#anyway this is about that time (after his party i think) he torn down an obsidian bridge and replaced it with logs

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Changes

What do you do when the person you once were becomes the person you miss being the most?

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, no smut in this I'm sorry pls still read it :( there's some tension tho!!

Length: 6.5k words

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"Thanks for picking him up." Taehyung sighs, his son happily in the living room, taking a nap from school as he tucks himself in on the couch while his favorite show plays on the TV.

"I would've asked her, you know, but I feel like I'm relying too much on her again." The young father sighs. "I'm basically treating her the same as I did years ago, just without the pay."

"I heard about that." Jungkook says, drinking his coffee at the kitchen table where he sits across Taehyung. "She used to nanny while you lived separately from your wife, I think it was." He hums, setting his cup down. Jungkook isn't on bad terms with Taehyung's wife- but he tends to not say her name, because he honestly harbors quite a bit of distaste towards the woman who refuses to properly take care of her own child.

"Well don't you seem to know a bit about her now." Taehyung squints his eyes in suspicion. "What happened to 'she's too young for me anyways' huh?" He teases, and Jungkook sighs.

"Well, things.. happened. And we talked." He shrugs. "We're not.. really a couple, but we agreed to spend time with one another." He explains.

"So you're friends with benefits?" He wonders, drinking his tea while Jungkook leans back.

"No." He shakes his head, even though deep down, it does kind of feel like that to him, now that he thinks about it a bit more. "It's.. a bit more complicated than that. We're simply talking, seeing where it goes." He says.

"Hmhm." Tae nods. "Just don't break her heart. I still got basically nightmares from her last relationship." He mumbles a bit angrily to himself, clearly a bit irritated even just by the thought of it.

"I.. wondered what happened." Jungkook says. "Dae said he was a drinker?" He wonders, and Taehyung nods.

"Drinker, druggie, abusive asshole." He huffs, crossing his arms. "It's the main reason she moved away when Daehyun was younger. She wanted to protect him- make sure he won't get hurt."

"Was he violent?" Jungkook wants to know, because honestly, he has a hunch that that might've been the case. Taehyung seems on edge now, clearly torn between probably saying the truth, and respecting your privacy. "I was intending to ask her anyways. But she seems like the type to downplay her problems in order to make things seem less serious, so I thought you might be more honest." He adds.

"Yeah, she is like that." Tae agrees softly. "I'm not too sure what exactly went down. But I do know that she.. distanced herself out of fear that Daehyun might get hurt." He tells his friend. "Greg started to pick her up every time she'd babysit Daehyun at my house, even after I told him I didn't like that. He still did, still argued, turned up drunk multiple times at my doorstep." The young father remembers. "I kept her with me, of course. I'd never let her drive home with that alcoholic- but I guess something must've happened because she just.. suddenly cut contact." He shrugs. "Sent me a text, changed her number, moved out her old apartment."

"When did she come back?" Jungkook wonders.

"According to Yoongi, a few weeks before the aftershow party." Taehyung responds.

"So that's why you didn't recognize her?" He figures, and Tae nods.

"She changed a lot. Not just visually. She's.." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. "..a lot more quiet. Cautious. Jumpy." He informs his friend. "And at the same time, she seems to mask a lot of it- get's irritated easily. She's trying to be who she was, but it's obvious that something changed, and whenever someone notices, she becomes defensive."

Jungkook doesn't really know what to think. Looking at Daehyun on the couch, he can absolutely understand your standpoint back then to get away from Taehyung's family in order to protect them- but that means there must have been at least some form of fear against your former partner to make you believe that he could potentially be a danger to the young boy and his father. It could also just be jealousy, of course- but Taehyung is right. You are a little odd sometimes.

And he doesn't know if he wants to know exactly why, or if he wants to let sleeping dogs rest.

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Jungkook leans back in his office chair, headache already almost too unbearable to him, especially considering the woman who's making her way up in the giant corporate building to see him.

She wants money again, he knows it. Evelyn only ever visits him if there's something she wants, after all.

"One might argue they'd know me by now." Evelyn huffs as she enters the office, hair a bit wet as she throws her coat over the chair in front of his desk, before she sits down. "How're you doing?" She wonders, and Jungkook doesn't look away from his laptop's screen whatsoever, still looking through his e-mails. He doesn't have to put too many thoughts into this conversation after all- she's most likely just here to leech off of him again.

"Cut it." He simply says. "What do you want?" He asks, phone on his desk vibrating and chiming with a new notification.

'I can just drop something off for you? I just got off work myself, so it's no hassle.' your message reads, an answer to a former rant from him about his headache, and the fact that he's 'locked in like a dog' in his office and without any proper food ever since this morning. It makes him softly smile a little, the fact that you want to bring him something to eat even though you're probably exhausted from your shift as well is something he's not used to. And he didn't even have to ask for it.

'Only if it's really not an issue for you' his answer reads, and you send a thumbs-up emoji as an answer, before you finish typing your proper answer.

'DW, is anything okay or do you want something specific?' you question, and he immediately types a response.

'Just whatever, really. Nothing too spicy though, please.' he offers, when a hand knocks on the table in front of him, the woman in his office dragging him back into reality with force. He signs, locks his phone before he puts it down, opening a chat with the front desk downstairs to let them know to bring you up when you arrive.

"You know, this was always the issue, Jungkook." Evelyn whines, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "You're so consumed by your work, it's crazy." She shakes her head.

"That wasn't work, actually." He bites back with a monotone voice, not really offering her any emotion whatsoever- there's nothing left in him anymore he could offer anyways. She took it all, sucked it out of him like an insect, and now she's constantly upset that he's empty inside.

"Anyways, I got this letter recently stating that there was an issue with the bank transfer?" She says, giving him the letter to read- which he does, flying over it just to remember why that bank transfer did not go through. "I told them that they'll get their money by friday." She hums, leaning her face on her palm while he gives her the letter back.

"What do I have to do with it then?" He asks, and she sits upright again, tilting her head a bit in irritation. "You said they'll get their money by friday. Good. Why are you here then?" He asks, arms crossed, office chair squeaking a bit as he leans back into it.

"Well, it's your bank account!" She laughs a bit unsure. "I don't even know why there was apparently not a sufficient balance on it." She argues.

"I resigned the automatic transfer rights." Jungkook tells her, face not moving an inch as he breaks the news. "The letter doesn't mention an insufficient balance at all, Evelyn. It states that there's no bank account set for the automated transfer option at all." He informs her.

"What the fuck Jungkook?!" She barks. "And you didn't even tell me?!" She yells, standing up to slap her hands on his desk. "You can't just make these changes and not inform me about it! Do you know how expensive that was?!" She accuses, and he shrugs, noticing something move behind her, milky glass front of his office hiding what's going on inside and outside, only letting shadows be seen if someone's close enough. "I'll text you the invoice later, and you better fucking pay, you asshole!" She says, when she whips her head around, someone opening the glass door.

"Thanks." You tell the office lady having let you in, before your eyes widen, door closing behind you and instantly drowning out all noise except the very slight sound of the fan in the corner of the room.

"Ah, there you are." Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter as he looks at you. "Come here- is it still raining a lot?" He wonders easily, taking the white plastic bag from you to set it on his table, before giving you a small hug to greet you. "I think that was all you wanted, wasn't it?" He asks Evelyn, who hasn't even gotten up from her seat, instead clearly studying you now.

"Actually, no." She tells him. "And it's kind of private, so it would be real nice if your assistant would leave." She tells you with a smile that reminds you of a snarling dog.

"Then come back a different day." Jungkook answers her however, offering to take your coat from you to hang next to his own on the wall close to the large windows. "Right now I'm really not in the mood for whatever it might be. Especially not with my girlfriend in the room." He bluntly says, and something seems to flash over her face at the mention of your alleged role in his life.

She slowly stands up to take her coat from the back of the chair, movements a lot slower now, a glare sent into your direction. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Evelyn tells you, slipping into the sleeves of her coat. "His first love will always stay his job." She almost threatens, before she takes her purse and leaves through the door, leaving a confused you, and a clearly exhausted Jungkook behind.

"Please, sit down." He offers, and you do so, watching how he leans back in his chair, hands running over his face before he sits up again. "I'm sorry. That timing couldn't have been worse." He sighs.

"Ah, here. Do you have water here?" You wonder, and he nods, pointing towards a water dispenser in the room. "Oh, fancy." You laugh, walking up to fill a cup to put in front of him. "I take them myself, they usually help really quickly. Not trying to murder you." You tease, and he chuckles, taking the medication and the cup for himself.

"Thank you, really." He sighs out before taking the pill, washing it down with half of the cup's contents before he closes his eyes for a moment. "God I hate her so much." He suddenly breaks out laughing, before he shakes his head, digging through what you've bought for him.

"I assume that was your ex wife?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I'm also really sorry for telling her you're my girlfriend when we haven't even talked about that yet." He tells you a bit.. shyly almost, while you pull the bag closer to take something out for yourself.

"It's fine." You shrug. "Got a nice ring to it, you know?" You joke, and he smiles, starting to eat.

It's quiet, but not oddly so. He enjoys this a lot, this company without any pressure, no eerie sense of something being about to happen. You're clearly here because you want to be, there's nothing you want from him, nothing you need, nothing you could gain from this. It's just what it is, nothing else, nothing to red between the lines.

"You can ask why she was here, by the way." He offers you, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

"I don't have to know." You say, however. "It's got nothing to do with me- right?" You ask, and he nods. "Then it's none of my business. You can rant to me about it, sure, but I can't really give you any opinions on it since I don't really know her, or the situation around you and her." You tell him.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, before he nods. "You're right." He agrees, letting go of the topic entirely for now. He know it's only fair to talk to you about it at some point- but right now is not the time for that, he decides. "Do you want me to drive you home later? I really only have to answer this one E-mail and then I can clock out." He tells you between bites, wiping his fingers before he taps away on his keyboard.

"If it's not a bother, sure." You shrug. "You said you got the weekend off, right?" You ask him, and he nods a bit absentmindedly. "Then how about you stay over?" You ask, and that definitely seems to catch his attention.

"Stay over?" He asks, just to make sure he heard it correctly, and you nod.

"Yeah." You nod. "It's, you know, what boyfriends do with their girlfriends." You tease, making him roll his eyes. "We could cook something, watch a movie. Oh, and one of the lightbulbs in my kitchen broke, so maybe you could fix that for me?" You chirp, and he suddenly smiles brightly to himself, clicking something on his laptop before he shuts it down. "What's that grin for, mister?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing, really." He tells you. "I'm just really happy." He confesses, and you smile the same, now a bit shy.

"Well, what's your answer then?" You wonder, watching him pack the leftovers back into the bag, before he walks to get both his and your jackets, helping you into yours.

"My answer is yes." He says, voice very close to your ear as he leans over your shoulder from behind you, hands on your arms for a second. "I'd love to stay over and fix that lightbulb too, of course.-"

"Since I heard that's what boyfriends do with their girlfriends."

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"There we go." He says, slowly climbing down the plastic kitchen chair you're holding onto just in case. "Anything else while I'm here?" He genuinely asks, and you shake your head, moving the chair back to the small kitchen table.

"No, that was all. Thank you, really." You say, before you move to open the fridge, taking out some things while he stands around with his hands in his pockets. Your apartment is pretty small- living in it together with you would most likely prove to be way too much, but he still thinks it's better than his own, in terms of.. quality.

His own home feels empty. There's nothing in it, it's way too big for a single person, and the view from so high up above the clouds has long lost it's charm to him.

He sits down at the kitchen table, leaning on it a little as he watches you wash some vegetables before you grab a cutting board and a knife. "Daehyun said you're a little lonely without your dog." He says, and you giggle a little, smiling to yourself. "Have you considered getting another one?" He wonders, but you just shrug.

"I'm too busy at the moment." You deny. "I used to bring him to work with me, since he was a very quiet and calm dog, which fit perfect into our office." You remember. "He'd always sleep under my desk, right on my feet. Always kept them warm." You softly say, and he notices that he might've struck a still hurtful topic if only from the sound of your voice becoming somewhat tighter.

"I can imagine. I always wanted a dog too-" He sighs, leaning back. "But.. Evelyn, the woman you saw today, she doesn't like them. So it was out of the question."

"Really?" You wonder, cutting up the vegetables. "I mean, I guess, if both of you were really busy then it probably was for the best." You hum, tension leaving you again. "Gotta look at the bigger picture."

"Yeah, maybe it was for the best." He agrees. To be honest, Evelyn would've probably fought over the dog as well, just like she did over the apartment, and other more petty things like fucking furniture. She wanted to ruin him, if financially then emotionally, and somehow, she somewhat did.

It's quiet again, when you, surprisingly to him, cut into a topic he did not expect.

"His name was Greg." You say, filling a small pot with water before you place it on the stove, turning it on. "You probably talked about him with Taehyung."

"I did." He admits. "But there's not much I know." He offers. "And like you said about my situation, I don't have to know about things that don't concern me. However-" He begins, getting up to now stand closer, find your gaze that's turned downwards onto the cutting board. "-I don't want to accidentally do something that might make you uncomfortable due to past experiences." He says.

"What a tactful way to ask me if I've got any trauma from that guy." You chuckle, moving to put the cut up vegetables in a bowl before you continue the preparations for dinner.

"I'm trying to be gentle here." He attempts to lighten up the mood, and you indeed smile at that.

"And I'm very thankful for that." You offer him, before you sigh, setting down the knife. "I don't.. think we're at a point where I should be dumping all of what happened onto you." You inform him, and he nods, accepting that. "I don't like yelling. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll probably try and get myself out of a situation by any means necessary-" you admit, turning a little to look at him. "-and that will probably include some nasty words thrown your way, if that get's you away from me." You tell him. "And I don't like alcohol. Even if you hand me full on medical evidence that you can't even get drunk, the moment I smell it- I just can't trust you." You say, and he nods.

"Alright, I respect that." He nods.

"I'll also get pretty clingy over time." You add on, making him nod. "And I can be annoying. I'll text you a lot." You continue, and a small smile sneaks itself onto his lips as he shrugs, crossing his arms. "The moment you invite me into your home I'll practically steal half of your closet contents-"

"Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you grow quiet, eyes avoiding him. "I'm obsessed with my work." He begins his own rant, standing up to walk closer to you. "I never have time for anything else. I'm boring. Sometimes rude, and immature. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also lazy. I snore, and I work out too much to the point where I'm sweating buckets. I'm a little messy." He tells you, hugging you from behind, though not very intimately- giving you a clear way out if you so want to.

"…is that what she told you?" You answer, and he smiles.

"Let's just agree on getting to know each other just the way we are, not the way someone else described us in the past." He offers, and you nod.

"Alright." You hum, before you push him a little playfully. "Now go and let me cook in here, boyfriend." You tease, making him grin impishly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he does not walk away from behind you, hands now flat on your ass. "Hey!"

"What? I'm out of your way like this." He tells you almost innocently, hands moving to hold your waist now.

"Sit down there and let me cook!" You laugh.

"But we wanted to cook together, no?" He wonders. "Like.. boyfriend and girlfriend." He leans his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, boyfriends let their girlfriends cook in peace." You threaten, making him chuckle as his fingers squeeze your hips a bit.

"Not if their girlfriend is this attractive." He purrs, making you roll your eyes.

"Jungkook…" You wonder, suddenly way more serious, making his stand up straight again so you can face him. "Is.. that what we are now?" You ask, and his lips part for a second, unsure of his own answer. "I mean, it's fine if we're just playing around. Just.. I'm scared that we might end up in some.. unnecessary drama down the line if we're blurring the lines too much without properly discussing things first." You say.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you sigh.

"What if you end up calling me.. your girlfriend just as a joke? But I start believing it at some point- thinking we are something serious when we're not. Or the other way around." You explain. "I don't want us to get hurt again. Neither of us."

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and from this close proximity, you can make out two odd dots near his bottom lip you're not too sure of. You might ask him about them some other time.

"Let me take time off of work. Next week, three days." He offers, catching you off guard. "Let's go on a trip. Together. Someplace no one knows us, and we don't know either." He tells you.

"I mean- I would've had friday and the weekend off anyways but-"

"Okay, great, perfect. I'll cancel my Friday meetings." He tells you, hands moving- at first, they seem to attempt to hold your cheeks- but it's like that feels too intimate yet, so he settles for your shoulders. "Let's get to know each other. The real you and me that got.. buried at some point." He offers.

"Why on a trip?" You ask.

"Because it's perfect." He chuckles. "Close proximity of the hotel room we'll share, stress of navigating the unfamiliar environment, the tension of not being able to just 'escape' any uncomfortable situation right away forcing us to talk things out as they happen-" He begins, and your mouth shapes an 'o' as you realize what he's talking about.

"It's a stress-test." You say, and he nods, grinning.

"Exactly." He nods.

"…to be honest you're already stressing me out." You jokingly reply-

Jungkook laughing, and you have a feeling he's not done that in a long time, with the way his ears turn red and his hand covers his mouth in embarrassment of that outburst.

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When Taehyung opens the door, he instantly greets his son who Jungkook has put down the moment he'd noticed the young father arriving at the front door to let him in.

"Oh wow." Taehyung laughs as Jungkook walks in, almost nervously running a hand through his hair. "Is the world ending? Apocalypse? Or am I high?" He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes. "No, seriously! I didn't even know you could still put those piercings back in!" He laughs, taking Dae's school backpack to take out his lunchbox so he can sort out the leftovers and wrappers from his snacks.

"It was a bit tricky, I won't lie." He laughs a little. "But they didn't really close all that much since I had them for so long, so it wasn't a big deal." He shrugs.

"What's the occasion?" Tae wonders, throwing the wrappers of Daehyun's snacks in the trash. "You most certainly don't look like you're gonna go to a meeting like that. What happened to 'I'm not in my twenties anymore' huh?" He jokes.

"I'm honestly not sure." He answers, hands in the pockets of his pants. "Just.. felt like it. And I'm not going to the office- I took time off." He confesses.

"Okay, are you running a fever?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook laughs to himself. "Are you gonna meet up with your.. friend?" He air-quotes, and Jungkook nods, checking the silver watch on his wrist.

"Yeah- we're meeting up later, she's currently packing her things last thing she texted me." He nods. "Our flight is in about three hours from now, but it's her first time flying, so we wanted to be there a bit early just in case." Jungkook shrugs.

"Oh, fancy." Taehyung laughs. "Why though?" He wonders, washing the colorful lunchbox of his son in the sink.

"Stress testing." Jungkook offers. "We just want to see if we can handle each other under pressure." He says, and Taehyung sighs.

"My god Jungkook, can you just once try and not make everything more complicated than it has to be?" He worries. "Just spend time with her. Go out for a coffee or something, watch a shitty movie at home and let her suck you off during the commercial break or something, you know, like NORMAL people!" He whines. "You're acting as if this is some million-dollar business discussion. It's really not." He huffs out in frustration. "Listen, I know Eve fucked you over bad, and honestly you've always had a shit-taste in women to begin with because holy fuck if I think back to Lucy-"

"Can you get to the point?" Jungkook complains, a little embarrassed as his friend brings up his admittedly terrible dating history.

"-yeah, sorry." He laughs. "But, trust me-" Taehyung says, drying his hands before he puts them on his friend's shoulders. "-she's honestly perfect for you. Once you help her get her confidence back up, trust me, you've got yourself someone who's not a raging cunt for once." He finishes his rant, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"You think?" He worries, and Taehyung nods.

"I do." He says, patting his friend's back before he leads him to his front door. "Be yourself. And I mean, your real self. Be that goofy dude who cries during disney movies and folds his laundry to Depeche Mode at 3 am."

"Why would I do that?" Jungkook cringes, thinking his friend is joking- but he's surprised to find Taehyung with a soft gaze instead, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"Because that's the Jungkook I know." He offers, a somber look on his face.

"And I miss him."

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"Let me take that." He offers, taking the suitcase from you. It's small, scratched up, and he can't help but notice the stickers on it. "You good to go?" He wonders, and you nod, closing the door before locking it, walking next to him out the apartment building towards his by now familiar car, his own luggage already in the trunk where he puts yours now as well.

The moment you sit next to him inside, is when you notice how.. different he is today. Not only from looks alone- but it feels different, oddly enough. Lighter. Not as serious as he usually is. "I wondered what those.. spots were." You say, looking at him from the passenger side, and he raises his brows while stopping at a red light, turning his head towards you, who points to your own lower lip.

"Ah, yeah." He chuckles, a bit bashful. "I.. got them done in my early twenties. Took them out though, because.. I don't know." He shrugs.

"You don't know, of do you just realize that the reason was stupid?" You giggle, and he sighs, with a smile on his lips however.

