#it's supposed to look like a line of coke but idk

[revasserium]

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

[niya-writesshit]

HEYYYY GIRLLLYYY IDK IF U REMEMBER ME FROM UR LAST BLOG BUT IM UR BIGGEST FAN FRFR

okok so imagine this like hear me out. i have two actually!

so rafe cameron licking tequila off of you as like a dare or something and obv smut to entail

orrr him doing lines off of you which I'm not even sure would work lmaooo but i'd go feral over that shit!!

xx

HOLLY OFC I REMEMBER YOU OMG (im gonna do the tequila one bc idk how the coke one would work really but i will get back to u)

TW: smut, alcohol, drugs, MNDI

word count: 655 (i went a little cray this was supposed to be short)

you're topper's ex in this

everybody was so wasted. you could barely remember the events of two minutes ago, let alone the beginning of this long game of truth dare or dare. discarded bottles and clothing littered the ground of topper's living room, and the ring of people began to get smaller and smaller as people passed out or went home. two random girls had been dared to kiss, and they were making out passionately in the middle of the circle.

"okay enough, lesbos." topper pushes them apart, earning a groan from some. "next." one of the girls grazed her eyes around the circle, landing on rafe.

"i dare you to lick tequila off of someone's pussy." a roar went up from around the circle, and a lazy grin spread across rafe's face. he hummed and glanced at topper as his smile widened, flashing his canines in a wildly attractive way.

"y/n." your name rolls off of his tongue nonchalantly and you bite your lip. topper's jaw tightens, but he grabs a half-empty bottle of tequila from the floor and tosses it to rafe.

you were so drunk you didn't even think, crawling towards rafe and sitting on his lap. "lay down for me, pretty girl." he said lowly, pulling your dress to pool around your ankles and pulling your panties off with a hooked finger. "so gorgeous, aren't you, love?" he crooned, grabbing your tit in his large hand and slowly palming it as he poured the drink onto your stomach.

you had forgotten all about the others in the room, so incredibly needy for his touch. your hips bucked against your will as his fingers traced your navel. looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes, rafe brought his face down to your abdomen, licking up the trail of sweet liquid he had dripped onto you. his hand continued to tease your breasts, playing with your nipples. you whimpered as his warm mouth left your body, and his head perked up at the sound. "someone's desperate, huh?" he smiled, "be patient, pretty girl. m' gonna make you feel good in just a little."

your head seemed to cloud over with his words, a knot forming in your stomach. rafe left another pool of tequila right by your entrance, close enough that your pussy throbbed in anticipation. he spread your legs open a little wider, bringing his tongue back to lap up the alcohol. the tip of his tongue brushed your clit ever so slightly and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. he moved his mouth off of you again, but he seemed to be going faster now, his eyes turning dark. he poured a whole shot's worth of tequila on your pussy, right above your clit. he slurped up the drink before latching his lips onto your sensitive spot.

you let out a loud moan, grabbing his head to keep it in position. not that he needed coaxing. he was moving feverishly now, gliding his tongue up and down your entrance as his fingers moved to tease your clit. the tequila lay forgotten while he expertly ate you out, earning moans and whimpers from you. "fuck, rafe." his eyes almost rolled on hearing his name in your mouth like this, and he moved faster around your pussy.

"the tequila!" someone yelled. you could barely hear over your own noises, so close to that knot in your stomach unravelling. just as you were about to cum, rafe lifted his mouth with a pop!.

you whimpered and bucking your hips, moving your fingers down to touch yourself. rafe grabbed your arms and shoved them above your head. "come on baby. hang on a little longer." you shook your head and you could feel tears form in your eyes.

rafe grabbed the bottle of tequila with one hand and poured the rest onto you in one quick motion. it took two movements of his tongue on your pussy again to set you over the edge, climaxing in a loud scream. as you panted for breath, rafe lifted his head with that grin on his face. the room was silent before a loud roar erupted from the audience.

"gotta do that again sometime, eh pretty girl?"

HOPE YOU LOVE IT HOLLY

[beebeetheclown]

High by the Beach Pt. 2

This one shot takes place in s1e8🤭

Tags: contains smut, threesome f/m/m

Uhh.. idk enjoy? Lol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck, Ketamine? Coke? Just get me something man alright?” Kendall says to Greg as they walk down the hallway of the underground club.

You are hooking arms with Kendall as the two of you continue to follow Greg down the hall.

“Alright, just- where.. where can I get that exactly?”

Kendall stops and looks up at Greg, “Figure it out bro, I need some. Get back to me in five yeah?” He replies. Before Greg can say anything else, Kendall pats him on the arm then continues to walk down the hall with you.

The two of you planned on either getting super drunk or getting high. You both had the night off work, it was your break. You’ve both had a stressful two weeks and needed to feel “alive” again. Even though it meant that the next day the two of you would be laying in bed feeling like shit, it needed to be done. The both of you were losing your sense of thought tonight.

He kisses the side of your head and soon, the two of you are in this small little closed off dark purple lit room. There’s a couple of other people in the room as well, but he takes your hand and pulls you towards a couch that sat in the corner of the room.

“How are you feeling so far?” He asks you with a grin. You hadn’t taken any kind of drug yet but this was the last time he’d probably be able to ask you before the two of you were high out of your minds.

“Good.” You smile, “I feel good.”

He hums in satisfaction then brings his lips closer to yours, “That’s good.” He kisses your lips, “Can I just say this?”

You chuckle then kiss him again, not caring if anyone could see the two of you. “You can say anything you want Kendall.”

“I can’t wait to get high with you. Fucking you while I’m high is like- it’s fuckin’ unreal.”

You chuckle at his stupid little reply. “It’s unreal is it?” You tease.

“I just can’t find the words for it.” He laughs, “I can’t focus when you look this fucking good.”

You smile then lick his top lip. Before you can lick it again to tease him, his lips are on you. The kiss is sloppy and filled with need.

As you continue to kiss him, Stewy’s voice makes you pull away,

“Well, this isn’t something I see often.” He jokes “Kidding, I see it all the time. Exactly how high are the two of you right now?”

Kendall laughs, “We’re not high at all yet actually. Greg is supposed to come and give us something,”

“Greg? Oh I’m sorry, you hired Greg to get you something?” Stewy can’t help but laugh. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

You decide to join in on the conversation, “Well, unless you’re going to get us something, Greg is our choice. Who knows, maybe he’ll bring us back the sickest coke ever.”

Kendall chuckles and kisses the side of your head, “She’s right man. Unless you have,”

Kendall doesn’t finish his sentence as Stewy throws a small bag of white powder on the table in front of the two of you.

You both look down at it and you huff out an excited chuckle.

“Look at that, Stewy saves the day.” You say.

He smiles then comes to sit next to Kendall.

“You can have it, it’s my treat.” Stewy replies.

“You don’t want any of this?” Kendall asks as he begins to open the bag and pours it on the table.

“No, I’m good man. Just share some with your girlfriend, yeah?”

Kendall uses his credit card to create small lines on the table. Soon, you and Kendall are inhaling coke together, finally getting what you both needed tonight.

When you both finish inhaling, you both laugh together.

“Fuck I needed this.” Kendall says and kisses your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth.

“Hey come on now, let me join in on the fun yeah?” Stewy jokes.

Kendall pulls away from you to speak, “You’re gonna have to find another hot bitch cause this one’s already taken.” He laughs.

“I mean, it’ll be hard to top that. You’re expecting to have her to yourself when she’s wearing that? You expected no other man in this club to have his eyes on her?”

“Sure, they can look at her. You can look at her too I don’t give a fuck. But uh, they can’t have her.” He replies then looks at you, “Hey, we should put one of those fucking signs on you from those art galleries saying ‘please don’t touch the art work.’ That’s a damn good idea no?” He laughs.

You can’t help but laugh back, “You’re such an idiot.” You tease.

Before you can say anything else, Greg approaches the three of you and stops to stand in front of the table.

“Greg my man, you’re back!” Kendall says, “And? What do you have for me?”

Greg fidgets with his fingers then puts his hand through his hair, “Well um, I met this super cool guy and… here, just take it.”

In Greg’s hand, he holds out this little thing of Saran Wrap pulled together and sealed with a hair elastic. It was a small DIY-looking bag of coke.

You stare at the “bag” for a while, confused on what you are seeing before letting out a loud laugh. Stewy and Ken laugh along.

“W-what? It’s what you wanted, no?”

Kendall continues to laugh then speaks, “Greg, what the fuck is that?”

“It’s… it’s coke. You wanted it didn’t you?”

“Uh yeah, I wanted coke, not some hand crafted bullshit.” He chuckles, “I mean, what the hell even is that? Who- who gave you that?”

“He’s really cool, okay?” Greg replies then smiles when he remembers the guy, “He actually had this like Hawaiian shirt on, except instead of all the Hawaiian flowers, they were all pictures of cats!”

You let out another laugh and speak, “Okay so this guy is a psycho? Yeah, I’m not inhaling that. It’ll probably kill me.”

“Yeah man, how about you keep it to yourself. We’re good.” Kendall replies.

“What- hey, I went through a lot to get this okay?”

“Oh, I’m sure you did. But like, fuck off alright? Go dance or… drink, I don’t know, go have fun Greggy. And take your arts and crafts coke with you.”

Greg decides to not say anything else and just turns and walks away, now stuck with suspicious coke in his pocket.

“And that’s the guy you hired to get you drugs?” Stewy jokes before standing, “Hey well, I'm gonna go get a drink. You two are now free to do whatever your heart's desire.” He smiles then turns and walks away.

You turn and look at Kendall before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your one leg on his lap.

“I think, I either want more drugs… or I want you to fuck me.” You admit.

This makes him grin, he brings his hand to touch your leg, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“Oh I think I like both of those options. Which one do you choose? Which one do you need more huh?”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, “I think… I think I want you to fuck me Kendall. I can’t help it, you just look so hot. I’ve been wanting it ever since we got here.”

“That’s funny, cause so have I.” He replies. “You know, I was hoping to at least be able to last a few more hours before taking you back to the condo and fucking you all night, but if you’re gonna be so impatient about it, I guess I can give it to you now.”

And before you know it, you are following him through the crowd with a grin on your face and you make it to a small little bathroom. It wasn’t anything special. I mean, it was a club washroom. Of course you’d pick his bed over this, but you needed him to fuck you so badly, you didn’t care where you were.

“Fuck me over this counter Kendall.” You whine, “I need you right fucking now.” You pull your panties down so that they are at your ankles and bend over the counter.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, “God, you are so pathetic for me when even on the tiniest bit of coke.”

“Kendall, stop with your teasing and just fuck me.”

And soon, you are taking him in the club's small washroom, not caring how loud you were being since the music was loud enough to cover your pathetic noises. You cried out little praises for him, telling him how good it was and called out his name. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to finish. You just clean yourself up and take his hand and walk back out into the club. The both of you had the biggest grins on your face, satisfied at the outcome.

About 15 minutes pass and you both come across Stewy again. “Hey, I hope you didn’t get up to too much trouble.” He says over the loud music, “Look what I’ve got you two.” He says and hands over another small bag of coke.

“No fucking way!” You say in excitement, but before you can grab it, he pulls his hand away.

“Ah ah, not so fast. I have a deal for you alright?”

“Okay?” You reply curiously as Kendall hugs you from behind, listening to what Stewy has to say.

“I’ll give the two of you this coke, only if you let me join the two of you tonight.”

Kendall just nods his head and chuckles. You knew what Stewy meant but you decide to ask, “Join us?”

“Yeah sweetheart. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that time maybe four months back? When I had you on my couch… Kendall behind and,”

“Yeah, yeah I remember. How could I forget such a thing?” You reply.

“Well, how about we do something like that again? It was fun right?”

You turn your head to look at Kendall, he just shrugs before speaking his opinion, “I mean, if it’s to get more drugs why not?”

You smile, satisfied with his answer. To be honest with yourself, you were hoping that this idea would come up again. You thought about that night where you had the both of them a lot. You’d love to do it again.

You turn back to face Stewy. “Alright, you have a deal.”

Stewy grins and hands you the coke, “I’m glad sweetheart. Who knows, maybe Ken and I can make it better than last time?”

“Oh, I’d love to see what you slutty men can come up with this time.” You tease then open the small bag. You turn around so you are facing Kendall and he still has his arms wrapped around you.

Stewy watches and waits patiently as the two of you take turns rubbing coke on each other's gums.

“I think I’m going to take the two of you back to my place, it’s quieter there.”

Kendall kisses your neck, his light facial hair scratching your skin, as you turn to face Stewy, “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want. So let’s go, I’ve got my ride out waiting for us.”

“Already?” You ask, “You are so desperate for us that you get a driver that fast?”

“Well, I actually texted him about ten minutes ago, I was planning on leaving alone earlier. But I saw you two so I thought to ask if you were both slutty enough to come with me. I guess you are huh?” He teases.

You take Kendall’s hand in yours as you follow Stewy out of the club and towards the car.

When you’re climbing in the car, you are second to go in, meaning you would sit between the two of them the whole way there.

As the car starts moving, Stewy is the first to speak, “We are really doing this again?” He laughs in excitement.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” You reply then look at Kendall, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling as if I can’t believe you’re in this car with us, wanting to get fucked again even after taking me in that little washroom.”

Oh, the poor innocent driver, having to listen to this conversation.

Stewy raises his eyebrows, “You really took her in that tiny washroom?” He laughs, “That’s a little low for someone like the two of you, no? I expected you to only fuck in high rated luxurious places.” He teases, “Can’t be one of your proudest moments can it? Fucking in a club washroom. That’s honestly hilarious, cute but hilarious.”

Kendall chuckles lowly then puts his hand on your thigh. “Well, it isn’t really my style, no. But, I’d do anything for her.”

You just look over at him and smile, and Stewy just chuckles a little and speaks again,

“Awe, how romantic. You’d do anything for your girl even if that means to fuck her in a germ infested club washroom. How adorable.”

“You’d do the same Stewy,” he replies and keeps his hand on your thigh before he leans in to kiss your neck.

When Kendall has his face in the crook of your neck, Stewy brings his hand to sit on your other thigh while his foot wraps around yours to pull your legs further apart.

With the both of their hands on your thighs, with Kendall’s teeth nibbling your neck, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan.

“Look at you, already getting excited,” Stewy says into your ear, “can I kiss your girl on the cheek Kendall?”

“Go ahead, I’m sure she’d love that,” Ken replies, “wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Stewy wastes no time on kissing you cheek. He kisses it a couple of times before also moving down to your neck. You close your eyes and push your lips together, fighting another moan from falling out of your mouth.

Kendall was nibbling your neck and squeezing your thigh in his hand while Stewy just kept his hand still, licking your neck before kissing it softly.

The two of them were doing different things to you, both turning you on in different ways. Kendall turned you on by how needy and rough he was being. Stewy turned you on by being the opposite, being gentle with you.

You’re unsure what to do with your hands, you didn’t know whether to grab their hands or keep them gripping the edge of the car seat. You finally decide to put your hands on their thighs, one on Kendalls and one on Stewys.

You run your hands up and down their clothed thighs, squeezing them gently every so often.

The feeling of your hand groping Kendall’s thigh makes him groan impatiently and he brings his hand higher, close to your cunt. His pinky finger was so close to your clit and it makes you whisper out his name in a warning,

“Kendall,” you breath out but bring your one hand now up to Stewy’s hair so he isn’t missing out. “I- I can’t.”

The driver then turns up the radio a little, which makes you chuckle and feel bad for the poor man. You decide that you take your hands to remove theirs from your thighs, “Let’s behave ourselves yeah?” You say and chuckle.

They both pull their mouths away from your neck now, “Oh I’m sorry, was that too much for you to handle?” Stewy teases.

“Oh no, not at all. Don’t be too over your head, I can handle so much more. I just want to wait till we get to your house is all.”

They both let out a low chuckle.

And soon, the car comes to a stop in front of Stewy’s house. You honestly had no idea what surprises they may pull on you, but you weren’t at all nervous, you were excited out of your mind.

“Are you excited baby?” Kendall asks with a grin.

“Yes.” You reply softly. He lets out a little laugh then picks you up and carries you towards Stewy's front door.

When the three of you are finally inside, you are still in Kendall’s arms and you don’t say anything but smile, waiting to see what happens next.

Stewy is the first to speak when the door closes, “Well, I can think of a few ideas for what happens next. Kendall, will you set her on the couch, I want to share my ideas… but would hate to ruin the surprise.” He says as he looks over at you.

Kendall just grins over at him then carries you over to the couch and sets you down gently. “Behave yourself.” He teasingly whispers before walking over to speak to his best friend.

You can’t help but giggle quietly as the two of them speak quietly together. You just thought it was so silly how you were sitting on the couch, watching your boyfriend and his best friend talk about how they were both going to take you.

When they finish, Stewy looks over at you, “What are you being all giggly about?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe how cute, I think she’s excited for us again Ken, just like last time.”

Kendall chuckles, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

The two walk over to you and look down at you sitting on the couch.

“Do you want to know the idea I’ve shared with your boyfriend?” You nod your head, waiting for him to continue. “Since Kendall is still not wanting me to fuck you properly because he doesn’t like to share, we each get three minutes to taste you, and whoever makes you finish first… wins.”

