#no really she stretched immediately after this pic was taken in a way that put her butt over the edge of the table

[master-of-47-dudes]

Pictures taken moments before disaster

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

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“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

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“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

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“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

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Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[breanime]

Bre’s Boys Picture Preference: Boy Dads

Disclaimer: None of these babies belong to me, they are Instagram babies!

(With a surprise Bonus Boy!)

Billy Russo: Billy never, not in a million years, imagined himself with a family--let alone with a child. Especially after his...accident. Every glance in the mirror was a sharp reminder of Billy’s mistakes, of his failings, of the fact that he was a parentless monster that no one could ever love. And then you came. And he fell in love. He was terrified when he learned you were pregnant, terrified of the awesome responsibility that came with it, and the closer the due date got, the more specific his fears got. Namely, the fear that his child would look at his face and all of the scars that were on it...and be afraid. But he wasn’t. Your son adored his father; his sweet little face would light up in a toothless smile at the sight of Billy’s face. Billy loved having a son; he loved dressing him up in his comfortable little clothes, he loved his son’s high pitched giggle, he loved the way his son held onto his fingers, trying to wobble his way through his first steps, but most of all... He loved that your son wasn’t afraid of him. From day one, the scars on Billy’s face never bothered the baby. In fact, the day he was born, when Billy first held his son, the baby reached up, eyes still closed, and touched Billy’s face. Billy had flinched, sure that the jagged edges of his scars would hurt the freshly created tiny hand, but all his son did was whine and reach out again until Billy leaned forward and let him touch his face again. And then, in that moment...Billy witnessed his baby boy’s first ever smile, and from then on, he was greeted with that smile every time his son saw his face--his reddened, scarred up face--and every time... Billy smiled back, heart full. 

Logan Delos: As far as Logan was concerned, he spawned the most gorgeous baby the world had ever seen. He could stare at your son all day long and never get tired of it. “Look at that face,” he’d gush as your son spit up on him, “That’s the face of an angel!” It got to the point that you wouldn’t even be surprised anymore when you came home to see Logan, dressed to the nines, with a camera in his hands and your son positioned in a basket, posing. Even as a baby, Logan’s son was always camera ready. “Okay,” you said, putting your purse down and coming to stand beside Logan, looking down at your perfect little bundle in his fleece-lined cashmere onesie, “I get that he’s all dressed up for his modeling gig, but why are you wearing a suit?” “He likes when we dress up together,” Logan answered, snapping a pic as he spoke, “We have a ritual, it’s a whole thing.” You laughed, leaning your head on Logan’s shoulder as you looked down at your baby boy. He had his father’s dark, enchanting eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile as he waved a tiny little fist at you. You noticed that he only waved when he knew Logan was in-between clicks. He was as much of a diva as his Dad. “Okay, okay, enough,” you reached into the basket and picked your son up, kissing his soft cheeks, “How is my baby boy? Huh? Did you have a fun day being an Instagram model with Daddy?” Your son answered you with a happy gurgle, reaching over to Logan--to the camera. You and Logan both laughed, and you rolled your eyes. “Seriously?” You asked, looking over at your son. “He wants to see the results,” Logan came over to you, showing you both the camera, “Here, son, I’ve already picked out my top ten favorites, but this one I think will look good with a nice, soft filter.” You watched, laughing, as your son eagerly stretched in your arms to see the pictures. He really was so much like his father. 

Jax Teller: The Teller smirk had to be genetic. Because when you looked at your Old Man, that smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorway, and when you looked at your son--you saw that same smirk. He had Jax’s eyes too, shimmering, crystal eyes that could make anyone melt--even Grandma Gemma. “What?” You deadpanned, frowning at them both. Your son stood almost as tall as Jax’s knees now, and he crossed his arms just like his father did above him. “I know you two are up to something,” you went on, trying and failing to keep your growing smile at bay, “So what? What do you want?” Your son looked up at Jax, and you watched them have a silent conversation with their blue eyes--as they often did. Finally, they both looked back at you. “So, darlin’,” Jax began, “we were thinking...” “I doubt it,” you drawled with a smirk, “but go on.” “And well...” “Me and Dad think you should let us have breakfast for dinner.” You paused, confused. “Let you? Why would I stop you?” In an instant, a matching grin grew on both of your boys’ faces. “See?” Jax said, looking down at your son. “I told you she’d be down for it!” Your son pumped his fist eagerly. “Yes! Pancakes for dinner!” You laughed, getting up and following them into the kitchen. “You know I’m not cooking a whole breakfast by myself, right?” You asked. Jax laughed, coming up behind you to smack your ass just as your son reached out and kissed the back of your hand--charmers, both of them. “I got egg duty,” Jax announced, going to the fridge. “I can make orange juice! Grandma showed me how!” You watched them move around the kitchen, smiling proudly at your two boys. They were so much alike and brought so much joy to your heart. Truly, they were best friends as much as father and son, and you knew, as your baby boy continued to grow, you’d have another SAMCRO member on your hands. But you also knew, as dangerous as that life could be, that he would always be safe and taken care of, as long as you and Jax were alive. And even when you were both gone, you were confident that you were raising a smart, thoughtful young man, and you knew--while he would, of course, make mistakes--that he would always do his best to protect his family and friends. After all, it was in his genes. 

Coco Cruz: You didn’t know how it happened (okay, you did know: sex), but suddenly, you and Letty were outnumbered. You and Coco had three sons, and just like Coco, they had big ass hair. “Who’s hair is this?!” Letty screamed, brushing hair off of the couch. Coco was on the floor with the boys, teaching them how to build a campfire with stuffed animals and pillows. Your youngest son, who was almost a year old, was more interested in throwing the toys around then the pretend campfire, but still. “It’s probably yours,” Coco answered, grabbing the stuffed lion your youngest son had just thrown and handing it back to him. “No, this is the hair of an inconsiderate MAN,” Letty grumped, hands on her hips. “It’s gotta be one of yours,” you added, “no one sits in that spot but you and the boys.” “I like that spot,” your second son said brightly, his perfect face framed by a huge, curly ponytail, “It’s the best vantage point in the whole living room.” “Yeah,” your oldest son replied, nodding, “You can see the whole room and the you can see the window.” “Remember,” Coco said, picking the baby up and bouncing him on his knee, “The best viewpoint is the one where you see everything, but no one sees you.” “Right,” your second oldest nodded, coping his big brother with the gesture, “You’re s’posed to be secreto, yeah?” Letty rolled her eyes at the antics of her brothers. “Yeah, okay--so what about the hair on the couch, huh? Which one of you snipers-in-training didn’t clean up after himself?” “Not me!” The boys and Coco all yelled at once. The baby also screeched out “baaaaaah”, which you took to be a denial of his guilt as well. “I swear,” you sighed, sitting on the loveseat, smiling at your boys, “I’m just gonna sneak into your beds at night and cut off all your hair.” “No!” The boys all cried out--even the baby (”no” was his new favorite word). Coco laughed, looking over at you, “Come on, baby, we’ll do better, won’t we, mijos?” He turned back to the boys, who all met him with wide, innocent eyes and eager nods, making you laugh. Letty laughed too, plopping down on the once-hair infested couch. “I swear, it’s like you four all share the same braincell,” she paused, looking around, “Huh... This actually is a good spot--” her words were interrupted by your second oldest boy chucking a stuffed duck at her. “You gotta be aware of all your surroundings!” “Dude--” she started. “You too, Mami!” Your oldest son added, throwing a pillow at you so hard, you almost fell off of the loveseat. The boys (and Letty) all erupted in laughter, and you fake glared at your boys. Their response was immediate and, of course, in stereo. “My bad!”

Angel Reyes: “This dude here,” Angel grinned, looking down at your son, “Like.. look at him! Why you got so much sauce, man?” He asked. Your son didn’t answer, he was too busy posing and looking cool. You were nearly in tears, you were laughing so hard. The three of you had decided to walk down to Felipe’s shop, and since it was a bit chilly out, you put a hat on your son and suddenly he was just too damn cool. Angel looked down at your baby boy, grinning wide as he watched your son lean against a building, hands in his pockets. “Papi, stop laughing,” your son said, his little voice making your heart melt, “Momma, take a picture of us!” You laughed, taking out your phone, “Okay, papi, stand right there next to Daddy,” you opened the camera app and felt your heart flip in your chest when you saw them through the lens. Your son was purposefully standing with his hands in his pockets, just like Angel was, and as eager as he was for this photo, he couldn’t hide the smile on his little face. You took a couple of pictures (at one point, they stood back to back with their arms crossed), and laughed as you did. Your boys were so full of life, the physical embodiment of joy. Everyday with your husband and your son was a blessing, so full of laughter and love. You knew what Angel’s childhood had been like, how he’d always thought of himself as the ill-favored son, and you knew he made sure his son never felt unwanted. Your baby boy was the prince of the Reyes family; beloved and cherished and treasured (and okay, maybe a wee bit spoiled), and he knew his Daddy loved him more than anything else in his life because Angel told him every single day. You pocketed your phone and watched as your son reached up for Angel’s hand, and the image of your husband’s big, strong hand carefully holding your baby boy’s had your heart clenching. There was nothing more beautiful than seeing the love between your two boys. Your son looked over at you, a smile--that Angel smile--on his round little face, and held out his other hand. “Come on, Momma, Abuelo is old, we can’t make him wait!” You laughed, taking his hand, and kept walking, you and Angel on either side of your son, your little prince. And you couldn’t be happier. 

Miguel Galindo: Miguel had several body guards on hand, a security team, a nanny, and Nestor at his disposal at all times, and yet when it came to buckling your baby boy into the car, only Miguel could do it. “Okay, let’s make sure we’re safe,” Miguel said cheerfully as he strapped your son into his car-seat, pulling at the straps to make sure they were secure, “Daddy isn’t going anywhere until he knows you’re safe.” Your son smiled up at his father, babbling sweetly at him. You sat next to the car-seat, watching Miguel interact with your son. You loved how protective he was of him; Miguel was a man of wealth, and as such, he had his share of enemies, but as time had gone on, and the Galindo businesses stared going legit, the list of enemies got smaller and smaller. Still, you preferred the cautiousness over recklessness, especially when it came to the safety of your family. “What do you think, mijo?” Miguel asked as he got into the car, nodding at the security guard who closed the door behind him. “Should we stop by the ice cream shop on the way home from picking up your brother from school?” Your baby giggled, clapping his hands excitedly at the mention of ice cream, and you and Miguel laughed. “Sounds like a yes,” you said, reaching over to run a finger against your son’s smooth, chubby cheek. Miguel leaned forward for a moment, directing the driver to start moving, before sitting back and smiling over at you and your son. He reached out and smoothed down your son’s hair; it had the same natural curly swoop Miguel’s hair did. “He’s getting big,” he said, “You think it’s time to get a new car-seat?” You smiled, watching as your son reached up and took hold of Miguel’s finger, always happy to be close to his dad. “He’s got another few months in this one,” you answered, “Although it might be time to get a new baby wrap-around. The one you have is starting to get worn out.” “Yeah, that’s cause this one likes to hang off my chest while I work. I’m telling you, he’s gonna be a shrewd businessman, this one!” You both laughed. Miguel adored being close to your son and did everything he could to avoid putting him down. So the head of the Galindo cartel would strap his youngest son to his chest as he handled business and called the shots, because as much of a boss as your husband was, he was powerless when it came to his kids--and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Nick Amaro: It had been a long day for Nick. As much as he loved his job, as much as he loved helping and protecting others, it could be incredibly draining. He’d just closed a case he and the squad had been working for a month, and while justice had been served, and Nick was happy with the results, it had taken a lot out of him. The things he saw, the horrific stories, the disgusting perps--it was a lot. Plus he’d been forced to work long days and long nights, and Nick hated being away from you and the kids. So when he came home early in the morning, fresh off of a 12 hour shift, he was ready to give you and the kids a quick kiss in your beds before going to sleep himself. But when he opened the door to your house, he was greeted with soft Cubano music and the best sound of all--his baby boy’s precious laugh. Immediately, before Nick had even stepped fully through the door, a smile grew on his face. It was early, but apparently the baby was wide awake, which of course meant you were wide awake. Nick walked over to the corner of the couch, where your son was sitting up, wearing his favorite bear bib, and laughing at the sight of his little black shoes. “Don’t tell me you pulled another all-nighter?” Nick asked him as he bent over and picked him up. He was immediately greeted with slobbery kisses and sticky fingers pulling at his ears, but Nick didn’t mind. In fact, he loved it. Just by hearing his son’s laugh and holding him in his arms, Nick’s mood had already improved. “He slept through the night, actually,” you answered from your spot in the kitchen, “Which is why he’s the first one up. Zara had a nightmare, so she’s sleeping in our bed, and I let Gil have a few extra hours on the tablet last night, so he’s knocked out.” Nick nodded, kissing your son right on his adorable little dimple. “And so you woke up to help Mama with breakfast, huh? What a gentleman,” he teased. Your baby boy laughed, and Nick laughed back. His son was always happy, always eager for a cuddle and happy to be held, and he just brought so much joy to Nick’s life. You and the kids were everything to Nick; you were why he did what he did. He wanted to make sure the world was as safe as he could make it for his family, and as he looked down at his grinning baby boy and listened to his sweet laugh, he knew his son would grow up to be good. And that was all Nick could ever hope for. 

Johnny Tuturro: “Me ready!” Your son announced, coming into the living room with his overalls on, toddling towards you and Johnny. You laughed, and Johnny crouched down to be at eye level with his son. “I think you forgot something, man,” he said, affectionately poking him in his cheek. “No I not! Me ready! Me ready for beach!” Your son argued, his dark brown eyes shining with mischief just like your husband’s. “You did a good job with your hair,” you said, ignoring the trail of moisturizing oil, combs, and brushes your baby had left in the hallway when he did his hair, “and you look so cute in your overalls.” “Tank you for helping with the buttons,” he said, giving you that Tuturro smile that had you ready to give him everything he ever wanted. “You’re welcome, baby,” you cooed back. “But we can’t go to the beach till you’re all ready, big man,” Johnny added, he pointed to his son’s teeny tiny little feet, “Shoes.” Your son gasped, slapping his little hands on either side of his face in total shock. He screeched, waddling off to grab a pair of shoes from the rack, and you and Johnny laughed. An expert father, Johnny sat on the floor and let your son plop down into his lap, holding his shoes and socks in his fat little hands. “Help me peas,” he said, looking up at his dad. Johnny bent down and kissed the top of his head, taking the socks and putting them on your son’s feet--a pretty impressive feat seeing as how your son was incapable of not swinging his feet. You leaned against the wall, a smile on your face, as you watched them together. Johnny was telling your son that they’d play in the water until the sun went down, and your son clapped his hands excitedly. They were both beach bums, your son having inherited his love of the water from Johnny. “Okay,” Johnny slipped the first tiny shoe on, “let’s practice our colors. What color is this?” He pointed to the shoes. “Black!” “Good job! How about Mommy’s shoes. What color are those?” “Mommy’s shoes white!” “Yeah, white! What color is the ocean?” “The ocean blue!” He answered, and Johnny rewarded him by picking him up and spinning him around, “That’s right, big man! You’re so smart! Just like your Mommy!” Holding your baby boy with one hand and taking your hand in the other, Johnny grinned, “Okay, let’s go!” You walked into the sunshine with your own two lovable sources of sunshine, all three of you smiling and excited for another perfect day. 

Rio: For you, bathtime was war. Your son was a tiny tyrant, displeased with every part of the procedure. He screamed because the water was too cold, and then when you added hot water to it, he whined at the added heat. He tossed the bath toys you provided him, crying because they weren’t the ones he wanted that night. He splashed at the water angrily, tried of being in the tub, and then when you took him out, he kicked his fat little feet and yelled cause he wanted to play in the water. To be clear, he was a sweet baby most of the time, but bathtime turned him into a little monster. Unless Daddy was bathing him. You stood by the sink, arms crossed, pretending to be offended as you watched Rio bathe your son. Rio was on his knees next to the tub, one hand on your son’s back, steadying him in his little baby tub, the other pushing along a toy boat--that your son had chucked at you in annoyance not five minutes before--and making your son laugh. “Okay, time to rinse off,” Rio said, taking a cup and pouring it over your son, who just giggled at the action, “Yeah, now we’re alllll clean,” Rio sang. You bit back a smile as you watched your husband pick your son up. Your son reached for the tattoo on Rio’s neck and tickled it, making all three of you laugh. Rio sat him down on a towel on the sink, and you leaned in, pressing your nose into the fatness of his neck, sniffing that sweet, clean baby smell on his soft, smooth skin. “God, this is like crack,” you sighed. Rio chuckled as you stepped back, and he covered your son’s head with a fluffy brown towel. “I don’t know why you be telling lies on my son,” he joked, “he was an angel this whole time.” “You’ve seen how he gets when I bathe him! He only likes when you do it, it’s crazy!” You huffed. Rio leaned over and kissed your son’s chubby cheeks a good hundred times, coaxing another round of laughs out of the baby. “That’s cause bathtime is boy’s time,” he said, his voice muffled by your son’s cheeks, “Ain’t that right, son?” Rio stood up and turned to you, kissing your cheek as well. “And bedtime is Mommy time,” he whispered, his voice low, “matter of fact... let’s get this boy in his crib so I can wipe Mommy down and rinse her off...” You laughed at the innuendo...and then hurried to grab your son’s pajamas--bedtime couldn’t come quick enough. 

Bonus Boy 

EZ Reyes: Felipe and Angel both agreed that your son was exactly like EZ was when he was a kid: friendly, inquisitive, adventurous. EZ joked that he was always just a little nerd, but when you watched him with your son, you could see that inquisitive spirit in EZ bursting through. “What do you think,” EZ asked, crouching down next to your son as he patted the bark on a tree at the park, “is this a good tree?” “Good tree!” Your son repeated, looking over at his Dad. EZ smiled, and you could see every woman within a 10 mile radius collectively swoon at the sight of him (the smile, the arms, the EVERYTHING) next to your incredibly adorable baby boy. Hell, even you weren’t immune; you indulged in a quick little swoon yourself. “Papi, tree big!” Your son reported, stepping back and looking up at the tree, his little head reared back. EZ held your son steady with a hand on his little back; EZ’s hand was just about the width of your son’s back. “Yeah, it is,” EZ agreed, nodding, “You know, the older a tree is, the bigger is is. So this is probably a very old tree.” Your son’s jaw dropped, nodding in awe, “Wowwwwwww.” You sat on the bench and watched as your boys walked around the park, examining the various trees and plants. Your son would point to something and look up at EZ, who would start spewing off any and every fact he knew about the object, impressing the hell out of your baby boy. You loved watching them like this; you loved your son’s curious nature, and you were so happy and proud that EZ not only supported it, but helped nurture it as well. As you watched them walk around the park in their own little world, hand in hand, you felt a strong sense of love come over you. This was your family. They were yours, and you were theirs, and you loved them both so much, and they loved you. You put your hand over your stomach, a small smile pulling at your lips as you thought of your little secret. They loved you...and they would love this next little one just as much. 

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[nereol]

Late, Late At Night

A Val (fem-streetkid-V) / Kerry feat. jealous Johnny one shot (words: 1834), post Holdin’ On: “need a power nap - wanna join me?”

You can read this on AO3 or on my WorldAnvil page (with pics, music and other stuff).

"Uhm..." Kerry looks down at her slightly frowning. "You two talked again?" Val sighs in annoyance. "More like 'we argued again'." Kerry can't help but grin. "He was always good at that." Val's still avoiding Kerry eyes. "He's such a dick." She sighs again. "Well" Kerry chuckles. "Can't deny that." That's when Johnny starts talking again from across the room. "Fine, just talk about me as if I weren't here, af if I were..." But Val interrupts him without looking at him. She knows exactly what he just wanted to say. "Johnny, you ARE dead."

platonic or romantic, can be read as pre-relationship

Val's head aches and she sighs while walking up the stairs in Kerry's mansion. Giving Johnny control was exhausting. The fact that he drank a lot doesn't help either. She rubs her temple with one hand. 'Why does my cheek feel like I've taken a punch?' She grimaces as she strokes the right side of her face. "'Cause Ker slapped me... you..." Johnny's Voice in her head and she sighs. Kerry's lying in his bed on two thick pillows his hands folded behind his head. And legs spread wide, still wearing just briefs and his bathrobe, and Val has to pull herself together not to stare at his crotch. He doesn't look at her, when she walks over to him.

"Feel like shit, too?" Val stops next to his bed. "Nah, need a power nap." Then Kerry's looking at her with a slight smirk. "Wanna join me?" Johnny appears glitching immediately standing with his arms crossed by the other side of the bed. "Let's go V. He's joking." He sounds annoyed. When does he not...

Val's answering him in her thoughts. "Ya sure about this?" She smirks. "I don't think so." Johnny looks at her, aviators on she can't see his eyes, but looks like he's pissed. "Oh, you won't..." But Val interrupts him. "Oh, I will!" She answers firmly. "I'm tired as fuck, I won't drive all over the city right now." "You can't be serious!" Johnny's voice is loud now and stares at Val from across the bed. "You aren't long enough in my head to know exactly that I am?" She stares back at him and Johnny turns around runs his hand over his face groaning.

"Uh... V? You okay?" She's almost forgotten Kerry's still there, lying on his bed between them. "What... yes" She looks at Kerry who's looking at her frowning. "You're starring into space." Kerry looks more or less at Johnny or just where Val's looking before, because of course he can't see Johnny. "Oh, I..." Val sighs and avoids Kerry's eyes. "I just talked to Johnny." "To..." Kerry takes a moment to think about that. "In your thoughts?" "Yeah..." Val shrugs and her gaze follows Johnny as he paces up and down the room. "...kinda."

Kerry looks confused. "That's... weird." "Yeah, it's even weirder that I can tell ya 'bout it..." She looks at Kerry. "That you know he's there." Then she start so take off her steel-toe boots. "He say's you're joking." "What are you..?" Kerry eyes her. "Joking 'bout what?" Val takes off her socks and stuffs them into her boots before looking at Kerry with a smirk. "About joining you, takin' a nap." "Uhm..." Kerry isn't sure about it himself, whether it was just a joke.

"You know what." She takes off her jacket. "I don't care if it was a joke. I'm fucking tired." She drops her jacket at the floor next to her boots. Kerry looks at her a bit puzzled, eyebrows raised. Then his gaze falls on her chest, where the outlines of her pierced nipples show through her tank top. Val's hands are at the zipper of her pants now. "Are you kidding me?" Johnny shouts from across the room. Val ignores him, opens her pants.

"What..." Kerry looks at Val's hands. "...are ya doin'?" "Oh, I'll not sleep in this. Not exactly comfortable." She answers casually. "You're just wearing briefs, Kerry. I keep myself from staring at your crotch constantly." She smirks at him before she starts to pull down the tight pants. "So it's just fair play." Kerry swallows. He's usually not shy, has seen enough in his life. But Val is a lot. Pants half way down Val looks at him, bent forward. "Besides, I'm supposed to be your new output, right?" She winks at him and then winces a little when Johnny's yelling again. "You heard that?!" He sounds startled, his voice almost cracks.

"You..." Kerry's gaze is on her chest again. Bent forward her boobs are near to completely exposed by the loose neckline. Kerry swallows hard and puts himself together. "You've heard us?" Val steps out of her pants, which are lying on the floor now. "Bits 'n' pieces." She shrugs. That's when Kerry sees the tattoo on her right arm. 'Johnny + V' in a heart. Val can see confusion and disbelief in Kerry's face and follows his gaze. "Oh..." She raises her arm a little. "That's..." She sighs and shakes her head slightly. "That's what happend when I gave him control the first time." "You..." Kerry stares at the ink still in disbelief. "You're telling me, that Johnny..." He's speechless. Val shrugs again. "At least it's small enough to cover it up with something... better." "What!?" Now it's Johnny who's looking at Val in disbelief, frowning and his eyes are going back and forth between her face and the tattoo.

Val's still ignoring him and now just in panties and her loose top she sits down at the edge of Kerry's bed. "Move a lil'." She turns around to look at Kerry. "Well, unless you want me to snuggle up." She winks and Kerry shifts a little. Johnny stands with his back to the bed and his arms crossed in front of his chest looking out of a large window. "Letting Johnny take control is just fucking exhausting every time." Val stretches her arms and yawns. "I wouldn't want to drive all the way to Watson right now." She looks at Kerry and smiles. "So, thanks."

"No problem." Kerry eyes her as she shifts down a bit more, stealing a pillow from him and is getting comfortable. "Just so you know..." She rolls over, one arm under her pillow and looks up to Kerry with a smirk. "I'll probably cuddle up after I fall asleep." Kerry chuckles low. "Oh, I don't mind." Val can hear Johnny's groaning, but ignores him. "Well..." An evil grin on her lips. "We could cuddle now." Kerry isn't quite sure if she's joking. But based on how he's gotten to know her in the last few minutes, she's probably serious.

Johnny has turned around, continuing to rant. "Seriously? Out of all people, Ker? V, you're just..." He runs his hand over his face and Val props herself up a little, to look at him. Kerry follows her gaze but of course he can't see Johnny so he looks at Val from the side as she frowns in annoyance. "There are enough other people in this city." Johnny's voice is loud again. "...not that ya didn't know, you already fucked about half of 'em!" He gesticulates with his arms.

Val remains unimpressed and looks at him annoyed. "Since it seems to bother you so much -" Her voice is calm. "Should I take beta blockers?" "Hell no!" Johnny's answer comes quickly. Val cocks an eyebrow. "So... am I gettin' it right? Usually you complain when I didn't take some and ya telling me how terrible it is being stuck in my head cause you 'have to witness how I'm fucking everyone who can't flee fast enough'." She emphasizes the last part.