"Caught me." He confesses, changing lanes as he makes his way to the airport.

"Why'd you put them back in?" You ask, leaning against the car door a bit.

"Because I wanted to be myself." He explains. "I.. like I said. I want you to get to know me. And not the person I became to please others around me." He tells you.

"I assume your.. ex wife didn't like the piercings?" You ask, testing how far you can pry into his past and how much you can poke until he tells you off. But much to your surprise, he seems rather unfazed by the topic.

"She hated my tattoos as well. Wanted me to get them removed constantly." He chuckles, and you're intrigued.

"You've got tattoos as well?" You ask, and he nods.

"Maybe I'll let you see them later?" He flirts, and you grin to yourself, adjusting your legs a little as you stay quiet. "Either way, Evelyn didn't like a lot about me."

"Then why did she marry you?" You ask, noticing too late how mean that question could come off.

"Probably for my bank account." He simply laughs. "I was.. stupid. I thought she was fixing me." He shakes his head. "I thought she only had my best interest in mind." He says, setting his turn lights to enter the airport parking area. "But she always hated me. Still does." He sighs, searching for a proper parking spot.

"Well, I don't hate you." You tell him.

"Yet." He mumbles, before he finally parks the car, turning off the engine. "Do you have your passport and everything on hand? Don't wanna have to unpack everything in a rush later at check-in." He tries to change the topic, but you look at him with eyes so soft that he becomes scared of them.

"Jungkook." You say his name, and he hates how kind it sounds. "As long as you're not like him, I won't hate you. Honestly, I don't even hate him." You tell him, and he nods a bit stiffly, before practically escaping the car, instead putting on his jacket before helping you take out your suitcase and handbag.

Inside the airport, he notices your nervousness, hand constantly reaching out but never holding on to him at all, in any way. It makes him chuckle a little as he watches you fight with yourself for quite a while, before he helps you check in.

You're clearly a bit overstimulated by everything going on around you, looking around anxiously, biting the inside of your lips constantly, even as you both sit down to wait for your gate to open for boarding. "Hey-" He reaches out to tug your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before he smiles in reassurance. "Okay?" He wonders, and you nod, though you're not looking at him. "Come here. You can hold onto me, by the way, if that helps you." Jungkook suggests, and you move your arms to wrap around one of his, body scooting closer to lean your face against his shoulder, sweater soft against your skin. He moves his arm around your shoulders to keep you closer, hand offering itself for you to hold instead, and you do so, fingers cold. "What's that scar?" He wonders, thumb running over a faint scar over the palm of your hand.

"A shoelace." You say, a little quietly.

"A shoelace?" He repeats, and you nod.

"Yeah." You confirm. "I had.. I was in the midst of changing the laces of.. Gregory's boots, because the dog had chewed them. But he got mad anyways, and pulled them out of my hand." You remember. "It happened really quickly, but I remember that it hurt badly." You chuckle. "It was an odd pain. Like my body couldn't decide whether or not I was burned or cut."

Jungkooks hand on your shoulder starts to move a little in a soothing motion, fingers circling around. It's his first confirmation that something did indeed happen, and he's almost convinced that what you just told him was probably not an isolated incident, but simply one of many that went down during your entire relationship.

"I didn't want him to get mad at Yogi. He already hated the poor dog enough." You sigh, closing your eyes as you settle against Jungkook's side. He enjoys this close proximity, the domestic feel of this moment, even though it's out in public and for everyone to see. He doesn't care.

"You can heal with me, you know?" He says, and you look up at him from where you're leaning against his body. "I can't promise you that.. our time spent will be all smooth sailing, but I can assure you that it will be nothing like what you've experienced." He hums towards you.

And you smile warmly, sighing. "Don't worry-" you giggle, closing your eyes.

"-It already is."

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The hotel room is spacious, expensive looking, nothing like you've seen before.

Usually, you only really get to see things like these on vacation photos your friends show you- you yourself don't really travel, you technically don't take time off at all, rather always asking to have your off-days paid out instead if possible. You've got no reason to treat yourself with anything, be it time off or a full on vacation.

Your sense of self worth has shriveled up like rotten fruit over the years, now thrown out like the garbage it is.

Jungkook meanwhile clearly has a routine in him, as he walks through every room first to check if everything's okay, just to then place his bag somewhere near the bed, a big yawn escaping him as he opens the balcony door wide, letting the air of the seaside in. It's odd to see him dressed rather casual, simple but expensive sweater stretching over his broad back. His face still shows the clear stress he's accumulated, and it makes you wonder.

"Do you.. go on vacations often?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No, usually I only fly out for business trips." He explains, watching you sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "I originally thought I should book two single beds, by the way. I just.. thought it might be more intimate like this." He tells you, leaning against the small balcony's edge outside, glass door open, as the wind blows through the curtains a little.

"It's okay like this." You nod, making him smile softly.

"Do you want to rest a little?" He asks, and you shrug, unsure. You only have three days- if you sleep now, it's probably annoying to him since he most likely planned something on this trip for you both to do. He at least comes across as someone who likes to have everything set out and structured- not like you, who dives in head first without any real plan. You don't want him to stay hidden inside the hotel room just because you're tired from the flight. "Hey." He asks, and you didn't even notice him squatting down in front of where you sit, his hands on your knees as he finds your eyes from where he's looking up at you. "Don't hesitate to speak your mind. If we want this to work, we need honestly, first and foremost." He encourages, and you nod.

"I'm tired- but I don't want to be boring." You worry.

"How would taking a nap be boring?" he chuckles. "I'm actually glad you're tired. I didn't want to come off as an old man who needs a break because he can't keep up." He laughs, standing up before he moves to lay down on the bed, patting the spot right next to him.

You lay down where he wordlessly suggested, taking in a deep breath while focusing your eyes on the collar of his sweater for a moment. It's when your gaze roams around that you notice something poke out on his wrist as he turns back around from removing his watch from the other arm. Your fingers curiously lift the fabric of the sleeve, making him chuckle quietly, before he moves to push the fabric up to his elbow, exposing different colors of ink underneath his skin.

What was Jungkook like when he was younger? Has he always been somewhat like this- or has he changed into this instead?

"Got them done in my early twenties too." He explains quietly. "Just.. lineart at first. Black and white." Jungkook remembers as he watches you trace some of the lines with your finger. "Then it got more. Over time, it looked a little messy- so I added color to it, this time actually going to a professional who specifies in forming sleeves." He tells you.

"Do you regret them?" You wonder. "Like.. your piercings and your tattoos?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"It's not like I regret them." He denies. "I still like the look of them. The aesthetic of it. It's just.." He sighs, inked hand turning around palm up, and you put your own on top of his, making him move to compare your hand sizes palm to palm. "..they don't feel like me anymore." He shrugs.

"Maybe because they aren't." You offer, now holding his hand with both of yours, your eyes on the blurred ink underneath the skin. "Maybe.. you changed. Even though you didn't want to."

He did. He knows that he did- but what he struggles with, is the question if he can even go back now. He wants to, but at this point, he feels like he's crossed that line by now, too far to step back and take a different path. Most people around him nowadays only now this Jungkook, not the one he used to be. If he just reverts back to who he once was, will he lose every friendship and connection he's made after he married?

Marriage. The moment he changed.

Love can make someone truly blind to a lot of things. He overlooked so many warning signs, pushed old friends and even family away just because they saw what he did not- or more so refused to. He's not spoken to his own parents in years, by now too ashamed to admit that he'd been wrong for the entirety of his past relationship, that his mother was right about her. What would she think about you?

She'd like you, he's very sure about that. His father would probably be a little suspicious of the age gab, and his brother would most likely tease the living daylights out of him, but he knows you'd fit right in. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? What would they think of him?

He wants to ask you, but the moment he becomes aware and snaps out of his thoughts, your eyes are already closed, breathing even. You're still holding onto him, and he realizes that he's never actually had a moment like this with Evelyn in the past, not even when they were just a regular couple, and definitely not after they got married. He feels.. free. No pressure on him, no obligations awaiting him, nothing needed or expected from him. You're simply sleeping, and yet the act itself makes his pride swell, because of your display of trust towards him.

He knows you've been hurt. He knows that he's been hurt-

And maybe, just maybe, together, you can finally begin heal.

Change once more, for a final time, into a happier version of yourselves.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

[rodolfoparras]

Hi! I just have to know… what are your thoughts on Makarov/Price, or just Price with a very intense and feisty partner 👀

Oh my god friend I loved this question but Istg every time I went to answer it I ended up with a response in the form of a book so I’m doing my best to stick to bullet points

Anyways I present to you Price with a very intense / feisty reader

First and foremost I want to note that Price isn’t docile himself, he feels rather strongly and sometimes acts impulsively but he’s learned to handle it throughout the years.

However when he first enlisted , fresh faced and ready to conquer the injustices of the world, higher ups saw these attributes as something to take advantage of so that they did.

Back then he didn’t see that, he was just happy that there were people in power willing to listen and willing to help him and while he got his hands dirty and went against everything he stood for, the higher ups stayed back home while offering simple promotions for his dirty work.

Since Price rose so fast in ranking, he probably attended many private parties and banquets organized by the army, and at one of those events he was bound to meet his future s/o

Back then he’d met you because he’d snuck out the event, had felt suffocated by the crowd and went outside to smoke.

There you were leaned up against the wall and offering him your cigarette

He swiftly takes it, while discreetly giving you a once over, noting you must be a soldier but not one attending this specific event for whatever reasons.

“Party that boring eh?” You say, noting the suit on him and the gloomy look on his face,

“You can say that” he says before taking a drag of the cigarette. “I’m not much of a party person actually” he says, taking another drag before passing the cigarette back to you.

“Yet you attended this one “‘you say with a smile on your face while exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Didn’t have a choice” Price shrugs watching tobacco smoke swirl around in the dark sky.

“Says who?” You say, passing the cigarette back to him.

“The party’s for me” Price says, lip curling in disdain.

You feel your eyes widen at his words, attention now fully on him rather than the tobacco.

“Oh now you’ve got me curios”

“Just a promotion, nothing special” he says, lips now curling into a small smile

“Nothing special eh what is it? Captain?”

“Lieutenant”

“You’re right, doesn’t sound special at all” you snort and he laughs along with you

Just as you’re about to say something else you see someone waving him over.

“Looks like someone’s calling for you -“

“Price”

“I’ll see you around Lieutenant price “ you say with a smile on your face, snuffing out your cigarette before walking away.

The next time he sees you, is when you’re being reprimanded for your behavior and he’s in charge of your punishment. It had been a minor offense but had resulted in you having to run laps in the rain. However when you had arrived in front of him he had quickly released you off of it.

“A merciful lieutenant who’d think that?” You say with a smile on your face.

“Don’t see a point of you just running around in the rain, join me instead?” He says with a smile on his own while waving a cigarette in the air.

As you sit down and smoke, he finds out that many times you’ve ended up being reprimanded for your behavior but that they haven’t kicked you out yet since you’re a very good soldier.

However he cant seem to comprehend why you keep getting yourself in trouble and you don’t give him a clear answer to that question either.

“Just remember while our hands get dirty someone else’s stay clean, I’ll see you around lieutenant Price”

After that you continue to bump into each other and every time you do, it’s because you’re in some trouble and Price is the one to get you out of the punishment. He’s still torn between being loyal to the higher ups and accepting the fact that they’re using him as a pawn in their own little games .

However he ends up making a decision when you get in trouble despite having done nothing wrong. You’re sent to your room and ordered to attend a disciplinary meeting. Price tries to reason with the higher ups, but they aren’t listening and in that very moment he realizes that these people don’t care about doing the right thing. They care about having power and controlling their subordinates

Feeling frustrated about the situation, and also feeling deeply worried for you, he decides to go and see you.

For someone who risks losing their entire career you look calm as ever, opening the door with a soft smile on your face.

“Lieutenant” you say while gesturing for him to come in

“Price” he subconsciously correct while walking inside.

“So what brings you here? Not that I’m opposed to it or anything.”

“Just wanted to see if you’re alright after everything that happened today”

“Oh that?”You wave him off before patting down the pockets of your coat that hangs on the wall, and pull out a pack of cigarettes.

You quickly light one up and pass it to him, before gesturing for him to sit down on your bed with you.

“You’re not worried that you’ll get kicked out?” He says, taking a drag of the cigarette before passing it to you.

You chuckle in response, putting the cigarette between your lips before you go to respond “not really, maybe I’d be if I still were a recruit but now? Not so much?”

“Why?” He says watching you exhale the smoke into the air before his eyes fall onto your lips, the way they pucker up to release the smoke, before falling back into a natural pout.

“I don’t know if you’ve realized it yet but they don’t give a shit about us here”

“I’m starting to” he says, eyes still locked on your lips, noting the way they’re curling up into a grin.

“Good” is all you say, “now if that’s all you wanted to say I suppose we’re done here unless..” you trail off, voice going lower as you lean closer to him.

For a second his eyes widen, body freezing in place. You continue to lean in closer until there’s only a cloud of smoke between you, serving as a barrier.

“Im- I -“ he tries to speak but his brain isn’t cooperating with his mouth. Instead he focuses on the way you lick your lips before you speak.

“If you don’t want this tell me to stop and I’ll-“ but before you can say more he grabs ahold of your neck and smashes your lips together, leaving you wide eyed and gasping before your eyes flutter shut and you lose yourself into the kiss

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you” he says looking like a whole sight with the sheets draped over his waist while lounging on your bed.

“No I’ll be fine” you say while shrugging on your shirt. “You stay here, I’ll be back soon” you add, eyes trailing over his naked body and feeling blood pool down to your lower half.

“Okay “ he says biting down on his lips before sinking back into the sheets .

You return quickly just like you had promised, and Price keeps his own promises by staying in your bed.

He stays there all day and for many more years to come. However the two of you don’t become anything official until much later on seeing as he’s focusing more on his career than having a relationship.

But in between those years of waiting you become a close companion of his as well as someone who knows his body better than anybody else in this world. You taught him to not let people take advantage of him and to do what he thinks and feels is right. He’s still loyal to some degree to those above him solely for the reason that they sometimes can come in hand. However Price wouldn’t let anyone dull your spark. He’d always aim to make sure that you get to stay true to yourself even if that means getting into a fight with his squad because you’re getting on the teams nerves with your temper, or making it clear that you are to be as respected as he is even though you don’t have some fancy title to go with your name

You work seamlessly together so much so people will come up to him and tell him “keep your dog on a leash” referring to the way you’re hovering behind Price and barring your teeth. But Price’s lips would only curl up into a smile before he responds with “it’s not him you have to worry about” because even though he’s learned to bite his tongue in order to keep important pawns on his chess board, he’d bite anyone’s neck off if they were to disrespect you.

#Jesus Christ this became a whole book half way in I had to wrap it up bc I’ve been sitting with this all day just bc I didn’t have a simple #answer pls 😭 #anyways thank you sm for asking me sugar I love love love questions like these #have a wonderful day and thank u for the amazing price art u make #alec answers #call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #price x male reader #price x reader #x male reader #male reader

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Summer Sunkisses - Steve Harrington

In which Steve’s girlfriend meets the kids for the first time

Warnings:

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

not part of the upcoming Steve series

Y/N was beyond anxious. It would be her first time meeting Steve’s “children” that he claimed to be his own.

The school year had just ended for the high schoolers and he was throwing a pool party at his house. Pretty much everyone was invited. The kids, his friends who came home from college, he invited a few of Y/N’s friends too just in case she became too overwhelmed with all of the new people.

Now, she was standing in his room, a pink and orange floral bikini paired with her skin. She held one of Steve’s white buttons ups to use as a cover up between her fingers. The material was soft under her fingers but that feeling was ignored because of the stinging on her bottom lip. She’d torn off a piece of skin with her teeth. She was looking down at the pool where people sat along the edge with drinks and food. The younger kids all sat around two lawn chairs with their own food and drinks goofing off.

“Hey beautiful, you ready to go down?” Steve asked when he walked into the room.

She turned around and inhaled deeply. “Uh…” She bit her lip again.

Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, baby you’re just prettier than a rainbow.” She smiled and walked closer as he did. His arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her hips into him. “What’s the matter?” He asked after studying her face.

Y/N studied his right back, the freckles of summer dotting his cheeks. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He gave her a bored look. “I know you, honey. C’mon spill it.”

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’m nervous to meet them.” Steve tilted his head and kissed her cheek.

“My friends? Baby, there’s nothin’ to be worried about.” He sweeped a piece of hair behind her ear.

She nodded. “No, Steve. The kids! You said that a few of them are really hard to get on their good side and I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a very awkward person when it comes to new people and they’re not gonna like me too much and”Steve’s smile made her stop rambling. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” He nodded. She rolled her eyes. “Listen, you’re perfect to me. And no doubt will the others think the same.”

The corners of her lips turned up as he softly grabbed her face and kissed her. He tasted like cherry popsicles and lemonade. “Now, come on. You’re awfully dry.” He chuckled. She smiled and let him take her hand to lead her out of the house.

When they got to the pool, the music was loud, the people were loud too. She smiled at the people who greeted Steve, they nodded at her, some introduced themselves.

Then they made there way over to where the kids were sitting. Her grip on Steve’s hand tightened and they all stopped what they were doing and looked up at the two. “Whoa.” The one who she assumed was Dustin breathed out.

Steve glared. “Henderson, I swear to God.” He shook his head. “Everyone this is my girlfriend, you’ve all heard—“

“Yeah, because you talk about her 25/8, Steve.” A girl with red hair, Max, spoke with a smile. She stood up and introduced herself. “I’m Max.” She held her hand out and Y/N shook it. She introduced herself properly.

The other girl smiled with her hand in Mike’s. “Hello, I’m El.” She looked at the boy next to her. “This is Mike, my boyfriend.”

She smiled and waved awkwardly. Will introduced himself with a soft smile. Lucas did too.

Dustin stood up, hands on his hips and a what he thought was charming smile. “I’m Dustin. I must say, I have no idea how Steve managed to woo you because you are gorgeous and look at him—“

“Yeah, you’re on paper thin ice, buddy.” Steve kissed his teeth. The girl next to him giggled and shook her head. “Anyway, you little shits have a good last day of school?” It was yesterday when they all became Sophomores.

They all nodded and they fell into a conversation and Steve mischievously looked around with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend was still talking to the kids. He noticed that she still had on his button up. He slowly took it off of her somehow without her noticing.

She then felt the burning heat of the sun on her shoulders and suddenly Steve’s arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her off the ground. She squealed, a smile on her face as he neared the pool. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, Steve—“ She scream when he jumped into the pool with her held against him.

When she was submerged into the water, his grip never loosened. Once they stopped going down, she opened her eyes. The chlorine stung at first but she saw his blurry smile. In slow motion he leaned forward and kissed her. She didn’t care that her lungs were screaming for air.

Her legs wrapped around him as he swam up and broke the surface. The sound of the laughter and music started up again and she smoothed her wet hair back out of her face as she giggled. “You’re in trouble, mister.”

“What? I told you that you were awfully dry.” He shrugged with a sultry smirk. She rolled her eyes and gave him another kiss.

People all around whooped and hollered. Her face burned as she pulled away. “How hard was meeting the kids?” He asked.

She reluctantly shrugged. “It wasn’t.”

Steve nodded. “See, I told you. You’re perfect. They love you.”

She giggled. “Especially Dustin.”

“That little shit is gonna try to steal you from me before summer’s out I swear.”

—————————————————

Ahh okay something different! This is kinda nerve racking bc I haven’t ever written for Steve! I hope you liked this and let me know if you want more like this!

Also, the next chapter of Sick Surprise is in the works so don’t worry!

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#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x fem!reader

[writersundersiege]

The New Girl in Town Pt 5

Rafe Cameron x F! Reader

a/n: Woah, okay, so this one is a little longer. One, it’s formatted differently; it gives you more perspective of what’s happening. Also, I’m trying to follow Rafe's season one character arc and overall story, knowing now you guys are enjoying the series. I know where I want to go now, but if you guys don’t like how long this is, let me know, and I’ll free-write it and go based on my arc for him and the characters, not on canon events. Please let me know what you think; much love and enjoy!

Summary: The hurricane has hit the Outerbanks, and with a storm that’s torn up Kilandre, emotions seem to be on high. Rafe is still trying to recover from you walking out without saying anything to him. In contrast, you prepare to attend your first Boneyard Kegger. What happens when everything goes wrong? Who do you call when there is no one else to turn to in your town? Will anyone show up when you need them?

MDNI 18+

Warnings: Storms, grief, death, insinuation of sexual themes, violence, weapons, swearing, drug use, and drug abuse, as well as some slight talks of addiction.