You can’t help but laugh “What is this some sort of fucked up challenge for the two of you?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Stewy replies, “So, unless you have something better in mind, I’d like to get this little game started.”

“Is that something you're up for baby?” Kendall asks you. Before answering you stand up to remove your panties so you are now only left with your top and skirt on.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

“Want to flip a coin on who gets to go first?” Stewy suggests. Kendall can’t help but laugh a little.

“You want to flip a coin on who gets to eat her out first? This is ridiculous.” He laughs. “But alright sure, why not?”

“Heads or tails pretty boy?”

“Heads.”

Stewy flips the coin up with his thumb before catching it in his one hand and placing it on the back of his other hand. When he reveals it, it’s on tails.

“Damn, tough luck my man. Looks like I get her first.”

You chuckle, “I have to say, this is probably the weirdest and kinkiest thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? I’m honestly shocked that this is your kinkest.” Stewy teases while looking at the two of you, “But casual sex is boring. We all agree, right?”

“Not all the time it’s not, no.” You reply, “But I can agree that stuff like this is more fun.”

“Good, because what I want now is for you to sit between Kendall’s thighs while I taste you.”

You and Kendall smile at each other before doing what Stewy assigned you to do. You sit in front of Kendall on the couch so your back is against his chest, your legs are spread open for his best friend who’s on his knees in front of you.

The difference between Kendall and Stewy wasn’t a lot. During sex, they both liked to pleasure their woman, but Stewy was more teasing than Kendall was; Stewy was more gentle. Kendall would tease you often, but he wouldn’t be able to tease you for long before he needed you himself. He also always tended to be more rough with you rather than gentle, only on special occasions would he make love to you rather than fuck you and be gentle and slow, needing to take his time with you.

“Start the clock.” Stewy jokes. Well, you thought he was joking, but Kendall and Stewy deadass had one of their phones open on the timer app, setting it at three minutes.

When Kendall starts the timer, his best friend immediately begins to kiss your inner thigh. He didn’t want to just fuck you with his tongue just like that, he needed to warm you up first, needed to get you more turned on.

As he continues to kiss and nibble your thigh, getting closer and closer to your cunt, you lean your head back so it’s on Kendall's shoulder. Kendall takes his hands and lightly plays with your breasts through your shirt.

“You better not cum for him.” He whispers in your ear, “You better be good and not let yourself come undone on my best friend's face.” He was challenging you. You can’t help but close your eyes and let out a whimper as you take one of your hands to set it on the back of Kendall’s head.

“What if I want to?” You tease.

Stewy then brings his lips to your clit and kisses you softly.

“Don’t you dare.” Kendall growls.

Stewy now begins to now go a little faster since he was under a time limit. He begins to add his tongue in the mix.

You gasp and then let out a shaky, breathless moan.

“Oh, Kendall, his mouth feels so good on me.” You breathe out, grinding your hips into Stewy’s mouth. It was true, he worked you well with his tongue, but you also loved to tease your boyfriend and make him jealous.

“Yeah?” He questions, squeezing your breasts harder now, “You think so?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Stewy grabs your ankles and puts your legs over his shoulders and fucks you with his tongue, leaving kisses on you over and over before going back to using his tongue, his soft facial hair tickling your inner thighs.

As you continue to grind your hips back and forth, your ass would brush against Kendall’s clothed crotch. You could feel how hard he was getting. You moan out before taking your hand off of the back of his head to bring it to slide in his pants. As soon as he realises what you're trying to do, he lets out a groan and undoes his pants to make it easier for you.

You spit on your hand then bring it back down to wrap it around his half-hard member and begin to stroke him. He lets out another sound and soon, he is fully hard in your hand.

Listening to Kendall’s sounds and having Stewy’s tongue fuck you, you can’t help but let out a loud moan.You bring your free hand to go through Stewy’s hair. This was most definitely the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Don’t you dare cum baby. I mean it.” Kendall grunts out.

“Try and stop me then.” You reply and let out another whimper.

You look down at the phone screen beside you; Stewy still has a minute and twenty seconds left. You honestly didn’t know if you could last that much longer. You arch your back and continue to stroke Kendall and tighten your grip on Stewy’s hair.

When Stewy brings his lips to your clit and nibbles down lightly, you can’t hold back and you are so close to the edge.

“I’m right there Ken. Fuck I’m so close baby.”

Stewy chuckles in satisfaction and keeps on going, his chuckle vibrates through you.

“No, don’t you even think about it. Don’t you,”

With the clock now at forty seconds left, you cry out a pathetic noise as your second orgasm of the night hits you. You remove your hand from Kendall’s cock to let it join your other hand in Stewy’s hair and tug lightly as you bring his face closer to you.

He licks you clean before pulling his face away. He has a satisfied grin on his face. “Look at that, I still have about thirty seconds to spare.”

You catch your breath and grin up at him before turning your body to face Kendall. He is putting his cock back in his pants even though he was still so painfully hard for you. “I told you I didn’t want you to cum for him. Get up.” He orders, “It’s my fucking turn with you.”

When you stand up, Kendall also stands before looking at Stewy, waiting for him to sit down on the couch with you. Stewy can’t help but chuckle,

“Damn Ken, I just gave your girl an orgasm and you’re not even going to let her catch her breath?” He jokes.

“No, she doesn’t deserve to get a break.” He replies and looks over at you, “Sit down, spread your legs.”

You look over at Stewy and he just looks at you before shrugging with a smile and takes Kendall’s place, sitting down so he can be behind you.

Kendall doesn’t waste another second. As soon as you’re sitting down, he pulls your legs apart and his mouth is on your cunt immediately.

“God, your boyfriend is so impatient when he’s jealous.” Stewy says, but he doesn’t even bother to restart the timer. He just wanted you to enjoy your boyfriend’s mouth, no matter how long you needed it for.

Kendall didn’t even care about this “challenge” anymore. All he cared about was getting you to cum quicker for him. He wanted to prove to you that he was the best one for you. That he could fuck you best, whether if it was with his tongue, fingers or his cock. He needed you to know that nobody else could do it like him. He needed to be the best… just like he always did for everything.

He fucks you with his tongue harder than his best friend did. He had eaten you out many times so he knew exactly how you liked it.

You begin to moan out, you were much more sensitive now since you came literally thirty seconds ago. You begin to bring your one hand down to Stewy’s crotch, as you wanted to do the same with him since it was only fair, but he pulls your hand away,

“No, no sweetheart. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on Kendall.” He says in your ear, “Focus on his mouth on you. How does it feel?”

“Good. It feels… good.” You whimper out.

“Yeah? Do you like when Ken eats your pussy like this?”

“Fuck… yes.” You bring your head down to look at Kendall’s face in between your thighs.

“What else do you like Kendall to do to you huh?”

“I- I like it when he… when he fucks me with his fingers.” You whisper.

“Don’t tell me that, tell him.”

You can’t help but whimper before you speak again, “I like it when you use your fingers on my Kendall.” Hearing you say this makes him groan into your pussy. “And I love it when you… fuck me Kendall. No one can do it like you can.”

“There you go. Keep telling him that, let him know that you mean it sweetheart.”

“Only you know how to fuck me the way I want it Kendall, only you.”

Kendall moans into you.

“I’m all yours Kendall, all fucking yours.” This is the last thing you say before you are cumming again, for a third time. Kendall doesn’t remove his mouth from you until you are fully over your orgasm. He kisses your clit softly a couple of more times before standing back up.

“I think that was better than last time.” Kendall says as he grins in satisfaction.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” His best friend replies. “How do you feel sweetheart?”

You smile, “Good. I feel good.”

[pawnshopbleus]

Cola

robin buckley x fem!reader

summary - Inspired by the iconic lyric: “My pussy taste like Pepsi cola.” 

warnings - oral sex (f!receiving), lesbians, tbh idk what this is 

words - 1.2k 

THE Hawkins movie theater had just received a new slushy flavor. Instead of the typical cherry and raspberry, they added another classic: Pepsi.

“Please can we go?” you begged your girlfriend the day she came over.

“You want to go to the movie theater just to get a slushy?” Robin raised a brow.

You jumped up from the couch in your living room, “Yes! You finally got it.”

That’s the two of you found yourselves in the movie theater, waiting in line for the new slushy flavor. You hung off of Robin’s arm and gazed up at her with a huge smile.

“I wonder what It will taste like?” you wondered. Maybe it would taste like coke instead of Pepsi. Maybe it would taste like dirty ice water. Even if it had the signature Pepsi name on it you still had to make sure it would taste as such.

Robin chuckled and rolled her eyes. She knew you were just testing her. If you two weren’t in public then she would have leaned down and kissed your lips until they fell off. You were just too cute. The two of you got to the counter and the person working at the front counted and asked what the two of you would like.

Robin ordered for the two of you, “Can I just get one Pepsi slushy and one cherry slushy, please and thank you.”

The two of you got your slushies and walked off to the side. You happily sucked on your slushy and sighed. It was just as good as the normal soda. “God, I love capitalism.”

Robin choked on her cherry slushy, “Babe, I don’t think you’re supposed to say that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she put her hand over your shoulder and lead you to the movie auditoriums. Robin wasn’t going to come to the movie theater just to get a slushy. It would go against her morals so you two were going to watch Pretty in Pink for the third time this month. Before the two of you made it to the auditorium she leaned down close to your ear and whispered, “I hope you enjoy the movie because when we get home, I want to find out just how good that Pepsi tastes.”

                           ●・○・●・○・●

The movie was good. Just like the first two times you’d seen it. Robin had gotten you all worked up during the movie. She put her hand on your upper thigh, letting it glide from your knee to your upper thigh. She would leave a few kisses on your neck here and there. Luckily, the two of you were the only ones in the theater so it wasn’t like you were going to get caught.

Now you were home. Your parents were asleep in their room. Your parents liked your ‘best friend,’ Robin. Your parents described her as a kind, sweet, and caring young lady. So, they didn’t mind whenever Robin ‘slept over.’ To be honest, when she came over the two of you did get much sleep.

You put your pointer finger over your mouth and looked at Robin. You mouthed, “My parents are asleep,” and pointed at their room. Robin winked and smiled. You grabbed Robin’s arm and pulled her into your room.

“Thank you for today,” you hugged Robin. She hugged you back and slid her hands up and down your back as the two of you swayed from side to side.

“Stop swaying before you made me sleepy,” you grumbled.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked gazing at your lips.

You smirked and in a low whisper, you said, “Yes,” before you pressed your lips onto hers.

The kiss wasn’t like the normal ones the two of you shared. It was slow and sweet and sensual. There was less tongue, less teeth classing, and less neediness. The two of you felt less rushed to get through this. You just wanted to feel her and she just wanted to feel you.

Robin broke the kiss and put her forehead on yours, “Can I take this off?” she motioned to your clothes.

“Yes.”

Robin made quick work of your clothes and took them off piece by piece. She enjoyed taking your clothes off. It was as if she was unwrapping her very own birthday present.

“Lay on the bed for me,” she said as she took her jean jacket off and threw it in the corner of your room. She rolled up the sleeves of her green long-sleeve shirt and kneeled in front of you. Robin ran her hands up the expanse of your legs and set them on the top of your thigh.

“Look at how pretty you look for me,” she smirked.

“Only for you,” you said as you looked down at your girlfriend.

She spread your legs apart. She began kissing your thigh, trailing a path up to the place where you needed her most. Then she removed herself from between your legs and pushed herself up. She took her index and pointer finger and ran it across your bottom lip.

“Open.”

You immediately followed her orders and opened your mouth. You took her fingers into her mouth and swirled your tongue around them. She took her fingers out of your mouth and smiled. She trailed her fingers down your neck, then your sternum, your stomach, and then your left thigh. She kneeled between your legs again and ran a finger through your pussy lips. She spread your arousal over your clit and smiled at the way you reacted.

“You like that, huh?” you nodded and she chuckled and did it again.

She spread your thighs a bit further. And kissed along your folds. She liked teasing you, getting you worked up, hot, and bothered. She finally did what you needed her to do. She attached her mouth to your clit. Not too hard yet not too soft. She teased your entrance with her fingers then she slowly eased them into you.

“Don’t stop, please,” you pleaded. You hated begging. You thought it was pathetic but in times like this, you didn’t care.

You could feel Robin smirk into your pussy. She thrust her fingers gently in and out of you. She picked up the pace a bit and re-attached her mouth to your throbbing clit. You were close, and Robin could feel it.

“Are you close?” she asked, looking at you through her eyebrows.

You nodded. Robin took her fingers out of you and rubbed them in circles around your clit while her tongue teased your entrance.

You could feel the tingling sensation, build up in your stomach. The control you once had was now gone and you began shaking with ecstasy. You came all over your girlfriend's face.

You took a few seconds to collect yourself, your chest going up and down with every breath.

She went to the bathroom that was built into your room and grabbed a towel from the towel rack, ran it under the tap, and returned back to you.

You were still laying on your bed when Robin came back. She cleaned you up and put the towel into the dirty clothes hamper. She slid into bed with you, your naked body wrapped around her clothed one.

“That was nice,” you said as you yawned.

Robin smiled and kissed your nose, “I’m glad my little Pepsi queen.”

[minimoefoe]

Rewatch Thoughts: 73 Yards

Millie has some great moments through this series so far acting-wise but she also sometimes misses so bad and kinda makes me cringe. The ‘I think I broke his heart’ moment is so bad

What hand movements is the woman even doing btw are we supposed to know bc I don’t

That woman appearing creeps me out so much like this is kinda the scariest Doctor Who episode of all time

I find it interesting that Ruby is seeing Susan and recognizing her but the Doctor hasn’t seen her yet (or at least not enough times to recognize her, he saw her in Boom, right?) 

So unless there’s some reveal that she’s been scheming all along, Susan is actually a different person in every ep, right? Like. She doesn’t have memory of being the other ppl. Unless she is pretending every time and is purposely following Ruby and the Doctor around. I think that would be more cool but there’s not really vibes that that’s the case. Though I guess that would be the point like she cant make it obvious that she’s purposely following them around. But viewer-wise, giving us a hint that that’s the case would be good. I feel like it’s not though

I'm interested to see what's up with Susan but I kinda don't have any theories still lmao. Looking forward to just seeing what happens

That woman defo made Ruby pay extra bc she was feeling mean right like there’s no way a coke from that pub costs a fiver

Why didn’t Ruby mention to that guy that like an hour ago Susan went up to the woman watching her and literally ran away in fear like. It feels like relevant info before you send someone to do that exact same thing

The way these ppl turn it all into a big prank is really funny (but also if I was Ruby I woulda starterd sobbing) but also so dumb low-key bc like. Ruby is clearly genuinely scared, there actually IS a woman following her, their friend actually DID just run when that isn’t something he usually does. Like. You’re pranking this teen as if there's not genuinely a woman stood on the street like HELLO. It’s obvs a thing they do with other ppl but. This is very clearly not like all those times idk

I kinda wish the vibe stayed like it was in that pub and they were actually being fr bc it starts out so strong

Carla going up to that woman is so dumb I fear like, you can say ‘they were Welsh ppl’ (even tho one of them wasn't even Welsh) as a reason to blow off what happened but like. You’re dumb. Ruby has been travelling with the Doctor for how long now? Over six months. Take shit more seriously bro

Ruby being left without Carla is really good but like. It just shouldn’t really have happened should it. Ruby shoulda put her foot down and been like no mum seriously that man left and wouldn’t come back and I don’t want that to be you

She looks like a 19yo with a shit hair cut and some glasses, that’s not a 30, 40, however old woman sorry !! She looks like a 19yos tryna cosplay as a grown woman. Idk HOW they coulda made her look believably older but it doesn’t work for me as is

The cut to her holding the coats lmao

Roger kinda reminds me of Daniel Sharman lookswise aka he’s fit

So. is Marti supposed to be pretty young and Ruby in her 30/40s bc on first watch I thought they were both basically the same age

I watched the intention of noticing the strange SA lines but I fully missed them icl. Which is not a good thing lmao I feel like I shouldn't be able to miss something that insane bc I didn't pay attention for 30 seconds yknow

The strange political turn this ep takes is SO strange idk. I think it’s pretty interesting. Roger has good villain vibes and Ruby defeating him by getting the woman to speak to him is really cool but I feel like it need more time to breathe??? It feels like it’s over before it’s even started idrk. I don’t typically notice strange pacing in eps like other ppl do but in this one it’s defo off

There’s something about the TARDIS just being left to gather dust etc that makes me so sad

Idk if I’m too stupid for eps like these, if they’re just not massively my vibe or if it was done not that well but this ep is.. Not my fave. Still a 3.5/5 bc individual aspects of it are great and the vibe of a lot of it is cool but just all together I’m like yeah I’m not sure and I kidna don’t care enough to bang on and on about what it all means like. OKAY. Next episode plz

[conkreetmonkey]

How does Sakurai keep aging backwards??

Watching the latest Masahiro Sakurai YouTube video and

how does this man keep aging backwards. He looks significantly younger now than he did when I was watching his Smash Ultimate reveal videos a few years ago. I'm actually comparing videos now and it's not just me misremembering what he looked like back then, he legitimately looked a decade older in his Smash for 3DS/Wii U videos compared to today. How does he do it?