Johnny winces a little, because Val's remembered his words, words he said just weeks ago. "You remember..." He mumbles, but she pays no attention, keeps talking to him through her thoughts.. "But now, out of all moments, I'm not allowed to take some beta blockers." Her voice is still calm but she looks angry. "Ya afraid leavin' me alone with 'im or what?" Johnny says nothing, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

As she continues she sounds mad. "I just let ya alone with him. I trusted you with that. Even after what ya did the first time!" She groans. "Ya jealous or what?" "I'm..." Johnny's about to answer when he falls silent, realizing he has no idea how to answer. She's right, she trusted him. But jealous? Who of exactly? It was he who kinda introduced her to Kerry - and definitely not to fill a blank space on her long list of crushes. Hell no - Ker is old enough to be her grandpa... and he's one of very few people knowing about Johnny and the relic. And one of even fewer people who really knew him. Thinking 'bout it - the only person besides Rogue. Leaving Val alone with him... with him of all people.

Fragments of his thoughts appear in Val's mind, but she can't figure them out. She feels annoyance and anger - are those her feelings or his? Confusion - clearly hers and his. And... a hint of jealousy, somewhere at the very back, as if he were pushing it away. Val frowns and tries to ignore his thoughts and feelings. She's not going to ask him about it. He has to figure that out for himself, that's his problem and not hers.

"What? You have nothin' to say anymore?" Val's angry voice interrupts his thoughts and Johnny startles a little, looking at her with a frown. She's right, he has no idea, what to say. His own thoughts are confusing him. "Whatever." Val speaks out loud and turns away from Johnny, lies down again facing Kerry but doesn't really looking at him.

"Uhm..." Kerry looks down at her slightly frowning. "You two talked again?" Val sighs in annoyance. "More like 'we argued again'." Kerry can't help but grin. "He was always good at that." Val's still avoiding Kerry eyes. "He's such a dick." She sighs again. "Well" Kerry chuckles. "Can't deny that."

That's when Johnny starts talking again from across the room. "Fine, just talk about me as if I weren't here, af if I were..." But Val interrupts him without looking at him. She knows exactly what he just wanted to say. "Johnny, you ARE dead." Her voice is calm again, almost carelessly. "Must be exhausting to have him around 24/7." Kerry continues, not hearing anything of their conversation. "What the fuck, Kerry!" Johnny shouts angry.

Val has decided to ignore him completely now and answers Kerry. "It is... sometimes." She yawns and continues with lower voice. "Thanks Kerry, very hospitable of ya." "No problem, kid." Kerry moves down so that he's lying on his back next to her. He lifts his right arm, looking at Val with a smile. "Come here." Val shifts closer with a grin, rests her head on his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his bathrobe at her cheek and places one arm over him. The arm with the tattoo.

Kerry's looking at it for a moment, then he wraps his right arm around her shoulders and while resting his cheek on her head he speaks with low voice. "You know, he said I'd like ya." He grins a little. Val snorts in disbelief. "Sure ya didn't mishear 'im?" Kerry chuckles low and Val can feels the vibration in his chest. She sighs and closes her eyes, trying not to think about Johnny. Thankfully she's exhausted enough to quickly fall asleep under the steady rise and fall of Kerry's chest.

[amerrierworld]

Curtain. (i)

Carol (2015) fanfiction 

Summary: An on-and-off job as photographer can only pay so much, so Therese Belivet has taken a job at an elementary school's art program to help pay the bills. One of her last jobs before the school year begins is photographing a preview night of a successful play where she meets the well-known artistic director of the show, Carol Ross. She forgets about their meeting until September rolls around and she starts teaching an inquisitive young six-year old by the name of Rindy.

Characters: Carol x Therese

Word Count: 1,491

Warnings: none yet!

June.

Therese was staring intensely at her laptop, watching as all the little photo icons from her camera began transferring over to her drive. Rain tapped gently against her windows and a can of Coke sat on her desk, half-empty. She had shut all the windows to avoid any light or outdoor distractions as she tended to daydream while looking out in the distance, but this time Therese was determined to get this job finished.

As she waited for the files to continue transferring, the brunette arched her back, yawning as her body creaked and popped from sitting for so long.

It had been three days since her lucky photography gig at the Hudson Theatre. Thinking about it still made her limbs jittery. It was a smaller theatre, but being the oldest theatre in the city and having hosted many successful shows, it was still a landmark. Therese had been overjoyed at the prospect of working inside the theatre for once and seeing all the ins and outs of the show she had been asked to document.

Her phone pinged from where she had haphazardly tossed it on her bed. She stood up and shuffled over, stretching again and giving her legs a shake as she opened a message from Dannie.

preview done. again.

how was it?

tbh a little messier than when u were there, richard kept missing his mark

of course he did.

yeah ross wasn't too pleased with him...

At the mention of the director's name, Therese's stomach lurched a bit, though she couldn't tell why. They had only exchanged a few words during the preview when she'd been there.

...anyways, manager wants to know how ur doing with those photos

workin on em right now actually

tsk that's too bad

why? did she need them now? i thought i had until next week

nah i was just gonna ask if u wanted to get some food and then get plastered w me and phil

Therese snorted and looked back at her laptop, which lit up, indicating all the files had been successfully imported. Temporarily forgetting about her conversation she hurried to glance through them, immediately noticing the faulty pics that she knew she wouldn't be able to use.

Her phone rang and she picked up.

"Is that a no?" Dannie asked from the other end. Therese rolled her eyes.

"Dannie, not responding in 30 seconds does not automatically mean no. But yeah, I don't know if getting drunk right now is such a good idea, I have a lot to go through. Plus, don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"Preview isn't until the afternoon, Belivet. I have all morning to sober up."

Sighing, Therese flicked through a few photos, stilling as she found one of the director whose back was to the camera as she directed Gen, the lead actress, who stood off to the far side of the stage.

"Therese?"

"Hm? Yeah, for sure. I'll come for food, but I'm going home afterwards, I really don't want to be hungover. I've had three cans of Coke already, alcohol and caffeine don't mix well for me."

"Alright, sounds good."

"When do you wanna head out?"

"...now?"

At that, the intercom buzzed at Therese's front door, indicating someone was in front of the apartment building.

"Jesus, Dannie, really?"

"I know you're always hungry, Therese. Plus, getting off the subway from work at your place is so much closer than mine. Forgive me?"

"Ugh fine, give me 20 minutes to get ready though. I don't care if you're stuck in the rain outside. That's what happens when you constantly drag me out for last minute plans."

"Yeah, yeah, Belivet, just hurry your ass up. We're not going anywhere fancy cause God knows I don't get paid enough to afford anything like that."

"Is Richard coming?" Therese asked, brow furrowing in a split second of worry.

"Him? Nah. I actually think he somehow managed to lure Gen into a date tonight. I saw them talking after the show."

"Oof, poor girl."

"Yeah, maybe I should warn her, y'know. Get her out while she still can."

"Terrible idea, McElroy. You know how actresses are with stage hands."

Dannie barked out a laugh. "Shut the fuck up, Belivet. You're one to talk, considering you were ogling the director the entire night."

"I was not."

"Yeah you were. Now get going, or I'm gonna melt in this downpour."

Therese smiled and ended the call, closing her laptop and hurrying to put on some decent clothes before meeting Dannie outside.

-

"C'mon Terry, not even one shot? As a celebratory drink for this job and the next."

"No, Phil," Therese laughed. "I already told Dannie, I have work to do later."

"Alright, suit yourself, but that means I'm gonna drink extra just to make up for you!"

After having grabbed a bite at a cheap Thai restaurant, the McElroy brothers had dragged Therese to their usual bar even though she was still determined to stay sober.

"Do you even know how to deal with kids, Therese? Elementary school can be vicious, y'know," Dannie said, sipping his beer as he ignored Phil stumbling from his seat to order another drink.

"It's only part-time, Dan," Therese shrugged. "Plus, what kid doesn't like art? If one of them throws a temper, I'll just let him go ham on a canvas with some paint, no big deal. It's therapeutic that way."

"How'd you manage to get a job there anyway?"

"Well, their usual art teacher had to take a break for a year 'cause of an injury, so I'm just filling in for the younger grades. They were desperate for more staff for their programs."

"Jeez, is that allowed? You've barely worked with kids until now."

"I dunno. I did a full police check and stuff, besides I'm not hired for the school, just the programs afterwards so I'm not technically a teacher. But it's a small school with a shit ton of younger kids that often need an after-school program. Chances are they won't even need me in the New Year if the other teacher comes back."

"So they just really need extra hands on deck?" Dannie concluded and Therese nodded. Phil came staggering back with a glass of water, grouchy and mumbling something about the bartender not letting him have another.

"Yeah. What about you though? What's happening after Woolf?"

Danni sighed and slumped back in his seat. "Who knows at this point? Ross is taking a break too, from being artistic director-,"

"Wait, really? She's not retiring is she?"

Dannie smirked at Therese but ignored her sudden eagerness in the conversation.

"Nah, just something about needing to be home with her family. She's worked her butt off for the theatre more than anyone, so it makes sense she wants a break for a little while after this show's done. But she'll probably be back in no time, cause she's like that. In the mean time, Gerhard is taking over. I don't know what she has up her sleeve yet, but I'm thinking a typical Christmas show is coming up."

"Any idea what it might be?"

"Nope. Everyone's talking and wanting to do A Christmas Carol but it's been so overdone, and Abby's always doing unexpected things."

"Damn, I wonder what it could be," Therese chewed her lip in thought.

"You sure you're not just upset at the idea of Ross not working there anymore?" Dannie teased. Therese smacked his arm.

"Dannie," she scolded.

"What! Even a blind person could see she's literal eye candy, though she can be a tough boss. I'm not blaming you for liking her, but I am telling you that she's not as sweet as she looks."

"Hmph, whatever. She's probably got someone anyways, if she's taking a break with family."

"I dunno, Belivet, I've never noticed a wedding ring." He winked at her.

"God, you're the worst y'know?" Therese sighed, though her eyes were twinkling. "I never should have come out to you when all you do is tease me about every girl who I just happen to find kinda cute."

Dannie grinned. "That's what you get for being besties with the McElroys, Belivet. Besides, since Phil doesn't like girls, who am I supposed to go to when I get lady problems?"

Therese shook her head and chuckled before checking her watch.

"Damn, it's getting late. Alright boys, I'm going home. I really need to work on those photos. Don't drink yourselves to death, please?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Belivet!"

She grabbed her purse before going to hail a cab as Phil and Dannie waved goodbye, her mind whirling with thoughts of the intriguing blonde director. Therese wondered who she was, besides the 'literal eye candy' that she'd managed to capture on camera. Sighing, Therese shook her from her mind during the brief cab ride home, deciding it was best to leave her daydreaming behind for the rest of the night.

A/N: heh... hi. here's my take on carol/therese because i can’t get enough of them honestly. Let me know what you think; this’ll be a pretty packed series so enjoy :3 

I’ve also been posting my stuff on AO3 if any of you use that as well so you can find this and my other stories there too! <3 

[stardancerluv]

Is Immortality the Ultimate Gift?

Part 8

Summary: Being in New York brings new developments.

Arthur’s note: A touch long...but had to establish a few things. Romantic, fluff. And I just had to use the pics captured from him working on Halston, down in NYC...he looks so good. 😍🥵 Flashback to their first event as a couple that were courting when they were humans is in italics.

Excitement prickled you, it will be great to show Thomas, New York. Glancing, over you saw thatThomas had rolled onto his stomach. You placed a kiss his bare shoulder.

You decided to bring Thomas some breakfast in bed. On your way, something caught your eye. Stopping, you saw a note and an incredibly elegant envelope. You read the note first.

Dearest,

It’s wonderful that you are back in the city. Please come down to say hello. I’ve missed you. I’d love to meet your companion, so bring them with you.

Please, forgive me for coming upstairs when you and your companion were sleeping. I wanted to make sure that you received that envelope in a timely manner.

Once again, please forgive me.

Victor

You knew he was a good man. You would remind him of the boundaries, but then make a show of accepting his apology.

Picking up the envelop and turning, it over the elegant golden writing told you immediately who had sent it.

It was from Alastair and his incredibly sweet, Donatella. You met them a little over two hundred years ago. They were kind yet powerful vampires who split their existence between here and Paris.

My sweet,

Welcome back! Alastair and I are having a small get together. We’d love to see you and meet your companion. A birdie told us you have taken one. Rightly, so! You deserve to have someone at your side. I will bring out a delicacy or two in your companion’s honor.

Eternally yours,

Donatella

The idea of Thomas, having one of their delicacies, was so exciting. When a vampire had a sip; their gifts that lingered would finally blossom. You eager to find out what Thomas’s gift was. Giving, him a kiss of the past, you longed to see a strong hue of life in him.

Hurrying, you looked through the bottles, grabbing one and a glass you went back. You saw that he had moved again, it made you giggle, he always managed to take over the bed.

Putting the bottle and glass down, you laid on your tummy along side of him. Happily, you watched him sleep.

Your thoughts went back to the party, both of you could get dressed up and be yourselves. Seeing him stir, you went to prepare a glass for him.

A deep sleepy chuckle came from him. “Let it wait, love.” Turning back to him, you watched as he rubbed an eye. You laid back down beside him.

“You woke early.” Blinking, he smiled at you. He reached out and pulled you closer. His cool hand, laid on your back.

“I did. I was very excited to show you New York. It’s a special city for me.”

“So you have history here?” He stretched and let out a sound of pure contentment. Something, about him being rumpled from sleep made you happy.

You nodded. “It is, this is the first city, where I declared my independence from Aylwin.”

“Oh, well then more of a reason for me to enjoy New York.” He kissed your shoulder before before moving, so he could rest against the headboard.

You draped yourself across his torso comfortably. His hand idly caressed your back. “Anything else, my love? Your joy is flying around you like bees to a flower.”

“We got invited to a party.” You could hardly contain your excitement.

“Oh, but we just got in last night.” Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair.

You smiled. “These two vampires have ears and eyes everywhere. They probably knew we were arriving, shortly after I had Victor get the place ready. “

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “So, we better go then?

You nodded. “Yes, they always throw amazing parties. We’ll have a good time. And I have to admit I am eager to show you off.”

A smirked played on his lips. “Oh really?” His blue eyes were filled with mischief as he looked at you.

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Come here, kiss me to show me how much you want to show me off.”

Easily moving up, you smiled at him. “I will be the luckiest and the happiest one there.” You whispered, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

It wasn’t long before the kiss deepened between you, as he held you close. Cockiness he was feeling washed over you, a chuckle came over you breaking the kiss.

“Thomas.” You shook your head.

“What? I love knowing how you see me. It makes me feel like I’m unstoppable.”

“I know, I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.” You leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “I love when you’re cocky.”

A loud chuckle came from him then. “Well, when you put it that way.” He smirked, at you.

You could only reply with your own chuckle.

He reached for the bottle and poured himself a glass and took a deep sip. “Now, do I have the proper attire for such a party?” He rose eyebrows and took another sip. “I know you probably do.”

“You know me, I do love my clothes.” You took the glass from him, and finished what was left. You poured another, and took a sip before offering it back to him. “Before we left London, I did order a few pieces for you.”

******

Peering into his closet, you could feel his happiness. It made you even happier, when you felt his enjoyment over the clothes you chose for him.

You would have to send a message to thank your tailor. Once again he did not disappoint. Thomas, looked so amazing.

“Happy, my love?”

He turned to you, spread out his arms. “I am, how do I look?”

The black tailored jeans, the sweater; you swallowed. “You look fantastic!” You went to him.

He wrapped his arms around and lifted you up into a kiss. He smiled down at you. “This is our forever.”

******

The next evening, you watched as he tried on a few different things, before he finally chose what to wear.

“Are you going show me, what you’re wearing baby?” He smirked at you, over his shoulder, after he slipping on a sweater. Once again, the tailored pants looked amazing on him.

You giggled, “Maybe.” You added playfully.

He turned, and put a hand on his hip. “Show me, baby.”

“You sure? You’ve never seen me dressed like this?”

He rose an eyebrow.

You giggled, then came out and leaned in the doorway. “What do you think?”

He whistled, “Baby, those leather pants, those boots.” A soft sound came from you, as he pulled you close. “I’m not sure if I want anyone to see you dressed like this.” He looked you up and down.

You flushed. “So you like the outfit?”

He leaned in close. “I do.” He growled, making you giggle.

******

You looped your arm with his once in the Bentley. “So it’s Alastair and Donatella?”

You nodded. “Yes, Donatella was a Swedish princess, and Alastair was a Scottish lord.”

He smiled, “I’ll remember that, fascinating mix.” He drew closer to you, then he tilted his head toward the driver. “Will he be with us all night?”

“Nah, I figured we could take a nice stroll back.”

He smiled. “Good.”

******

Once again the opulence and beauty of their estate always was a sight to behold. Simply elegant and wonderfully understated.

Walking in with Thomas on your arm, whispers stopped and eyes turned. You nodded, and smiled as a new pair of humans came to take your coats. “Thank you.” You whispered, wondering how long, they had been with Alastair and Donatella.

“Y/N, my sweet you’ve arrived. As you shrugged out of your coat, you smiled at Donatella, as she glided down the staircase. Alastair, not far from behind her.

You heard the whispers begin once again, though the eyes lingered longer they eventually turned away as well. If you were not enjoying the attention so much, you would have rolled your eyes.

******

You shook under your dress, as the coach brought you up to his house. Thomas, was introducing you to his friends in the city tonight. Being only a girl from the country, you seriously doubted how good you would look. City girls were supposed to be incredibly sophisticated.

You shouldn’t be too concerned. The heavens had blessed you with love. Your mother and relatives had not stopped telling you what a gift it was.

Twisting and interlacing a deep blue ribbon in your hair, it match rich blue and golden trimmed dress that Thomas chose for you. The color, reminded you of his eyes. You truly felt like a princess in it, his princess.

When the coach finally stopped, he was there to offer you his hand as you stepped down. You blushed, as he looked you up and down, “My love, you are a vision.”

“Thank you.” You said sweetly.

“You will be loviest one here.” He looped his arm with yours. You felt as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Thomas!” You whispered excitedly, looking around.

“What love? We are to be married. I love you, a simple kiss nothing more.” His soft, deep voice calmed your nerves.

You giggled. “I suppose you are right.” Though you flushed deeper.

“I am.” He leaned in close. “I surely hope you will not swoon when I hold you close and dance with you tonight.”

“Thomas, what if I were to faint?” Your heart beat faster at the idea.

“I’ll have to hold you closer.” He smirked.

You flushed deeper at his words and as all eyes, turned to look at the two of you as you entered.

*****

“Donatella,” You smiled broadly. “It is so wonderful to see you.” Soon, you shared a brief but affectionate embrace.

Her golden hair, fell loosely in waves around her face. Her green eyes lit up, more as she took in Thomas.

She pointed a slender finger at Thomas. “Is this him?”

You nodded. “Yes, this is my companion, Thomas.”

She offered a hand, Thomas gave it a brief kiss. “I have heard many a wonderful thing.” He nodded, politely. “Thank you for inviting me.”

She fluffed her golden hair, as she looked back at Alastair. “We had to, we’ve been quite worried about Y/N. She has been wandering around since dear, Aylwin passed.”

Thomas, smiled. You felt his smugness and had to not laugh. He looked back at you. “I am happy, that I could bring some happiness to her existence.”

******

You found yourself surrounded for a moment. Some of the others, were a flush with questions. Thomas, was very popular. They found him delightful. Only one had their doubts.

“Look, I am not saying he was a ghoul, he just happens to look like one that used to linger around Italy, when I was there during the plague years.”

“Sabina, I doubt it. When I met him he certainly didn’t smell like a ghoul.” You giggled looking, at the others.

“There is not mistaking a ghoul’s stench.” One remarked.

“Yes! Talk about revolting.” You agreed, making a face.

Donatella had excused herself, now she had returned. She held up, two very bland scuffed up bottles.

“Tonight, we have a new one among us. Y/N, brought to us, Thomas Ford. Thomas, Alastair and I welcome you. As do all the rest of us here.”

She poured some into one glass. “Here is to your new found immortality. And here,” she poured more from the other bottle into another glass. “Here’s to much happiness in your existence.”

Thomas went over. He took the first glass. “Thank you.” He bowed gallantly to Donatella and then to Alastair. Slowly, he savored what was in that first glass.

As you watched him flush with life. Your heart actually ached. He looked as he did the night you said your final I love yous as mortals. You knew when, he’d hold you it would feel like then as well.

He held up the glass, “I thank you once again, truly.” And once again he bowed, to Donatella and Alastair.

Once again, he sipped slowly savoring it. Something, magnificent happened as he finished. All of the flames in the room, jumped then strengthened and jumped before settling on the wick.

Gasps, murmur increased greatly in the room.

Alastair, was the first to speak. “Young one, I like you.” The whispers increased, but as he looked around silence fell hard on the room. He so rarely liked someone and even less frequently, even said so. “I am pleased to see that you have been given the ability to control fire.”

******

Arm in arm, you walked the city streets. He stopped as the two of your passed under a down an ornate arch way, he stopped. “Y/N, my love.

“Yes, Thomas.”

“I know eternity is ahead of us. But, I want to pledge my undying love to you. Is there anyway, we can do that? Do vampires get married? Is there anything we cound do?”

You began to tear up, “Truly?”

“Yes, truly?”

You brought your hands up, you trembled all over. “Oh Thomas.”

He smiled, he pulled you close. He tilted his head to one side. “My darling love does that mean yes?”

“Yes!” You threw your arms around him. “It means, yes!”

@shantellorraine @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @mac-n-cheesie @fandomgirl800 @vcat55 @pooshnulooshnu @greybeardthetotallylegalpirate

[dlwritings]

Call Him Hers | Dean Winchester | pt 5

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - Mark-of-Cain!Dean x plus-size!reader word count - 3,339 warnings - language

(A/N) - find my Office reference lol

summary - (Y/N) and Dean head out to the high school to help decorate for the reunion. Things definitely don’t go to plan

(previous) (next)

(Y/N) woke up with Dean’s arms wrapped around her as if neither of them moved all night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had such a peaceful slumber. She was sure Dean hadn’t woken up once throughout the night after she made him join her in bed, otherwise she would’ve heard him. He was breathing steadily, his face resting in the crook of her neck. It was another moment where, if she tried hard enough, she could imagine that it was all real.

The clock next to the bed read 7:30, and she knew she needed to get up and force Dean awake, too. Charlie and Sam had both probably been awake for at least an hour, if not longer, and she thought they might want to get breakfast to talk over their plans. She started to attempt to untangle herself from Dean’s arms, but he immediately held her tighter. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled, his lips tickling her skin.

Truthfully, Dean had been awake for a few minutes already. He woke up before she did, but he had no desire to move. He hadn’t slept that well since he got the mark. He had no nightmares, and he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even mind the fact that her hair was in his face or that her head had made his arm fall asleep. Dean rarely fell asleep beside a woman, not since Lisa anyway. He didn’t want to allow himself that kind of vulnerability when it had gone so wrong the last time he tried. Despite all of that, waking up with (Y/N) felt like the most natural thing in the world. Dean could feel goosebumps break out across her skin as she laughed.

“C’mon, Dean,” she said. “We’ve got things to do.” Dean sighed dramatically but obliged and let her wiggle out of his grasp.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, stretching slightly and scratching the back of his neck.

“Jennifer sent out a mass text and said she wanted help setting up,” she said, standing up from the bed. “I thought we could go help out and take some time to look around the school. There might be old student records that could help us find more connections between the vics and our possible suspects.”

Dean agreed and went to take a shower and get ready. She saw that Charlie had left her more outfits the day she made her wear the romper, and she couldn’t help but wonder what else she picked out. She went through the clothes and found an outfit she actually liked: belted, paper bag pants with vertical black and white stripes and a white, frilled, button front top that was slightly cropped. The crop wasn’t too drastic, and the highwaisted nature of the pants meant she wouldn't be showing too much skin. She decided it would be a good outfit to wear for the day. She’d probably be comfortable, and it was a good look that didn’t scream hunter.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets sliding from his still damp hair down his smooth skin. She tried not to stare, but his tanned skin and tight muscles were just so mouthwatering. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still affect her. She may’ve known him for ten years, but she was still human. Dean noticed her staring and shot her a wink. “Like what you see?” he teased. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said.

“Could’ve joined me,” he said. “Saved water.”

“Could’ve joined me. Saved water,” she repeated in a mocking tone. Dean laughed and she went to the bathroom to get ready.

After over an hour and a half in the bathroom, she was finally showered, dressed, and done with her hair and makeup. “Finally,” Dean groaned as soon as she stepped out. “Was gonna piss myself waiting-” He looked up from his phone and looked over at her, stopping his words in their tracks. “You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, smoothing out her pants awkwardly. “Charlie packed it for me. Thought it’d be better than a flannel.”

“What’s wrong with a flannel?” he asked, tugging at his own outfit with a playful frown.

“Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “You look perfect.”

Dean smiled. “Alright. Let me hit the bathroom, and then we can go.”

While Dean was in the bathroom, she shot a quick text to Charlie to let her know what she and Dean were planning on doing for the day. Charlie responded that she and Sam were going to head to the police station and talk with the local cops to get their input on the whole situation.

What are you wearing?

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. Are you trying to sext me?

I’d never slide in and steal Dean’s girl ;) I just wanted to see if you were wearing one of the outfits I packed for you.

