#so in Australia that’s the lead up to my birthday

[cheriladycl01]

The Bottle - Carlos Sainz x Reader

Plot: You'd always believed in soulmates, in your culture an old tradition was that a person would send out a letter in a glass bottle for their soulmate with clue's requesting the person who found it comes to find them.

Carlos walked along the long stretch of sand with his cousin. It was summer and they were vacationing in Mallorca in the family property.

They'd gone for a morning jog keeping up with his fitness plan for over the summer break ready for the second stint of his F1 season.

"What's that?" Carlos mumbles looking down at the glass bottle buried half in and half out of the season. He reaches down to pick it up but his cousin smacks his hand away.

"It could be broken and hurt you!" he exclaims looking at Carlos in shock as to why he would be so silly.

"It's not broken look, there's a note inside I'm intrigued!" he says pulling it out the sand and popping the cork off the top that was keeping the paper dry.

He pulls the paper out looking and reading the note on it.

Dear Soulmate, If you picked this up, it's because something called you too. In my culture when we do this and someone picks it up it means their our soulmate. I now have to give you clues and if you're intrigued enough you'll come find me. My name is Y/N and I'm 21 years old. Clue 1: I'm from country known for it's monarchy! Clue 2: I have a degree in fashion design from a top university Clue 3: 2021 Clue 4. I work under Mr McQueen Clue 5. 36 Clue 6. Enbankment Yours Sincerely, Your Soulmate.

"No way!" Carlos laughs re-reading it! He stuffs it in his pocket, knowing to take it home and look more into it.

"What was it!" his cousin asks looking over.

"Nothing!" he exclaims not wanting his cousin to think he was crazy, but Carlos had a strong belief in fate. This meant that of course he would come and find you.

You had actually sent that bottle out years ago on your 21st birthday in Australia, you were now 24 and thriving in your career as a fashion designer in Alexander McQueen.

You'd forgotten about the bottle since you'd done it, for a few months after you hoped someone would have found it but it slowly become one of those things you just forgot about.

For Carlos, he returned home with the note in his jacket pocket and he set it down on his desk.

He couldn't help but giggle re-reading over the clues and note. As a famous F1 driver he found the working under McQueen funny, but that didn't lead him too much.

But his best chance would be to join Lando for the week before the British Grand Prix, as he knew that you'd be in the UK. According to clue 1.

"Lando, please take this seriously this is a real person I want to find her!" he exclaims shoving the photocopied version of the original letter as he didn't want to destroy it.

"Okay, right so you've determined she's a uni student from the UK. There's like over 150 universities here so it's going to be impossible especially if we don't know what year she graduated" Lando sighs looking down the clues.

"Well, what about Clue 3, 2021, you recon that's when she graduated?" he asks and Lando puts a finger on his chin, thinking for a moment.

"It could be, but that would mean she also would have sent it out in 2021, how did this survive for four years at sea!" Lando exclaims looking over at Carlos who has his head tilted in shock.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, the youngest you can graduate is 21 in the UK, so if she did it in 2021, at age 21 she would now be 24?" Lando admits.

"And it says top UK, university that's either Oxford or Cambridge. And only Cambridge have a specific one called Fashion Design" Lando explains after some research making some deductions.

"Take me there!" Carlos says suddenly.

"To Cambridge... no mate! Look there's other clues. She's got a fashion degree, is in the UK and works under Mr McQueen, she probably is a designer in London HQ of Alexander McQueen which would explain Embankment!" Lando deducts and Carlos just has a shocked look on his face the whole time.

"What is Enbankment?" he asks.

"It's an underground station, I bet that's the station she uses to get home, to Apartment 36 perhaps?" Lando asks.

"Fuck onlyfans, if F1 fails become a god damn detective!" Carlos says pulling him into big hug before letting go and pulling shoes and a coat.

"Where are you going?" Lando shouts after him.

"The McQueen HQ building!" Carlos shouts back.

"Do you even know where it is?" he asks making Carlos pause.

"No, but I'll find it!" he shouts back before running out the door.

He tries to find his way around the underground system of London before googling the HQ and where it was. He eventually got there into the reception checking to see it was 4pm, not the end of office work day so maybe he would catch you.

"Hi there, really sorry. Looking for a Y/N?" he asks and the older lady looks over at him with a frown.

"Business?" she says in a posh British accent.

"Erm..." he couldn't think of anything to say.

"She's a friend of mine from Uni, from Cambridge" he smiles and she looks over him.

"Well, you just missed her, she left for the day about 10 minutes ago!" she offers and he sighs.

"Enbankment!" he says before running out the building. He runs down to the underground and he starts to look around all the people on the platform.

You were stood there, leaning against the underground wall and reading your book.

Carlos eyes were darting around the platform, he could make deductive reasoning. He was looking for a 24 year old fashionista and when his eyes met yours, it was like something in him just knew that it was you.

You looked at him with your head cocked to the side in confusion as to why this man was looking like that as you. However, as the tube pulled into the station your gaze wavered as you made your way on.

Carlos was in awe that he wasn't moving until someone ran past him to try catch the door. He realized you were gone and must be on the train, so he did the same getting on as the doors were closing into separate compartment.

He waited and at every stop he'd poke his head out to see if you got off. At one particularly busy stop, some people get off and a bunch of people push on before he can poke his head out, he gravitates back towards the front and sees your hair in the little bow walk away and towards the exit.

He pushes through and jumps out the doors just as they are about to close. He runs up the only stairs that are there seeing you at the top swiping a rail card onto the scanner and being let out of the gates.

He runs foreward swiping his own card.

"Hello, sir... can we take a minute of your time to talk about Climate Change!" a protester stops him, with a smile on his face where he looks behind her to see you stepping out into the sun lit street.

"I'm really sorry! No! I'm late to meet someone!" he explains before pushing past and running through the gate swiping the Oyster Card he owned from when he worked with McLaren.

He runs out onto the street where you did letting his eyes adjust to the light as he looks around for you. His eyes catch the long dress you were wearing, it was colourful and red, a colour he considered his since working for Ferrari.

He saw you walking into a building block and started to run towards the traffic lights and presses the button straight away. He waits for the green man before running across apologising to anybody he bumped into. He finds the entrance seeing security there and panics.

God they'd think he was crazy if he asked them to let him in. But then again. He was Carlos Sainz!

"Hey, I was hoping i could look round the building. I'm thinking of letting a place!" he smiles his puppy smile at the two guards on the gate who turn to him with stoic expressions before noticing who it is.

"Yeah sure! That's fine! Can we get a picture with you? Me and my son are huge fans!" he exclaims making Carlos nod. After he walks into the building looking around for a map of where rooms were.

36 - thats what he was looking for.

17th floor, he got into the lift and pressed the number shooting up. He fixed his hair in the lift getting nervous to meet you, this complete stranger.

Why was he even doing this?

He exists the elevator and walks down the corridor to your apartment and stands outside. He waits for what feels like forever before he knocks on the door.

He waits and then there you are in front of him.

"Hi" he breathes out looking over your gorgeous features.

"Can I help you?" you ask looking over him. You could sort of remember his face, but from where you didn't know right now.

"Erm, I!" he starts.

"Wait your the guy i saw in the tube, did you ... follow me here?" you ask stepping out the apartment shutting the door behind you so he couldn't get in if he was a crazy person.

"Yes. But, your Y/N, you should be 24 right now. You went to Cambridge and studied Fashion design and live in a country with a famous monarchy. You work for a Mr McQueen which actually means Alexander McQueen where you use the tube to get to work each day and live at apartment 36" Carlos breathes out all in one breath, you cock your head to the side in curiosity wondering why they were such specific facts until he pulls out a sheet of paper that you never thought you'd see again.

"No!" you laugh putting a hand over your mouth.

"Where did you find this!" you ask looking up at the man in awe.

"A beach in Mallorca" he offers scratching the back of his neck trying to work out what you were thinking right now.

"I chucked this off a boat in Australia on my 21st birthday" you gasp in shock at how far it had come.

"My family has a holiday home in Mallorca and it was on the beach where I run everyday!" he smiles nodding.

"And you actually came to find me?" you laugh in shock thinking it was a silly thing your mum would always tell you was how your family did things. Its how she found your dad, how you nan found your grandad and how your aunt found your uncle.

"Well, I did find it. I was curious!" he grins, looking at you and you look around the corridor before you bite your lip.

"Did you maybe want to talk about all this craziness over dinner?" you ask looking up at him.

"I'd love that!" he smiles, holding a hand out for you.

"I cant believe you found me!" you smile, placing a kiss on his cheek making them turn a little pink.

"Mmmm I did find you! All from the Bottle."

Taglist:

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[shellbilee]

Hello fellow Aussie! 🇦🇺❤️

It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Glen Powell fic?

Maybe they’ve been doing long distance for a while (they met when she was in the US from Australia for a holiday) and Glen decides to surprise her with him turning up at her door for her birthday or something?

If you can’t..it’s all good 😊

Have a good night! 😁

I am a week late, but happy birthday Queen! I hope you had the greatest day and got absolutely spoilt rotten.

Apologies to all my Hey There Darlin' readers, the next chapter update was delayed because I wanted to put this together for my favourite fellow Aussie. (Next chapter will be up ASAP).

So here's my little gift to you @queenslandlover-93, which would never be enough to thank you for all of your constant support on my work. Much love to you sweets!🩵

---

One Afternoon in Austin

A Glen Powell RPF One Shot Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Words: 5.5K

You glance down at your phone for the hundredth time, inhaling a long breath when you see no new notifications on the screen.

You sigh, lips stretching into a somber smile at the sight of your two smiling faces pictured on your home screen.

God you missed him.

It had been 18 whole hours since you'd spoken to Glen - not since he'd face timed you at 12.01am, determined to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. You'd answered within three rings, feeling your whole body warm when his gorgeous face appeared on the screen, teeth flashing in the effortlessly handsome, all-American smile that you loved so much. 

Glen.

Even ten months later, you still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that you were dating Glen Powell, and if you were being honest, you weren’t sure you ever would.  If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be in a serious relationship with one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors, you'd have snorted and laughed out loud. 

You'd met Glen when you were solo traveling through the USA last June. You'd been about halfway through your twelve week trip, having started high on the west coast and working your way down South and across, making it to Texas. The plan had been to spend a few days there, first in Austin, then Houston and a couple of other places, before moving onto Louisiana to New Orleans.

Two days into your Austin visit - staying in a modern little air BnB not far from the city, you'd been coming back from a run through the suburbs when you'd come across a little tan and white dog standing alone on the sidewalk. You remembered stopping and looking around, waiting to see if anyone would appear, hoping that someone was walking their dog off lead and hadn't caught up yet. No one appeared to be out searching for it, the surrounding houses seemingly quiet.

You'd knelt down and whistled for the dog, smiling when it wandered over to you immediately, tail wagging and panting happily. You'd cooed at the tiny animal, patting its fluffy head, sitting down on the grass beside it so you could get a better view of its collar.

The dog's name had turned out to be Brisket, a fact you'd found both adorable and amusing, flipping over the metallic name tag to find a phone number engraved on the other side. Deciding that Brisket must have wandered out of his yard and was now lost, you'd picked up the tiny dog and walked the rest of the distance home to your air BnB. Letting Brisket out into your yard, you’d gotten him some water and set about calling the number from his name tag, sitting down on the back porch next to him as you’d listened to the phone ring. 

The phone had ended up ringing through to voicemail, and you’d soon discovered that Brisket’s owner was a man named Glen with a deep Texan accent. You still remembered smiling at the sound of his voice, some part of you internally swooning as you listened to him tell you to leave a message after the tone.

You’d left a quick message, telling him your name and how you’d found Brisket, and that you’d brought him home with you to get him out of the afternoon heat. You’d sent a quick text as well, detailing the same, in case he was otherwise indisposed and unable to take a call. 

Fifteen minutes later you’d been relaxing on the backyard grass with a trashy romance novel, Brisket snoozing peacefully by your side, when your phone had started ringing. Immediately recognising the number as Glen, you’d answered, not at all surprised to hear a panicked voice greeting you instead of the calm, easy going one that had spoken to you in a voicemail.

You’d reassured him that Brisket was fine, healthy and laying happily by your side, explaining that you didn’t have a car, but that you could get an uber to wherever he needed. Glen had offered to come to you but you’d politely declined, not entirely comfortable with giving your address to a stranger when you were traveling solo, instead asking where he was and insisting that you’d go to him. You’d soon discovered on your maps that he was only a ten minute drive from your air BnB, promising that you’d be there soon and that he had no reason to worry about Brisket as he’d thanked you profusely. 

Exactly twenty-three minutes later your Uber had arrived at what you could only describe as a modern Texas mansion, and you remembered the way your jaw had instantly dropped as your eyes had run over the sheer expanse of the property. Telling the Uber driver to stay put, you’d lifted Brisket into your arms and made your way up the palatial driveway, feeling the beginnings of sweat at the back of your neck from the hot Summer afternoon as you’d knocked on the enormous wooden door. 

The Texan royalty, as it turns out, was Glen Powell.

You remembered eyeing off the huge black Ram in the driveway, an expensive black SUV and a smaller white BMW next to it, deciding that you must have stumbled onto some kind of Texan royalty judging by the house and cars in front of you. You’d chuckled to yourself at the thought just as you’d heard the sound of the front door opening, turning around to find a sight that you’d not at all been prepared for.

You’d tried your best not to stumble over your words, certain you looked like a gaping goldfish as you'd introduced yourself and passed a happily wrigging Brisket over to him, thankful for your sunglasses as you’d looked back at him. You remembered thinking that he somehow looked even more handsome in person than he did on screen - a fact that you didn’t think was at all possible, assuring him that it was no problem when he’d thanked you again for finding Brisket. It had taken everything you had not to audibly moan at the sight of him, hoping that your blatant staring wasn’t totally obvious as you took in his stubbled beard and effortlessly charming smile, golden tanned skin and thick, muscled arms.

God.

What you hadn’t known, and would eventually discover weeks later, was that Glen was just as shocked to find you when he had opened his front door - a gorgeous young woman standing alone with a smile that had quite literally stopped him in his tracks and left him momentarily lost for words.

He’d thanked you again and you’d promised him that it was really no issue at all, offering a small wave as you’d turned to make your way back to your waiting Uber. Just when you'd been thinking that meeting Glen Powell had to be the highlight of your trip, you'd heard Glen call out your name and tell you to wait. You remembered turning around to face him then, only to find him taking a step towards you with Brisket still in his arms.

He’d proceeded to ask if you'd wanted to come in for a drink, adding that he had to somehow thank you for finding Brisket. You'd declined of course, reasoning that you had to get back to your Uber - and even now you could still remember the distinct feeling of every single fiber of your body screaming at you to reconsider as Glen continued to insist you stay.

“Please come in?”

He’d asked again, the look on his face making it near impossible to say no, emphasizing that the least he could do was offer you a drink and temporary reprieve from the afternoon heat. You remembered standing there for a moment, seemingly frozen in place, weighing up your potential options.

Get back in the Uber and go back to your air BnB.

Or;

Take up the offer for a drink with one of the most attractive men you’d ever met. 

Thinking back to that moment now, you wondered how you ever possibly considered otherwise.

Giving in to Glen, you'd jogged back to the Uber and thanked him for waiting, telling him he could go before making your way back to Glen at the front door. It was at that moment that you’d felt Glen’s eyes on you - running subtly over your figure, suddenly becoming self conscious that you were still sporting the shorts and tank activewear combo you’d worn on your run earlier. 

On the transcript of your life, this was certainly not the outfit you’d envisioned wearing if you ever came across a gorgeous Hollywood celebrity.

Anyway.

He’d invited you in and you’d accepted gratefully, instantly thankful for the cool of the air conditioner as you followed him down the enormous hallway. He’d since put Brisket down, the tiny dog now happily trotting alongside his owner, the sight making you long for Flynn, your three year old Australian Shepherd dog back home.  

The sound of voices at the end of the hallway made you stop in your tracks, Glen turning around and looking back at you concerned. You’d stammered wide eyed, telling him you didn’t want to interrupt if he had people over, instantly feeling like an intruder despite Glen’s genuine insistence that you weren’t. He’d stepped towards you then - close enough that you remembered the exact moment the scent of his sweet cologne hit you, his sage green eyes looking back at you earnestly and promising that you weren’t interrupting, that it was just his family that was over for a barbecue.

That new information had sent an instant tidal wave of nervousness crashing down your spine, your heartbeat immediately heavy in your ears. Now not only were you being invited into Glen Powell’s home, you were also seconds away from spontaneously meeting his family. 

Fuck.

You remembered laughing then - a short, giddy bubble of laughter, Glen’s face splitting into a smile as you did so. Your laugh had been one of incredulousness, your brain unable to fathom the situation that you were currently in.

Of all the things you’d imagined you’d do whilst on your solo travels, this was most certainly not one of them.

Glen had gestured with his hand for you to follow him and somehow your frozen feet were able to oblige, the hallway opening up into an expansive open kitchen and living area, complete with enormous glass french doors that opened onto a luxury deck and pool outside. 

You remembered not knowing where to look first - at the enormous turquoise pool, or the insanely stunning view of rolling hills and a lake behind it, the luxury styled interior of the house or the adorable little blonde girl in her swimmers that was staring curiously at you from the back doorway.

Almost immediately she’d spoken, pointing and asking her uncle Glen very loudly who you were, her voice making the rest of the people outside stop and look inside. You remembered your face flaming then, embarrassment flushing your skin as you'd fought the urge to sprint back towards the front door.

You didn’t have a fear of public speaking but in that moment it felt like you had spontaneously developed one.

Glen had informed his niece - who you’d soon discovered was named Gwen, of your name and explained that you were the girl that had found Brisket and brought him home, an older lady suddenly appearing from somewhere inside the house and clapping her hands happily when she’d spied Brisket at Glen’s feet.

As it turned out, it was Lauren’s and Will’s house - Glen’s sister and brother in law, and Witt, their son and twin brother of Gwen, had accidentally opened the back gate and Brisket had wandered out, unbeknownst to everyone at the barbecue. Glen, who had just finished grilling had whistled for Brisket to offer him a cut off of steak, only to find that Brisket had gone missing and that the back gate was open. Just as everyone had scrambled to find keys to go out and look for him, Glen had picked up his phone and seen the text from you, prompting everyone to relax knowing that Brisket was safe.

The lady had turned out to be Glen’s mother Cindy, Glen immediately introducing the two of you as she offered her own thanks for finding Brisket before pulling you in for a hug.The gesture had taken you by surprise but offered a surprising amount of comfort, the nervousness that had your knees threatening to give way slowly easing.

Fifteen minutes later, you’d been introduced to the entire Powell family and were seated on an outdoor lounge by the pool next to Glen’s younger sister Leslie, wine in hand and nominated an additional judge of the pool diving contest between Gwen, Witt and their dad Will. You’d clapped and laughed your way through it, thankful for your sunglasses for the second time in less than twenty minutes when Glen had taken his shirt off and joined as a fourth participant in the contest. 

God.

You remembered biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’d drawn blood, using every ounce of strength you had to look away when Glen had emerged from the pool, water droplets sliding down his golden, muscled form. 

Later you'd found yourself sitting and talking with Glen’s other sister Lauren and his dad Glen Senior, telling them all about your trip in the US so far and how you’d come to find yourself in Texas. They in turn had asked you about yourself and you’d shared about your home back in Australia, your job, Flynn and your family, Glen coming to join at some point later sitting down on the lounge beside you with a drink refill.

You’d talked and laughed with the Powell’s for the rest of the afternoon, all of your nerves from earlier having seemingly disappeared. It was like you’d known them all for months rather than only an hour, feeling right at home with the bubbly, extraverted, Texan family. They’d asked you about your plans for the remainder of the trip, offering their own tips and recommendations for the rest of your time in Texas which you’d accepted gratefully, making mental notes to adjust your itinerary.

Eventually the afternoon had faded into early evening, Glen Senior and Cindy saying their goodbyes and wishing you all the best for the rest of your trip, Leslie following suit soon after and making you promise that you’d say goodbye before you left Texas. 

You’d grabbed your bag announcing that you should probably get home too, Glen interrupting and insisting that he’d take you on his way back home. You knew better than to decline his offer, concluding that based on the day you’d had there was no reasoning with him. You’d said your goodbyes to Lauren and Will, thanking them for their hospitality for the afternoon, comforting Gwen with a hug when she’d gotten teary at you leaving - the two of you having bonded earlier when you’d told her that her diving was as good as a dolphin's and she’d told you that they were her favourite animal. 

Glen had driven you home then, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence, Brisket snoozing peacefully on your lap in the passenger seat. Pulling up to your air BnB, Glen had asked what your plans were for tomorrow and you’d informed him that you hadn’t quite decided yet - but you were tossing up between going out to see Lake Travis, or heading out into the hills to visit the country sights. 

Flashing you a smile that had made you momentarily lose your train of thought, Glen had offered you an alternative option - let him take you out for the day to show you a side of Austin from a local’s point of view. You remembered staring back at him then, your brain trying to ascertain whether or not you were dreaming that Glen Powell had just asked you to spend the day with him, looking at his perfectly handsome face and uttering an animated yes to his proposal.

He'd kissed you on the cheek and wished you a goodnight, telling you that he’d pick you up at ten AM before thanking you again for finding Brisket. You’d laughed and assured him for the tenth time that day that it was really no problem, thanking him for having you today and saying your own goodbye. He’d waited until you’d unlocked the door of your air BnB and you’d waved as you’d walked inside, your cheeks hurting from smiling as you’d closed the door behind you and leaned back against the wood.

Unbeknownst to you, the plans for the rest of your solo USA trip were about to be turned completely upside down. 

The next day with Glen turned out to be everything you’d imagined and more, the two of you talking, flirting and laughing from the moment he’d picked you up. He’d started the day by driving the two of you out to Lake Travis where you’d spent the morning stand up paddleboarding, Glen showing you his favourite spots on the lake and telling you about his family’s lakeside ranch a few hours out of Austin. Next was lunch from what Glen had promised was ‘the best Texan barbecue house’ in all of Texas, ordering his favourite steak sandwiches which quickly became the best meal you’d eaten on your trip so far.

After lunch he’d taken you on a hike through one of Austin’s national parks, the end of which had brought you to one of the most incredible sights you’d ever seen - a waterfall that spilled over a huge bowl-shaped canyon into a large swimming hole below. Glen had convinced you to walk the perimeter through the cave-like canyon until you were standing beneath the falling water, looking up at the natural sight in awe as Glen had snapped several photos of you and then the two of you together.

Looking out at the sunset, sitting beside Glen with his arm around your shoulders, you remembered thinking that this day - a day that would forever go down as one of the best days of your life, couldn’t possibly have gotten any better. 