Now, these example images are far from perfect, I wasn't planning on making this post so this is kind of a quickie. Still, am I crazy, or does Sakurai look far younger today than he did 4 years ago? (I'm aware the quality of the modern photo is far better than the first, but the hat's not on me there; the Smash Bros videos just had less resolution than is seen now on Sakurai's personal YT channel. Weird.)

I've noticed a few distinct ways in which he looks significantly better now:

His skin looks noticeably more youthful. His laugh lines seem to have all but vanished, and his face appears to have significantly more healthy colour to it. The difference appears slight in this photo comparison, but in some older videos from the 3DS/Wii U era it's much clearer. He looks significantly less pale now, and any lines that were present on his face have seemingly disappeared.

This one is more obvious: his eyebags are gone! He's clearly sleeping far better now. The difference is night and day.

Again, not too noticeable from the pictures given, but Sakurai's hair seems to be smoother, glossier and darker than it used to be. Perhaps he's dyed it or is using different products now, but it looks far healthier and youthful now, and that's not even to say it looked bad before. He's always had great hair (and has never been bad-looking in any field), but it's really shining nowadays.

idk why I'm even making this post. In all likelihood, he's just far less stressed nowadays without Smash Ultimate and Covid to worry about. Still, I think it was worth pointing out. Masahiro Sakurai looks phenomenal. Again, not to imply he's ever looked bad. He's always been, in my opinion at least, quite an attractive man. I also understand that this post may come across as creepy or obsessed, but I haven't watched any Sakurai content since high school, in which my friend group was heavily Smash-oriented and we kept up with the development and new character additions like other men do sports. In an unorthodox way, Masahiro Sakurai was a huge part of my teenage years. I idolized him back then, and I'd still consider him a man worth looking up to; his passion for his craft is damn near unmatched. If every big name gave developer cared as much about the art they were creating as Sakurai, the entire gaming scene would be so, so much better.

This is an appreciation post, I suppose, as well as just me being happy a guy I followed closely a few years ago now seems to be doing better than ever. I get that he was and still is a multimillionaire, but back in the day he was working himself to the bone. I mean, passing out at work, winding up in the hospital, and then going right back to work with a IV drip in his arm?? He's clearly worked extremely, unhealthily hard to gain his wealth. I'm glad he's visibly less stressed out nowadays, and austounded at how much better he looks. There's graceful aging, and then there's Masahiro Sakurai. He's 52, and works like a coked-out mule with a sick kid at home and a debt to the mob, yet despite all this I wouldn't think he's a day over 30. You fucking go, Sakurai.

[zumpietoo]

Ahhhh.....so you DID stalk my blog and noooppe. I hate diet coke, anyway and IDK what "diet thunder" even is...

Remember when no, that neverrr happened? Cuz

A) I make my own, from scratch (maybe that's what she means?) orrr it's from the overpriced gourmet chain (New Seasons) and either cherry or cranberry. Or sometimes Trader Joe's.

I'm actually reallyyyyy fussy about my lemonade, which makes this extra hilarious and legit offends me.

B) As I've stated menny times, I take the bus because I don't drive. Never learned, true New Yorker, might have to soon, buuut....also, way to out yourself further as flyoverstan faux bourgeois trash, endorsing the car culture and all the global warming it brings with it.

No bitch, I got a nearly paid off house

do you?

So endorsing public transportation iz kewl when you like it? Also, interestingly, it appears Atlanta has a decent system, after all.....and trains are the least of it....you should use the entire thing. Think of the planet instead of your faux suburban aspirations, Silly...

IDK even what that IS----however, I will freely admit to really liking a line of their hair products, which I find yield better results than $35 a bottle Olaplex!

Additionally, even if true (no and again)----I do love how she looks down on people for not having $$$ and the almighty dollar continues to be how she grades peeps (when she's able to twist it that way, while ignoring ninety billion facts), because that's really disgusting. And puts her on the same level as a typical Rethuglican (including being a Evvoll Poor, herself, while pretending otherwise)

What happened to begging me to unblock your ass? Also, again, for "no time", you certainly devoted a shit ton of it to me last nite over my supposed choices of off brand beverages....(which, again, while untrue, how would that possibly render myself or anybody else "inferior"? Seriously, your bourgeois view are really gross)

[green-lilac-in-a-jar]

my very short diary on my very long flight yesterday

19:59

THIS GUY IN THE AIRPORT JUST WALKED BY ME LISTENING TO THE PHONE ALARM RINGTONE LIKE I SAW HIS PHONE IT WAS ON SPOTIFY WHO DOES THIS

21:16

I didn’t know flight attendants were so judgey. Like I was ordering a Diet Coke and he said “we also have Coke Zero if you’d like” and I know nothing about coke (I only ordered it because I’d been copying the orders of the lady next to me and didn’t want her to get weirded out) so I was like “sure, Coke Zero” and this guy, the same one that had offered the drink to me, look slightly disgusted and went “to each there own taste I suppose” before handing me the can. Do they taste that different? Idk it was fine to me but really TT

22:39

Because I didn’t want to turn on my own movie (I don't have headphones) I ended up watching stuff over other people’s shoulders and half the time it was Rick and Mordy but I started wanting something with subtitles so I actually knew what was going on. I don’t know what it was about but I think it was a Chinese movie about these two girls who were dancers and they practiced together and their coach kept having to push them together cause they were two far apart. It’s like super pretty with a lot of white and blue tones. I don’t know what it was call but I remember besides that scene there was one where girl A showed girl B a clock and girl B was like there’s no second hand and then girl A closed her eyes and girl a just like stared at her and then in another scene it was one of the girl’s birthday’s and they were playing with sparklers. Also it was definitely gay because later they were laying in a bed together and girl A was like there’s no one in the world like you. Anyway girl A’s name started with Wang I think but I didn’t catch the rest because of my crappy eyesight. Maybe I’ll fine it and watch it one day… 

22:40

OMG YES ITS GAY THEY JUST KISSED HOLY SHIT aww and they’re holding hands under their desk this is so cute (definitely angsty too, I can tell) I have to find this!

22:46

Ok so I got this picture but it’s too far TT

22:51

OMG I FOUND IT ITS CALL THE FIRST GIRL I LOVED I HAVE TO WATCH THAT

23:00

Omg the row right next to me keeps opening their window and it’s like bruh stop it’s lights out time peps are trying to sleep

23:18

Another turbulence TT there’s already been like five

23:22

OMFG SOMEONE JUST STARTED WATCHING LALA LAND I STILL CANT GET OVER THAT MOVIE WHY DID THEY DANCE ON TOP OF THE CARS AND THERE’S JUST SOME DRUM PLAYERS IN THE BACK OF A TRUCK LIKE WHAT WHY IS NO ONE BOTHERED BY PEOPLE BIKING ON TOP OF THEIR CARS LIKE NO WONDER THE TRAFIC ISNT MOVING

23:50

I finally finished the 93K fic I’ve been reading for the past like six hours because omg that shit was long

23:51

Oh it’s that’s scene in lala land with the yellow dress on the bench literally all I can think of tho is twice’s what is love TT

23:58

Apparently my sister is best friends with the German kids that are sitting next to her cuz they gave her their ice cream (that they didn’t want) which she then gave to me (cuz she didn’t want it either)

02:35

I just woke up and istg my back and neck are going to hate me because so can just feel that I somehow slept the wrong way. I hate sleeping on planes. Also my music keeps pausing. I actually hate this.

05:03

This guy just complemented my hair when I was getting off the plane! He said it was cool!

05:20

In line for customs a five year old just asked me if I was a boy or a girl and after 10 hours of flight attendants calling me “miss” I have to say this made me feel like a god

[gegewrites]

Fezco - worried sick

Content warning- drug use and near overdose, LOML Faye

Published- 1-23-22

Words-2570

Barely edited btw

This was gonna be a serious type angst but then Faye for involved and idk what happened

Rues narration-

Okay, so maybe things weren't as good as I thought they were. Ya know when I was getting fucked up like really fucked Up I thought I could never be hurt by these amazing chemicals. Why would I get hurt by something that's makes me feel good? Well my overdose showed that, rehab taught me that, but that doesn't matter.

(y/n) came over to my place after work to hang, all she wanted to do was smoke and she told my mom that, now my mom was only against ME doing drugs, so she said yes, just keep the window open and use an ashtray, obviously she did she has manners.

But as the night grew in and the more bored I grew, I pulled out my stuff. Some left over coke from a party and some pills, I forgot and still don't know what they are.

Your pov-

"Aren't you supposed to be staying clean?" I asked as rue snorted the thin line of white powder.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" She asked putting her head back and sniffling, she handed me the rolled bill.

"Can't compare the two." I laughed and leaning down, placing my bill in my nose and inhaling deep as the power got sucked through the paper and into my nose. I put the bill down and threw my head back and sniffled,"ash sells the best  coke."

"I didn't get this from ash I for it from this guy as I was walking through the house at that party last week.

"Probably got it from Ash then." I shrugged falling down onto my back,"they run the deals at party's."

"You're right." I felt the bed bounce as she fell onto her back, I heard her play with something plastic, I heard the click of a seal and then plastic hit my chest,"even with NA and fez not sellin to you, you still finding pills."

"It's pretty easy." She laughed.

"What are they?" I held the bag up over my face trying to see what type of pills they were, I haven't seen fez or ash sort any like these, they looked like oxy, round and white but had some red in them.

"Just take them, they make you feel great." She said.

"Aight."

Rues pov-

10 minutes have passed since we took the pills, I had no clue what they were but they made me feel good, maybe they were fet? Had a familiar feeling but could've been something like oxy, I didn't really care, I got them for free that's all tht maters.

"How you feeling?" I looked over at (y/n) who was laying next to me on her phone.

"Interesting." She muttered as she texted someone and then went on insta.

"Who ya textin?" I asked.

"Who do you think?" She smiled looking at me.

"Fez." She nodded,"ew."

"Fuck you." She laughed and sat up,"going to the bathroom." 

"Aaallright." She stood up with a wobble  and tossed her phone onto the bed and walked out. Her phone Vibrated right as she left, her screen turning on. I saw a picture of her fez and a text notification. I picked out her phone and laid on my side and pressed on the texts expanding it.

The plug*

just txt me

The plug*

I can pick u up whenever, Idc abt leaving the shop

The plug*

Yo u know u can tell me to come get u whnvr , just stay safe bby <3

What? "Just stay safe" did she not feel safe she seemed like she was chill. I put her phone down and rolled onto my back when I heard a thud from the bathroom. I basically flew out of bed even though my body felt a thousand pounds.

When I got out of the bedroom I walked as calm as possible and acted as sober as possible.

"(y/n) ?" I knocked on the door lightly. My turned out of the kitchen and stood at the beginning of the hall.

"She okay?" She asked.

"I think so, she said she was just gonna use the bathroom but earlier she said she's been having some dizzy spells." Dizzy spells?! That's doesn't help. My mom didn't seem to notice how high I was I must've been keeping the act up pretty good.

"Okay... Um she needs anything just ask, okay?" I nodded and she walked back into the kitchen. I turned the door knob and pushed the door open, i opened it and found her passed out leaning against the wall but also laying. I close the door quickly, she must've been standing and leaned on the wall and slid down it when she passed out. I got onto my knees and moved her so she head sitting against the wall a bit straighter and facing me.

"(y/n)?" I shook her face, holding her up by her shoulder,"(y/n)? Waakey wakey." She didn't respond. I moved her so she was leaning in the corner or the wall and bathtub. I stood up and closed the door behind me and quickly went to my room and grabbed her phone and went back into the bathroom.

"Okay, okay." I opened her phone and held down onto one of fezs texts and started typing.

Hey fez it's rue, (y/n) is passed out in my bathroom, can you come get her? Okay thanks.

That should do. I sent it and leaned against the cabinet and looked at her and her phone waiting for a text back.

Fezcos pov-

"12 dollas kid." Kid handed me the exact money and I put it into the register as he left. I closed it and grabbed my phone from my pocket, out of the corner of my eye I saw Faye stand up from the cooler she was on.

"Faye sit down." I got a Text back from my girl, about time. She's at rues, and I can't help but he worried that somethings gon happened, hoping I'm not jinxing myself by thinking something is gonna happen but you never know. (y/n) wasn't the type of person to pop pills like rue. she just smoked and snorted lines at parties, pills...rarely.

*my girl<3

Hey fez it's rue, (y/n) is passed out in my bathroom, can you come get her? Okay thanks.

I quickly texted back

Jesus fuck rue.

I got off of the counter and quickly opened the door to the stocking area that Ashtray was in.

"Yo I gotta go get (y/n) from rues, something happened, you got the place?" I asked him.

"Ya I got it." I walked away hearing the door close behind me. I unlocked and called (y/n).

"Pick up rue." I unlocked the car and got in changing hands with my phone as I started the car,"fuck cmon rue." Voicemail, I called again as I pulled out of the lot and took a left.

"Fez? Oh shit dude." She hissed.

"Rue the fuck did you give her?!" I asked putting my phone on speaker and putting it on on the dash.

"Some coke and pills." Her tone was hushed, she was hiding from her mom.

"What pills rue?!"  I rolled at the stop before turning left,"rue if you don't tell me exactly what to you gave her."

"We did some coke I got at the party last week, and some pills, I have no clue what they are."

"Color and Shape rue, Jesus Christ. How dumb are you?!"

"White and red, round, Jesus look just Calm the fuck down fez, just get here quick."

“How the fuck am supposed to calm the fuck down rue?!”

“Jesus Christ.” She hung up the phone, I slammed my hands into the wheel.

In 20 minutes o made it to Rues place.

I hopped out of my car, opening up the door to the backseats and walked to the front door. I knocked on it and took a step back not knowing of rue or her sister or Ms.Bennet. A few seconds later the door opened to a little girl who looked like rue.

"Rue or (y/n)  here?" I asked and she nodded, she had a face of worry tht she was trying to hide, honestly it hurt to see,"I'm Fez, she tell you I was comin?"

"Ya, (y/n) is in the bathroom." She stepped away and I walked in as she closed the door behind me.

"Yo rue." I called out.

"Bathroom!" I heard the respond. I walked to where I heard her voice it was past the kitchen and the first door to my right.

I looked in and saw (y/n) in Ms.Bennets arms, a cloth on her head, she was knocked the fuck out. It was scary seeing her like that, possible overdose and she just been sitting on the floor for twenty minutes as her clock counts down. In my business, you stay prepared for anything, overdosing is pretty fuckin easy.

"You're her boyfriend?"

"Yes Ma'am." I nodded,"she pass out?"

"Dizzy spell but she won't wake up." Rue said, she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"Aight, this happens." I lied," Don't know why though." I got down onto one knee,"rue go get her bags and put them in my car will you?"

"Okay." With that she left.

"I'm just gon- gon take her." I reached out of (y/n) and Ms.Bennet handed me to her taking the cloth off her head.

"Ya ya." She nodded, I picked her up as I stood, holding her in my arms and on my shoulder much like a parent does with a child who fell asleep in the car. I walked out of the bathroom holding her close to me, praying to feel her breathing on my neck, which I did, but little. I gave her sister a nod as I walked out of the front door.

"Thank you, sorry this happened." I looked back at her mom. I felt fuckin bad, rues sister is probably fucked up from rues overdose and then seeing your sisters friend passed out in the bathroom has got to remind you of that a bit.

"It's alright, as long as she safe." She gave me a smile. I walked to my car and rue was leaning on the front door.

"Fez." She whispered.

"Yo fuck you rue." I responded in a hushed tone as I laid (y/n) in the back seat,  crawling over her a bit to put her head on her bag so she was propped up.

"How the hell was I supposed to know This gonna happen?!" She responded in a hushed tone as I closed the back door, she room a step back.

"You gave her random pills n' coke,  you should know what could happen rue, mostly with yo track record." I opened my front door and she handed me (y/n)s phone,"we didn't sell or give our coke or pills that night jus you know. Only weed." I closed the door. She shook her head and walked back to the door and watched me reverse out of her driveway.

"Gon get you home baby, you'll be okay." I looked at her in the rear view mirror,"Gon be okay."

Home-

I kicked the door closed behind me with my foot and walked right over to the lounge room.

I was getting scared, 50 minutes and she still isn't waking up. I laid her down gently on the couch, propping her up with the pillows.

"You're okay." I reassured her and kissed her forehead, it was really onto to reassure me, I'm freaking the fuck out internationally right now.

Luckily We always have Narcan around, i carry it on me to parties, I make sure ash Carries it on him I usually have some in my car but I didn't this time.

Quickly walking out of the lounge and to the bathroom I grabbed the bottle of nasal spray from the drawer closests to the door and made my way out.

"Heey." I heard Faye slur from the bathroom.

"Faye I swear to God." I walked back into the bathroom and peaked into the tub,"get yo doped out ass outta the fuckin tub."

"You're no fun." She sighed.

"Prolly cause the love my life is passed out on my couch." I gave her my hand and she took it standing up and getting out to the tub.

"What?" Her voice was slurred as I walked out the bathroom, she wasn't my damn problem right now.

"Hol' up." I turned around,"when the fuck did you even get here?"

"Uber." She shrugged her shoulders,"it's boring at the shop, there's nothing to do, I can't do anything."

"Then read a book, I don't know what you want from me. im only keeping you because your pimp boyfriend asked me to."