She smiled and stood up from the bed, then walked over to the mirror to take a selfie to send to Charlie. She made exaggerated duck lips and did a peace sign before snapping the pic and sending it to Charlie. She was staring down at her phone when she felt Dean wrap his arms around her from behind. He put his chin on her shoulder and looked at the text she was sending Charlie. “Cute,” he teased when he saw the picture. She quickly exited out of the text message, not wanting him to see the text Charlie had sent her about being “his girl.”

Dean took her phone and opened up the camera app. When he wrapped one arm around her stomach, she blushed and put her hands on top of his arm, keeping him close to her. With his head still on her shoulder, he took a picture of the two of them in the mirror. She looked up at him with a curious smirk, but he was still looking at her phone. All she wanted was to put her hand on his cheek and turn his face to hers so she could kiss him.

Oh to truly call him hers.

Dean took a few more pictures as the two pulled funny faces. When he started tickling her sides, she finally pulled away. “Alright, alright,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve gotta go.”

“We didn’t even get breakfast,” Dean said.

“We’ll pick it up on the way,” she said. “C’mon.”

She and Dean headed out of the hotel and into the Impala. While Dean started the car and pushed a cassette into the player, she scrolled through the pictures Dean had taken. There was one that made a smile creep up on her cheeks. She was looking at the mirror pulling a funny face, and Dean was looking down at her with one of his smiles that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

It was completely unfair how much she loved him.

She set the photo as her phone background and locked her screen with a smile just as Dean pulled up to the school. Any happy feelings she had completely vanished. Her smile dropped noticeably, and Dean shut off the engine and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked.

She sighed. “I should have burned this place down when I had the chance.”

Dean laughed and got out of the car, jogging around to the passenger side to open the door for her. He held her hand as they walked into the building. “It’s weird,” she said, her voice soft. “I have so many bad memories here, but sometimes I still wish I could go back.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

She shrugged. “The world was a little easier when I didn’t have monsters on my ass all the time.” Dean gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know me back then,” he said. “I’d say you’ve upgraded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

They made their way through the school and into the gym. She thought it was a weird existence, walking through the halls with a handsome man on her arm. Even if their relationship wasn’t real, if her high school self could see that she was even friends with someone as flawless as Dean Winchester, she would shit herself with disbelief. When she and Dean got into the gym, it was full of more people than she expected. Music was playing, and Jennifer was presently standing around with a group of people, presumably giving instructions. When she saw (Y/N) and Dean though, she stopped mid conversation and held up a finger to the people. (Y/N) was surprised as she jogged over to them with a smile. “So glad you two could make it,” Jennifer said.

“Anything to help,” (Y/N) said.

“Great,” Jennifer said. “I was wondering if you guys could decorate the main hallway. There’s a table of streamers over there-” She gestured across the gym. “-and some string lights and balloons. I thought you could hang the streamers from one side of the ceiling to the other-” She continued gesturing, trying to make it clear to her and Dean what she was saying. “-and then maybe the twinkly lights and balloons could go around the gym doors.”

(Y/N) took a minute to really take Jennifer in. She was wearing glasses, and her hair was up in a high pony. Her shorts were paper bag style, much like the pants she herself was wearing, and had vertical stripes that were mustard colored, black, and white. The top she was wearing was a ribbed tube top with buttons on the front. She looked comfortable and relaxed and completely in her element. (Y/N) wondered if she had imagined all the patronizing looks she was sure she had seen every time she spoke to her before, because all she saw was genuineness in her smile.

“Awesome,” Dean said. (Y/N) smiled and nodded as well, and started to walk away with Dean, but Jennifer grabbed her arm.

“Actually, (Y/N),” Jennifer said, “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.” She felt her breath hitch in her throat as she clenched her jaw. What could she want to talk about? (Y/N) looked at Dean who gave her a gentle smile and placed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll go get the stuff,” Dean said. She took a deep breath but nodded.

“I’ll meet you in the hallway,” she said to him. He nodded as well and left her and Jennifer alone. Jennifer motioned for the two of them to head over to one of the tables that was already set up. When they sat down, (Y/N) crossed her legs awkwardly and played with her hands. “What’s up?” she said, hoping she didn't sound as uncomfortable as she felt. Jennifer took a deep breath and let it puff out of her lips.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sorry?” she said. “For what?” Jennifer licked her lips and darted her eyes around the room. She seemed nervous, like she was struggling to find her words.

“I know I wasn’t a good person in high school,” she said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not that person anymore. I, I said some really bitchy things to you back then, and I just want you to know I’m genuinely sorry.” (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something, but Jennifer kept talking. “And I can’t pretend I’m not saying this selfishly. I mean, hell, look at you! It’s not like you’re holding onto anything that I said to you. You, you have a hot ass husband, you look fine as hell, and you just-” She scoffed, but smiled. “You seem so happy. And I’m sure you’ve moved on, but, sometimes I just look back, and I hate who I was and how I treated you. I think I’m saying all this so I can let it go. So, so you don’t have to take this apology or anything. I just wanted to say it.”

(Y/N)’s lips parted as she looked at Jennifer in shock. She had no idea what she was expecting her to say, but that for sure wasn’t it. “Oh,” was all she managed to say. Jennifer let out a small, borderline embarrassed laugh before looking down at her hands. “It’s okay,” (Y/N) said to her. Her voice held a tone of surprise, because she truly was still shocked that Jennifer had apologized at all. “Like, I let go of that a long time ago.”

“Yeah?” Jennifer said, her voice cracking a bit.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said with a slight laugh. “I mean, you can’t hold onto high school forever, you know?”

Jennifer scoffed. “Tell me about it.” She looked around the room, and her eyes settled on Dean who was still standing at the table looking at the decorations like an idiot. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that creeped on her face once she followed her gaze. “God,” Jennifer said with a smile, making (Y/N) turn her head to look at her. “The way you guys look at each other is something else.” (Y/N) blushed and looked at Dean again. “I wish you could’ve seen him at the bar the other night,” she said. (Y/N) cocked her head to the side and smiled slightly.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

Jennifer laughed. “You were drunk off your ass, and he just looked at you like he had never seen anyone so perfect.” (Y/N)’s phone went off with a text message, so she picked it up to look at it. When she saw it was Charlie, she swiped it away and looked back at Jennifer. “Like that,” Jennifer said, motioning to the picture on her phone. “He looked at you like that the whole night.” (Y/N) bit her lower lip and slid her phone back into her pocket.

“I should go help him,” she said. “He looks like a lost puppy.” Jennifer chuckled and nodded, then gave (Y/N)’s arm a little squeeze.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said.

“Yeah, you too,” (Y/N) said back. “You’re kicking ass planning all this.”

“You think?” she said, genuinely shocked at her comment.

“Are you kidding?” (Y/N) said. “It looks great. Tonight’s gonna be perfect.”

She left Jennifer with a wave and headed over to Dean. She felt so good. So happy. Almost giddy. So she couldn’t help but sneak up behind Dean and press a kiss to his cheek. Dean laughed lightly and put his arm around her waist. “What was that for?” he asked, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just playing the part?”

She shrugged. “Just happy.”

Dean smiled down at her and grabbed a ladder that was propped up against the wall. They both walked into the hallway, getting ready to help decorate. Dean set up the ladder just as her phone went off again. She looked and saw she got another text from Charlie. She told Dean and he looked over her shoulder as she read them.

At 10:10, she sent Call me ASAP

15 minutes later, she sent ASAP means as soon as possible girl

She looked up at Dean and he nodded, so she called her. “Hey,” Charlie said as soon as she picked up. “We need you to check the principal’s office.”

“The principal’s office?” (Y/N) repeated. “Why?”

“He’s been MIA ever since the disappearances started,” Charlie said. “We’re wondering if we missed something. Cops are acting like something’s up.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) said. “I’ll call you if we find anything.”

She and Dean abandoned their post by the ladder and headed down the hall to the main office. It was unlocked, though there were no secretaries at the front desk. They continued walking and got to the principal’s office door. It was, as she expected, locked. Dean pulled out his lock pick kit and unlocked it with ease. When they got in the room, she shut the door quickly behind her. “What are we supposed to look for?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, logging onto his computer. “Something suspicious I guess.”

“Vague,” Dean mumbled. He started sifting through some of the papers on the principal’s desk. She managed to get onto his email with ease, clicking through his various messages with little interest.

“I’m coming up short,” she said. “It looks like he took a vacation to Maui. I’m seeing legit confirmation emails and-”

She and Dean both heard the door to the main office open and close, and her heart caught in her chest. She quickly closed down the email browser, and as Dean set something down on the desk, he managed to knock over a paperweight and send it crashing to the ground. They looked at each other with wide eyes, knowing there was no way whoever was outside didn’t hear them. “Okay,” Dean breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “Here goes nothing.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, but Dean just took her hand, made her stand up from the chair, turned her around, and lifted her thighs to put her on her principal’s desk. She gasped when he, with no hesitation, smashed his lips against hers. Her hands immediately snaked around his neck as she held him close to herself, tugging her fingers through his hair. Dean growled against her lips and gripped her thigh in his hand, pulling her leg and wrapping it around his waist. His other hand cradled the back of her head and he fisted her hair in his grasp causing her to moan against his lips. Dean got lost in the moment and pressed his lower body closer to her just as the door to the principal’s office opened. Dean pulled away from her and wiped his thumb across his lower lip. She couldn’t even look at the person who came in. She rested the top of her head on Dean’s chest and stared down at the floor.

“Sorry,” Dean said, though he was doing a really good job at not sounding sorry. While her eyes were focused on the floor, she couldn’t help but notice the bulge in Dean’s jeans. Oh god. She did that? She had that effect on him?

He was that big?

She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to will away the feelings bubbling in her chest.

“You two shouldn’t be in here,” the person said. (Y/N) finally looked up and saw that it was the school’s janitor, probably coming in to clean out the trash bin.

“Right,” she said, jumping off the desk and pushing Dean away slightly. “We’ll just-” She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that.”

She quickly left the main office and put her forehead in her hands. “Oh my god,” she said to Dean once they were in the hallway. “That was mortifying.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to lie,” Dean said. “That is not how I planned that would go down. Sorry I just kind of, you know.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “It was, uh, it was a solid plan.” Dean nodded, and when she finally looked up at him, she couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” he asked. She just shook her head and reached up, wiping some of her lipstick off his lips with her thumb and smoothing down his hair that had become ridiculously unruly from her tugging at it. She saw the way his smile was crinkling his eyes again, and it made her think of what Jennifer had said to her. She cleared her throat and stopped touching him, then motioned down the hallway.

“Let’s get to decorating.”

----- ----- ----- -----

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[inmyarmswrappedin]

DRUCK reactions - s4 ep3

Featuring: the clip that made me infinitely more interested in the season.

Oops, I forgot to link to the Nadia clip twitter thread. It’s there now!

(Thanks again to @wodrueckts! 💛)

CLIP 1: What is this, a tent for ants?

LISTEN. Tua is already the smallest in the girl squad, and that tent doesn’t even look like she can lay fully stretched out inside.

I was so disturbed by this that I looked up 1-person tents, and they don’t look that small! They are longer and thinner.

Amira’s mom comes outside and she’s also disturbed, but not by Amira using a toddler-sized tent, but Amira going camping at all. She’s like, we’re going to have a conversation about traveling while hijabi, but Amira isn’t in the mood.

And her mood is further spoiled because Sam texts her hoping that she can hook her up with Mohammed.

Amira’s mom brings her some pepper spray, and holy shit! Is that legal in Germany? (Answer: yes, it is, but it’s sold as “animal repellent.”)

I’ve traveled on my own before but I’ve always stayed in B&Bs, hostels or hotels. Ngl I wouldn’t even couchsurf at a stranger’s without some kind of protective device, like a portable door lock. I would never carry a weapon because you never know if you’re going to use it properly in the heat of the moment, but something like a personal alarm for runners would work in a camping setting. Take care of yourself if you’re traveling on your own!

CLIP 2: Lemonade pining

Jonas is going on about supporting sea rescue efforts of African migrants in the Mediterranean Sea, a big topic last year because of the Salvini administration (in Italy) approving a law to fine migrant rescue ships. Salvini has been ousted since, and sea rescue has disappeared from the news what with 2020 being a dumpster fire and all.

Essam, high on power, demands that his slave Amira makes him some lemonade, but I already described my issues with this storyline last week. After threatening Amira with the ever classic sibling-on-sibling physical violence, Amira relents.

Mohammed comes in as Amira is sulkily preparing some lemonade for Essam, and he makes a flirty comment about Amira’s ice cold stare again.

The sweet thing about Mohammed is that he fully admits that he finds Amira intimidating, like he totally recognizes that Amira can be unapproachable when she wants to (even though Amira M. is also one of the friendliest Sanas), but like… For one thing he doesn’t neg her about it. He’s playful about Amira being scary, but he’s not trying to bring her down. And for another, Mohammed tries to find ways in which he fits into Amira’s life or can help her in some way.

This will keep coming up with them, but it happens here when he thinks of a way to prank Essam and, as a result, cheer Amira up.

Peep at the interaction between Amira and Mohammed when they come out with the lemonade. They don’t exchange a word, but they’re such a team.

CLIP 3: Beware bicyclists

Amira, apparently still on a high since the lemonade prank, is strolling down the street singing to herself, as I believe most of us have done at some point.

Jonas asks for Amira’s help with his solidarity party, further characterizing Amira as the one they all go to for help.

Sam also texts Amira. She’s found Mohammed’s insta, which makes Amira’s face fall for a moment… Even though Mohammed keeps seeking Amira out, it feels like Sam might be able to hook up with him through sheer force of will? Or maybe Amira is kinda hoping Sam’s crush goes away, but it ain’t.

There’s something really Formal about that family photo that makes it lowkey funny, like I can imagine that pic being one Mohammed’s family sends to their relatives (caption about family and all), instead of one would post on instagram. Somehow, you can feel Mohammed’s latent dad energy just waiting to be discovered.

Even though this wasn’t the way Amira wanted to come across that pic, Mohammed just looks so damn fine that she can’t help but zoom in on his face, a Druck classic at this point.

And she’s so focused on the thirst that she almost gets run over by an islamophobic bicyclist, who thoroughly spoils her day.

This is such a Northern Europe thing btw. I think each one of my friends who has lived in the bike using part of Europe for any period of time has a story about a bicyclist yelling profanities at them. It’s like they’re saving the planet with their lack of gas use so they have to be extra dickish to compensate for their do gooding.

Amira also looks around as this happens, maybe to see if someone else witnessed what happened (for support?).

Anyway, Amira is so angry that she double texts Sam (or possibly just texts? I checked a couple times and it isn’t clear that she sent Sam the text where she translates the caption about family) to be careful with Mohammed as Arabs will fuck you over. She does a double take to herself, like she’s checking with herself that this was appropriate, and seems to decide it is.

I really dislike the context here. When this happened on Skam, it was part of a larger conversation between Sana and Noora where it was clear that Sana was repeating stereotypes in order to discourage Noora’s interest. And even in that conversation, what Sana said is that Muslim guys will sleep with white Norwegians because they put out, but in the end they marry Muslim girls. So rather than saying, he’s gonna fuck you over, Sana explains how. What Amira tells Sam is so lacking in context, so random as a response to Sam asking what the caption says, and like… You kinda have to have watched the Skam scene in order for Amira not to come across like a total dick here.

It also makes no sense because Sana knew that Noora had been hurt in the past by guys using her for sex and then discarding her, but a no strings attached hook up is exactly what Sam is after. So like… How would Mohammed wanting just sex and nothing else fuck Sam over anyway?

CLIP 4: Sam is interested in getting fucked (over)

Amira and Sam are doing boxing intervals, and Sam is a bit taken aback by how intense Amira is at something Sam is presumably doing just for fun.

Now imagine they’d actually written a scene around that difference between both girls, instead of a brief subtextual moment for us to read into.

Mohammed comes in during a pause, which Amira is using to get a bit more practice in whereas Sam is showing off to Kiki (sensing a theme they could’ve explored, here).

It looks like he’s going to go say hi to Amira, but Sam gets there first and starts flirting with him, hair twirling and all. Amira looks upset and goes back to boxing.

CLIP 5: Nadia! [crowd cheers]

At this point when the season was dropping, I was, to be completely honest, a little bored. Like the clips were cute and all, but I wasn’t excited. (Of course, you have to keep in mind that this was in comparison to my excitement levels during Matteo’s season, where so much as a glimpse of David made my synapses light up.)

I loved this clip and immediately posted a full on analysis on twitter (which you can read here if you’re interested, but I’ll be rehashing most of it in this post), and it still holds up in rewatch even though they didn’t mine the Nadia/Amira dynamic for all it was worth.

So we open on Nadia and Amira and they’re already looking tense as shit. It doesn’t help that Amira’s mom seems, like, almost relieved that Nadia hasn’t totally cut ties with Amira lmao. And she’s like, “omg you must have so much to talk about!” even though we just saw them looking quiet and uncomfortable.

Amira is all, “never thought you’d be the first one to marry,” and to Nadia’s credit, she takes this comment, which could read as shady, as a friendly observation. She talks a bit about how Ahmed is not like the other dicks, but Amira isn’t convinced, and now she’s definitely shading Nadia.

She also gets on Nadia’s case about going to Dubai for their honeymoon, but Nadia doesn’t defend herself and just looks sheepish.

Kiki comes in with some vegan cupcakes that she made to thank Amira for her help last episode, and you can see how Amira is much more at ease with Kiki. Tbf they did see each other last week, whereas we know Nadia has been out of the picture for a while. Anyway Kiki seems to feel the tension in the air, so she tries to excuse herself.

At this point, Nadia finds her voice to ask Kiki to stay. Is it because she thinks that with Kiki around conversation will flow more freely? Or maybe because she’s hoping that Amira’s irritation will be redirected to this Alman?

After Kiki admires the vegan spread Amira’s mom prepared, we find out that Nadia’s intention is the latter. She all but tells Kiki that Amira told her Kiki was a racist piece of shit. So this is how Nadia gains the upper hand after Amira’s earlier comments.

Amira looks alarmed, but Kiki is like pfff yeah, I was so into Alexander Humberbumber that I might have been the worst s1 Vilde until Amber made her appearance, but now I’m getting dicked down by a good man and I see Amira for the Muslim goddess she is (I’m paraphrasing but not that much!).

Amira looks really touched by Kiki not just 1. Not picking up Nadia’s intention, but also 2. Swiftly clearing the air and complimenting Amira in the process.

Kiki figures out that Nadia is the friend who’s getting married and declares her love for weddings of all kinds but especially Bollywood-style ones. Nadia looks really amused at this and looks at Amira like, “get a load of this girl!” Amira looks a bit embarrassed.

Sidenote to say Druck started building up to Kiki’s love of weddings last episode when she was paging through a wedding magazine spread. Like, they really put in more work into this Kiki/wedding storyline than most storylines last week.

And when Kiki asks if Nadia’s marriage was arranged, Nadia makes fun of Kiki to Amira. Like I would love to say that Nadia isn’t being mean to Kiki, but she is, and the point is to bring Amira down a notch. Now Amira really does look embarrassed, because in some way she’s supposed to be responsible for Kiki not saying something islamophobic. Kiki isn’t Amira’s responsibility, and I’m sure Nadia would agree in other circumstances, but… That’s what Amira gets for calling Nadia out for the Dubai honeymoon!

But as the conversation goes on, it also kind of seems like Nadia takes a liking to Kiki? (I’m mostly assuming because Nadia later invites Kiki to that pre-wedding event.) They talk a little bit about Nadia and Ahmed, and Kiki’s like, “I want to go to a Muslim wedding so fucking bad, Amira, please!”  It’s like… At the moment Amira is the only single female friend Kiki has, but Kiki’s just like, can’t you just get married now though.

Amira’s like NO WEDDINGS, Australia first. And tension falls around the table again, because of course, Nadia didn’t know about this, but Kiki knew about it, so like… It’s just another way in which Amira has become a different person as far as Nadia is concerned.

Let us now talk about Kiki. Like I said, I really loved this clip. In general I love Skams clips where the dynamic feels so lived in and nuanced and multifaceted. This is the first time we see Nadia in the flesh, but we get so much information just from looks and tone of voice. Nadia’s actress and Tua El-Fawwal just rock this scene.

When it aired I took Kiki’s words at face value. Like, this was the way the writers had decided to resolve Kiki being a racist in earlier seasons, and I accepted it. It wasn’t until later that I read criticism of the scene and thought about it a bit more.

In Skam, Isak apologizes to Eva in three separate scenes. In s1, episode 10, she says to Eva, “I fucked up,” “[if I had known Iben was a psycho] then of course I wouldn’t have done it.” In episode 11, “I know it might be hard to believe, but I never wanted to hurt you. It just turned out that way. I’m sorry.” And in s3, “I just want to say sorry for that stuff last year. When I was ruining things for you and Jonas.” Like. You can say that Isak only said sorry because he got caught (though I personally believe he was genuine every time, if not entirely truthful), but the point is that Julie Andem thought it necessary, in order for Isak to remain a likable character, that he apologized three times.

The girl squad never apologized to Sana, they just showed up with the Los Losers van one day.

And while Druck also thought it was necessary for Matteo to be full of self-loathing over what he did to Hanna, they didn’t think Kiki needed to apologize on screen.

One of my least favorite Skams characters is Basile Savary, because he was a total creep to the point that, during s3, Skam France had to release a damage control text out of Lucas L’s POV because people were worried that he might have done something to Daphné while she was drunk. Basile was a creep who respected no boundaries (including dry humping Daphné against her will on social media, which played off as a joke!) until one day he wasn’t and became the perfect boyfriend. No arc where he learned to be a doper person, Skam France said, no we are not going to examine how nerds get away with being gross creeps.

And as much as I would like to say otherwise, Druck did the same with Kiki. Kiki was one of the most overtly racist Vildes in s1, was still making offensive comments about Amira’s and Sam’s hair in s2, and then… Season 4 rolls around and Kiki just says, “oh yeah I was a dick before but now I know Amira is a great Muslim.” Like… At least it didn’t happen from one day to the next, but no, there wasn’t an arc where Kiki is taken to task for her racism, nor a scene where Kiki apologizes to Amira.  

This is an issue specifically because Amira’s season hinges on the Kiki/Amira friendship, like they pretty much got rid of most other conflicts or didn’t explore them fully, choosing instead to focus on this dynamic.

And I don’t think it was because Lea and Tua are such good friends irl (which they are! Lea even attended Tua’s engagement party! I love them!), because like, Tua is also good friends with Carl (Stefan) and we never got an Amira/Stefan scene, did we? I think it was simply that this season was too packed with people of color, and either funk or the writers needed a white character to anchor the season.

I still love Kiki and Amira obviously, I ship them (in fanon) and I love their scenes, because I love Lea and Tua and their friendship, and their characters. All I wanted from s4 of Skam was Vilde supporting Sana in the way Sana had supported Vilde for three seasons, and Druck gave me that. But here’s one thing where the writers dropped the ball, and it’s a massive mistake because the emotional core of the season is this friendship.

This also made me think about how the change of writers resulted in character arcs being dropped left and right. Now that two writing collectives are about to pick up Druck’s next gen, I think there’s an idea that the change in writers in the first four seasons wasn’t noticeable, but honestly… It kind of was. I would argue that a lot of the things that were set up in s1 and s2 got dropped and didn’t go anywhere. To wit:

Hanna’s arc in s1 is trashed in s4. Jonas is set up with a redemption arc in s2 that isn’t explored past that season. The Winterberg of s2 has nothing to do with the s4 ship. Kiki is still being racist in s2 and a shining example of allyship in s4. The little depth that Sam had in s1 and s2 gets dropped. Amira’s delivery job… Enough said. The one character whose character arc through the seasons was done justice I would argue is Matteo. He gets a shift in characterization after s1 to make the storyline with David make more sense (more on this if I ever write Matteo’s season meta), and retains that characterization to the end. Of the minor characters, Carlos and Abdi also come out well. David gets introduced in s3 when Q3 took over the writing, so he wasn’t affected.

Anyway, this clip totally revitalized the season.

CLIP 6: Amira praying, that’s it, that’s the clip

Mohammed is at the door waiting for Amira, and when Amira asks him if Sam is already there, he says he’s not here because of Sam. And I’m like, does he mean that literally? Like Amira could’ve assumed Sam invited him to this party, but Mohammed did meet the squads last episode. Maybe he asked Jonas if Amira was coming or got himself invited some other way.

Amira’s like sure, and gets inside. And Mohammed looks at her in such a way that even I need to fan myself a little tbh.

Hanna compliments David’s design, and Matteo’s like yeah, David is great, but I’d rather shit on Stefan. Idk, I feel like the Matteo in my mind would want to hype David up a little more before moving onto shitting on Stefan, but it’s a small quibble.

Amira goes to help Sam in the kitchen, and they both have some trouble making German food. I can’t tell if it’s because they’re generally bad at cooking or this is a commentary on white people’s palates. Or Abdi’s palate since he’s still going on about hollandaise sauce.

Oh, Sam explains that she told Mohammed about the party and he got on board. So he is there because of Sam, kinda.

They also talk about Mohammed having the coolest insta (pro: Mohammed has at least one topless pic, con: Mohammed has a pic wearing flip flops with socks), and how Abdi doesn’t compare because he doesn’t have an insta (yet). I mean… Damn, Sam. You can’t argue with logic like that.

But Sam calls Amira out on being weird lately. Again, I really wish this conversation didn’t rely so much on subtext, so it could be properly developed. Also, a new version of Snow’s Informer is playing in the background during this conversation and I can’t help but love the mood whiplash of it all.

Then something confusing happens when Jonas introduces the music act and says they come from Lebanon and traveled to Germany by train and then the lead singer says they’re from Berlin. They’re called Feedback and I tried googling them to find out what that’s all about, but with that name I didn’t get any results about them.

