady, I’m corny.”

It was finally their turn to pay.

“I mean it, Bea, those will look ugly-“ “Adore?”

Adore recognize that voice, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Adore, is it you?” “Krystian…” “I haven’t seen you in years!” He looked at her belly. “It seems that life had treated you well.” “Yeah… It’s been great.” “When is your baby going to born? It looks like it’s going to be soon” He took the credit card from Bianca’s hand. “In three months, actually…” “Wow, your belly is really big, the dad must be proud.”

Dad?

“Excuse me?” “Your husband, you know, who got you pregnant.”

This motherfucker.

“I think you don’t have the right to say this kind of things to her.” Bianca interrupted him. “It’s none of your business.” “Sorry ma’am, who are you?” “She is my wife.” Adore said. “What?” “Her wife, are you deaf?” “You married another woman?” He asked Adore in shock. “Yes, I did…” “If you married a woman how did you… You know, got pregnant?” “Is this guy serious?” Bianca had had enough of his bullshit. “Are you going to give me my credit card back or what?”

He looked at her surprised, he was about to say something when the manager approached to them.

“Is there something wrong?” “Your employee is asking inappropriate questions to my wife and is not giving me my credit card back, Tammie.” “Krystian.” “Sorry, mrs Brown.” He gave Bianca her credit card and her ticket. “It won’t happen again.” “I’m sure Tammie is going to make sure of that.” She looked at the manager. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me, Bianca, I’m sorry for his behavior.” “Don’t worry, it’s ok.” Adore whispered next to Bianca, she took her hand and looked away from Krystian who was still staring at her. “Let’s go, my love.”

Adore got into the car while Bianca put the bags in the trucker, Bianca noticed that Adore was lost in her thoughts, she was looking through the window without blinking.

“Dorey, are you ok?” “Yes… Yes, I’m ok.” “You don’t seem to be fine, baby.” “I’m fine, ok? Can we go home now?” “… Yeah.”

—-

They parked out of their home and Adore was still lost in her thoughts.

“Adore?” She took her hand. “Are you ok?” “Yeah… I’m ok.” “Are you sure?” “I just need a moment alone.”

Adore got out of the car as fast as she could and walked to her house.

“… and I’m telling you, Vi.” Valentina said on the phone. “I heard that Eureka has crush on Farrah!… Hi, auntie!”

She walked to their room ignoring her niece and closed the door.

“What did I say?” She looked at Bianca who was standing in the door with the grocery bags in her hands. “What happened?” “A weird guy in the supermarket, I’m not sure of what happened either.” “Oh…” She spoke on the phone again. “Sorry, Vi, I’ll call you later.” “Bitch, you were telling me about Eure-“ “Need help?” She put her cellphone on the coffee table. “Let’s put the groceries on the cabinet.” “What about Adore?” “She just needs a little bit of space, I’ll talk with her later.”

—-

Bianca took a long breath and knocked on the door.

“Adore? My love, can I come in?” No response. “Baby?”

When the door was opened she saw Adore sitting on the edge of the bed looking through the window, she had her arms covering her belly and was silently crying.

“Oh, baby.” She sat by her side on the bed and hugged her wife, a sob escaped from her mouth, she covered her face and started crying harder. “I’m-sorry, Bianca, I’m-so so-rry.” “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” She kissed her temple and hold her close to her. “Nothing.” “That’s not true!” Adore almost screamed. “I just broke down after I saw Krystian again, I’m so fucking weak and pathetic.” “You’re not weak and pathetic.” “Yes, I am. Look at me, Bianca, I’m a fucking mess!” She wiped her tears away leaving mascara stains in her cheeks. “How am I supposed to be an example of strength to my kids? I just fucking broke down after seeing him again.”

Bianca hugged her again and let her cry on her shoulder, she knew that Adore’s past was something she didn’t like to talk about, she didn’t ask questions, she just hold her until Adore’s breath was normal again.

“Baby.” “…” “You’re strong.” “I’m not.” “You’re brave.” “I’m not.” “Yes you are.” Adore turned around and looked at her. “Adore, you are brave and strong, there’s people that after what you went through just let themselves fall but you kept going. Look at all of what you’ve achieved; you got your music degree, you teach in one of the most prestigious universities of the country, you have your own house, you got married with someone who loves you and respects you no matter what and now you are carrying our babies.” She wrapped her in her arms. “You are strong, Ethan and Willow are going to be proud of calling you their mother.” “Are you sure of that?” She hiccupped in her neck. “Yes, wanna know why?” She felt Adore nod against her neck. “Because I’m proud of you.” “…” “I love you, Adore, I love you with all of my heart.” “I love you too.”