After receiving a text, Rafe sits up thinking about yesterday, and his eyes widen, thinking only of the generators now. He scrambles to text a few of his Kook friends to see if anyone can help a man out when Kelce speedily responds that he’s got him; no worries and was planning on dropping by with Topper anyway for Sarah, but they’ll come to help him first.

Half an hour later, Topper and Kelce are helping Rafe quickly set up a generator, but little does he know you are just around the corner because the day before, Scooter had helped the Cameron family storm prep for their boat. Still, before going to Tannyhill, Scooter had helped Charlie prep The Hut since it was your dad's first big hurricane.

Ward was cleaning up fallen tree branches when he heard his name called out, “Hello, Mr.Cameron.” he looked up to see a girl he didn’t know with a worrisome look on your face and holding Lana, Scooter's wife, gently rubbing her shoulder. Ward stood to be able to see you both fully.

Ward quickly leads Lana to Sarah, and you let her know you’ll wait out front to take her wherever she may need to go; she shakes her head and walks off with Ward. As you stand to wait, one of the yard workers takes his opportunity to saunter toward you and strike up a conversation.

Little to your knowledge from below, but standing on the edge of the balcony near the side of the house were Rafe and his friends looking down on you as you laughed and conversed with the boy, probably a few years older than you.

As Rafe watched you in pure bliss, seeming to enjoy the conversation between you, he felt himself brimming with annoyance when suddenly, your head quickly wiped to the front door not far from the boys standing on the balcony just below them to the side.

The three boys watch as you abandon the ongoing conversation with the yard worker boy to take the spot right at Lana’s shoulder; this makes Rafe smirk, watching the boy's displeased face watch you.

Heedlessly to the boy, you walk with Lana back to the road, patting her back and smiling softly at her; they can’t make out what exactly you’re saying, but they all equally watch as you disappear, as usual, into the horizon line, taking a glimpse of the sunlight in your wake until you randomly appear again.

The rest of the day, Rafe didn’t see or hear from you, but he assumed, with how bad the storm was and all the cleanup, that you had other worries than explaining running out on him.

Technically, he’s nothing more than another boy on the new island you call home. These thoughts make him unsound and intolerable. So he glances at the sea momentarily, wondering if you are also glancing at the rolling waves.

Rafe had been doing meaningless things to fill the time; he received a few texts from friends and past hooks-ups about the kegger at the boneyard and another party not too far from Top’s House, and Rafe didn’t want to go to either; he sat and thought for a while, and he then decided to grab some coke from Barry, and then he’ll head out to ride his bike around and clear his head or play a round of golf at the Country Club.

By the time Rafe got ready to waste time, he had thought about maybe stopping by the boneyard; he knew if it were a kegger, there would be pogues swarming that place, and they always picked with shit they didn’t want in the end. He shakes his head, knowing it is ridiculous to want to go even if you are there.

It was about midday when he went downstairs, and he heard Rose and Ward talking; he rounded the kitchen corner to them, shaking their heads. “What happened?” Rafe frowns, looking at his father for more information. “Scooter Grubbs has been found dead. He was out during the hurricane; his boat went down, and he was washed into the marsh.”

Rafe checked his phone immediately to see if there was anything from you, and nothing, just a bunch of messages from Emma asking when they could see each other again; this made Rafe roll his eyes. He continued grabbing a drink from the fridge, stuffing it in his bag, heading out to the garage, and taking out his bike to head to the Cut.

On the other side of the island, you and your family had a considerable hoard of people at your house accepting water bottles and non-perishable foods at a table in your yard with your parents.

At the same time, you sat in the back of the house with Lana Grubbs, who you’ve just returned with from the marina who just lost her husband. You sit slowly, rubbing up and down her upper back, not saying anything; slow resounds of what seems to be Sparks by Coldplay are playing in the surround sound house speakers, most likely through your mom's playlist.

You don’t say anything; what do you say to her? You’ve also lost someone to those raging waves in front of you, watching with her as its tide pulls it up to shore and back out into the sea off to who knows where.

The situation you have both been through has no words to say, so you sit and listen to the music playing through the sound system, humming lightly and listening to the small crash of waves.

You think about Luca, how he never failed to be there precisely when you needed him. Without fail, if something inspired you to make something or do something new, Luca would show up with everything you needed to create what you envisioned. If you so much as thought you were bored, he was knocking at your front door asking to take you to laser tag, the movies, or on beach picnics. The day you turned fifteen, he asked you to be his Valentine.

Luca also made a tradition that year of getting you flowers on the 14th day of every month; he was always cheesy and would say, why should he only show his love one day in the year? But he did every 14th day of every month for nearly four years.

The only thing that broke you from the reminiscent thoughts of a boy you’ll never get the joy of loving again is the slight creaking of the door frame; you turn to see your brother's sad, smiling face.

 “Hey, Kiddo, I’ve got to head to the airport. I’m taking Dad and the car. I just wanted to check on you girls to see if you’d like to head home or maybe the place they may have Scooter and see if they’ll let you see him. Mom called your sister, so she’s said to let her know, and she’ll meet you wherever you are.”

Lana’s head pops up, eyes completely bloodshot, looking between you and your brother, eyes resting tenderly on you, reaching to brush a piece of your (H/C) hair out of your eyes and turning to your brother, shaking her head to your brother, “I think I need to go home for a little while” She stands and starts to fold the blanket you had tossed over her shoulders when you came in.

Swiftly, you grab it from her, coaxing her towards Jason, whose hand is laid open; she looks back and forth between you two. “You two are an extraordinary pair of kids,” Jason chuckled, bringing his hand out a little further until she accepted it, and he wrapped her hand around his opposite arm to walk her out. Quietly, he told Lana, “We’re only doing what we hope others would do for us.”

Before she walked out, you called out, “Mrs. Lana!” she and Jason turned to you. You smiled sadly and said, “I hope you know you’re always welcome here for any reason, and thank you for allowing me to be there for you.”

Quickly, she walked forward to you, more tears in her eyes as she hugged you, saying, “Oh sweet girl, I hope someone gives you the world one day.” then she turned back to Jason and started walking out. Jason watches you in his perephislas to see you smile sadly while looking at the sea.

He knows where your mind is again. He turns towards Lana and quickly leads her to Charlie, standing just outside by the Impala. Charlie sees the look in Jason’s eyes as he takes her hand to help her in the car, sending his son a slight nod, and he turns on his heel and runs right back to you on the couch.

When Jason reenters the room, he sees you right where he left you. He quickly picks you up from your sitting position on the couch in a big hug, making you laugh; you go utterly limp in his arms, but hanging your arms around his neck, he sets you down.

Jason puts his hands on your shoulders, looking you straight in the eyes and giving you his this is serious look. “I love you, Kiddo, always okay. You need me. I’ll be on a plane the next day, but take the mantra and make it real (N/N); ride the wave, okay?” with that, he kisses the top of your head and runs out of the house before you can say anything, but now you sit smiling at the waves until your phone pings with a text.

Sarah 🎀🦋: Hey, want to come over and get ready with me? Then you can ride with Kelce?

(F/N)🗺️☀️: Sure, I think I remember him from when I moved in. I’ll be over in about 15. I am going to make a little to-go bag to get ready.

You run up the stairs to your door, throwing it open and digging under your bed for an old black Jansport backpack. In years past, it was used for traveling, so there were patches and pins from countless cities, airports, countries, and historic monuments.

One thing about your family is that traveling is what has made you the way you are. Your mother is a Historian; she is constantly looking for discoveries, a go-getter who never gives up, and she is strong; she can be your saving grace, but she can be your nightmare if you make her.

Then there is your sweet father, who by most people's accounts can be considered as any other clean-cut, white-collar businessman, but your dad loves people and human communication; he’s a charmer or character; he’s the type of man that you can take anywhere, and he is the life of the party. His whole life, he was told he could charm the pants off a dolphin, and he’s shown that time and time again.

Traveling has been a part of your life for as long as you can remember; with two people of your parent's personality, there was no way you could stay in one place, so at nineteen, you’ve been almost everywhere. See so many things. You have met so many people. Yet you’re constantly searching for that piece that clicks in the puzzle. All across the world and in 50 states, you’re still searching for something.

You’re broke from your thoughts when your phone pings again with another message.

Sarah 🎀🦋: Do you want to stay the night? Our AC has been out from the storm, and I was going to sleep on the Druthers tonight; it’s somewhat eerie at night but soothing. Let me know! :)

You quickly shove clothes in the bag for bed and tomorrow and pull your nightstand drawer open, where you graze for your travel makeup bag, brush, and wallet.

Then you run to your closet, picking out a cute bikini with some denim shorts that are so old you can’t even remember where you bought them and an old Malibu beach lifeguard zip-up. You quickly pulled on your white, beat-up old school vans and laced them up.

Lastly, before you text Sarah, you walk to your dresser and look up at the picture of you on Luca's shoulder; you smile and pick up the shell necklace with the ring on it; you had taken it off during clean-up to be sure it was safe.

As you run your thumb over the ring, you whisper to it like it was him, “You and me to the Big Dipper and back.” Then you slowly unhook the necklace, take the ring, and hang it on the same tack that the necklace was before returning the necklace to your neck, kissing your fingers, and touching them to Luca's face

You run and grab your bag, smile on your face, bag slug haphazardly over your shoulder, running out to tell your parents you're off to hang out with Sarah the rest of the day and spend the night. As you ran down the stairs, you responded back

(F/N)🗺️☀️: It sounds like a plan for all of it, be there in 10!

As you quickly run out to the table in your front yard, your parents are cleaning up and putting away the morning of aid they were providing; your dad turns your way when he hears your steps bounding down the front porch towards him.

You run up, placing a kiss on his cheek, saying, “Hanging out with Sarah. Be back tomorrow sometime,” running off, kissing your mom on the head and scurrying towards your Jeep, throwing your bag in and backing out, driving off as quickly as you said goodbye to your parents honking twice to say goodbye once more your parents just share a smile shaking their heads continuing their clean up to return to the house.

As you drove down the messy roads of Kilandre County, you looked around at the new place you were supposed to call home. So far, the waves have been great; it’s been helping inspire some board designs to show your dad. The community service committee seems very put together and involved, which makes you feel better about being here; leaving the YMCA back home for you was super hard. Leaving all the friends you grew up with, all the places you knew like the back of your hand, yours and Lucas's corner of the sky, your spot.

When you went driving across the country to get here, you were so scared you were going to hate it, watching each state grow from ocean to dust, then to plains and green forest, and eventually an island.

While driving through the Cut, you passed quaint homes, each corner of the lawn filled with different yard decorations all across the grasses, wind chimes hanging on porches creating musicality of pitches to sound through the sticky heat, painted bottles, and clay decorations hanging from strings attached to the large tree branches swaying delicately in the afternoon breeze.

Before you knew it, you crossed the bridge to Figure 8, driving through the enormous houses that reminded you of your old summer home in Maine.

Yards, Houses, Cars, and even dogs in the yards are perfectly manicured; everything on this side looks completely uniform and like someone specifically placed them like Monopoly houses on a game board. You were pulling up to your new so-called home immediately, seeing all the wealthy families and their kids in the area swarming for a look at the new kid.

You had lived in Malibu all your life but knew what it was like being the new kid. From early on in your life, actions paired with words affected you significantly. It’s like they latch on to your brain, and anything wrong you say or someone says to you would never escape your mind; it would play like DVD on replay, looping over until you felt you had it right, but it was always too late, it had already happened.

Being in-person for school was never really a place for you, not because you didn’t like the classes but because being around that many people constantly that you’d grown up with, they know you, and they understand your stories; they look for any way to tear into you.

People didn’t make it easy to forget what childhood was like for you. Honestly, girls at school were the biggest problem, starting squandering rumors that would spread and humiliate you, making it too difficult to go back every day.

Suddenly, you were at the next school, trying again. Still, the ones who didn’t stick by you initially would make it their mission to break you into tiny pieces. The only part that always got you through was going home and knowing no matter what, Luca would be there; he, indeed, was the epitome of the words prince charming.

The thoughts spiraling through your head halt as you see the prominent white balconies of Tannyhill. You pull into the driveway and park to the side so you won’t block anyone in or out, and you hop out and scurry to the front door; right as you are about to knock on the enormous front door, it opens, and you almost hit the man standing in front of you.

Standing in the front door foyer is Ward Cameron smiling at you, saying, “Hello, you’re from earlier; how can I help you? How’s Lana?” you smile brightly back at the man sticking out your hand. “Hello, Mr. Cameron, I’m (F/N). Also, she’s not great, but she’s home.” he happily takes your outstretched hand, and before you can say anything else, Sarah sees you from the top of the stairs, calling your name and running down.

Ward steps out of the way and motions for you to come inside, and once you step into the house, you're nearly knocked right back out onto the porch because of the force of Sarah hugging you. She grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs, saying, “Come on, I have so much to tell you.”

You both run giggling up the stairs, and you turn back with your hand still in Sarah’s; the other waves back to Ward, looking at him and saying, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” and before he can even say anything you’ve turned back going full speed to Sarah’s room whispering something to her that has you both throwing your heads back euphoric playful laughter erupts echoing through the halls of Tannyhill.

Ward smiles to think Sarah has found a good friend to be around who is like her—walking off into another part of the house to go through the insurance policies, looking for things that may need to be repaired or replaced from the storm.

Usually, down the hall from where you are now, Rafe's room sits empty as he makes his way to Emma’s house because, being the feeble man he is, all of the drugs he keeps doing and the thoughts of you overwhelm him.

Rafe feels he needs an outlet for it, and she’s there, and she’s salacious and unwavering, so he caved, and now he drives over to her house as you and Sarah dance around her room to “Our Song” by Taylor Swift.

The things he misses by allowing the anger to consume him will melt this man into a puddle.

If it weren't for a shred of fate being on Rafe's side that he didn’t have any condoms, and neither did Emma per her message that he stopped at Tannyhill on the way to the other side of the Country Club where she lives.

When he entered the house, he heard the girl's voices echoing through the house singing; one of them sounded like they were harmonizing with the singer on the speaker, which made Rafe frown, knowing there was no way that was Sarah she couldn’t sing in harmony she’s not horrible, but she’s also not a singer.

He made his way to Sarah’s door, which was only one down from his, to see you holding a makeup brush in your hand like a microphone, and now, through the halfway open door, he could hear you, the one harmonizing to the words ideally like you’ve done it a million times Sarah’s is laughing, singing, dancing around her bed frame. Rafe just watched as you completely acted like you were a performer and you were entertaining millions, but lucky for him, it was a personal show.

He stands, watching as you pull Sarah to her bed to stand with you, hurriedly grabbing another makeup brush and handing it to Sarah, standing back up and getting back into character, singing the words, ‘I got to the hallway, well on my way to my loving bed.’ you spin around singing, ‘I almost didn’t notice all the roses and the note that said’ grabbing Sarah and making her spin not so gracefully. She falls on her butt, laughing at herself. You, on the other hand, he watches as you gracefully dance on the bed, the sheets getting wrapped around your ankles.

Nothing would have mattered at that moment because the world was yours, and he was watched on ardently, hoping to be him in there one day with you dancing the sheets off his bed and screeching music like a band of banshees.

Sarah hops down, watching, dancing, singing along as you sing your heart out on her bed. Sarah loved hanging out with you; it was like she was constantly learning something; when people are around you for some reason, you help them remember what it’s like to feel alive.

You are continually laughing with people, listening when needed, or lifting the mood. You are the epitome of the word euphoria, which is nearly the identical thought Rafe has watching you sing total volume in the last post-chorus. Rafe concentrates on how your voice flows over the notes easily; it’s tangible that you’ve done all this before, and Rafe can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat or two just thinking about how often you may do this.

You dance on the bed joyfully, taking advantage of the fact that Sarah’s bed doesn’t sink as much as your cause of the number of times you’ve done exactly what you’re doing now. The entire time you knew, Rafe stood an arm’s length away in the hall, watching that only spurred you to have more fun, knowing the stoic boy you see constantly has some light underneath, and you’ve made it your mission to try and get a smile from him anytime you see him.

Until the end starts to come, you mimic what the singer is saying, taking your hair down and dropping to your knees on the bed, acting like you're writing on a paper and handing it to Sarah; she accepts it, which makes you both start laughing while the next song starts to play on the speaker, and that’s when Sarah looks up to see Rafe standing there.

“Ugh- go be a creep somewhere else, Rafe, like I don’t know,” she lifts her chin evilly; “oh, how about I do know, Emma’s house? You should go there this time since I don’t feel like getting sick every five minutes from all the shit. I hear over in that death trap you call a room,” she says all this as she’s stalking to the door, you sit on the bed wide-eyed and like someone who’s watching an episode of a reality series. You’re waiting for the heartbreaks and the chaos.

Rafe meets Sarah at her door, and before she can close it in his face, he braces his arm, pushes the door in, and puts his foot in the door frame so she can’t shut it, meeting her eyes and saying in a sinister voice, “What did you just say.”

Sarah looks at him with no affliction and speaks quietly to only Rafe, “You heard me; if you want to be sicko with different girls all the time, at least do it somewhere else and not with my friends; goodbye.” She starts to push her door in, but before the door closes, he catches your eyes worried but aimed directly at him like they’re meant for him; looking back, he sees the white of Sarah’s door and the obnoxious attitude of his sister turning up the music so loud he can’t hear anything. Still, the minor tri tones of your and his sister's giggles mix with the melodies of the music.

Rafe strides to his room quickly and texts Emma that he had an emergency come up; he’ll see her around. She doesn’t reply, but Rafe doesn’t care as he lays on his bed listening to you through the wall, knowing your enchanted presence is filling the walls of the room just next door.

Rafe listens and can faintly hear you two giggling and singing at total volume as if a concert is happening in Sarah’s room at Tannyhill. This thought makes him smile sitting there, thinking about how every time he’s seen you, you seem to be heartily enjoying music and life or human connection. Everything about you seems so worldly, and he wants every single bit. 

Rafe doesn’t even know how long he listened to the girlish ruse happening in the other room. Until he hears the telltale tone of you and Sarah giggling, and it’s louder, and he hears her call, “Well, be back later, Dad. Love you, we are going out with Top.”

Rafe quickly ran and swung his door open, stumbling over to the railing just in time to see you and Sarah at the front door, and before he could think, he said so coldly, “Where do you think you’re going?” You and Sarah snap your heads to him, and he instantly feels so inarticulate as he watches you and his sister narrow your eyes at him till Sarah says, “Kegger, but you knew that.” she nudges you, which makes you laugh.

“Well…we know you have places to be, Rafe; we won’t keep you. See you later,” you say with so much insinuation behind your words and your face, but still, the pure, gentle smile and eye creases, he’s committed to memory.

The last thing Rafe sees is his smug sister's face staring at him, shrugging, mouthing ‘sorry, Charlie,’ adding a fake pout to throw the dig even further and slamming the front door behind her.

Rafe is nearly off the deep end now; he knew you were going to the boneyard you’d told him, but; he contemplated going; one thing is sure, the pouges always start shit, and he’s not trying to fight in front of you just yet, so Rafe did what he thought would clear his mind; he took his last bump. This only sent him into a further spiral, having him reach for his phone and revoke his text to Emma, telling her to come to Tannyhill now.

On the other hand, outside, you had run out the door before any more words were shared, running towards Kelce, who was standing in front of his Truck next to Tooper, running to him and jumping on his back, scaring the hell out of him until you start acting like the announcer of a ring fight making him laugh.

Sarah ran up, kissing Topper; you hopped into Kelce's truck, and he started it up quickly after you put on your seatbelt, pulling out before Topper even started his trucking, laughing, flipping him off, and mouthing the word loser.

After pulling out of Tannyhill, he handed you the aux, saying, “Alright, Mss. Muse, you’re always listening to some music when I see you, so why don’t you show me your favorite song?” You giddily take the cord and plug it into your phone, scrolling wildly back and forth, and then you look at him wide eyes, huffing out an irritated breath.

“This is hard,” you said with a pout; he laughed then sat a moment thinking and trying to keep his eyes forward but stealing glances every few moments to let you know he was paying attention, saying finally, “How about play me the song you can’t get out of your head right now.” that made your eyes widen even more if that was even possible it made you look like a child in a candy shop “Smart and also much easier.”

Quickly, you scrolled, pressing on a song, and you sat back. You both enjoy the drive to the beach, listening to “3 Nights” by Dominic Fike playing in the background, watching the trees and beach blur past in one. The sun was still shining through the trees, casting rays of light into the car.

You sit and think about beach parties back home, how everyone would go cliff jumping, cave diving, or anything; the kids back home were thrill seekers. Back home collectively, your friends and people you knew would participate in things that could almost nearly positively end up with a broken neck.