At least this is the kind of band that would play at an event like this, like they seem good enough to do a performance, but not big enough that there’s no believable way Jonas could book them.

Amira and Mohammed have a ~Moment~ when the audio switches to the version of Sand performed by Lary, and the sexual tension is so overwhelming for Amira that she immediately leaves to get some praying done, in the privacy of the venue’s backroom.

This scene is so iconic and beautiful. That shot of Amira being lit from above, looking up with her hands held before her? Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, etc. The kind of sequence that needs both a Muslim performer and behind the scenes respect for said Muslim performer.

Amira overhears some argument as she’s folding the carpet she was using, and then she sees that Mohammed was blocking the door, so that she could pray in peace. Can we get a #notallmen here? Thanks. Again, Mohammed just finds little ways in which he can help and support Amira without being intrusive.

Mohammed compliments Amira’s friends for trying to help refugees (although sea rescue is more about migrants in general, rather than refugees). I think something that is lost in translation is that German is obviously not Mohammed’s first language, so I think this scene is more significant and subtext-laden for German speakers.

Amira is probably still smarting from her earlier run in with the racist biker, so she (who’s always said she wants to be Chancellor) says that Jonas will probably become Chancellor one day. Mohammed says no! Amira should be Chancellor, but Amira doesn’t think anyone wants that. 🙁 But Mohammed says he does, and he says “we” need someone who fights for “us” (which Amira probably interprets as “us Muslims,” but Mohammed might mean more like, “us refugees”).

Also, Mohammed thinks that Amira was trying to matchmake him with Sam, which we know it was more like the opposite, but it’s very in line for Mohammed to think Amira was trying to get rid of him.

Then Mohammed asks Amira for her phone and is all, “don’t you trust me?” and Amira’s like, “no,” which is hilarious. After a while, Amira wants her phone back and Mohammed notices Amira accidentally cut herself with the knife earlier. He puts a cute bandaid on it, and they have yet another Moment. They’re so into each other that Amira goes, “omg I love this song! Let’s go in!” But Mohammed is now sure his feelings are requited.

Social media

Kiki slept at the new apartment even though it’s falling apart, a sign that that she can’t stand being at her mom’s house. Later, Zoe texts her and Kiki says she’ll be available whenever Zoe needs her, but she also just… doesn’t want to live at her mom’s.

Matteo and David (but really just Lukas) attended the Berlin CSD (Pride) march.

Mia posts a pic of a cortado coffee, and I totally believe this was taken in Madrid. 👌

Carlos missed the Abiball because he failed his History resit, then he missed Jonas’ birthday because he was sick, and this week he’s visiting Brandenburg with Kiki, and what I’m getting from all this is that maybe Carlos’ actor had other commitments during this time lol.

Amira and Mohammed both post pics acknowledging their Moment under the lights/with the bandaid, showing Amira is getting more emotionally committed to this relationship.

Final thoughts

While I did have some issues with this episode, it was much more solid overall than episode 2. Nadia’s actress really delivered in her intro clip and I wish they’d explored that dynamic a bit more, but the character kind of takes a backseat after this. Although I don’t feel like Amira and Mohammed have a motif or object that they keep revisiting (like Jonas and Hanna with Hanna’s nose, or Mia and Alex with Hotel Hardenberg, or David and Matteo with the sandwiches*), I like their dynamic where Mohammed is supportive of Amira’s endeavors, which this episode solidifies. I also really love the significance of Amira getting to complete her prayer thanks to Mohammed. In Skam, Sana gets constantly interrupted until later in the season, where she gets to pray for all her friends.

[* I thought about this a bit more, and I think one motif Mohammed and Amira share is music, and singing to each other.]

I discussed this episode with Michi, and we came to the conclusion that the root conflict between Amira and Nadia is that Amira feels like that, to be with a man, is to compromise yourself and your principles. Nadia didn’t use to be the person who’d be the first to marry, or who’d go on a honeymoon to Dubai, and Amira sees that chance as Nadia losing sight of her ideals. But, in the last clip, Mohammed’s actions allow Amira to be who she fully is, and to finish her prayer. So the idea is planted, that Amira wouldn’t necessarily have to compromise her principles if she got into a relationship. Of course, Mohammed is probably one of the people who’d most compromise Amira’s ideals if she were to date him, but we’re not at that point yet.  

[wizardofahz]

Time Loop

A/N: Other Brainiac 5 telling our Brainiac 5 that he would have to go it alone in 5x10 reminded me of an idea I had when spoiler pics of the two Alex’s in 3x20 first came out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey, Alex,” Mon-El says as he approaches her in a DEO corridor. He glances around as if to be sure they’re alone. “Do you have a second?”

Alex eyes him warily but says, “Sure. What’s up?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at her thoughtfully. Then he says, “This is going to sound weird, but have you seen another Alex?”

Alex’s face scrunches with confusion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Mon-El says quickly. “Just... let me know if you do.”

“Right,” Alex says skeptically.

He leaves her alone after that.

Alex goes about the rest of her day normally, but when she leaves the DEO, she doesn’t go home. She rides her motorcycle towards the outskirts of the city until she reaches her destination. She stashes her motorcycle behind some bushes and descends down a hidden trapdoor.

At the end of the hallway, she opens the door to reveal her past self. “Did you make any progress today?”

...

Alex wakes in what appears to be an underground bunker. As she sits up, she sees herself, or another version of herself, watching her.

“I’m not a White Martian,” her doppelganger says, holding a lighter up to her palm. “And I’m not from an alternate universe either.”

“Then who are you?” Alex asks, while she surreptitiously canvasses the room.

“There are no weapons here,” her doppelganger says knowingly, “or at least, nothing you can use as a weapon, and seeing as how you’re me, I know how you think.”

“I'm you,” Alex echoes. “So if you’re me, but you’re not from an alternate universe--”

“I’m from the future.”

“Right,” Alex says skeptically.

“I need your help to finish Carnwennan.”

“No,” Alex says immediately. “It’s only an idea. It’s not supposed to be real.”

“I used to think that too,” her future self says, and suddenly she looks heartbroken. Alex has a feeling she knows why. “Tell me, what is the one thing that would make you pursue it?” 

The question confirms it. “Kara dying.”

Her future self nods. “Which is why I know you will help me.”

Alex feels her world crashing down around her. “Kara dies. When?”

Her future self hangs her head. “In three weeks.”

Alex splutters. “Three weeks? Developing Carnwennan--making it a reality--would take months, no, years, probably decades--”

“And it has,” her future self cuts her off. “It has taken years and many iterations. I’m not the first Alex to go back in time. We’ve been looping, and each time we bring back an updated version for our past self to continue off of. We’ve been getting closer and closer. I think this should be it. Or maybe I fail, Kara dies again, and you come back in time. But, either way, we should succeed soon enough.”

“How...” Alex trails off. She has so many questions. Where to start? “How do we get back from the future?”

“We use the same disruption as the Legion.”

“But you don’t look much older than I do, so how do you get that far in the future?”

“Don’t ask.”

“What? Now you care about the grandfather paradox?”

“I said, don’t ask,” Alex’s future self snaps. “You know as well as I do that we would do anything, endure anything, to protect our loved ones, so when I tell you you don’t want to know, believe me. You don’t want to know.”

“Fine,” Alex relents. “How am I supposed to help you?”

Her future self sighs. “One reason we loop back without having a finished product is that we tend to get stuck. Handing it off to a fresh mind seems to help. You’ll be here working on it, and I’ll cover for you.”

“Why do you have to cover for me? Can’t we tell Kara? I mean, not the dying part, but we can just say that we might have a weapon that can help.”

Her future self shakes her head. “It’s too risky. Besides Kara knows us. She’ll know we’re holding something back, and you know how Kara can get. She’s stubborn. She’ll try to figure it out.”

Something occurs to Alex, something that sends her into a panic. “What if we fail? I can’t stay here for three weeks if we fail. I can’t not see Kara again.”

“I know,” her future self says, looking heartbroken again. “She’s going to be on Argo a lot--”

“What?” Argo survived?

“--but she’ll come back sometimes. We can switch off. You’ll need breaks anyway.”

...

“I think so,” Alex responds. She stands and stretches before putting on a leather jacket. She gestures to the mess of papers on the desk. “Start with the top right corner and then work your way down from there.”

“Okay,” her future self says. She takes off her own leather jacket and then takes a seat. “Oh by the way, you’ve agreed to a romcom marathon for Sister Night.”

Alex pauses at the door. “I--I what now?”

“I caved really quickly,” her future self says before continuing on sadly, “I just want her to be happy.”

Alex understands. “And she wasn’t suspicious?”

Her future self shrugs. “I think she chalked it up to being on Argo so much.”

Alex nods and then makes her way up the stairs and through the trapdoor. She retrieves her motorcycle from the bushes and heads for Kara’s apartment.

Alex possibly gives Kara the longest hug of their lives. Like her future self, she guesses Kara chalks it up to their Argo-based separation, returning the hug with equal fervor. Tears well up in Alex’s eyes, but she manages to covertly wipe them before Kara can see.

She spends most of Sister Night watching Kara rather than the television screen.

[pynkhues]

What do you mean Beth is terrible at self care? I believe you, but I need Examples

Oh, gosh, anon, this is such an old ask (the oldest in my inbox rightnow!) and I’m so, so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. It got swallowedup unfortunately. Hopefully this reply being so long makes up for it.

WhenI say Beth is terrible at self-care, I mean it actually pretty functionally onevery level. I don’t think she looks after herself physically, which we seeboth through her total lack of self-preservation when it comes to puttingherself in dangerous situations and her tendency to over extend herself; oremotionally, which we’ve seen through her compartmentalisation, avoidancetendencies and catatonic bed-ridden states. 

Ithink this all really stems from the fact that Beth’s somebody who has spent somuch of her life putting other people ahead of herself that I’m not sure sheactually knows how to understand her own needs beyond whatever herimpulses are telling her in a moment, and I think the show’s demonstrated thatin a few different ways.

Physicalself-care is probably the easiest, so I’m going to start there. 😊

I think our clearest example of the facets of Beth’slack of physical self-care - both her lack of self-preservation and herdifficulties with taking care of herself more specifically, is in 2.07 - TheDubby. 

It’sa pretty universal opinion in the fandom that going back into that house was a stupidact, right? She deliberately put herself, Ruby and Annie, into a dangeroussituation over something that really boils down to her daughter’s comfort. Evengetting to the door - where both Annie and Ruby are seeing red flag after redflag and trying to pull the plug, Beth barrels forwards into danger with reallyno heed at all as to what could happen to her.

Andthe thing is, Beth ‘going into the house’ so to speak is actually apattern of behaviour for her. It’s the rule, not the exception. We really seethis as early as 1.02 when Beth’s got Rio’s boy’s gun to her temple andchallenges him (although you could also argue that that was a last ditch effortat self-preservation, as opposed to the reverse), 1.03 when she goes toRio’s warehouse on her own (the warehouse being the criminal operation of a manwho literally just tried to have her killed), we saw it after Rio held a gun onher again in 1.06, and then when she threw the keys at him in 1.09.

Season 2 really doubled down on this. We saw it in 2.01when she gave Rio back the gun (after he’d just beat the shit out of herhusband no less), when she faces him at the end of 2.02, when she robs himagain in 2.06, when she goes unprepared to the baby gangster’s apartment to gether money back in 2.08,  and when she handsherself over to Turner in 2.13.

Of course, I think some of this you could argue –namely that some of this is her trusting Rio way more than she should, hershort fuse, and a broader naivety and an impulsiveness too, but I think when youmarry it with everything else too, it really boils down to a core lack ofself-preservation.

When I talk about physical self-care though, I’m not justtalking about her putting herself into dangerous situations.

So let’s jump back to 2.07 again.

While we have Beth running recklessly into thedrugdealer’s house, we also have another example of how she doesn’t take careof herself, namely through the opening montage. Beth is working. She’s morethan working, she’s leaving before sun-up and not getting home before sun-down.She’s compulsively leaving notes to her children while struggling to keep aholdof everything. She’s stretching herself thin, again, something that’sreally emphasised across both seasons. Beth bites off more than she can chew,and she pushes past her gag reflex to swallow it. We saw that with her committingherself, Ruby and Annie to washing more money than they could manage for Rio in1.06 (albeit that time they outsourced it through the secret shoppers), she didit with getting Rio arrested in 1.10 / 2.01 and the fallout with Boomer, shedid it in 2.06 when she strong-armed the deal with Rio, and the fallout intheir partnership, even in 2.10 with all her obsessive baking and organisingfor Jane’s school event.  

Some of this is cause-and-effect, some of it isdistraction, some of it is probably a means of managing anxiety (i.e. literallycatering an incredible spread of food for her arrest in 2.13), but it allresults in Beth spreading herself beyond reason to prove something to herself,to somebody else, or to commit herself to an image in a way that on it’s ownwould be a quirk, but when paired with how quickly she falls apart when thepeople she’s doing these things for are removed from the equation, issomething more indicative of a lack of self-care.

What I’m saying here is that Beth doesn’t take care ofherself unless it’s serving other people. 2.09 is, of course, the clearestexample of this. After Dean takes her kids, Beth stops cooking, relying insteadon microwave meals, she doesn’t clean up – something that is pointedly unlikeher, she doesn’t even dress herself with the degree of care she normally would –namely, her socks don’t match. It’s directly paralleled at the end of theepisode by Dean bringing the kids back and Beth cooking a feast andcompulsively cleaning her house.

I actually think we see this in other ways toothroughout the series. Particularly in 1.01, we see it when she’s getting herwax (the way that scene is presented to us almost immediately after showing usher and Dean’s disconnection, and then her talking about her lack of sex lifewith him with the beautician ergo implying that Beth’s getting it for him, I’dsay probably in the hopes of sparking interest / reconnecting in some way), butalso particularly in when Beth is struggling generally, that translates verypointedly in the way she dresses in a way that it doesn’t in Annie and Ruby. Whenthings are rough, Beth sticks in her pyjamas and she usually stays in bed.

Which brings us to her emotional state generally. I’vetalked a lot on here about how Beth compartmentalises and avoids. She bottlesshit up. She bottles it so tight that it erupts in one of two ways – an act ofrage and destruction i.e. destroying Dean’s office in 1.01, arguably having sexwith Rio in 2.04, certainly robbing Rio blind in 2.06, and, of course, shootinghim in 2.13. The other way it erupts is that she collapses in on herself – wesaw that with Dean telling her he had cancer in 1.04, and with Dean passing herthe divorce papers in 2.11, and, from the promo pics, I think we’re going tosee that in some way, shape or form in 3.01 too.

Neither of these are healthy ways to handle anything,but they happen because Beth doesn’t take care of herself emotionally, and hasno outlet to pour her feelings into. Ruby has Stan, and Annie has Beth, butBeth? Beth doesn’t have anyone, at least not in a way that she’s willing touse. Sure, Ruby and Annie would hear her, and have, on occasion, but we’vealso seen how reluctant Beth is to share anything about her interior life withanyone (even, arguably, herself).

A lot of this seems to be learned behaviour. As 2.08showed us, Beth was a caregiver by the time she was in highschool, both to hermother and to her sister, and all in all that’s shaped her into being a personwho lives in the service of others. The fact that she fell into a relationshipwith Dean at a very young age and didn’t work beyond highschool, I think,further cemented those feelings of domestic servitude and needing to put asidepersonal care to be a caregiver. Beyond that, as I said above, I alsothink it blossomed into Beth being out-of-touch with her needs and her feelingsboth broadly and specifically, but that feels like a whole other post, haha.

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: slow as you can go

This story was written as a commission for @armellin and @jesusonthetortillas, to illustrate this lovely J2 pic Armellin created.

Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: E Tags: Non-AU ‘Canon’ Divergence, Established Relationship, Married Sex Summary: After a convention, Jared and Jensen come home for a brief break. They've earned it.

(read on AO3)

Plane travel will never be Jared's favorite thing—it's probably never going to crest the top thousand of his favorite things—but flying first class definitely makes it better. Actual legroom, for one, and constant booze for another. He stretches out, trying to ignore the constant annoying hum from the engines and the wind against the fuselage, and sips at what may well be his third gin and tonic—but who's counting. Lime and bitter, and it's good, but not as good as what's waiting for them at home.

Thinking of home makes him tip his head to the side against the soft seatback. He smiles. The view in first isn't half-bad, either.

Jensen's sleeping, again. He hasn't shaved all weekend and the stubble's coming in that golden-red color that drives Jared crazy, a little. He doesn't think Jensen's noticed the way Jared likes to run his lips against it, but then again Jensen's pretty observant, about all things Jared, so maybe he has. Doesn't matter either way; it's not like Jared's gonna stop. It's a midmorning flight and most of their fellow passengers are absorbed in whatever high-level business crap they have going on with their laptops, and there's not a flight attendant hovering asking if they need anything. Safe to take a moment and run his knuckles against all that prickly stubble, feel the reverse-grain burn of it against his skin. He really cannot wait to get home.

Jensen makes a soft upset sound, deep in his throat. Whoops. When he stirs into blinking awake Jared makes an apologetic grimace—well-practiced from work, although Sam usually actually feels apologetic and Jared doesn't, right now, not really. Jensen squints at him, clearly still half-gone, and Jared whispers, "Sorry," but he strokes Jensen's jaw again, soft, so it probably doesn't come off as all that genuine.

A beat of Jensen only blinking at him, fuzzy. He presses into Jared's knuckles for the barest second, like a cat, before he scrunches further down in his chair, closes his eyes again. "Keep it in your pants for a few more hours, Jay," he says, scratchy-low. Jared scoffs, and Jensen's mouth turns up at the corners but he's really settled in, going back to sleep for whatever time he has left. Lazy.

Jared sighs, puts his earbuds in. According to the flight map on the seat they've got about eight hundred miles left to get back home. That'll get him through Vs. and most of Vitalogy before he's got to face the real world again, and they'll be a good distraction, will stop him from bothering Jensen before he's allowed. Sometimes he really hates Jensen's no PDA rule, but hell. Doesn't mean he can't make all kinds of plans, in the privacy of his own head.

*

Over the years of flying all over the country—all over the world, now, with the conventions overseas—they've pretty well perfected getting out of an airport in record time, and from wheels-down at Austin-Bergstrom it takes them less than an hour to pull into their driveway. Home's a gorgeous spread on the lake, a long private drive and mature trees all over the grounds. The house is a compromise: Jensen thought it was too much space, and Jared thought the layout was too weird, but the private dock won them both over. Jared's gladder every day that they pulled the trigger, though, and gladder still that they've been able to maintain some semblance of privacy. No Insta-pictures here, no interviewers allowed. Means that when Jensen pulls the Range Rover into the garage there's no one trying to peep in and see what they're doing, no weird fans or photographers to see Jared lean over as soon as Jensen puts it into park and palm his jaw and pull him in and kiss him. Startled at first, but then he smiles against Jared's mouth and kisses back, slow and shallow.

"You've been waiting to do that all day," Jensen murmurs, when Jared pulls back, and Jared shrugs, not denying it. He's been waiting to do a lot more. He drags his thumb over the beginnings of Jensen's beard again, looks at him. The garage's huge windows let in a wave of late-morning light, casts gold over Jensen's eyes, sparks his lashes and stubble golden-red. Shows off his freckles, and the shine on his lip that Jared left. He touches there, a swell of heat in his belly, and Jensen smiles again but catches his hand before he can do more. "C'mon. Let's get this done."

Jared sighs. "Do we have to?" Jensen only rolls his eyes, and kisses Jared's thumb. "Fine," Jared says, "but you owe me."

"Oh, I bet," Jensen says, but he swings out of the car then, too, and Jared's got no choice but to follow. There are things they should do, it's true. And hell, they have today off, and tomorrow too, before they have to fly back to Vancouver. They have time. They've made the time.

Jensen's in charge of sorting out the laundry, because he says that he can't trust Jared to empty the pockets right—total lies—and so Jared takes the time to go through the house, room by room. Saying hello, and checking up, too. They've got paid caretakers, gardeners and Maricela who comes by twice a week to dust up and clean, but it's still their house. Jared misses it, like a dope, when they're gone. Most of the curtains are drawn, by Maricela's habit, and he opens them up, lets all the light in. The living room, the den, the lounge where they regularly trounce Steve at pool, when they actually get to be home. The kitchen, and there the little neat list Maricela left of things she had to buy, things she threw out, and a note that she made salsa and left it in the fridge.

That's where Jensen finds Jared, when he comes back downstairs with a laundry basket. "I see you're hard at work," he says, dry, but he lets Jared put a salsa-laden chip in his mouth anyway, and hums. Damn right. Maricela's tomatillo salsa is worth taking a break for. "Mm, okay," Jensen says, through a full mouth. "Okay, fair. But, dude."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jared says, and caps the salsa back up, promising to get back to it later.

He goes and plugs in both of their phones, and sits in the office with the window open, jasmine-smell pouring in, while he emails their reps. A handful of pictures they each took, to be parted out on their SM for the fans to get excited about over the next few days, and a couple of quotes and stories to write up. Jared gave up control of his Twitter a year or two ago after the last time he had a bad day and was an idiot, and Jensen took his phone right out of his hand and grabbed him around the waist and said, Enough, Jay. Annoying at the time, but honestly, it's so much more relaxing to just be… cut off.

Still, sometimes he does like to see what people are posting. That photographer who's been following them around got some good shots, looks like. He scrolls through the feed. Nice pictures of the ladies—Brianna and Kim have really been glamming it up lately—and he laughs hard enough at a ridiculous cap of Misha that he has to text it over, with no comment, and a minute later gets a brief I hate you in response. He grins, tosses his phone back down to charge, and finally ventures into some of the fan shots in the hashtag. He's trained himself pretty well not to read the commentary—the options seem to be either fawning, which is uncomfortable, or vile, which is what it is—but from what he can't help but see people seem to have enjoyed it. Since they moved in together, some of the nuttier girls have gone off the deep end, but for the most part things quieted down. Now there's just a lot of happy encouragement sent their way. A lot of real, intense messages, too, and questions at conventions he wishes he had a better answer for. If only they'd managed to make it happen when those it gets better videos were going around. It got so much better, he wants to say. Not perfect, because nothing's perfect and never should be, but oh, man. It got a lot better.

"That's a good one," he hears, and blinks back to reality, after who knows how long. The picture on the screen's one of them—of course, one of them—taken by one of the girls in the audience. From the angle Jensen's face is the only one visible, and he looks… Well, really, Jared's the only one who should see him like that. The girls are always clever with their timing, though. Jensen comes up and leans over the back of his chair. "You know when that was?"

Jared shrugs. "Yesterday?" he says, and Jensen flicks the back of his shoulder. It's true, though—on stage everything turns into a blur. They were doing a bit, probably, because they usually are, but they're basically hugging. No PDA, that's always Jensen's rule, but there's no way Jared's not going to hug Jensen, given the opportunity. No matter how earsplitting the response.

"You don't remember?" Jensen says, and Jared looks up, over his shoulder. He's getting an amused look. "So you're just a little shit without even planning it?"

"I'm an enormous shit, thank you very much," Jared says, immediately, but then he remembers. "Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah, he says," Jensen says, rolling his eyes, and then shoves Jared's shoulder so the chair spins when Jared laughs. "Yeah, laugh it up. Like I wasn't trying to think about saggy ass and reshoots in the rain when you were just grinning up a storm, shithead."

Jared catches him around the waist, still chuckling. "I really didn't mean to," he says, and it's—mostly honest. Jensen folds his arms, playing irritated, but Jared's been watching him about to break for a gag reel for over a decade now and he can see the cracks. He stands up, still holding onto his waist, and gets right up in his space, looking down, grinning. "Not my fault you're all hot and bothered for my bod."

That gets him a snort, and he leans down and takes a kiss while Jensen's smiling. That was—yeah, he remembers now. Right there, in front of everyone, and he'd gotten to come in close and hold Jensen's body and he'd brushed his mouth against the top of Jensen's ear, and the little sound Jensen made wasn't one the mics would pick up. He pulls back, now, and watches Jensen licks his lips. Tasting them both. God, it's hot when he does that. Jared keeps hold of his waist and walks him backwards, pressing him up against the wall between the signed Pearl Jam poster and Jensen's framed Willie records, and Jensen's eyes are closed, his ears going red, and that's a perfect opportunity to lean in and down and breathe against his ear again, to brush his lips there, to feel Jensen give that full-body shiver that means—oh, yeah. They're on.

"Like that?" Jared says, and Jensen punches him soft in the gut. He says oof, obligingly, but he's smiling.

"Right in front of everybody," Jensen says, looking up. He licks his lips again, his eyes on Jared's mouth. "You know that drives me crazy, Jay."

"Yeah, I know," Jared says, shrugging, and Jensen rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Jared's bicep, too, curves in close, and Jared kisses him again and thinks, well, maybe he'll be in some trouble—later.

They've been together a long time, though. It's not a crazy, heady rush—not even close to their first time, all shock and teeth and shoving, good and painful and intense enough that Jared thought his heart would just beat right out of his chest. Jensen holds his arm, holds him close there against the wall, kisses him soft and lazy. He makes a little pleased noise when Jared scrapes teeth over his lip, tips his nose against Jared's. "Wanna shower," he mumbles, and Jared groans, stands up straight. With Jensen down to his socks, pressed back against the wall, Jared's got the advantage, and Jensen—yeah, that's working for him. Another thing about being together this long: Jared knows exactly how to push every button.