After your hike he’d taken you over to wine country, where he’d introduced you to his good friends Daniel and Amy - owners of one of the most well-known vineyards and breweries in Fredericksburg. They’d given you a private tour of their venue before you’d sat down for drinks, looking out at the picturesque green vineyard and seemingly endless rolling hills, a stunning Texas sunset bathing everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

And then, just like that, it had.

Glen had driven you back to your air BnB and you’d promptly invited him for a drink, not quite ready to end your day with him. He’d happily accepted your proposal, parking his truck and following you in, sitting down on the living room couch as you’d gotten you both a beer. 

What followed was an evening of more stories and laughs, more flirting and mischievous teasing, the tension only growing between you as the night went on. Eventually though, as if neither of you could no longer fight it, Glen had leaned in and kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a soft, passionate want.

That passion quickly became tangible, like a craving neither of you could satisfy, lips and hands growing desperate until you’d both lost several items of clothing and Glen was asking where the bedroom was. 

You remembered thinking in that moment - when Glen was carrying you to the bed, his lips pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, that there would be no coming back from this. You’d sleep with Glen Powell, and tomorrow this would become nothing more than a fond memory for the both of you. 

After all, he was a Hollywood celebrity and you weren’t. 

He lived in Texas and you lived in Australia.

It would never work.

And so you’d decided, as Glen had laid you down on the bed and kissed his way down your body, that you’d forget all about tomorrow and just enjoy tonight.

Every single, sweaty second of it.

And all three delicious rounds of it.

When morning had arrived you’d fully expected to wake up to an empty bed, pleasantly surprised to instead find yourself wrapped in Glen's arms, his chest pressed firmly against your back. He'd felt you stirring, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck, his actions teasing soft moans from you that quickly turned into a tangle of sheets and naked limbs all over again.

What followed was two more days with Glen, the two of you spending almost all of your time together - him showing you all of his favourite things about his hometown, and even catching up with his sister Leslie again when she'd joined you both at a live music night that had ended with the two Powell's introducing you to line dancing. There'd been endless stories and laughs and adorable cuddles with Brisket, constant flirting and stolen kisses, and several more rounds of what had quickly become the best sex you'd ever had.

You'd proceeded to become only more and more infatuated with Glen, even despite the constant nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this would soon all have to come to its inevitable end. You’d known that conversation was coming, like a looming tornado that threatening to destroy your happy bubble with Glen at any moment, and on your last night in Austin as you’d sat on Glen’s couch with Brisket on your lap and wine in hand, it finally happened. 

You’d told him that it was okay, that you had no expectations of him and that you’d known all along that this was only ever going to be a vacation fling, assuring him that you’d loved every single second of your time and adventures together with him. Glen had been silent for a long moment then, looking back at you as he’d sat beside you on the couch with his gorgeous green eyes boring into your own, eventually taking your hand in his and telling you just how wrong you were.

He’d told you that he’d never before met a girl like you.

He'd told you that he’d never felt the way he had about someone he’d known for only three days.

He'd told you that he’d loved every single moment that you’d spent together and that he knew if he didn't tell you how he felt, he'd be forever wondering.

You swore in that moment that you’d forgotten how to breathe, your heart in your throat as you'd realized the implications of what Glen was saying to you.

You remembered wondering if you were really going to do this, if you could actually be in a relationship with Glen - in a relationship that was not only long distance, but also with a famous celebrity. You knew it would turn your world upside down and back to front a million times over, but the longer you’d looked back at Glen, getting lost in the gaze that was seemingly looking right through you, you’d realized that above all else, you were willing to try.

You’d fallen into his arms then, falling into one another over and over again, first on the couch, and then the shower, and then finally in his bed, eventually drifting off to sleep wrapped around one another as the evening ended and morning brought with it the inevitable tomorrow.

The rest of your trip had seemingly flown by, seeing the sights and experiencing the best of New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis and Nashville, making your way north to Boston and later New York where your twelve week trip would come to an end. Though those six weeks couldn’t compare to the time you’d spent with Glen in Austin and you’d missed him terribly, you’d spoken to him almost constantly throughout the rest of your travels - sending photos and videos, texting and face timing, following his advice and recommendations of the best places to go and see. 

What you hadn’t known and would only find out upon checking into your hotel room when you’d arrived in New York, was that Glen had organized to fly up to surprise you. You remembered feeling like you’d won the lottery when the hotel concierge had advised that you’d received a complimentary room upgrade to a suite, and just as you’d thought that your trip couldn’t possibly have wrapped up any better, you’d opened the suite door to find Glen waiting for you.

When you’d finally gotten over the shock of seeing him again, after you’d jumped into his embrace and kissed him with all of the emotions that you’d held in since Austin, Glen had taken you out for a romantic night on the town - and continued to do the same for every night that followed for the rest of your trip.

Eventually your solo travels had come to an end, Glen kissing you tenderly and promising that you’d see each other again soon, holding you tight in his arms as you’d sat outside JFK airport on the day of your flight home. You remembered trying to take in everything about your last few minutes with Glen then - the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips on your hair, the warmth of his chest as he held you pressed against him, desperate to prolong your last moments together not knowing when you’d next get the chance.

A tender goodbye that you swore you wouldn’t ruin with tears, one final kiss that you’d forever commit to memory and a promise that together you could make this work, you’d waved to Glen and made your way through the departure gates, boarding your flight home to Australia.

The months that followed had given you a new found respect for people in long distance relationships, missing Glen more than you thought possible - even with your constant communication. Some small part of you had expected your relationship to fizzle out a week after you’d arrived home - that your time with Glen would be nothing more than a memory, a story you told people about when they’d ask about your overseas travels, but just as you’d promised on your last day together, you and Glen had made it work.

He’d come to visit you three months after your trip, staying with you for two whole weeks in October. You'd shown him around your city in the same way he’d done with Austin, introducing him to your friends and eventually your family after your sister had all but begged to meet him, your dog Flynn loving Glen just as much as Brisket had you.

Those two weeks had been incredible, and as close to domestic bliss as you'd ever gotten, loving waking up to Glen each morning and falling asleep wrapped in his arms each night. Then there was the sex - both of you obviously desperate to make up for the three months apart, spending the first two days of his visit practically locked inside and christening every surface of your house.

All too soon it was time to say goodbye again, but not before you'd made plans to see each other for Christmas. You'd flown back to the states for the holidays two months later, the Powell family welcoming you back with open arms, Brisket especially happy to see you as he'd happily licked at your face. You’d gotten to experience your first ever Winter Christmas that year holing up at the Powell's family ranch, eating, drinking, dancing and laughing all the way through to New Years Eve, feeling nothing but love as you celebrated with Glen's sisters, parents and the twins.

The rest of that trip had gone by all too quickly, and soon you were saying your teary goodbyes all over again before you’d headed back home to Australia. This time you hadn't been able to plan your next visit with Glen - his latest film projects beginning and finally introducing you to life as a famous actor's girlfriend. You'd found yourself feeling consistently grateful for your job, friends and family then, their presence keeping your mind busy and away from thoughts of Glen’s chaotic schedule and the fact that you had no idea when you'd next get to see him.

It was at the Powell’s annual New Year's Eve party that Glen had told you he loved you, just as the clock had struck midnight and everyone had erupted into cheers of happiness. You remembered that moment vividly, your heart still racing whenever you thought about it, the two of you standing on the edge of the lake as Glen had wrapped you in his arms and kissed you, pulling away just enough so that he could whisper those three perfect words. 

And so, that had brought you all the way to June - nearly five months since you'd last seen him, as Glen had worked insane hours on a four month long shoot for his newest movie. Alongside the Australian Winter, made worse by the fact that you missed your boyfriend more than you'd previously thought possible, June had also brought with it something else seemingly upsetting - your birthday, also known as your thirty second lap around the sun.

Still, your friends had pulled out all the stops to celebrate your day - your three closest girlfriends taking you out on a spa date complete with a full body massage, facial and pedicure, followed by a tasting and lunch at the most stunning of vineyards which had continued well into the early evening. Your boozy, extended lunch had later turned into dinner and cocktails at a rooftop bar in the city, which soon turned into singing and dancing at a nearby karaoke bar despite your vehement protesting.

That's how you'd come to find yourself sitting in the booth with one of your friends, looking down at your notification-less phone as the other two girls performed an intoxicated rendition of It’s Raining Men on stage.

Though the girls had spoiled and pampered you on your day, it hadn't quite been enough to completely take your thoughts off of Glen and that fact that you hadn't heard from him all day. You knew he was busy with his shoot - having since learned that sometimes they could go for several hours at a time, knowing that there were many occasions where he just wasn’t able to have his phone on him in the middle of all the chaos. Still, despite not hearing from him since the early hours of the morning, he'd still somehow managed to spoil you on your birthday - organizing your favourite coffee and breakfast to be delivered to your door this morning, alongside the biggest bunch of stunning red roses that you'd ever seen. 

When you'd arrived at the winery for lunch later there'd been a second bunch of flowers, this one somehow bigger than the last, an exotic mix of eclectic tiger lillies and striking orchids, the colours bold, bright and beautiful. Alongside them had been a note, short and simple in the way that was classically Glen, telling you that he loved you with his whole heart and that he hoped you were having the best day with your friends for your birthday.

You and the girls had called it a night just before midnight, your own tipsy performance of Proud Mary signaling the end of your birthday. You kissed and thanked your girlfriends, incredibly grateful for the three of them in your life, waving goodbye to them in the taxi and making your way inside.

In any other circumstance, Flynn's lack of barking at your arrival would have alerted you to the idea that something was up, but in your several-drinks-too-many state you didn't quite pick up on that. So when you opened the front door to your house and found Glen standing in your kitchen looking back at you with the biggest smile on his face, all you could do was stare back at him momentarily - your brain a whirring mix of alcohol, surprise, overwhelm and love.

Eventually you separated enough that you could ask him what he was doing here and why he hadn't told you, Glen smiling and explaining between kisses that he was never going to not see you for your birthday. As it turned out he had the flight organized weeks ago, and had enlisted your friend's help to keep you busy while he made the long haul flight over, having planned all along to surprise you at the end of the night.

You ran at him then, bounding into his waiting arms and holding onto him with everything you had, burying your face in his neck as he whispered happy birthday baby in your hair. Depositing you on the kitchen bench he'd cupped your face and captured your lips in a tender kiss, both of you pouring all of the thoughts and emotions from your months apart into your intimate embrace.

Just as you launched into your next barrage of questions - about his latest project, about the film shoot, about his family and about Brisket, Glen had tilted your chin and silenced you with a slow, heavy kiss, the action leaving you breathless and momentarily lost for words.

“All of that can wait” Glen breathed, lips hovering over your own as his hand moved into your hair, “We’ll have time for questions later darlin’”.

“Later?” you asked, voice barely louder than a whisper, letting out a shaky breath when his free hand cupped the back of your bare thigh and pulled your body flush against his.

“Later” Glen affirmed, his silky voice low and his Texan accent thick, his intentions instantly clear when he rolled his hips into yours with a breathy, almost desperate groan, “First I’m gonna take you to bed and give my girl a proper happy birthday”.

---

TAG LIST FOR GLEN POWELL FICS:

@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface @meldizzzle

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #36 - Cocoa]

“When you lick warm cocoa off of Jungkook’s body.”

Genre: Smut, domestic Fluff, married life!AU

Warnings: sweet cuddles, walking down sweet memory lane, sub!Kook, soft Dom!Reader, Good Boy!Kook, Mistress as title, sex on the sofa, nipple play, nipple sucking, food play in the form of warm cocoa, she licks it off his body, edging, oral (f.receiving), temperature play, he warms up his mouth with the cocoa & then goes down on her, pussy fingering, choking (m.receiving), ownership kink, dirty talk, some foot action where she basically traces his cock with her foot for like two seconds, subby boy tears, he is such a whiney cutie, she rides him in Lotus Position, this is lovemaking, creampies but they are clean & on birth control, snuggly aftercare

Wordcount: 7.9k

a/n: someone sent in this prompt for Kinktober and as promised, I am here to deliver. I honestly fucking love writing for them, always will. They are my comfort couple and I want them to be happy always 🧡

You had a dream ever since you were fifteen and watched a documentary about polar lights. That dream involved you, a wooden cabin somewhere in Scandinavia, lots of snow and the polar lights. You forgot about that dream for a few years as life got busy and other dreams became more important. There was one person however, who never forgot about this dream. Your best friend for life. Jimin. And if there is one thing one needs to know about Jimin, it is that he doesn’t forget dreams and that he will surprise one with a present related to that dream even almost twenty years later after you first voiced it. 

And he did. Park Jimin, your brilliant and amazing and wonderful best friend, surprised you with tickets to Rovaniemi and with reservations for a cabin somewhere in deepest Lapland. It was his birthday present to you and you hugged him in tears for a solid three minutes. This was your dream since childhood, so you told him and then hugged him even tighter. And then you asked him how he even managed to plan all that to which Jungkook confessed that he helped and that "our schedules are both free around that time. I cleaned them up". You then proceeded to hug both of them and threatened them to promise you that they will never ever stop being so amazing. They both chuckled and promised that they would.

And then the time came for your trip. You and Jungkook took Bam with you, even if he was terribly nervous on the plane. Jungkook tried to calm him down with pets while you napped with your head on Jungkook's shoulder because of exhaustion (you couldn’t sleep all night from excitement and it finally caught up with you on the plane). Jimin and Yoongi also came with you, taking Holly - their dog - with them. The three of them were sleeping for most of the flight. Jimin also asked the others if they wanted to come with you, but they were all busy or already had other winter holiday plans. Taehyung and Hoseok escaped the fresh temperatures of your hometown by visiting Australia for a few weeks. While Namjoon wanted to stay back to work on his newest book and Seokjin was currently freshly in love. The two lovebirds planned to go fishing for a few days. She makes him really happy.

So it was just the four of you, which was just perfect and amazing and you were so, so happy. 

Jimin and Jungkook booked two small cabins next to each other with plains of snow surrounding them and dark conifer trees in the background. A small road lead to them. The park ranger of this cabin resort drove you to them in his perfectly equipped jeep while on the radio, Finnish rap was playing. Yoongi called it "amazing music with great flow" and then proceeded to chat about the artist with the ranger for the eternity of the drive. 

You sat around the open fire that night, chatting about your lives together whilst eating the best roasted food ever, courtesy of grill master Yoongi. Bam and Holly already slept that night and woke up first the next morning. 

For the next few days you didn’t do much except for walking, talking, eating and sightseeing. Except for that one day where Jimin booked a reindeer sleigh ride with picnic and ice skating on a lake. That day was amazing. Or the other day you went into the nearest town to get drunk on mulled wine only to leave again after two hours because Yoongi’s social battery ran out and you didn’t want to drag him along any longer. He told you that he could go home alone, but you proceeded to insist that you guys would stick together no matter what. Yoongi smiled and blushed because of it.

You haven’t seen the Northern Lights as of yet, however. The locals here told you that stuff like that can happen and sometimes tourists are just unlucky. You really, really hope that you weren’t one of those tourists. 

Jimin and Yoongi were in their cabin tonight. They wanted to be alone and you respected that. Bam was already sleeping. The poor boy is utterly confused by the constant darkness and has been sleeping for most of his time here. Except for his snow walks including major zoomies of course. He really loved those. Holly not so much. He prefers to stay inside for most of the time, napping by the heater or atop Yoongi’s discarded sweater. 

You were in your thickest sweater as well, bundled up in fluffy socks and thick flannel pants. You had some milk bubbling on the stove and ingredients for the yummiest hot cocoa waiting for you.

The door to outside slides open, the freezing cold enters the little cabin instantly. In steps Jungkook, wrapped up in thick outside clothes and with a few logs of wood under his arms. 

"Done?" you ask him.

"Yeah, just gotta carry them inside. It’s so freaking cold, my nose is falling off", he tells you, placing the logs in their designated basket. 

"Should I help?" 

"No, I’m good. I only have four more", he assures you and stomps back outside. His steps are heavy because of his boots and the distinct sound of snow clothing rubbing together accompanies them. The door stays open as Jungkook placed the logs in a heap in front of it before opening it so getting them inside would be easier. 

Once done, he closes the door again. He locks it and turns to you with a cute grin on his face. You can barely see it from all the clothing covering him, but you still know what he wants. He is waiting for you to praise him, you know him that well.

"You did amazing, sweetheart. You’re honestly so cool for knowing how to chop wood", you say, watching in delight how Jungkook wiggles happily.

"Yeah sure, no biggie. That’s what your hubby's for", dismisses you nonchalantly and then hurries away to change into his inside clothes. He does so with a giddy jump in his steps.

You chuckle. He is so cute.

Jungkook returns after a few minutes. He is wearing matching bottoms and socks, but wears a different jumper than you. Light brown and just tight enough that his arms look big and sculpted. He goes to you first, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he inhales deeply. 

He has his eyes closed, enjoying your presence to its fullest.

"You smell like fresh air", you tell him. You enjoy his presence too. Jungkook gives the best backhugs.

"Mhm", he hums, letting his breath tickle your neck as he finally exhales. Then he presses an adoring kiss to it, breaking away afterwards to walk to the fireplace. He begins stacking the new pieces of wood, doing so on his knees. The fire is crackling just enough that it wraps up the logs after a few seconds. He blows into the flames a few times before deciding with a nod that it was finished.

"The cabin should be warmed up soon", he says, standing up and closing the door of the oven. Then he turns, "are you still cold?"

"Yeah a little. But I’ll be better soon", you say, lifting the mugs of cocoa, "the cocoa is finished." 

"Ooh, I’m so excited", he says, meeting you halfway to take his cup, "wow, you made them look so pretty. Thank you so much", he gushes.

"I hope it’s yummy.  I think I put too much cinnamon", you say as you and him get comfortable on the small yet cozy couch. 

Jungkook places the woolen blanket over your bodies and you snuggle into him between his legs. Your head you rest on his chest while Jungkook places his arm over your tummy protectively. He runs his fingers up and down your stomach mindlessly, sending relaxing tingles over your skin.

"There is no such thing as too much cinnamon. I bet it's amazing", he says.

"Careful it’s-"

"Ah! Ouchies! My tongue", Jungkook gasps and whines, sticking out his freshly burned tongue.

"-hot", you finish your sentence, "Googie, it’s fresh from the stove, course it’s hot. Are you okay?"

"No?" he pouts, "I burned my tongue. Look", he whines, sticking out his tongue. It is a deep pink from getting burned. You crane your neck and move in, placing a kiss atop his tongue even if that makes him move away and chuckle.

"What was that for?"

"I kissed the pain away. Duh?"

He snorts, giving you a look.

"Thanks, I guess", he snickers, taking a sip of cocoa afterwards.

"Always happy to help", you joke, relaxing back into him. You finally take a sip as well, humming contently, "that’s so yummy. You were right, the cinnamon's just right."

"I think so too. It’s really good. You make the best hot choco", he says.

"Thank you", you say and close your eyes, "this is the best, seriously." 

"Yeah", he agrees and relaxes with a content sigh. 

You share silence with each other. It feels nice to share silence with him. It feels natural and safe. 

"You know what this holiday reminds me of?" Jungkook asks.

"Up north?" 

"Yeah exactly. How did you know?"

"Because I feel the same. Everything kinda makes me think of our cottage you know? Even the architecture's the same." 

"Yeah and the snow. Although I feel like the snow here is even more snowy. You know?"

"Yeah", you chuckle, "I agree. Although we had awesome winters too. Remember the Christmas party we had?" 

"Yeah I do. That’s one of my happiest memories." 

"Yeah?" you ask him, looking up at him.

"Mhm yeah. I had so much fun." 

"Me too." 

You and him exchange a kiss because the moment felt right to do so. Afterwards you relax into his chest while Jungkook goes for another sip of chocolate. There is a moment of silence and then Jungkook announces that he wanted to say something by letting out a quick "hm". You focus on his voice, but stay relaxed otherwise.

"Question time. What are your top three memories?" he asks.

"My top three memories? Like in general or with you?" 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, "can be both. But our wedding and engagement doesn’t count."

"Why?" you grin.

"Because they’re obviously both on first place." 

He makes you chuckle fondly.

"Yeah that’s true. Fine, okay let me think." 

"Okay, I’ll think of mine too." 

The fire crackles. The wind picks up outside. Jungkook chews on a marshmallow. You sip on your cocoa. It is really hard to decide on a memory. You could fill entire libraries with all the memories you made with him over the past decade. Difficult ones, happy ones, funny and romantic, hot and sexy, comforting and all oh so precious. Choosing only three feels impossible to do.

"Oh yeah", Jungkook breaks the comfortable silence, "and when we got Bam doesn’t count either."

"Fine god", you groan, "that would have been my first one." 

"Yeah same, but let's just say that wedding, engagement and Bam are invincible."

"Okay, okay." 

"Do you have yours already?" he asks.

"Gimme a moment, there's too many."

"I have one already."

"Tell me." 

"That one time I was at a tattoo convention ten hours away from you and you drove all the way there because I told you that morning that I was sad", he says. 

"And then I surprised you with pizza and cuddles", you say and smile, "I remember. We weren’t even engaged back then." 

"That’s the night I knew I gotta ask you." 

"Really?" 

Jungkook nods his head, "I always knew you’d be my wife one day, but that was the night I knew knew."

"I didn’t know that. Gosh Kookie", you say and pout, "I'm gonna cry. I love you so much." 

"I love you too", Jungkook grins cutely, "your turn."

"My turn", you say, cuddling into him. You run your fingers up and down his arm. It is covered in the most beautiful tattoo sleeve these days, but you remember the days when it was still empty. Jungkook always talked to you about how he will get it inked up one day and that he hopes you'll be there to witness it. You still lived in motel rooms back then, Taehyung was still an addict and you were still struggling in keeping your little gang together. So much has changed for the better since then. 

"That night we danced in the restaurant. Two failed attempts at purchasing a place and then it's the one right next to your studio", you laugh in sweet memory, "we were busy renovating the ugly counter and there were still no tables in there and it was already dark outside."

"And we listened to music and then I asked you for a dance and we used the entire room for it", Jungkook smiles, burying his nose in your hair, "I remember that night. I thought you looked so beautiful."

"Beautiful? I didn't wash my hair in ten days and was sweaty as fuck."

"Didn't matter. You smiled and that’s all that mattered." 

You crane your neck to look at him. His warm eyes race between yours.

"You're so fucking adorable sometimes", you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek, "tell me another memory." 

"When I taught you how to drive a bike", he says and smiles, "I remember you screaming about it being so scary but then not wanting to stop."

"I almost crashed my clumsy ass though", you say, making Jungkook snicker.

"Yeah but you didn’t and then we drove to that hill and screamed. Remember?"