You roll the window down, leaning in it slightly, humming the song, pretending your hand is surfing over make-believe waves that is just wind rushing past you. You take big breaths of the salty sea air and let the sun's rays peek and flash through the trees, warming you as you smile and think about how precious life can be; in moments like this, you feel alive.

Halfway through the drive, you look over to Kelce, who’s faintly singing, which makes you start to sing to him, gesturing and pointing, saying, ‘Seems like you can use a little company from me.’ pointing back to yourself at the end looking at him waiting on him and he looks at you from the corner of his eyes smile proliferating across his face singing with you. You throw your head back, laughing in pure joy. After that, you both get into the song, enjoying your time and dancing and being silly to the songs that play through after—enjoying each other's company and the drive.

Once you arrive at the boneyard location, Kelce parks by some Jeeps, Mercedes, and Trucks, waiting for Topper to get there, still listening to music and having a grand time. You and Kelce are enjoying yourself so much you don’t even notice when Sarah and Topper have not only walked over to Kelce's truck but are now watching through the front window; you and Kelce sing back and forth to an imaginary microphone in your hand singing to what was so obvious to hear as ‘Stay with me’ by Sam Smith that Kelce was going in on it wholeheartedly.

The only thing that broke the car concert was Topper knocking on Kelce's window, making the other boy look at him like a deer during hunting season, frozen and petrified. This makes everyone laugh as you turn down the music and open the door where Sarah steps into the opening, leaning over you to Kelce, saying, “Bravo, Encore, I never knew you were such a performer.” his cheeks are entirely red. Topper has his hand on his shoulder. “C’mom big guy, don’t let them bully you just cause you have a prettier voice than them.”

This makes the group laugh as they all make their way out and away from the truck. Kelce lightly shoved Topper. “She’s just got a good playlist; you try to have banger after banger play and not sing. I want to see you try.” Sarah shakes her head in agreement and laughs; she adds, “It’s true (F/N) is very good at choosing music.”

You run in front of the whole group and bow like an actress at the end of the play, saying, “Thank you. I take my playlist very seriously.” With that, your back is turned to the group, heading straight into the swarm of people's heads; the crowd seemed drawn like moths to a flame, turning to your greetings, and you facing all the new people, giving them all with your prize-winning smile.

Through the evening, you talk to tons of people; you learn they group people here in the Outerbanks, which you don’t like because we are all human, but apparently, you learn from one boy that you're something known as a kook cause you live in Figure 8.

You had to think briefly: your dad is well off, but you don’t see yourself as rich. Your parents worked hard for what they had, and the same was expected of you, and that’s what you will do: work hard and succeed.

As the night starts to take over, the sun creates light hues of color on the horizon. You end up bumping into Kiara, whom you met briefly at the clothes drive. “(F/N)(L/N), right?” she asks; you shake your head, saying back to her, “You must be Kiara; sorry we didn’t get more chance to speak at the drive. I caught the flu,” You say shyly, knowing the response is inaccurate. She brushes it off quickly, stating, “No deal; your brother is awesome, and what you planned was amazing. Hey, do you wanna come sit with me for a bit?” you agreed and followed her.

The conversation with Kiara was insightful; you not only met her friends JJ, John B, and Pope, who came from the Cut, but all the boys seemed nice, albeit maybe a little wayward. You learned about some turtle habit construction happening from Kiara and when they will do a turtle release next month;

She asked If you wanted to join her, so you agreed and gave her your contact information so that you guys could contact each other; you sat and talked to Pope for a bit of time about your aspirations and his for the future learning that he wants to be a mortician.

What causes you to press forward into finding Sarah is your conversation with John B. You learned that six months ago. His father also went missing, and he desperately wanted to see him again and believed he was out there still.

This struck a chord in your heart like buildings tumbling down during a demolition; it made your stomach and chest constrict. It made you immediately think of Luca and Cameron and if they could still be out there waiting for somebody, anybody, to come and get them.

You politely excuse yourself from John B in the end, pushing through the crowd, looking for Sarah and Top, finding them near the fire, whispering to each other, and walking straight toward you. When you walk up, Sarah turns, seeing your face looking slightly distraught, asking you what is happening.

When you start to speak, you are cut off slightly by a gasp of air; then, without thinking, you ask, “Where is Kelce?” they look at you and say he left; you shake your head and walk off to sit a moment, and Sarah follows closely dragging Top kneeling by you saying “C’mon will stand in the waves and be at one with the sea.” Sarah reaches her hand out to you, which makes you smile hesitantly; grabbing her hand and standing to walk with her and Topper, who now looks slightly more annoyed than the previously presented concern.

As the three of you walk toward the water, you get stopped by JJ, one of Kiara's friends you didn’t have the opportunity to talk to. JJ waltzed straight up to Sarah after saying something to John B. and asked, “Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage.” she politely declined, and he turned to you and said, “New girl? wanna give it a try?” raising an eyebrow at you curiously you shake your head smiling shyly saying “I’m good-“ he cuts you off saying “What is not fancy enough for you ladies,”

Standing there stunned, you are looking at him with a questioning look like you are not entirely sure what’s happening, all while Topper does his best to diffuse the situation, finally saying, “Hey, you know what? I’ll take it” saying gratitude to the other boy trying to take the cup from his hands you sharply heard JJ say “that’s nice, but I didn’t ask you if you said pretty please maybe” you could tell JJ was trying to get under Topper's skin and get a rise

Topper starts mimicking JJ's words under his breath, all while JJ continues to talk, and Sarah tries to calm them down. You and John B stand, staring at the situation from either side, wondering where to start. Suddenly, Topper smacks the cup of liquid into JJ's face, and the boys are at each other swiftly. JJ grabs Topper by the collar immediately; John B pulls the two boys apart, being proactive, trying to calm JJ down as Topper yells back at them, “Dirty Pouges!” 

This makes John B immediately turn and shove him back, chaos breaking loose as you wince slightly, thinking back to how bonfires were back home drama and gossip; yeah, that happened, but this is already out of hand over something as small as a drink.

In a moment, the boys are throwing punches and stumbling back toward the water, fighting each other, and Topper gets the upper hand on John B. You gasp slightly and move past the front of the crowd that was created around where you all once stood to be next to Sarah who is begging Topper to stop and that she wanted to go home

When John B rolls back into the water after a kick to the gut, Topper yells, “Hey, John B, don’t make me drown you like your old man., all right?” this makes you scoff in disgust at your new friend's boyfriend, who when you look into her face she looked just as disheartened by him right now.

As you looked back up, John B propelled back forward as a flurry of energy hit him, and they kept going; it was hard for you to watch; you only looked over twice once when John B yelled, completely enraged in his voice. “Come on, Topper! Let Go! Come on!” looking back over at the waves, wincing when you heard any hard contact. You looked again when you heard Sarah scream, “No, Topper, Stop!”

You look up to Topper, who is drowning John B. You don’t even stop before stepping forward from where you held Sarah’s shoulder, pressing back and using her body to pull you in front.

You place her protectively behind you, and like approaching a wounded animal or scared dog, you call, “Hey, Topper.” at first, nothing, then a big step that causes a small splash at your feet, you’re shoes getting completely soaked.

Everyone in the crowd is silent; you take one more small step, still far enough away that you’re not in reach, but if Topper surged forward, he would surely be able to take you down into the water as well, but again, you tried.

“Hey, Top, Look at me.” this time, your tone was harsher and firmer, like your brother used with you today when he left back for school or like how your mother used when she told you to do your homework as a child

Nothing Topper kept taunting John B, pushing and pulling his head up and down from the water, essentially drowning the boy right in front of your eyes. Your eyes slightly started to well with tears. Sarah from the side called one more time, “Topper!” one more time to no avail. Shaking your head a moment, looking to Sarah, who looks back, both of you look crestfallen; you only look when you hear gasps.

You look up to see JJ walking up with something in his hand, and then you recognize the black steel-looking object, a gun; the world stills. You don’t hear anything; you observe JJ's movements, standing frosted to your spot; you watch the weapon being pressed to the back of Topper's head, which makes the blood run cold through your body, probing your mind for anything you can do at this moment but can’t. None of these people know you; they aren’t going to listen to you. You still can’t hear what the boys are saying over all the commotion happening behind you and within you.

What can be told is Kiara and Sarah are yelling, and you’re standing there shocked at what is even unfolding in front of you when you thought of a beach kegger; this is never what you would have imagined; it all boiling up to what’s happening You hear Sarah yell to him “JJ stop! Put the gun down.”

You chimed in a futile attempt to diffuse what you can, stepping back next to Sarah now that there was a weapon in the equation, saying, “JJ, it’s not worth it; put down the gun.” turning to look at you and Sarah, a dark look on his face.

“Did you say something, princess?” you both stare at each other. You look back not in fear but with sorrow. JJ, still making eye contact, pulls the gun away from his head, bringing it to the side, panting out, “We’re good.” Topper slowly stumbles up from the water while Sarah yells at Kiara.

You take a moment to breathe and ensure you're not shaking when you hear people yelling. You watch as Topper slowly stumbles your way, and gunshots ring out from the gun JJ has raised in the air. Sarah grabs your hand, trying to guide you to Topper’s truck, but ultimately, you lose her in the crowd from all the pushing and shoving.

When you walk through, looking around, you see a few guys who you would most likely classify as kooks standing around; they ask if you need a ride multiple times as you stand there trying, and you lie, saying you’re waiting for your boyfriend until finally, they seem to congregate in a small group together still watching you, but from afar.

You sit alone on a withered log, waiting and hoping the text you had initially typed earlier, right after your conversation with John B, but before the commotion, you can only hope that the recipient will answer you as quickly as they usually do

Halfway across the island, Rafe's phone pings, and he slowly tries to pull from the grasp of the girl lying halfway over him before he hears, “Rafey, don’t; it’s probably just Topper being stupid; he’s drunk; lay back down.” he does only because she was kissing along the expanse of his neck hand trailing down his toned stomach she lets out little moans into his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries to enjoy the feeling as much as he can until his phone starts physically ringing.

Rafe huffs, annoyance pooling through him, leaning over as he hears Emma make a little whine from the loss of contact with him, and when he picks up the phone, putting it to his ear before even thinking to check who it is, saying “Jesus Christ Top can’t you tell I’m busy Em—“

Then he hears it so quietly, a little sniffle just like the first call, and he almost thinks he’s dreaming till he pulls his phone away and sees the word Angel ❤️ written on the top; Rafe puts the phone back to his ear; sitting up straight, which caused Emma to fall back with a huff on his bed entirely.

Gently through the telephone, he says to you, “Angel,” he hears another slight sniffle, and you say quietly again, “Messages,” and with that, you hang up. Rafe starts to panic slightly to think that not only does he almost tell you about the half-naked girl currently sprawled across his sheets, but you won’t talk to him; then he reads the messages

Angel ❤️: Pls, I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you pick me up from the boneyard? Sarah and Topper left me, and some guys are being weird.

Angel ❤️: The cops are here and are talking to me next, so I’m less worried, but if you can, I still need a ride. I can’t go home tonight…

Rafe🪸: I’ll be there. Give me 10 minutes, princess.

Seeing those last messages, Rafe is up and into his closet, Emma whining, saying, “Rafey, what are you doing? You said we’d have fun tonight?” trying to do what could only be described as a pathetic attempt to conquer eyes full of lust roaming him, but lips pulled into a pout. Rafe turns, looking at her dead in the eyes, saying, unfeeling to the girl on his bed.

“Be gone before I’m back.” with that, he was out the door, down the stairs, and on his motorcycle down the road before he could even turn back to see Emma’s angry image slowly stomping down his front porch steps with no shoes and looking highly disgruntled.

Just like he had promised, Rafe's figure takes shape, walking up to you; cops were talking to other kids your age, handing out some tickets to those who they could tell were intoxicated, but you sat, your arms wrapped around yourself, face down all by yourself. He notices your face is pale, and you are looking at your hands, tracing your thumbs back and forth from each hand.

Scanning the area, he sees some Kooks grouped, the group of creeps he assumes, some he knows, some he doesn’t. They watch him walk your way; their eyes are broad, faces starke. He smirks their way and continues his stride toward you; when he reaches you, he leans down, putting his hand gently on your knee, kneeling to try for eye contact.

The contact from Rafe made you look up, your usually gorgeous (E/C) eyes clouded with some darkness; you say in such a small voice, “You came,” a hint of a smile on your face, and it makes him smile back at you “always will angel” he waits a moment letting that sink in for you.

Rafe stands to his full height, holding his hand to you, saying, “C'mon, let’s head home.” You didn’t even think twice before completely interlocking your fingers with his. Even though this surprised him, he guided you to his bike, parked in front of the first cop car. Already, Rafe could feel what felt like the shock from an electric wire meant to keep animals in a paddock. Every time his palm brushed yours, a jolt would go through his limbs. All the while, you were trying so hard to keep your palms away, aware and afraid he’d think you had clammy hands.

He walked you to the side of the bike, grabbing the helmet, saying sternly but almost gently, “ There is only one of these, but…” You begin to cut in. Still, he cuts you off, eyes, brows, and voice slightly raising. “No argument; you are gonna get home safe no matter what, or your brother will freak out on me.” this makes you smile and shut your mouth, letting him slip the helmet on your head and put the straps through on the bottom. When he’s done, he places a hand on either side of the helmet.

He shakes it, smiling at you as you flip up the visor, saying, “Hey,” he chuckles and says, “I’m sorry, angel had to make sure it wasn’t loose,” he flips the visor back down, smiling, at you he helps you on the bike. He lets you know to be careful of the exhaust and that you’ll have to sit as close as you can to him since his bike is technically only a one-person bike.

After assuring you multiple times that he’ll get you to Tannyhill safely and not to worry that he’s got you. he climbed on the bike, starting and pulling off slowly; it’ll still made you jolt forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his stomach and pressing your head firmly to his back as much as you could with the helmet. He turned back, saying softly, “Hold on tight, don’t let go,” and then back forward before accelerating forward.

Along the ride, all Rafe could think about was the thrumming he felt throughout his body, feeling you pressed this close against his back. Behind the helmet, you were taking steady breaths to stop the feeling of electricity in your fingertips every time a finger pressed against his stomach, feeling how toned he was had your heart pumping, praying that Rafe couldn’t feel it on his back.

Not that it would matter anyway cause his heart was beating just as hard, loud, and fast as yours. Anytime you’d hit any bumps, you’d grip him tighter and nuzzle closer; he’d have to take a calming breath.

Eventually, after 25 minutes since he was trying to go easy on the ride, you arrived at Tannyhill. Rafe quickly hopped off, turning to you and unbuckling the bottom of the helmet. He set that on the seat where he was sitting

Rafe helped you off the bike so you didn’t stumble; once both feet planted, he reached up and smoothed the hair on the tops and side of your head that got messy, tracing his hands till he was cupping your cheeks in his palms like delicate flowers about to blow away in the breeze looking in your eyes he whispered.

“You are beautiful.” You lay your head straight into his chest, making his palms rest on the nape of your neck. “Thanks for always showing up, Rafe.” he takes one hand, tilting your head to look at him, saying with a smirk, “I told you always, and I meant it.” That made your cheeks burn a bright red

Standing in front of Tannyhill late on a June evening, you and Rafe stare at each other, orbs tracing each other like the earth and space were colliding to make one big picture or like a string is being pulled taut. You didn’t even realize you were leaning into him and that his hands were trailing to your waist. None of it matters except the feeling of you both trying to press closer but not entirely doing it

Nothing matters until you hear a voice you know that makes you springboard backward from him, standing straight and turning towards the figure, waving and smiling brightly like nothing even happened behind you. Rafe's eyes go from hooded to a scowl directed right at Sarah

Sarah is running to you, wrapping you in a hug, saying, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I tried to make him go back, but then he complained about cops, and then we fought.” you end up grabbing her wrist and saying, “Sarah, it’s okay.”

You give her your classic smike; she’s already growing to love being around you and your individualistic nature; that’s when she grabs your hand, saying, “ I set up the boat for us. I’ve got my laptop; we can watch Netflix,” letting her pull you off.

You throw one last glance over your shoulder to Rafe; he stands there expecting to meet your eyes one last time, and you do.

You turn and meet his eyes with all the brightness he’s growing to be so fond sparkling like the stars on a clear night; you smirk at him, and that’s how he knows the game of cat and mouse has finally begun, which has him with a devilish grin on his face watching you disappear around the corner of the house.

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except OC characters. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

if you’d like to catch up master here- The New Girl in Town

#obx fic #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x you #x reader #fanfic #imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe obx #obx #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #fluff #writing #fandom #rafe fic #rafe smut #mine #obx cast #obx imagine

[81-op-pastries]

Cupcakes and Christmas parties | Pierre Gasly

Pierre x reader

In a crowded Christmas party yours and Pierre's eyes met but there was one question on his mind, who the hell were you?

Summary: Pierre tries to figure who this mystery girl he met was, and where she came from?

Warnings: None 💙

It was the annual F1 Christmas party and the place was full of drivers and various team members who all had big roles in helping the F1 world run smoothly and then there was you, you were just responsible for catering the small event.

You had planned to duck out shortly after you finished preparing everything as big events weren't really your thing, plus you knew a little bit about F1 and it seemed pretty serious which isn't your type of thing at all.

But you were kindly offered to stick around, so here you were in the corner nursing the one drink you'd said you would have before leaving so you didn't seem too rude.

The place was pretty lively and full of all different types of people who were chatting and laughing, Christmas songs played softly in the background and on the walls hung several types of cute decorations. A lot of work went into this that was for sure.

You glanced around the room recognising a few famous faces before your eyes locked with one in particular, it was none other than Pierre Gasly who was smiling in your direction.

He smiled at you curiously, there was something captivating about the way you looked. The way your soft smile beams through the crowd, the way your hair cascades down your back, and that adorable red dress you were wearing.

Pierre was sure he hadn't seen you before, and he was sure he needed to meet you so he excused himself from Charles and Max for a second as he headed in your direction.

You had originally thought he was just smiling politely but as he started slowly approaching you, you started to mentally freak out wondering why on earth he was coming over. As he stopped in front of you he smiled extending his hand out to shake yours "Hey there I'm Pierre"

You reluctantly reached yours out to shake his hand as you flashed him a smile back. "Hi there Pierre good to meet you, so uh are you enjoying the party?" You asked him as you tried to be polite and keep the conversation flowing, talking to other people wasn't really your forte.

Pierre shook your hand taking a mental note of how soft it felt, your smile was enough to make anyone melt. "Yeah it's pretty good, even better now I'm talking to you" he boldly stated in an attempt to flirt. "What about you? I don't think I've seen you around before" Pierre asked you with a curious expression.

You were taken aback by his attempt at flattery, was he really flirting? You thought to yourself. "Uh yeah it's alright, it's the first time I've come along to one of these I was actually planning on heading out soon" you confessed, it wasn't entirely a lie it was your first time here and probably last.

Pierres gaze softened as he heard you planning on leaving. "Aw you can't leave so soon the parties barely started, and I'm sure people will be disappointed to see you leave" he said with a grin.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "in all honesty I don't think anyone even knows I'm here but thanks for that" she said as she shook her head laughing.

"I noticed, the minute I saw a beautiful woman standing alone I knew I had to come introduce myself" Pierre said with a smirk, you were still in disbelief why he was choosing to flirt with you of all people. "Well you best keep looking for her then" you said with a chuckle trying to lighten the mood.

Pierre scoffed and shook his head. "Very funny but you know exactly who I'm talking about" he said with a smirk as he eyed you up and down before gazing back into your eyes. "What's your name anyway? You never told me" he asked softly with a curious smile.

You were torn between telling him your name as he might use it to find you on social media, it's not that you didn't like Pierre but he was well out of your league and you had planned to run off home already if you wasn't stuck in this conversation.

"Oh you can just call me Cupcake" you said with a smile as you mentally cursed yourself for thinking of such a rubbish name, you could have picked literally anything else.

Pierre couldn't help but laugh at your response. "Cupcake? I'm guessing you made that up just now, I don't think you would actually be called that" you simply shrugged. "You never know maybe my mum really liked cupcakes"

Pierre chuckled again "does she really?" He asked with curiosity as he was interested in the answer. You shook your head "not really she prefers it when I make her biscuits" you confessed with a laugh. As far as conversations go this was actually an enjoyable one.

Pierre couldn't help but laugh, "alright biscuit it's good to meet you, but you should definitely stick around I'd love to get to know you" Pierre confessed with a genuine smile.