He lets Jensen lead the way down the hall to their bedroom, and then to the huge open bath. "Music?" Jared says, and Jensen shrugs, and so Jared flips through his phone and finds the playlist with the name Jensen hates: funky grooves to fuck to—but the name's accurate. Slow grinds, heavy bass, and when it comes on to the surround speakers Jensen pauses in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt to give Jared a look over his shoulder. Jared only grins and shrugs at him, perching his ass on the bathroom counter, and Jensen gives a sigh but he keeps stripping, so it's all good in Jared's book.

Big window across the back wall of the bathroom, letting in more of that syrupy daylight. They haven't been able to get out much lately and Jensen's skin has gone all creamy again, freckles fainter, except on his cheekbones and hands where they never really fade. He flips on the shower, strips off his jeans, and he doesn't look at Jared when he steps under the water, which is just as well because Jared's pretty sure he's got a dorky goddamn look on his face. Years and years of this and he's used to most of it, even sometimes takes some of what they have for granted. Jensen naked and shining in the sunlight, though, that's—a lot, no matter what. Jensen letting him see, when he used to be almost shy—that's more, sometimes, than Jared knows how to take.

That first time isn't the one Jared thinks about, much. Too much booze in both of them, and too much of a chance for regret. The second time, that's the one he thinks of as their real anniversary. That night, at Jensen's apartment in Vancouver, and the doorman had let Jared up because he saw Jared about as much as he saw Jensen, and that meant that Jared got all the way up there fueled on adrenaline and hope and knocked on the door before he thought that maybe, maybe Jensen wouldn't—that maybe they'd broken something, between them, and putting it back together wasn't in the cards. When Jensen opened the door he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt Jared had given him, and he was wearing his glasses, and the look on his face was—Jared's never forgotten that. That exact moment, right then. What came after was almost immaterial, compared to that single second.

What came after wasn't exactly a hardship, though, and between them they've always been good at this. When Jared steps under the spray and touches all that wet soft skin Jensen doesn't flinch, but only tips backward, knowing Jared will balance him. "What if I just dropped you?" Jared says, and Jensen huffs, turning so the shower scatters over his shoulders.

"You think that'll increase your chances of getting any," Jensen says, sliding his hands up Jared's chest, "go ahead and try it."

It's a great shower, multiple showerheads and plenty of room for two. They pass soap back and forth between them, getting clean-ish, and Jensen spends some time mapping the muscle in Jared's back, his ass, his thighs. In return Jared washes Jensen's hair, just to massage his scalp and neck and feel the way he almost purrs in response, and presses kisses all over his shoulders when he's done. He's always loved this part—broad, undeniably masculine, perfect. "What do you want?" he says, leaning in, and he's really asking. They have all day, they can do anything.

Jensen's hand finds his hip, squeezes. His head tips, and Jared finds the curve of his ear again, kisses at the back of it. Gets another shiver, Jensen's shoulders pressing wet and warm against his chest. "I want it…" Jensen trails off, and shakes his head. He detaches Jared's hand from his waist, lifts it, presses his mouth against Jared's knuckles soft and wet and shocking-hot, and his eyes when they meet Jared's are heavy, dark, steady.

Dried off, laid out on their bed with the music still playing, Jensen leans over Jared's chest and kisses him, open-mouthed and taking his time about it. He's always loved kissing and Jared's come to love it too, even if he always used to think of it as just a preamble when he was younger. Jensen's taught him a lot, over the years. How good it is just to lay together, and how good a silk-blend coverlet feels against his skin, and how the point of his jaw can get almost painfully sensitive when Jensen's hands are buried in his hair, and Jensen's mouth moves there, and his teeth scrape against that open curve of bone. "Jesus," Jared says, squirming like he always does, and Jensen laughs, ducks down and bites at his collarbone instead, and oh, yeah. Things Jared never knew he liked, never knew were even a thing. Jensen squeezes at his dick, heavy already with blood and wanting, but it's not a yanking goad into getting along with things—it's just familiar, almost kind. Hello.

More things Jared didn't know: how much Jensen likes it, that Jared's bigger than him. He pushes Jensen onto his back, after a while of Jensen playing, and rolls in so he's hovering, blocking Jensen from the sunlight, and they're pressed against each other hip to hip but Jared's still got five inches on him—four, if Jensen's lying to the press—and Jensen's already flushed, already hard, all open and ready for it, but his lips part in that fantastic turned-on way, getting Jared above him, and Jared smiles, slides his hand down Jensen's side. Other things Jared didn't know: how much he'd like that Jensen wanted him bigger. "Want to suck my dick?" Jared says, soft, and Jensen's eyes screw closed, his hips flinch up into Jared's, but he breathes out a moan, and Jared lifts up, shuffles up the bed on his knees, and Jensen wraps an arm around his hips and a hand around his dick and sucks it in, practiced, easy. So slick, soft, and Jared sighs and cups a hand around the back of his head to support him and fucks in, shallow but good. Middle-of-the-night whispering, years ago, and Jensen had admitted he liked the way his jaw felt sore, after, and Jared had almost busted a nut just thinking about it—easy enough to indulge Jensen, especially when it feels this goddamn good.

"You look incredible," he says, being nothing but honest. Pink flush over his cheekbones to his ears, streaking down his throat—his perfect mouth broken open over the thickness of Jared's dick—and he opens his eyes, looks up as he slides down as far as he can go, the head threatening his throat, and the slight sheen of tears is just—god, god, how did Jared ever get this lucky? He pulls back, all the way out with his prick gleaming all over with Jensen's wet, the vein gleaming, and Jensen sucks in a deep breath, licks his lips, and groans when Jared slides all the way deep again, and digs his nails into Jared's ass to keep him going.

They've got enough practice that Jared won't come from this, but god is it tempting. A long, slow rut in, and he knows Jensen could take it faster, but that's not how he wants to play it. He pulls out when his nuts start to clutch up for real, and Jensen gasps and holds his hips and says, rasping, "Fuck," and Jared can't do anything but agree. He leans down, dick dragging wet over Jensen's stomach while he finds his lips to kiss them, tasting himself, massaging the sore worked muscle in Jensen's cheeks. "Good?" he says, and Jensen moans, holds him, thighs clutching around Jared's hips when they settle together. He's still hard, harder, pressing thick against Jared's abs, and Jared tries to keep his head clear but it's tough, honestly, when he has Jensen like this.

"Tell me what you want?" he says, lips on Jensen's cheek, at the corner of his eye where tears leaked, when Jared pushed too deep. "C'mon, talk to me, tell me."

"Fucker," Jensen breathes, pressing up into him. "You know."

"Yeah," Jared says, against his temple, "but I want you to tell me anyway."

A game, sometimes. How raw he can get Jensen to be. "Fuck me," Jensen says, voice sore, and Jared laughs, breathless and delighted, his gut clutching up crazily at how good that sounds out of Jensen's mouth.

"How?" he says, pushing his luck, and Jensen pushes at his chest, forces him up so they can look at each other, and Jensen's eyes are nearly black and his lips are battered-red, and he says, "Like this," unexpected and low and soft, his fingers touching Jared's throat, and he says, "I want to see you," and Jared swallows, nods, doesn't have to say anything else.

Jensen doesn't need much prep anymore, and Jared doesn't want to make him wait. Slicked up, he dips his thumb in and watches Jensen's mouth part, and then he gathers Jensen's thigh up against his side and leans in close and pushes his dick inside, blooming past the resistance, going slow, and watches all of Jensen's attention turn inward. They've traded back and forth on this and Jared knows the feeling, that crazy stretch—but oh, from this side, that clutching tightness, squeeze of Jensen's body, feeling him all the way, it's like—nothing else. No one else. "Yeah?" he says, pointless, like he doesn't know, and Jensen blinks, refocuses, sinks his hand into Jared's hair and turns his face away from the sunlight and presses his lips against Jared's bicep, and he mumbles, slow, and Jared takes it like the command it is, and stays buried up close with his heart throbbing in his gut for a full minute before he twists his hips back and presses in again, following the beat of the slow bass playing, a steady pulsing rock. Jensen groans, his back arching, and Jared buries his face in Jensen's throat and does his duty, fucking good and deep and slow, giving everything he can, as long as he can.

The sounds Jensen makes—the smell of him, the sweat between them. Jared keeps his eyes closed, feels his skin, his pulse throbbing under Jared's lips. His balls ache but it's that sweet ache of a good fuck, his muscles humming like he's midway through a marathon. Jensen's got an arm wrapped around his neck, a hand on his chest, his legs clutched up high around Jared's waist, and inside he's melting-soft, broken-open-wet, his dick leaking slick all over Jared's stomach. Slow like this, Jared's not chasing anything and he gets to feel every inch, his skin an oversensitive tingle, hot from his lips to his nipples to his fingertips, overaware of every place they're touching.

Too hot, finally—the sun's sunk down, slicing through the bedroom windows, making the bed a pool of light. "Oh, god," Jared says, sliding a hand to Jensen's hip, squeezing. He rolls his forehead against Jensen's collarbone, humps in and stays there, pressed deep, grinding, so Jensen makes a hiccupy noise keep in his chest. "Yeah, that's it. Come on."

"Fuck," Jensen says, squirming against him, and his legs fall open, his thighs shaking. "Oh, I—Jay—yeah, come on, do it."

Jared drags in a breath, pushes up, finds Jensen red-faced and sweaty, his shoulders and chest shining. "Yeah?" he says, but there's no answer—he shoves in, harder, and Jensen lifts into it and groans, gripping at Jared's ass to pull him in deeper, and then that's—that's it. All the permission Jared needed, and he fucks like he means it, then, long deep in-and-out that's dragging at the absolute limits of his control, but he wants to get Jensen there first—and he's getting there, Jared knows he is, by how his hands clutch and his chest is heaving and how his dick's a dark urgent swell against his belly, dragging between them, a trail of wet spilling down Jensen's side. He balances on one arm and slides careful fingers around Jensen's balls, rubs them warm and tucks them up close against Jensen's body, and Jensen opens his eyes and stares at him, looking surprised somehow in the middle of all this. "Come on, baby," Jared whispers, slipping his thumb over the strained wet root of Jensen's pretty dick, and Jensen grabs at his arm and arches up and comes, finally, spurting all over his soft belly, his body straining and clutching at Jared's and ah, ah fuck, Jared did that for him, Jared made that happen—and Jared fucks him through it, keeps up that same steady pace and nails him right there where he needed it, where he wanted it as long as he could get it, until Jensen's thighs cringe and he presses his fingers against Jared's belly and he makes a low pained ah—and Jared pulls back, out, into cruel cold air for a half-second before he strips his dick as fast as he can go, the visual in front of him more than enough—Jensen sprawled and sweat-soaked and well-fucked, shuddering and sensitive, and his eyes open and his fingers curl against Jared's sides and he says, yeah, give it to me, show me, and Jared shoots over his knuckles, spatters Jensen's hip and the still-thick curve of his dick and his thigh, and Jensen sighs, as satisfied as though it were him who got to come a second time. He reaches for Jared, easy demand, and Jared goes, collapsing down onto the welcome stretch of his body, smearing everything between them, and it's worth it to find Jensen's mouth, soft, starting once again to smile.

[taegis-gf]

A little help from my friend - Part 1

Summary: You’re a virgin and you’ve been on a few dates with Jeon Jungkook, someone you know to be experienced. You decide to ask Taehyung to help you out.

Jungkook x Reader

Taehyung x Reader

Rated M for Mature - smut, oral (f+m receiving), virgin!reader

“I really enjoyed tonight.” You said as you arrived at your apartment building with your date by your side. This was your second date with Jeon Jungkook and you liked him. A lot. He was your ideal type; a little shy but had to ability to hold a room with his charisma and character, he had the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen and his smile was infectious. “Me too.” He replied. For a moment he stood looking at you and you knew what he wanted you to say, and if you were being honest you wanted to say it too, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “Well... I would like to definitely do this again if you do…” You trailed off, hoping he would take the hint. Thankfully he did, breaking out of whatever small trance he was in and nodded. “Yeah, definitely I’ll give you a call, see you ____.” And with a small peck on the cheek, he was walking away back to his car. You felt your cheeks heat, partly from the kiss but also partly from embarrassment. As you got into your apartment you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto your bed letting out a long guttural groan of frustration, why couldn’t you have just invited him up? It was clear what you both had wanted but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Why? Well, the fact that you were a huge virgin was about the whole of it. That had been your second date with Jeon Jungkook and it couldn’t have been better; he picked you up, took you out for dinner, you had gone bowling and then he had dropped you off, and the entire time he couldn’t have been sweeter, he had made you laugh and he even paid for everything. Not to mention he was drop-dead gorgeous, he was way out of your league and the fact he’d even offered a second date had been a shock.

You had met Jungkook through your friend Taehyung who had offered to set you up, it was out of the blue and had taken you by surprise but you had agreed to it, unsure of what the mysterious boy even looked like you had rolled up to the café he wanted to meet in and had almost audibly gasped when he stood up to greet you. “I may have cheated a little bit and asked Taehyung for a pic so I didn’t embarrass myself by saying hello to the wrong girl.” He had stated at the time with a small smile and it had made you laugh. “Wow you’re smart, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” You had responded. And that was all she wrote, you had a great time with him, fascinated by his beauty and way with words, he truly was charming.

But now, here you lay, more frustrated than ever. You hated the fact this was holding you back, but you were too embarrassed to let this boy know you had never had sex. What if you got him into your bed and the idea repulsed him, how could he ever have sex with a girl who didn’t know what she was doing? And it wasn’t even sex, it was everything; you were by far the most sexually inexperienced adult you knew of. Yes, an adult, a 21-year-old virgin, god, even thinking about it embarrassed you. And it wasn’t even that you were insecure or had some traumatic reason. It was merely the fact it just hadn’t happened. Your teenage years had offered you many chances but you had just turned down every single one, telling yourself you weren’t even that interested and it would happen sometime else anyway. But here you were, 21, and still, no sex, heck not even a sleazy handjob, how had you let it come to this? You cursed yourself for a moment suddenly regretting not having sex with one of Taehyung’s friends who had offered one drunk night, what had his name been? Johnny? Either way it didn’t matter now, that time had well passed. Your phone buzzed at your side, and you checked to see Taehyung was calling you. “Hello?” You answered, why was he calling you straight after the date? “So! I’m just off the phone with Jungkook and he said he thinks you’re not interested in him, what did you do?” He asked and you could almost feel the judgement seeping through the phone. “What? I am interested, just because I didn’t invite him for sex doesn’t mean I don’t like him.” You retorted, annoyed at him. “It’s not that, he said he walked you to your apartment and you were super tense, almost like you couldn’t wait for him to leave.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes “God you two are like 12-year-old girls! That’s not how I intended it to look, I just said goodnight! Does he really think I’m not interested?” You asked, suddenly nervous. You heard Taehyung shuffle around in his apartment before he put the phone back up to his ear and continued. “That’s what he said to me, but if you want I can convince him otherwise, tell him you’re a shy baby and you do really like him.” You rolled your eyes again, you had to have been friends with one of the most obnoxious person on the planet, but he did have a point. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. I’ll text him, I got this.” You said. “Have sex with him, that’s how I know a girl is always interested,” Taehyung said matter of factly. You hung up, not in the mood for his antics. Maybe he had a point, maybe you could invite Jungkook round tomorrow, maybe you were brave enough to just go for it? You never know until you try you thought before grabbing your phone again and typing out a text to ask Jungkook around for a movie tomorrow night. * Your stomach was practically doing flips by the time 7pm rolled around the next night, you had snacks laid out and the movie you’d both agreed on ready to play so when Jungkook knocked on your door you almost yelped at the prospect that this might actually happen. You opened the door to him and you could’ve begun drooling right there and then. You had told him to dress comfy so here he was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tee, was he trying to kill you? “Hey come sit down, I’ve got the movie ready to go.” You said, hoping your nerves weren’t showing. “You’re apartment’s nice.” He said, slowing looking around. “Thanks, it’s not that nice, it’s definitely on the cheaper side, but I do what I can to make it more homely.” As he walked over and sat down you followed him sitting beside him. “I really hope you didn’t pick this movie because you thought I’d be jumping and hiding in your arms when I get scared.” You said to him as you lifted the remote and hit play. “Most definitely not, I’m a fan of horror.” He replied, with a smile. You gave him a small scoff, before jumping up and turning off all the lights. “Adds to the ambience.” You said before sitting down beside him again and pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and throwing it over the both of you. You strangely didn’t feel weird about doing something so intimate on the 3rd date, there was something about Jungkook, a soothing aura, and you didn’t feel awkward or anxious around him. You ended up eating your words in the end, you had squeezed yourself so close to Jungkook you could feel the heat from his body and you were throwing your face into his side every chance you got when something scared you enough to make you jump. Jungkook laughed when you did, seemingly unaffected by the fact people were being killed by supernatural forces at the most unexpected times. “How are you not even jumping at this?” You whined into his shoulder. “It’s really not that scary _____.” he said,  “anyway, I think it’s over.” You looked up to see the screen going dark and the credits rolling. Jungkook began to stretch his limbs, letting out a long yawn. “I’m beat.” He said. “I think I’m gonna drive home before it gets any later.” You made a noise of protest “No, you can’t leave right now, I need something to get my mind off that movie so I can sleep tonight.” You said with a small pout. “How can I help with that?” He asked, genuinely confused. You internally shook yourself. You can do this, you thought. He wants this too, you reminded yourself. At least I hope he does was your last thought before you sat up a little, leaned in and kissed him. Jungkook immediately returned the kiss, sighing into it a little, with what you assumed was relief. Maybe he really had thought this was going nowhere. You wanted to reassure him. Let him know how much you wanted this.

You kissed him hard, not really caring about going slow; you had made him wait for a kiss long enough, heck you’d waited long enough. Jungkook brought his hand up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss and with that you decided to run your hands through his hair, wanting to feel the silky locks since you’d first laid eyes on him, Jungkook let out a soft moan at your actions and the sound went straight to your core, causing your stomach to coil in anticipation. You felt brave, so brave in fact you lifted your leg and threw it over his thighs, straddling him. Jungkook welcomed your actions immediately bringing his hands down to your hips, pulling you close to him. Was this it? You wondered as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting him take control. The sensations felt amazing, every touch igniting a spark which sent a signal straight to your core, making it throb painfully, but it was such a delicious pain you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. “You’re so unbelievably sexy.” Jungkook whispered, when you had pulled away to breathe, resting your forehead against his. And that’s when something snapped in you, all of a sudden you felt too hot and too nervous, you couldn’t possibly do this. You were still breathing heavy, “I uh, I have an early morning, but I wanna see you again… is that okay?” Jungkook blinked, realising you were no longer into it he took his hands off you, giving you a reassuring smile. “Yeah of course.” You suddenly felt awkward about your position and pulled yourself off him, standing up and he followed in suit. “Sorry I just remembered I gotta get up at 7, take my friend to the airport.” You lied, rubbing the back of your neck, you felt like a tease and you were most definitely a bright shade of red. “It’s fine.” He said with a smile, “I just hope I can see you again soon. I really enjoy spending time with you.” “Me too.” You replied walking him to the door. He looked down at you, giving you a small sweet press of his lips, before saying his goodbyes and leaving. You sighed as soon as you closed your door sinking to the floor, you were way in over your head, and you needed to solve your problem. Fast. * The next morning you were awakened by the sound of your phone harshly buzzing beside you, through your grogginess you swiped it open answering with a tired sounding “Hello?” “Hello, sunshine!” Taehyung’s cheery voice yelled down the phone, which made you cringe pulling it away from your ear. “My boy Jungkook said you blue-balled him last night.” He began, no formalities. You sat up a little stretching your limbs. “He said that?” You asked a little shocked. “Well, he didn’t use those words exactly, my dude is far too nice, but I’m just letting you know what you did, he said you were into it and then all of a sudden you couldn’t get him out fast enough.” You sighed loudly. “God I know, I’m an idiot.” Taehyung chuckled, “Well what happened?” You tensed up a little, you couldn’t exactly tell Taehyung you’d freaked out because you were inexperienced. “I just…wasn’t in the mood.” You said, trailing off a little. “Really? I mean from what he told me you sounded very in the mood.” He said and you could practically see his teasing smirk with the way he spoke. “Do guys have a little powerpoint rundown of what happened after every date they go on?” You asked, a little frustrated and annoyed “Not really, I’m just nosy and I pry.” He stated. You groaned. “Taehyung I need to talk to you, as much as I hate you, you give good advice, can we meet up later?” “Yeah sure whatever, text me!” He said and with that, he hung up. It must be nice to be as carefree as your good friend Taehyung was, never really becoming close as a best friend, he was still a constant in your life and you had to admit it, as annoying as he could be, he was still a nice charming dude, not to mention he was really attractive but definitely not the kind of guy you’d date- You cut yourself off, mid-thought when an idea popped inside your head. Was Taehyung the answer to your problem? I mean he wasn’t the worst guy in the world to lose it to and you were pretty sure he’d say yes. You caught yourself in the moment, what were you thinking? You couldn’t just straight up ask Taehyung if he’d help you…by having sex with you…could you? As the day went on you slowly pondered and toyed with the idea.

The pros; it would give you experience and you could finally do the stuff you wanted to do with Jungkook without having a mild panic attack interrupt you. The cons; it would mean having sex with Kim Taehyung, a known fuckboy and not to mention an all-out nuisance, also...what if he told Jungkook? As you sent a text to Taehyung to told him to come to your apartment whenever he could and he responded, telling you he’d be over ASAP. Shit, you’d thought he was at least going to be a few hours. As about a half-hour passed, you’d come to the conclusion you were going to ask him, I mean, why not? As nervous as you were, you were nowhere near as nervous as when you knew Jungkook was coming over, so when Taehyung finally knocked on your door you greeted him with a cool smile. “Hey, loser your humble king has arrived.” He said, breezing past you and making himself comfortable on your sofa, he had been here plenty of times so you couldn’t really fault him on that. “What did you wanna talk about? Is it Jungkook, does he have a tiny penis? I knew-” “Taehyung.” You began, cutting him off. “Will you have sex with me?” Taehyung’s eyes widened and for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t seem to have some cocky retort for something you’d had just said. “W-what?” He asked, not sure he heard you right the first time. “I’m asking you honestly right now, no fucking about, will you have sex with me?” Taehyung sat in silence for a moment, confusion etched into his features. “Is this some kind of joke? Is Jungkook recording me as we spe-” “No- listen, let me explain.” You began. “That would be helpful.” He said. “I uh, here’s the thing.” You said, taking a deep breath, you’d never told anyone this before, only one of your closest friends. “I’m a virgin. And I’m too afraid to have sex with Jungkook, but I really like him and I think he’s gonna lose interest soon enough if I don’t do something with him, but I was hoping you could…you know…help me out.” Taehyung sat there and processed your words for a moment before he finally spoke. “I don’t understand…why can’t you just let it happen with Jungkook then, naturally?”                                                                                                          You sighed. “I tried that last night and I got too in my own head about it, freaked myself out, can you picture how embarrassing it would have been if he whipped it out and I had no idea what I was doing?” Taehyung chuckled a little are your words and you hit his shoulder.

“Don’t be like that…please just help me out. I know it’s a lot to ask and if things get too weird we can stop. Look,” You said jumping off the couch and grabbing a box off your T.V stand, “I even bought condoms.” “Wait… you wanna do this right now?” Taehyung asked. “I mean if you’re not busy…why not? If we do this now who knows I could be having sex with Jungkook on our next date.” “____ ... you ever think about chilling the fuck out?” He asked, laughing a little. You made a low whine. “Please, I know this is literally insane, but you will be doing me such a big favour.”                                                                           After a small moment of silence, Taehyung spoke.