I walked away back into the living room. I saw (y/n) hair on the back kf the couch, she was sitting up but laying her head on the back.

"Baby?" I walked over quickly, and around the couch. I sat down and met her eyes,"you okay?"

"When did I get here?" She asked In a whisper, her eyes were red.

"I got you from rues like 30 minutes ago. You passed out in her bathroom." I put the narcan on the table.

"Narcan?" I nodded leaning on the couch, she moved, sitting crisscross facing me, leaning her head on the back of the couch.

"Mhm. Thought you OD in whatever rue gave you."

Your pov-

"Mhm. Thought you OD on whatever rue gave you." He said,"it's terrifying (y/n), seeing you, laying in her Ma's arms like that, seeing her sisters face when she opened the door. I was fuckin worried you weren't gon wake up."

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Not your fault baby, this on Rue.." he looked over at me,”never, never do that again, don’t take anything if it’s not givin to you by me. Understood?” I nodded and his phone started ringing in his pocket. He sat up a bit and grabbed it out and answered,"wassup Ash? She got a Uber outta there, she here,

found her in the bathtub....calm down lil Man shes awake, she talkin, she breathin....I'll be down there in a few, close the place up. It's fine, a few hours early ain't gon end the world trust me."

"You left ash at the shop?" He nodded hanging up the phone.

"Told him I had to go get you. Wanna ride with me to get him?"he stood up.

"You carrying me?"' He nodded.

"I had to to get you outta rues bathroom, and to get you outta the car and onto here. Wanna ride or you wanna rest?"

"I feel like if I fall alseep I'm not going to wake up." He reached his hand out and I took it, he pulled me closer to him and picked me up, o wrapped my legs lazily around jis and waist and my arms around his neck. His hands sat on my ass as he walked out if the living room.

"Faye, sit on the couch and don't leave, I'll be back in 20."

"Fine." I saw her walk into the lounge room as fez walked to the door,”don’t fuck on the way there.”

“Jesus Faye.”

[clonewarslover55]

I totally forgot to send this in but I saw your post again and it reminded me! I'd love to see Vau around Mird's pups if they had a litter and that made me think about seeing Vau around babies. Like maybe someone is like, oh kad threw up on himself and Vau's not busy so he's like oh I got it. Just calmly washes him off and changes his clothes no big deal and everyone else is like omg wtf?? How do you know how to do that??

Walon Vau taking care of Kad

Omg yes! I loved this so much I decided to do a drabble on it.

Notes: If you haven’t read Memories then the ending of this won’t make much sense….

Warnings: baby vomit, Walon Vau doesn’t sleep because *Trauma*, I have never had a child nor dealt with one of this age so I may be wrong about handling one...….but Kad is also highly intelligent for a toddler so some things may seem incorrect but they’re not. Idk, just enjoy this lol

Walon Vau was sitting in the common room, just reading something on his holopad. Mird was asleep on the couch beside him, snoring gently. It was peaceful and very silent for Kyrimourt…..Well it was the middle of the night after all. Reading was his favorite pastime when he couldn’t sleep. Either that or exercising.

He glanced up when he heard sniffling, seeing Kad tottle into the room. He raised his eyebrows.

The poor toddler was covered in vomit and had obviously just woken up. Walon stood up and walked to him slowly, “Poor Ad’ika. Not feeling well?” He spoke softly, the little boy nodding. “Mhmmm….” Kad whined.

Kad sniffed loudly, hugging his stuffed nerf close to his chest. Walon frowned, kneeling in front of the little boy. He held out his arms, “Come ‘ere. Let's get you cleaned up. It’ll make you feel better.”

He rubbed his eyes, hesitating. He glanced at a still sleeping Mird then back to Walon. The very intelligent kid then nodded again before walking into his arms. A smile twitched onto Vau’s lips as he gently picked up Kad.

He felt his forehead with the back of his hand, “Well, you’re not running a fever. That’s good.” He smiled when Kad nodded like he understood every word. The kid was incredibly smart ....so maybe he did. Vau didn’t know. He never spent a lot of time with Kad.

He carried Kad into the freshers to give him a bath. The toddler was staring at him with big brown eyes the whole time. The vibes he had slightly unnerved Walon…….But he was also just a baby so he wasn’t that bad.

Walon undressed Kad as he filled the tub with water. Kad tried to undress himself, apparently he thought he was grown enough. Vau couldn’t help but chuckle at the little scowl he wore when Vau undressed him instead of letting him do it.

First Walon sat the stuffed Nerf beside the sink, in Kad’s line of sight of course. Then he tossed the clothes in the hamper that sat in the corner; then kneeled by the tub, a squirming toddler in his arms. He shook his head slightly and rolled up his sleeves. Kyrimorut was supposed to be temporary….and here he was bathing a child that wasn’t even his own….

Usually he only bathed Mird, so it was different sitting a toddler into the warm water instead of a Strill. Kad splashed around the warm water, clearly already feeling a bit better.

Walon found the toys that Darman and Kal had bought for Kad to play with in the bath. In the same cupboard there were also some clean pajamas and extra soft towels. Poor Kad had bad acid reflux at times, so this clearly happened enough.

He washed all of the mess from Kad’s face and hands. Kad splashed water everywhere, getting it all over Vau’s clothes. He sighed as he washed the toddler, ignoring the water that was now everywhere.

“You’re very messy Ad’ika.” Walon mumbled as he poured a cup of water over the child's head, Kad giggling in glee. He chuckled at that, the child splashing some more.

Once he was finally all clean Vau drained the tub and removed Kad from it, wrapping him up in a towel. “Do you feel better?” Walon questioned while toweling him dry. The little one nodded quickly, a wide smile on his face.

Walon helped change him into fresh clothes and a clean diaper, Kad yawning once he was done. “Sleepy?” Walon asked in a soft voice, the child nodding as he rubbed his eyes with a tiny fist.

He sat Kad on the floor as he wiped down the water that he got everywhere. Once it was all dry he tossed the towels in the hamper. Walon then picked Kad back up, the toddler nuzzling his face into his neck.

He handed Kad his stuffed Nurf before carrying him to where he slept. Vau checked the bed first, apparently he had only gotten the vomit on himself. That made it easier for Walon. He wouldn’t have to look for sheets.

Walon sat Kad in his crib, tucking him in. Kad yawned once again, hugging Walon’s hand. “You’re welcome.” He whispered, pulling away. Kad fell asleep as quickly as most young children do. Once he was asleep Vau turned around.

He was greeted with a half asleep Darman. “What-” Walon cut him off before he was accused of anything. “He threw up on himself and crawled out. I was already awake in the common room when he wandered in looking for you.” Darman crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised.

Walon sighed, “I bathed him and put him back to bed. You’re welcome. You need to get him some medicine for that acid reflux, he seems to be especially bad at night. Poor kid needs his rest.” Darman was speechless.

“I….How….How do you know this?” Walon shrugged and averted his eyes from the Commandos. Darman blinked at that. Vau walked to him and moved around the clone, leaving the room.

“Thank you…” Dar said. Vau nodded, walking back to the common room. Darman checked on Kad, his son sleeping peacefully and not smelling of vomit. “Wow…” Dar chuckled, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe it.

Vau clicked his tongue and patted his thigh once he got back into the common room. Mird looked up and hopped off the couch with a loud high pitched yawn. “Let’s get to bed.” Walon muttered, handing his holopad to Mird so they could carry it.

He walked into his own quarters, Mird right on his heels. He quickly changed out of his damp clothes, his mind flashing with memories of his past. Mird sat the holopad on a nightstand and crawled onto the bed.

Walon sat on the foot of the bed beside Mird, gently scratching its head. “I haven’t done that in years, Mird.” He muttered, his golden eyes staring at the floor, his mind somewhere else.

“It's a lot different without Rose helping me or watching…. And without Stella crying because she can’t bring her favorite stuffy into the bath with her.” He smiled at the memory of his young daughter, the beautiful little girl that was so much like her mother. And perhaps a little bit like her father…..

“I know you miss those girls too.” He rested his head on Mird’s side, the corners of his eyes burning. Mird whined, licking its master's hand.

Sadly the daughter of Walon Vau and Verda Tal Rose was nothing more than a memory now. Luckily, she will never be forgotten.

Tags: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbuttkingofhell @catsnkooks @azem-thefourteenth @colorfulloverbatturkey @blueberrybubblesandboba @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @Strangebroadwaykinks @fyrepen33 @mistflyer1102 @kamino-mermaid @cherry-cokes-posts @cherry-cokes-world @darmanfi @silverinkandstardust @chewychewyque @majorshiraharu @ravenpuff01 @808tsuika @meabravo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist the link is on my masterlist! 

[page-doctor-bekker]

From the medical prompts list - delirium for Ava (any setting/fic of your choice) <3

Thank you for the submission! This fic contains drug addiction and withdrawal. It takes place in my brand-new addict!ava rheesker au!

Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter - addict!ava, rheesker (rhodes/reese/bekker)

(A/N) idk if i like this but whatever, enjoy! first rheesker fic!

-

-

-

"Ava, do you know where you are?"

"Med..." She slurred, drooling onto her vomit-covered chin. Her left shoulder jerked forward repetitively a few times, and she moaned.

"Ava, you're at my apartment, can you tell me what you took?" Connor spoke in a stable, yet urgent, tone, "I can't help you unless you tell me what you took."

"Why are you in my house?" Ava hardly moved her blue-tinged lips when she spoke, making her speech practically incoherent. Connor looked around for any clues, rolling up the blonde's sleeves for bruising.

No fucking way.

"Ava, just head over to my place. I know your lease doesn't end for another week, but there's no reason for you to sleep on that air mattress when I have a perfectly good apartment you can sleep at."

Instead of the expected bruising from an injection site, he found something horrifying: A janky PICC line in her bicep.

"Ava, where did you get this PICC line?" He prompted, shaking her shoulder to get her attention, "Did you put this in yourself?"

It certainly didn't seem like the work of a premier surgeon, who he happened to know excelled in central line placement, but putting one in by herself would have been a whole other ball game. Impossible, certainly impossible without an X-ray machine.

The PICC line was certainly not the greatest work - If a doctor did that to a patient, he'd be out of a job. There was blood leaking out from around the catheter, clotting up under the clear dressing.

There was trash in the area; The remnants of a saline flush and a heparin flush, a dressing change kit, a used swab cap, three unlabeled syringes (presumably from whatever drug she had used), a used Biopatch, and all the packaging from those supplies.

"Siri, text Sarah," He yelled frantically, running for the package of Narcan, and his keys.

"What would you like to say to Sarah?"

"Ava overdosed, giving Narcan and taking her to med. Meet us in the ER," Connor barked. He ripped open the box, grabbed an auto-injector, and pulled it out of it's case to start the instructional audio.

"Okay, it's sent."

He pulled off the red safety guard once he got back to Ava. He placed the end on her outer thigh shakily, and pressed down as hard as he could. He felt it click. Ava grunted.

"5," The pen's voice started, "4, 3," Connor stared at Ava's face, "2, 1. Injection complete."

Connor moved up to her chest, administering a rough sternal rub. Ava's eyes flickered open, "What the fuck?"

"Glad you're here Avie, let's get you to Med," Connor threaded one arm under her arms and one arm under her knees and lifted.

"No, no... I don't need Med, stop..."

"Is that... Coke?" Connor asked, in shock. Ava looked up at him once she was done, and shook her head. She sniffled a little bit.

"Low dose of Oxycodone," She said, "My doctor prescribed it because..." She paused for a moment, "I get crazy pain on my period."

Connor raised an eyebrow, "You have opioids for... Period pain?"

"You wouldn't get it."

Connor carried her into the waiting room, and through the doors.

"Connor?!"

"Ava Bekker, IV drug overdose, had one dose of Narcan and woke up, passed out en route."

Maggie was shocked, "Treatment three..? Uh... Will, treatment three."

"And page Sarah!"

"Dr. Charles said that high functioning addicts are one of the most dangerous types of addicts, because they are less likely to see that they have a problem and seek help."

"Sarah, I'm not an addict."

"Hey, I just got your text what... How?"

"Something IV. We're waiting on the tox screen. Er... Look at this," Connor scooted closer to the bed, and rolled up Ava's sleeve, showing Sarah the janky PICC line.

"She got... She got a central line? What doctor would-"

"She placed it herself, Sarah."

Sarah's mouth fell open. She looked at the sleeping Ava on the hospital bed, held her hands up in front of her, "Wait," She shook her head. Tears welled up in her eyes, "Wait, Ava, we went out to dinner last night, she bought a bottle of some... fancy wine, she came back to my place, she helped me pack, we were supposed to move in, what is going on!?"

"Sarah, she's being treated, she's going to be fine," Connor looked up at Sarah, "She's going to get to go home."

"I'm not letting her come home," Sarah said sharply, "Not until she goes to rehab and comes out sober. AND enrolls in outpatient care."

"You sound so angry," He looked up at her, "We knew this would happen, we talked about it. We've even talked about it with Ava. Why do you sound so surprised?"

Sarah shrugged and rolled her eyes, pulling up a seat next to Connor, "I don't know. I just... I'm just stressed out. Working, moving in with you, now this? I just," She gave a short sigh, "I feel like I'm drowning in it all."

The two sat silently for a moment. Sarah reached her hand out to where Connor was holding Ava's, and held both of their hands in her left hand.

"Are they going to pull the line?"

"I assume so, but I don't know when."

"Street drugs? Jesus, Ava, do you even know how much damage I saw from street drugs when I worked in the ED?"

"I have rounds," Sarah looked at her watch, "Sorry. Um, page me if anything changes or if she gets moved up onto a floor, and let me know when you get tox screen results," She started to leave, then turned back around, "..I love you, Con," She looked over to Ava, "I love you, Ava."

Ava, of course, didn't respond. But Connor did, "I love you too, Sarah."

-

-

-

(A/N) idk if i like this, but it's a good start for this au! i know for sure that placing a picc line yourself is a horrible, dangerous thing, and nearly impossible, but just wait for the next part of this :)

[starlightsearches]

Okay,, but for comedic purposes I need kylo and phasma being hux's besties and finding out about him having a crush on someone idk and them just trying to make them be together?? Ik it doesn't fit with star wars Canon but I'm mad at it rn so what's Canon?

Okay, this gave me some agressive college AU vibes, and I just kind of ran with it. Hope that’s okay with you, friend! Also, this is so freaking long for a drabble and I’m not sorry at all 😂

Phasma kicks his chair for the third time that night, and Hux looks at her, glaring. It’s annoyed him every time, but it annoys him even more that she’s had to; he should have more self-control than this.

“Stop staring,” she says under her breath, “it’s freaking me out.” Hux risks a glance in your direction, wondering if you’ve noticed this interaction but you stay blissfully unaware, laughing again at something Mitaka’s said to you, and Hux’s frown deepens.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he says bitingly, but she only smirks at him.

Ren plops down in the seat next to him, returning from his third trip through the  line, his plate stacked high with an appalling amount of food. “Was he staring again?”

Phasma nods, and Hux flushes red, glaring at the both of them, “why do I even bother sitting with you when I get this kind of abuse?” Both of them snicker, and Hux rolls his eyes.

“Well,” Ren says, leaning over him and gesturing in your direction with his fork, “you could always go sit over there.” He raises his eyebrows to emphasize his point, and Phasma laughs loud enough to draw attention from some of the nearby tables. Hux forces Ren’s arm down, hoping no one will notice the table he had been pointing to.

“Honestly, Hux,” Ren pulls his hand back, stabbing a spear of broccoli off his plate, “I don’t see why you can’t just go over there and talk to her.”

“Really? You can’t understand why that’s not possible?” He feels sick just thinking about it, walking through the motions in his head. There was very little that frightened Hux, but letting himself even think about speaking to you in any context beyond academic left his knees weak, and Ren had already witnessed plenty of failed interactions to know this.

“Oh, right,” he shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of a doughnut before taking a long drink of coke without swallowing first. Hux rolls his eyes.

“Well,” Phasma slams her palms to the table, before standing, “you might not be able to talk to her, but I can.” She’s out of her seat before Hux can even process her words, working her way through the crowded dining hall over to your table.

“Oh, fuck,” Hux slams his head to the table before turning to face Ren, his back towards you and the inevitable train-wreck. “What are they saying?”

Ren peers over the crowd in your direction, squinting, “I don’t know, but whatever Phasma’s telling her, she’s definitely in to it.”

“Really?” Hux sits up a little, chancing a glance your way.

“Definitely,” Ren nods sagely. As uncanny as it could be, Hux trusted Ren’s intuition on this kind of thing—he had a strange knack for reading people.

Emboldened by Ren’s verdict, Hux turns to watch the rest of the conversation unfold. Phasma is animated, as she leans over the table you’re sitting at with your friends, and you’re smiling up at her, a faint trace of laughter on your lips.

Phasma points to him as she speaks, and you follow the line of her arm, your eyes landing on him and they stay there, curious. Hux can feel his ears grow warm, and he resists the urge to bury his face in his arms, instead offering a half-hearted wave. You smile in earnest.

“Shit,” Hux says, looking down at the table with laser-like focus, “they’re coming this way.”

“Then I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Ren gathers his now-empty tray, kicking the chair back under the table.

“Wait,” Hux cries, his heart threatening to leap right out of his chest, “what am I even supposed to say to her?” 