You chuckled at his nickname, still a bit bewildered that he was actively talking to you. "Oh really? All the people at this party and you picked the generic one?" You said with a chuckle. Pierre looked a little saddened by your comment as he stepped closer towards you and gazed into your eyes. "Madame that's nothing generic about you trust me. You're probably the most interesting person in this room right now, I bet you have fun stories to tell in that little head of yours"

You were shocked by his kind words, noticing his sudden closeness as a blush started to creep onto your face, dang it he was cute you had to admit it. You were about to speak before you noticed someone beckoning Pierre over.

Pierre glanced over and smiled as he noticed it was Charles, he started to walk before he turned back to you and smiled. "You should come along biscuit! I'll introduce you to everyone" he said as he offered his hand out to you.

You gazed at his hand reluctantly, nerves getting the better of you. "Uh maybe, but I don't want to interrupt" you stuttered out worriedly. Pierre just looked at you with a soft expression as he noticed your nerves, he still offered you his hand. "You won't interrupt trust me, everyone's really nice" he assured you.

You sighed and reluctantly agreed as you took his hand and let him guide you over to where the monegasque stood, there were a few other famous faces you recognised too. This party was definitely way out of your depth.

Charles greeted Pierre as you both wandered over before turning to face you with a smile. Charles extended his hand to shake yours which you gracefully accepted. "Hi there I'm Charles and who may you be?"

Before you could respond Pierre butted in "This is cupcake but please we're all friends here so call her biscuit" he said with a smirk causing you to feel embarrassed, and making Charles erupt into a fit of laughter. "Biscuit? Okay what an interesting name well it's good to meet you biscuit" Charles said with a chuckle.

You honestly thought the ground would swallow you up right there and then. "It's nice to meet you too Charles" you said back with a polite smile. "So what brings you here biscuit? What team are you with?" Charles asked with an interested smile. Pierre still held your hand, locking his fingers with yours.

"Oh I'm not with a team I'm just here by myself you know winging it" you said with a chuckle. Charles laughed along with you as Pierre cocked an eyebrow slightly, if you weren't part of any team who were you here with?

Charles smiled before continuing the conversation "well it's a great party lots of good company and some really lovely you should try it" you nodded and smiled "yeah it's not bad I guess" you said with a silent chuckle as Charles had referenced your catering.

Not long after Max was calling Charles over for something "Charlie!" "I'm on my way" Charles yelled back before smiling at you both. "It was good to meet you, no doubt I'll see you both later" Charles said with a grin as he walked away, leaving you Pierre alone once again.

You turned to face the man with a smile, he was still holding your hand and he looked down at you gazing into your eyes with a curious expression. "So biscuit, would you care to join me for a dance?" He asked with a smirk as he pulled you slightly closer.

You felt the nerves wash over you once again, "oh I'm not much of a dancer" you stutter back which causes him to chuckle. "Don't worry you'll do fine" he assured you as he wrapped his arms softly around your neck and lower back, before placing yours on his shoulders and starting to sway you both slowly.

"So biscuit, are you ever going to tell me your real name? Where you work? Anything? I've been dying to get to know you all evening, and I can't just ask for your number if I don't know your name" Pierre whispered into your ear with a smirk which caused you to shudder.

You pulled back slightly to gaze into the Frenchman's eyes and sighed. Why must he be so pretty? Why was he persistent? And why did you actually feel like letting your guard down and allowing him into your heart.

Pierre smiled as he caught you staring before he spoke up again. "You know what I think?" You raised an eyebrow in curiosity and encouraged him to continue. "I think you're a lovely lady who didn't plan on being here tonight, parties aren't your normal thing no definitely not. But you're having more fun than you thought you would, and I think you may even like me more than you care to admit" Pierre ended with a grin as he awaited your response.

"You know what I think Pierre? You might be smarter than you look" you said with a chuckle as his eyes widened in shock. "How dare you!" Pierre said with a laugh as he pretended to be offended.

He smiled as he stared into your eyes, inching closer and closer as he brought a hand up to caress your cheek. You were shocked by the sudden closeness, was he really making a move?

"I like you, and I'm sure you like me too" Pierre said before leaning in closer. The smell of his cologne and his breath on your face causing you to blush slightly. "Tell me I'm wrong" he said as he inched even closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

You didn't tell him in fact, you didn't say anything. You simply leaned in and closed the gap, kissing his lips softly and tenderly. Pierre kissed you back as he cupped your face pulling you in closer, his touch so gentle as if you would break.

Kissing you felt as amazing as he thought it would, and he savoured every second of it before you both pulled away slightly. "Tell me your name, please" Pierre practically begged in a whisper as he gazed into your eyes. "It's Y/N" you replied quietly.

"A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman I love it" Pierre confessed with a smile as he continued to caress your face. "Please let me take you out to dinner some day Y/N, I'd love to get to know you more" Pierre asked with an eager smile, you simply nodded.

"Okay yeah I'd love to" your response came as a shock to Pierre but he was so over the moon to hear you say it. He pulled you in closer to plant another kiss to your tender lips, smiling as he pulled away. "So could I ask for your number now then?" Pierre asked with an eager grin.

You chuckled as you nodded before reaching into your pocket and handing him a cute business card with your number on it. Pierre's eyes widened as he saw the writing on it "The cupcake cottage" you didn't work for any F1 teams, you were the damn caterer.

Pierre chuckled as he looked down at the adorable card before looking back up at you and smiling. "Thanks cupcake" he teased with a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss.

Several years later and you still hadn't shaken the nickname, not even at your wedding.

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fic #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fiction #pierre gasly #f1 christmas

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping |

Chapter 4: The Pool Party

Series Summary: In this AU, the boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia. 

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+) - This is here as a blanket rating 

Word Count: 8.8k

Chapter Summary: It’s pool party time. Once we get to the party we are going to be bouncing around to a lot of little scenes amongst various characters. Some stuff from the party hit the cutting room floor.

Chapter Warning: Allusions to cheating, co-dependent relationship. Some military/veteran talk. If something else should be added here please let me know! Also, I don’t have a beta for this, so any mistakes are all me.

A/N: At the beginning of this chapter, I provide some background on another one of the neighbors – the most in-depth I think I've gone since Lucille. I’m not trying to pass a moral judgment on this character one way or another, but I think it’s important to lay out some of her past.

Also, shoutout to @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain whose comment from Chapter 3 about Benny’s choice in swim trunks took me down a rabbit hole.  Another shoutout to @trulybetty for bouncing ideas about one of the storylines with me!

“So…that Santiago sure was giving you the fuck me eyes wasn’t he?” David chuckled as he, Ty, and Melissa made their way back to their respective houses after the watch party at Lucille’s.

“Yeah, Mel, the guy couldn’t take his eyes off you."

“Oh it's fine, just some harmless flirting,” she waved them off. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s also gorgeous and probably a really good kis-” she cut herself off as they side-eyed her.

“Ten cuidado con eso,” Ty cautioned her. “It's harmless flirting to you, but he may not see it that way…"

"Yea, girl…don't write checks your ass can't cash."

Melissa rolled her eyes as the trio stopped in front of David and Ty's house.

"Anyway," Ty cleared his throat. "With the party tomorrow, I guess we have to cancel our appointment with the event planner at the golf course. That's the third venue in a row we've canceled. You getting cold feet or somethin?”

“No, of course not,” she shook her head, nervously laughing. "We can always reschedule, right? Everyone seemed so excited to do it tomorrow so why wait…sorry for the short notice, I didn't leave you with enough time to come up with a theme.” She wanted to change the subject and change it fast. 

_______________

Melissa was no stranger to turning heads. She was one of the younger women who lived in Torrey Hills. She was fit, attractive, and had an infectious laugh and quickly bonded with David and Ty over RuPaul's Drag Race after they saw Melissa wearing an Alyssa Edwards shirt one day. The three alternated locations for their weekly watch parties, even going back and watching old seasons in between the new ones. 

They also bonded over wedding planning. David and Ty were some of the most sought-after wedding planners in the greater Tampa Bay area. And when Danny confided in them that he thought Melissa was overwhelmed with wedding planning, trying to do it all herself, they knew they had to step in and help…free of charge.

The idea of a wedding and impending marriage loomed over Melissa like a dark cloud. She loved Danny, they were high school sweethearts, but more and more she felt like her life was planned for her and not by her. For the last 12 years, all they knew was each other. They were each other's firsts and last in so many respects. First relationship. Last kiss. And when it came to sex, they had been each other's first and last in almost every respect. 

In high school, Danny was the star quarterback and Melissa was the head cheerleader, so of course they were bound to get together. When Danny suffered a torn ACL in the last game of his senior season, all hopes of a college scholarship were dashed. Devastated, he had to rethink his plans since the hopes of a prospective NFL career were no more. He reluctantly decided to follow in his father's footsteps and attend Embry-Riddle and start on the path toward being a commercial airline pilot. 

Melissa was a fantastic athlete in her own right and received a cheerleading scholarship to attend the University of Florida. Despite the distance, she and Danny wanted to make it work; everyone told them since they were high school sweethearts, and clearly soulmates, this was just the next logical step for their relationship.

They alternated making the two-hour drive on weekends to see each other. Although it was tough for Danny to attend the football games, wishing it was him on the field, he absolutely beamed seeing Melissa on the sidelines getting tossed in the air and leading the crowd in cheers.

When it came to her college experience, Melissa had a much different one than her sorority sisters. She didn't go out with the girls as much because she was either visiting Danny or he was there seeing her. It was hard for her to turn down social events. One of the reasons she decided to go to a big school like UF was to live the ultimate college experience. But, she loved Danny and the distance was hard, so she relished any opportunity to see him even if it meant they wouldn’t leave their rooms the whole time.

Fast forward a few years, and a couple of changes in majors, and Melissa graduated with a degree in health education with a minor in Spanish. After he graduated, Danny benefitted from the pilot shortage and quickly made the jump from a regional to a major airline. Moving in together after college was the next milestone on their trajectory – their families assumed marriage and babies wouldn’t be too far behind.

The next few years they moved wherever Danny's job took them, before ultimately landing in the Tampa Bay area. Danny knew he wanted to marry Melissa from the moment she agreed to go on a date with him. She was it for him. He proposed during a romantic beachside dinner in Clearwater Beach 10 years to the day he asked her out for the first time. He even organized it so their families were there as a surprise. Everyone was absolutely over the moon as the next milestone got checked off the list. 

Danny was all in on wedding planning, suggesting they attend a local wedding expo so they could start to meet with vendors. Melissa, on the other hand, was not as gung ho to get started. Most of her sorority sisters either were married already or in the midst of wedding planning, so she was no stranger to the machine that was the wedding industry.

Everyone had questions. Were they having an engagement party? Where were the bachelorette and bachelor parties going to be? Did they want a local wedding or a destination wedding? Were kids going to be invited? What colors for the bridesmaids' dresses?

Melissa's head was spinning with all of these decisions she needed to make. Everyone meant well, encouraging her to do whatever she wanted because it was her day, yet she came to the realization that this - a wedding, marriage, kids - wasn’t what she wanted. 

This epiphany tore her up inside and she hated herself for it. Danny was a good man and deserved to be with someone who worshiped him the way he worshiped her. But, at the same time, she didn’t know how to navigate life without him. He was her best friend and had been by her side through her highest highs and lowest lows.

She couldn't bring herself to call things off, she couldn’t bear to break Danny's heart. She rationalized her hesitation saying it was a phase or something she needed to work through. So, she tried to find some distraction to help put off wedding planning just a bit longer – and buying a house seemed like the perfect distraction. Their focus would be on stalking Zillow, going to open houses, and driving around looking at neighborhoods.

When they drove through Torrey Hills with their realtor, Melissa immediately fell in love with 305 Mulefall Court, a house newly on the market. She was awed by its spacious, inviting interiors and massive backyard. She could envision a life with Danny here. Things moved quickly from that point on from making an offer to closing, and before they knew it, the two of them were homeowners. 

Once they moved in, her focus immediately went to making her home perfect. She had a list of projects, which included lots of additions, including a pool, and Danny was receptive to it all. He hadn't seen her this focused and excited in a long time.

"Whatever makes you happy babe," he'd say whenever she came to him with an idea.

Every so often Danny would broach the subject of wedding planning and Melissa would find some convenient excuse as to why she couldn't focus on it. She was changing jobs, she didn't want to compete with another friend's wedding, or her sister-in-law was pregnant. She latched onto anything that could delay wedding planning more.

When construction started on their pool, the last of the big home improvement projects, Danny upped the pressure for a date. Melissa, David, and Ty went to see nearly every possible wedding venue in Tampa Bay, St. Petersburg, and Clearwater and even drove to Orlando to check out what a Disney wedding would entail. Making matters worse, their respective parents were also starting to run out of patience, blaming it on their desires to spoil their future grandchildren.

Melissa knew she was destined for a crossroads and she felt the walls closing in on her. She was turning 30 in a few months and had lost track of who she was. Danny was the only boyfriend she had ever had. He was the only sexual partner she'd ever had. And for the past 12 years, they navigated life together, their whole adulthood wrapped up in each other.

_______________

"Hey…Fish and I are at the store, what do you need us to pick up again?" Santiago stared at the wall of beers as Frankie checked out the whiskey selection.

"You know the beers we all like, but maybe add in some…uh…I don't know…hard seltzers or something." Will tried to be sly with that inclusion. The other day coming home from his run he noticed Katie had an Instacart delivery which included hard seltzers.

"Hard seltzers? The fuck?  You watching your figure?"

"Shut up. I’m just thinking we should bring…a variety. We don't know what everyone likes to drink."

"A variety…ok man. Lemme add some Sunny D and juice boxes while I'm at it." Santiago countered sarcastically.

"Fuck off, we'll see you and what I imagine is your obnoxious as-hell swimsuit soon." 

Will hung up the phone as he walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. Benny was at the kitchen table doodling in his notebook. 

"Are they on their way?" He asked without looking up, concentrating on his drawing.

"Yeah, they’re wrapping up at the store. What are you working on?"

"Oh, nothing…just had an idea I couldn't get out of my head," Benny looked up and gave a half smile. He heard his phone ding and saw it was Connor.

Connor: Guess what I did?

Benny: ?

Connor: I asked Aria if she and her parents were coming to the party.

Connor: I had Mom ask Ms. Melissa if that was cool, but turns out they were invited already lol

Benny: FUCK YEA

Benny: I mean hell yeah!

Benny: You excited?

Connor: Haha. Yea. And nervous.

Benny: I get it. I'll give ya a pep talk when you get there 😉

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, it's Connor," Benny waved his phone. "That girl he likes is coming to the party."

"He's a good kid. You're not trying to replace me are ya?"

Benny rolled his eyes and laughed. "Nah, man. Wherever you go, I go, you know that."

___________________

"Wait, I thought we were supposed to go look at a venue today. I leave tomorrow for a couple of weeks, Lis, what're we doing hosting a party?"

Danny was the planner. Meticulous and always wanting to have things in order. And, for the most part, Melissa was the same way. Except in recent months, he noticed she was getting more spontaneous, erratic even, randomly deciding to go off and do things with a moment's notice…including hosting the entire neighborhood at their house for a pool party.

"I know, but I was talking with D and we just don't think that place is our vibe, so like why waste everyone's time."

"Well, what is our vibe? Jesus Lis, you've seen like, what 20 places…you don't like any of them? Budget isn’t a hurdle, you know. I want you to have your dream wedding."

"I know, baby,” she walked to him, putting her arms around his waist. “I want it to be someplace special. I'll know it when I see it. I just haven't had that..feeling yet when I've gone places. But we're close, I know we are." She kissed Danny, trying to reassure him although she could practically see his patience wearing thin.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "At this point, why don't we just go to the courthouse?"

"The what?" She pulled back to look up at him.

"Yea. It's just a piece of paper anyway. Then we can go on a trip or something…whatever you want - Lord knows I have miles for it. Take the pressure off of planning a big party," he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"You know both of our moms would not go for that. Heck, I'm my dad's only daughter so he will be heartbroken if he can't walk me down the aisle," she chuckled. "We'll figure it out, baby. Now, can you help and put the tables out back?"

___________

"Lulu, need help?" Megan opened the door to Lucille’s. She had Connor bring their wagon, knowing that Lucille was going to have several different platters to haul down the street.

"Sí, por favor!" She called from the kitchen. It was no surprise that she had made a ton of food, including a flan, another one of Connor’s favorites.

The three of them got everything loaded up and started walking toward Melissa and Danny’s house, stopping abruptly when they heard a loud whistle from behind them. Turning, they saw Benny giving them a big wave with his free hand as he hauled a case of beer on his other shoulder. 

He was decked out in what, on a normal person, would look like the most obnoxious pair of swim trunks, but somehow he made look cool. They hung low on his hips and were all black, with a retro flame design in various shades of orange, red, and yellow extending up from his knees towards his crotch. His shirt choice was much more understated, a red cut-off shirt paired with a white Houston Astros baseball cap which he wore backward, of course.

Will followed, donning a pair of mostly red swim trunks with alternating stripes of white and navy blue near the waistband, and a plain gray T-shirt. Behind him was Frankie who had on solid black swim shorts with a light gray, button-down short-sleeve shirt with what looked like a crane pattern on it. He left the top several buttons of his shirt unbuttoned exposing his tanned chest. His signature baseball cap was affixed to his head and his aviators were tucked into the pocket of his shirt.

Santiago trailed behind with the shortest trunks of the bunch, showing off several inches of thigh. They were navy blue with white and baby blue tie-dyed roosters scattered across them. He paired the shorts with a baby blue tank top. Not wanting to mess up his hair, he went sans hat but did have on his Oakley sunglasses.

All the men carried various cases of alcoholic beverages. Frankie knew they should have just driven it all over, but the other three insisted on walking. 

"Wait up!" Benny called after Megan, Connor, and Lucille. 

"Hey, where's the party?" David shouted from his porch across the street as Ty wheeled their wagon full of goodies down the driveway. "You boys actually planning on going into the water?" 

"Well…yea…I mean, it's a pool party right?" Benny was confused at the lack of swim attire and towels from David and Ty. 

"David never goes into the water, he prefers to sit on a lounger and get the chisme from Lucille. Those two know everything," Ty laughed.

David and Ty bickered about their pool party behavior as they all made the relatively short trek to Melissa and Danny's.

"So, Megan…is uh…Melissa's fiancé cool?" Santiago asked as they reached the driveway.

"Oh, Danny? Yeah, he's a sweetheart, really nice guy."

"Awesome…great," Santiago said flatly, trying to avoid the confused look he could feel Frankie giving him.

"Party's here!!" David announced as the crew made their way into the backyard.

The backyard was almost as big as Will and Benny’s. It was a little sparse, with just a few palm trees, but it had lush green grass and a large sparkling pool. The lanai was expansive with a full outdoor kitchen and a table that could easily seat eight comfortably. Loungers and chairs were scattered throughout for seating.

Danny was just finishing setting up the last of the foldout tables as Melissa walked outside with a plastic tablecloth to cover it.

"Oh hey! Welcome!" She gave a dazzling smile to everyone, pleased that the four new additions to the neighborhood all came with their swim trunks on.

She had a black, sheer cover-up on over her blue and white tie-dyed bikini, a more revealing swimsuit than her usual pool party attire.

“Ok hot momma, I see you!” David whistled as he saw her, bringing her in for a big bear hug.

When David finally put her down, her eyes immediately connected with Santiago, who tilted his head down to peer from over his sunglasses. He didn’t hide the up and down he gave Melissa, leaving her a bit flustered at the attention. She walked over to Lucille who was helping Connor and Frankie unload the contents of her wagon onto one of the tables.

"Lulu, esto es demasiado…you didn't have to make all of this!"

"¡Ay, basta! You know I can't help myself when there’s a party," she winked. 

"Oh babe, here meet the guys," Melissa called Danny over. "This is Will and Benny, they moved into 319. And these are their friends Frankie and Santiago."

"Hey guys, nice to meet you," he shook all of their hands. "You guys are fixing that house up really nicely, it looks awesome."

"Well, it couldn't look any worse," Will joked.

Once they started talking, Danny and Frankie immediately hit it off once they realized their aviation connection.

"Do…do you need help with anything?" Santiago asked Melissa as Frankie and Danny started to nerd out about engines on their walk over to the grill.

"Uh…yeah. Actually, I have a cooler I need to bring around from the garage."

"Lead the way," he opened his arms for her to pass, trying to discreetly check her out as she walked by him. 

Frankie quickly side-eyed where his best friend was going, trying to not make it too apparent as Danny continued on his rant about the impending pilot strike.

Melissa could practically feel Santiago’s eyes on her as she walked toward the front of her house. She put a little extra sway in her hips, not hating the attention but knowing she was playing with fire.