"I do", you smile, "I felt so fucking free that day. I never screamed with someone before."

"Yeah me neither. It was a religious experience", he says, making you chuckle. 

"Yeah really?" 

"Yeah", Jungkook says in a snicker. 

"Now that I'm thinking about it. Wasn’t this also the night we had raw sex for the first time?" you ask him.

"It was. You felt so fucking good", Jungkook says, "for me at least." 

You turn in his arms, getting on your knees between his legs and placing your hand on his chest. Jungkook touches your hip, massaging it slowly. 

"It felt amazing for me too. Maybe it’s weird but I can still remember how it felt like to have you inside me for the first time. It’s weird cause we've done it a million times since then, but that first time is still so vivid in my mind." 

"I get you. I remember it too. You were so warm and so wet. I seriously wasn’t ready for how wet you were. I knew I never wanted to go back to condoms again", he says, sending heat to your cheeks.

"You were the first I ever did that with", you confess even if he already knows.

"I know. You were my first too", Jungkook whispers, eyes flitting to your lips. 

Yours do the same. Your heart flutters. Your stomach tingles. 

You know that feeling. That electric tension between you and him, tugging you closer and closer. It has been there since day one and has been growing ever since. 

You give in to the tug. Fingers fall to the back of his neck. Eyes flutter closed.

Jungkook cups your cheek instantly, sighing into the kiss with closed eyes and a racing heart.

The tension becomes unbearable, you tug each other closer to soothe some of it. It doesn’t help, only heightening your senses to each other. Oh, sometimes you wish that you could drown in him. He is so goddamn addicting.

The kiss breaks as air becomes sparse, but you stay close, rubbing your nose against his' softly. 

"Fuck baby", he whispers, lips tingling from the kiss.

"Do you have another memory?" you ask him quietly, playing with his soft hair. It’s gotten so long again. You witnessed so many of his hairstyles, as he did yours and each time you thought that it was the best one he ever had. And you were right each and every time because Jungkook is the most handsome in every hairstyle. He thinks the same about you.

"I forgot everything", he whispers, chasing your lips with a tilt of his head, "kiss me again, please."

"The cocoa."

"Put them on the table." 

You do. The table's not far away. You can reach it from your position. Jungkook holds your hips as support. He runs his hands up your sides once you return, stopping at your neck to pull you close. 

Your lips meet, your fingers tighten on the other, moans leave the both of you. It feels so good to kiss. Talking about your past always leaves you feeling so goddamn much for him. Tonight is no different. Warm and cozy with snowfall outside and a fire burning inside, you feel even more for him. 

"I'm so attracted to you", you whisper between kisses, making him chuckle softly.

"Me too baby, you drive me crazy", he breathes, "kiss me again, please."

"Kookie", you sigh, falling back into the kiss. 

Fingers tangle in his soft hair. His do the same. Your chests touch as you press yourself against him, Jungkook groans in reaction.

"Can't you take your shirt off? Please?" he asks.

"Already?" you chuckle, "this wins quickest time you got horny." 

"Hey", he pouts at you, "I'm not horny, I just wanna have your titties against mine." 

"And that’s not horny?" 

"Not yet at least."

You snort and chuckle. 

"Fine doofus, I’m taking my shirt off if you’re doing it too." 

"Already on it", he says, soon disappearing in the sweater as he takes it off. 

You use the moment to take off your own, throwing it on the floor in sync with Jungkook. 

Your eyes run over his body. His' do the same. 

"You're so fucking beautiful", Jungkook says, shimmying on the couch needily, "your body's fucking perfect, seriously." 

"Yours too. I seriously can’t get enough of it, baby", you say, seeking his closeness by scooting closer again. 

"Ah. My cock, careful", he squeaks, having the honor of getting your knee to press against it harshly on your desperate attempt of kissing him again.

"Sorry, you okay?" you mumble, lips trailing kisses to his neck as apology, "sorry booboo. So sorry." 

Jungkook tilts his head back, eyes closed and lips parting in a moan.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…really okay", he sighs, "that’s amazing…" 

You moan softly, sucking a hickey to his neck. 

"Baby you're gon' make me horny if you do that", he whispers.

You snicker, lifting your head. 

Jungkook peels one eye open, meeting your amused look.

"What?" he whines, opening both eyes and lifting his head, "I'm just saying, my neck's sensitive. And you're sexy, I can’t help it."

"You're so adorable", you chuckle and then reach for one of the cocoa mugs. 

Jungkook watches you with curious eyes. You take a sip first, nodding your head in agreement. 

"Why are you drinking choco right now?" he asks. 

"I have an idea."

"Okay?" 

You put your finger into the cocoa. It isn’t hot anymore, just very warm. It feels comfortable around your finger.

"What are you doing?" he asks, watching you stir your finger in the cocoa. 

"I wanna try something. Relax, it'll feel good", you say, meeting his gaze, "do you trust me, Kookie?"

"Yeah, I trust you", he says, eyes following your finger.

You pull it out and guide it to his nipple. Jungkook gasps with the first contact, back arching into your touch and eyelids fluttering.

"That's so warm", he rasps, fingers squeezing the cushion once. 

"Yeah? Do you like it?" you ask him, rolling your finger over his nipple slowly.

"Yeah, a lot."

You pull back, eyes racing over his chocolate covered nipple. There is a droplet of cocoa covering the silver ball of his piercing. You place your hand on his chest and lower yourself, tongue darting out to lick it off.

"Darling", Jungkook gasps, chest lifting in a deep breath, "oh god", he exhales, chest sinking again and hips squirming on the cushion.

He tastes so good. Like chocolate and slightly like metal and most of all like Jungkook. You suck his nipple between your lips, flicking your tongue over it quickly.

Jungkook laughs breathily, right hand coming to rest on the back of your head and thighs trying to squeeze together. He fails, obviously, and ends up squeezing you with them. That doesn’t stop him from continuing. He keeps rubbing his thighs against your body as his nipple tingles in pleasure. 

You release him with a slurp, lifting your head even if that makes his hand slip to the back of your neck. You lick your lips for his viewing pleasure, giving him a flirty smirk afterwards.

"And?" you ask him, "how's that for an idea?" 

"A million outta ten, please don’t stop", he says, chasing you with an arch of his back.

"That's my boy. I love this, darling", you say, dunking your finger back into the warm cocoa. You wiggle it a few times to really coat it, then pull it out. You connect it with the same nipple again, rubbing slow circles on it and listening to Jungkook’s blissed sigh.

You plan on getting this nipple sensitive to the point of Jungkook wanting to orgasm and only then you plan on moving on to the other side. Knowing Jungkook and his incredibly sensitive nipples, it sadly won’t take long, but you don’t mind. You just have to drag out the play. You’re good at that shit. 

You flick your tongue over his chocolaty nipple, holding him right under his armpit. Jungkook moans oh so sweetly, heavy eyes glued to your face and tummy tensing in pleasure. 

"So yummy", you whisper, lifting yourself again for another round of cocoa. You know that Jungkook expected you to suck his nipple like you did before, but you like to keep him on edge. Dragging out the play, remember? Your sweet man will learn soon enough what he'll get from being such a dream.

Jungkook gasps loudly with the third round of hot chocolate, hand slipping from your neck to hold your waist instead. 

"Baby, it feels so good", he squeaks out, making you lift your gaze to meet his droopy eyes.

He looks so fucked. Eyelids barely open, cheeks flushed and lips parted in quick pants. 

"Yeah? It’s nice that it’s a little hot, isn’t it?" you ask him, taking his nipple between your thumb and pointer finger to roll it slowly.

"Yeah", he squeaks, chasing you desperately, "oh god, baby."

"Mhm, such a good boy", you praise, lowering your mouth to his swollen nipple. You keep it pinched between your fingers, flicking your tongue over the very tip of it.

Jungkook tilts his head back and moans, thighs squeezing you oh so desperately and fingers digging into your softness. 

"Good boy, you’re so sensitive", you coo, giving his nipple a little kiss before lifting yourself again.  

Jungkook is desperate, looking at you with a pout. One you ignore to cover your finger again and then rub his nipple with it. You manage to accidentally put too much, resulting in the hot chocolate to run down his pec. It stops around three inches below his nipple in a small, round droplet. 

"Oops, put too much", you say in a chuckle.

"Hah", Jungkook retorts the laugh, sounding completely and utterly out of breath doing it. He most definitely did not hear what you just told him. He only laughed because you did. This man is not thinking anything, except that his nipple feels sensitive. 

You connect your tongue with the droplet, dragging it up his strong pec to clean off everything. Once you reach his nipple, you slow down, pressing the flat of your tongue against it to grind. It moves his piercing under your tongue, makes his nipple swell and causes Jungkook to moan squeakily. 

To make matters even more difficult for him, you decide that it was finally time for you to take him back between your lips. You suck on his nipple, basking in the whole body squirm it forces out of him.

"I wanna cum", he croaks, arching his back repeatedly while his thighs almost crush you from pressing together desperately.

You purr, sending vibrations through his nipple. 

"Please", Jungkook begs, head hitting the armrest of the couch and hips bucking up against your tummy. His cock is rock hard.

"Mhhm", you moan and slip off, placing your hand right under his nipple and watching in delight as Jungkook squirms in desperation. 

"You're so cute", you laugh, making him whine oh so desperately.

"Why did you do that?" he whimpers, hand coming to touch his own nipple, "oh god I wanna- ah!" 

You just slapped his hand away. Hard and demanding. Jungkook peels his eyes open, gawking at you with parted lips.

"No touching. That’s my job", you order with furrowed brows, "understood?" 

"Y-yes ma'am", Jungkook stutters, nodding his head vigorously.

"Good boy", you say, giving him a smile, "you're so adorable."

You put your finger back into the cocoa, coating it thoroughly before connecting it with his other nipple. It is finally time. 

Jungkook moans and closes his eyes again, head falling back against the armrest and hands coming to hold your waist. 

"That's nice isn’t it?" you coo, wrapping your lips around him afterwards to suck off the cocoa.

"Don't stop", he sighs as an answer, feeling a constant stream of warm pleasure run through his body. If you were to touch his cock right now, he would orgasm instantly. He feels so fucking charged. His nipples are so goddamn sensitive. The cocoa is so warm, your touch so skilled, your mouth so wet. Jungkook swears that he will actually pass out from how good it feels.

You lift your mouth again, blowing on his wet nipple. Goosebumps cover his skin instantly, a shiver runs down his spine. He arches his back, squeezing your hips between his thighs. The air feels so cold. 

"Pretty. You look so pretty", you praise, sparkly eyes glued to his hard nipple. It’s so fascinating just how reactive it is to whatever you do to it. 

You connect your newly covered finger with it, forcing a shaky sigh and a little whimper out of him. He pulls his brows into a deep frown, pouts to the point where his lower lip trembles, then parts them in another whimper. 

"That feels so good, doesn’t it?" you taunt in a lowered voice. 

"Yeah", he keens, nodding his head vigorously. 

"Of course it does", you whisper, lifting your finger again. You place your hand right under his armpit again and lower your head. With puckered lips, you blow again, basking in the desperate squirm he does because of it. 

Jungkook feels charged. He has always been a sucker for different temperatures. Ice cubes on his tummy, hot wax on his skin, warm lips around his cock, cold water between your heated bodies. He's always fucking loved how temperatures make him feel. But to have warm cocoa followed by cold air on his nipples almost makes him want to cry. 

"This is so much", he groans, throwing his head back to the point where you can watch his throat move as he moans. 

"Yeah? Just say the word and I'll stop", you say.

"Don't stop", he begs in a squeaky keen, "pwease bwaby." 

You snicker, "I see baby voice is the right option here", you say, rewarding his cute butt by covering him in a new layer of warm cocoa. 

"Oh god, seriously", he moans, arching his back, "it's so fucking good." 

You flick your finger then lower yourself. His nipple is so swollen between your lips, feeling oh so hot against your tongue. You moan deliciously, sucking on it while your tongue dances around his piercing. 

"Can I cum?" Jungkook begs, "pwease just a liddol?" 

You snort, lifting your head again. 

"First of all, baby talk is not gonna work on me and second of all, how are you planning on cumming just a little?" 

"Just like once, like pew", he thrusts his hips once, "like a gunshot." 

You laugh, "no?" you say.

"Please?" he pouts. 

"No." 

You wipe off his cute pout instantly by connecting your fingers with his other nipple for a change. Still charged from before, your touch sends the hottest pleasure through his body. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and tilts his head back, moaning unapologetically. 

"You're seriously so adorable, Kookie", you say, covering him in new cocoa, "even if you talk complete shit sometimes." 

"Hey, I'm not- ah", Jungkook forgets what he wanted to say, shivering deeply as you flick your tongue against his nipple to clean off the cocoa.

"What's wrong?" you taunt. 

"Seriously please", he whines, "why are you stopping again?" 

You rub his other nipple, watching how he tenses his tummy and chases you with a thrust. His cock is so hard, stretching the fabric of his sweats to its limits. You lower the mug to the very tip of his clothed cock. The temperature is low enough that it won’t burn him, but still high enough that he will feel the change in temperature. 

"Mistress", the pet name slips from his lips in a squeaky keen, followed by a shaky moan. 

You draw circles on his tip with the bottom of the mug, rolling his nipple between your fingers as you do. 

"Your cock’s so hard, Kookie", you coo. 

"Gonna cum", he confesses in a barely there whisper, "please Mistress."

"Too bad", you rasp, lifting with your hand and the mug, "I wanted to play longer."

"Oh my god, can I please cum?" he whines loudly, looking at you with glassy eyes, "why are you edging me? I didn't do anything." 

"Yeah you did." 

"What? No I didn’t."

"First of all, manners. Brat. And second of all, you are the cutest man in existence, that’s enough." 

"Please baby", he laughs desperately, "just wanna cum, please."

"Not yet. Get naked first."

Jungkook follows instantly. He scurries off the couch to take off his sweats and briefs. You do the same when he isn’t looking. Jungkook turns, eyes widening upon seeing your naked body. 

"Holy fuck", he whispers, cock twitching from the view. 

"Do you like it?" you ask him, sitting back down. 

Jungkook falls to his knees before you, pressing himself against your shins while his hands come to hold your hips. 

"I'm your slut. Seriously", he croaks, hard cock rubbing against your skin and eyes watering in desperation.

You giggle, "you're so cute", you gush, "why are you so cute, Googie?" 

"Why are you so perfect?" he throws back, burying his face between your thighs. He groans, moving his head left and right as he nuzzles you deeply, "baby you are so perfect. Why?" he whines into you, making you giggle happily.

"Cute", you say, reaching down to ruffle his hair. 

Jungkook lifts his head, gazing at you in complete and utter awe. 

"Can I eat your pussy?" he begs. 

"Ask me properly and you can", you say.

"Can I please eat you out, Mistress?" 

"There we go. Yes, you can", you say, propping your feet up on the couch.  

"Fuck", Jungkook hisses, eyes running over your exposed pussy, "you're so beautiful. Holy shit."

"Can you see how wet you make me? Mhm?" you taunt, wiggling your hips.

"Yeah…holy fuck I wanna taste you so bad", he croaks. 

"I'm not stopping you."

Jungkook however turns to get one of the cocoa mugs. He lifts it to his lips and takes a gracious sip, swirling the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it. 

You watch with a racing heart. You know exactly what he is doing. 

Jungkook closes the distance between his mouth and your pussy. He connects his tongue with you, grinding it up and down your soaked folds. He is looking up at you, wanting to see your reaction. The cocoa warmed him up which results in his normally already warm mouth to feel a hundred times hotter on your pussy. 

You chase him with a roll of your hips, fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. 

He lifts his mouth, licking his lips.

"How was that?" he asks. 

"Amazing." 

"Did you feel the difference?" 

You nod your head, "do it again."

Jungkook nods his head and takes another sip. He swirls it around for a bit and swallows it. Then he lowers his hot lips to your clit, eyes glued to it with hunger burning in them. He sucks on it, swirling his hot tongue over it. Just the tip. He makes sure to trace the parts which are the most sensitive.

"Fuck baby", you sigh, tilting your head back in bliss, "that’s so good. Don’t stop."

"It's so good. You taste so good", Jungkook says, covering his mouth in new warmth to pleasure your clit with it. Slow licks, fast swirls and needy sucks. He makes the very best out of the few moments where his mouth feels like fire on your sensitive pussy. 

"Baby…" you sigh. You love it so much when he plays with temperature. There was this one time where he licked an ice cube before sucking on your nipples. The way you shivered because of it is still haunting you. Another time he used hot wax to cover your entire body. He was so rough that night. You still have weak knees because of it. And now this. Mouth hot and oh so wet because of the cocoa. Fuck, Jungkook feels like fucking heaven.

He moans softly and lifts his mouth again, caressing your thighs when this makes you squirm desperately. He knows that he edged you, but he had to stop. His mouth wasn’t hot enough anymore.

"That's so good", he croaks, taking a sip of the cocoa. The mug is empty and so he discards it on the coffee table before finally swallowing the liquid and lowering his skilled mouth to your pussy, "is good", he lulls, guiding his tongue through your folds until he reaches your clit, “so good...”

"Keep going…"

Jungkook places his strong hands on your hips, moaning around your clit in a sweet promise that he won’t ever stop. His cock aches for release and his nipples still feel on fire, but that doesn’t stop him from giving you his all. You always make him feel so fucking good for no apparent reason and he wants to give back. You deserve to feel as best as you can because of how giddy you make him feel. 

He comes up for air, making up for the loss of sensations by rubbing your clit with two of his fingers. He places kisses on your inner thighs, eyes closed in bliss.

You writhe because of the change in sensation, “good boy, my good boy”, you sigh.

Jungkook kisses his way back to your pussy. He keeps his fingers on your entrance, massaging it in circular motions and with just enough pressure to make you feel electric. And while he does that, he connects his tongue with your clit, licking her in upwards motions.

“Kookie baby”, you croak, lifting your head to look down at him. Your eyes are droopy and half-lidded, your lips are parted in shaky moans. His eyes are closed, giving his pretty face such a tranquil look to it.

Seeing how pretty he looks when he is between your legs, makes the sensations he gives you a hundred times more intense. You reach down, running your fingers through his incredibly soft hair. He whimpers because of it, pressing himself closer. His fingers slip inside to his very first knuckle, giving you such a nice stretch.

“Kookie”, you moan happily, tugging on his hair as gently as possible. He opens his eyes, flustering in a squirm when he realises that you are looking at him.

"You're doing such a good job", you lull, giving him a drunken smile.

Jungkook mewls and sucks on your clit before lifting his head, “you taste so good”, he says with his lips all puffy and wet.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile, running your hand down to his cheek, “you’re so cute”, you whisper, tilting his head up just enough that you can trace his lips.

Jungkook chases your thumb, sucking on its tip before you pull away again. He mewls, making you smile because of how cute he is.

“My hubby”, you breathe, taking his chin between two of your fingers, “you’re so pretty, like seriously.”

"___", he croaks, "you literally own me. No fucking joke. You own me", he adds, making you smile.

"Come here", you order. 

Jungkook lifts himself. He begins moving his fingers on your pussy again and straightens up until he is face to face with you. 

"Closer."

Jungkook obeys. 

You purr, placing your hand around his throat. 

"Mistress“, he whimpers, gulping heavily and fingers stuttering on your clit. 

"Say it again", you order in a rasp.

"Mistress", he mewls.

"Nono. The thing before that."

"You fucking own me", he croaks and gulps when that makes you smirk.

"Yeah I do", you rasp, "fuck baby, keep doing that. Love how you touch me."

"I wanna fucking cum", he whines, "this is so hot." 

“Yeah? You love touching my pussy, don’t you?”

“Yeah love making you feel good”, he mewls, eyelids fluttering in bliss when you press down on his veins as a little reward, “Mistress” he moans breathily, “ugn god”, he gets out, gulping under your harsh grip and tilting his head back just enough that you can see more of his throat.

“Kookie your fingers. Keep them moving.”

“Sorry”, he lulls, fixing his faltering rhythm, “sorry ‘s so hard. Feels so good.”

“I know baby, but it’s not that hard. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good in return, yeah?”

Jungkook nods his head and whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, “Mistress”, he gets out. He draws circles on your clit, adding soft massages back and forth every now and then. He parts your folds as he does, massaging your entrance before returning to your clit again.

“There you go. That’s my boy”, you praise him, running your hand up his tummy and chest, “such a good boy, keep going”, you add in a sweet moan, placing your fingers on his left nipple.

“That’s unfair, please don’t do that”, he whines, looking at you with glassy eyes, “please don’t do that”, he whispers.

“Why not? You make me feel good, so I do it to you too”, you taunt, pinching and rolling his terribly sensitive nipple.

“Wan’…cum”, he breathes, arching his back, “plea…”

“And how’s that my problem?”

“Please. Is really, really hard”, he lulls.

You sneak a glance at his cock. Tip all heated and wet and veins throbbing in desperation. You feel your pussy clench because of it. His touch feels like paradise because of it, sending constant bolts of warmth through your body.

“I can see that”, you tease, placing your foot on his cock to rub it, “you’re so hard, baby.”

“Please Mistress”, he begs.

You grind your foot into his cockhead, eliciting a squeaky moan from him. He flinches with his entire body, hips chasing the pressure shakily.

“Cute”, you giggle, “you’re so cute”, you say, running your foot down his shaft.

“I’m begging you”, he croaks, spilling tears onto your hand still around his throat. They hit your skin in two droplets of warmth, leaving behind a cool shiver.

“Don’t cry babyboy”, you coo, “come sit on the couch, lemme take care of you.”

Jungkook does so with wobbly knees, pulling his legs up on the couch to cross them. He makes grabby hands at you, pouting oh so sadly. You climb atop his crossed legs, laughing when Jungkook tugs you closer roughly the second you were on top of him. His hands grab your butt, his glassy eyes race over your face.

“I’m dizzy”, he keens, “it’s your fault.”

You grab his cheeks between your fingers and move in closer, “good”, you whisper, kissing him afterwards.

Jungkook moans, wrapping his arms around your waist to press you closer. You chase him with a smooth roll of your hips. Your tummy presses against his', your pussy grinds against his cock.

“Fuck”, he whimpers into the kiss, deepening his hug to the point where you wonder if he wanted to crush you. He dances his hands up and down your sides as he cradles you, sending the nicest shivers down your spine. His skin is heated, melting right against yours.

Your clit is so sensitive. Grinding against his cock is making you want to crumble into a million pieces. You lift yourself a little more so you can grind your entrance against him too.

“Please”, he begs, right hand dancing over your butt just to disappear between your legs. He presses his fingers against your wetness to massage you slowly, brushing against his frenulum as he does.

“Please what?” you ask him with your voice shaking just slightly.

“Sink down please.”