“Okay fine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Now it was your turn to be shocked. “You will?” You asked. “Yeah, I mean, I’m just helping you out, right? As a friend? Then it’s no big deal.” You nodded slowly. “Ye-Yes okay. Thank you.” “Freaked out it’s actually happening?” Taehyung asked. “Most definitely.” You replied. * “So…how do we start this thing?” You asked. “Jesus ____. What did you do with Jungkook last night?” He asked. “I kissed him, straddled him, you know.” You said with a slight shrug. Taehyung sat back and made himself comfortable, all of a sudden acting as cool as a cucumber. “So let’s start there.” You almost audibly squeaked. “I have to- I mean- we have to kiss?” “Well how else are you gonna get in the mood? Have you ever heard of foreplay?” “Okay okay I get it! Geez.” You said, scooting towards him. You leaned in a little, looking at him, he really was beautiful, maybe you could focus on that. “Okay I’m gonna do it.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut and moving in to press your lips against his. The initial contact was awkward, just a light press of your lips touching for a few seconds before Taehyung decided to get the ball rolling. He placed a hand at your jaw and began moving his lips slowly letting you fall into the rhythm. You were left a little in shock at Taehyung’s responsiveness, he was kissing you in such a soft intimate way you couldn’t help but kiss him back. As the kiss became a little more heated you let yourself throw your leg over Taehyung’s thighs, straddling them like you had done with Jungkook just the night before. Taehyung, unlike Jungkook, wasted no time and immediately brought his hands down to your ass, grabbing a little harshly. You let out a soft unintentional moan into Taehyung’s mouth and quickly pulled away; embarrassed your body had just betrayed you. “What’s wrong? If it was that noise you just made, don’t worry, that was fucking hot.” Taehyung said, and you didn’t even respond, just stared at his face. He was flushed, his lips swollen and his pupils were blown out with lust, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so good, so you just leaned in and began kissing him again. As the kiss grew hotter you slowly slipped your tongue into Taehyung’s mouth and as he began to suck on your tongue a little it sent a shock of pleasure to your core. You let out a low pitch whine, moving forward while circling your hips. You needed some relief, some friction, anything. So when your crotch came in contact with Taehyung’s clothed half-hard dick, you groaned at the feeling and so did Taehyung. “Holy shit.” You said as you pulled away from him. “I’ve- uh-never done this before Taehyung, like any of it.” “Hey if you don’t want to anymore, it’s fine, you can always try again some other time.” He said moving his hand to your hair and tucking it behind your ear, the gesture itself was full of affection and it reassured you. “I really want to Taehyung, I want to. I just need you to give me some pointers, tell me what feels good?” You looked down at his crotch as you spoke, staring at his very noticeable bulge straining through his jeans. “Can I…can I give you a blowjob?” You asked. Taehyung let out a small breathy laugh. “I mean… if that’s what you want to do.” He said. You got off Taehyung and positioned yourself beside him, your stomach doing flips as Taehyung lifted his hips and slid off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers. You lowered your hand and ran it over his very visible outline, feeling his hard cock trapped within the confines of his boxers made your stomach coil with pleasure, your core throbbing with need. Taehyung let out a small groan, whispering a low swear under his breath. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and Taehyung lifted his hips for you, letting you slowly pull them down until his cock sprang free, shocking you a little at the sheer size. “Jesus Christ Tae it’s massive.”  You said, biting your lip in anticipation. You saw it twitch a little and wondered if that anything to with your compliment. “Please do something ____, you’re driving me a little crazy here.” He said, sounding a little breathless. You took a small breath before reaching over and wrapping your hand around the top you gave him a light squeeze to gauge his reaction. The way he threw his head back and groaned was enough to satisfy you. You realised it wasn’t enough and moved your hand away to bring your head down you mouth nearing closer to his cock. “Do I just wrap my lips around it?” You asked. “Yeah…” Taehyung said through heavy breaths. “Just uh watch your teeth.” You smiled a little before placing your mouth on him just gently sucking on the tip at first. Taehyung, in response, bucked his hips up pushing himself deeper into your mouth. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, bringing his hips down again. “My bad.” You looked up at him, letting him know it was okay. “Jesus Christ, do you know how fucking hot you look with your mouth on my cock?” You let out a low moan at his words and Taehyung shuddered with pleasure. You began moving, bringing your head further down until you took him in as much as you could, his tip almost touching the back of your throat. You pulled nearly all the way off him again and repeated your actions. Hearing the moans and noises Taehyung was making was causing your core to throb and you knew you wanted him inside you. Badly. After a few minutes you finally pulled off of him, you needed some relief yourself. “Fucking hell ____, that was your first time doing that?” He asked. “I mean yeah…I’m sorry for stopping it’s just I…” “Don’t apologise for that, it felt amazing.” He said, “Do you want me to return the favour? I’d be more than happy too.” You eyes widened at that, the thought was enticing. “I mean…I’m assuming you want me to?” He asked. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, embarrassed to tell him. “Hey,” He began, “Don’t be embarrassed to ask a guy what you want from him, especially if you just had his dick in your mouth babe.” He said with a small chuckle. Your core throbbed again at the pet name he had used for you and you felt yourself nodding, letting him know you wanted it. “Okay, lay back on the sofa, I’ll make this as easy as possible for you.” You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy as you lay back, Taehyung coming towards you and leaning down to kiss you again. As he did he started kissing at your neck, slowing unbuttoning your jeans you lifted your hips for him as he pulled them down along with your underwear leaving you suddenly bare from the waist down. He moved his body down and soon enough his tongue was on you - circling your clit, you moaned loudly at the sensation. “Fuck, oh my god.” You breathed out as he began sucking on it, his fingers teasing your entrance. “Is it okay if I put a finger in?” He asked, pulling away from a moment. “Mm yes, Tae please fill me.” You practically whined with need. Taehyung got back to work slowly pushing a finger into you and it wasn’t soon before he added another making you cry out in pleasure. “Taehyung holy fuck.” You moaned, pulling at his hair and you felt your stomach coil in pleasure. Your breathing was heavy as you neared your orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. “Taehyung stop…I want you to fuck me.” You said. “Right now? Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded and Taehyung moved so that he was on top of you again. “Okay. Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked again, looking you in the eye. “Please.” Was all you said. Taehyung gave you a small nod, “Okay let me grab a condom.” He said, getting up of the sofa and as he did he pulled of his t-shirt and you couldn’t help but admired his body; the golden skin and his toned torso, he really was beautiful. As he came back and positioned himself comfortably you gave him a small nod to let him know you were ready. You felt the tip tease at your entrance and gave a small gasp when it slipped in. “You okay?” Taehyung asked. You nodded, not trusting your own voice. As he pushed in the whole way you winced a little at the pain but didn’t stop him, you could bear it. “How does it feel?” He asked, his breathing heavy. “It hurts a little, but it doesn’t feel that bad.” You replied honestly. “Okay, I’m gonna move now,” he said, taking a deep breath, “You are so fucking tight.” As you relaxed a little Taehyung pulled out of you, not all the way, before pushing back in. “Keep going…that feel’s good Tae.” You said. Taehyung began to get a rhythm going as you began to lift up your hips to meet his pace. “Ah fuck, you feel amazing.” Taehyung said and you could only moan in response. “I hope this is better than you had expected.” “Hm, so much better than I had expected, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this.” You said, feeling your orgasm slowly build, you brought your hand down and began to rub at your clit. “Are you close?” He asked. You nodded moaning loudly as he hit a spot deep inside you. “You look so fucking hot taking my cock.” Taehyung said as he began moving his hips faster. He was fucking you harder now, more determined. It was all too much and sooner rather than later you felt your orgasm begin to build. Fast. “I’m gonna come Tae, fu-fuck.” “Yes babe, come all over my cock.” He encouraged. As Taehyung spoke you found your release, your orgasm washing over you with such intense pleasure you felt tears prick at your eyes. “Fuck oh my god.” You said as you held onto Taehyung. “I’m gonna come if you keep clenching around me like that.” Taehyung said but you could barely even hear him, too wound up in your own pleasure and before you knew he was moaning loudly, your walls milking him dry. “Jesus…Christ, that was…amazing.” You said after finally catching your breath. Taehyung didn’t move for a second clearly too entranced by his own high. Taehyung let out a heavy breath followed by a soft “Fuck.”

[mimiplaysgames]

dammit.

Terraqua Week Day 1: #gummiphone

Summary: A marriage proposal is hard enough - if only Terra didn’t accidentally text his plans to Aqua. @terraquaweek

Read on AO3.

***

Some say facing your biggest fears is like jumping off a cliff - the hardest part is taking that first step, and the momentum will carry you the rest of the way. But who would be crazy enough to do that?

Terra needs a more suitable analogy for his situation. Proposing to someone is kind of a big deal, after all.

Better yet, he’s forging the ring for her. Normally, she’s the creative prowess considering her skill at handling metal; the Wayfinder taking residence in his pocket is proof of that.

Of course, he can’t ask her for help, he can’t let her know. He has alibis to hide what he’s doing. Every time they come to Disney Town, he tucks himself away at the blacksmith’s while she runs off to spend her time mixing potions in case anything happens - including any rowdy occurrences where Keyblades are simply too slow for what needs to be done (she’ll crack a smile and tell him that if he ever gets possessed again, she’ll just poison him to spare herself the trouble, which is fair).

The blacksmith’s is a good cover, since he’s been putting his knowledge of Keyblade armor to good use. Whenever she’s around, she’ll see Riku’s prototype hanging by the furnace. A ring is much easier to hide.

Well, it’s not yet a ring. It’s mostly a plan, Naminé’s crayon-filled blueprints in display on the workbench by his side - a mix of the tiniest sapphires imaginable, because something too flashy just won’t suit Aqua very well (even though she fights fancy).

He has his tools: his face shield, pliers, a torch, a drill, refined silver. Disciplining a hard element such as metal is soothing in a way, reminding him that he can accomplish anything if he puts his mind to it. To see the silver bend to his will, like it’s learning to be proper, is as rewarding as a teacher seeing his student succeed. 

It’s tedious work, perfect for getting in the zone. Welding shields and weapons, and mining for jewels, tests the body, but it passes. It’s not so bad to endure once the work starts.

The idea of marrying her came to him as easily as breathing. Of course he wants her by his side. He wants to wake up next to her every morning. It hurts when she has to leave; it heals when she comes back. Most of all, he will never tire of her smile. Never. 

Asking her to marry him however…

At least with making her ring - making sure the band is smooth and perfect, that the sapphires are placed correctly, that the designs are crisp - he could get lost in the flow and not have to think about his greatest adversary: whether she will say yes or no. 

Well, he could get deeply engrossed and forget about the rest of the world if that stupid Gummiphone would just shut up. 

“I’ve barely started,” he groans. 

It replies by ringing again, more texts. There’s no one out there who would try to contact him this much except for Ven.

“You’ll just have to wait.”

It rings again and Terra grunts, loud enough to be a warning even though the phone isn’t sentient and can’t get the message.

It still won’t stop. 

“I hate this thing,” he mutters to himself as he finally gets up and checks it. Surely he misses the days where friends just visited each other. The phone is very impersonal, and it keeps him connected all the damn time and how in the world can anyone focus this way? The keys on the screen are too small for his big thumbs to type in and it’s especially annoying when it’s late at night. 

The perpetrator is indeed Ventus, so distracting that Terra left behind a rod of silver with a sawed curve at the end. He hasn’t even begun the soldering.

Already a flood of texts fill the phone’s screen.

Ven Have you started working on it? ^^

Ven I wanna see! Take a pic :)

Ven #pleaserespond

Ven Please? ;-;

Ven YOU’RE STALLING D:<

“I don’t know how to take a picture,” he says to the phone.

If there’s anything that’s more overwhelming, it’s managing this dumb thing with the endless list of icons he has to scroll through just to find what he has to do. 

Before he can really investigate, Ventus calls.

Terra brings it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Come on,” he whines on the receiver. 

“I’m trying to, I just don’t understand how to use this stupid thing.”

“Just click on the camera app,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Terra checks the screen, but it’s all black, Ven’s name stretched across the top and the menu completely gone. Of course. He brings it back to his ear. “It’s gone.”

“No it isn’t, you oaf.”

What a tongue. A couple of months in the outside world and suddenly Ventus thinks he can take on anything bigger than him. “You’re spending way too much time with Lea.”

“Look,” Ven starts - which is a strange thing to say, he can’t see what Terra is doing. “Just click the button on the bottom of the phone - not the red one on the screen or it will hang me up.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He’s beginning to regret even telling Ven about the ring.

Terra does as he’s instructed, the black screen swiped away, sending him back to the menu. Ven’s voice yaps to himself through the earpiece - Terra has found the camera and is already taking snaps of his (interrupted) work.

“Hang on, Ven, I’m working on it.”

“WAIT A MINUTE, I CAN’T HEAR YOU. YOU NEED TO PUT ME ON SPEAKER.”

Honestly, the thought of Ventus screaming at a piece of junk pulls a smirk on Terra’s face ever so slightly. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“WHAT?”

“Wait for it.” Terra says into the mouthpiece, hanging him up. It’s easier to stay focused this way. 

He wonders what he should title the text message with the photo. He starts with ‘aquas ring’ but it sounds weird - Ven already knows what it is - so he deletes it.

Just figuring out how to attach the photo is annoying enough. There’s so many better things to learn.

Me happy now

Send.

That should be enough, and he immediately sits back down to continue, assuming that Ven will take the time to gush over it.

But Ven calls again.

“Yes?” 

“You’re ignoring me.” This time he’s serious.

“I sent it.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Maybe it takes time?”

“It’s taking too long.” 

Ventus used to have the greatest patience in the world, always being left behind in the academy. Now after everything that’s happened, he simply stopped seeing the point of waiting around. 

It’s usually endearing in most cases.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Ven?”

“Check if it actually sent.”

Terra sighs - what else is he going to do? - and checks his phone. Swipe away the phone call, open texts. 

What he sees makes him shake.

“No… I sent it to Aqua.” He’s saying that to thin air, and brings it back to his ear to repeat it. “I sent it to Aqua.”

“Seriously?” Now he actually sounds concerned. At first. Then there’s a snicker on the other end.

“How do I take it back?”

“I-” The pause is too long, Ven calming himself after two more laughs escape. “You can’t.”

“I can’t delete it?”

“Yeah, but-”

“How, Ven?”

A door opens and shuts behind him. This isn’t the time to deal with customers.

But it’s Aqua. And her phone is in her hand. Wonderful.

Terra stands in front of his workbench, spreading his arms wide to casually rest them on the surface, hiding as much as possible. 

Of course this leaves Ventus back to talking to himself, his words indecipherable. 

“What is this?” Aqua asks him, showing him the screen where his photo is proudly on display. She’s curious if anything. “What do you mean by ‘happy now’?”

It feels like Terra is about to puke his heart out, and he’ll have no choice but to leave it on the floor to thrash by itself while he pretends to ignore it. 

“Supposed to be a question,” he mumbles.

She cocks both her eyebrows, rolling her lips inward because she knows him well enough to understand that he’s acting ridiculous. “It looks like a wand? I don’t get it?”

He’s too silent, taken too long to reply to Ventus who suddenly screams through the phone, “WHAT’S GOING ON? DON’T WORRY TERRA, I’LL SAVE YOU.”

Terra hangs up.

“He’s being rude,” Aqua says, smiling and shaking her head to herself. She steps closer and if Terra has never felt back pain from standing so stiffly, he does now. “So what are you making?” she asks innocently, like he isn’t about to burn into ashes from the heat in his cheeks. “You never told me about this.”

His heart hammers in his throat. “Something.”

She snorts. “I can see that.”

He points at her phone, the words unable to come so he forces them out. “I was supposed to send that to Ven.”

Aqua double-checks her screen, like she’s trying not to miss something. “What does Ven want with precious jewels?”

But Terra shakes his head, and his refusal to answer actually makes her smile fall. The point was to give her a gift that was completed, refined, perfect because she deserves more than that. “You just have to-”

Trust me. 

She does, even when she hesitates. Even today, after months of sharing a bed, after adjusting to a peaceful life with few Heartless, after re-training themselves to stop expecting something awful to happen in ten minutes and ruin their lives again, he’s never actually asked her to do that. She just does. 

It feels wrong to do so now. 

The sigh he allows to slip is shaky, long, uncontrolled. If there’s anything these insane years have taught him, it’s acceptance. 

He decides to be brave, finally, by looking her in the eyes. “It’s for you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and she leans forward like she’s unsure what she just heard. “You’re making me something with gemstones?”

Then she blinks several times, like she’s just seen the light. Scatters the desk behind him. Licks her lips. Searches his face for the same answer again and again to the question suddenly bursting in her mind. 

“It’s a…” she waits. 

It’s hard to swallow the thumping in his throat, but he does, his eyes starting to sting. “Yeah.”

The gasp she takes in doesn’t leave her mouth, jaw dropping, eyes searching faster until a smile makes itself known. She bites her lips, her teeth showing as her cheeks puff up, and even though she tries to literally wipe herself calmly, her happiness is stronger. She can’t form words, but the laughter and the tears are more than enough.

“Com-” Terra swallows again, outstretching his arms toward her like he’s about to catch her. His own cheeks hurt from his grins. “Compose yourself, Master Aqua.”

The Master before him reminds herself, and she pats her cheeks like she’s trying to wake herself up, but her laughs again win this battle. Aqua throws herself around his neck, taking him in for a hard kiss because, still, words do no justice for the giggles. 

Happiness is something, Terra finds, to be something that needs to be protected the most. There’s something about the emotion that makes him feel like he’s home, but also incredibly vulnerable. Like looking over his shoulder to catch a thief trying to steal it away. 

But this is different. There’s a soreness when she pulls away, like his happiness is starving and she’s only fed it a small snack. It knocks on his chest, knocks on his forehead, knocks and opens through the tears out of his own eyes.

He needs to do it now.

He takes her phone and opens to the text messages, brings his photo to the screen. 

“Ah,” he sighs, “obviously it’s not done, but I guess-”

“M-hm,” she nods quickly, hiding her smile behind her hand. It’s too big to be concealed well.

His cheeks hurt more and he doesn’t know how that’s possible. Bending down on one knee, he holds her phone in the palm of his hand, a photo of a silver rod with a curved tip that still needs to be sawed off, soldered together, and drilled for holes, taking most of the space, with a layout of tiny sapphires arranged in a design that should transfer well if he does his job right. 

“Aqua,” he begins and there goes his heart again, threatening to lurch itself out of his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t allow a single second to take the spotlight, dropping to her knees to embrace him, to kiss him more and more, to mix their tears and their laughs together. 

It makes him forget there ever is a spiteful thief that hates the image of merriment, that in any second Ven can walk in here and ruin the moment. It makes him believe that happiness is as powerful as metal and as immovable as earth, meant to last forever. 

He gives her space to sit on his thigh, gripping her tightly because this happiness, this future in his arms, needs to be nourished. 

Hmm, he definitely should put that in his vows. Suddenly the idea that he has to confess all of these thoughts in a wedding in front of guests is now making him nervous again.

But he has to do it, scared stomach be damned.

“This is practice for the real thing,” he chuckles, essentially telling his nausea to mind its own business.

She grins and all he wants is to make her smile more. “Did you have better plans for asking me?”

“No.” He doesn’t know why he sounds so shaky. “I haven’t begun planning for it just yet.”

She kisses him again. “Can I watch you finish it? I can give you pointers.”

He nods, tracing the lines in her irises with his eyes. “Sure.”

“We can even measure my finger.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They linger there, like they’re expecting it to be unpleasant to peel themselves off each other. 

Aqua, his Aqua, gives him one more nibble on his lip, hugging him like they’ve been reunited for the first time in years, before she finally gets up and composes herself like the Master she is. She fetches a face shield too, before picking up Naminé’s plans. 

She says it’s beautiful, despite that it’s nowhere near finished. Her pointers are great, helpful for avoiding foreseeable issues, but the most fun part of letting her in this way is hearing her grin again and again. And even though he once churned with anxiousness at the thought, now he can’t wait to see it on her finger.

Facing fears is like jumping off a cliff. Sometimes, you’ll fall and get hurt, struggling before walking again. Sometimes, you’ll fly.

[multiplefandomfics]

Last Call

This is an RPF oneshot i wrote a while ago and i hope you’ll like it. i wrote it when my friend was down and needed some JDM in her life ;)

Jeff x Reader

Words: 1984

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, Panic attack, fangirl attack

Comic Con was always like a second home to you. You were there for the Photo ops and maybe some merchandise. And this year was special because you were gonna see your favorite actor in the world who you had been crushing on since forever. Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Yes the walking dead actor who played the biggest sociopath in history after Hannibal Lecter was who you were in love with more than anything.

That you were excited was the understatement of the year.

But of course you were also gonna see a few more actors from the walking dead and other shows. Three weeks before the con you received the photo ops schedule and you noticed that there were a few overlapping appointments that you were really worried about.

So when the day came you immediately rushed to the info point to get more input in what you were supposed to do. You couldn't divide yourself after all.

"So you have trouble with your schedule. That's not a problem. We have especially for those reasons put up some last call spots. We are gonna get Me. Morgan out for you at 5.30pm if that's okay with you? Than you will have to be at photo room C and you'll get your picture ASAP." The nice lady at the info booth helped you out. "Oh, thank you so much. I was really afraid that it wouldn't work out." You breathed out slowly.

"Not a problem dear. Have a nice stay." She smiled fondly and you turned to go.

The first part of the day was spent with photo ops with your favorite stars and shopping everything that you could get your hands on so you wouldn't panic too much when meeting the man of your dreams.

When the time rolled around you strolled over to the photo booth expecting to see a few others waiting for the last call photo but there was no one except a security guard. You thought for a moment that you were wrong here so you asked him if that was the right place and he proved you right. So you waited until someone told you to go in. Carefully you stepped inside the cubicle and there he stood in all his 6'1 glory and smiled directly at you. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you almost fainted. You put your bag to the side and walked forward. Just then you noticed how empty the room was. Only him, you and the photographer. When you stepped closer to him you were hesitantly trying to decide what to do or say but you couldn't get a word out.

"Hey so I heard you couldn't make it earlier? What's your name sweetheart?" He asked in that sexy rumbling voice of his.

"Y/N… It's Y/N. Oh God I'm so nervous." You stuttered out so he took you into the biggest bear hug you had ever had and it immediately calmed you down. Maybe it was his scent. Some musky cologne, coffee and cigarette smoke and it was intoxicating.

He pulled back a bit and looked you deep in the eye almost deep enough to make you feel dizzy. "You good, Y/N?" The way he said your name made your knees buckle. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the photographer getting nervous. You were sure he just wanted to take the damn picture and get home. "So ehm the picture." You suddenly said. "Of course, yeah, sure, the photo. You have a pose in mind?" He asked.

"Not really. Surprise me?" You started to get bolder because you somehow felt at ease in his presence. He just radiated pure calmness and happiness and it really relaxed you.

"Sure thing darlin." He grinned that mischievous grin and suddenly scooped you up in his arms and held you bridal style with another deep longing gaze into your eyes when the photographer took the picture. Then he put you back on your feet but when he let go of you you almost collapsed again on your wobbly knees so he caught you again. "Whoa easy there Y/N. You want some more pics? I got time." He suggested. "But I only had one ticket." You told him. "Ah, who cares about those." He shrugged his shoulders. No one was there to say anything against it so you went along with it.

The next pictures were even better than the first one he even kissed you on the cheek and grabbed your waist tightly. It was all so overwhelming.

When you had taken about 15 other pictures and you had them printed in your hands you just wanted to say goodbye and call your best friend to fangirl like crazy but he didn't just let you go, no, he pulled you in again and whispered in your ear "meet me tonight in my hotel room. 9pm Room 804. Please." He added carefully. You were perplexed at first but then registered what he had asked you to do. And hell who were you if you weren't gonna take that opportunity? You just nodded and left to run back to your own hotel room to clean up a bit and call your friend.

And that was exactly what you did. You took a shower and then sat down on your bed just in a towel and dialled her number. By the second ring she took the call. "Y/N finally! I waited for your call the whole afternoon. What happened? Tell me everything! How is he?" Yes she loved him too. "I'm good. Actually I'm better than good. I'm great! Hell, it was the best day I had in a long time!" Then you explained everything to her. How you had ended up with a last call in the arms of the man of your dreams. "Oh my goodness. He really took that many pictures with you?" She asked unbelievingly.

"Yes. And I sent them all to you. Have a look. But there is more. He invited me to his room tonight… I don't know what he wants but I showered and shaved just now." You hinted at her. "hell no you're making that up just now! That can't be!"

"I'm not lying. Look I'll send you pictures if I get the chance later okay?" You convinced her. "But now I have to get ready. Talk to you later."

"Alright have fun but be careful okay?" Of course she was still worrying about you in a time like this. "Sure. I'll be fine. Later! Love ya!" You said goodbye. "Later. Love ya too." And with those words she hung up.

You got up and took out a short dress that wasn't too fancy and more classy and did your hair and makeup lightly. You didn't wanna look like you were desperate to get some.

When it was 8.55 you took one last look into the mirror, grabbed your stuff including phone and room key card and headed to the elevator.

Arriving on the 8th floor your nerves were plaguing you again. You nervously bit your lower lip while standing in front of his suite door. Then you finally gathered all your courage and knocked. Not a second later the door swung open and revealed a half naked Jeff only with low hung sweatpants on and immediately you started to salivate. His toned chest and muscular arms were to die for.

"Hello sweetheart. Come on in." You hushed past him and again tried to calm your nerves.

"You want something to drink?" He offered.

"Yeah sure. Something strong please."

"Nervous, are we?" He snickered.

"Maybe. It's not happening to me everyday that a celebrity invites me to his room and I don't really know what to expect. So yes nervous fits good." You took a glass of bourbon from him and chugged it down in one gulp the liquid burned your throat and you winced.

"You can expect everything and nothing. What do you want? I won't go further than you will allow." He promised.

"Alright. Why don't we start with getting to know each other better?" You suggested.

"Good idea. Sit down and have another drink."

After a considerable amount of the Amber liquid you got more and more bold. There was a reason why they called it liquid courage after all. So at some point you just leaned in and kissed him slowly and meaningful.

"Just say stop if you want me to. Anytime." And then he started to kiss down your neck and cleavage sucking marks into the flesh. You moaned loudly at the feeling. It had been some time since you had last been touched by a man.

You grabbed for his broad shoulders just to hold onto something. He went lower and lower until he reached the hem of your dress and pushed it up around your middle and when he looked up at you in affirmation with those bedroom eyes you almost melted right then and there.

"May I?" He asked almost hesitant. But you weren't able to conduct words so you only nodded enthusiastically. And he went right down to work. First ripping your panties straight through and then he dove right in. And God did his tongue feel like heaven and his beard scratched your thighs deliciously. He pushed his tongue deep inside your tight channel and immediately found the right button to push. You arched your back and pushed your pussy closer to his mouth. Then he started to lick your clit and draw figure eights on it before suddenly thrusting two fingers into you. He curled them expertly and you groaned in excitement. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train and you moaned his name loudly. When he came up he had your spendings in his beard and smiled dopily. "Well that was fucking amazing." He mumbled.Still outta breath you exclaimed.

"Hell yes it was!"