Danny loved Melissa and tried to show her as often as he could, but his work schedule had definitely put a damper on their sex life. Gone were the days of ripping each other's clothes off at a moment's notice and having passionate sex everywhere and anywhere they could. With Danny away for work as often as he was, they'd had more phone sex than actual sex over the last couple of months and she was going a little stir-crazy. A handsome stranger certainly didn't help things either.

"Here it is, think you can handle it?" She turned to face Santiago. She resolved that she wouldn’t do anything other than flirt with him. 

"Oh, I think I'd be able to manage just fine." He winked.

For his part, Santiago was conflicted too. He was never one to shy away from a beautiful woman flirting with him, but he drew the line if they were taken. He had been there, done that, and didn’t want to go down that painful road again. But he also couldn’t deny that there was something there when he looked at Melissa. 

He didn’t want to say anything to the guys, especially Frankie, because he knew what their reactions would be. They’d tell him that he was just attracted to her because she was the young, hot thing on the block and remind him that she was very much unavailable. 

"That's uh…a nice suit you have there," he nodded towards her. "Looks like we both like tie-dye," he chuckled.

The two stayed with their eyes locked on each other, trying to read the other’s face for what felt like minutes before they heard someone clear their throat.

"Oh hey, sorry we're late!" 

They turned to see Olivia, with Diana on one hip and a baby bag slung on the other shoulder. Her husband, Chris, and their sons CJ and Max were right behind followed by Katie who was helping the family with their bags.

"It feels like we have to pack the whole house even when we just come down the street," Olivia laughed, oblivious to the awkward tension between Santiago and Melissa.

"Aw don't even worry, everyone just got here! Come, they're out back!" Melissa waved toward the backyard.

Santiago introduced himself to Chris, who helped him bring the cooler along with a couple more fold-out chairs to the back.

Frankie spotted Santiago as he came back with a man carrying a cooler and some more chairs. Seeing Olivia and her kids, he figured it was her husband. He also clocked how Santiago's eyes lingered on Melissa, who was walking in front of him.

"Hey babe, where are the burgers?" Danny yelled out to Melissa.

"They're inside, here I'll help you."

"I'll be right back," he told Frankie.

As Danny and Melissa headed inside, Santiago stopped to get a beer before walking over towards Frankie. He could feel the side eye Frankie was giving him.

"Don't."

Frankie lifted his hands up in protest. "I haven't even said anything."

"Yeah, but you're giving me that look."

"She's engaged, hermano. Besides, isn't she a little young, even for you? Ow-" 

Santiago slapped Frankie in his chest. "I'm not that much older. And besides, I'm just…flirting with her. Nothing else."

"Ha, yea ok, Pope," Frankie took a swig of his beer, shaking his head.

Frankie knew his friend had a knack for fixating on the most unavailable women. He never understood why Santiago did this, he was arguably the biggest flirt of the bunch and a good-looking guy, so he could, and did, get any woman he wanted. But yet, it was as if he thrived on the drama, on the secrecy of it all.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, you were right there with me too.” Santiago snapped back.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one who caught feelings…that was you, remember?”

Santiago rolled his eyes and walked over to Lucille, who was arranging a plate of food for herself.

____________

After more neighbors trickled in, the party really started getting going. David and Ty were in charge of the playlist, rolling their eyes whenever Olivia glared at them for playing a song that wasn't child-appropriate.

"There's literally a summer barbecue playlist on Spotify, just pick that one!" She went over to them in a huff.

"Ok, momma bear. No more Cardi B noted!" David teased.

"Boys no running!" Olivia called after her sons as she dipped a carrot in some ranch.

"Are they twins?" 

She heard a low voice, turning to see it was Frankie next to her.

"Yes, unfortunately," she sighed and then smiled. "They're great, just a lot of fucking energy."

"Ha, I can see that. And how old are you?" He bent down smiling at Diana, who was still attached to her mom's hip. 

"Oh, this is Diana, she's nine months, 10 months in two weeks!"

"Well, she's beautiful," he rubbed the little girl's cheek with his thumb, which elicited a small smile, barely visible from behind her pacifier. Her eyes were fixated on Frankie.

"Ooo she likes you, she doesn't smile for just anyone." 

Frankie smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Do you have any kids?"

"Ah, n-no. My sister has two, so uncle mode is where I'm at these days," he chuckled.

“Ah, well maybe someday…”

“Maybe…I’m getting a little old…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “But, I like kids, so I dunno, we’ll see.”

“I mean, I can give you one of mine if you want,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood after she unintentionally struck a nerve.

_________________________

"Havin' fun?" Benny walked up to Megan, as she loitered around the coolers, observing her son who was pacing near the back of the yard by some bushes.

"Huh, oh yeah," she looked over at Benny, giving him a smile. "Hey, do you know what's bothering him? He's seemed on edge since we got here."

"Uh…yea…at least I think so. I think he's waiting for a girl to show up."

"Aw, is it Aria?" She looked over to Benny who nodded. "Ah, I knew it! I swear that boy has had a crush on her since middle school…has he…told you anything? Does he like her?"

"Yeah he likes her, he's just too scared to ask her out."

"My sweet baby, of course, he is…did he…talk to you about it? I've tried but I'm mom you know…"

"He mentioned it, I just listened. Tried to give some advice. I was a teenage boy at one point, ya know," he chuckled.

"Well, you have one on me there. I can't believe I'm at this stage now, where he likes girls," she shook her head.

"Want me to go talk with him? I told him I'd give him a pep talk if he wanted."

Megan's heart was about to burst at how sweet Benny was being toward her son. She felt a pang in her chest that Jacob wasn't here to see how much their son had grown up.

"I'd like that," she smiled.

Benny squeezed her shoulder, before bending down to the cooler to grab a soda and a beer and head toward Connor.

"Where's your girl?" He asked as he offered the boy the can and cracked open his beer.

"She's not my girl…and I don't know…" He tried but couldn't cover his disappointment, wondering why she hadn't shown up yet.

Benny put his arm around his shoulder, "She'll show up, the party just started man. Maybe she wants to make an entrance,” he winked. “ C'mon, let’s go kick Will’s ass in cornhole," he smirked.

Megan wiped away a tear as she observed her son and Benny, thankful for the little family she had created and fostered in this neighborhood.

______________

"Ooo hard seltzers, yes!" Katie pumped her fist as she opened the cooler to see her drink of choice nestled right on top.

"Which flavor’s your favorite?" Will appeared behind her with a smirk, pleased with himself that his plan to surprise Katie with her favorite beverage worked.

"Oh, hey…um, black cherry," she held the can up to show him. "Ty hates that flavor so we usually end up doing a swap whenever one of us buys a case since I'm not a huge fan of the grapefruit one. It works out for both of us," she chuckled. "You, ah, gonna go swim?" She motioned over to the pool, whose only inhabitants so far were Olivia’s twins and her husband. As Will turned to look, Katie gave him a quick up and down, trying not to salivate at the thought of him shirtless.

“Yeah, it’s so hot out, I’ll probably go in. How about you? Did you bring your suit?” He was thankful his sunglasses were able to hide his eyes as he checked her out.

“Sure did!” She lifted up her tank top just enough to show off her one-piece, which had cutouts along her hips.

The glimpse of her suit, and bare skin, caused Will to choke a bit on his beer. “N-nice, well, we’ll have to get in soon.” He smiled, annoyed at himself for being so awkward. 

Katie was amused that a guy who looked like a male model would be nervous talking to a woman, and with her no less. It definitely was a bit of an ego boost and gave her the courage to continue the conversation to try and learn a little bit about Will. After all, the only thing she really knew was that he was a hot, seemingly nice guy with equally attractive friends.

"So, tell me about yourself, Will."

"Well, what d'you wanna know?" He asked as he leaned onto a table, getting a little bit closer.

“So, you casually build fences with your friends and know how to do a bunch of other house stuff. You work in construction or something?"

“Ha, well, when it comes to the house stuff, Benny and I would be kicked out of the family if we weren't handy," he laughed. "Our grandfather was a contractor…had his own business. When he passed, our uncle took over since he and his family already lived in Austin. When I was in high school, I spent my summers there working for him, with my cousins. When Benny was old enough he came too."

"Ooo a family business, then?"

"Yeah, my cousin actually took it over a couple of years ago. He's been helping me with questions I've had for the house, so I can't claim to have done it all myself," he smirked.

"Well, you're still the one who did the work. It looks great…so, what do you do? When you're not calling your cousin for construction advice?"

"Ha. Well, I used to be in the military. Actually me and the guys. It was like…damn, almost 20 years…felt like a lifetime,” a quick wave of sadness flashed across his face. His mind was flooded with memories of all of the horrific things he had seen and done over the years, the most recent memory being the death of their leader Tom. “But…we all got out and retired. We…uh…saved well and have taken some time to just live as civilians,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, were you guys some like badass G.I. Joe’s?”

“Ha, something like that,” he tried to play it off. “We were part of a special unit called Delta Force.”

“What kind of stuff do you do as part of this special unit…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s not that I don’t mind, it’s just I can’t really tell you a lot … it’s … uh …classified,” he scratched his head, bringing one arm to rest on the back of his neck. “We traveled all over, did a bunch of different things...”

Will and the boys had long since agreed that they would never talk about any of the details around their missions to anyone…especially Colombia. Tom’s wife and daughters didn’t even know the true reason why he was in South America. He knew Katie meant well and was just trying to make conversation, but this was a prime example of why he didn’t like talking about himself.

Katie sensed his unease, chastising herself that she made him uncomfortable. She should have known better than to start asking a bunch of questions without knowing him. Her own brothers never really wanted to talk about their time in the service. She hoped she didn't just trigger some bad memories for him.

“So uh, what do you do now then?”

“I try to do stuff for veterans. There's some speaking engagements I do from time to time, but I mostly volunteer at the VA. We have this uh…service, where we basically are like their Uber to doctor’s appointments. But I don’t just do that, I’ll drive them wherever they need to go, even if it's to the CVS to get some M&Ms,” he chuckled.

“That’s nice, I bet you meet some interesting people,” she gave an encouraging smile.

“Yea. I mean, some of them don’t really like to talk much, which is fine. But for those who do, I’m there to listen. A lot of times they don’t have anyone who can relate to them as veterans or gives a shit or wants to hear what they have to say, especially the older ones. So I am just an unbiased ear for them…I’ve met some cool people. Some of the old timers have some crazy stories.”

Katie was a bit thrown off by this thoughtful and considerate side to Will, it was so unexpected. He seemed like this quiet, hard ass, but there was a depth to him that piqued her curiosity.

“So, you’re patient and a good listener, quite the winning combo,” she teased, moving to sit against the edge of the table inches from Will.

“I’ve been told I listen and follow directions quite well,” his eyebrow twitched as he looked her up and down, now a bit more obviously, before clearing his throat. “So, now it’s my turn to uh…listen. Tell me about you.”

“Me? Oh, it’s not a very interesting story.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He moved even closer as both of them sat perched at the edge of the table, their arms slightly touching.

“Well, let's see…I'm originally from Chicago. I moved here a few months ago. I work from home which has been pretty sweet. I get to rock sweatpants most days,” she laughed.

“What made you move to Florida?”

Katie hesitated but ultimately gave her rote answer whenever anyone asked what brought her down to Florida from the Midwest. “Well…I…I moved down here for the weather, couldn’t take another blizzard, ya know” She kept her gaze forward as she took another swig from her drink.

"You move down here alone?"

"Uh, yeah."

"For the weather?" He furrowed his brows, knowing there was more to the story.

Katie turned her face slightly to face Will, trying to put on a poker face.

"The weather was a reason."

"But not the only one?"

"Were you an interrogator in this military unit?" She countered.

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to pry…" He shook his head, annoyed at himself for pushing.

"It's ok. I don't like to just dump my whole life story on someone. The weather thing’s usually enough…most people who ask that question don't really care, it's just for conversation."

"Well, I'm not most people."

Katie gulped down another sip of her drink, the can almost empty. 

"I'm divorced." She blurted out.

Will continued looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed she was waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Oh okay."

"That's it?" She furrowed her brows.

"Whaddya mean?"

"You don't want the sad backstory with all the gory details?" 

"Not if you don't feel comfortable sharing it."

They sat in silence for a little bit. Will didn't mind awkward silences, hell there were some veterans he drove who had only spoken five words to him in months. But Katie, on the other hand, was not the same. She always felt the need to ramble and fill any silence.

"My husband…ex-husband…he left me. Just up and left one day.” Her nose wrinkled.

"That's shitty, I'm sorry."

"Yea…It was for his ex,” she huffed. “I shoulda known, honestly. He was never really over her. She was always kind of like a dark cloud over our relationship…'The one that got away,'” she made air quotes. “Honestly, from her perspective, it was probably the most romantic shit…the love of her life coming to his senses and getting her back. Problem is nobody ever sees it from the other side of the story.” She emptied the can and reached into the cooler for another one.

Will stayed silent, unsure how to react – he wanted to give her the space to share whatever she felt comfortable sharing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload that all on you,” she shook her head, bringing her hand to her forehead.

“Hey, hey…it’s ok,” Will put his hand on her back, lightly rubbing circles with his thumb. “I’m a good listener, remember?” He winked.

The corners of Katie’s mouth curled up. Will was a good listener. Megan was the only person who knew the details of her divorce, all of the red flags ignored, and the scars left behind.

“Well, thank you. And to answer your question from earlier, no the weather wasn’t the only reason. He kept the house, which is a joke if you ask me, I was the one who actually gave a shit about that house…” she took a swig of her beer.

“How so?”

“Our house was my little project, I had a Pinterest board for pretty much every room and every occasion,” she laughed. “And Seb, my ex, he thought I was being too much, too extra about it. But it was a lot of fun for me, the creative stuff you know.” She looked over at Will who nodded. 

“Is that what you’re trying to do with your house now?”

“Ha yea…”

“I was serious when I said I, er, we would be happy to help you … not saying you can’t do it yourself or anything. Just let me know. I can come over sometime to see what you have in mind, you can show me a Pinterest board or two,” he bumped his arm against hers, which elicited a small smile from Katie. “That way I can tell you if it’s somethin’ we could take care of. May be able to help you save some money too so you don’t have to hire someone,” he chuckled.

“Really? Yeah, that would be awesome. So…Mondays tend to be a little lighter for me, so would you want to come tomorrow? Is that too soon? You're probably doing your VA stuf-”

“Sure!” he interrupted. “I mean, yeah, tomorrow’s great. What time?”

“Really? Uh…I usually take lunch around noon…would that work?”

“Yea. I…uh…I can bring over lunch. If you want.”

“Hold on a second. You’re coming over to help me and you’re bringing food? I feel like that’s too good to be true,” she winked.

“Well, let’s see what kind of uh, projects you have in mind first,” he laughed. "Here, gimme your number so I can give you a heads up when I'm on my way," he handed her his phone.

Katie smiled to herself and she typed in her number.

"Nice, here let me text you so you have my number…it's a…plan, it's a plan," he smiled.

“Hey! I was looking for you,” Benny bounded over with Connor on his tail. “Hey, Katie! I was going to ask Will if he wanted to take Connor and me on in some cornhole, but do you want to join too? It’s probably more fair for it to be two on two anyway,” he chuckled.

“You mean bags? Uh…sure, let’s do it. Sorry in advance Will, you may have been better off alone,” she laughed as she walked towards the cornhole set.

“I doubt that…” Will whispered to himself.

_____________________

"Oye jefa," David squeezed Lucille's shoulder as he sat down and brought her a rum and Coke. "Extra limes, just how you like it."

"Thanks, mijito. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, although I will be having even more when the boys decide to go into the pool," he winked as Lucille rolled her eyes and laughed at him. "So, have any good chisme for me?"

"I saw Ethan at Publix earlier today and he told me that another house is going up for sale on the block."

"Ooo, which one?" David scooted his chair closer. He didn't know how she did it, but Lucille always had the best gossip on the block. 

"Melissa's neighbors, 306."

"Oh, aren't those the snowbirds?"

"Yes, apparently their son and his wife are having triplets, can you believe that? So they are going to stay up in New York to help with all of the babies."

"Woof, three babies?" David shuddered. "Ugh, I hope that we don't have some rental company come in and scoop up that house."

"I said the same thing to Ethan. He figured someone would want to scoop up that house pretty fast once it goes on the market, not like Benny and Will's house," she laughed. 

"D'you think he'll give you a heads up on who the buyers may end up being…when we get to that point?"

"Oh yes, as long as I make him some empanadas I think we can find out whatever," she giggled.

"Speaking of, I need another one. Quieres algo?" 

"No, mijito, I'm good."

________________

"Ari!" CJ and Max said in unison, jumping out of the pool and running over to give Aria a hug once she, her little, sister, and parents made their way into the backyard.

"Boys! I said no running! Also, give Ari some space ok? She's here to have fun, not watch you two," Olivia winked.

She hired Aria last summer to help her watch the boys once she got too pregnant to do much of anything. The boys loved her and she had been a big help over the last year as Olivia transitioned to life with three kids.

Benny and Connor had their backs to the party, so they didn't see Aria and her family walk in. But once he heard the commotion of the twins, Connor tensed up.

"Showtime, bud!" Benny slapped the back of his shoulder. "Hey, Katie, Will, I think Connor and I are gonna take you both out of your misery. Let's get some refills on drinks?"

As they turned around, Connor saw Aria taking off her coverup. The twins were begging her to get in the pool to play with them. 

"C'mon, Ari let's play sharks and minnows!" CJ jumped up and down.

"Yea, c'mon let's gooooo," Max whined.

"I'm coming, gimme a sec. Do you two have sunscreen on?"

"We don't need sunscreen, a kid at school said we have more melly men so we don't need it," CJ said confidently.

"It's melanin, and that's not true. We need to wear sunscreen too, c'mere." She grabbed the spray bottle of sunscreen from her bag and doused the boys and her little sister with it before using it on herself.

She spotted Connor and gave him a nervous wave. She recognized the guy with him in the hat, he was the same guy who complimented her dog. The two were making their way across the yard toward the pool.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Davis," Connor smiled and waved at Aria's parents. "Have you all met Benny, he lives in 319?"

"Oh, so you're the one making that house look beautiful," Mrs. Davis winked.

"Yes ma'am, well it's my brother Will and I. We moved in not too long ago."

Benny stayed talking to Mr. and Mrs. Davis as Connor made his way to the pool, which brought a little smirk to Benny's face.

"Hey, Aria!"

"Hey, Connor!" She went in for a sideways hug, which caught Connor off guard. He could feel his face getting hot and his mouth went dry.

"Connor, are you going to play with us?" One of the twins said, he honestly wasn't sure which one because his brain was short-circuiting.

"Yea, wanna play? I'm going to need help trying to chase these two," Aria giggled.

Connor couldn't find words, but as if he telepathically knew, Benny was there to save him.

"What're we playing?" He said with the biggest smile on his face, wrapping his arm around Connor.

"Mr. Benny, d'you wanna play sharks and minnows with us?" Max asked, tugging on Benny's shirt.

"Hmmm…let me think about that," he bent down to get on Max and CJ's level. "We gotta set some ground rules if I'm gonna play, ok?" The boys eagerly nodded. "Ok cool. So I'm gonna be a shark and you two are minnows. Aria, you're a shark. Connor you're a minnow. And see that guy over there in the red shorts?" He pointed towards Will whose head was thrown back in laughter as he talked with Katie and Megan. "We're gonna all need to work together to get him, ok? He's a special kind of shark."

The twins were already halfway to the pool before Benny could finish. 

"Will, c'mon we gotta catch some minnows, and I'm not talking about you Fish!" Benny laughed as he took off his shirt, flip-flops, and hat, and threw them down on a lounger.

He saw Connor hesitate, knowing the boy was self-conscious to take his shirt off. It didn't help he was standing next to all six foot three of Benny who had a toned stomach and a defined upper body. 

"C'mon kid, she's into you, I can tell." 

Once Connor got his shirt off, Benny lifted him up and threw him in the pool. He followed by doing a cannonball, which made all of the kids laugh. 

By this point, the rest of the party was focused on the pool. Will and Katie headed over, getting down to their swimsuits and getting in. Will was immediately tackled by CJ and Max.

"Hey! What'd I do?" He laughed as he hoisted each of the boys out of the water to throw them, which elicited lots of laughs from both.

"Mr. Benny said you're a special kind of shark, so we had to work together to get you!" Max panted as he caught his breath from all of the excitement.

"Did he now? Well, did you know he and I are brothers? So if I'm a special kind of shark, that means Mr. Benny over there is one too!" Will winked over at Katie who was smiling at the interaction.

"Hey, Mr. Benny! You didn't tell us you guys were brothers!"