“Like that?” you ask him, sinking down just enough that his tip breaches you. You lift yourself again afterwards. "Like that, mhm?",

“No. More”, he whines, “please.”

“You’re so cute”, you giggle, lowering yourself again.

Jungkook moves, pushing his cock into you with his fingers wrapped around it and his thumb pressed against your hole. He makes you shiver and twist his hair at the back of his head.

“Shit. Kook”, you get out.

Jungkook tilts his head back, lips brushing against yours and eyes opening slowly. They stay half-lidded, racing between your hazy ones. Then he smiles. Completely and utterly droopy, but filled with so much adoration.

You retort it, abandoning his hair to instead cup his heated cheeks. He moves your hips, thumb rolling slow circles on your hole as he does. 

“Baby”, you moan, “holy fuck, my baby”, you croak, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

Jungkook kisses you back, wrapping his arms around your upper back in synch with you finally bottoming out. Like this his pierced nipples are rubbing against your chest and his tummy grinds on your clit with each movement.

“Baby”, the kiss breaks because you needed to gasp, “holy fuck, Kook.”

“Yeah”, he rasps, placing his hand at the back of your head as he tightens his hug, “please don’t stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop”, you say, rocking your hips on him in a slow rhythm. You twist his hair again, “now fucking kiss me like you mean it.”

Jungkook kisses you deeply, moaning against your lips as your tongues dance with each other and your bodies connect in slow movements. He has no idea how he is still able to hold back. His cock feels like its on the most amazing fire ever. His nipples are pulsating in sensitivity, grinding against you over and over again. All he can think about is letting go and filling you up. And still he hasn’t yet. He seriously has no idea how he is doing that. It feels so good to be with you. To have you sit in his lap and rock your hips on him as you kiss him. Jungkook whimpers, cradling you against his body. You are so warm and soft. He wants to merge with you. You are so warm and soft.

“Oh god”, he lets out and sobs softly, “my darling”, he whimpers, cupping your cheek with his left hand while his right hand feels up your side as he hugs you oh so tightly.

“I know darling, I know. I feel it too”, you sigh, “your cock’s so perfect. ‘s making me feel so good.”

Jungkook sobs, pulling your forehead against yours.

“Don’t cry”, you whisper, wiping his tears away.

“I love you”, he croaks and squeaks, “oh god I, I love y-you”, he stutters, thrusting into you as best as the position allows him too.

Warmth fills you up and drips out of you instantly.

“Are you-“

“Yeah”, he interrupts you, shaking under you, “oh god, oh god, oh god. ___”, he sobs and begins chanting your name, squeezing you against him as he fills you up with his high. He is shaking so much and tensing his stomach, rubbing your clit right against it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head against him. He is holding you, hugging you, cradling you. While his cock is filling you up. Holy fuck this is too good.

“Kookie, you’re making me cum”, you whimper, crumbling into a million pieces afterwards. You meet him in sloppy bounces on his cock, chasing the friction his tummy gives you and riding on the fiery pleasure of his cock.

Jungkook holds you through your shakes, feeling dizzy in happiness. This is his heaven. He is in paradise. Your pussy is so warm and tight, now filled with his cum. Jungkook swears that he doesn’t know a better sensation than this right now.

You come down with a shudder, dropping against him in a huff of air. Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck instantly, sucking the gentlest of hickeys to your skin. It tingles so nicely, making you feel so good as you float on your afterglow.

You don’t slip off, keeping him inside just to keep that deep warmth going for longer. Jungkook loves that you do. He feels so goddamn complete when he is with you like that.

“How was that?” he asks you.

“Like heaven?” you say and giggle, making him giggle too, “for you?”

“Same”, he giggles, giving your waist a little squeeze, “I’m so dizzy now.”

“Yeah same”, you squeeze him, “and a little cold.”

“Wanna share a blanky?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s share a blanket”, you agree, reaching to your side to grab the blanket which very convinietly lies right there.

You throw it over your shoulder and with Jungkook’s help tug it behind his back so the two of you are all cocooned in. You lean into his chest with a content sigh, closing your eyes when he places a loving kiss on the tip of your nose.

“This was amazing”, he says.

“Yeah”, you agree, rubbing the tip of your nose against his cheek, “you smell so good”, you whisper.

“You too, baby”, he says.

Bang!

You and Jungkook scream up at the sudden loud bang against your window. And scream up again when a distorted figure presses its head against the glass. Jimin. His features may be hidden in darkness and foggy glass, but it’s him. You’d recognize him anywhere.

“Are you guys finally done?” he screams, nose squished against the window, “hellooo can you hear me?” he coos loudly.

“What the hell? Did he watch us fuck?” you mumble, snuggling closer to Jungkook to hide away. Not that you feel any kind of shame in being naked in front of Jimin. That man once waxed your butthole when you wanted to try it out (you hated it. It hurt like hell).

“What are you doing, man?” Jungkook calls out, still clutching you safely to your chest from getting scared before.

“Come outside you two lovebirds. The polar lights are out!” Jimin tells you, knocking on the glass again, “helloo???”

“Oh my god the polar lights”, you gasp, looking at Jungkook.

His eyes are widened in surprise, “we gotta go outside, darling”, he says.

“Yes, oh my god I can’t believe this is happening”, you squeal and hit his chest softly, “we’re coming Jimin! Wait for us!”

“Oh heard me? Nice”, Jimin’s grin is distorted by the glass, “get dressed, we’re waiting for you!”

[sgiandubh]

Keepers of the Quaich

This time, we're going to look at things a bit differently and this could very well be my most speculative post ever. So be it: it is a risk I am taking and warning you about from the get go.

The only thing Mordor understood about the next October 4 event organized by the US Chapter of The Keepers of the Quaich is something that probably gave them collective relief: S is not going to be with C on her birthday. Not together. Not on the same continent. Shut up, shippers, you are stupid.

As usually, Mordor takes things at a very primitive face value, without bothering for context. But they always focused on the lewd side of the story, not on its deep ramifications, of which there are many. Anything that denies S's halfwit manwhore image upsets them greatly.

The Scottish society of The Keepers of the Quaich is not one of those old, steeped in tradition clubs, but it is damn selective. It only dates back to 1988, which is almost five minutes ago, for Europe (and especially the UK) and is deeply rooted in Highlands' lore, celebrating excellence in whisky trade and promotion worldwide. General facts about it have already been discussed elsewhere, but with a bias and little to no context. Also, really LOL at Mordor's idiocy to think that was a fan promotion event and go ballistic for the members-only and by invitation access to it.

Membership is by co-opting and with a five-year proven performance history only (ten years, if you step up to Master level). You need not one, but two recommendations, which makes it harder to join than a Masonic lodge or the Rotary Club (and I know what I am saying, heh). That S could actively seek to be inducted, rather sooner than later, is pretty much clear, as he could use the network it readily provides, along with the prestige:

(Sourced at: https://www.diffordsguide.com/encyclopedia/341/people/keepers-of-the-quaich)

I first had a look at the list of its International Chapters and it is interesting to notice Muslim countries as Turkey or the Emirates each having their own chapter, which clearly tells me it's all about luxury and more specifically, luxury hospitality business, in that case. If inducted after the customary five years' wait, S could also make good use of the German chapter's (a market that proved to be very problematic for him) network, along with the Nordics and Netherlands, if he would think about cleverly expanding his trade in the EU. Last but not least, I would keep an eye on Brazil and India (along with the more predictable South Africa and Australia), because he already has a solid fanbase in the first one and well, Asia is always interesting, when it comes to alcohol business.

I did not really bother with the list of the Patrons, which spells a good and prestigious sliver of Debrett's Peerage's Scottish section. But I also looked at the list of the Management Committee, who does all the hands-on dealings and is directly responsible for the induction ceremony of new members. Aside from representatives of Diageo and Pernod Ricard (giants of the alcohol business world), a familiar name popped right at the bottom of the page:

Annabel Meikle, Director of The Keepers of the Quaich and as such, directly involved in the management of its activities (and probably also in all the underground shenanigans leading to the induction of new members, too). A great contact to have in your rolodex, judging by her public CV on LinkedIn:

Glenmorangie (also a member of the Keepers) - keep that reference under your sleeve, we are going to need it soon :).

Could she be related to...

I am leaving this without an answer, because I don't know and I will always refuse to go data mining for anything, but that sure as hell is not a common surname, as Smith or Martin!

At any rate, Mrs. Meikle is also (along with the Duke of Argyll, the current Keepers Grand Master) a member of The Scottish Committee of something very, very prestigious: The Worshipful Company of Distillers (https://www.distillers.org.uk/), based in London and founded in 1638, by Royal Charter (for “Body Politique and corporate” to govern the “Trade Arte and Mystery of Distillers of London” - how I love history, people!) granted by Charles I, a Stuart (of course). I am speculating and having visions of Livery status and Freedom of the City, followed by Knighthood for S (no bong needed, this particular narrative writes itself and believe it or not, it's not entirely without logic). And it is my strict constitutional right to be a poetic coo about it - that guy is smarter than we thought and I would curate that contact to death if I were him (but I am not, I am just a benevolent and intrigued observer, as you all know). Back to Earth from these optimistic conjectures, I will keep a tab on it, as I dutifully took note that one of their current interests is tequila:

Onwards to the US. We can have a fair idea of October 4th event just by looking at one of their few press releases on the occasion of the Chapter's launch gala, on September 25 2019, in New York (https://www.distilledspirits.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/KOTQUSA-Release-10.04.19.pdf - with quotes selected by me):

Moët Hennessy. Another reference to keep under our sleeve, for it will be soon very relevant. So yes, what has been speculated by Miss Marple is partially true: more business than aristocratic. But this is only if we do not consider as American aristocratic the venue of the next event. The Metropolitan Club is a very East Coast, WASP old money and (well, technically yes) Republican (but not MAGA Republican and this, to me, is very important for some reason) organization:

That was the state of play on Friday, folks, and I was already excited to share my optimistic findings with you. And then, C went to Paris and more dots started to speculatively connect. Bare with me for this long passegiata, I think it's worth it.

It was particularly important that C would be seen in a very friendly-casual pose with Delphine Arnault, out of all the other people attending that event. Not because Arnault is currently the big boss of Dior and Loewe (as I already explained here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729801825900953600/city-of-lights?source=share). And not only because C suddenly seems very interested to renew and expand her fashion days' old network. But also, because, as I already said, Delphine Arnault is also the daughter of her father and in France, business and family are always closely entwined. Always.

The French luxury market is roughly split between two behemoth players: Bernard Arnault (LVMH Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A) and Antoine Pinault (Kering, ex- Pinault-Printemps- Redoute). These people and their businesses are number 1 and 2, respectively, on the global market. And out of these two, the only one very interested in the alcohol business is Arnault (Pinault does not deal in this sector).

So I took a look at his very diverse alcohol and spirits brand portfolio (25 references - https://www.lvmh.com/houses/wines-spirits/): rhum, brandy, champagne, tequila, wines (Argentina and even China). Two Scottish whisky brands: first Ardberg (the graceful peat from Islay). And - oh, hello, Mrs. Meikle - Glenmorangie, acquired by Arnault in 2004, after a bitter battle with Pernod Ricard (https://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/21/business/world-business-briefing-europe-france-scotch-maker-acquired.html):

Back at Mrs. Meikle's CV - hers was a pivotal role in the post-acquisition reshuffle, as part of LVMH:

Coincidence? I think not.

And then also a bourbon reference. Woodinville (based in the state of Washington, USA) with a pitch that made me grin again like the Cheshire Cat:

Sounds familiar? Rings a bell? See a pattern? You should: no, it's not S in disguise, but it could be SS in a couple of years, if S decided to sell it for a hefty profit.

But I was also interested in what is missing from this catalogue.

NO GIN.

Who knows? Maybe these French people could be enticed? In that case (and remember: I am SPECULATING), it would have to be a brand with a proven track record. You see, Arnault is famous for always buying only brands with a proven history and proven recognition (Tasting Alliance, anyone? LOL). Up until now and as is, FMN is just a pet project and a virtual endeavor. Nothing more and we shall see. But that little wild Scottish gin which could win hearts and already an award in Frisco is something completely different.

Now, then. You connect the dots. You draw your own conclusions. I see something very intriguing here and, as I already told you, the business underground situation is completely different from the bland façade.

You see, this is not about papers or checking a pulse or awkwardly grabbing a fist on some stairs. This is show me the money time. This is all about finding unexpected connections, at a very high level and on a very narrow niche.

So you think S and C can't stand each other anymore?

Humbug. They have each other's back from Day 1. And more. Ship on, ladies. Whatever clownery these days might bring, I know what I know. And by now, you should start asking yourselves the real questions, not if Waldo is with Carmen Sandiego (we KNOW), nor if they were online at the same time or not. I mean, that's cute: but to be honest, I think we're past that... uh... waypoint?

Next on my list is that Lallybroch trademark thing. This is the most complex one and I will take my time. I may speculate, but never without a logical base. And I always take these things very seriously.

Keepers of the Quaich, indeed. :)

[hh0320]

໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

pair. solo singer! felix x fem! reader (+ mentions of hyunjin)

genre. set in the 90’s, childhood friends to strangers, moving back, struggle with fame, angst, romance, smut.

warnings. profanity, smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, use of pet names, flawed characters, harsh language at times, dark themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, mental health issues.

word count. 6.2k

a/n. hi my loves! this is going to be a mini series, though i’m still not sure how many parts it will contain. nevertheless, pls treat this idea kindly, and don’t judge its characters too hard, they’ve gone through a lot. feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated and will be replied to! enjoy xx

‘Felix will be going back to Australia for a much needed break, sources close to him reveal. The twenty-three year old alt rock singer just concluded his second world tour, Doll, earlier this week in Los Angeles, with news of his breakup with supermodel Hwang Hyunjin coming out at the same time.

The two had been dating since the Aussie’s rise to fame in 1994.’

New South Wales had remained the same, despite the unshakeable change in Felix’s chest. Barina Road had the same houses standing, fifty-year-old trees stretching, widening into the sky, hiding his parent’s garage from view, the stairs leading up to the front door. He’d paid off the mortgage, bought them a new car.

The sun was beaming, February in full display. His manager greeted his mom, and introduced his assistant, explaining they would be staying at a hotel not too far from there. His father had a beard now, his sister looked taller, and wore glasses.

Your house was around the corner. He could see the rose bushes along the hill, the white shutters with the black outlines. Felix could close his eyes and go back to your room, 1992, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, The Cure and The Smiths’ posters on pastel pink walls, lace trimming on your sheets, makeshift forts and flashlights at midnight, notebooks with hearts drawn on folded ends, his name and yours written next to each other, hand over hand. ‘Girl Afraid’ playing softly through a cassette in a beat down radio. Your dad’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the determination that rushed through Felix’s veins the moment he tasted them, the promise he’d made to himself to make those same cookies for you one day, to learn how.

He never did. His demo got picked up from a record label that would later refer him to the one he belongs to now, and he had to fly out to Melbourne right before your eighteenth birthday. From then on it’s been a shooting star.

He blinks to find his mother teary eyed, arms open. He doesn’t walk—he runs. Washed out silvery blonde locks long enough to be pulled in a ponytail, brown eyes the color of wild thyme honey, hands tired, heart broken. A boy coming home is a very old story, one that will never stop being written. And even though it feels strange to be back after five years of palm trees, everything and nothing—Hollywood, with its golden gates and trophies and nightmare people— it is exactly what he needed. It’s where he has to be.

“You look so tired, baby, so frail,” his mom sobs, pressing her mouth on his temple. “Did no one take care of you? Did no one care?”

Felix didn’t answer. He brought chocolates and clothes for his sisters, jewelry for his mother, Cuban cigars for his father, and his first ever Grammy for you, because none of this would’ve been possible if you hadn’t befriended him all those years ago in the playground. If your voice hadn’t guided him away from those swings and into the forest. If he hadn’t played hide and seek with the girl that wore ribbons in her hair, dark cherries for eyes. And what does he say knowing this?

I left behind the one person that did. That mattered that it did. And when I found something similar, I couldn’t hold it in my hands, I couldn’t get close to it no matter how much I tried.

“I missed you, mom,” he mumbles instead, and grinds his teeth to keep from crying. “I should’ve called more. I should’ve visited.”

The shorter woman sniffles and rubs her son’s back soothingly, shushing him only a mother knows how to. He breathes in her familiar scent, her cooking imprinted on her purple shirt, and smiles sadly. Hyunjin would’ve loved her; he wanted to meet her the most, wanted to hear all the stories when they were in bed together, what few times they were both sober, capable of adventure and conversation till the early hours of the next day. “I never had a mom,” he’d tell him, brown strands of hair escaping his staple bun. “Cherish your mom for me, Yongbokie. Love her terribly.”

“Come inside,” she tells him, waving away the rest. “Stay forever if you need to.”

“It means happiness,” he’d explained on that first meeting with the boy shining more brightly than the chandelier lighting the entire theater. “Yongbok.”

The boy had smiled and it’d made all the difference. His lips reminded Felix of black cherries, of the girl in the room with the window overlooking the trees. “I know what it means. It’s about time I met you.”

Time away from chaos felt empty. The hours passed by slowly, serenity made him paranoid, like it couldn’t possibly last, even there, in a different continent, across the globe. Getting on an airplane didn’t guarantee you’d get away, he realized soon enough. It wasn’t possible, because you can’t outrun yourself.

And it was that Felix was trying to escape. How known he’d become, how aware of his own shadow he was. At first, he’d thought of it as a mountain to climb, something to be achieved, and then something else. It was a ladder leading up, up, up and nowhere specific, but he climbed it anyway. The little prize in his hands was the ultimate show, that one last thing he had to do that would grant him access to more of the same everything and nothing everyone else seemed to be so desperately after. After he’d won it, the decision to leave it all behind became clearer than ever.

A lot of the people he admired had died. And it didn’t matter which way you looked, destruction came in the form of white powder, accompanied by a spoon or a syringe if you were brave enough and had much to lose. “Take your pick, there’s many ways to kill yourself,” a girl had told him once at an afterparty. Young and impressionable as he was he chose by what he saw and picked up the bottle of champagne in front of him. The least harmful, he’d thought. But the sneakiest one of all. And then he saw Hyunjin smoking cigarettes after one of his fashion shows, and thought to try that too. Then it felt like something they could share, so Felix kept smoking until the cough subsided and his fingers smelled of tobacco. 

One thing the model never tried to do was shield him from the horrible ways of the industry, and the blonde still can’t find it in himself to castrate him for it. Now, so many thousands of miles away as he was, the habits seemed to follow, like supportive friends. The world is a fucked up place, but it doesn’t seem so bad from where he sits on the rooftop of his childhood house. He could drop the stick from his hand, or break the golden trophy and even deny the existence of evil altogether.

How easy, how vulnerable fame is. You could be no one in particular if you made all the right choices. Felix wasn’t sure why he seemed to do the opposite, walk the other way, the reason for his selective blindness. When something shiny has your name on it you hold it close to your chest and sing to it. It’s precious because it reflects light off it.

Until when?

Your light was on. 

He looked for it, looked for a car coming up the hill, watched the sun set, the blending of colors, how majestic it can all get before it fades to black, but you showed up right in the blue of it. You still drove the same Jeep your dad had gifted you for graduation, but your hair was longer, you’d grown a bit. Felix saw how your white dress danced in the summer breeze, ran his eyes down your tanned legs as you walked from your driveway inside your house, and finally, about ten minutes after that, the light through your curtains.

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

He smiles down at his burning cigarette. How would he ever face you with the way he left? He never called, only wrote to you on your birthday, and released a song about a starry girl that visited his dreams, knowing very well that girl waited for him for years to return, even if just for a little while. The guilt of never doing so, and instead loving someone else so all consumingly, while that same song went on to become his best selling single, the song he’d be known for for years to come? It crippled him.

He never wanted to see your face stare back at him. He would rather die, and he admits this to himself bravely. You were his first girl, his only girl. No one would ever come close to you, because you’re clean—you have his innocence, his first time, before he knew anything about anything, and how despite it, he loved you stupidly, earnestly, because it made sense, because it felt right.

“Starry girl, will you burn bright, for me tonight? Oh, will you stay a little while, darling girl…”

How hypocritical. If Chan was around he’d be calling him out, or pushing him down the fucking roof. Felix wouldn’t even mention the broken leg or the dislocated shoulder, because it’d serve him right. Perhaps he needs a solid reminder of his aliveness, of how doing wrong by someone and paying for it feels like. La La Land doesn’t have that, it couldn’t possibly understand that. There, people look up and never down. There, they would push, and keep pushing; they would climb over, step on your neck, tear you apart at the seams for a chance to just keep.looking.up. That climb is all there is.

It’s empty too, but you learn how to miss it.

Felix thinks he might’ve sold his fucking soul, somehow, because as he gets back in the house, his mind won’t stop screaming for him to run away from there as well.

Not a place that could hold someone that’s had everything and then more of it.

Chan hates his guts twice as much as you possibly ever could, but Felix calls him anyway.

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

A long pause. The singer falters, thinks he’s made a mistake, curses himself for ever thinking anyone would want anything to do with him after—

“You’re a fucking cunt, Felix, and I hope you burn in Hell. Sincerely.” The blonde nods, his chest tight, his throat dry. “How are you?”

He smiles. “Terrible. Fucking awful, mate, thanks for asking.”

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Your white dress flows in his dreams. It folds and stretches like the wings of a butterfly. The pages of his journal stare at him, his eyes heavy with sleep, but for once nothing pours out. He thinks he’s meant to keep that to himself, and perhaps that’s okay.

Instead he writes about a broken boy that smiles for the cameras but never for his love.

His older sister works as an intern for a law firm. He didn’t know that, because he never asked. The sting of it burns all the same.

She has a fiance, is preparing to buy a house, and tells him of his mom’s sickness at a private restaurant. He didn’t know that either, but in all fairness, as his sister pointed out, no one is supposed to know. At least not yet. It’s treatable, she quickly adds, but it’s been eating her from the inside out for a couple years now. She tells him this with a straight face, probably because she’s had time to sit with it, but also because Rachel is great at keeping her feelings in check, when she knows someone else isn’t—Felix definitely fucking isn’t.

What was the saying? The artist is haunted by his own heart? Day and night. There’s never an escape, it seems, from anything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he pleads after he calms down. “Money is not a problem.”

The older sibling grimaces at that. “It’s not about that, Lix. She has medication, she never misses a doctor’s appointment. Her body is weak.”

“She’s not dying.”

“It’s not something we can exactly stop because we want to.”

Felix clenches his fists on the table, and looks at his sister straight on. “She’s not dying.”

Rachel wipes her mouth and sips from her wine, alerting the waiter for the check. People are starting to stare. No matter where they go, eyes follow her little brother incessantly, whichever measures they take. It’s a lifestyle she cannot comprehend.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice, or care. It’s a strange thing, like a zoo animal being at peace with its captivity, despite its true nature.