Bianca took her make-up wipes from her purse and removed all of the make-up from Adore’s face.

“Pretty.” She kissed her forehead.

Adore traced her finger in Bianca’s jaw and left little kisses on it.

“I love you so much.” “Want to Netflix and chill?” “Sure, why not?”

—-

“I still do not like Bob.” “Me neither.” Valentina said and took some dried fruits from Adore’s bowl. “What do you mean you don’t like Bob?” Bianca asked them. “He is in Hopper place, Hopper is the one who should be by Joyce’s side no Bob.” “Oh come on, he is amazing, he is helping them to decipher Will’s drawings.” “I still don’t like him.” Valentina took a sip of her soda. “Tia Bianca, now that I remember.” “What?” “The mailman came earlier and left some letters, you may want to check them.” “Oh…”

Bianca got up and walked to the little table that was next to the main door, she took the envelopes and started to check them.

University of California Valentina del Rio

“Val, this is for you, it’s from the university.” “I’ll check it later.” “Alright.”

Reproductive Technologies, Inc. Your next appointment was successfully scheduled on August 10th

“Well, this one is ok.”

To Bianca del Rio From Dante del Rio

“Holy shit…” “Bianca, Hopper is in the Upside Down now… Bea?” “…” “Bea, are you ok?” Adore looked at her and noticed how freaked out she was. “Yeah, yeah… I just need a moment.” “Bea, where are you going? Bea?”

Bianca ran into her office and locked the door behind her, she took a long breath and looked again at the envelope to make sure she read the right thing.

From Dante del Rio

“Holy fuck… This is real, this is fucking real.” She sat on the floor with her back against the door. “Fuck.”

She took out the letter and started to read it.

My dearest Bea. I’m so happy to hear from you, it’s been literally years since the last time we saw each other, it’s really good to know from you from time to time.

Actually I’m really happy to hear that you’ve achieved so many things in your life, I always knew you were mend to do amazing things and with all of your vision and ambition I knew your future and life was not in Louisiana.

About Valentina I’m happy to know that she is ok, when all of that crap happened she came to us looking for shelter but your mother was really clear with what she thought about Vale’s preferences. I was angry to see that the story was repeating again with her but this time I knew that she was not going to be alone, I knew there was someone who would help her; you. I’m so proud and thankful for you, Bianca, you don’t have an idea of how much.

Now knowing the family is growing and that you are becoming a mother in some months makes me feel so, so happy. You deserve this, you deserve a family that does not treat you different for who you are and now you’re going to have it. Congratulations to you and your wife!

I want to meet my grandbabies and my daughter in law, I want to meet them, I don’t care what your mother would say, I want to be there for you if you allow me.

I’m also sending you my cellphone number and my e-mail if you want to contact me in a quickest way.

I love you my little Bea. I hope to see you soon.

Papa.

PS. I framed the photos you sent us and I have them in the living room, your mother hates me now.

“Fucking old man…” She wiped the tears from her face. “I love him so much.”

She heard a knock on the door.

“Bea? Baby, are you ok?”

She got up and opened the door.

“I’m fine.” “My God, you were crying.” It was not a question, it was a statement. Adore walked to her, her belly bumping against Bianca’s stomach, and wrapped her arms around her. “Those are happy tears, my love.” “Tia, you never cry and you never let us see you crying.” “This is the exception.” She handed them the letter. “The old man wrote me back.” “What?” Adore took the letter and read it with Valentina. “Oh my God…” “Abuelito…” Valentina tried to hold back her tears but just seeing her grandfather’s handwriting made her feel homesick. “Don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to fucking cry again and then Adore is going to cry and we all are going to be just a bunch of crybabies.” “I don’t fucking care, I have two crybabies in my belly and I’m one as well.” Adore kissed Bianca’s cheek. “Are you gonna contact him?” “Can I invite him to the baby shower, my love?” “Of course! Invite him, I wanna meet him!”

Bianca walked to her desk with a big smile on her face, she opened her mail and started to type a mail.

To: mrdantedelrio1950@mail.com From: thebiancadelrio@mail.com

Hi, dad.

I received your letter and I’m so glad to hear from you, like really glad. I talked with Adore and we want to invite you to our baby shower.

Val is also really excited to see you again.

The baby shower will be in on September 22nd but we would like you to come a few days before the party so you can meet my family and we can take you on a tour all over the city.

Hope to see you soon, Papa.