“Just don’t be weird,” he says without a backwards glance, and Hux is left at the table alone.

“Hey, Armitage,” he recognizes your voice, and his heart stutters as if it’s threatening to fail completely. With an incredible amount of effort, he forces himself to turn around. You’re by yourself, standing at the edge of the table. Phasma is nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he replies, cringing inwardly. He had meant to sound cool and aloof, but the word comes out glacial, and your smile fractures the tiniest bit. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux finds Phasma and Ren watching him from the door, and Ren holds his face in both hands, shaking his head. This is not going well.

“Uh, I just came over here because Phasma said you had a question about the project for Professor Snoke’s class, but if now’s not a good time . . .” the rest of your sentence drifts off as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Hux feels like he’s about to suffer from a fucking aneurysm.

“It isn’t a good time, actually,” he says, and you look as if he’s slapped you; even from the other end of the dining hall he can see Ren losing his mind, “but I was wondering, I mean—if you’re not busy tomorrow, of course—if you don’t already have plans-”

“Maybe we could go over it in the library?” you offer, tentative, and Hux is overcome with relief.

“7 o’ clock?” He asks, and you nod, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“It’s a date,” you agree, waving good bye as you walk back to your table, and Hux leans back in his chair, dumbfounded. He’s got a date.

✨☕️✨ cozy time ✨☕️✨

[bomberqueen17]

GET TO KNOW FOLKS MEME

Thanks to @ghostalservice for the tag! I never do these but why not!

Name: B Relationship status: going on year 19 of non-marriage with Dude Favorite color: blue, but I also really like rainbows Pets: my princess of a cat, Chita Rivera Favorite food: while mostly I enjoy home-cooked food made largely of vegetables and such, I have an unhealthy obsession with Cadbury Creme Eggs Coke or Pepsi: I mean, Coke, but really only very occasionally and as a vehicle for either Jack Daniels or Jameson Day or night: I’m sort of crepuscular really, I wake up before dawn a lot Chapstick or Lipstick: I would love to be the kind of person who wears lipstick but since it comes off right away there seems to be no point, so, neither. Text or Call: listen spoken-out-loud words go right through my head and vanish, so while I’m happy to chat with people, as soon as I hang up, I will have forgotten what was said, so honestly I’d prefer all important communications to be in a text-based format please Last song I listened to: I can’t remember what I last listened to on purpose but yesterday the high school across the street had (we looked it up on their website) their annual Mother/Son Social Event and so they cranked up the sound system from 2pm until 8pm with a bizarre assortment of pop songs (idk would you booty-pop with your mom? if you were a high school Catholic boy?) and the last song of the night that I could identify (I couldn’t hear anything else, it’s louder in my house than in their auditorium I think) was Usher’s Yeah. Fun fact: That was the chart-topper the last time Brood X hatched, 17 years ago. Favorite band/artist/groups: I can never do all-times on these ones, but I was pumped to recently discover that Rhiannon Giddens just put out a new album. Here’s the title track: They’re Calling Me Home Any hobbies/passions: mostly i write fic and drive back and forth to my sister’s farm where I do assorted farm tasks including work on the processing line in her poulty slaughterhouse. My other big hobby for this year is going to be uhh building a tiny house, to live in while at said farm, I just put down a down payment on the roofing supplies so Big Yikes on that. I don’t know how to build a thing but my brother in law swears he does so we’ll see how this goes. (I do believe him. I just don’t believe in the logistics of it. But I’m willing to go along for the ride.)

Ooh i’m supposed to tag people. Thing is I’m never sure who on here is trying v hard not to have any kind of like... personal... existence... but why not?? None of this is super revealing right?

Well, if you think it would be fun, I’ll tag @akilah12902, @mikkeneko, @jackclaw, @mxbuster-- I mean, anybody else who sees this and wants to do it should, it’s easy to get lost in reblogs on this here webbed site and never see anything new. <3

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo Preview | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk but it’s... not on purpose??, jungkook looks soft but he’s tattoed and pierced, accidental edging (you’ll... understand) → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: ...listen. i am not in the right state of mind right now. i am actually bordering on insane... but that’s not gonna stop me from being a clown so this is!! something i’ve been working on for a Year now but @jincherie​ literally commissioned me to finish writing this piece of shit so here we are... here we fucking are... idk when i’m posting this but it will be Soon and i’m not ready

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there. 

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that. 

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. He feels his eyes bugging out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you. 

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter one

[ao3]

have i ever mentioned my britpop au? i don’t think i have :) this is quite literally the definition of self-indulgence like genuinely this is so self-indulgent that it probably counts as a deadly sin and i have literally no justifications for it 

before anybody comes for me for starting another chaptered fic: i have 50k of this lined up and i’m still going at the speed of light (as sam can attest to) fear not we’re going to get there with this one i promise also for anyone still waiting for the soulmate au thats going to get finished too once this is out of my system 

i have an inordinate number of people to thank for putting up with me/this fic so let us begin: @tirednotflirting​ deserves every single ounce of praise and love i have to offer for reading this whole thing, listening to me talk about it, bouncing ideas with me, being so patient and kind about it, coming up with such brilliant ideas and for just generally being an all-round sweetheart. @calumftduke​ also deserves excessive praise and thanks for reading a big old chunk of this and being so sweet about it. @killingangels​ genuinely breathed life into this fic and cheered it on to the place it is today thank u for diving into a britpop phase with me. @ashesonthefloor​ and @clumsyclifford​ listened to me whine about this fic even though neither of them care and i truly owe them for that. @kaleidoscopeminds lets me thirst over the gallaghers but keeps me in my place about it which is truly the vibe check i need and also listened to me talk about this fic over the past few weeks and is just generally such a joy to speak to. i’m certain i’ve forgotten someone my brain has not been switched on in weeks now but anyone who’s listened to me talk about this over the past few weeks deserves a ticket straight to heaven honestly 

quick bit of vocab: our kid is a term used by siblings in manchester. not sure why i don’t understand mancunian culture myself but the gallaghers are always saying it in interviews and my mancunian friend concurred that it is correct so idk what goes on up there 

warnings: heavy drug use (its oasis and blur in the ‘90s theres a lot of coke/weed/alcohol) and lots of swearing (including the c word because they’re british)

-

He’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

-

or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

Liam had once asked Calum if he believed in fate. 

“D’you think it’s all real?” he’d said one day, out of the fucking blue. Calum, though, used to Liam beginning conversations in the middle after two long years of knowing him, had just looked at him. 

“Do I think what’s all real?” he’d asked. Liam had indicated up at the sky with his eyes and cigarette. 

“Fate, and all that,” he’d said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Calum had watched as his cheeks hollowed around it, turning potential answers over and over in his mind. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d said eventually, and Liam had raised his eyebrows and nodded as he’d exhaled a cloud of grey smoke that had blended in with the sky and the council houses. 

Calum thinks he probably should have known then. Maybe Liam had been trying to make a point, in that strange way he sometimes does - what are the odds you’d end up here, with us? Calum hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, just rolled his eyes and nudged Liam’s foot with his own and said Noel’s going to do his fucking nut if we’re not there in ten, and that had been that. The conversation never even crossed his mind again until it was too late, until fate had already had her way with Calum. 

In Calum’s defence, though, fate never showed her hand. She never threw him any hints, no flashing neon signs that said Calum, your destiny is this way. Fate came piecemeal, came in short snippets of conversations or flashes of familiar faces or, on occasion, Liam and Noel swearing loudly at each other as they stomp up the stairs in Calum’s house.

“I’m arsed,” Liam’s saying loudly, when he barges into Calum’s room. Noel’s hot on his heels, midway through a spiel he’s clearly prepared which Liam’s having none of, and he turns to Calum when they get through the door, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“Tell him he’s a prick,” he says. 

“Why?” Calum says, setting his magazine aside, because he needs to know what he’s supposed to be endorsing before he picks a side in an argument between the Gallagher brothers. 

“Our kid wants us to miss the match tonight and go to some fucking gig,” Liam grumbles, throwing himself down on Calum’s bed and picking up his magazine. 

“It’s not ‘some fucking gig’, Liam,” Noel says irritably. “It’s the fucking Boardwalk. We’ve got to hear what else is out there right now.” 

“I told you, I’m fucking arsed what else is out there right now,” Liam says, flicking about five pages on from the article Calum had been in the middle of reading. “I don’t write the fucking songs, do I? Go on your fucking own. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Noel rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Calum’s Gallagher Explosion Incoming senses start tingling, followed swiftly by his Peacekeeping Skill Set activating. 

“Look,” he says hurriedly, before Noel can say something that’ll lead to a couple of black eyes, mostly because neither of the brothers have ever cared much about collateral damage and Calum values his bruiseless skin. “What if we start the match, and if City look like they’re going to lose, we go to the gig?” Noel closes his mouth, and then opens it again, and then closes it again. 

“Fucking whatever,” Liam grumbles, which is the closest they’re going to get to acquiescence from him. Calum stares at Noel beseechingly, because this is the best idea he’s got and pretty much the only one he thinks Liam’ll agree to, and Noel rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically, but then nods reluctantly. 

“City won’t fucking lose,” he mutters, as he sits down in the chair at Calum’s desk. “Not to a bunch of Scousers.” 

“Lost to Liverpool not four weeks ago,” Calum reminds him, and Noel scowls. 

“That second goal was fucking offside,” he says. 

“Ref was a fucking wanker,” Liam chimes in, from where he’s lying on Calum’s bed, still thumbing through the magazine. “‘Ere, what’s this, then?” he adds, with a grin, and turns the magazine around, tapping on the page. It’s a picture of a (very pretty) boy spread across a motorbike, and Calum rolls his eyes, snatching the magazine out of Liam’s hands. 

“Fuck off,” he says, but Liam’s just laughing, head tipped back on the bed, all full lips and bright blue eyes and long, dark lashes. If Calum hadn’t been doing lines with Liam for half of last night, he could almost believe the angelic innocence the boy gives off. 

“Looks like our kid,” Noel says, sitting down on the chair at Calum’s desk. Liam raises his head far enough to give Noel a two-fingered salute, but he’s still grinning, and Noel’s grinning too when he flips Liam off in return. 

Fucking hell, Calum thinks. It’ll take more than his three O Levels to fucking understand those two. 

 -------

 City end up conceding three goals in the first twenty-five minutes, and Liam’s the one who stands up, voice already hoarse from screaming at the TV, and demands they go out. Noel, never one to resist pressing buttons that only he can find on Liam, makes a snide comment about it, and Calum, to keep the peace, makes a comment about United, giving both brothers something to spend the entire bus journey to the Boardwalk ranting about. 

Noel gets them in for free, because he knows someone who knows someone who’d been a roadie with a band who had been on tour with the Inspiral Carpets for like, half a second, or something. Calum doesn’t really care how they get in for free, whether Noel gets them in by knowing someone who knows someone or by hiring a hitman on the bouncer, as long as they do get in for free, because he’d rather save his money for weed. 

The band that’s playing are immediately declared to be boring little fuckers by Liam, who beelines for the bar and only has to flutter his lashes twice before the pretty girl behind the bar sidles up to him with a coy look on her face. To his credit, though, he doesn’t linger after getting the drinks, weaving through the crowd to Noel and Calum with a mixture of shouted insults and threats at anyone in his path, three overfull pints balanced precariously in his hands. 

“You’re paying me back for these,” is how he greets them again, taking a sip from Noel’s before handing it to him. Noel just rolls his eyes, turning back to the stage and raising the pint to his lips. 

“Am I fuck,” Calum says, taking the other beer out of Liam’s outstretched hand. Liam scowls, but lets him take it, taking a sip from his own glass. 

“I’ll just smoke your weed, then,” he says, like he doesn’t do that anyway. Calum just shakes his head and turns back to the stage, where a new band are setting up, fiddling with their amps and mic stands. 

“D’you even know who these pricks are?” Liam asks Noel. 

“Don’t even know if they’re worth knowing yet,” Noel says. Liam shrugs, like that’s a fair point, and then a squeal of feedback makes all three of them (and the rest of the crowd) jump, causing loud swearing from at least eight people in the vicinity as their drinks slosh over them. 

“Fucking hell,” Noel mutters, shaking his hands off. 

“Evening,” the lead singer says, voice deep and rich. “We’re Blur, and this is Popscene.” They immediately launch into something that’s all guitars and overdrive and beat, and Noel’s soon tapping his foot along in interest, spilled beer forgotten, as the singer starts jumping around enthusiastically. They’re not standing anywhere near the stage, and the distance and bright lights combined with the movement are making the singer look more translucent than opaque, which is making Calum’s head hurt. He chooses to focus on the bassist instead, because Noel’s kind of got a point that they should be listening to what else is around, although he’s probably just looking for more people to nick ideas off. 

By the third song, though, Calum realises he’s really stood far too far away to get any benefit from watching the bassist - he can’t even tell whether he’s using a plectrum or not, and his eyes are already starting to hurt from squinting - and lets his gaze wander across the stage. There’s a guitarist wearing glasses, which Calum’s pretty sure Liam’s going to have a comment about that’ll involve the words ‘fucking’ ‘not’ and ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, with maybe ‘cunt’ chucked in for good measure. The drummer’s so far back that all Calum can make out is a shadowy figure behind the kit, and when the singer stands still long enough for Calum to see more than just a hazy figure all he can vaguely make out is what looks like very pretty features and blonde hair. 

It’s the other guitarist, though, that makes Calum stop, his heart stilling in his chest for the briefest of moments. 

He looks so familiar, messy blonde hair sticking up at all sorts of angles that Calum’s only ever seen on one other person, that it makes Calum’s stomach lurch. He’s got his face down, focusing on whatever they’re playing, so Calum can’t really see - not that he’d be able to tell from this distance, anyway - but there’s something that’s so achingly known to Calum that it makes him swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Even the guitarist’s posture is familiar, a little tense, a lot focused, with an edge of something cool and relaxed. 

Calum’s so mesmerised by the guitarist, heart hammering in his chest, that he barely even realises three more songs have come to an end until the band all stop, gather together at the front of the stage and do an awkward half-bow-half-wave to the crowd. There’s a smattering of applause as they straighten up, and the lights are too bright for Calum to see properly, but he sees a flash of a smile that looks so much like one he hasn’t seen in almost four years that it makes something electric shoot through him before he’s even processed it, and then they’re turning around and heading off the stage. 

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. 

It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. 

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. 

 -------

 They stay to watch three more bands, and then Liam’s in a fucking mood and even Noel’s had enough of the music, so they head back to Noel’s flat to drink and get high. Liam and Noel bicker the whole way there, first about whether or not Liam should be paying for all the weed Noel buys that he smokes, then about whether or not Liam had actually slept over last night or whether he’d been at home, then about whether or not the shirt their mam had bought Noel for Christmas had been green or blue. Calum offers his input on all of them, siding with Noel twice and Liam once, but gets snapped at to shut the fuck up by the both of them each time, making him roll his eyes as he kicks stones along the pavement. 

(“Noel’s a fucking cunt,” Liam had said to him once, fuming, after a particularly nasty argument that had ended in every bag of frozen peas being dug out of the freezer. 

“Yeah,” Calum had said. “So are you, though, mate.” 

“Don’t call my brother a cunt,” Liam had said, and Calum had rolled his eyes, picking up the now-defrosted bag of peas on the table and taking them back into the kitchen, where Noel was nursing his own black eye. 

“What the fuck is his problem?” Noel had said furiously. 

“You’re both twats,” Calum had said with a shrug, tossing the peas back in the freezer.

“Hey,” Noel had said sharply. “That’s my fucking brother.” 

Calum’ll never pretend to understand them.) 

They spend the night lying on Noel’s living room floor, pleasantly drunk and so stoned that Liam and Noel forget to argue for about three hours. Calum drifts in and out of sleep, listening to Liam and Noel mumbling to each other and remembering to speak once every twenty minutes or so, until Noel nudges him at what must be about five in the morning. 

“What’d you reckon?” he says, looking thoughtful. 

“About what?” 

“That band, tonight.” They saw five bands, so Calum would be well within his rights to ask which one, but somehow, he knows. 

“Good,” he says. “Interesting. Sounded new, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Noel says, rolling on his side to face Calum. He hums, like he’s thinking Calum’s words over. “Liam reckons they’re not rock ‘n’ roll enough.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Liam reckons the fucking Stones aren’t rock ‘n’ roll enough,” he says, and Noel snorts, and it sounds so fucking ridiculous that Calum giggles, which makes Noel burst out laughing, and soon they’re cackling on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they gasp for breath and clutch at their stitches. Liam, who’s been sleeping soundly, looking peaceful and tranquil and not at all like the guy who’d threatened to knock Calum’s teeth out for suggesting City should have played a different formation not six hours ago, stirs and opens his eyes, blinking blearily. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, and then rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Noel glances at Calum, flushed and panting from laughing, eyes bright and gleaming, and that one look is enough to make the both of them collapse in laughter again, cheeks and sides and throats hurting. 

The next morning, when Liam wakes Calum up by nudging him in the ribs and saying get up, lazy bugger, we’re late for work, that’s what Calum remembers from the night before. He remembers laughter, Noel’s living room going blurry around the edges, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, weed and two of his best mates thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t remember the boy on guitar in the Boardwalk.