“Maybe not now,” she replies softly. “But we all must face this one impending doom sooner or later, Lix. Even you. Even our mom. Death is a natural thing.”

Most people run from the inevitable, because it’s scary. Somehow, it’s believed that the end, too, could be overturned if we stall it, or cheat it. Felix never thought he’d have to worry about it, because of the invisibility of youth, and money, and having everything else at his beck and call. It was only when Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley died that he was touched by the cruelty of it, the dark shadows and the claws attacking through them any moving thing, at any given time. Even legends passed, even history.

It was because life was so impossibly fleeting, water held with two hands, that he decided to knock on your door. In a single moment of liquid luck, he wished to see the stars in your ceiling again. To feel the warmth of your skin near his. Chan would shake his head and call him an idiot for it, but Felix never claimed to be reasonable. Or smart.

No other car was in your driveway.

God, his blood is rushing. You’d open the door and then what? What would he say?

He didn’t want his mom to die. He didn’t want you to hate him forever. He came back with a false sense of ego—no one gave a flying fuck if he was famous, or best friends with Hope Sandoval and Chris Cornell, hell, even Jesus Christ himself. None of it mattered outside of the bubble he’d created for himself in America. He’s not from there. These people would follow him nowhere.

He feels stranded and alone, and it’s entitled and pathetic, and he’s fucking terrified.

Who is he besides his name and his money? Why does it matter so much?

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

Another moment passes. He has to say something. Goddamnit, anything!

“(Y/N).”

You seem to snap out of it, then. As if you realize it’s, indeed, not a dream. Felix is really standing right in front of you, blonde hair, round honey eyes, constellations on his cheeks as prominent as ever.

It’s confusion you feel more than anything else. Anger has long passed.

“How long have you been here?” is the first thing you ask him, and you’re still not allowing him inside.

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

You blink again, and lean forward, surprised. He thinks that must not be what you asked him. His ears burn. Your chest rises and falls deeply.

“In Australia, Lix,” you elaborate, but he focuses on the way your voice sounds like saying his childhood nickname, a silly little thing that stuck and makes him feel eight all over again.

You’d fallen in the rose bushes with your bike, the thorns pricking your arms, and you’d called out for him, crying. Lix, Lix, Lix… The sweetest sound, a person worthy to help you. A different time. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon picking thorns out of your skin and tending to your cuts with his mom. Afterwards, you watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and ate a bowl full of caramel popcorn. His dad dropped you off, and Felix had insisted on sticking his head out of his bedroom window to shout a final goodnight to you.

You’d done the same, laughing. His bestest friend in the whole world.

He didn’t feel like that person anymore. He didn’t feel like anything anymore. Just a name, just a body.

“Fourteen days,” he replies, and he’s ashamed of it, because it should’ve been easier to come to you. It should’ve never been difficult, not with you. 

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

And then you ask him the one thing he has no answer to.

“Are you okay?”

You move for him to enter. It’s what he wanted, but his legs have no strength in them, he’s unable to lift them. He just stands in front of you, staring in those eyes he’s wanted to look into for so long, and it reminds him of all the times he laid in hotel beds trying to bring forward his memories of your features, writing them all down so he doesn’t forget. He wrote those songs to remember you, is what he wants to tell you, but he can’t, because it’d make him a coward, and he doesn’t think he can handle anymore truths tonight.

They call him an angel because of his face, but you’re the angelic one, you’ve always been, because there’s forgiveness in your tone. There’s warmth for him in you still, and it takes everything in him not to sweep you in his arms and cry out for you, for your heart.

He wants to tell you about Hyunjin, too, about his garden and his flowers. He wants to tell you he named one after you, the most beautiful. He kept that for himself as well.

Instead—

“I wanted to watch the stars on your ceiling.”

The possibility that you might’ve taken them down is devastating. He hopes inevitably.

His voice sounds rough, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. You’ve never seen Felix like that, he looked so sickly. Paper thin, too. You wonder if that life over there caught up to him, if he allowed it to wash over everything you loved about him. He’s such a stripped down, quiet version of him right now, in front of you.

“I’ll make some milkshakes,” you nod towards the kitchen.

He finally lifts one leg, then the other. He enters, his heart dusting off, kickstarting.

They still taste the same. The furniture is the same, the pictures of him and you and your siblings are still on the wall. You haven’t erased him, you didn’t scorn him. It means everything to him.

It’s easier to find yourself if someone already knows who you are. If they’ve kept that image of you, and look at it from time to time. Felix never sees himself in photos, never actively seeks himself out. He just gives, and gives, and gives, hoping it’s enough, hoping that’s it, the one, we got it, thank you very much.

Perhaps it’s why he feels so drained nowadays. Perhaps that’s how Hyunjin felt.

“How are your parents?” he asks, hoping to make conversation, hoping to hear more of that voice he’s missed so fucking much.

You round the kitchen island, strawberry shake in hand, and sit right next to him, knee brushing his. Your legs are bare again, smooth. You’re wearing an olive green skirt and an oversized T-shirt. You look beautiful. You, the starry girl. You, the darling girl. You, the only version of girl he’s had in his mind since the dawn of time. Ring pop in the fifth grade, backyard wedding with a veil and all. His mother had cried, yours had baked the cake. His sister had married you.

There’s a question in your eyes now.

“They’re fine. Out celebrating their thirtieth anniversary or something crazy like that.”

It’s a wild thing, the laugh that escapes him. It stretches his face and curves his lips. It surprises both of you. He quickly looks at his chocolate milkshake, at the half eaten whipped cream at the top. He hears your soft exhale, the straw between your teeth.

“Good for them,” he says after a beat, and he means it.

“You…” Felix doesn’t dare look. He won’t. Your counter is marble, there are fresh lilies on top of it. “Are you staying a while?”

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

Then you sigh. The pretenses are down. He stiffens, wraps his fingers tighter around the glass. He braces, but he doesn’t know for what. Anything, he supposes. You could say anything, ask anything.

He just doesn’t know if he has any answers for you.

“Congrats on that Grammy,” you bump him with your elbow, your tone light. His eyes rise slightly to meet yours. You’re smiling.

He wants nothing more than to fall apart, right there. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“It’s yours,” he mutters. “I was going to give it to you.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “It’s your song, Lix.”

He shakes his head once. “But it’s for you. I’d be nothing without you.”

The room goes silent. Felix thinks he’s done it, he’s said the wrong thing, pushed too much, you’re going to kick him out, once and for all, and he’s going to have to look at you from his rooftop for the rest of his stay, he’s going to have to live with himself, whatever’s left, whatever’s there, never to hear your voice, never a third chance—

“Do you usually say intense things like that?” You huff out a breath, and his own gets stuck in his throat. “I’m— No one’s ever said that to me before, Lix. Don’t just say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, six years have passed, and you’re both adults. Felix has had a whole other life, has met thousands and thousands of people, is a celebrity of great importance, a Grammy winner, a million seller, with more money than he will ever need, this unbelievable thing has happened to him, a dream, a fucking rainbow bubble, and you’ve stayed here.

You’re still the same. And you don’t think that’s worth mentioning. Worth praising. He wants to shake you awake, make you see why he’s dead inside, why he’s come back, why he’s lost his fucking mind.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “If I’d never met you, I would have never gone to America. I would’ve never left.”

Somehow, you’ve become a curse and a miracle. 

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

Your room is the exact same, too. Not a single damn thing moved, the lace on your bed, the pink all around, the fairy lights by your window, the pictures above your desk, and then finally, if he lifts his head—

The hundreds of tiny stars sprinkled on your entire ceiling. Your dad had stuck them up there for you, after you’d gone to their bed crying, afraid of the dark and the storm outside. Now, with the lights off, you didn’t seem afraid anymore, but more so melancholic. It felt unreal to stand in this room with you. 

First time he’d made love to you was on that bed. First sleepover, first fort, first kiss, first song ever written.

He didn’t even realize he’d been crying, not until he felt your fingers wipe the wetness away, your hand slipping in his, pulling him towards the mattress. Before coming back, he didn’t have a bed of his own. Hotel’s have been temporary homes for him, the tour bus his sleepovers.

His chest hurt, his sadness so heavy it pulled him down. There was no fight left in him, no other reason not to fall on that bed with you, lay next to you just like all those years before.

They shone neon green, alien little stars where they didn’t belong. Like him. He blinked up at them and they greeted him every time. He held your hand tightly on his own, his vision blurry, shoulders touching yours. If it was hot, Felix couldn’t tell. His heartbeat was deafening, the magnitude of the moment swallowing him whole.

No matter what he did, what had happened, you took his hand and showed him the stars of his childhood. There’s no words to describe what that had felt like for someone like him, someone that had once been something entirely different, and had somehow reduced himself down to this, whatever it was.

Three versions of oneself is two versions too many. He hates himself for what he’s done.

“Are you okay, Lix?” you ask once more, nothing but a mere whisper, but he hears you.

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

“I don’t think so, beautiful girl. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs, puts an arm over his eyes. It’s enough, what he saw. It’s enough for a lifetime.

“Leaving you behind. Giving all of me away. Falling in love with a broken boy thinking I’ll be able to fix him. I can’t fix anyone, (Y/N). I can’t even fix my fucking self.”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. The connection is still there, the tension in his gut. He’d love nothing more than to get you naked and have you whisper his name back, over and over, until he gets some sort of sense of reality back. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. He doesn’t even know if you’re single.

“No one’s holding anything over your head, Lix. Forgive yourself before it’s too late,” you mumble against his skin, raising goosebumps all over. Then you continue, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t still hate you sometimes. You’re going to leave again, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns to that immediately. Places a palm over your cheek and makes you look at him.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up and I’ll regret it my whole life. There’s no amount of sorry’s I can say to you, sweet girl, that’ll make it all better. I know that. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Quiet. Your pulse against his thigh. “You left.”

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

Felix nodded, again and again. One truth harsher than the other. “I know.”

“To go fuck some model in New York and sing your little heart out to people that’ll never know who you truly are and how much you matter.”

There it was. The sacrifice of it all. Has it been worth it? Yes and no. Mostly no.

His lips curved with bitterness. “Yes,” he rasped.

“But now your songs are out there. Your beautiful voice is recognized.”

“Thank you.”

You buried your face in the mattress, crying onto strawberry sheets. He turned his body towards you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“You sold your own name.”

Dying would be less painful than you speaking all of his fears and wrong decisions outloud, in the one place untouched by misery.

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

He smiles when you search for his eyes. There are crystals on your cheeks, the cosmos hanging from your lips. “Not particularly, starry girl,” he retorts sadly.

“I’m not happy, either. What’s the point, then?”

It tore at him to know this. He imagined you were when he was far away. That you’d put him behind you, and continued on with your life, shining just as brightly as you always had. Lies are always easier in the moment. Just enough to get you through to the next. But never long term.

“Come with me,” he whispers in your hair. “See for yourself.”

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

He shut his eyes tight, bit his tongue to lessen the blow. “Three months. I want to take you with me.”

“To the City of Angels.” A lyric of his, coming from your mouth. His heart leaped, and blossomed. You listen to his music. The music he’s written for you.

“You’ll fit right in,” he finishes, leaning into you. “You’ll find many like you, none like you.”

He felt your hesitancy, the need to pull away. He would do it for you, if he wasn’t so completely under your spell, willing to do anything for one more taste of you. Years in a place where he’s had to learn to get his way, have made him somewhat persuasive, a trait he’s not proud of, like many others.

The only girl he’s ever truly wanted is you. Burn him alive, then.

“God, I’m about to make a mistake,” you mutter before his mouth takes yours.

Hyunjin had asked about you. He wanted to know who you were, why you still had such a hold on him. Hyunjin had been possessive and jealous and sensitive with Felix. He felt deeply, loved deeply, and was very stubborn. He loved getting his way. The blonde tried to love him, gave him all he had, obliged to his every request, but ultimately—

Whatever was wrong with him ran too deep. It was impossible to love someone like him, yet so easy to fall, so easy to lose yourself. They’d done some work together, traveled to Paris and visited art museums. Hyunjin was a magnificent artist, a lonely soul. Felix could recognize that in him and still admit it was scary to be around him, scary in the way a rope feels under your bare feet, no ground underneath, no sense of security.

They broke up on a bench outside Sacré-Cœur, the decision to go back to Australia for an indefinite amount of time being too much for the model. There was still love there, there’d always be. Hyunjin taught him about the life he’d entered, how to navigate through it, to get what you want, and how to love unconditionally, how to become a slave for love, to seek it and to breathe it, and to feel it deep in your gut, with everything in you.

But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t be all encompassing, choking, tying. It should feel like freedom, and this much Felix knew, because he’d felt it before.

Undressing you right now felt like that, the pearly gates welcoming him, the wings growing in his back. A map outlined but not quite yet explored, though he plans to change that. If you accept. If you agree to his proposal. His hands caress, his mouth following the fabric leaving your body, your breast, down to your stomach, your navel, your hip bone. 

He pulls your skirt down, revealing cotton, and lays you gently back down, his own body over yours, hiding you from view. Your fingers unzip and push, and Felix removes his shirt for you. He knows he’s not much to look at, but there’s lean muscle and a solid chest where you touch, making heat bloom right under your fingertips. He could write odes about how soft your skin is, how tender you’re treating him, as if he never left, as if he’s never done wrong by you, and for a minute he pretends.

Then your hand wraps around his cock and he loses all restrain.

“You can’t possibly be real, my girl, are you?” he mumbles against your cunt, before he hooks his arms underneath your legs and digs right into your wetness.

You moan and writhe, and he never complies. He holds you tighter, keeps you in place and has his way with you until you’re begging him to stop, crying for him to keep going, nails digging into his scalp, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. Felix hasn’t eaten pussy in six months, hasn’t had yours in over five years, and he’s not about to give it up for anything in the fucking world. 

His tongue laps, it fucks you slowly, it makes sure to get you proper wet for him, his lips slurping on your clit afterwards, finding a pattern you seem to enjoy, sucking to bring your orgasm forward and licking to settle you down, to tease you, until finally you have enough of it, and you come all over his mouth, breathlessly, your thighs trapping his head between your legs.

“Just for me, for me, for me…” he repeats peppering kisses all over you, his arms pushing him up towards your mouth, meeting you halfway for an open mouthed kiss. “Will you come?” he asks, pumping his cock in his fist, aligning it with your entrance. “My sweet fucking girl, will you come?”

“I have,” you say, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I did.”

“Let me look at you,” as he pushes in. “Let me see you, baby.”

His hips start moving, his cock reaching deep inside you, the stretch incredible. He needs you near, closer, so he lifts you up and repositions himself, having you sit on him, fucking yourself on him how you like. You find a rhythm as he wraps himself around you, kissing your breast, sucking on your nipples, tugging at the ends of your hair. Anything he can touch, all for you. Your voice breaks, his name cut in half, and he thinks he likes it best like that, not one thing but two, muttered by you, the death of him once and for all.

“Will you come with me to California?” he asks again, clearer this time. “Will you let me have you like this under their sun?”

“Lix…” you collapse as he takes charge, pistoling up into your soaking cunt, his cock so deep inside, so fucking good. “Fuck, please. Just please.”

“You need to tell me,” he groans. “I need to know. You need to tell me.”

He pushes you forward again, not once unsticking you from himself, and fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. He’s after your high, he needs to see you, needs to witness you fall apart because of him, the same way he does for you, his muse, his girl, under your stars. You kiss him and hold him near, sharing his breath, his chest rapidly falling and rising, cock ready to burst, heart ready to explode, and you’re near too, he can feel it in his gut, he can see how your back arches, how your breath hitches, how your eyes open wide, head thrown back—

“That’s it, there it is, do it. Do it, beautiful, come for me, come on, let me feel you, God, fuck—I’ll bust, too, I’ll—”

“Inside,” you moan, shaking in his arms. “Inside me.”

Felix growls and does as you say, fingers digging into your waist, cock buried, and his head falls on your stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack, but nothing matters. You’re underneath him, naked. You still love him. You haven’t said it but you don’t have to; he can feel it, he can feel it like his own pulse.

He fucks you through the ripples of your orgasm, and then he pulls out, kissing your temple, your breast on his chest. Whatever dreams are made out of, he’s convinced you’re it. His dream, a girl just for him, a girl he could pick out blindfolded from a crowd of thousands. He would always come back to you, because there’s simply no beginning to him if you’re not part of it.

And no end if you don’t come with him.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me no,” he whispers into the dark, the stars staring back. “I’ll understand. I’ll make it work, there’s no question about it. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but your lips kiss his jaw, his neck, his ear. He holds onto sanity because of that. Because he’s lying through his teeth, for the first time. He won’t understand. If you don’t come, he’s not sure he’ll be able to carry on with this persona he’s built. It will destroy him, take him down under.

That he’s sure of.

But he thinks of your precious heart. What it would be like to leave it all behind.

“I’ll come,” you say incredibly small, almost inaudible. “I’ll come if you want me there.”

Felix closes his eyes, relief washing over him. No more suffering, endless tossing and turning. He could finally have a life, maybe buy some property, make a house out of you. With you. With you. It sounded unachievable. A wish unable to be granted. Merely anything.

You’re breathing it all back to him.

“I need you there, starry girl. I love you.”

He feels you nod, but you don’t say it back. It cuts through him, but he understands. He doesn’t need to hear it, despite how desperate he is for it. It pours out of you, it started when you opened the door, and it continues to pour out now, with his cum gushing out of your cunt, your arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.

“Three months,” you say. “Please don’t make me regret it, Lix.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25.

[killersansofficial]

ABOUT ME!!

Hello! To start this off, I am a very chaotic, loud person who loves people, drawing, and mischief! I like to make fanart and draw stuff I know will make people happy and smile, and I aim to be a kind and caring person! If I notice you are seeming sad, I will message you privately to try and cheer you up (although I’m not a very comforting person…)

I am a female and go by She/Her.

I still sleep with (1) stuffed toy…I’ve had him for 9 years and his name is Happo 😭

My birthday is 7th of October

I say ‘Nuh uh’ and ‘that’s crazy’ a lot

I care a lot about people I like, so that will lead a lot to me asking and talking to you.

I’m 14 years old (damn I’m old) and I live in Australia! 🇦🇺

My favourite food is beef, and I really like mint chocolate ice cream!

My fandoms include: Undertale/UTMV, Helluva Boss, FNaF, TADC (The Amazing Digital Circus), South Park and Wings of Fire! (There might be more but I can’t think of anymore right now lol) I’m also interested in anything to do with ghosts (such as abandoned asylums and stuff like that), I love music and singing, I have a guitar I can play one song on, and I love colouring!

I have three dogs (about to get another one), I have Fergus the pugzu, Leo the Labrador, and Teddy the toy Moodle (the dog were getting this year we will name Lulu, she will be the same dog as Teddy from different parents and our hope is to breed them)

Extras: My favourite colours are blue, purple and yellow. I have a large family of 7 members with my mum and 5 with my dad. I am weird :P I have weird taste in food (I like pineapple pizza, I love spicy food, I love liquorice, etc.) I don’t have a regard for my own personal safety (for example I will eat way too much spice my body can handle or I will jump into a lake fully clothed in the middle of winter off a small rock side (I have done both before))!

DNI if: you are a proshipper, you’re rude, hurtful or disrespectful toward me or anyone else I know, you are homophobic/transphobic, sexist, or an overall asshole

Thank you and I hope if you follow me you don’t mind a bit of chaos!

[popculturebuffet]

Pirate Month III: The Wiggles Movie (Comission by Lachey V )

Ahoy me hearties and welcome back to Pirate Month III a look at pirate media and in this case media tha thas a pirate in it.

Today we're looking at the 1997 Wiggles Movie as Lachey has a lot of weird microfixations and this being the blog it is I support that. This is what he wanted when offered a part of pirate month,. The WIggles movie is pirate adjacent, but still a lot of fun. For those who haven't heard of them the wiggles are an australian band aimed at kids formed by three men studying child devleopment who happened to be musicains and decided to make a childrens band and their musician friend who they brought along for the ride. They've gone through multiple iterations, but we're focusing on the origianl fab four. In 1997 to expand their reach after a few succesful vhs takes and albums, they launched this movie. It was a gamble as in australia three year olds get free tickets which should be a thing everywhere.. but it paid off: theatrically it made back it's budget and it waas a success on home video. It later came here direct to videos. I don't have much other than that on background.

The Wiggles movie is... to put it gently.. a tad nuts, the story of a bumbling magicain who steals lead wiggle (the yellow one) greg's magic wand from a childrens party, ends up persued by the wiggles adopted daughter/younger sister/dinosaur dorthy who they spend the movie gaslighting by refusing to acknowledge her brithday to hide a suprise party instead of just saying happy birthday and not telling her about the party.

This one's going to be a lot of fun to talk about and with not a lot of intro to cover (I felt a full dive into the wiggles neat backstory wasn't fully necessary), let's begin under the cut.

The plot is really simple but i'm not against it as just as a comedy films plot can be pretty straightfoward to cram in jokes, a film for young toddlers dosen't need to be an epic generatoinal tale of the wiggles battle against an evil wizard. I'd love to see that, but that's not what five year olds are coming to see and i'm not the target audience.

The film follows Wally, an inept magician living in the shadow of his grandpa Waldo the maginifcent. He reacently died and the local magic club is holding a contest for the winner. Wally badly wants the wand as he thinks a magician needs it when the guy running it assures him no you just need self confidence dingus. Wally is played by stage actor tony wally.

So while peddling around on his trike wallowing in his own lack of confidence, can relate, wally comes across the wiggle doing a kids party becaus eit's what they do. If you want deep lore about how greg wears yellow to honor the bananana man who gave his life to save him again this isn't the movie. I will make that movie someday I promise, but this isn't that.

The film works for what it is: while I do prefer my kids media that tries to appeal to adults theirs no shame in making stuff for young kids. I may not enjoy this because i'm 27 years past the target demo.. but I can repsect the craft, how the wiggles at the time , Anthony Field, Jeff Fatt, Murray Cook and Greg Paige, have a LOT of manic energy. Their basically human muppets ala peewee herman and I can see why kids love them. Personality wise there isn't much: Greg's the leader, Anthony is constantly hungry, Jeff has untreated narcolypsey they constantly wake him up from and Murray drives. But they really work best as one singular unit and don't really need a ton of dividing traits kids would loose track of. Their just four goofy loveable guys who sing songs what good and have a dinosaur who may also be their sister or they've been raising since she was a baby or after a burglar killed her parents.

Greg happens to be doing a magic act so Wally does the natural and noble thing: HE'LL STEAL IT AND NO ONE WILL EVE RKNOW. Naturally dorthy catches him because Wally is a bit of a klutz. And because the wiggles have been gaslighting her.