"Yeah, that means you're a special kind of shark too!"

"Oop, you caught me!" Benny flashed another brilliant smile as he started swimming away.

"We're chasing Benny? Sign me up!" Santiago jumped in and tackled Benny, followed closely by Frankie.

The four men ended up chasing after the boys, although Will spent most of the time near Katie, pretending to try and catch her a few times too.

"Got ya!" Connor had been play chasing after Aria and finally caught her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. They both froze, Aria turning her head toward Connor and they both smiled.

Splash

One of the twins splashed the pair as they were frantically trying to get away from Benny and Will who were in wild pursuit. 

_________________

"Again, can we just acknowledge the fact that we are seeing this all for free?" David laughed as he, Ty, Lucille, and Melissa watched the antics of the poolgoers from a table.

“Are you losing your mind now that Frankie’s hat fell off?” Ty teased.

With all of the splashing and playfighting, both Benny and Frankie had lost their hats. Frankie’s curls stuck to his neck as Benny’s bangs kept getting into his eyes. 

“Baby, that’s not the only thing making me lose my mind!”

“Ay, dios mio!” Lucille shook her head laughing at them.

“Oh come on, Lulu, you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying the view too, right?” Melissa asked as she kept her eyes on the pool. Santiago was in the midst of hoisting one of the twins up and throwing him - his biceps flexing and the water dripping down his chest as he jumped out of the water.

“It’s definitely not the worst way to spend an afternoon,” she winked, giving a sly smile.

“Katie seems to be having fun with Will, right Meg?” Ty asked.

“Yeah…best believe I am getting all of those details later,” Megan replied, noting how close Will had stayed to Katie the whole time, the two were now laughing in a corner, talking as the rest of the guys splashed with the kids.

"Ok everyone, food's ready!" Danny called out.

______________________

Megan smiled as she saw Connor and Aria sitting together on a lounger wrapped up in towels, laughing and talking.

Benny came up and handed her a beer.

"So, that's your doing?"

"Nah, that's all him. I just gave him a push, well, I guess it was more of a toss," he winked.

"He really liked hanging out with you guys yesterday, by the way. Couldn't stop talking about it," she chuckled as she took a swig of her beer. "He mentioned something about you both working out together?"

"Y-yea, we talked about it yesterday while driving. Would you be cool with that? I think it may help his confidence a little."

"I think that would be really nice Benny, thank you. But don't let him take up too much of your time, I'm sure you have a girlfriend or something, right?"

"Ah, no. I'm not dating right now," he moved his bangs out of his eyes, realizing he needed to go find his hat.

"I may have some friends if you’re interested," she laughed.

"Ha, no, I appreciate it. I'm uh…taking some time for me. I'm not really looking for anything right now."

"You know, I feel I wanna make some type of liar liar pants of fire kinda joke," she motioned to his swim trunks. "But that feels too on the nose," she laughed.

"Hey! I like these trunks, I usually get a lot of compliments about them," he smiled. 

__________

The party continued well into the early part of the evening. After the raucous game of sharks and minnows followed by a big meal, the twins were starting to lose steam, so Olivia and her family left. 

Aria and her family were next to leave, she went over and gave Connor a hug goodbye. He watched her walk away before turning back to see Benny smirking at him. 

Connor walked over to Benny and the older man gave him a side hug and messed with his hair.

"Proud of you, bud."

"Ha, thanks. I had a good time. I think we might hang out soon."

"Hell yeah!" He gave the boy a high five.

"Well, I guess we're going to head out," Lucille said as the rest of the neighbors got their things together. "Thank you so much for hosting us all mija it was beautiful as always over here."

"Thank you, Lulu," Melissa gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. 

Melissa and Danny gave hugs and handshakes to everyone. When it was her turn to say goodbye to Santiago they both hesitated on whether to go in for a hug or a handshake, but he committed and went for the hug. Whereas normally he would reach for the waist, resting his hand on the upper part of a woman's ass, he decided to hug her around her shoulders. For her part, Melissa put her hands on Santiago's midback, feeling the cords of his muscles tense.

"Have a good night," he said softly as she smiled at him 

Frankie gave Lucille his arm to make the walk back to her house as Santiago wheeled the wagon. David and Ty chatted with Megan, Connor, and Benny, as Will and Katie lagged behind.

David and Ty said their goodbyes, followed by Connor and Megan. Lucille asked if Frankie and Santiago could help unload her wagon. Knowing that it probably meant they would get leftovers to take home, the two men eagerly agreed. That left Benny, Will, and Katie. 

Benny looked at his brother, knowing very well that he was trying to put the moves on Katie.

"Ah, shoot!" he smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot, Tommy called me earlier, let me go call him back, see ya Katie!" He gave his brother a wink over Katie's shoulder as he hugged her goodbye.

"So…and then there were two, huh?' Katie laughed.

"Ha, yeah. I'm…uh, looking forward to lunch tomorrow," he smiled. "Hey, speaking of, what do you want me to pick up?"

"Oh, I'm not picky. Surprise me. Whatever's your favorite. Just as long as there's no pickles."

"Got it, extra pickles," he winked as they both let out a nervous laugh. "Just kidding, I just so happen to love pickles, so if you ever get them I'll gladly take them off your plate."

"Well, aren't you my hero!" She teased.

"Here, let me walk you home."

"Will, it's like three doors down," she smirked.

"I know, but it's late and I just want to know you made it safe."

"Ok, Boy Scout let's go."

The trip to Katie's house was short, but Will didn't mind. 

"Well, this is me. I had fun today."

"Yeah, I did too," he smiled, keeping her gaze for a beat before she reached into her bag for her keys.

"I'll ah see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yea."

They both looked at each other for another moment before Katie went in for a hug, which Will reciprocated.

"Good night, Will."

"Good night, Katie. See you tomorrow."

She closed the door and Will turned on his heel to head back home. He didn't realize that a smile hadn't left his face the whole walk back.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: I know this was a longer chapter, so thank you if you made it this far! Our little soap opera continues to unfold. 

What didn't make the cut? I had an additional scene with Santiago and Melissa along with one with Danny and Frankie, but decided we could cover what happened in conversations later on.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!! Apologies if I accidentally left you off, I added it all manually and may have missed someone … just let me know!

@goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @patti7dc / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beholdbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @primosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharrassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain

#delta landscaping #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Geraskier, number 8, for the domestic ask meme?

I got a little carried away kind of lost the thread of this prompt, but here's 2K of pre-slash Geraskier!

8. going clothes shopping and trying on outfits for an event they’ll be attending together

“They’re just clothes, Jaskier,” Geralt says irritably, watching Jaskier retrieve the remains of his knapsack from the ichor-filled pond. The knapsack is shredded, brightly colored bits of clothes bobbing in the water.

“Just clothes?” Jaskier holds up his yellow doublet, which is splattered with black ichor, in dismay. “Geralt, this is every outfit I own! It’s all ruined!”

“Would you have preferred it to have gotten you?” Geralt jerks his chin at the dead kikimore, which is collapsed on the bank of the pond in a heap of limbs. It had been going for Jaskier when Geralt had thrown the knapsack at it to distract it. Kikimores don’t see well; he’d hoped the scent of Jaskier on the clothes would convince the beast it had snatched up an edible bard rather than a sack of cloth. The distraction had earned Geralt a precious few seconds to fetch his swords before the kikimore realized the deception and lunged for Jaskier again.

“Oh no,” Jaskier moans, pulling a sopping wet garment from the knapsack. Geralt can’t tell what color it used to be. “Fuck.”

“It’s just—”

“If you say it’s just a doublet, Geralt, I’m going to make you eat it.” Jaskier goes to bury his face in the ruined doublet then seems to think better of it. “This was the outfit I had custom-made for Prince Radovid’s birthday celebration next week.”

“You have other clothes.”

“This is the only one of my outfits not destroyed.” Jaskier spreads out his arms to show Geralt his light blue outfit. “This is two seasons out of date, Geralt! There’s a reason I only wear it when we’re in backwaters. Do you see these ruffles? Ruffles are considered terribly gauche nowadays. I can’t wear this to a prince’s birthday banquet! I’ll be laughed out of Redania, if not off the entire Continent.”

“You wouldn’t have worn anything to the banquet if you’d gotten torn apart by a kikimore,” Geralt can’t pretend to give a fuck about some ruined clothes, not when it could have been bits of his bard floating in the ichor-black water. Fripperies can be replaced, unlike Jaskier. “Anyway, there’s time to have something else made.”

“With what coin?” Jaskier demands, waving the ruined doublet around. “I spent most of my savings on this! I don’t have the funds to afford anything fine enough to wear to a banquet at the royal palace, especially not if it’s going to be a rush job.”

Geralt opens his mouth to reply, then is distracted by movement in the pond behind Jaskier. Fuck, how did he miss not one, but multiple kikimores? “Jaskier, get away from the water.”

“It’s no use,” Jaskier moans. “It’s all soaked anyway, what’s a little more water?”

“Jaskier!” Geralt lurches forward, dragging Jaskier back just as an adolescent kikimore comes bursting out of the water. After that, there’s no time to worry about clothes.

***

Geralt comes trudging into the room he’s sharing with Jaskier in Tretogor and is greeted by a sigh. Jaskier sits at the table, wearing his sole surviving breeches and one of Geralt’s own shirts, which hangs off his shoulders. Geralt’s interest would be piqued by the sight, if Jaskier didn’t carry such an air of misery as he hunches over a roll of parchment, quill in hand. As Geralt puts down his things, Jaskier sighs again.

“What’s the matter?” Geralt asks. Jaskier’s been sulking nonstop since his clothes were destroyed by the kikimore.

“I’m just figuring out how to phrase this letter informing Prince Radovid that I won’t be able to play at his birthday banquet in a way that won’t get me blackballed or beheaded.”

Geralt turns to him, dismayed. “You’re not playing at the banquet?” Normally, that would be something of a relief; he’s been dreading accompanying Jaskier to the party, which sounds like his worst nightmare. But he knows Jaskier was looking forward to this and it’s not like the bard to back out of a night of wine, women, and music.

“I’m going to tell him that I’m ill and hope that he doesn’t feel snubbed,” Jaskier says. “He has a week to procure my replacement, which should be plenty of time for a prince.”

“But you’re not sick. You’re fine.”

“I have nothing to wear, Geralt!” Jaskier looks up at him in exasperation. “You’ve never lived at court, so you don’t get it. Appearances are everything. For Radovid to have to replace the bard for his birthday feast at the last minute is an inconvenience. For him to have an unfashionable bard show up will just be embarrassing for him. People will wonder why the heir to the Redanian throne can’t get a better, more well-dressed bard. Radovid is not the kind of man you want to embarrass. He could ruin me. He will ruin me, if he feels I've disrespected him.”

Geralt doesn’t understand how the fuck Radovid would be embarrassed by Jaskier wearing ruffles, especially not so embarrassed that it could have repercussions for Jaskier. But there’s real distress in Jaskier’s eyes, not the affected horror he puts on so often. It would be easy to dismiss Jaskier as being dramatic, but it’s true that he understands court life better than Geralt ever could.

“Come on,” Geralt finds himself saying. “Put down your quill. We’re going out.”

Jaskier sighs. “My friend, as much as I would love to drink away my sorrows right now, I don’t think it’s going to help. Plus, I should save the little coin I have.”

“We’re not drinking away any sorrows.” Geralt grabs Jaskier by the scruff of his shirt and hauls him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Geralt, you can’t just manhandle me,” Jaskier says, but he lets Geralt haul him out the door nonetheless.

***

“A tailor?” Jaskier blinks up at the shop in front of them.

“I’m no expert, but I think that’s where you get new clothes made,” Geralt says dryly. “Unless you’d prefer the armorer down the road.”

Jaskier huffs out a laugh. “No, I don’t think wearing armor to the banquet will solve anything.”

“You’d be in less danger of getting stabbed.”

“That’s only happened once, you fiend,” Jaskier says. “And I’ve already told you, I can’t afford new clothes right now, especially not a rush job. I’ll have to make due with what I have until I return to Lettenhove for the winter.”

“Hm. Good thing I’m buying then.” At Jaskier’s wide-eyed look, Geralt feels a little sheepish. “I made some money selling the kikimores to an alchemist. Plus, I have the money from the leshen and katakan contracts. Should have enough to get you an outfit for the party, plus one or two everyday outfits, depending on how much we have to pay for the rush.”

“I’ll be able to pay you back,” Jaskier says, voice a bit wobbly. “Once I get paid for the banquet.”

“Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have let us make camp next to a kikimore-infested pond. This is the least I can do.”

As expected, Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck and clings for a long moment. Geralt endures the embrace the best he can, not enjoying the honeysuckle scent of Jaskier’s hair or the warm body pressed against his in the least.

“We going to go in, or are you going to wait until the banquet has come and gone?” Geralt finally asks.

Jaskier doesn’t let go of him. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that?”

Geralt doesn’t know what to do with that. “You need better friends.”

“Not possible,” Jaskier says, but he lets go of Geralt and they head into the tailor’s shop.

The tailor is a friendly young woman who makes sympathetic noises when she hears about Jaskier’s close call with the kikimore—Jaskier really plays up how close he came to being the creature’s dinner—and offers to waive the rush fee. Jaskier chats with her as he selects two lengths of fabric, one in a deep red, the other a vibrant yellow. Jaskier seems perfectly pleased with both of his choices, but he doesn’t quite have that sparkle in his eye that he often gets when he gets a new outfit.

“Don’t you like them?” Geralt asks in an undertone when the tailor goes into the back to fetch her apprentice.

“Oh, it’s perfectly lovely,” Jaskier says. “And it’s very kind of her to waive the rush fee.”

“But?”

Jaskier laughs a little sadly. “It’s just, the outfit I was going to wear to the banquet was gorgeous, Geralt. I adored it. And there just isn’t any fabric here that pops like it did.” He looks down at the length of red fabric and sighs. “But it’s no matter. Both of these will suit perfectly well.”

Geralt is never going to be able to tell his brothers about this, he knows. They’ll never let him live it down.

***

After paying the first tailor for what will be Jaskier’s everyday outfits, they make their way to a second tailor’s shop, where the proprietor tells them flatly that he’s far too busy to put together an outfit in less than a week, no matter how much they pay him. Jaskier looks a little deflated as they make their way to the third shop, where the tailor spends the entire time they’re there staring at Geralt in open disgust. Despite the way he oohs and aahs over a length of lavender silk, Jaskier refuses to give the man his business  and leaves in a huff. 

“I think the red outfit will do nicely for the banquet,” Jaskier says as they make their way down the street. “Really, Geralt, there’s no need for all this—”

Geralt steers him into a fourth tailor’s shop before he can protest further. He can tell as soon as Jaskier lights up at the sight of the rows of fabric that they’ve found the right place.

Except, the elderly tailor, while as sympathetic as the first tailor, shakes his head. “I’m sorry, lad,” he says. “But I’m working on two other last-minute orders for the prince’s banquet this week. I just don’t have the time to take on another, not without working my apprentices round-the-clock.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s shoulders sag. “Understandable.”

“That being said.” The tailor taps his chin. “I do keep a selection of outfits that weren’t paid for in the back for just this sort of occasion. There might be something there that will suit you?”

Jaskier smiles, but doesn’t look hopeful. “It might be worth a look. Thank you!” As the man shuffles away, he adds to Geralt in an undertone, “I know a handful of tailors who do this, and the outfits are never very good. I don’t know if it’s that people who don’t pay their tailor always have poor taste or if it’s that the outfits just weren’t up to snuff in the first place, but— Ah, you’re back!”

The tailor returns, pushing a rack laden with clothes. He looks between Jaskier and the rack, clucking his tongue. “Oh, this one isn’t right for your skin tone. And this one will be too short in the arms and legs and I don’t know if I have any more of this fabric. Bah, I don’t know why I still have this one. No one wears ruffles anymore.”

“No one indeed,” Geralt deadpans. He stands still so Jaskier can elbow him in the side, because he admittedly deserves it. 

“What about this one, my boy?” The tailor asks, holding up a doublet for inspection.

It’s the ugliest thing that Geralt has ever seen, a horrible, peacock feather-patterned doublet in swirling shades of green and blue. But Jaskier sucks in a delighted breath.

“Geralt!” He seizes Jaskier by the arm. “Melitele’s supple bottom, it’s perfect! Isn’t it perfect, Geralt?”

Geralt wonders if the Jaskier hit his head during the kikimore attack, but he nods. “It’s very… you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier barely seems to hear him; he only has eyes for the monstrosity in front of him. Geralt watches in bemusement as Jaskier tries on the outfit, making appreciative noises about the fabric, which the tailor claims to be the finest Nazairi silk money can buy. The outfit is a bit long in the arms and legs and loose in the waist, but the tailor assures Jaskier that he can find the time to make such minor alterations by the end of the day.

“It’s almost like it was made for you,” the tailor tells Jaskier warmly.

Jaskier turns to Geralt, eyes shining. “What do you think?”

Geralt thinks that the outfit looks like a flock of peacocks got chewed up by a basilisk and spat back out. But Jaskier is glowing, looking as excited as he did as the first time they stopped by a tavern and were greeted by a chorus of, “Toss A Coin.” He looks like a man who just fell in love at first sight. Geralt doesn’t want to say or do anything to wipe that expression off his face.

“It looks good,” he says and to his surprise, he’s not even lying.

Somehow, Jaskier’s smile grows even brighter.

“And here.” The tailor steps forward, holding up a black outfit with a pattern of silver stars. “If you need an outfit as well, Sir Witcher, I think this one will suit you quite nicely.”

As Jaskier makes a noise of pure glee, Geralt realizes that resistance is futile. Eskel and Lambert truly can never know about this.

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[be-my-ally]

The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

As always it's super late here, I will re-edit grammar etc tomorrow! enjoy!

Summary: It’s the next day and they’re off on their return flight. Elvis and Bunny get up to panicking and meditating, and then a couple hours of later one of the other bunnies joins them. Idk I just really can’t see elvis missing out on such a prime chance for a teeny lil bit of voyeuristic action. 

I truly tried to wiggle the wrist weights in but alas, not to be today - next time though, next time. 

Warnings: 18+, p in v penetrative sex, handjobs (v), oral (p and v), mentions of drug use, graphic description of a panic attack, f/f touching, elvis is kinda sweet in this one - except for the voyeurism + girl on girl action; TO CLARIFY - this is asked for by elvis + both parties consensually agree however, I am warning about very teeny tiny elements of internalised homophobia + the fact that reader implies she only does so (at least at first) to please elvis - she is not, however, reluctant nor unwilling.

wc: 11.4k

FYI: I’ve updated my bio to say I’m pausing requests - just until I get my inbox cleared down + posted! xx Also!!! I’ve had a couple of requests for a taglist - so this is my official mention of that; lmk if you want me to tag you in future posts! FINALLY found images of Elvis AND big bunny! pictured on the left and top right below!

Your brief encounter with Elvis had been your first experience of anything casual, or meaningless, and you’ve never had to navigate the emotions or situations before. It makes you antsy that you don’t know the correct procedure even before you’d left the plane; what do you even say to him? ‘Thanks for the sex, see you on the flight tonight?’ You’re not proud of it, but you ultimately panic to such an extent that you hide in the powder room until they’ve all disembarked. You’d not realised you’d have to hide from the other bunnies too though; they’d all converged on you as soon as you’d left - desperate for any morsel of information you would give. You’d somehow, thankfully for your dignity and the taxi driver’s ears, managed to prevent them from asking too many questions until you’d all arrived at the hotel where you would be staying. 

You were looking forward to ensconcing yourself in the hotel room, a proper shower and time to relax for the night and day or so before the return flight. That was, however, not to be, and you were thankful that you’d had the chance to at least wipe yourself down before getting redressed on the plane; your sudden lack of tights had forced you back into your dress - unwilling to be so exposed in your bunny corset. Instead of the peaceful night you had planned Daisy and Maggie were forcing their way into the room (of course, they’d have been sharing with you anyway but you can’t say that you didn’t try to run in and close the door on them) with Darla and Michelle close behind; you forget sometimes that even though they may be more ‘senior’ bunnies, they were still only two years older than you. They sit down around you, demanding you tell them everything, wanting you to fill in the gaps between the assumptions they could make from what they’d heard and when things had gone silent. 