 ------- 

 The next time fate has her way with Calum is a good year and a half later. 

They’re recording their first album, which Noel seems to think means he’s recording his first album and everyone else is just there to complement his fucking genius. He’s not managed to stop being a cunt for about six months now, and, not one to let Noel beat him in anything, Liam’s getting equally insufferable. The studio is a fucking battleground, and Bonehead always takes Liam’s side and Tony’s just fucking useless, and Calum thinks to himself at least twice a day: is this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just stuck with construction. 

They’re getting there, though, and when it’s good, it’s fucking good. They can all sense that there’s something there, something new and bold and, as Noel in all his endless humility declares it one night, groundbreaking. They’ve recorded Supersonic, a song that Noel somehow wrote in about half an hour, recorded a video for it on the roof of some warehouse in London, and there’s something about it that none of them can quite put their finger on, something that feels almost overwhelming, feels like it’s bigger than them. They’ve even been on the radio a few times, been playing bigger and bigger venues, got a contract and management and all that nonsense, and for all the flaws that combine to make up the Gallagher brothers, Noel’s got a fucking knack for songwriting and Liam’s voice is unlike anything Calum’s heard before. 

The problem is that lately, it’s been bad more than it’s been good. They’d done sessions at Monnow Valley which had sounded like absolute shit, too clean and thin, and with every day that passed and every track that couldn’t be used Noel got more and more frantic, snapping at everyone who dared speak to him. Liam, never one to resist a fight with his brother, had risen to the challenge, and the fallout had been messier and dirtier and involved more collateral damage than even Calum had expected. It had culminated in a trip to Amsterdam which had ended before it even began after a fight broke out on the ferry. Calum remembers seeing Liam zooming past, a happy grin on his face, heading right for the middle of the action, and then twenty minutes later zooming past again, bruised and bloody, still grinning, being chased by a policeman. It had ended in Liam being deported, handcuffs and all, and a screaming match between the brothers in which both of them quit and were fired by the other at least twenty-three times. 

Since that, though, things have got a little better. They’ve started recording in Sawmills in Cornwall with Noel as a co-producer, and Noel and Liam have started talking again, and everyone had breathed out a collective sigh of relief when Noel had announced he was going to head to the shops and Liam had wordlessly got up to join him. Slowly but surely, things have started looking up. 

It’s in the middle of one of those sessions that everything changes. 

“Eeyar, Calum,” Noel calls, from the corridor outside. “Your mam’s on the phone.” Calum sighs - fucking hell, what does his mum not understand about we’re recording an album and I’m twenty-two years old, I’ll call you when I fucking call you - but puts his bass aside and gets up grudgingly, trotting outside to see Noel holding out the receiver for him. 

“I want you back in in ten,” he says warningly, like he’s Calum’s dad and they’re eating dinner soon, and Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, which is as good of a yes as Noel’s going to get. Noel sticks his tongue out at him and heads back into the studio, probably to yell at Bonehead from the soundboard for being too loud, or maybe too quiet, or maybe too middling. He’ll find something. 

“What?” Calum says, a little irritably, lifting the receiver to his ear. 

“Hello to you too, Calum,” his mum says smartly. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.” Calum rests his arm against the wall, and his forehead against his arm, and stares at his shoes. 

“I’m recording an album, mum,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too annoyed. “We’re busy.” She makes a small hmm, a you should have stayed in a real job kind of hmm, but doesn’t push it. 

“Are you eating well?” she asks, a stern undertone to her voice, like she knows Calum’s diet right now is entirely liquid. 

“Yes,” Calum lies. He gets another disapproving hmm for his trouble which sounds like it might be the prelude to a speech about how he should stop wasting his time and come home and do a proper job and eat some vegetables, so he decides to change tack. “How’s home?” 

“Oh, home’s good,” his mum says. “Janet next door’s got a new man, invited us to the wedding next month - can you imagine? A wedding in March? I said to her, I said ‘you’ll be wanting to move it to May’, and she said ‘oh, we want an indoor wedding anyway’.” Calum hums noncommittally, because he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. What the fuck’s wrong with an indoor wedding in March? “Anyway, your dad and I have decided to go. Janet extended the invitation to you, too, but I said I didn’t know if you’d be back from your recording session.” 

“I don’t know either,” Calum says. “Noel’s being a right cunt about the whole thing.”  

“Calum,” his mum says reprovingly, like she wasn’t the one he picked the word up from in the first place. “Well, regardless, you’ll be home by April, won’t you? I told your dad you’d help fix the wall in the garden.” Calum groans, because that’s pretty much the last thing on the list of things he wants to do, including having Noel claw his eyeballs out for fucking up the bass on Supersonic again, and his mum tuts. “You’ve got experience in construction, Calum. You should put those skills to good use.” 

“I’ve never fixed a fucking wall, mum,” he says. 

“Well, the wall needs fixing,” she says, like that’s that. The wall needs fixing, so Calum’s got to suddenly develop the skills to do it. 

(For her, though, Calum’ll do it.) 

“What’s wrong with it?” he says, already mentally ringing up the cost of the bricks and mortar he’s going to need. “Looked fine last time I was home.” 

“I think the ivy must have loosened the cement,” his mum says. “I was watching TV the other night - I saw Michael on Top of the Pops, actually - and then-”

“Hang on,” Calum interrupts, because he only knows two Michaels, and one of them’s here in Cornwall with him. “Michael who?” 

“Michael Clifford,” his mum says, like it’s obvious. “Anyway, then I heard a huge crash outside, and I told your dad to go and take a look, and he said the wall had caved in. Just a bit, you know, near the shed, but-” she’s still talking, something about foxes and de-weeding the garden, but Calum’s not listening. 

Michael Clifford, she’d said, like it was simple and obvious. Like it stood to reason that she saw him on Top of the fucking Pops. Like it made sense that Calum’s childhood best friend, his fucking everything from the age of seven to seventeen, was on a British music show. 

“Michael Clifford?” he repeats, in the middle of whatever his mum’s saying. 

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little annoyed that Calum’s not listening to her impassioned speech about ivy. “Anyway, your dad said he’d need some help with it, and that it can wait until you’re back. But I want it done as soon as you are, because I don’t like the idea of Janet being able to see into our garden. Oh, that’s the chicken done. Call me in a few days, let me know how things are. Give the others my best. Love you.” She doesn’t even wait for a response, just hangs up, leaving Calum staring at the floor with a dial tone ringing in his ear and a name bouncing around in his mind. 

It can’t be him. She must have been mistaken. What the fuck would Michael Clifford be doing on Top of the Pops? What the fuck would Michael Clifford even be doing in Britain? The last Calum had heard from him, about a year and a half after he’d left Sydney, Michael had been sure about becoming a policeman. He’d seemed so dead set on it, had signed himself up for the academy and everything. Calum might not have heard from him in almost half a decade, but he’s pretty sure nobody would stray so far from ‘policeman in Sydney’ to end up at ‘musician in Britain’. No, he thinks, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall with his arm, his mum must have been wrong. She hasn’t seen Michael since they’d moved from Sydney five years ago either, so it’s understandable that she’d mixed him up with someone else. 

But, a little voice says, as he heads back into the studio and is greeted with the sight of Liam sprawled across the sofa, laughing at something Noel’s just said, both of them looking far too high-spirited for Gallaghers, she watched Michael grow up. She knew his face better than you ever did. 

“‘Ere,” Liam says, interrupting the voice in Calum’s mind as it’s about to start reeling off a list of times Calum’s mum had spotted Michael in a crowd or down the road or in a photo before Calum had. “Noel says he’ll sprint around the house naked if Tony doesn’t fuck up his drums on this take. What d’you reckon?” 

“I reckon it’s a good thing Tony can’t fucking play drums then, isn’t it?” Calum says, as Liam drops his feet to the floor to make room for Calum on the sofa. Liam snorts, and Noel scowls, but his eyes are still lit up with amusement. 

“Well, I reckon you’re both cunts,” Noel tells them, and Calum grins, hoping they don’t see the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and reaches over for Liam’s beer to try and calm his churning stomach. 

 -------

 Calum can’t sleep that night. 

He’s usually so drunk that Liam’s gentle snoring doesn’t even register to him as he throws himself down on his bed, often fully-dressed, and falls right asleep, only waking up to fumble around for paracetamol in the middle of the night when his throbbing headache overpowers his exhaustion. He’s not used to lying there, stomach still unsettled, mind racing, staring blankly up at the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated by the noise of Liam sleeping. 

Liam rolls over in his sleep, mutters something under his breath, and then his breathing evens out again, and Calum times the minutes passing by the way he breathes in, out, in, out. The moonlight’s getting brighter - or maybe it’s the sun rising, he’s not sure - and eventually, when Liam rolls over again and smacks his lips in his sleep, Calum’s had enough. He gets up, pads out of the room and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen for a drink. 

He’s surprised, though, when he pushes the door open, to find Noel sat at the breakfast bar, a sheet of paper in front of him, still wearing the same clothes from the day before. He turns around at the noise of the door opening and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a greeting to Calum, who grunts back at him as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water. 

“Can’t sleep?” Noel asks, and Calum raises his eyebrows over the glass of water he’s gulping down. 

“No,” he says, setting the glass down on the counter. “You?” Noel shakes his head. 

“‘S Bonehead’s fucking snoring,” he says, by way of an explanation, but Calum’s known Noel for five years now, and knows him better than that. 

“And that’s why you’re still dressed?” Calum says shrewdly. 

“Fuck off,” Noel mutters, raising a can of beer to his lips so he won’t have to say anything else. Calum sighs and shakes his head, but chooses not to push him on it, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs. 

“You writing?” he asks, and Noel looks down at the sheet of paper under his hand, and shrugs. 

“Trying,” he says. Calum hums, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a while. 

It helps, Calum finds, to be with Noel. He’s never been a man of many words - neither him nor Liam have ever been particularly gifted in that area - but Calum knows he’s always safe with Noel, thrives in the quiet comfort of Noel’s presence. Noel never asks, never pushes, but he’s always there if Calum ever needs anything, and even though they never speak about it, they both know the same is true vice versa. 

(Calum can count on one hand the number of times he’s needed Noel, and can count on one finger the number of times Noel’s needed him.)

That’s not to say Noel doesn’t have his moments, though. He’s obstinate, brash, loud, arrogant, thinks his opinion is worth at least twelve times as much as anyone else’s, and takes himself far too seriously half the time. Calum’s had some of his most memorable arguments with Noel, edged out only slightly by how spectacular his arguments with Liam have been. Both of those, however, are eclipsed by how fucking nuclear the arguments between Noel and Liam are. The two of them bring out both the worst and the best in each other, grating at each other’s virtues and soothing each other’s flaws. They don’t know how to be happy unless they’re dancing along the line between love and hate, and Calum’s not sure it’d work any other way. He’s seen them in their brief, private moments of peace - Liam’s head on Noel’s chest, Noel’s arm wrapped around him, Liam murmuring something about a song or a memory that makes Noel snort, which in turn makes Liam’s lips curve up in a proud smile - but neither of their ships could sail anywhere without a restless sea to guide them. They need the fighting, need the bickering, even need the punches, to keep the wheels turning. A conversation’s not really begun if Noel and Liam haven’t called each other cunts at least twice, Calum thinks, and if Calum’s not been called upon by both of them to call the other a cunt within ten seconds of the inevitable argument breaking out. 

It had been an argument like that a year or so ago that had led to them traipsing to the Boardwalk to watch that band play. Calum remembers the energy they had, raw and a little off-kilter but something there all the same, remembers the lyrical shouting of the singer and the way he’d bounced all over the stage, but not as much as he remembers the guitarist. 

He’d looked so familiar, blonde hair and posture combining to make Calum’s heart ache like no music had ever quite managed to. It couldn’t have been him, though, he’d told himself. There was absolutely no way that Michael Clifford could have been playing in the fucking Boardwalk. Michael was in Sydney, back home, probably sunning himself on Bondi Beach and laughing at something Ashton was saying as Luke grinned at Ashton with wide blue eyes. Michael wasn’t in Manchester. 

Except, a little voice in his head says, maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s mum hadn’t mistaken some guy in a band on Top of the Pops for Michael. Maybe it was Michael. 

“D’you know that band we saw, a few years ago?” Calum says, out of the blue, before the thought to say the words has even crossed his mind. Noel looks up at him, thick brows furrowed. 

“Seen a lot of fucking bands,” he says, a little slowly, like he’s trying to figure out what Calum’s actually asking. Calum half-considers dropping the subject entirely, but Noel’s been in the business far longer than he has, and if anyone’s going to know, it’s him.

“The one in the bar. After the City match.” Noel purses his lips, brows creasing further, before nodding thoughtfully. 

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. They’re famous now, they are.” 

“Oh,” Calum says, and swallows. That’s not what he expected - or, he finds, wanted - to hear. 

“Yeah. Heard their first record. Or maybe it was their second, I don’t know. It wasn’t all that.” 

“What’re they called, again?” Calum asks, hoping the question sounds innocent, but Noel’s eyes narrow a fraction. 

“Blur,” he says. 

“Blur,” Calum repeats, testing the word out, letting it sit on his tongue. 

“Why?” 

“No reason,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, like he’s weighing up whether or not to say something, but then seems to let it go, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking odd one, you are,” he says, which is the nicest thing he’s said to Calum in months. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, with a grin. “Good-looking, too.” 

“Don’t push it,” Noel warns, and Calum laughs, swinging his legs. 

“What’re you writing, then?” he asks. Noel looks back down at the sheet of paper. 

“Don’t know, really,” he says. “Just can’t seem to get it right.” 

“Want me to take a look?” Calum offers. 

“You?” Noel says sceptically. “You barely even play a fucking instrument.” 

“Bass is a fucking instrument, you prick,” Calum says, only half-incensed. 

“You’re up there with the fucking tambourine player,” Noel says, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Fuck off,” Calum says, and Noel leans back in the chair, grinning. “You’re the one who bought him that fucking tambourine, anyway.” 

“Little twat might as well do something worthwhile,” Noel says, like Liam’s voice isn’t one of the two indispensable elements they’ve got. 

“At least I can play guitar,” Calum counters. Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Playing?” he says. “Well. If that’s what you want to call it.” Calum scowls and flips him off, and Noel just laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute in return.

“Go on, then,” he says, shoving the piece of paper to the edge of the breakfast bar. “Let’s see how much damage can be done to my genius.” Calum rolls his eyes but reaches over to pull the piece of paper towards him. There’s barely anything on there, just two lines: I can’t tell you the way I feel/Because the way I feel is oh so new to me. Fucking hell. 

“I’m off to bed,” Noel says, like he can sense the questions bubbling under the surface of Calum’s frown, and pushes himself back from the breakfast bar. Calum looks up, catches the brief look of don’t you dare fucking ask me what that’s about that flits across Noel’s face, just the most fractional chink in his armour, and nods, hopping off the counter and tucking the sheet of paper into his pocket. He should probably try and get some sleep too, if only because he’s going to have to be in the best frame of mind possible to deal with how insufferable Noel’s going to be tomorrow on three hours’ sleep. 

“I’m going to smother your brother if he’s not stopped snoring,” he tells Noel, following him out of the room. Noel snorts as he starts up the stairs, that strange mixture of derisive and fond that the Gallaghers manage so well. 

“You’ve got more of a fucking chance of him waking up a bird than you do getting him to stop snoring,” he says. Calum sighs, all long-suffering, like this is news to him, even though he’s been sleeping in rooms with Liam since they were seventeen and sixteen respectively.

“Good thing the tambourine player’s expendable, then,” he says, and Noel laughs, soft and quiet in the stillness of the night. 

“You’d be doing the world a fucking favour,” he says, but there’s a strong edge of pride and fondness that Noel only ever gets when talking about Liam, and Liam only ever gets when talking about Noel, and they never get when talking to each other. Calum thinks they’d probably both rather switch to being United fans than ever admit any semblance of love exists between the two of them, but it hums lowly beneath the surface, visible for anyone who bothers to look beyond the black eyes and hurled insults and weeks of refusing to even look at each other. No one can deny that the two of them fucking hate each other half the time, but without the push and pull of their relationship, without the back and forth and the give and take, the band couldn’t work. If the two of them ever lost that, if one of them ever pulled or pushed too hard, that’d be it. It should probably concern Calum more than it does that his entire career is poised on the knife’s edge that is Liam and Noel’s endless tug-of-war, but he's yet to lose the strangely settled feeling in his stomach every time Noel quits or fires Liam that tells him they'll be alright. You'll be alright. There are still better things to come. 

“You’re just saying that because you want to sing,” Calum retorts. 

“Nah,” Noel says with a grin, hand hovering over the door handle of his and Bonehead’s room. “I’m saying it because I want more royalties.” Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too. 

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” he promises. 

 -------

 As Calum had predicted, Noel’s a fucking nightmare the next day. 

He snaps at everyone who dares come within a ten metre radius of him, and, when everyone stops going into the same room Noel’s in, he specifically goes out of his way to find Liam to start an argument that ends in Liam complaining that one of his teeth is loose. 

(“It’s not fucking loose,” Bonehead says, and then decides to leave the room, presumably because he doesn’t want to deal with Liam’s moaning and whining. Calum can’t really blame him, and starts to shift surreptitiously towards the door himself.