Yeahhh let's talk about the other main plot which is intertwined. Dorthy is there to see the theft because it's her birthday.. and the wiggles are acting like they forgot. Now they DO have a reason for this: their having a suprise party and she can't know!

Yeah it's never come up before in the 600+ reviews i've done on this blog but I HATE this stock plot. So much. Yes I get it, you can't let someone know your having a suprise party from them. It's in the name. But the problem I have with this plot is the part where the people throwing it either act like they FORGOT about the birthday or can't go. The latter is a bit more understandable. The comic strip heart of the city used that just this week. I shit you not

This one admitely worked better for me as it's revealed every excuse they had, going shoe shopping , getting their hair done, makeup etc, was all one of her presents. It's still not perfect, but it's about as close you can get to me liking this trope.

In contrast the wiggles movie.. has them all claim to forget her birthday entirely. The wiggles, wags the dog and his various children he adopted either out of love or for the money it's never explained, Captain Feathersword, Henry the Octopus. They all pretend to not remember... for no reason. It's why the trope sets me off so much: you can make up a fucknig excuse. YOu don't have to act either suspicious as fuck or the mayor of jackass town who forgot their friends birthday. Just agree to it for now or make up an excuse. I didn't go INTO this knowing conciously i'd have the perfect counter argument but the heart story really is: yes they lie, yes they dispaoint her but the big twist and the dramatics of it help. Heart is someone who LIKES dramatics, she probably loved this. Where as Dorthy is.... well she should be 30 by my count as jeff was 40 in 1997 and we get a child flashback where the wiggles promise to always be there for dorthy. The good news is it's actual kids playing them. The bad news is those actual kids sing hot potato

I will get back to this "song" later. But for now just know it sucks and I hate it.

Point is this is her only family we know of , her best friends.. telling her they dont' care about their birthday. Like fucking christ just ADMIT it's her birthday. It's not that hard. She ends this subplot dispoindent planning to mope at home and ONLY ends up at the party because an inept magician happens to be performing there. And yes I know what some people reading this are probablys aying "Jake it's for toddlers".. but I see this plot so fucking often in stuff not for toddlers done the same way. I once saw all of Ponyville break pinky pie's spirit because they lied to her about her suprise party. Gratned part of that was also making applejack lie as she' sa very honest person but my god. Just admit you kjnow what day it is, your going to the party they think their having, and be done with it. And againt here at least she's throwing a party and dosen't know it's her own birthday, I get there's some neurosis there working against them... but if the choices are hurt your best friend or spoil the suprise... SPOIL THE FUCKING SUPRISE.

... I.. didn't agree to reviewing the wiggles movie expecting an angry tangent about a trope in media I dislike. Shame on me for not being more prepared.

So after a child tells them all what happened Greg does want to find Dorthy so she can get to the birthday on time. The fun thing is... Greg.. isn't worried about wally. He's heard of him. Greg knows everyone in town. Greg's the man. He knows he's harmless just a bit self loathing and bumbling.

So the rest of the film is pretty much just: dorthy and wally go somewhere to try and get the wand fixed, while the wiggles go somewhere, possibly somewhere they've been to find them. That's about all you get. It does work: the wiggles parts are mostly excuses for jokes or songs, while the dorthy and wally part has him slowly gain self worth by befrending wags and captain feathersword, and foiling the rose burgalar what killed dorthy's parents.

They even dance on stage. I'd ask at this point if it was wierd I kinda ship these two as their support of ecah other is adorable as is the fact that while pissed and trying to fix gregs wand after wally done breaks it, Dorthy geninely wants to help wally an dat the end Wally wants to tell greg himself and replace it , realizing he did a bad thing. But honestly... I ship so much weird crossover stuff that this is a drop in the bucket. I ship nifty and young neil. I crossed the threshold of sanity.. also nifty and hooty would make a good couple. Just saying.

The songs... aren't bad but aren't for me. Their fun have a lot of motion and I paticuarlly love the openign song hey there wally sung as a theme song for him as he pedals along, but mostly ti's just.. okay. it's not BAD music, but music can be good and still not for you. I do like the number where they caper underwater, and the medly over the credits and honestly DID want to go over all the music in this film.. but I just don't have any thoughts on it other than "this is pleasing to he ear and oh look i'm zoning out." i do give them credit for doing a pretty much all new soundtrack for the film though, with only a few signature songs thrown in. Enough to please the kids watching but give them some new faviorites

There is one song I do want to talk about... now where were we

Ah yes. I've heard the regular hot potato, it's not bad, a lot of fun, and I can see why it's one of thier biggets hits... now have a bunch of children tonelessly sing it and you've got my own personal hell. I don't hate kids, I respect media for them and despite all the jokes do like this film.. but I don't like "kidified" music that dosen't try. The wiggles... usually does, making genuine songs that just happen to appeal to kids. It's not for me but I get why their superstars. But this is just.. gahhhh .And I point it out as besides the whole gaslighting dorthy thing, which while not great is more inherent in that stock plot than them being bad storyteller, it's the only part of the film that really infuraties me. I could overlook the birthday nonsense to enjoy the vibes, but this... why did anyone ask for this.

So before we talk about wally some more, let's talk about the wiggleds other friends. We've got the octopus who wears a sailor hat, so you know he's cool and I genuinely mean that. His segments fine and I do like the underwater bits with the wiggles. Wags has a bunch of kids the waggettes. I can't tell if this is a heartwarming adoption, a donald duck situation or a bender rodregiz scammnig child service situation but i'm going with the forth. They peform a weird song that enchants wally.

Finally ooo it's captain feathersword. His song's a lot of fun, his actor hams it up nicely and his gimmick of just tickling people and smugglign cocaine is delightful. And he at least offers Dorthy a dance to distract her and thanks wally for saving his crew member. The wiggles friends aren't bad, their fun enough it's just not really anything for me... which given i'm 8 times the target demographic is fine just fine.

Wally does get a nice little character arc: he dances on stage, stops a robbbery, and realizes what his magic coach was trying to teach him: it's what's inside that counts my friends it's not the peel it's the nana. So wally decides to enter the magic contest not to win for himself but for dorthy so he can give greg his granpaps wand.

The magic contest is genuinely hilarious: wally is up against his douchey rival, whose only real roll in the film is to show up and be a dick to wally: he shows up in the intro to mock him, drives by to mock him, does so AGAAIN in the climax as he's trying to register, and does so AGAIN in the dressing room. At this poitn i'm not convinced he dosen't pop otu of wally's closet in the middle of th enight to mock him too.

His big trick is also just.. tosisng a bucket of glitter. Which I gotta admit is impressive: avengers endgame probablyw oudlnt' of happened if dr strange just had a bucket of glitter hanging around to throw in thanos eyes.

But lucky for wally he too has mastered the blade.. and the bucket of glitter. He also inherited his grandpa's outfit and magical trunk so he wins as you'd expect

The ending is rather sweet. Wally encourages Dorthy to come with him after they go back to the wiggles house and OH CHRIST I FORGOT THE DOOR

This horrifying monstrosity opens the wiggles house and tests them or dorthy whenever they wnat to enter. Thankfully they pass as this film was about to get a LOT bloodier if they failed. I don't know if ti eats them, puts them in a saw trap or just sicks the tall man on them but frankly i'm better off not knowing. Really happy they phased this guy out after season 1 of the tv show. I don't know how many 90's australian kids nightmares he still stalks but at least he stalked slightly less.

So they go IT WAS A SUPRISE PARTY and yeah yeah but I lke the bit iwth wally: wally genuinely apologizes, is accepted by the wiggles who are like "no harm no foul what's some theft between friends" and as you'd expect greg gives him the wand. and look this flim is predictable, kind of insane.. but i'ts charming. The wiggles movie didn't give me much to analyze: it's a simple work and does what it does well. But I can't deny the wiggles charisma, creatvity or charm> even with the stock plot I hate... I still like this movie. It's relaxing which is what a film for toddlers should be but not SUPER obnoxious for the adults watching.. Not full on something they can enjoy too, but not something that will drive them insane being played a hundred times. It also made me want some fruit salad and that ain't bad. Thanks for reading

[croziers-compass]

Since @caleblandrybones brought this up... I'm blending historical accuracies / headcannons here as well. So don't mind me. But this regards the Deaths of the Leftenants and James Fitzjames aka the 19th Century Spice Girls. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Dundy and Fitzjames were best friends. Dundy and John Irving were best friends. They drew did water colours together. Hodgson and Fitzjames were best friends. All of them were best friends. All the Leftenants were friends. They all knew each other.

These were men that went through much of the same things as one another. They went to the same school. The same education system. They served on the same ships. They probably sat up late in their youths, rocked in their little hammocks beside one another, laughing quietly and chattering the evening away with little dim lamplights. They got sick. They took care of one another. They probably bought one another doxies on birthdays when they were at port. Or found silly little things to give one another as they grew up on those ships. They drew. They probably swam together. And then they died in the coldest and most inhospitable places of the world, slowly. They didn't die quick. Like a gunshot through the arm and chest that hit the lucky spot that killed. They wasted. Slowly. They knew that they were dying. They could not have known. They knew that they were going to die. There's a point where that becomes apparent. Do you think they talked about "that time in Australia" while they were losing teeth and bleeding from the gums? Or did they maybe take a moment to cry, but were too dehydrated for tears so it was just dryheaving and sobbing empty tears into one another's tattered greatcoats during a brief moment of privacy? Just friends that would not make it out. Friends that were in so much pain. Eventually the whole system of Command had to shatter just a little and they were just kids again on a voyage that they should not have been on. It probably felt like just a few years ago that they were in warm waters off the coast of Türkiye, Fitzjames trying his best to pull off the accent and looking at spools of cloth and shiny pottery and blown glass? It probably felt like yesterday that Hodgson was sick with fever, bedridden and unable to get up; and Fitzjames made the trip all the way out there to see him and his family. Of which Fitzjames all knew. All so he could invite George Onto the Expedition. He was so thrilled to see Fitzjames that he was better the very next day. And Fitzjames died with that knowledge. That awareness. And all of them were there.

And when they finally were dropping off one by one, having to wake up and find out or to sit there at the edge of a seat watching someone's breathing slow and stop and slow and stop... I think it was like watching someone fade into the horizon aboard a ship that would never return. That hollow emptiness is now just lead-lined memories that are becoming fuzzy and distant as well. Everyone's fading. Even the live ones. I think it felt a lot like losing a limb. Especially when Fitzjames' laughter used to fill all the empty and hollow spaces where silence used to grow.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

[formsofcontinuity]

Within Arms Reach

A no-powers, NSFW Supercorp bodyguard AU for chimonantus_signifies's birthday (M rating). <3

Read below the cut or on AO3.

On her way to attend a gala and L-Corp satellite launch in Sydney, Lena meets her local security detail, one Kara Danvers. Too bad she's also jet-lagged and in no state to wrangle her wayward libido.

“Well, you're unexpected."

Lena hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt, but as far as she was concerned it was a miracle she was coherent at all – after a thirteen-hour flight on which she’d slept a grand total of thirty minutes, three back-to-back meetings within two hours of her arrival, and, now, a gala to prepare for after only a hastily downed coffee and a rather dry scone. 

So, she’d have to be forgiven for opening her hotel room door, seeing the gorgeous blonde in a deep blue evening dress on her threshold, and losing her mind just a little. 

The blonde in question grinned, looking unfairly relaxed and not even the least bit offended by Lena’s candor. She had muscular biceps and strong shoulders, exposed by the almost non-existent spaghetti straps of the dress, and she was so preternaturally pretty with her hair brushing her shoulders in waves that Lena was starting to worry she was hallucinating. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Luthor.” The woman’s voice was obnoxiously pretty, too. Damn her. 

“Actually,” Lena interrupted, coolly, trying to wrest back some control from her own runaway libido. “It’s Dr. Luthor.” She eyed the woman up and down, but the blonde didn’t falter, only nodded and continued smiling.

“Dr. Luthor, of course. My apologies. I hope I’m not too early? I was told you’d be expecting me.” She reached out her hand and Lena took it by rote despite her frazzled nerves, finding the soft warmth of the other woman’s palm and the gentle firmness of her handshake not in the least bit distracting, thank you very much. “I’m Kara Danvers, from Soteria Security. You spoke with my boss last week.” 

Lena did vaguely remember a conversation, but dredging up the memory of its specifics was difficult in her current mental state. She’d had an uptick in death threats in the lead up to the release of L-corp’s newest satellite, meant to monitor air and water pollution in the South Pacific. It didn’t make any sense – Lena was just trying to do some good in the world – but the climate change deniers seemed to ramp up their harassment anytime L-corp announced a new sustainable innovation, no matter how innocuous. According to them, Lena was installing spy satellites or irradiating Australia in 5G or attempting to poison the entire southern hemisphere. Who knows? 

The actual launch wasn’t happening for three days, but L-Corp was holding a gala tonight for its international team of scientists and financiers. She didn't think she needed extra security; frankly, the death threats were old hat to her by now. Sam, though, had insisted she hire someone local on top of her usual team, someone who could more easily blend in at the gala than the suits that usually tailed Lena at these events – no point in worrying the investors. 

Instead of saying all that, Lena went with the first response that came to her weary mind: “You’re American?”

Kara laughed. "Guilty. But if it makes you feel better, I've lived in Sydney since my teens." 

What would really make Lena feel better is the nap she’d promised herself before she had to get ready in earnest, and the time for that was dwindling every minute she wasted gazing dumbly at her security detail. 

"Dr. Luthor," Kara continued, her tone growing serious, although her eyes, such a brilliant blue, seemed to sparkle while she spoke, "I know you need to get ready and it's been a long day already, but I would love to talk logistics with you before we go to the gala." 

Lena nodded, stepping aside to allow Kara into the sitting room of her generous suite. Kara moved past her, not so much graceful as alluring, her smooth, confident stride all the more arresting for its incongruity with the silky fabric of her dress. 

Lena settled into one of the two chairs at a small table by the room's large picture window, feeling exhaustion tug at her as soon as she sunk into the soft leather. 

Kara didn't take the proferred seat opposite but instead stopped a few feet in front of where Lena sat and linked her hands behind her back in a posture of military readiness that might have been comical if it didn't have an immediate and embarrassingly devastating effect on Lena that she wasn't quite ready to unpack. She crossed her legs self-consciously. 

"When I spoke with your assistant yesterday, she said discretion was essential so we don't detract from the event – no suit or ear pieces or visible weapons. Is that still the case?"

Lena furrowed her brow. "It is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You looked a bit surprised to see me," Kara admitted with a rueful smile. 

"I just–" Lena hesitated, then reminded herself that she was the boss here and could ask any damn question she wanted. "Honestly, I was surprised. You don’t look much like a bodyguard.”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “That’s kind of the idea, yeah.”

Lena sighed, straightened her shoulders, and mustered up the last reserves of her corporate poise. "Even so, would you mind sharing your credentials, Ms. Danvers? I think Jess forgot to send over your file."

"Of course, Dr. Luthor,” Kara began, all professional poise. “I graduated top of my class from the University of Melbourne, where I also competed on their modern pentathlon team. I have a fourth degree black belt in Shorin-ryu karate and further training in both Jiu Jitsu and Tae Kwon Do. I don't generally use firearms, but I have an expert ranking as a marksman."

"And how long have you been in this line of work?"

"The last four years, give or take. Sometimes, I take a few weeks off to work as a stunt woman, actually. Secret passion of mine." Kara waggled her eyebrows, and Lena absolutely did not find her stupefyingly sexy while doing it. 

"I'm a good judge of people, have 20/20 vision, excellent hearing," Kara went on, "and I consider it my responsibility and my privilege to remain attentive to your needs this evening while maintaining an awareness of any potential threats."

"My needs?" Lena echoed curiously, trying to gather the threads of her sanity. 

Kara, to Lena's surprise, blushed. "Your safety," she clarified. 

Interesting. Suddenly Lena didn't feel so tired after all.

And yet, after briefing Kara on the threats she'd received and other harassment she'd faced, Lena retreated to the privacy of the suite's bedroom, set two alarms, stripped down to only her underwear, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Almost three hours later, she awoke to a steady tapping on the room's adjoining door, Sam having insisted that Lena's local security stay nearby. 

"Lena?" Kara's voice was muffled through the barrier. "Jess has been trying to reach you. I told her I hadn't let you get kidnapped, but then I realized I should check to make sure."

Lena groaned and looked at her phone. Six texts and two phone calls from Jess. She'd missed the check-in she'd arranged with her assistant to make sure she didn't sleep through her own gala. Lena looked at the clock. Only twenty minutes behind; she’d still be alright. 

Lena tapped out a quick response to Jess, called to Kara through the door that she was up, and moved blearily to the shower. 

***

Lucky for Lena, she'd been through this routine more times than she could count and was an expert at making herself look put together on only a few hours of sleep. She also had more stamina than she sometimes gave herself credit for and, within the first half hour of the gala, felt like her old self again, greeting colleagues and networking with potential partners and donors. It probably helped that by the time the gala got into full swing, it was 6am in Metropolis, so her body had just reset to behave as if it were morning, running rather effectively on fumes if Lena did say so herself. 

Unlucky for her, she now had a beautiful and distracting shadow. Kara had suggested Lena introduce her as her assistant to keep questions to a minimum, but Lena couldn't help thinking that anyone seeing them together might wonder if Kara was her date – and she certainly couldn't stop a flicker of excitement tripping up her spine at the thought. Kara maintained a scant distance of no more than a pace or two away from Lena wherever she went in the lushly decorated venue. Every time the blonde drifted close, angling her body in a protective posture each time they entered a new area, Lena was caught up in the delicate floral scent of her perfume. 

"You're hovering," Lena said quietly as they waited in line at the bar.

"Kind of my job." Kara shrugged. "If I don't stay within arms reach of you at all times, I won't be close enough to protect you."

"I doubt very much it will be necessary."

"That's the hope, Dr. Luthor."

Lena looked sharply at the blonde to see if she was making fun, but Kara's eyes were kind, her face open and guileless. The look made Lena feel uncomfortably warm, so she turned away and ordered a scotch. 

The rest of the evening passed much the same. Lena schmoozed with Kara a silent presence at her elbow. She gave her speech with Kara at the corner of the stage, the bodyguard's gaze trained on the crowd. Still, when Lena was finished and moved to leave the dais, the look Kara gave her was intense and admiring. The low timbre of her "You were incredible," spoken quietly into Lena's ear as Kara offered her arm so she could safely descend the stairs, was not something Lena would soon forget. 

At dinner, much to Lena's surprise, Kara made lively conversation with their tablemates, falling into the charade of her assistant with ease – although Lena could see how the blonde constantly kept an eye on the room, never letting down her guard. 

"Tired?" Kara asked quietly as dessert was served, her warm breath ghosting the shell of Lena's ear. And yes, Lena had crossed and uncrossed her legs three times in as many minutes as the evening's other speeches droned on, but being tired had been displaced far on the backburner of her consciousness. 

“Restless, maybe.” Lena admitted, willing Kara, who was sitting close, their shoulders brushing, not to question her further. 

Thank God no one expected her to dance, Lena mused, watching as a few couples twirled on the tiny bit of parquet tucked into the corner of the venue once the speeches ended. What would Kara do then?

Maybe ask you to dance herself, Lena's brain supplied. It would be highly unprofessional, of course, an impossible fantasy, but that didn't stop her from conjuring up the image of them together or briefly imagining a world where this enigmatic woman was actually here as her date. Lena was only human, after all. 

Kara was too close and, somehow, not close enough, Lena's traitorous body reminding her with greater frequency as the evening progressed just how attractive the other woman was and just how long it had been since anyone Lena actually liked had shown interest in the CEO. Because unless Lena was very much mistaken, Kara was interested. She'd hidden it well, at first, and Lena had chalked up all the attention to the bodyguard just doing her job, but, two hours in, Lena noticed that Kara's gaze sometimes lingered when it had no legitimate need to do so. Surely no threats to Lena's security were going to emerge suddenly out of the low cut bodice of her dress.

Despite Kara's wandering eyes, Lena had to acknowledge that even if the blonde did find her attractive, she was being professional and discreet, never making an off-color comment or staring too long. If Lena hadn't been so hyper-focused on the other woman herself, she might not have noticed at all. Unfortunately, Lena didn’t have that kind of self-control, at least not over her body's instinctual responses to a veritable goddess following her around, especially jet lagged and after two drinks. Whenever the woman wasn’t looking in her direction, Lena’s eyes traced the lines of Kara's clavicle. She admired the arch of her neck and the strength of her shoulders. She wondered how the curve of her waist might feel under her hands. 

Kara caught her twice, both times as the evening began to wind to a close. The first time, Lena looked away, blushing. The second time, she didn’t react fast enough, so she just surrendered to Kara's playfully raised eyebrow and shrugged as if to say, you're gorgeous, who can blame me? That time, it was Kara who blushed.

Besides Lena’s incrementally fraying willpower, nothing really happened until it was time to leave the gala. She’d called her car, said her goodbyes, and discussed the schedule for tomorrow with the head of L-Corp’s Australian office. They were making their way out into the foyer of the venue and then down its exterior marble steps, when Lena spotted the small group of protestors just at the edge of the entrance, corralled into a corner away from the line of cars waiting to pick up the gala’s guests. A bunch of conspiracy theorists and crackpots chanting incoherent slogans about climate change being a government conspiracy and Lena being a baby murderer who hated freedom. Apparently even on the other side of the world, Lena had to deal with these morons, she mused, eyeing them with annoyance rather than fear as she and Kara approached the waiting car.

Distracted by the protestors, Lena didn’t process the blur of movement that rippled past her peripheral vision until it was too late.

The man was fast, but Kara was faster, catching Lena’s would-be assailant by the collar and flattening him onto the pavement in one smooth arc before Lena’s brain even had a chance to react to the idea of an actual threat. Another man charged out of the bushes opposite the protestors, yelling vitriol – all things Lena had heard before; these oafs weren’t even creative – only to be deftly dealt with by Kara, too, as she brought her elbow up in a sharp, swift clip to the man’s face and brought him down in a heap on top of his comrade. 

Lena was flooded with delayed adrenaline, her hands trembling as she swayed slightly in place, but that sensation was almost immediately replaced by something much darker, more heady, when she caught sight of Kara, who was looking around rapidly for further threats. The blonde was panting slightly from exertion, the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest doing nothing to calm Lena’s nerves. 

The venue’s own security rushed forward, apprehending the men before they even had a chance to stand. Kara took Lena’s arm urgently, bustling her into the car, and then made a rapid series of phone calls to her boss at the security company, Jess, and the Sydney police in the span of time it took them to drive back to the hotel. 