"But let's get to the real deal now shall we?" You asked him playfully. His grin broadened even more and he got up to remove his pants while you got rid of your dress and bra too. When you had just thrown it across the room he suddenly scooped you up again and placed you gently on the bed. Then he crawled on top of you and stared deeply into your eyes like he had done before. "You sure you wanna do this?" He was so considerate of your comfort. "Yes. Damn it. Take me now!" You begged him and then he thrust deep inside you. "Shit. Jeff you're so big. Stretching me out so good!" You groaned. It was a painful pleasure and you lived every second of it. It was so much better than any fan fiction could have ever described it. He felt amazing. You could feel any twitch and vein of his cock pumping. He stayed still for a moment before your legs wrapped around his behind pulling him in closer and encouraging him to move and so he did. You threw your head back in ecstasy groaning loudly. He was hitting all the right spots. The grunting and groaning coming from him made it so much more erotic. "I'm so close." You suddenly exhaled. "Me too baby." He mumbled and sped up again. Only a few thrusts later you reached your end and screamed his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear and he spilled inside you a second after that.

Rolling off you he breathed out "wow that was…" "yeah I know…" you shot back in your afterglow.

You cuddled up to him and fell asleep against his chest not too long after.

Maybe the schedule problems really had been of use. Why did you worry to begin with again?

[jessahmewren]

“Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Summary: Tired of spending birthday’s alone, John posts an ad on Craigslist hoping to spice things up.  Set in the 2000′s.  

Rating E for Everyone be aware here be smut.  

Pairing: Poly

Word count: 7,556

Also on Ao3

-0-0-0-

John erased what he’d written for what seemed like the tenth time, squinting at the screen on his laptop. He cracked his knuckles, taking another sip of wine.  The bottle was more than half gone, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.  It was the weekend, and he was spending it, like every other weekend, alone in his flat browsing the internet.  

The wine settled in his bones, making him feel warm and heavy and a bit giddy.  He opened up the Word document where the Craigslist Personal’s ad he’d been fumbling over for the past half hour sat half written.

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat.  I have no other preferences other than that you be reasonably good looking and clean.  I will send a headshot and directions when you send one.”  

Wait.  The fuck?  That sounded really off and vain.  No way should he be writing this while drunk.  Or, he thought miserably, writing this period.  But anyway.  

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat. I am fit and disease free; please be the same.  Details to be follow.”  

Was that better, he wondered?  Worse?

“I’ve never done this before; I’m not weird or even kinky…just a normal guy wanting to have a good time for once on his birthday.”  

There, he thought. That sounded nice and normal, not scary like some of the other ads (seriously, the one asking for the fart buddy was a little out there…).  He copied the ad and, before he could chicken out, pasted it into the text box.  

He titled the ad “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” and hit submit before he could talk himself out of it.

John checked his Myspace briefly before closing the laptop.  His cat, Gwyneth, coiled around his legs.  He reached down to stroke her ginger fur.  “Again, lovely?  You’ve already had your dinner,” he cooed fondly.  He reached for a bit of chicken from the fridge, leftovers from his own meal. “Just a snack, now.”  The cat was an absolute unit, and he couldn’t afford her getting any fatter.  

He put the wine glass in the sink, nodding off slightly as the water ran.  Gwyneth waddled off to her cat bed, sniffing it delicately before she sank into the pillowy softness.  John smiled at her as he switched off the light and shuffled off to his bedroom.

As he lay down beneath the covers, he thought of his little Craigslist ad, and smiled.  

--

Freddie woke up early for once, silencing his alarm on his phone and stumbling to the teapot.  He put the kettle on and grabbed a lemon strudel before settling on the couch and opening his laptop.  

Craigslist was still open from the night before where he had entertained himself with reading the personal ads.  It was one of his favorite past times late at night…sitting with a bag of crisps with his legs crossed reading some of those wacky adds.  As his kettle hummed, he decided to scroll further down the page.

He landed on John’s ad, and something made him smile.  “I’m not weird or even kinky…” Freddie laughed at that.  Why yes you are darling, you’re asking for a foursome for your birthday!  Still, his smile never faltered.  He clicked on the user name and opened up his email program.

“Hi John, I’m Freddie.  I AM weird and VERY kinky, and would love to come to your birthday party ;). I have attached a headshot. Cheers.”

He hit send and closed the laptop. His kettle was boiling by now and he poured himself a cuppa. He thought about the email he’d just sent and sighed.  It wasn’t likely he was going to get a reply, and if he did, he was up for it. He hooked up regularly with no problems.  This time was likely to be any different.

--

Brian cursed to himself. He was late and the computer labs at the university were always nearly full around lunch.  He had a paper due in two hours.  Maybe he could swing it.  

He found one open kiosk in the corner and settled in front of it, plugging in his flashdrive.  After an hour of typing, Brian closed the document and submitted it to his professor.  One more paper, one more assignment closer to his PhD.  He took a moment to relax and opened up his Hotmail.

After a few moments of aimless clicking and deleting, he opened one of his Craigslist notifications. Unfortunately, the amp he had wanted for his guitar was already sold.  He clicked the link anyway, the website opening in a new window.  He browsed the website a bit, eventually landing on the Personals section.  

He entertained himself for a while, admittedly enjoying the sexier ads.  And then he read John’s.  

Something about it struck him as honest, and Brian could respect that.  Brian considered the prospect of fucking three other guys, a little thrill running through him.  What would that even be like?  

He decided, like a good doctoral researcher, that he needed more information.  He emailed John.  

--

Roger was drunk (and maybe something else).  His limbs were loose, and he couldn’t feel his lips.  An easy euphoria fell over him, throbbing in his skull in time with the pulsing music and the girl riding his lap.  The friends he’d come over with were somewhere else, but there were others here.  So many people just walking around him as this girl fucked him right here on the sofa.

“Lay back baby,” She said as she rode him, steadily lifting herself off of him, the wet squelch of her tight heat lost to the music and the chaos of the open room. She was pretty in an odd way, Roger thought.  His body felt like it was on fire, and he felt the involuntary response of his orgasm winding its way to completion.  

He gasped, coming inside the condom as she giggled and contracted around him.  He was panting hard, his heart racing.  Whatever he had taken was too much, he thought, too much this time.  He felt sick. He pawed at the girl as she chased her own climax, pushing her off just as she came, nibbling at his sweat-slick skin.

“Thanks for the fuck,” she said as she slid off him.  She pulled up her panties under her skirt and wobbled away.  

He sagged back against the couch where no one seemed to pay attention to him, feeling used.  Tears stung his eyes, and then someone called his name.  

“Hey Roger, you done fucking around?  Come play this game with us.”

He raised his head, the whole room swimming.  Gingerly, he made his way over to the small gathering.  There were shots set up in front of a laptop.  Greg, the leader of the group, pushed Roger down in a chair.

“It’s youngest against oldest, and Rog, you’re the youngest.  Whoever does the least amount of shots has to answer one of these Craigslist Personals ads.  I’ve put them all in a random name generator so it’s totally fair.”

Roger felt sick.  He knew he’d had too much to drink already, and there was no way he would win.  He stared the other man down anyway.  

Greg counted them out. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Roger started downing shots until he declared he’d had enough.  He was nearly blackout drunk when they pulled the virtual lever on the random name generator.  The ad title that came up was “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests.”

Roger was passed out on the couch when Greg sent the email to John along with a fetching photo of Roger smiling with friends while wearing his favorite sunglasses.  Greg was sure to add, “you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

--

John forgot about his little ad until the following evening, when he was coming home from the repair shop and remembered that he should probably check his email.  He picked up dinner, fed Gwyneth and did just that, deleting the spam and adverts and noticing, to his surprise, several emails from Craigslist users.  

He omitted some right away…not on a superficial bases, but just based on how they sounded.  Bossy, arrogant, or their emails gave out a creepy vibe.  The next one he clicked on was a bloke named Freddie.  

“I AM weird AND kinky…”  John laughed at that.  That was mild compared to some of the other things he’d been told.  It was rather endearing, actually.  As the pic took forever to load, he thought Freddie might be interesting to get to know.  

Then the pic finally opened and John’s mouth flew open.

Black, lustrous, shoulder-length hair framing the most stunning face…tan skin stretched over sharp cheekbones and jawline and those piercing brown kohl-lined eyes.  He was easily the most exotic person John had ever laid eyes on.  He was immediately attracted to him.  

John hit reply and began typing.  “I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward, but would you like to come celebrate my birthday with me?  You would be my first guest :).”  

He gave him the time and place, included a headshot, and hit send, hoping for the best.  

The next email was a bit longer and more thoughtful but just as intriguing.  

“Hi there.  My name is Brian.  I am a college student getting my PhD.  I saw your ad on Craigslist and I must say I am intrigued.  I have never done anything like this, either.  I would be interested in helping you celebrate your birthday if you provide a safe, clean environment in which to do so.  Please provide photos of your flat.”  Thanks –Bri”

John smiled.  How considerate to think of a safe environment. Bri was definitely getting an email. He replied to Brian and included photos of his living room, kitchen, and bedroom (he left the bathroom out for reasons). Thankfully he had just tidied up. He also included a headshot.  

The next email that caught his eye was from Roger.  When the pic loaded, he was stunned to find a beautiful blond man with a winning smile standing in a group of friends.  

“Hi! My name is Roger.  I saw your ad on Craigslist.  You can count me in!  Just send me the time and place.  Also, you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

John smiled at his enthusiasm.  He attached a headshot, gave him the details and hoped he would hear a little more from him.

John switched over to his Myspace and made a post for the first time in a long time.  “Happy for new adventures,” it said with a sticker. And for the first time in a long time, he was.

--

Freddie was late, and he had just enough time for tea and maybe to check his email before he was needed at Splash, the high-end fashion boutique where he worked.  He scrolled through his messages on his phone, reading a few replies, when one from Craigslist user John caught his eye.    

“I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward…”  

Freddie smiled at that.

The pic finally loaded, and Freddie’s mouth watered at the sweet sight.  A young man, early twenties, long brown hair, lovely green eyes, and the sweetest smile stared back at him.  There were secrets in that smile, he thought, and Freddie wanted to find them out.  

So Freddie had a date with not one but three other gents.  He better get to work so he could find himself something new to wear.  

--

“I want a double mocha latte, no whip, no drizzle, but soy sub on the milk,” the customer spouted off dryly, and Brian just nodded.  He’d been working as a barista at Starbucks to help pay his way through college, and while things could get a little crazy, he mostly liked it.  “No problem,” he said as he tried to smile.  “Name please?”  

The teenage girl grinned. “Princess of the Universe.” Brian’s face fell.  “Alright miss I’ll try to fit that on the cup,” he muttered as he turned to make her coffee.  

At his next break, he sat in the back and played Angry Birds on his phone until his email notifications pinged.  John from Craigslist had written him back.  

“Hi Bri! This is John. I really enjoyed your email and appreciate you thinking to ask about a safe environment.  That is really important and is honestly something I would do. I have included the requested pictures of my flat.  Thankfully I had just tidied up (haha).

The flat was neat and clean. Very homey.  There was a fat orange cat nestled on the couch in one of the pics, and it made Brian smile.  The headshot John had sent was of John in profile, looking out a window. His green eyes were luminous in the sunlight, and his long brown hair was pulled back over his shoulder.  There was a slight smile on his face.  

Brian hummed as he looked at it, eyes going over the smooth skin of the young man’s neck and where that skin stretched over the juncture of his jaw and cheek.  He was lovely.  

“Brian!  You’ve got customers!”  

Brian muttered a curse to himself.  

“I’d very much like to attend,” Brian found himself typing. “Send me the details.”

--

His head was pounding, and the afternoon light of his bedroom hurt his eyes.  Those were Roger’s first cognizant thoughts as he gradually returned to wakefulness after coming home last night and passing out on top of his sheets.  

He doesn’t remember coming home, really, or how he got home.  But he assumed Greg and his friends dumped him off here after he woke up on their couch.  

It didn’t matter, not really.  He stumbled home like this a few times a week and he invariably always recovered.  

Roger peeled himself off the mattress, dragging himself into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He endured the light so he wouldn’t miss the toilet, and when he passed the mirror, he paused.  

There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.  His face was puffy, his hair in disarray.  He looked older somehow, and he swore under his breath.  Shit had to get better than this.  

He peeled off last night’s clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray wash off the filth and sketchy memories.  Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and put on a pair of sweats.  He had a few hours before he had to be at his bartending job at a local nightclub, so he decided to forego the tea and head straight for the coffee.  

He settled into the couch, letting the weariness leech from his boned into the cushions.  Sipping his coffee, he checked his email, frowning when he got a notification from Craigslist.  

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself, opening the email to find the top half of a picture loading.

It was a young man with soft green eyes crinkled at the edges, a wide smile and long brown hair. Something caught in his chest, something warm and fluttery, as he looked at it.  

The email was underneath.

“Hello Roger!  I’m John. I’m excited that you want to attend my birthday party.  You’re my third guest, so that makes four of us, lol ;).  I’m sending you the date and time below along with directions to my flat. I can’t wait to meet you in person. :).”

What the actual FUCK.

And suddenly it all came flooding back.  The shot game, the lost bet.  Roger’s heart sped up.  Was he going to a foursome?  Were they all dudes?  His mouth went dry.  While Roger had always been attracted to men, he had never actually slept with one.  He swallowed.  Could he actually do this?  

FUCK.  

--

There was no Emily Post etiquette guide for hosting a foursome, so John decided to wing it.

As he stared down into the homemade pasta sauce, he reasoned that food was a good move.  Food brought people together, and togetherness brought sex. John smiled, satisfied with his ingenious if rather simplistic reasoning.  He stirred the sauce, pausing before adding the browned ground beef. What were the odds that one of them was a vegetarian?  He shrugged and dumped it in.  Not too high.

The doorbell rang and John nearly jumped out of his skin.  It was 6:05, and his guests weren’t due until 6:30.  He frowned, turning the burner on low and moving to the peephole.  

There, on the other side, was the same face he’d viewed in the email, only in living color.  The sharp cheek bones, the elegant nose, the kohl lined eyes.  John couldn’t get the door open fast enough.  

“Freddie,” he almost breathed.  His heart was beating fast and he self-consciously smoothed the hair around his face.  

Freddie’s eyes flicked down to his chest, then back up to his face before he smiled, stepped into his space and smoothly kissed him, steadying his chin with the tips of his fingers.  

John returned the kiss before breaking away, sputtering a little before getting his bearings.  “Do you…do you always greet strangers like that?”

Freddie laughed smoothly. “No, silly.”  He looked down, then back up at him, one neatly trimmed eyebrow cocked slightly.  “But I’m excellent at following instructions.”

John flushed, remembering his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, and ushered him inside.  “Um, can I get you something to drink?”  

“I dunno, can you?” Freddie said smoothly as he walked through the living room of John’s flat, taking in every detail.  He was impeccably dressed, John thought as he tracked him through the space.  He stirred the sauce, leaving it to simmer and reached for a bottle of red wine, pouring Freddie a glass.

He handed it to the man who took it gratefully.  “Something smells yummy.  You didn’t have to cook, darling.”  

John smiled, flushing at the epithet.  “It’s just pasta.  It’s nothing.”

Freddie settled on the couch, balancing the wine glass on his knee.  “I hope you don’t mind that I arrived a little early.  I always arrive early to these sorts of things.  It keeps me safe.”  

John nodded.  “That’s smart actually.  I don’t mind at all.  I’m just glad you came.”  

Freddie waggled his eyebrows over his wine glass.  “I always come.”  

John’s blush deepened, and Freddie laughed.  

“I can’t help myself, darling, you’re just so damn cute when you do that.”

John lowered his glass. “Do what?”

“Blush like that. It’s precious.”  

The two of them sat there for a few moments when Gwyneth took that opportunity to rub against Freddie’s leg.  

“What a baby!”  

John laughed as Gwyneth stretched and meowed, looking up at Freddie with affection.  “I think she likes you.”  

Freddie cooed and scratched her head.  “I think I’m in love.”  

--

When Brian arrived, John was busy straining the pasta, so Freddie got the door.  

“Hello, darling,” he said brightly.

Brian looked at Freddie blankly.  “You’re not John.”  

“Come on in!” John called from the kitchen, and Brian side-stepped the man at the door a little nervously to meet the man in the kitchen.  

“Um, sorry darling, but as I was about to say, “I’m Freddie.”  

Brian looked down at the enigmatic man who had a delicate hand stuck out for him to shake.  He took it.  

Brian pressed his lips together.  “Sorry about that earlier.  I uh…I was just expecting John.”  

Freddie patted his arm. “It’s alright love.  We’re all a little jumpy.  Just meeting and all that.  But John is lovely. He even cooked.”  

John appeared behind Brian, a dish towel over his shoulder.  “Hello,” he said.  “I’m John.”

Brian shook his hand, noticing the calloused fingers.  The young man was trim in figure-hugging jeans and a crisp blue shirt that brought out the green in his eyes.  Brian swallowed hard.  

“Brian,” he said a little thinly.  

John smiled, and it went straight to his gut.  “I hope you like pasta Brian.”  He walked to the counter and poured him a glass of wine.

Brian took it from him. “I do actually.  Just no meat sauce.  I’m a vegetarian.”

John looked horrified. “Fuckity fuck,” John he said allowed. “How about a salad?”  

Freddie howled with laughter, the outburst so loud it scared Gwyneth under the couch.  Brian just smiled softly, laying a hand on John’s shoulder.  “That actually sounds lovely John.”

Brian made his way to the couch, followed closely by Freddie.  The other man was observing him very keenly, taking in the softly curling hair and the sharp nose framing the delicate face.  Brian was dressed very casually compared to Freddie, but he was no slouch.  His neat jeans and tan blazer suited his slim physique very well.  

John stared at the clock. It was crowding seven now, and Roger was nowhere to be found.  A little pang of worry stabbed at his heart.  It was possible that he might not show, and that was fine, but he was certainly looking forward to meeting him.  He thought of the blue eyes the photo had hidden that he would never get to see.  

Instead of worrying, he busied himself with plating the pasta and salads.  Brian met him in the kitchen, setting his wine glass down. “Let me give you a hand, John.” His smile was genuine and warm, and John found that he liked it very much.  

With two working it took half the time, and everyone had their food.  Freddie looked around at the empty place setting and frowned. “Where’s number four?”  

John worried his lip. “I don’t really know,” he said honestly. “I’m sure he’ll make it.”  

Freddie smiled sympathetically.  “Sometimes they don’t love.  Nerves and all.”  

Almost on cue, there came a tentative knock at the door.  John stood a little too fast before settling himself down enough to answer it.  He knew before looking through the peephole who it was.  

Roger was dressed in a fashionable leather jacket and matching pants that hugged his figure. His trademark sunglasses were in the collar of his frayed t-shirt, no doubt purchased that way.  His hair was messy-chic.  John couldn’t stop staring at him until those blue eyes popped up to meet his.  “You’re John?”  

“Y-yeah,” he stammered out. “Nice to meet you Roger.”  Roger shook it rather limply as he breezed into the living room, not giving John more than a glance.  He stiffened when he heard voices from the kitchen.  

“There you are!” Freddie called out to him.  “Thought this was going to be a threesome.  And while that’s still lovely, I do hate it when plans change,” he pouted.

Roger turned rather haltingly to face the other two men who had been eating and chatting, getting to know one another.  Brian pointed to the open seat at the table, and Roger took it.  

“Mind if I smoke John?”

John liked his voice…soft but still masculine.  It made his stomach flutter.  And while he smoked, he usually didn’t smoke inside because of Gwyneth. But he supposed—

“That’s fine,” John finally said.  He watched as the fire from the lighter illuminated his fine features; he was certainly very beautiful, this Roger.  

“I made dinner,” John offered, hoping to start a conversation with the man who had said very little since he arrived.  

“Not hungry mate. Thanks though.”  

John frowned a little, and Freddie cleared his throat.  

“Well I’m Freddie, and this is Brian,” the ever talkative Freddie began with the introductions.

“Roger,” the newcomer mumbled around his cigarette.

They resumed eating and things grew quiet and bit awkward as Roger sat there smoking while everyone ate. He was very closed off, like he didn’t want to be there.  John would need to get to the bottom of it if things progressed.  

“Now that we’re all here, I’m a true bottom,” Freddie said matter-of-factly, “so I hope there are some tops among us.”  

John nearly choked on his penne, and Brian had to pat him on the back, a fond smile on his face.  “It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Brian said, his face growing hot.  

“Me neither,” John said quietly.

Roger took a bored drag on his cigarette.  “Top,” he muttered.  

Freddie’s eyes grew wide. “Really…”

Roger snapped his gaze Freddie’s way.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Is that so hard to believe, you wanker?”

Freddie put his hands up in defense.  “No reason to be nasty, love.  Just took me by surprise is all.  You just give off…bottomy vibes.”

Roger stubbed out his cigarette in his empty plate.  “What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?”  

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Nothing darling.  Forget it.”  

Roger had stood, fists balled at his hips, and he was gyrating with anger.  John and Brian were looking on, wide-eyed, wondering where all of this would go.  

Until Freddie stood and hugged the man.  

Roger relaxed into his grip, his head dropping to his shoulder.  He sighed, arms relaxing at his sides.  

“Darling, it’s alright,” Freddie soothed against him.  “It’s all alright now.”  

And when Freddie pulled away, he kissed him softly on the lips.  

Roger hummed in surprise before relenting into the kiss, letting his mouth go pliant against the other man’s and enjoying the faint hint of tomato sauce and chapstick on his tongue. When Freddie released him, he sighed.

“Why—why did you do that?”

Freddie reached up to thumb at his chin.  “Darling, you looked like you needed it.  When’s the last time someone hugged you?”

Roger’s eyes stung with oncoming tears, but he willed them back down.  His lack of an answer was enough for Freddie.  

“Let us take care of you tonight,” he said sweetly.  “Show you true affection.  Make you feel good.”  

“Yeah,” Roger found himself saying.  It sounded so nice, after all, to be truly wanted and cared for, if only for the night.

Brian and John were beside them now, and John leaned in and lay a hand on Roger’s arm.  “Are we ok?”  

Roger nodded, feeling much more at ease.  “Yeah, everything is fine.”  

John smiled.  “Let’s clean up, yeah?  Then maybe we can move this into the bedroom.”  

--

“You uh…You mind if I just watch for a while?”

Roger had gotten his shirt off, and then nerves had taken over.  Freddie was on all fours, moaning into John’s talented fingers as he opened him up, his heavy cock straining with need.  

John shot him a smile. “Sure love.  Do what you’re comfortable with,” he said as he punched another moan out of Freddie, twisting those fingers inside of his tight walls.

Roger eased off the bed before a hand grabbed him.  “Hey,” Brian said, hazel eyes soft with lust.  

Roger swallowed, the tall man’s kind smile making him feel instantly at ease.  

He smiled, his heartrate going down a bit.

“Where are you off to?” Brian answered innocently. He was crowding his space, the bare skin of his chest now flush with his as he bent his head to nose at his hair.  

“That chair in the corner,” Roger said softly.  “I was gonna watch.”

Brian placed a little kiss to his hair.  “Not gonna play?”

Roger’s throat was dry, and he was straining in his trousers.  “Not right now,” he trailed off.

Brian kissed further down the side of his face.  “Pity,” he said as his hands traveled over Rogers bum.

“You ever had a really good blowjob, Roger?  One that makes you feel like you’re exploding into a billion stars?”  Brian finally reached his mouth and locked lips with him, his tongue curling around his, kissing him so deeply it stole Roger’s breath.

Roger moaned in spite of himself, leaning into Brian’s touch.  Brian released him, never breaking eye-contact.  “Well, have you?”  

He answered him truthfully. “I guess not,” he said a little breathlessly.  

Brian smiled.  “That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

“Can you take a fourth finger baby?”  Freddie just moaned, gripping the sheets as he tossed his head back.  John slid it in, delighting in the way Freddie just fluttered around him, drawing him in like he was born to take it.  He worked his fingers in and out of him, hitting his prostate to make him moan.  The sound of Brian going down on Roger was in his ears and it home to John that this foursome dream of his was really happening, this little birthday fantasy of his was real.  

John pressed kisses into Freddie’s neck, making sure his fingers kept up a steady pressure. Freddie just moaned—he was so vocal—and thrust his hips up to meet his fingers.  

“Need your cock,” he finally breathed.  “Give it to me John.”  

Roger shivered as Brian circled the head of his cock with his tongue, licking the slit before descending on him again.  Brian took him all the way to the base, his nose buried in the dark blond hair there, Roger’s hot length stretching his throat with every bob of his head.  

Above him, Roger was coming undone.  He was making little keening sounds as Brian played with his balls while sucking him off, moaning and sputtering that he wouldn’t last long.  It didn’t matter to Brian.  He loved this.  

The man grabbed a handful of his hair just before coming hot and full down his throat, his back arching prettily.  Brian swallowed him down, finally pulling off him when he was sure he was finished.  

Brian dabbed at his mouth as Roger looked at him with a little bit of awe.  

“You good?” he asked Roger as he sat back on his knees, smiling up at him.  

“Incredible,” Roger sighed. “That was better than X.”  

Brian frowned.  “X?”

“Ecstasy? The party drug?” Roger looked perplexed that the man had never heard of it.  

He dug in his pocket and produced a little baggie and handed it to Brian, who pushed it away.  

“Sorry mate, but I’m not down for that.  Brian looked nervously over his shoulder.  John doesn’t look the type either, so I’d put that away if I were you.”

Roger stuffed the baggie of pills back into his pocket.  “Do I look like the type?” he said as he zipped up his fly.  

Brian just sat there, thinking.

Freddie had one hand on his leaking cock, stroking it in rhythm to John’s thrusts.  His head was pressed into the mattress, and he was having the time of his life.  

“Harder John.  Fuck me harder babe.  Like you mean it!”

John loved how vocal Freddie had been to begin with, but now he was being outright bratty.  John hitched Freddie’s hips higher, angling them so he could aim directly at his prostate.  Freddie’s body was slicked with sweat as was his own, so maneuvering them was no easy feat.  He pulled out of Freddie and then slammed back down again.  