“Since when are you a fucking dentist, you cunt?” Liam shouts after him, and Bonehead flips him off as he walks away. “You’re coming with me to the dentist, you are.” He’s rounded on Calum now, blocking the path to the door, and Calum sighs. 

“If we get more beer on the way back,” he bargains, and Liam nods.) 

That’s how Calum’s ended up in some posh dental surgery, spread out across a leather sofa and looking very incongruous in his oversized shirt and baggy jeans amongst the glass and the fancy-looking plants, waiting for Liam to come out of his appointment. It’s taking far longer than he’d expected - he’d thought it’d be a quick your tooth’s not fucking loose, you knob, you’ve definitely had worse, like everyone else had told him, but Liam’s been in there for a good fifteen minutes now, and Calum’s getting bored. 

The receptionist keeps making eyes at him, and Calum can’t tell whether they’re I want to fuck you eyes or whether they’re you look like you’re going to try and rob this dental surgery eyes, so eventually he picks up the nearest magazine off the coffee table and flicks it open to a random page just for something to look at that isn’t her. 

There’s a very pretty guy staring back at him when he looks down, blonde and blue-eyed and grinning inanely at the camera, and the caption reads BLUR: the cocky rebels you’re allowed to love. 

Blur. That’s what Noel had called the band from that bar in Manchester last night. They’re famous now, they are, he’d said.  

Calum barely even notices the way his heart speeds up as his eyes fly across the page, scanning the article for any mention of Michael before he really realises what he’s looking for. The author and the singer - Damon, apparently - keep referring to a Mike, an Australian Mike, which puts Calum right on edge, but Michael had never gone by Mike. He fucking hated it, corrected anyone who called him anything other than Michael, refused to respond to any teachers who tried to call him Mike, threw glowers at any classmates who did the same. He’d barely even let Calum call him Mikey in his most vulnerable moments, rubbing small circles on his back soothingly as he coaxed him to throw up all the cheap booze they’d nicked from the corner shop. 

Calum’s fingers are slick with sweat as he’s turning the page and his eyes are starting to water from how little he’s blinking, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, whether he wants Mike to be Michael or not. When he reaches the bottom of the second page, however, Calum’s heart stops. 

There’s a picture of the whole band. Damon’s standing second from the left, right arm holding his left bicep, head tilted upwards, looking lazy and effortlessly beautiful, like he fucking knows he’s worth looking at. It reminds Calum of Liam a little bit, the way he plays into the camera, the way he knows that with a small tilt of his chin and a slight lowering of his lashes he’ll have half the fucking nation on their knees for him. Maybe that’s just the way singers need to be, Calum thinks, eyes flitting to the ginger guy to Damon’s left, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then to the guy directly on Damon’s right; tall, broody-looking, dark hair swept across his face. To his right is a shorter dark-haired man, looking tense and on edge, and to his right is-

Michael Clifford. 

There’s no mistaking him. He’s got the same blonde hair still sticking up at all sorts of angles, the same sleepy, sea green eyes, the same pretty lips slightly parted in a pout. He’s holding himself confidently, miles away from the slightly scrawny teenager Calum had left behind, staring into the lens of the camera like it’s a challenge. Come on, Calum. Tell yourself I ever stopped mattering to you, go on. 

Calum doesn’t need to read the caption to know it’s Michael, knows it from the way he’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand, but does it anyway, one final, desperate grasp at a straw - from left to right: David Rowntree, Damon Albarn, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Michael Clifford. 

Michael Clifford. 

The words seem to sort of swim in front of Calum’s eyes, like they’re not really there, like his mind’s superimposed them on the article somehow, but the picture’s still there, clear as day. Michael, a hint of stubble on his jaw, face more angled and figure fuller and shoulders broader and God, he looks so fucking good that Calum’s stomach flips and drops and flips again. 

“-fucking hell, Earth to fucking Cal,” Liam says, sounding sort of muffled, and Calum nearly drops the magazine in shock, yanked back into reality so suddenly and jarringly by the sound of his voice. 

“What?” he says, looking up to see Liam with an irritated expression on his face, cradling one cheek in his hand. 

“Let’s fucking go,” Liam says, already halfway to the door. Calum stares after him for a moment, mind trying to process Liam wants to leave over the tangled jumble of Michael Michael Michael currently winding its way through every cell in his brain, before he jumps up, magazine still in his hand. 

“Sir,” the receptionist calls immediately, like she’s had her eye on him the whole time. “You can’t take the magazine with you.” Calum looks down at the magazine, and Liam turns around from the door, a slight tension in his posture that Calum recognises as the one he gets when he’s spoiling for a fucking fight. Christ, he’s not about to deck the fucking receptionist, is he? 

“Or what?” Liam says, a little menacingly. “You gonna fucking stop him?” 

“I just-” 

“What the fuck do you want with the fucking magazine, eh? Fucking paid enough for the appointment, buy yourself another." 

“C’mon,” Calum mutters, rolling the magazine up and hurrying over to Liam, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Let’s go.” Liam hesitates for a moment, like he’s torn between going to get beer or shouting at a receptionist, but eventually the alcohol seems to win in his mind, because he settles for throwing her one final glare and letting Calum guide him out of the door. 

“What’d they say?” Calum asks as they walk out, his hand still on Liam’s back, because he knows Liam better than to trust he won’t just change his mind on a whim and go storming back in to give the receptionist a piece of his mind for not wanting Calum to take a fucking magazine. 

“Don’t fucking know,” Liam mutters, pushing open the door to outside. Calum shivers a little when the cool late-February air hits him, and decides that Liam’s probably safe now, letting go of him to wrap his arms around himself as they head back to the car that’s been waiting for them. “Sounded like he said something about my flaps.” Calum snorts. 

“Bit forward of him,” he says, and Liam grins. 

“Why’d you take that fucking magazine, then, eh?” he says, rounding the car without looking into the road and flipping off the car that has to screech to a halt to avoid running him over. 

“What?” Calum says, a touch shiftily. “Oh. Saw a good article in it. Wanted to finish reading it.” Liam throws him a look over the top of the car, a look that’s unnervingly shrewd, but then shakes his head and ducks into the car. Calum does the same, taking a moment to tuck the magazine into his pocket and feeling it weigh down one side of him, unbalancing him just slightly. It’s kind of apt, he thinks as he gets into the car. Michael had always made him feel a little unbalanced, too. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” Liam announces, and Calum grins, trying not to think about the way the magazine feels pressed between him and the seat. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” he agrees.

 -------

 Calum doesn’t look at the magazine again until a good week later. 

He’s drunk, and maybe still a little high, which is the driving force behind the whole evening. They all are, because Liam had scored some great coke off some guy called Neville, which Calum had declared to be the funniest dealer name in all of history, leading Bonehead to admit that his weed dealer used to be called Barnaby. Noel had sided with Calum, claiming Neville was far worse than Barnaby, and, predictably, Liam had jumped straight in on Bonehead’s side, and after about two minutes of shouting Tony had mumbled something about not being drunk enough for this and slipped out of the room. 

“Fucking useless,” Liam says derisively, as Tony walks out. “I should fire him.” 

“I fired you two days ago,” Noel says, pointing at Liam with the card he’s using to cut up the coke. “You can’t be firing anyone.” 

“It’s my fucking band,” Liam says, incensed, like it’s not actually Bonehead’s band that Liam had wheedled his way into. 

“Who writes the fucking songs?” Noel counters. “You just play the fucking tambourine and look mardy.” 

“Fucking greatest frontman in the world, I am,” Liam says indignantly. 

“You’re too fucking high to find the front of the stage half the time,” Noel says contemptuously. 

“I know where the front of the fucking stage is,” Liam says, pointing at Noel with one hand and Calum with the other. “‘S between knobheads numbers one and two.” Noel rolls his eyes, too busy cutting lines to flip him off, so Calum does it on both of their behalfs, and Liam grins, swigging from his beer. 

“Save us a fucking line,” Bonehead says to Noel, who’s just bent down to hoover up at least four of the thin white lines on the table. 

“Get your fucking own,” Noel grumbles, like he’s the one who’d scored it, not Liam, but he lets Bonehead push him aside, slumping back against the sofa. 

“Greedy cunt,” Bonehead mutters, and Noel swats him upside the head, handing him the card. 

“We should have a fucking celebration,” Liam declares grandly, gesturing widely with his beer bottle. 

“For what?” Noel says. “Album’s not even fucking finished yet.” 

“Sounds fucking great, though,” Liam says. 

“Well, you’ve clearly not heard it then, have you?” Calum says with a snort, accepting the card Bonehead holds out to him and leaning over towards the coke. There’s not much left, but Liam’ll fucking do one if he doesn’t leave any for him. “Fucking hell, Noel. You a fucking vacuum?” Noel just grins and shrugs at him, cocaine clearly starting to settle into his veins, and Calum rolls his eyes, cutting two thin lines for himself and leaving enough for the same for Liam. 

“It’ll sound great once it’s mixed,” Liam insists, as Calum bends down.  

“That’s what you said last time,” Bonehead points out. 

“No I fucking didn’t,” Liam says, even though he’d literally spent about a week bouncing around saying it’ll sound fucking great when it’s mixed, just you fucking wait. It’ll be fucking biblical. Calum straightens, wincing slightly and pinching the end of his nose, and throws Liam a look. 

“You fucking did,” he says. Liam scowls at him, and motions for the card. “Come over here. No way you’ll reach the coke from over there.” Liam rolls his eyes but complies, heaving himself up and then throwing himself down next to Calum, making a noise of outrage when he sees how little is left for him. 

“What the fuck, Noel?” he demands, and Noel just cackles. Christ, he’s blitzed out of his fucking mind already. 

“We should fucking celebrate,” Noel says, like he hadn’t shot down Liam saying it not two minutes ago. 

“Celebrate what, you prick?” Calum says, wrinkling his nose as the bitter cocaine drips down his throat. Fucking grim. At least his mouth will be too numb to taste it soon. 

“Fucking all of it,” Noel says. “Us. Recording an album. The fact that we’re going to be number fucking one.” Calum snorts, but he’s starting to feel a little giddy, a little warmer, and he leans back with a grin. 

“Number fucking one,” he repeats, and Liam nods solemnly next to him. 

“Fucking right,” he says, like it’s what they’re owed. Calum catches Bonehead’s eye and grins, knows he’s thinking exactly what Calum’s thinking - yeah, us two fucking deserve it for putting up with the both of you. 

“Just wait ‘til we release Supersonic,” Calum says, shuffling up a little to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arm comes around him, warm and comforting, and he squeezes Calum absent-mindedly as he hums contentedly. Calum lets his eyes flutter shut, euphoric and a little overheated, grinning to himself as he lets himself fantasise. Number fucking one, he thinks to himself. Fucking imagine. 

“Knock those Blur cunts off the top,” Noel says, and Calum’s eyes fly open. 

“What?” he says. 

“Their new song,” Noel says scornfully. “Fucking, what’s it? Girls who like boys who like girls who like boys, something like. Fucking shite.” 

“New song?” Calum echoes, mind trying to work around the cocaine to process what he’s being told. 

“Am I the only one who fucking listens to the radio?” Noel demands. “That’s our fucking competition, that is. We’ve got to knock them off the top spot.” 

“Competition,” Calum says slowly. Competition. Michael Clifford is his competition. 

And, fucking hell. Does Michael even know Calum’s his competition? Does Michael even know Calum’s in Oasis - does Michael even remember Calum? It’s been what, four fucking years now since the letters had petered out, since Calum had got too caught up in his new life of Liam and Noel and drugs and music and Michael had been too busy with his family and friends and the fucking police academy. Michael might not even recognise Calum, might not even remember his name. 

(Something tells him, though, even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, that they could never forget each other. After all, it says, who forgets their first kiss? Who forgets their first fuck? Who, it says, a little too knowingly for Calum’s liking, forgets their first love?) 

Liam seems to have sensed something’s up because he’s frowning, waving a hand in Calum’s face, and Calum blinks, shakes his head abruptly and sits bolt upright. He stopped loving Michael. He fucking did, no matter what the churning in his stomach might be telling him. That’s just the fucking booze.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Liam says, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t feel great,” Calum says, which isn’t entirely untrue. The high’s too high, and the alcohol’s making his stomach clench and contract, and he’s sweating a little too much, and his hands are clammy, and- 

“Oh, fucking hell,” he says, a little faintly, and lurches to his feet, crashing into the bathroom next door and only just making it to the toilet bowl before he’s throwing up everything he’d ingested in the previous twenty-four hours. He’s glad he’s still high because it means he can’t quite taste the bile in his throat, can’t entirely feel the way his stomach’s heaving that he distantly registers is going to absolutely fucking kill tomorrow. 

Halfway through his retching someone appears behind him, kneeling down beside him and rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. Calum feels fucking pathetic, slumped over the toilet bowl with tears leaking out of his eyes, someone making quiet, soothing sounds behind him, all because of fucking Michael Clifford. 

(That thought makes him retch once again.)

“Waste of fucking coke, that is,” the person says mildly when he’s finished, leaning up and flushing for him, and it’s Liam. Of course it’s Liam. No one else would willingly spend their short high in a tiny, cramped bathroom watching Calum throw up. Noel would probably lock him in and turn off the water supply, maybe grab a camcorder for good measure. 

Calum huffs out something that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds like more of a sob as he sits back, wipes his upper lip and forehead and rests his head against the cool tile wall. Liam sits down opposite him, legs pressed against Calum’s because they’re both too fucking big for the bathroom on their own let alone together, and blinks at him. 

“Fuck brought that on?” he says, more curious than anything. Calum’s stomach lurches again, images of Michael smiling at him sleepily on a Saturday morning, of Michael with his head tipped back in detention, laughing at something Calum had said, and the picture of him in the magazine, so much older and yet so fucking familiar, flashing through his mind in rapid succession. 

“Probably just overdid it,” he says weakly. Liam gives him a hard stare. 

“A fucking baby would’ve had a hard time getting high on what you snorted,” he says. 

“Baby wouldn’t’ve drunk five fucking beers beforehand, though,” Calum says, coughing slightly and wincing as he tastes the echo of acid at the back of his throat. 

“Depends whose baby it is,” Liam says. “Pretty sure mine would.” Calum snorts, and lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts to come back to himself a little, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself as he realises how cold he is. Fuck, he’s all clammy. Gross. 

Almost as though he can read Calum’s thoughts, Liam nudges Calum’s knee with his own. 

“You’re fucking rank,” he says. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, not opening his eyes. 

“Take a fucking shower.” Calum pulls a face. He’s not in the fucking mood to shower. 

“Tomorrow,” he says. It’s not like Liam’s never done the same. 

“You’re fucking rank, ” Liam tells him again, like he’d not thrown up in the sink two nights ago and left it there overnight, but he puts his hand on Calum’s shin and pats it, and Calum offers him a weak smile. 

“You don’t have to stay,” he says. 

“What, go back in there and listen to our kid break his neck sucking his own cock? Don’t fucking think so,” Liam scoffs. “I’ll be fucking sober in five minutes, anyway, given the amount of coke you pricks left me.” Calum smiles again, a little less wobbly this time. 

“Sober?” he says. “You drank twice as much as me.” 

“Not all of us are fucking Aussies, though, are we?” Liam says, and Calum can hear the grin in his voice. “Might as well be a fucking southerner, you.” That makes Calum open his eyes a fraction, enough to glare at Liam. 

“Piss off,” he says. “You and your fucking Irish blood. I’d drink anyone else under the fucking table.” 

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Never met anyone who could outdrink me, let alone an Aussie.”

“You’ve never met any except me, you prick,” Calum says, and Liam grins. 

“Well, most of you fuckers are smart enough to stay where it’s warm and sunny and the birds are fit, aren’t you?” he says. “Only the stupid ones end up here.” Calum scowls, and kicks at Liam’s leg half-heartedly. 

“Fuck off,” he says. “Didn’t choose to move here, did I? Got dragged kicking and screaming.” 

“But you’re still here,” Liam points out, and Calum finds he doesn’t have an answer to that. At least, he thinks, not one he’s willing to give Liam. 

“You must miss it,” Liam says when Calum doesn’t answer, a little surprised, like the thought’s only just crossed his mind after five fucking years of friendship. Which, knowing Liam, is probably the case. 

“Australia?” Liam hums his assent. “Dunno. I guess. I miss Vegemite.” He hesitates, before adding: “Mostly miss my mates, though.” 

“Oh?” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You still talk to them?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably. After all, it had been him that had ignored the last letter Michael had sent him. He’s the one who hadn’t written back. 

“No,” he says. “Phone calls are too expensive, and none of us are fucked writing letters.” 

“Ah, well,” Liam says, stretching out on the tiles and sighing contentedly. “Just you fucking wait ‘til we’re number one. You’ll see them then. We’ll be touring Australia three times a year, and that.” Calum can’t help but snort. 

“Three times a year?” he says. “There’s only five fucking cities worth playing in.” Liam grins. 

“And you’d better have friends in all of them, mate,” he says. “Not bloody paying for hotels if I can help it.” 

“My mates are all in Sydney,” Calum says, and there’s a little tug in his chest as he realises that actually, that might not be true anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Ashton and Luke, either. If Michael can go from police cadet in Sydney to fucking famous musician in the UK then Ashton and Luke are probably, like, astronauts, or something. Maybe he should check with the ASA. 