“My people have swept your hotel room,” Kara assured while she was leading Lena, who was still surprisingly shaky, into the lobby, “and it’s clear. I spoke with security at the gala, and they’ve confirmed those guys were amateurs, no weapons, just bluster. They probably just wanted to scare you. There’s no indication they have any idea where you’re staying; we’ve been very careful about that, and the driver made sure we weren’t followed.”

Lena nodded absentmindedly, leaning into Kara’s hand resting on the small of her back as they entered the elevator. 

“Will you be alright?” Kara hesitated after walking Lena into her hotel room, eyes casting about for any hidden threats despite the assurances of the rest of her team. 

Lena nodded. The death threats, the yelling, the protestors, even the occasional idiot who tried to make physical contact – none of those things were that unusual. 

It was Kara, Lena admitted. This veritable stranger had had her on edge since she’d shown up on Lena’s doorstep that afternoon. She didn’t feel fear anymore, not at all. She was awash with gratitude. But also – after Kara standing close to her all night, Kara’s eyes watching her every move, Kara’s careful hands guiding her, and Kara’s swift and skillful handling of those brutes – Lena was so turned on she barely knew what to do with herself. 

Lena moved to the dresser, removing her earrings and necklace and taking a moment to catch her breath. She had to play this right. She wouldn’t want to take advantage of her authority, or make Kara feel obligated. But something deep inside her was also screaming not to let this opportunity pass, not when she felt inexplicably drawn to this woman, not with Kara so close, not when she could feel the other woman’s eyes still on her, even now, practically burning into her back. 

Lena turned, mind made up in a flash when she saw the look on Kara’s face. It was unabashed in its appreciation, the blonde failing miserably to mask her expression in time. 

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” Lena sighed, pouring herself a drink from the mini bar. “I’m used to it. But I do appreciate your intervention.” 

“It’s my job.”

“I know.” Lena took a sip of her drink, wincing slightly. It wasn’t what she really wanted. She set the glass down with a clink.  “And you’re obviously very good at it. So, thank you.” She gestured at the bar. “Can I offer you something?”

“Not while I’m on the clock, thanks.” 

“Are you still on the clock?” Lena hedged, tone coy.  

Kara’s brow furrowed. She looked at her watch, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Not technically, no. I was only hired for the duration of the gala, and you have your own team stationed outside and around the hotel.” Kara took one step towards the door, mimicking a gesture of dismissal with her hand. “Are you saying you’d like me to leave?”

Lena paused, letting the moment extend and grow heavy. A surge of her usual confidence buoyed her, a welcome feeling after spending the day mostly off-kilter. She’d probably regret it in the morning, but, right now, Lena felt like a live wire, alert and buzzing with energy. Perhaps there was a benefit to jet lag, after all. 

“I’m not saying that at all, actually,” Lena let her voice drop to a lower register. “But,” she added pointedly, “you are absolutely free to go if you need to get on with your evening. I’m safe. You did your job admirably.”

Something shifted behind Kara’s eyes, a calculation, and then her whole demeanor changed, her posture relaxing and a cocky little smirk curling over her lips. She practically sauntered over to the small table, the back of her hand just grazing Lena’s thigh as she passed. 

“Then, yeah,” Kara took a seat, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Since I’m officially off duty, I’d love to have that drink.” 

Lena made Kara a gin and tonic at the blonde’s request, then brought it over to the table, pleased that she managed to keep her hands from shaking – at least until Kara gently caught her wrist, drawing Lena’s attention to the blonde’s face. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?” Kara licked her lips. 

“I thought you were off the clock?” 

Kara raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Lena swallowed hard. 

“That’s not what I meant, and I think you know that. You’re gorgeous and brilliant, Dr. Luthor–” 

“Lena.” 

“Lena.” Kara smiled, then repeated, “You’re gorgeous and brilliant, and I’d be a fool to turn down what I think this is – but if I’ve misunderstood, I’m more than happy to just have my drink and go.”

Lena shook her head, slowly turning her wrist in Kara’s hand so she could trace one finger across the blonde’s pulse point. 

“You haven’t misunderstood.” 

“Good,” Kara grinned. “Then come here.” She tugged on their joint hands, pulling Lena closer. “Please,” she added quietly, as Lena pulled up the hem of her own dress with as much grace as she could muster so she could accommodate the girth of Kara’s thighs between her legs as she straddled the blonde’s lap. 

Instead of kissing her immediately, Kara held Lena’s hips firm in strong hands while trailing her lips featherlight over Lena’s neck and shoulders. 

“I have been wanting to do this all night,” Kara admitted on a warm exhale. 

“Oh, God. Me too.” 

Kara hummed happily, pressing a soft open-mouth kiss just behind Lena’s ear. It felt amazing, but Lena wasn’t really in the mood for slow and gentle, nor did she have the patience for prolonged foreplay. 

Threading her fingers through Kara’s hair, Lena used the leverage it gave her to draw Kara into a devastating kiss, one that ratchetted in intensity almost immediately.  Lena opened her mouth to Kara’s insistent tongue and whimpered against her lips. Kara took her cue from Lena, and wasted no time pushing the straps of Lena’s dress down her shoulders. 

The kiss did absolutely nothing to sate the needy ache that had taken up residence low in Lena’s belly for most of the evening, nor did it slacken the taut bowstring of Lena’s desire. Instead, it only made Lena feel more delirious, a wild streak of lightning zipping up her spine as Kara moaned unabashedly against Lena’s mouth, the blonde’s hands stroking reverently over the now bared skin of her waist and back. 

For a split second, Lena wondered what on earth she was doing, climbing into the lap of someone who was, no matter how beautiful or talented at her job, a stranger. And then Kara made short work of her bra, unclasping it with the deft fingers of one hand and flinging it to the floor, before cupping Lena’s full breasts and trailing her thumbs over tightening nipples.

“Oh, fuck.” Lena really might be losing her mind but, honestly, she just didn’t care.

“Is this okay?” Kara asked sweetly, breath hot on Lena’s lips.

“Yes. More than okay.” Lena gasped as Kara’s touch grew firmer. She tried to catch her breath. “I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but I really don’t see that happening.” 

Kara chuckled. "I won't waste anymore time then." She moved her mouth back to Lena’s neck, and slid one hand confidently over Lena's hip to push her dress further up her waist. 

In the span of a breath, Kara's fingers were trailing between Lena's legs and pushing her underwear aside. She paused only long enough to make sure Lena was ready for her – and, God, Lena was; she'd been ready for the better part of the evening – before pressing inside with one firm, smooth stroke. 

Perhaps sensing that Lena was already on the verge of being overwhelmed, Kara settled into a slow rhythm at first, rolling her hips up in time with the thrust of her fingers until Lena could feel her everywhere, waves of pleasure washing over her as she held onto Kara’s shoulders and buried her face in the hollow between the other woman’s neck and shoulder. When she’d opened her door this afternoon, she certainly never imagined she’d wind up here, in the lap of this self-assured, stunning woman, dress bunched around her waist and unable to help herself from making increasingly frantic noises into the blonde’s skin.

“That’s good, baby. I’ve got you,” Kara’s voice was low and affected, and it broke out into a moan, too, as Lena clung to her, nails digging into Kara’s shoulder blades. 

She tightened around Kara’s fingers, and the blonde instinctively picked up the pace as much as their somewhat awkward position would allow. But there was no way Lena was going to suggest moving, not right now, not when desire was running roughshod over her body and the edges of her vision were whiting out on the tide of her impending orgasm. Lena squeezed her eyes shut tight, lips and tongue tracing over the light sheen of sweat that had broken out on Kara’s skin. 

Kara moved her thumb over Lena’s clit and somehow simultaneously shifted the angle of her fingers. An intense, hot flare of molten need arced between Lena’s legs, spreading like a wildfire through her abdomen and upper thighs. Lena had been so distracted by everything that was happening, she’d almost forgotten Kara’s other hand, still pressed against her breast. Except then Kara tugged gently on Lena’s nipple, rolling it between her fingers in time with a particularly fervent thrust of her other hand. Lena came, hard, her body tensing before shaking uncontrollably, ripples of pleasure making her cry out and rock harder into Kara for several protracted moments of unadulterated bliss. 

“God,” Kara groaned, her own hips twitching as Lena’s trembling began to subside. “You are so fucking hot. You have no idea.” 

She wanted to respond in kind, but Lena was beyond speech, her whole body aglow with satisfaction. Kara slowly withdrew her fingers, shaking out her wrist with a smile, and Lena ached for her again, just like that. She sagged against Kara’s body with a soft whimper. 

“Bed?” Kara nuzzled into Lena’s hair, as Lena tried valiantly to catch her breath. “Or, would you prefer if I just go?”

That got Lena’s attention, drawing her out of her post-orgasmic haze. She leaned back to look at Kara fully. The blonde’s face was flushed, her eyes bright and eager, but there was a kindness there, too, an understanding, and Lena knew that if she asked Kara to leave, she wouldn't resent Lena for it at all. 

Not that Lena was interested in that option.

“Bed, please.” Lena answered, rising from Kara’s lap on unsteady legs, and letting her dress fall to the floor before she peeled her underwear off too in one fluid motion. Kara, still fully clothed and biting her bottom lip in concentration, was looking at Lena like she wanted to devour her, and Lena had no intention of letting that kind of attention go to waste. 

“Oh, good.” Kara grinned widely and, with impressive speed, stripped off her own dress and yanked down her underwear. Lena laughed, suddenly gleeful, but she barely had a chance to admire the muscular curves of Kara’s body, her firm breasts and sculpted abs, her truly spectacular ass, before Kara had taken Lena’s hand and was urgently walking them both to the bed. 

She turned as if planning to push Lena down onto the waiting mattress, but Lena stalled her movements with a hand to the blonde’s chest. 

“My turn, next, I think.” Lena smiled at the surprised look on Kara’s face, maneuvering their bodies until she could push Kara onto the mattress instead. “What?” she asked, as Kara grinned. 

“Oh nothing.” Kara scooted back onto the bed and pulled Lena with her until Lena was sprawled on top, hips fitting neatly into the juncture between the blonde’s open thighs. “You’re just pretty unexpected yourself, is all.” 

Lena rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, then kissed Kara, open-mouthed and passionate, to silence the other woman’s quiet laughter. 

Moments later, as Lena began kissing her way languidly down Kara’s body, her eyes flicked to the clock. It was just past 1am Sydney-time, so not even noon in Metropolis. Didn’t that mean she had the whole day ahead of her? And, even if not, some things were worth losing a little sleep over.

[kyndaris]

Onward to the Gong!

Living in New South Wales, public holidays are few and far between with only 11 official days. That being said, not all of them lead to long weekends. And after the Monarch's birthday in June, we poor Sydneysiders must need wait until Labour Day in October before partaking of another extended rest. It's outrageous, I tell you! Atrocious!

Still, in the spirit of adventure and wishing to relive our halcyon days in the sun, me and a few of my friends headed down to Wollongong to enjoy the salty sea air and swan around their city centre, which is but a stone's throw away from the major hustle and bustle that is Sydney. The only major city one really needs to visit when on the east coast of Australia.

Melbourne, who?

I jest. Melbourne is a perfectly fine city to visit or live. It's just...you know, not Sydney.

Although, it should not be noted that a day trip out to Wollongong was not what I'd initially dreamt up for the long weekend. Oh no. Rather, I'd hoped to road trip to the capital of Australia, Canberra, to catch a performance of RENT. The addition of more people to my travel plans, however, scuppered the idea.

What we got instead was a fancy day out with good food and even better company. It involved lounging at a cafe as we devoured a huge breakfast, watched as a car in front of us mount the central curb before swerving across multiple lanes and tailgating the cars in front of it, and also testing our abilities with a devious escape.

A worthy consolation prize, if I do say so myself.

Better than that, we didn't have any time to pay a visit to Shellharbour, where I would have relived the trauma of my many date fails (he was an earnest young man but not, perhaps, what I was seeking in a life partner).

Our small group of adults of mostly over-30s did stumble upon a protest to Free Palestine, however. By then, it was nearing 4 PM. Why it was so late in the afternoon remained a mystery. But the slogans were, admittedly catchy, and it was far better than the preaching we encountered earlier about how we ought to read the Bible lest we burn in Hell. Even some Mormons passing by were caught in the crosshairs.

As for the reason why, I couldn't say. But perhaps different evangelical groups feel like only their own beliefs are true? And all others are corruptions that don't adhere to the correct teachings?

These mild gripes aside, our day trip down to Wollongong was pretty much a success. Even the planning was an exciting endeavour in and of itself. Although, it must be said, trying to negotiate with friends to agree on a date, an activity and location can be like trying to wrangle kittens. It took no small effort to work around people's different schedules and plans.

And while I would have preferred a slightly more challenging escape room than the one we got, it was, in hindsight, for the best. The escape room was at the Breakout Bar, next to Wollongong Central. It was themed with clockwork gears on the ceiling and tables with the entrances to the escape rooms looking like heavy thick-set lead doors. Arriving early, we were given a brief overview of the escape room and the narrative tying all five of them together.

Once we had reviewed the story, we stored our belongings in the locker, plonked on some steampunk-esque goggles and time travelled all the way to Medieval England on a quest to return Excalibur to the stone it had been lodged in.

Although the escape room was one of the easiest available, our group still struggled to solve some of the puzzles. Of note were the unintuitive nature of the nail tower as it was unclear if the key to a nearby bird cage had been released. This was primarily due to the hidden compartment having to be pulled out manually and there was no audio cue to tell us we had succeeded. Quite a lot of precious time was lost where we tried to find a way to open the hidden compartment through other means (as we thought it was activated by magnets).

One other puzzle stumped us terribly too.

Even when we asked for the easy hint, we were left scratching our heads until we looked at the opposite wall.

If ever I should complain about other people being obtuse, I ought to remind myself that I failed to see a huge red and black shield on a wall (although, to be fair, in our group of five, four pairs of eyes also failed to spot it as well).

Still, we managed to escape the room. With time to spare!

Overall, I'd say the escape room was a success in how it got us all to collaborate with its many puzzles. All of us got to contribute our expertise, allowing us to return Excalibur to its rightful place and head back into Professor B's time machine in order to search for his beloved in another time period.

And while Wollongong is certainly no sprawling Sydney, I like to think we enjoyed our time there: from soaking up the sun at Coniston Dog Beach and contributing to a driftwood hut, to nabbing free chips at Grill'd, having a dessert break at Kurtosh, or buying a couple more books to add to my ever growing collection.

Perhaps next we visit the Illawara region, me and my group of friends can look to a few coastal hikes or perhaps take a gander up on the treetops.

If heading south isn't an option, we can always go horseback trail riding instead!

Australia may not be as vibrant as other countries, but there are many a hidden gem for both locals and tourists to discover. After taking some time to explore the main thoroughfare of Wollongong, I can say there's plenty to do and see in the small coastal city that's only an hour away. An absolute steal considering how far other locations can be in the great big giant country I call home.

[ganymede-princess]

who the fuck is ganymede-princess?

☆ Hi! If you clicked this link, you're curious about who I am, so here is an info-dump of my gen-Z-unlimited-internet-access-at-a-formative-age villain origin story ☆

But first, rapid fire facts:

Name: Aenya/Erin

Age: 21

Sign: Scorpio sun, Virgo moon, Pisces rising

Nationality: Australian 🇦🇺🦘

Gender/pronouns/sexuality: female, she/her, somewhere on the bisexual spectrum

Current fandoms: ASoIaF/GoT/HotD, Interview with the Vampire, Doctor Who

Main writing style: MxF, canon x reader/oc, first or third person, SFW

On to my fandom story:

TW: mentions of grooming and sexual exploitation

I have been a part of various fandom spaces for 10+ years, starting with a pre-teen obsession with those "who is your [insert fandom here] boyfriend" quizzes on Quotev, where you would answer some arbitrary questions and they would serve you up a gif of some teenage boy and a cute blurb about how you two got together. This quickly evolved into ravenously consuming The Hobbit, Maze Runner and Narnia fan fictions like a starving creature that can only be sustained by pink fairy floss levels of mindless sugar-rush fluff. Shout out to the long ago deleted Edmund Pevensie fic 'Cupid's Arrow.' You never forget your first...

From there, I published my first fics to Wattpad at age 13; a series of short and shit Game of Thrones imagines. Yes, I was far too young to be watching that stuff, but my parents were notoriously liberal with what I was allowed to watch (they showed me The Rocky Horror Picture Show at age eight.) I gained a few thousand views from other gullible kids, and the praise I received was my first true addiction. When I fell deep into an obsession with 60s-80s rock music around my 14th birthday, I fed this addiction by writing xreader fics about the likes of John Lennon, David Bowie, and Syd Barrett. As a lonely, self-deprecating kid from rural Australia, I found a sense of community in these fandom spaces, and I have sought them out time and again even into my early 20s.

At age seventeen, while deep in the classic rock community and with the world on the cusp of a global pandemic, I was groomed by an older man. He was tall, Scandinavian, and beautiful, with long blonde hair, and had been in a glam metal band in his early 20s before moving on to a psychedelic rock band in his late 20s to early 30s, much like the men I idolized. It was the perfect trap, and during this time my obsession with him consumed me. I pivoted away from fan fiction, feeling like it would be a betrayal to my "boyfriend" to write about any other man in a romantic context (and frankly I was incapable of even thinking of anyone else in that way at the time) and instead fervently wrote dozens of love poems over the course of the next eighteen months. Eventually, I got away from him. Or he grew bored of me. I don't know. But I got out and I got wise, and started to live my life outside of the internet.

When I was nineteen, I saw what would become one of my favourite bands live in concert at a shitty university bar in my home city. The Murlocs. I fell into a deep obsession with the lead singer of the band, and this reignited my love for fan fiction. Let Me Mend the Past would become the first fic published under the ganymede-princess moniker, and the rest is too recent to be history.

I owe so much of my identity to fandom culture. My love for writing, for live music, for film making, it all stems from fandom, and despite the danger and depravity my young self was exposed to, I am forever grateful to it. If you take one thing from this autobiographical ramble let it be this: keep your community alive, and for gods' sake look out for eachother.

Trivia:

One of my most formative fandoms was the Beatles. I got into them through my devotional obsession with Thomas Brodie-Sangster (who stars as Newt in the Maze Runner movies) which lead to me trying to watch every one of his movies, which happened to include Nowhere Boy in which he portrays Paul McCartney.

My username ganymede-princess comes from a lyric from the King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard song Ice V, which is part of their overarching concept album universe, known colloquially as 'the Gizzverse.' This is a fandom unto itself, and one that I hold near and dear.

During the first few months of my time in the King Gizzard fandom, I went by the name Iris (after my favourite flower and the song by the Goo Goo Dolls) because I was so ashamed of how much I loved Ambrose and didn't want him to know who I was. Before I had been in the fandom for a year, I had already met both Amby and Joey, so you can see how that turned out.

I met Ambrose through befriending his mum on Instagram, approaching her at a gig, and her offering me a AAA pass to get backstage and meet him. I think this was somewhat unethical and I'm still embarrassed about it...

My longest fan fiction ever is the AO3 exclusive We Share the Same Sky at over 38k words and counting. While it is not explicitly autobiographical, it is my most personal work in many ways, not the least of which being the fact that I hold Isaac very close to my heart; closer than any other musician.

[fuck-comphet]

Joy and Grief

Are perpendicular streets

They intersect at every grand occasion

Or every intimate moment

I sit at their crossing point

Myself cross-legged and small

Sometimes for my eyes to well only

And other times for full sobs

It was a room of armpit hair and crop tops

Here, gender only exists to affirm those who choose to partake in it;

The form or feel of it never static and always perfect

We were all wearing our queerness loudly

The safety in a place like this goes unmatched

We are strangers who get it

I know where this road leads me

Queer joy and queer grief intertwine in my drink; they dance in my veins;

They remind me that we are all alive, and have found each other to celebrate in a world that would prefer us dead;

Isn’t that the greatest victory?

They remind me that my community is always smaller than it was meant to be; the room suddenly feels too big

Isn’t that the greatest of sorrows?

There is one safehouse in this city

Correction, in this State

Correction, in this country

What sweet pleasure to sit there for a time

Not to work, but to take up space

To exist, to be seen

That’s all my heart has ever desired, I think

There it is again

The joy of being held by these walls; great palissades, providers of respite

The grief of leaving; knowing there is no such place near home

The walls are lined with photographs

Queer parties of the past; not that different from the party we were at last night, they said

Proof that we have always been here

How overwhelmingly beautiful to witness

The good parts of history can repeat themselves too

I think that every kiss my love gives me is a balm on my fears

We hold hands wherever we are in the world

We buy matching pride necklaces and wear them to dinner

What is the very definition of seen if not that;

They told me that eventually, it might get mundane

The witnessing of our community; the joining in on the fun

And once it becomes mundane, maybe it won’t overwhelm me so

Part of me hopes it does

Let our queer joy be so normal, so frequent

That it no longer topples me over

That my joy becomes parallel to my grief, so that they may never touch again

———

I wrote this piece shortly after my 25th birthday; my partner and I went to Melbourne, Australia. We attended an alt queer party at night and went to the Victoria Pride Centre the very next morning. I cried so much, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my joy of finally feeling like I belonged or from my grief for every single queer person who had not felt this belonging yet, or who have died before they ever knew how loved they were.

[for-andies-eyes-only]

to the freaking tall man with the shitty-as phone

i write this as i wait for a response i'll probably never get. that, or one i'll receive more than twelve hours past my last reply. either way, i know we're ending.

so let me end this chapter of me (and of you) well, where i think of you only in fondness.

you are (and i say this not in past tense, because you still are and will possibly always be) the best part of my hanoi trip. there would have been no better ending to my short, five-day stay but you.

-

i felt the want to know you because conversations with you on the yellow dating app were interesting. that you are from australia had me intrigued, but what drew me to you was that you were engaging, and that you'd send me photos of your own adventures. this was before we even met in person.

the day we met was a day i knew i'd be tired (and the you would be too). i'd be coming from a jam-packed adventure from ninh binh, and you'd be coming back from your own sapa trip. i would have understood it if you called it off that evening.

i would have also understood if you'd called it off when i showed up later than the time we'd agreed on. i had no plans of standing you up; circumstances just weren't in my favor that i came in half an hour late. but you were there, and i'm glad you stayed.

i knew that you were someone i could be comfortable with, because the hug you gave to welcome me put me at ease more than anything. you should know how horribly bad i felt when i came in shorts and a top, underdressed in contrast to your actual date get-up. you should also know that i didn't expect you to suggest us to meet somewhere so fancy.

the night went on with you telling me about your dogs, your family, you missing vegemite and me missing shapes biscuits. you promised to send me the green and purple ones, and though in vain, i would like to hold you to that.