“God yes that’s it lover,” Freddie mumbled into the sheets as he set up a blistering pace, wet flesh slapping against each other as he John chased his release.  Freddie was furiously stroking himself, so it wouldn’t be long for him.  Through Freddie’s plaintive, sharp moans, he could feel the crest of his orgasm stop right at the edge.  He tightened his grip on Freddie, emptying into the condom as wave after wave of pleasure gripped him.  Somewhere through the fog he heard Freddie come right after.  

Brian followed Roger into living room, where he was trying to collect his things.  “You’re leaving?”

Roger turned on Brian, his hands on his hips.  “I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

Brian shrugged.  “You always have a choice.”

“I don’t belong here,” Roger said, shaking his head.  “I’m not even gay.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Are you sure about that?”

Roger shook his head, withdrawing the little baggie of pills.  “Ah fuck it,” he said as he poured a few in his hand.  

Brian approached him slowly. “I can’t let you do that, Roger. Take those pills.  Not on my watch.”

Roger clutched the pills in his hand tightly to his chest.  “What the fuck do you care, Brian?   You’re just some guy who blew me off.  You don’t know me?”  He was vibrating with rage, his eyes wide.  “You don’t own me!”

Brian shook his head. “Listen to yourself.  You sound like a child.  We’re talking about drugs, here, Roger.  You could seriously hurt yourself.”  

“Yeah well, I hope I do,” He spat.  

Brian had no choice. “John!  Freddie!  I need you in here!”

The two of them came rushing in, John in a robe and Freddie struggling into pants.  “Brian, what’s wrong?”  

“Roger has drugs,” Brian got out quickly.  “Ecstasy. He’s about to take some.”  

Freddie stepped forward between them.  “Oh darling that shit is hell on you.  You don’t want to do that.  Tell me what’s up.”  

Roger relaxed a little. “Nothing,” he whispered. The pills were sweating and melting in his hand.  “I just needed to get out of my head for a little while.”

John was watching the proceedings, trying not to panic.  No way did he want drugs in his house, but he also didn’t want to see Roger hurt.  

Freddie nodded.  “I so understand that love.  That’s why I hook up a lot.  Sex helps me forget some nasty things in my past and some things that are going on in my daily you know?  It’s a nice escape.  Plus it’s legal and it doesn’t hurt me as long as I’m safe.”  

Roger’s hand relaxed a little on the pills.  “Yeah that makes sense,” he conceded.  “I’m glad you have that.”  

Freddie nodded again, getting close enough to Roger to smooth some of the hair that hung around his face behind his ear.  Roger seemed to lean into his touch.  “Did you enjoy your time with Brian, him?  Freddie couldn’t keep the wicked smile from his face.  “Sure sounded liked you did.”  

Roger smiled then. “Yeah it was really nice.”

“I bet.  Might have to see how nice it is, huh Brian?” Freddie said as he threw a wink over his shoulder at Brian who just laughed at him, shaking his head.  

Freddie grabbed Roger’s hand.  “Give me these darling…they’re all melted now, anyway.  Come have some fun with us instead.”  

Roger’s lips were dry as Freddie pried the pills from his grip.  “I’ve never…I’ve never been with a man,” he admitted.  

“A virgin?!” Freddie gasped, “Oh our boy’s a virgin…we’ll have to take extra special care of him won’t we boys?”  

Freddie discreetly handed off the baggie of pills and the few tablets to John who promptly went into the bathroom to flush them.  

“Yes,” he said as he stroked his face.  “We’ll take extra good care of you love.  You won’t have to worry about a thing.”  

--

Brian stroked the young man’s face as John worked on the fly of his dark jeans, easing them down his hips. His cock sprung free…no pants underneath, and John smiled, stroking him lightly.  Freddie hummed, squeezing Brian’s buttocks as he wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re ok with this Roger?”  John’s voice was husky with want, his eyes flicking up briefly from the young man’s cock to his blue eyes where they looked down at him expectantly.  

“Yes,” Roger said, leaning into Brian’s hand on his face, his eyes fluttering closed.  “I want this.”

Freddie smiled, tightening his arms around Brian.  They walked Roger back until his legs touched the bed.  He sat down, easing onto the soft comforter while they helped him scoot back.  Brian was between his legs in an instant, easing between his thighs to skate his hands along his chest and arms while Freddie cradled his head in his lap.  Roger’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted in a pretty bow, and John bent to kiss them, unable to help himself.  

Roger sighed, giving himself over to the kiss, letting his tongue dart out to meet John’s as his arms strained against Freddie hands.  At some point, the dark-haired man had pressed his arms down into the mattress.

Roger panicked for a split second, then the thrill of the restraint sank into his bones, and he truly felt free.  

“That’s it baby,” Freddie soothed, “Just let go and let us take over.”  Roger stared up into the man’s soft brown eyes, feeling a strange sense of peace.

Brian was making slow circles on his hip, thumbing the sensitive skin there.  “Roger,” he said softly.  “Do you want to top?”  His hazel eyes bore into his.  “It’s your first time.  It’s easier that way.”

Roger worried his lip. “No,” he said firmly.  “I want to do it like Freddie did.”  

Freddie smirked a little, still stroking his hair.  “I knew it. He’s a natural bottom.”  

John giggled a little, tossing Brian the lube.  “Open him up nice and slow Brian.  Your fingers are slender.”  

John crawled over to Freddie, pulling his head up and kissing him firmly.  Freddie groaned into John’s mouth, letting his hand slide up his chest.  “Up for round two love?”  

John just hummed.  “Maybe.  Maybe not. On your knees, True Bottom.”  John pushed Freddie down on his knees, smacking his bum on the way down.  Freddie fell forward, grunting as he hit the mattress, landing on all fours.  

He shivered as John climbed up behind him. He could feel his warm breath on the back of his thigh, whispering over his bum as John’s hands settled there.  He parted his cheeks, and Freddie hardly had time to catch his breath before John had licked a hot strip up the cleft of his buttocks.  

“Fuck!” Freddie cried out, his whole body jerking under John’s mouth.  John smiled against him, and Freddie felt the wry grin against his skin.

Brian eased a pillow beneath Roger’s hips, watching Roger for any sign of discomfort.  He betrayed none; he seemed as relaxed as he did when Freddie was cradling his head.  Indeed, Freddie had now clasped the blond’s hand while being eaten out, a look of sheet bliss on his face, and Roger gripped it tightly.

“We’re going to do this very slowly, Roger.  It will feel different at first, but then it will feel good, ok?”  

Roger nodded his head, taking in a breath.  

Brian tutted.  “Don’t hold your breath love.  Blow it out for me.  Just try to relax, ok?  I’m not going to hurt you.”  

Brian smiled at him, and Roger returned it.  Brian had the sweetest, most genuine smile, and while he didn’t really know the man, he knew instinctively that he could trust him.  

He warmed the lube in is fingers before circling Roger’s entrance with smooth, calculated movements, relaxing the tight muscle.  He pushed one in, and Roger jumped a little.  

“How does that feel Roger? Talk to me.”  

“Different,” he breathed. “Not bad.”  

Brian smiled.  He began working the finger in and out of Roger rhythmically until he felt Roger relax around him, then he added a second.

Roger jerked, a little half-moan escaping his lips.  Brian cocked an eyebrow.  “Is that better?”  

“Y-yeah,” Roger stammered. “It’s ok.”  

Brian aimed for his prostate, finding the little bundle of nerves in moments, and Roger nearly folded in half.  “Just ok?”

Roger was panting, a fine sweat on his brow, and he unconsciously thrust onto Brian’s fingers. “So good,” he said, his grip on Freddie’s hand tightening.  

Freddie preened.  “Look at you baby boy—ahh—taking those fingers so well.  I knew you could do it.”

Freddie looked ruined, very near coming, and the sounds coming from John were bordering on obscene. Roger couldn’t see him, but whatever he was doing to Freddie it sounded like he was enjoying it.

Brian twisted the fingers against him, making him writhe and squirm, until he added a third.  

Roger winced at the sting, the stretch of a third finger, but Brian was gentle in coaxing him open. He was leaned over him, planting little kisses on his collarbone, his throat, and finally smothering his moans with his own mouth.  It all felt so intimate, not at all like his drug-fueled shags.  Tears began to spring in his eyes.  

Brian noticed immediately. “Roger, am I hurting you?  He lost the fingers immediately.  “Talk to me, Roger.”  

“No,” Roger choked out. “Give me more please.”  

John laughed as he was helping Freddie clean up.  “You’ve got him begging Brian.   So beautiful for us.”  

The fingers returned, a little rougher this time, a little more insistent.  Roger’s legs were open wide and he was almost swallowing Brian’s hand.

“You’re ready, gorgeous. I think my work here is done.” Brian withdrew his hand, wiping it on his thigh, and met John in the middle of the bed.  He kissed him deeply.  “You have him nice and open for me?” Brian murmured softly.

John nodded.  “He’s all yours.  I bet you can get him to come again.”  

Brian squeezed John’s arm, locking eyes with him.  “Be gentle with Roger.”

John blinked up at him. “Of course Bri,” he said, using his sign off from his email.  “I wouldn’t dream of hurting him.”  

Brian smiled.  “I know.”

John crawled over to Roger, who was still red-faced, his chest heaving.  He leaned over him, giving him a tender kiss.  “Hello love.  Don’t you look ravishing like this?”

John cradled his face in his hand, then trailed it down his chest to tease at a nipple.  “I’m going to take good care of you, yeah?”

Roger only nodded, his eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen and irresistible.  

John slid on a condom, coating it with lube.  He pressed against Roger’s open entrance, letting his cockhead push at the rim.  He looked up at Roger.  “We don’t have to do this.  It’s up to you.”  

Roger shook his head. “I want it,” he said throwing his back into the pillow.  “Give it to me.”  

John pushed gently inside, watching Roger’s intake of breath, is fluttering eyelids at the sudden onslaught of being filled.  He gave him a moment to adjust, the vice-like grip of him around him, hot and incredibly tight driving him mad with the need to move.  

“I’m ok,” Roger said finally.  “Go ahead.”

He had one arm over his face and his lip between his teeth, but for his first time he was taking cock so well.  John basically made love to him…slow, measured strokes, his face buried in his shoulder and his hips undulating over his.  He had one hand on Roger’s cock, slowly stroking it in time with his thrusts.  

Then Roger started kissing him…hungry, desperate kisses that made the fire rise in his blood.  That, coupled with the feeling of how bloody close they were, their bodies nearly fused together, made John want to give it to him just a little harder.  

“Hitch your legs around me baby.  Come on, that’s it.”  John increased his pace, and little whines started coming from the back of Roger’s throat.

“You doing ok?”  

Roger nodded furiously. “Gonna come,” he managed.  

Freddie and Brian rolled over close to the couple, Freddie taking over for John by working Roger’s cock, and Brian sweeping the hair back from John’s neck and placing an encouraging kiss there.  

John could feel his own orgasm building, a tightly packed explosion of euphoria ready to burst at any moment. It was finally punched out of him when Roger looked up at him with those blue eyes and said “Just let go…” He had been the one who had been so careful with him, but it finally took permission from Roger for him to get release.  

With Freddie’s help, Roger came right after.  

The four of them lay beautifully spent, bodies sweating and coming down from their highs.  Roger lit a cigarette and shared it with Freddie.  

“We never cut the birthday cake,” John mused.  

Brian laughed.  “What time is it?”  

Someone looked at their phone.  ��10:20.”

Roger smiled.  “Well, it’s still your birthday.”  

John laughed.  “Indeed it is.  Who’s up for some post-coital cake?”

Freddie grimaced.  “That does not sound right.”

They all tumbled out of bed toward the kitchen where John dished up the plates and began serving cake.

John flushed.  “Um, before you go, you’re free to use the shower. Freshen up a bit if you like.  Or, you could stay over…”  

Something flashed in their eyes, and they all shared a look.  

“I’m actually off tomorrow,” Freddie said.

“I don’t work until nighttime,” Roger added.

“My shift at the coffee shop doesn’t start until ten,” Brian replied.

John brightened.  “Well, that’s great!  I mean, I wouldn’t want you traveling so late and all.  Let’s take our cake back to bed, shall we?”  

John gathered up the plates and began to traipse back to the bedroom, but as soon as he got out of sight, Freddie grabbed a piece of paper and put his phone number on it, then gave it to Brian and then Roger and let them do the same.  At the bottom, he wrote “Happy Birthday” with a heart and stuck it on the fridge for John to find later.  Then, all three of them followed John back into the bedroom to finish their cake.

-0-0-0-

[gold-from-straw]

Crush

This is a fic I wrote after I accidentally flirted with @unticka by telling her I had a crush on the person in her profile pic.

And then found out it was her ACTUAL FACE and had to go and crawl into a hole. Luckily she agreed it should be a Cherik fic so here we go lol!

Read this utterly silly fluffy thing on AO3 if you prefer ^_^ Warnings for some allusion to past drug addiction and lots of Erik being a socially anxious bean.

Erik’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, smirking at the comment Charles had added to their chat.

CX: I swear on all that’s holy if one of you brings Jaegermeister to my party this year I will scream

CX: I found the last bottle in the back of my cupboard. I can smell it through the glass I am not even joking

Erik pushed himself forwards and quickly typed brb, just going to the liquor store, grinning as it appeared on the screen.

Raven cleared her throat, and Erik looked up. “Are you quite finished?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the group chat I invited you to join, but I am now sitting in front of you. In the flesh. Buying you coffee.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly and put his phone away.

“It’s fine,” she smirked. “You and Charles are getting along well, I see.”

“He’s an idealistic idiot,” said Erik immediately.

She nodded and sipped her latte. “And he makes you laugh. Honestly, you two need to just start messaging each other directly, let the rest of us get a look in on the group chat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his face dropping. “I never meant to irritate anyone.”

She shook her head. “You’re not, really, I’m only teasing. Don’t take me seriously, Erik, you know I’m full of shit.”

He twisted his lips and nodded, but he didn’t believe her. There was no smoke without fire, after all, and she had been kind enough to introduce him to all of her friends when he moved to New York. He didn’t know what he’d have done without those contacts. The only reason he hadn’t spent his entire first month in his apartment alone was because of Raven and her friends.

She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Erik, I really was only joking.”

“Are you sure I’m not imposing on the group?”

“Absolutely. Look, you’ll see on Friday when we all get together for Charles’ birthday up in Westchester. I know you’ve met Sean and Emma already, the others are looking forward to getting to know you in person too. And if you and Charles start debating politics again there are plenty of empty rooms we can lock you in together until you sort your shit out. We’ll just eat the pizza and watch the movie.”

“Without the birthday boy?” Erik laughed.

“Oh, a good argument will be Charles’ favourite birthday gift of the day, trust me,” Raven said, flicking her red hair back.

Erik tucked his phone into his bag and focused completely on Raven for the next couple of hours, discussing the latest gossip, the assignment Raven had to do on her poetry module and whether Erik had found an actual bed, yet, or if he was still sleeping on the futon they’d found on Craigslist when he first arrived in New York.

Erik was proud of himself for not having glanced at his phone until he was walking the last stretch between the subway and his apartment. A new message showed up on his phone, and Erik would have denied to his dying day that he got a little jolt under his sternum when he saw the name come up - Charles Xavier. He clicked on the notification.

CX: My friends tell me I need to talk to you directly rather than through the group chat. Apparently we’re clogging up the airwaves.

Erik’s smile pulled at his cheeks and he tugged his bag higher on his shoulder, freeing up both hands to type.

EL: Raven told me the same thing

CX: They’re obviously just jealous

EL: Or not nearly interesting enough.

Charles sent back a laughing emoji and Erik tapped on his profile picture, trying to enlarge it a little, as he so often did when he spoke to Charles. He’d always idly thought that someone’s profile picture could tell you a little bit about them. His own was a picture of a great white shark that Raven had texted him from the aquarium saying ‘he’s got your smile’. Hank had a picture of a southern blotting array, apparently - he’d asked, once, and left none the wiser. Moira and Sean had pictures of actors, Emma had a picture of herself flipping the bird, and Raven’s picture changed every couple of days, a landscape, a piece of artwork, a macro close up of a leaf, whatever she felt like at the time.

Charles’ photo had to be of an actor or a celebrity of some sort. The photo was clearly professionally taken, for a magazine or something. The man in the picture had dark brown hair falling in waves around his face, a broad nose and the most gorgeous lips, quirked into a half smile, as if the actor, whoever he was, didn’t want the photographer to know he was amused. He was wearing a blazer, his blue shirt open at the top few buttons to show tantalizing hints of collarbone and freckles. And his eyes. Oh, dear god, his eyes, so wide and blue and staring right into Erik’s soul.

Erik definitely had a crush on the nameless actor. But the best thing about it was that if Charles had a picture of some pretty actor on his profile, he was also probably, maybe, possibly queer himself.

His phone chimed, and he clicked back off the picture.

CX: Raven tells me you’re definitely coming to the party on Friday! It’ll be good to meet you in person, my friend

EL: Thank you for inviting me - are you sure you want a complete stranger there??

CX: You’re hardly a stranger, we’ve been talking for weeks!

Erik found himself smiling again. Charles was so cheerful and friendly - what on earth was he doing chatting with a sarcastic misanthrope like Erik all the time?

EL: You’ve all been very kind. The people who told me New Yorkers were unfriendly are bastard liars

CX: Ah, well, I’m hardly a New Yorker, I’m afraid. I’m only Raven’s step-brother, and never managed to pick up the accent. I’m English

EL: To be fair people tell me the English are unfriendly too. Liars, the lot of them

Charles sent another laughing emoji, and Erik wondered what Charles sounded like when he laughed. He wondered what he looked like, for that matter.

EL: Can I bring anything to the party?

CX: Only yourself, please.

He didn’t know what it was that made him ask. What was he thinking? He couldn’t even blame the alcohol, because Raven and Sean had been monopolising most of that on the drive up to Westchester, and he couldn’t blame his giddy mood on the others, because Moira had been talking to him most of the trip about the recent opinion polls. So why? Why in the name of all that’s holy had he sat back after they stopped to pick up some more beer, opened up the messaging app and texted Charles?

EL: I have to confess, I’ve got a massive crush on the guy in your profile picture, and it’s driving me mad - who is he? I don’t recognise him from any films

And then the reply that made the bottom drop out of Erik’s world and made his stomach cold with horror.

CX: Oh… well, that’s very flattering. It’s a picture Raven took of me a couple of years ago

And now what the hell was Erik going to do? He couldn’t ask Moira to stop the car so he could run out into the woods and become a hermit. He couldn’t exactly brush it off. He couldn’t take it back. What he wouldn’t do for the ability to go back in time and tell him to leave his fucking phone alone.

He wanted to apologise, but why would Charles even want to talk to him? How creepy was it to hear someone had been checking out a picture of you? He’d thought it was a photo of an actor, but there was no way he’d ever have told the actor he found him captivating. What was Charles meant to do with this information now, when Erik was about to turn up at his door and impose on his hospitality for hours?

Part of him wanted to send him a photo of himself as some sort of twisted apology, but what was that meant to do? Was Charles meant to go ‘oh, I too have a crush on you!’

“What’s up, Erik?” Raven asked, shoving his shoulder.

“I just told accidentally told someone I have a crush on them,” he croaked, just taking Charles’ name out of the equation before he could fuck things up even further.

“How the hell did you do that?” she laughed, taking another draw of her beer.

“I didn’t know it was their picture,” he moaned. “I just wanted to know which actor it was and it was them.”

“Show me!” she said, grabbing for his phone. He stuffed it between his legs, and she narrowed her eyes at him, calculating. “Don’t think that’s a no-go area for me, Lehnsherr.”

“How am I going to look them in the eye now?” Erik wailed instead, covering his face with his hands.

“I bet she was pleased,” Sean said, turning around from the front passenger seat. “It’s a compliment, isn’t it? Not like you were creepy to the girl, were you?”

“No,” he said, not bothering to correct Sean’s assumptions. “I mean, not deliberately… but it’s creepy to think someone’s been looking at your picture that way, isn’t it?”

“Only if you’ve been wanking over it,” Sean shrugged.

“Sean!” yelped Moira, slapping him on the arm.

“Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

Raven patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” she said. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have you perving over them.”

“Oh god, don’t put it that way!” he yelled.

***

He spent the rest of the drive trying to work out what to say in response, to work out exactly how he could apologise and regain a little bit of his pride. He knew he was overthinking this, Raven, Sean and Moira had changed the subject and started chatting about something else quickly enough, but he was already worked up about meeting so many new people, to have made such a social faux pas before he’d even met them was almost unbearable. So much for thinking he’d got his social anxiety under control.

The worst thing about it, the thing he really couldn’t admit to, wasn’t that he’d just told some stranger he thought he was pretty. It was that he’d told Charles he had a crush on his face. Charles. He already had a fucking crush on Charles through his messages! Now he was going to have to meet him for the first time without being able to hide his feelings, rather than feeling out whether Charles would be open to maybe going out for coffee or dinner with him, he was dumped straight past that careful searching right into blurting out ‘gosh you’re pretty!’

And then he had to walk up the drive to the most fucking gorgeous mansion, Raven making sarcastic comments about how she fucking hated the place and she didn’t know how Charles could stand living in all the bitter memories of their shitty childhood, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he just… ran off round the side and didn’t stop until he found some summerhouse or something - Americans had those, didn’t they? - and just hid there until he could sneak back into the car at the end of the party.

Raven shoved the door open. “Charles? Hey, birthday boy!”

Emma poked her head around the corner. “He disappeared somewhere about fifteen minutes ago, we were gonna send a search party. But you guys have beer, so fuck that!” She kissed them all in turn, waving them through to a huge panelled living room where people were scattered over leather couches and a pool table that had been pushed to the side. “Hey, everyone! This is Erik, be nice.” She smirked at him and left.

Erik stood tall and smiled at everyone. Mistake. A gangly lad slouching on the pool table actually squeaked. It seemed Erik had smiled like thatagain.

He toned it down and went to put his beers on a desk that was really never meant to be abused in such a way. The crowd mostly went back to their conversations, and Erik felt like he could breathe again. At least until Charles came back.

But he didn’t come back. Another fifteen minutes passed. He made awkward conversation with a blond kid who looked about nineteen and like he’d be more at home in a biker gang, and then much less awkward conversation with a guy called Darwin who had some interesting opinions about the state of the education system, but got called away mid-rant.

And Charles still wasn’t there. Nobody seemed too bothered, but Erik couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault somehow. Like he’d made things weird and Charles didn’t want to see the guy who’d been enlarging his profile photo to get a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

Fuck. He needed to get out of there. He slipped quietly away from the room, back into a corridor, trying to find the main door, but the place was bloody huge. He must have taken the wrong turning somewhere. That door looked right - he turned the handle and… well, that was definitely not the door to the kitchen. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”

The man in the wheelchair turned, long brown hair flicking back over his shoulders, and startled, familiar, blue eyes met his. “Charles?” Erik asked, blinking.

Charles opened and shut his mouth. “Erik?”

Erik laughed. Somehow having him right there across from him made his earlier fuckup so much smaller. “God, I’m so sorry for my message, I didn’t know that was you in the picture, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Especially on your birthday.”

“Uncomfortable?” Charles blurted. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a dark room for about half an hour during your birthday party.” He frowned. “Actually that sounds like something I’d do.”

It startled a laugh out of Charles, just a short one, and Erik grinned. It sounded more lovely than-- shit, he shouldn’t be thinking like this, he’d already made things so awkward between them. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I can go if you--”

“No!” Charles cleared his throat. “I mean… you don’t have to. I’m… I just…” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was embarrassed.”

Erik winced. “Yeah, I can’t apologise enough.”

“Not about that,” he said, blue eyes peering up at him, and he looked so damn sad. Erik wanted to hug him. “I just… I should have changed that profile picture. I just… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Erik asked, frowning. He found himself crossing the room, sitting on an armchair across from Charles.

Charles gave a sad half-smile. “Well… it’s a bit misleading, isn’t it? I don’t look much like that any more. I mean, I’m getting better, I’m off the morphine, I’m… well, I’ve had a lot of help with everything. But I don’t… that’s not me in that picture any more, I suppose.”

Erik cocked his head on one side. “I recognised you.”

“I assume the wheelchair was a bit of a giveaway.” He glared at Erik suddenly. “I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore - I had some… issues with it to start with, but that’s not why I’m hiding. If people can’t cope with my disability they can fuck off. It’s…” He gestured to his face. “I’m not exactly… that person any more.”

“First of all,” said Erik, “I didn’t know you were in a wheelchair. I didn’t know you’d had an accident, I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a rough time but… I recognised you from that picture. Your eyes are the same, your nose.”

“Oh, God, my nose,” Charles said with a rueful chuckle. He glanced up at Erik, long lashes framing his perfect blue eyes. “Now you must think I’m terribly vain. Hiding in here because I’m worried my lovely new friend won’t have a crush on me any more now he knows I look like a washed up old junkie.”

Erik groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Then he looked up at Charles again, the soft brown curls framing his face and falling down to his chin. He wondered how the scruff on his cheeks would feel against his fingertips, and he took a step over the edge. “I had a crush on you before I knew that was your face,” he said quietly. “The way you talk, the way you argue, your passion - your bloody naivete, honestly, Charles! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person so we could talk properly, interrupt each other in person, discuss politics and literature and chess until everyone else around us gets bored and leaves.”

Charles smiled, a wide, sincere thing which curled up his cheeks and crinkled the skin by his eyes. “Well,” he said, the room dark and quiet around them. “And here I was thinking I was the only person who could fall for someone by text.”