“What?” Liam says curiously, clearly seeing the expression on Calum’s face, and Calum hesitates.

He’s not sure whether he should tell Liam. What the fuck would he even say? My ex, sort of, is in the band Noel’s lining up as our competition? You know Blur? Yeah, I fucked one of the guitarists. Liam wouldn’t get it. Great, he’d say, eyes gleaming. Eeyar, you must have some good stories about him. You can embarrass him in the press. Or maybe, get in, mate. Infiltrate them, eh? Fucking good thought. Oi, that Damon’s alright, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll have it on with him. He wouldn’t understand the weight behind it, what Michael meant to Calum. Means to Calum. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore. 

“I think a mate of mine might have moved over here,” Calum says eventually, when Liam raises an expectant eyebrow. It feels fucking weird calling Michael a mate. The word doesn’t feel quite complete in his mouth, like maybe there should be a soul prefixing it. 

“Oh aye?” Liam says, raising his other eyebrow too, like he knows what Calum might mean by ‘mate’. “Where’s he living?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. Liam hums, like he’s thinking it over. 

“D’you want to know?” he says, in that strangely perceptive way he sometimes does. Calum shrugs, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the tension in his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Dunno. Depends.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Liam doesn’t ask him to. Instead, his emotional capacity probably filled for the night, he claps his hand on Calum’s thigh. 

“Want to see if we can get Noel to piss himself?” he says, eyes bright, and Calum can’t help but snort. 

“‘Course I fucking do,” he says, getting to his feet. Liam braces himself on the sink as he pulls himself up, a little unsteady, and grins. 

“Ten quid says he does,” he says, and Calum snorts. Noel had pissed himself once, three years ago, and Liam can’t fucking let go of it. 

“You don’t fucking have ten quid,” he says, following Liam out of the room, still feeling a little light-headed and woozy, but no longer nauseous. 

“Neither do you,” Liam counters, pushing open the door to the living room, and Calum has to concede there.

“How about the loser sucks the other’s dick, then?” he says, grinning, and Liam throws his head back as he laughs. 

“You’re on,” he says over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. 

“Who’s getting who to suck their dick?” Noel demands. 

“You’re helping me get Calum to suck my dick,” Liam tells him, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Noel and resting his head on Noel’s chest. Almost instinctively, Noel’s arm comes around him, holding him close. Calum could almost be fooled into thinking they’re in some sort of a truce, that the booze and cocaine have broken down the barrier of hatred between them and left only the underlying love, until Liam reaches forwards, picks up a bottle of beer and holds it to Noel’s lips with a wicked grin. 

“Drink up.”

taglist: @callmeboatboy @sadistmichael @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfukimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @makaylaa1113 

if you’d like to be added to my taglist (or taken off for this fic i really dont blame u) pls fill in this form! 

chapter two

[noonaduck]

SeXd (sex ed) pt.2

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader genre: Fluff,smut, non idol Au Warnings: some heated making out Words: 2993 A/N: At first I tought about adding more sexual things into this chapter but then i thought ‘‘Hey the reader is so new all to this so lets take it slow at first.’‘  IDK if the part 3 will be published as fast as two first ones. Summaray: Y/N is a woman who is inexperienced in anything when it comes to relationships and sex. Luckily her friend Jimin along with his six other friends decide to show her what she has been missing.  If you want to be tagged msg me or send ask. Starting from this point I won’t add you if you ask to be tagged in comments.

1. < 2. > 3. 

tags:  @lylanie12 @hopeivx @vannilacake @mina-messed-up  @lonely-hufflepuff @soularbangtan @all289854 @hobitoons @vanessalovesonedirection @bbjel 

[gifs belongs to their rightful owners]

You are tapping the table nervously while looking out from the window. You are waiting for Jungkook at small cafe who is supposed to take you to your first date. You have no idea what he had planned for you but he had said that you should wear something casual. After long debating between yourself you had ended up with blue hoodie and pair of jeans. Your hair was on loose ponytail and you had added only slightly make up, you were after all going for that natural look.  The cafe is empty except three other customers which you are grateful for. In your small meltdown its better that there isn't many witnesses. You felt excited and scared at the same time. There was seven amazing men and one plain you. Sometimes you wondered that did they see same person which you saw every time when you looked into mirror. You look impatiently passing people trough the glass and sipped your almost empty drink. You weren't huge fan of coffee so instead you were drinking mug of hot chocolate. ''I'm sorry that I'm late.'' Familiar voice startles you from your side. 

Jungkook had entered the cafe while you were looking out of the window deep in your thoughts. He looks unfairly good in his simple clothing. He is wearing black leather jacket over white v-neck shirt and pair of black jeans where is zippers on the sides. On his feet is plain black sneakers and lonely silver earring is hanging from his ear. ''It's okay. I haven't been waiting for long.'' You smile softly and Jungkook sits opposite of you. ''Good. It was kind of hectic at my workplace. My boss was breathing for my neck about some missed deadliness which I'm sure he hasn't even mentioned before.'' Jungkook sighs. Jungkook works at small accounting company and his boss is known his demanding nature. ''So, do you want to anything to drink or what you are planned for us?'' You ask while spinning your spoon in your mug nervously. ''There is no need. I will eat on the site of our date.'' Jungkook grins excitedly and rubs his hands together. ''We have one hour before we have to be there so take your time with your drink.'' You phone dings and you pick it out from your pocket. ''Do you mind if I look what was it?'' You gesture towards your phone. ''Go ahead, I don't mind.'' Jungkook assures you. You smile for thanks and open your message app to only notice that you have message from Jimin. Jimin: *I hope that you and Kookie will have good time :)* You: *Thanks, I'm kind of nervous.* Jimin: *Don't be, everything is going to be fine and if it isn't just message me anytime. If kookie even looks you wrong give me a call and I will come to rescue.* You:  *Haha, I'm sure that its not going to that.* Jimin: * Just making sure that you know I'm there for you* Jimin's last message makes you blush and Jungkook looks you curiously. ''What was it? Something nice?'' ''It was Jimin.''You admit smiling shyly. ''Oh, I see. I hope he didn't spoil anything to you.'' ''So he does know where we are going?'' You are turning more curious. ''Yep. Did you finish your drink?'' Jungkook asks and you take one last sip from your hot chocolate. ''All done.'' ''Good, let's get going then. We need to get a taxi so we be on time.'' Jungkook stand up and waits you to collect your jacket and purse. When you exit the cafe you are simmering for excitement. Luckily you are able to get a taxi quite fast and you sit into backseat. Jungkook gives the driver an address that sounds familiar to you but you can't still pinpoint where you have heard it before. Jungkook glances you nervously but sighs on relief when there isn't expression of knowledge on your face. The back seat feels small and it doesn't help how Jungkook's thigh rubs yours time to time. You are relieved when you finally get out of the car and into fresh spring air. Jungkook pays for the driver and you look curiously around. You are on the parking lot of the sports stadium. There is cars parked everywhere and mass of people is heading towards the doors. ''I hope that you like basketball.'' Jungkook smiles shyly when he sees your curious face. You spin around and face Jungkook who has came to stand next to you. ''I used to go watch my little brothers basketball games on his high school. I'm not expert of the sport but I found it quite enjoyable.'' You give Jungkook assuring smile and he seems relieved. ''Shall we go then?'' Jungkook asks and offers his hand to you which you instantly accept. You end up following steam of people and waiting your turn on the line. Jungkook's hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold has calming effect to you and feel like your insecurities are slowly fading into back round. When it is finally your turn to get in Jungkook hands your ticket for the man by the door. The lobby is full of excited people who are wearing merchandises of their favorite team. You frown when you notice that you and Jungkook are almost only ones who isn't wearing colors of their team. ''Don't worry. I left all my fan goods at home so I wouldn't ruin the surprise for you. If you like we can by something to support our team.'' Jungkook tells when he notices your glances towards the other basketball fans. ''Really?'' You ask excited. ''Wait which one of them we are supporting?'' You add soon awkwardly. Jungkook tells you the team's name and you head into line where you can buy items to support your choice. Jungkook buys scarf for you and pennant for himself even when you insisted that you could pay yourself. When you are done Jungkook lead you to your seats which are located right in front row. The noise of fans cheering for their favorite teams is deafening. ''Wow, I think that I have never had this good seats in any event.'' You are thrilled. ''Thanks for it belongs to my boss, as much as he can be ass sometimes he is good with his bonuses.'' Jungkook rubs his head awkwardly while blushing. ''Aww, you are so cute.'' You coo and his blush deepens. Jungkook coughs and changes the subject. ''There is about fifteen minutes before the game begins. I was thinking that we could go buy something to eat when half time comes. I know that hot dogs aren't the most fancy food, but I hope it is okay.'' ''Hot dogs sounds fine.'' You assure Jungkook. The audience has finally found their seats and chanting to their teams to come out. The stand darkens and loud music begins to play. Spotlights sweep on the ground when the teams come out followed by loud cheers. Even you and Jungkook join the screaming mass. You don't know what you had hoped for your first date, but you were pleasantly surprised for Jungkook's choice. A Judge blows the whistle and the game begins. The game pulls you's and Jungkook's attention completely and you cheer and boo in all the right parts. Even one point when the opposite team makes a score you both scream with red faces. You are having so much fun that you forgot to be nervous. Finally the half time comes and you and Jungkook head for the food stand. The line is long, but at least it moves fast. ''Do you know what you are going to get?'' You ask while standing on your tiptoes looking for pictures on top of the stand. There is basic hot dogs, sodas and other fast food options on display. ''I usually take the same thing, hot dog with spicy sauce and cucumber salad.'' Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. ''Maybe I should try it too.'' You agree and Jungkook grins widely to your words. ''I'm sure that you are gonna love it.'' Soon is your turn to order and you take bottles of coke with your food. You find free stand table and head towards it. You put your hot dog on the table and sip your drink. You take a first bite from your food and began to cough. Your mouth is on fire. ''This. Is. So. Hot.'' You wave your hand in front of your mouth even though it doesn't actually  help you. ''Are you okay? Is it too spicy for you, I can get something else for you if you want...'' Jungkook frowns his brows worriedly. ''No, its okay. I was just surprised that all. I knew that the hot dog would be spicy, but not this spicy.'' You grin. Jungkook looks you insecure at first but his frown turns as smile when you keep assuring him. ''I'm glad that Jimin was right when he told me that you like basketball.'' Jungkook says and takes a bite from his food. You don't know how someone eating can turn you on. You look enchanted how his mouth moves when he chews his food or how his lips turn even redder caused by the spicy food. ''Y/N, did you hear what I said?'' Jungkook smirks, he surely had noticed your stare. You blush and clear your throat. ''I didn't know that he had told you about it.'' ''well I asked what kind of interests you have so I could plan an evening which you would enjoy.'' Jungkook tells shyly. You feel so happy, never has a guy gone so far that they would have tried to get to know you better, at least not intending to make sure that you are enjoying yourself. You smile widely and reach for Jungkook's hand which is resting on the table.  ''Thank you.'' You smile gratefully. Atmosphere is changing from light and happy for something entirely different. You never knew that someone being thoughtful towards you could be huge turn on. ''Do you want to learn something new today?'' Jungkook asks his voice low. ''What you want to teach me?'' You are curious. Your first tough has that he wanted to tell something about basketball but his eyes were telling a different story. ''I will teach you how to kiss properly. I know that you kissed Jimin, but you both were drunk and I doubt that you did it correctly'' You feel heat rising inside of you when you quickly agree to his offer.        Jungkook leads you towards the restrooms and you look him surprised. When he sees your confused face he explains. ''Half time is over soon and everyone will be focused to the game so there wont be people hanging around the restroom.'' Indeed every person who you are passing by is hurrying back towards their seats. Jungkook pulls you inside of ladies room, which is empty for your luck, and heads into the furthest restroom booth.Luckily there isn't stalls where everyone could look under or even over if they were tall enough or standing on toilet seats. Instead the restroom was full of those small rooms where was small sink alongside of the toilet seat. Jungkook pushes you in gently and locks the door behind of him. The booth is small and you both are barely able to fit in at the same time. And still Jungkook is capable to spin you around and pull you to sit top of him on closed toilet seat. You are so close to him that you can hear his beating heart. You are glad to know that you aren't only one who is affected. ''So, what I do next?'' You finally break the heavy silence. Jungkook seems to shake himself from his thoughts before he answers. ''At first put your arms around my neck.'' You obey him fast, at least the first step is easy. ''Lean closer, good. Then tilt your head little on to other side and... well its best that I demonstrate the next part.'' Jungkook takes hold of your hips and tilts his head to opposite way which you are. Jungkook comes closer and the distance gets even smaller between you. Your hear is beating faster and your hands are getting sweaty. His breath smells like cherries when he finally kisses you. The kiss begins slow and Jungkook moves his lips softly against yours. You are insecure what to do at first but try to mimic his lips movements. You seem to be doing quite well when his hold on your waist tightens. Jungkook parts from you and looks you with indecipherable eyes. ''Second step is when I'm going to kiss you again, open your mouth slightly.'' Jungkook pushes his lips back to yours before you are able of answer. You can hear cheers of basketballs fans somewhere in far distance. You part your lips like Jungkook told and his pink tongue comes to explore your lips. He licks your lower lip and your breath hitch on your throat. For your surprise Jungkook's tongue slips inside of your mouth. Surely you know hot to kiss in theory, but still his actions caught you of guard. His tongue explores your mouth following your teeth and searching trough your mouths roof. You feel Jungkook hardening in his pants. You are first to pull away and look him with wide eyes. Sure you felt already hot and bothered, but Jungkook hardening under you came in shock.

''Don't worry we don't have to do anything to it. I would never force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.'' He assures you when he sees your worried eyes.  Jungkook pushes curl of hair, which has escaped from your ponytail, behind of your ear. Even though his face is hungry his movements are slow. ''Is there any other steps that I can learn about kissing?'' You ask shyly by Jungkook's surprise. ''You can always do the actions to your partner which I have taught you, but there is one another step we can try.'' His cheeks are covered in light tint when he says this. Opening bathroom door surprises you and soon nearby bathroom stall's door is shut. Someone is in the bathroom while you two are practicing kissing. You freeze and Jungkook notices your distress.  ''Or we can stop here and return to watch the game. I believe that there is at least twenty minutes left.'' ''What the last step is?'' ''Are you sure? We can stop Y/N.'' Jungkook looks you worriedly. You are tired of not knowing anything and you don't surely want to stop on half way. ''I'm sure.'' You look back to Jungkook with so much of determination that he finally agrees. ''Last step is making out.'' He finally tells. You hear someone leaving the bathroom booth and washing their hands. ''How making out is different from kissing?'' ''Well Kisses can be quite innocent, but when it comes to making out it usually includes lot of touching. I'm not talking about gentle sweeps of other person's cheek, I'm talking about hot hands wandering along others body.'' Jungkook words makes heat rise to your face and you feel more than slightly turned on. ''I want to try that.'' You admit quietly. ''O-okay.''Jungkook  is turning red as well. ''So basically we kiss like I did teach to you and touch each others bodies. If I make you uncomfortable at any point let me know.'' Soon you are kissing again and this time you follow Jungkook's lips with your tongue. He parts them gently and let's you take a lead. You slip your tongue into his mouth when his large hands starts to wander on your body. At first his actions are rather innocent and his hands move along your sides. You pet his neck hair with your fingers which are still dangled to his neck. You deepen the kiss and then Jungkook grins against your core. You gasp out loud but don't stop kissing him which Jungkook takes as a green light. He repeats his actions and soon his hands find hem of your shirt. His hands feel warm against your skin and you tighten your grip on his hair. Jungkook moans gently when you tuck his hair too hard by accident. Interesting that he has a hair pulling kink you note to yourself. Jungkook's had reaches higher and soon his fingers touches hem of your bra. You pull apart panting for air and you look each other breathing heavily.

''More.'' You demand filled with lust from the man. ''More what?'' Jungkook struggles little when he tries to find his voice. ''Touch me more.'' You pull himself again into another kiss. Jungkook obeys and soon he squeezes your breast top of your bra. Your hand begins to slide along his torso and small gargle sound leaves from his throat. Jungkooks free hand starts to wander towards your pants and when he is about to open the button of your pants loud cheering disturbs you. ''I'm so happy that we won.'' Cheerful female voice says and soon the bathroom is filled with chattering voices. You part away with wide eyes. The game must have ended.

Jimin is laughing his ass of to your story. ''So you had to wait basically and hour in small restroom booth until you were able to leave.'' ''It's not so funny. I was scared to death that someone will break in and find us in such situation.'' You sulk and poke your salad with your fork. You are at the theaters break room during your lunch break when Jimin has insisted that you tell him about your date.  He had hear some details from Jungkook but he wanted still hear your version. Jimin leans closer to you and you can't help but glance towards his lips. ''So did you learn anything?'' He asks with low voice. You are sure that he knew but wanted you to admit it yourself. ''I learned proper way of kissing.'' You admit whispering. You and Jimin gain few curious stares from your coworkers when you are so close together but you both ignore them. ''I'm sure that there is going to be other thing to learn on your next dates.'' Jimin smirks and pulls away. ''Like what?'' You are curious. ''You'll see, you'll see.'' Jimin refuses to let anything on.