-

i should tell you, by the way, that i don't usually drink, and that i barely ever smoke. if i did, i would use my friends' vape, but i would never huff a cigarette. funnily enough, you had such an effect on me, so much so that i put a cigarette in my mouth for the first time in my life. no, i do not regret doing it and if it were with you i might take one again.

you would probably be the only person i would let myself be led to a bar street by. (to be fair, it was me doing the leading; your shitty-as google phone did nothing to help us on this matter.)

these are the little things i'll remember you by. i'll remember you by the free tequila shots neither of us were expecting. i'll remember you by subtle touches—me on your knees and you on my back. i'll remember us laughing at the live singer's sullen set, and their valiant attempt to get though all of that.

i treated you to drinks (probably one of the only things i actually paid for). my birthday "libre", i mentioned. you were so close to paying, but i liked you enough to cover this one.

i find myself lucky that i can remember you through a candid photo—this is my favorite one of you—and a candid video of you being your adorably kind self and entertaining street dogs.

and i'll remember you "forgetting" how to get back to your hotel, when i knew that you knew where it was all along.

-

[scene, non-verbatim but close enough]

Y: we have to go back to solar sky bar. my hotel is near there. i just forgot where it was exactly.

M: i'd invite you to mine, but the bed's too small

Y: you can stay over mine if you'd want. do you want to?

M: do you want me to?

Y: if you want to.

M: do you want me to?

Y: yeah, sure

M: then okay :)

-

i don't know if we kissed first in the shower or on the bed. all i can remember is that the water temperature of the water was just right, and the you were the first to give in to a more intimate touch. (i asked for the soap bar; you decided to rub the soap bar on me.)

regardless of whether we kissed first in the shower or on the bed, what i was exceedingly aware of this: that i enjoyed kissing you. the first time my lips touched yours, i knew. it might be tied to the fact that i was also exceedingly attracted to you, but you gave me the best kisses by far.

i may have drank more than i usually would, but i was aware of everything that was happening that evening. i knew that you were about to take me raw, and i didn't stop you, despite my better senses, because i wanted it too.

you felt so good. i wasn't lying when i said that out loud to you.

and when you came, i honestly wanted more. unfortunately for me, you didn't have much to give.

-

[scene]

M: that's it?

Y: yeah, you need some time to recharge a dick

M: aww

(we said some other things i don't remember)

M: but you'll have sex with me tomorrow, right?

Y: yeah

-

you warned me that you sleep talk and that you don't like having dreams. that you need the tv playing softly in the background so that you could sleep peacefully. that there was this one time on school camp where you woke everyone up because you had been yelling in your sleep.

(forgive me for writing this in my recount. this was important to you, and was part of what made me fall harder than i probably should have.)

you mentioned your step-father's sudden passing. how it happened on march 30th the previous year. how you'd known, after hearing of a nearby accident, that it was him. and how you'd gone to the hospital immediately after that, without first confirming who exactly was involved in the accident. because you knew. and that you had to tell you sister about this despite it being her birthday then.

you mentioned your mum multiple times. you were in a disagreement with her then, but i'm glad that it seems resolved now. if i didn't already like you for your personality, i liked you more because you love your mum.

you mentioned also that you were given a backpack by your mum's friend (whose name i have honestly forgotten), and that you were carrying it with you on your two-month adventure.

i learnt so much about you in a single evening, and i wouldn't mind learning more.

-

when i think of the images i would have liked to have physically captured of you, so that i didn't have to conjure up a memory, i think back to our 5am.

i am also a restless sleeper, especially when i'm not on my own bed. i tried not to wake you, but i think i had woken you up each time i moved. i'm lucky though, that you woke up, because i was able to see the most adorable picture of you:

you, lying on your side with the blankets halfway up your chest

me, at the bathroom doorway, looking at you

you, groggy with half-closed eyes and a small smile, giving my a thumbs-up

me, retreating into the bathroom with nothing but glee

if i could replay those couple of seconds again and again, without your face ever fading, i would.

-

when i asked for sex in the morning, i expected something at 8am. i didn't expect our round two right when i came back to the bed from the bathroom.

(but who am i to complain; it was a good morning for me, and hopefully for you too)

who the heck cared exactly that it was the wee hours of the morning, that we were at the floor right above the lobby, and that you were making me scream as though there was no tomorrow.

i surely didn't. you didn't seem to mind too.

i mentioned that i don't usually sleep well when i'm not on my bed. after this, i slept quite well. thank you.

-

we woke up at a normal time following that. you suggested the night before that we go to this place near the lake so that we could get cake. i honestly just wanted to spend more time with you before i flew back home.

before we left, you gave me a round three (good morning to me, indeed). i wanted to ask for it, but i was hesitant to. lucky for me, i didn't have to.

and lucky for you too, i suppose. i made you come thrice in eight hours.

you were so good to me, all the times. i hope that i was good for you, too. i couldn't put my legs on your shoulders, you freaking tall man, but you made it work so that it felt good for both of us.

-

i'd forgotten where we went for breakfast, but i was a nice place. it had a nice view. i had wonderful company. but we forgot the cake—the thing we were there for to begin with.

at this point, i wasn't sure if i was fun to be around. i knew i was quieter than the night before, and that you had to do all the talking. you were a great sport about it though!

(at this point, i also wanted to hold your hand, but i wasn't sure if you'd let me or if you'd change your mind about hanging out with me if i did that.)

we ended up going back to my hotel for me to get changed and fix my stuff.

-

[scene]

[you see my condom pack]

Y: came prepared have we?

M: yeah, but we didn't use them, did we?

Y: you're on the pill though aren't you?

M: how'd you know

Y: you didn't ask me to put one on. that's on me too though

-

some people talk of post-nut clarity. at some point in me fixing up my stuff and getting myself ready for the rest of the day and my early-morning flight later on, i thought that it would hit you and that you'd end up bailing on hanging out with me that day.

i was wrong to think that. i apologize.

i felt so giddy when i saw you waiting for me outside my hotel. i felt giddy when my hotel receptionist told me that you'd already asked her where we could go to buy souvenirs. i felt giddy when you looked me up and down and told me i looked nice.

(and when we left to find the souvenir street, i wanted to hold your hand again. i regret that i didn't.)

i am thankful that you spent the whole day with me. you carried my bag of souvenirs. you haggled prices for me to take advantage of too. you made my last day fun.

i'll let you in on a secret: i was supposed to meet some other guy that afternoon. i thank the universe that his schedule did not align with mine, and that i did not have to leave you. it would have probably added to my regrets if i did.

i appreciate that we had so much to talk about aside from australia, our travels, and our families (and mind you, that is already a lot). i may not play kingdom hearts, but i know demon slayer. hopefully you've caught up, and hopefully you'll watch the other anime i recommended for you.

maybe the day wasn't how you expected it to go, because you suddenly suggested getting a tattoo. you with your thigh tattoo and your southern cross on your torso (i don't count this, by the way). me with my whole floral collection. i'm sure you knew i was down.

alas, the impromptu tattoo plan did not happen. maybe it was for the best, because that would have been another two hours of me not touching you.

-

[scene, lunchtime]

Y: i'm tired from last night

M: yeah, the tequila killed me too

Y: it wasn't the tequila

M: the walking tired me out too

Y: it wasn't the walk

and all i could do was smile

-

[scene, still lunchtime]

the conversation somehow gets to the topic of my piercing, the one hidden from sight

M: do you want to see it again?

Y: yeah, maybe later

M: good

-

maybe this was a good time to hold you hand, because you were walking a bit too fast. again, i regret not doing it earlier.

when we got to your hotel, you mentioned taking a quick shower. i wanted to check how in the mood you were to fuck me again. "with me, or without me?" i asked, even when i knew what the answer was.

"you can come join me."

so of course i did. i'm sure you knew i would. not on the hair though, because i hated your hotel shampoo.

-

the fourth time was my favorite. if you would ask me, i would tell you honestly.

it starts with me in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped in a towel, drying out my hair. it continues with you coming in and standing behind me. you called me beautiful, and i was so taken aback that i didn't have it in me to say thank you. instead, to be cheeky, i said, "i know."

i had no time to melt at your antics, because the next thing i knew was that i was being pulled by you, your arm around my waist, to the bed. never in my life had i felt more wanted than in that moment.

you asked me to ride, but this pillow princess doesn't usually do that. so i asked you to open me up a bit. of course you did.

and then i rode, because you told me it was my turn. at least for the first minute of me being on top, i did.

i forget what exactly you said next, but it went along the lines of you not wanting to move because you'd get overwhelmed too quickly. lo and behold, you ended up taking over.

and you did it so well that i could think of nothing but to bite you at your collarbone—twice (i had to leave my mark). and you did it so well that i couldn't stop myself from telling you, "inside," beyond my better judgement.

you are my favorite, by far. even my better judgement won't deny that.

i don't know when it happened but my nipple piercing got undone. it was a nice thing to have, aesthetically. i don't need it now though, especially if not having it allowed you be rougher with me.

-

we went to the museum afterwards and met up with your friend. i'm not sure who found it more awkward—me or him—because it may have seemed like he was third-wheeling our date. in another person's point of view, maybe he was.

i again wanted to hold your hand, but i stopped myself because he was there.

i'm glad i got photos of you here, because they would remind me that you actually existed. that the day and a night i spent with you were real.

we ended up going to a bar with shit drinks. again, i don't normally drink, but i would if i liked the company.

at this point, you're bound to know that i already liked you. again, more than i should have liked you.

so i drank again, despite my flight being only hours away. i drank more than my usual, again, because your extroverted ass makes friends too easily. we had shots from the american couple we met, and from the vietnamese staff in the bar. the best part was that we didn't have to pay for any of these.

i was inebriated enough to had wanted to kiss you in the bar, but i had enough of my senses not to do so, even when you spoke words that made me want to pounce on you.

-

[scene]

New Friend: i heard that filipinos are really welcoming and really beautiful.

M: i won't deny that. we are quite nice.

Y, looking at me: i think they're gorgeous

-

we left the bar with enough time. i was going to force you out if you stayed a minute longer.

-

[scene, walking back to your place]

Y: i'm going to cross the street now

M: you are? what about me?

Y: hold my hand then

-

finally, it happened.

did i expect you to kiss the back of my hand right after you held it? no.

did i expect myself to kiss you right on the lips after you did that? no.

would i do it again, the exact same way? absolutely yes.

we'd be put in jail in that country for what i did, you joked. that's fine by me. i liked kissing you.

-

[scene, waiting for banh mi]

M: you were always sitting so far away

Y: see, sometimes i'm a bit dumb and i don't really get the cues when they're there

M: what made you figure it out

Y: when you asked me to sit closer in the bar

-

you took your sweet-as time giving my my goodbye fuck when we finally returned to your hotel. but you gave it to me twice before i left, so who exactly am i to complain.

the fifth time, i finally saw your face when you came. i loved that i made that happen. well, to be fair, you did most of it.

what i remember the most about the fifth time is that i let you mark me. the full access to my neck was deliberate. still, i was surprised with how many marks i had, and how big some of them were. "it's revenge from earlier," you'd tell me later, right before i leave.

that was also the second time you did it inside.

i honestly thought that was it for our sex. i was fine cuddling until i had to go. i was fine just kissing you. it would have been perfectly fine if you didn't have enough left for another round.

but maybe i thought i could tease you one more time.

"you know what the easiest way to turn me on is?" i asked. of course, you asked me what it was. "it's kissing my back."

and of course, that's what you did.

and when you turned me over to lay on my front, i knew what was coming. i was excited for it even. i may not be the best at doggie style—you had to give up on my on this, i'm sorry—but this, i could handle. this, i enjoyed. you, up against my back, giving me all you could milk out of yourself, was the best sendoff i could have received.

the back tattoo would have looked sexy on me, you mentioned after my failed attempt to get one earlier that day. i agree. when i finally get one i hope you would see it, and that you would see it while taking me from behind like you did on our sixth and final time.

-

thank you for also finding me a joy to hang out with. i know the day wasn't as adventurous as you probably would have liked it to be, but thank you for spending it with me. (to be fair, this, on my schedule, was a rest day. and to be fair, you weren't going by a schedule.)

i am not one for words of confirmation, but i am one for words of affirmation. "i wouldn't have done it five times with someone i just met if i didn't like spending time with you." this, from you, right before the final one, was all i needed to hear.

when we got dressed, i'm sure you knew that i didn't want to leave. i sat on your lap and kissed you the way i wanted to when we were at the bar. i gave you everything i could give because, though you mentioned a bali trip in august or the possibility of exploring the philippine islands, i knew that the likeliness of those happening were close to zero. as much as i am still hoping to see you again, i know that the universe was already too kind to have given me twenty-four straight hours with you.

-

so this is goodbye.

i will hold you dear to my memories.

i wish you dreamless nights, or that if you dream, they will be pleasant. i wish your mum and your sister better days to come. i wish for peace for you and your family.

i wish for more adventures for you. i wish that you take every opportunity to explore the world and meet amazing people. i wish that your jolly, golden retriever energy never dies out.

for me, i wish that i could spend another day with you again. it may be futile, but i'll hold on to a message from you, telling me that you're in the same city. i want to look forward to seeing your new place in cairns, but i'm stopping myself from doing so.

i will hold on to the way you held my hand and the way i kissed you while waiting for my ride back to my hotel. i will hold on to the snorlax plushie you told me to use as a pillow on my travel back. and i will hold on to the final three kisses (kisses—not pecks) you gave me before sending me off.

thank you, for bending down to my height to kiss me. i was ready to stand on my tippy toes if you were being stubborn again.

you are, and you will be, the highlight of my vietnam 2024 trip.

(hanoi, 2024)

[pcrfectstorms]

━━ ✦ remus lupin childhood headcanons

━━ ✦ where he's from; lyall lupin met his muggle wife hope in sydney, australia while on assignement by the ministry to document and study the discovery of several new species of magical creatures. for the first three years of his life remus grew up under the hot australian sun, until his father's assignment was over and the lupin family moved back to britain, settling back in the welsh countryside.

━━ ✦ growing up with lycanthropy; after remus was bitten, and afflicted with lycanthrope at age five, his father became obsessed with finding a cure, shipping his small child all over the wizarding world in search to no avail for a cure, it caused a lot of fights and turmoil between hope and lyall; hope who wanted her baby to have as normal a childhood as possible, despite being far from what humans or wizards alike would consider 'normal'. this of course, lead little remus to being accutely aware from a young age that he was not like his peers; that he was different, wrong, something to be hidden away, something shameful, and that seed grew within remus.

after much heated discussion it was decided that remus would attend a muggle school in his early years, hope was adamant that he should recieve a properly rounded education, especially if he were to go off to hogwarts in his secondary school years. lyall did protest this, insisting that remus attend a magical primary school but ultimately it was battle that hope won, and remus attended the local village primary school a year later than his peers at age six, however his childhood outside of school was lonely, his father too afraid to let him out of his sight for long, so while his peers enjoyed school trips and sleepover, and play dates with friends, remus was alone for a lot of his early years. so, he found solace in books, in fantasy worlds where he wasn't the outsider, the freak, the secret -- he would spend hours lost in books, his mother would read to him often, and he treassured that time with her. unlike his father she didn't treat him like he was an abomanation, something to be fixed, to hope, he was just her little remy.

as a direct result of his fathers distain for his condition, remus didn't think much of the magical world, he thought it to be judgemental and cruel, so when his invitation to hogwarts arrived on the morning of his 11th birthday on the 10th of march 1971 he wasn't much impressed, however despite his reservations at hogwarts he made some of the very best friends he could have ever wished for, and soon enough, he went from being a lonely child with no friends to three of the very best friends he could have wished for in the form of james potter, sirius black and peter pettigrew. a little later came along the girls too, the m&m's as remus would affectionately call them - mary macdonald and marlene mckinnon, and of course last but not least his very good friend lily evans.

━━ ✦ worth noting; that while my remus is trans masc, i have little intention of making that a central focus on his character development, especially within magical verses, however in non-magical verse this will explored a little more, as my entire reason for headcanoning him as trans is 1) a fuck you to jkr and 2) because werewolves and vampires have long been used as an allegory for queer in cinema and literature, and thus, makes more sense for this to play a more central role in non-magical verses. he's still trans, and idgaf that its the 70's in canonical marauders timelines, trans people have always existed.

[nedlittle]

Top 5 doomed expeditions

bet you thought this was going to be the franklin expedition huh? well it's not. it's endurance baby!!!!!!!!! genuinely i have to not talk about this one because it makes me so emotional. how the FUCK did those guys survive. one of the questions asked during recruitment was whether you could "shout along with the boys". endurance is destroyed on her maiden voyage she was "a bride of the sea" but we FOUND HER my beautiful wife at the bottom of the weddell sea. shackleton and the lads sail 1300 km of the most dangerous water in the world in an open lifeboat and scale cliffs for five (?) days to find help and they DO and three months after they left, they return to the rest of the crew and nobody has fucking died. every single member of the expedition survived--albeit many after losing toes to frostbite and getting severe scurvy. just this once everybody lives!! also the shenanigans! shackleton told perce blackborrow that stowaways will get eaten first if it comes to that and sweet baby perce blackborrow said "there's more meat on your sir" and then everyone got along :) frank hurley and leonard hussey shoved handfuls of lentils in thomas orde-lees's open mouth when he wouldn't stop snoring. they named the cat mrs. chippy because it was obsessed with the carpenter (called "chippy") and now that cat's grave is decorated and cared for by people over a century later (also thank u mrs chippy for your sacrifice and also for naming MY mrs chippy <3). i have been debating writing an essay about the More Life of it all but especially all of frank hurley's photographs however it would come out as incomprehensible as this. my first month in china i missed my stop on the last metro of the night because i was detailing this expedition to my friends back home and i didn't have my mobile payment set up yet so i had to pay an exorbitant amount of money in cash for a taxi to go one (1) single kilometre

i mean, as tumblr user nedlittle, i am contractually obligated to say cold boy winter 4ever. 177 years ago, 128 men went missing in the arctic circle and as a result i have made friends for life <3. endlessly fascinating as a historical event and a classic example of imperialistic hubris those guys absolutely should not have been up there but they did and now a weird canadian identity has emerged as a result. i remember waking up to news that they found the wrecks and absolutely losing my mind

franklin adjacent doomed australian expeditions! a two-parter! so in 1861, the burke & wills expedition set off with a goal of crossing western australia from south-north and everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. 7 out of the 23 men died (wills perished either on my birthday or canada day) and only one guy made it across the continent and back to melbourne alive. beyond the fact that william john wills was the first cousin of erebus lieutenant h.t.d. "get in the soupp" le vesconte, there are a couple other similarities with franklin's expedition including death by scurvy, the food that they were eating was probably killing them (the early reports of lead poisoning with franklin; burke & wills ate seed bread after their rations ran out but depleted their thiamine levels and likely gave them beriberi because it probably wasn't prepared properly), relief efforts were sent but found little more than graves and bones, burke & wills tried to reach a place called mt. hopeless while the southernmost point any of franklin's men were known to reach was starvation cove on the adelaide peninsula. and THEN in 1874 another australian expedition led by ernest giles attempted to cross the deserts of western australia from east to west (looking at a map, they didn't go a very good job). the expedition was mostly fine except for one dude who straight-up vanished into the desert and was never seen again. that dude? alfred gibson, younger brother of terror steward william "breakup gone wrong" gibson

i didn't know a lot about the belgica before i read madhouse at the end of the world which was fantastic! everyone was having experience psychological terrorism as a result of antarctic isolation meanwhile motherfucker unlimited roald amundsen and scam king frederick cook were having the boys trip of the millennium. 19 men and innumerable rats. gentoo penguins are communists. tfw you almost shoot you doctor because you thought he was a seal

i am not as big of a fan of scott as some of my beloved mutuals but damned if i didn't devour the worst journey in the world. there are passages i think about daily. one time i was shivering really horribly during a migraine and all i could think of was that one passage where cherry talks about shivering so badly he thought his spine would snap. i am currently experiencing Cold and Wind and if i go outside...oh cherry we're really in it now

[amethiosspouse]

omg i made a toya yume (toya toya omg hes so pretty !!)

Name: Konran Kusanagi (older brother of Nene) Gender: Male Birthday: February 28 School: 2nd Year at Kamiyama High School (as of 3rd Anni.) Part time job: Works at Hot Topic and Sanrio interchangeably Hobbies: Overthinking Specialty: Potential Malewife material Favourite Food: Freeze Dried Candy Least Favourite Food: Mint Chocolate Dislikes: Akito

"I nearly broke Nene-Robo and as a result, my sister kicked me out of the house for a whole week. Talk about disrespectful." -Konran 2023

Personality and Backstory:

Konran is a quite an overbearing and controlling person. He also has severe trust issues as well as an inferiority complex. He is also known to throw a tantrum when things don't go his way causing his sister to question his maturity.

When he was younger, Konran was deeply affected with the fact that he and his sister had absent parental figures. He took it upon himself to be the parent figure his sister never had. Although he had good intentions, he didn't really execute it well. During the events prior to WxS forming, Konran grew more and more suspicious of his sisters friends, especially Rui. He saw his eccentricity as a form of danger in Nene's life.

During the first year of high school, Nene finally had enough and confronted Konran about his behaviour to which he denied being overbearing and that he only wanted what was best for her. This lead to a massive argument between the two which ened up with Konran breaking down in tears and apologising to his sister for everything he's done to her up to this point in time.

Konran really had good intentions but overtime it just sort of faded into paranoia (bug reference) of his only family disappearing in his life like his parents. As of the current timeline in the JPsekai story, Konran and Nene have a much healthier sibling bond.

Side note, due to Nene being a performer and a gamer, he tends to do all the household chores and all those menial tasks.

Obligatory "How he met Toya" section:

After the events of Close Game: Offline, Nene and Toya hung out more often meaning that Konran saw him around the house a lot more. At first, he was completely in denial about his feelings towards Toya and even our right saying that he'd never date a guy like Toya. But despite all his efforts on hiding it, a certain purple haired eccentric with weezer blue highlights found out.

(This is all I really have for this section, all I know is that his love life w Toya is a slowburn fwb with Konran being jealous of Akito and how close he is with Toya)

All those funky facts about Konran:

His name means chaos/dismay which is a contrast to Nene's name (her name means peaceful/quiet)

Konran is ambidextrous

He has an atrocious phase during middle school where he'd pretend to be "one of da boyzz" (ykwim)

Konran is secretly interested in gyaruo fashion

He like frogs, specifically the Red Eyed Tree Frog that's native to Australia

He has a dinosaur onsie thing that Toya got for him and he REFUSES to get it dirty/stained/damaged etc.

Overall, Konran is just a big brother who had good intentions but fucked up badly. He gets character development when Sega finally gives me a Toya 4 star /hj