“Oh lord, I just don’t know what to do -” You'd said after you’d recounted, blushing, the majority of the details; you’d left out him licking you, or that you think that might have been the first true orgasm of your life. You leave out that you think the hour you spent with him might have made you fall in love, and other ridiculous notions. And, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a detailed description of him, trying to simultaneously protect him and to keep something just for you; you wouldn’t let them speculate on his size, or his stamina. But you had mentioned that he had a thing for feet, something that had been met with raucous laughter and clapping from the girls when you’d prefaced that with the story of your pantyhose being torn. You were, despite your embarrassment, glad to have these girls around you - you’d grown up in a fairly conservative part of town, and you know any of your close childhood or home friends would have been disgusted with you. They might have let it go - since it was Elvis, or have loudly judged you while silently expressing a level of jealousy but under no circumstances would they have encouraged the behaviour, or been so happy for you. Nor would they have interjected your story with their own, somewhat similar, although far less famous, tales. By the time the conversation had gotten back around to your dilemma with how to deal with Elvis again you were all relaxing on the two beds, piled up and crossed legged like a slumber party. “So really - what should I do?” 

“Just don’t change a thing,” Daisy recommends, “If he wants to make something of it let him, but you have to rise above it all. Seem like you don’t care. “ Maggie offers you differing advice;

“If you want it to happen again, just be all over him, it’s not like you have to worry that he doesn’t like you.” You consider these opposing suggestions, silent, sipping the terrible hotel coffee. Michelle speaks up, Darla nodding in agreement;

“In my experience… you’ve got to subtly let him know you’re there and available, but don’t fawn over him, just … just say hello in a friendly way and it’s all in his hands then. Remember, be casual about it.” You consider this for a moment before agreeing. It does seem to be the way of the least mortification. You try to put it out of your mind for the remainder of the break, taking the time to try and focus on resting and relaxing before you had to be back in the air. 

This time, there’s far less pomp and circumstance around his arrival; and you’re not surprised to see that it’s solely the same group again. Only Darla greets them on the tarmac - the rest of you already onboard and preparing for a quicker departure than last time. This time, you’re all in your little bunny suits, collars and cuffs, cottontails perfectly fluffed - since he’d requested it you all assumed it would save being made to change. This airport was, despite being private, closer in airspace to the larger international airport and your takeoff time was therefore far stricter than any of you would have liked. All knowing that sometimes these celebrities were as difficult to wrangle as herding a particularly difficult group of cats.

So you don’t have a chance to really look at him, take him in, until he’s brushing past you, his thick hands on your hips and waist moving you from where you’re blocking a narrower part of hallway with your body. He doesn’t say excuse me, or ask you to move, just manhandles you across him. You feel then, before you see, the soft plush fabric of his outfit, and when you glance over your shoulder at him you’re a little surprised that rather than the expensive, perfectly fitted, suit he was wearing last time, this time he was wearing a, clearly expensive but nonetheless fairly ordinary, tracksuit - navy blue, low zipper exposing the wide collared shirt underneath - his chest hair peeking out. Your tummy flips seeing him, and you stay very still where he’s put you, struggling to remember what your plan had been. He pats your ass, casually, in the blatantly chauvinistic way that should make you squirm, that implies he could and would do it to any girl at any time - although you hadn’t actually witnessed that yourself, and you’re mortified that at even that brief touch, without any words exchanged your breath hitches and your mind goes slightly blank. He’s gone by the time you try to open your mouth to say something and you try to clear your head by distracting yourself with the take-off preparations. 

Michelle is eyeing you up when you’re finishing checking the door, and she opens her mouth but you’re frantically shaking your head before she can say anything, gesturing to not say a word. She frowns, but complies - a moment later only asking you to help her sort the food out. You do so, happy to disappear for a little while and let the others deal with them for a bit. It’s not long after that the pilots signal for take-off and you sit down briefly as the plane taxies down the runway. You’re distracted enough by the situation you find yourself in; are you making it more awkward not talking to him? That for once the take-off doesn’t bother you at all and soon the plane is balanced in the air, allowing you and Michelle to finish your preparations. Daisy pops her head around the corner a few minutes later saying you’d been requested. 

You breathe in, deeply, as much as you can as a little bunny, plastering a smile on your face and you head out to the forward compartment where the group is sat. You expect to walk straight over to Elvis, but you’re stopped by someone else whose name escaped you - barely greeting you; 

“Look babydoll, last night, you made me the best Mai Tai of my life, and I’m sure you’re all…” he looks sideways, “as well trained as each other, but honey,  I’d really like it if you could do me another one?” You somehow manage to keep your face in check even though you want to scream at his barely concealed innuendo. Instead, you agree, customer service smile on your face, and turn to the rest of the compartment asking if they were all ready for drinks. There’s a resulting chorus of orders and so you head over to the bar to get started. Elvis hadn’t responded, walking out when you’d walked in - he’d gone right into the conference space and one of the boys had mimed a phone to his ear at another's questioning face. You were a little hurt to not be acknowledged but also, truthfully, a little relieved to not have to deal with him for the second. But it wasn’t to last long, upon delivering the other drinks with the other girls to many a relieved sigh,  a different man had pointed through to the conference area, gesturing to the bar, 

“Think you should take the boss a little pick me up too.” You nod in agreement but he hadn’t drank last time and you have no idea what that would mean making so instead you pour a short glass of cola, hoping that’ll do at least, and balancing the glass on the tray, head through the little curtained archway. You try not to show any emotion when you walk through, keeping your face neutral and concentrating on holding the drinks tray, the slight tip of the plane was liable to send a single glass sliding if you didn’t balance it perfectly. You hear him before you see him, curled against the wall with the phone pressed to his ear. His fingers twirling the cord as he looked out of the window, but with how dark it was outside he could only be looking at his reflection. You’d intended your poker face to display that you weren’t going to be the first to crack, to acknowledge anything but now you’re having to maintain it to retain dignity once you hear what he’s saying. He’s sweet-talking a girl, uttering promises and reassurances; 

“No, honey, darling, no - would I be ringing you now? You don’t need to nag me baby, that’s right you’re my baby aren’t ya, ye-ah, put it on your card honey, on my card, yeah that’s no problem… you know I like you in blue…” 

You know you have no claim on him; despite your activities together you’ve barely spoken to him, and you’ve only known the man 24 hours and yet a weird surge of possessiveness fills you. Or is it even possessiveness? Or just plain jealousy? Half the trouble was that you’ve never wanted someone like this — you’d never understood why the girls at school would fawn over a specific boy, it had never interested you. You’d never lain awake wondering what you should wear or how you should style your hair to best catch their attention. But today, just this morning, you’d nipped out to the nearest drugstore to the hotel and frivolously bought a new lipstick; you had no need for a new one, and certainly not in the colour you’d chosen - far flashier than you would usually wear, for some reason certain it would catch his eye, but you’d been unable to resist the temptation of putting on a bit of a show for him. To have that gone to waste, for him to ignore you, preoccupied with worrying about appeasing some other girl? Who wasn’t even there? You were annoyed at yourself, for being hurt by his actions and for doing it in the first place. 

He finally spots you in the window and he turns, waving you over, reaching out a hand for his drink off of your tray. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge you, or pause in his conversation, simply demanding you come closer with an impatient hand raised. You come towards him, dipping to allow him to easily take the glass, and you watch as he immediately tips it back for a gulp and places the half-full glass back onto the tray. He makes a little mmhmm noise down the phone as he turns his attention back to the call, and the girl on the other end. You turn to leave, not willing to simply stand there and wait for him to want the glass again, jumping when you feel him swat at your exposed thigh. You whirl back around, ready to either playfully (or truthfully, actually) confront him - once was fine but twice? But, before you can he’s back giving his attention to the phone again, looking out of the window. You take it as the dismissal he meant it, and you hate that as you walk away you add an extra sway to your walk - bunny tail bobbing with the motion - just in case he’s looking, and that you can feel your slightly smug smile from even that touch.

It feels like hours, but it was probably only twenty or so minutes later when he returns to the forward compartment, settling down into the large sofa-seat in the middle of the cabin. You’re forced to walk past a moment later and he grabs your arm on the way; 

“You look real good today Bunny - very cute.” You wiggle your tail at him and he chuckles; that deep laugh that starts in his chest but ends in his belly. His head rocks and it causes his loose hair to flop about, so different from it’s stiff look from the years prior. You beam at him, pleased to have been so entertaining. He looks you up and down again, still holding onto you,

“Like the lips darlin’. You wear that just for me?” You shake your head no, but he just laughs at you, “Ohhhh, you did it for ol’ Joe over there then did ya?” Feeling the catch-22 you’ve put yourself into you frown, you don’t want to admit that you did do it for him, but god do you not want him to even jokingly suggest you were trying to attract one of the other guys. So you do the next best thing, shaking your head and teasing him back.

“Nu-uh it was for me.” He laughs back at you, his eyes crinkling. When he calms back down he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“ O’course it was honey,” You protest his condescending tone,

“It was!” You gesture down at yourself,  “I don’t put all this on just for you,” He laughs again, eyes crinkling as he crows at you; shouting to the rest of the boys.

 “Ooh-hoo we got ourselves a real-life feminist bunny over here!” He says it mockingly, adding a sneer; “Watch out Ms. Steinem!” He scoffs,  “Now hon-ney, we both know it ain’t true… so why don’t you stop playing hard to get, admit you made yourself all pretty for me and come and sit over here. Right on daddy’s knee.” He pats his lap. You frown, you were a feminist, but his lap did look pretty inviting, and your heels were already hurting and you had wanted his attention. So, you do. 

“I’m only doing this because you’re paying me.” He chuckles again, one hand coming around you to hold your waist, the other coming to hike your legs further up and across him, his broad hand rubbing your thigh as he does so;

“Sure thing honey - you want me to tip you a little extra for whatever we’re about to do in there?” He nods his head towards the back of the plane. You frown a little, you know he’s joking but you’re suddenly a little worried he does think you’re paid to provide him with extra services. ‘We naturally do not tolerate any merchandising of the bunnies.’ That’s what the bunny bible says. Its word is law, so it’s not true that any extra services are expected. But then, when you think about it, you were told to be…nice to him. The annoying thought then registers, less concern about whether what you’re doing is against the rules, that you hope he realises that you’re doing this because you want to and not just because you’ve been told to. You try to shake this thought off, be casual - c’mon be casual, the mantra running through your head as you attempt to push all other thoughts and feelings out. After all, you don’t want him to think you’re not fun, or reading too much in to anything. 

“No-o, that’s, that’s, that’s just an added bonus.” You stroke down the zipper of his jacket, and he laughs again, grabbing your hand and kissing the knuckles.  He spreads your hands in his, assessing them. 

“God, you got such pretty little fingers baby, look at them lil’ nails  - what’s that colour called? Call-Girl Red? Scarlet Tart?” You blush, but you’re able to laugh, recognising that he would only continue to suggest increasingly ridiculous names until you did. He holds you there while he finishes his conversation with the boys, fingers brushing over your skin, until finally, he pats your thigh phrasing an order as a question - “Come through to the bedroom, doll?” You stand up, waiting for him to lead the way to the bedroom at the back of the plane; instead he stands and gestures ahead of him.

“C’mon bunny, hop to it,” He pauses, grinning after his borderline tragic bunny pun as if waiting for a laugh; you comply with a polite giggle even though it’s really not that funny, and take his hand when he holds it out, “let’s go.” When you cross into the bedroom he lets go, leaving you to sit down on the huge elliptical bed while he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You try to breathe, wondering what he has planned when he returns. 

You have no idea why you’re suddenly so nervous. There’s a rising sensation of breathlessness travelling up your chest, your stomach churning a little. You feel inexplicably sick, and for a moment you worry, as the plane bobs the tiniest bit - the motion normally soothing, that you might actually puke. He’s still in the bathroom, and you’re trying to calm yourself down - what will you say to him when he comes out? He’s expecting something now. You don’t want to miss out on anything, it had been so good last time; you didn’t want this to be the new lasting memory of your, however brief, time together. You try to tell yourself you’re being ridiculous - c’mon now, calm down, you’re fine - it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before - not like you haven’t done this before, why are you doing this - don’t ruin it for yourself - oh my god why are you such a little baby get a grip.  But that clawing feeling is climbing your chest and you’re struggling to swallow - to breathe. You’re ripping off your little bow and collar as hurriedly as you can but it doesn’t make a difference. You sink down lower, practically lying down now, attempting to practice deep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s in that moment he comes bounding out of the bathroom - looking you over, as if he’d expected to be ready to pounce; not deal with you still fully dressed (as much as you could be in the bunny corset) and close to tears. 

“Hey - hey honey what’s this?” He sounds panicked, and his pitch only increases at the tear falling down your cheek. You try to speak but can’t; “Just - Just talk to me bunny, what, what’s wrong?”  You whine at him, trying to sit up and look at him rather than peep from your horizontal angle. He makes it easier by sitting by you on the bed and peering down at your face. 

“Nuh-uh-thing,” You finally gasp out, “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just - just got myself all twisted.” A tear slips out, and you angrily brush it away trying to stem the flow. He looks concerned for a second, patting your arm.

“I won’t - we haven’t -  we don’t gotta do anything baby, you know that? Not gotta do a thing you don’t wanna do.” He sounds unsure, like he’s not had to deal with this before, or like he’s nervous he’s upset you. It only makes the tears fall a little faster - at how nice he’s being to you when you don’t feel as though you deserve it.

“No-o no I know, I want to,  I just can’t seem to stop,” You talk through your hitched breaths, trying to explain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t breathe.” He hums, looking over at the little table that ran the length of the wall, at the little black bag settled there before patting his thighs and sighing. 

“Right. ‘nough messing about - lemme just get one of the boys to call Dr. -” 

“No! No! No - I want you! I wanna do this!” You roll onto your side, scrambling upright and turning to grip his jacket, twisting it in your fist. “I wanna - Elvis I promise I’ll be fine in a second just need to calm down. Catch my breath.”

“Well, if its just you’re breathing all funny let me just give you a puff of an inhaler; they’ve barely got anything in them, just wet your throat really but- but they do help,” You shake your head and he sighs again, as if unhappy you’d refuse the offer. But then he nods, almost to himself, and taking matters into his own hands - hauls you up to be leaning against this thick, sturdy, chest. The zipper was a little lower than before and another button of his shirt has popped open allowing you to pillow your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you feel yourself come down. Shame creeping up as you become fully lucid at how irrational you’d behaved. You sit there for a little while - maybe as long as twenty minutes, but could be as short as ten. Elvis hums song after song at you, occasionally breaking into a little quiet verse, chest hairs tickling you as he moved. Finally you feel sane enough to push up a little, pulling away.

“Sorry - Sorry don’t know what came over me.” You stare at his chest, avoiding making eye contact. He brushes his hand over your chin, pulling it up to force you to look at him. He’s looking at you with an expression of tenderness that’s almost too much to bear. 

“S’all right doll, told you - it’s all fine.” You give him a tentative smile. 

“I’m sure that wasn’t very …sexy of me, but I do wanna give it another go, please Elvis?” He looks at you hard for a moment, directly in your eyes, as if attempting to judge you were being serious. He clearly decides you were because a moment later he’s leaning over you and moving his hand up your leg. 

But when his hand grazes your upper thigh, travelling upwards you feel yourself tense, suddenly stiff as a board. He kisses your neck, and his hand retreats. He spends a long couple of minutes stroking your arm, kissing your neck - your ears. Before attempting it for a second time. Again he gets most of the way there before you go stiff and tense. He moves his hand back to your arm,  talking lowly and slowly, practically whispering. 

“Now, darlin’ s’ok - we’ve done it before baby.” He’s soothing you like you’re a skittish horse, crooning into your ear, “If you wanna do this I need you to relax for me darling. Can’t do anything otherwise.” You nod, agitated at the accusation that you’re not already attempting to relax. 

“I’m trying Elvis - I want to too! I just, it’s involuntary!” He hums - looking over at the bag again -

“Look, honey, I’ve got some, some ‘ludes you can take,” You frown, you didn’t think Elvis was known for doing disco drugs. “I take ‘em to uh help me settle down baby.” You start to speak, perhaps to question the veracity of this claim or where he gets these from - considering his position on recreational drugs. But before you can he’s talking again; “Don’t get me wrong doll, I’m not - don’t get it twisted - they’re prescribed.” He pauses again - “But they’ll sort you right out, real leg spreaders. Won’t change your mind, if you say you want it you still will but, trust me, they’ll relax your body enough.” You shake your head at him, not admitting that while you would love to breathe the concept of not being in complete control of your body was terrifying, instead taking deep breaths to try and force yourself to relax a little more. 

“No-no, no need for that, ‘m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me - I’m so nervous today - I just, sorry - just need another minute.” He sighs again, and although the irrational part of your brain worries it’s in annoyance you can tell he’s more annoyed about you consistently declining his offers of help. He’s still doing his best to soothe you, delicate fingers firmly rubbing your arms and sides, a constant motion. “I just - I know it’s ridiculous, but I still feel like I can’t breathe properly.” His fingers stop on the boning of the corset, and he taps it - as if he’s discovered an answer. 

“Awh no this is silly now doll, who could all squished in there like that.” He gestures down to where your chest is threatening to spill out of the tightly laced and zipped bodice. You frown, you’re pretty sure it’s mental and not physical but now he’s drawn attention to it you feel like it’s tightening around your middle. You twist to attempt to unhook it yourself - moving forward to bend out of his lap; “No, no darling, let me - I’ll get this thing offa you.” He pushes you further forward a little way, and then with surprising skill deftly undoes the bunny corset. You don’t want to admit it but the moment the hooks fall away you do feel as if some of the air has returned to your lungs. He’s gently and firmly peeling it away from your body, pulling it down and off of your legs - tutting and stroking the little red marks where the seams and boning have dug into you a little - whether because it was just generally too tight or because you’d been contorted into a slightly awkward position. 

“Lord almighty - they doin’ that to you every day?” You shrug, about to say that it wasn’t that much worse than some of your tighter dresses or your panty girdle. He holds it up though, looking at it with distaste, rather than the humour he had the first time he’d seen it off of you -  as if seeing it for the first time. “They should make ‘em stretchier! Or - or - a better lining!” He frowns again, “I’m gonna ring Hef and tell him - it’s not right!” You shake your head, the conversation at least distracting you from your lungs. 

“Elvis - it’s not like I’m meant to be naked right now. How would you supposedly know.” You gesture down at yourself, a little flushed at the realisation that you were, in fact topless and therefore nude from the waist up. He laughs at you, a little condescendingly. 

“You ‘spect me to believe he doesn’t know what you’re up to?” He pauses, “Or that…, bunny, you know, I was, uh, warned that you girls would be… available.” You grimace, it makes you feel like a whore when it’s put like that and you try to return you mind to the point you were trying to make. 

“Well, still, if it’s because of me that the boat gets rocked - I like my job, and it was at your request we’re proper bunnies today and not in our flight uniforms!” He rolls his eyes at you, huffing at the accusation.

“Ok, ok. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You laugh a little, and you notice your chest bobbing with the motion - it makes you suddenly very aware of your nudity, probably a sign that you’re starting to return to normal, and you wrap an arm around your middle while scrambling to sit properly upright instead of in a semi recline. He looks at you sideways, starting to lean down, 

“Well - now we got that sorted - “ You cut him off,

“It wasn’t about that - it was just, I just got all caught in my head, I think I’m a little messed up; it happens every now and again. It just - anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Could you, sorry, would you pass me my bag from over there?” You nod towards the bag just inside the door, it had been a little presumptuous perhaps but you’d left it close enough that if you had missed the mark it wouldn’t have been tricky to move or hide it. “I’ll get changed now.” He frowns, he’s sat upright again himself, but doesn’t move for the bag, instead pulling your arm around and dragging you to sit over his legs again - he leans back, pulling your head to lie on his chest. 

“Babe - there’s nothing wrong with you… you just gotta, gotta put a little of it into the air, believe it’s happening for a reason.” He pauses, one arm moving up to wrap around your waist, the other stroking your arm, catching on the little cuff that was still there. “You gotta promise you won’t - it’s no secret, not anymore, but I don’t share this with everyone - so you promise you won’t laugh?” You nod, as best you can - he sounds nervous. “My mama, she er, she always used to say I was real special, that I had a gift.” You nod again, assuming this is about to lead into him singing something to you which, while you didn’t think it was going to be key to ending these nerve attacks you keep having, is certainly not something you would discourage. “But, she uh used to say I had the power to heal things, and, and I think its true baby, so will you - maybe if we can; if I can give you some of my ‘nergy and we think about it - real hard - together, we might get somewhere? Just gotta, gotta connect - spiritually. Maybe if I, If I push on you, and we meditate together we might, it might help?” He looks so hopeful and sounds so earnest that, despite your misgivings about the veracity of these claims, you agree. 

“Ok, ok - if you think, if it might help. I just, I do wanna do things with you, I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You won’t baby, you won’t.” He sits down, cross legged at the top of the bed, pulling you around to sit in front of him. He makes no mention of your nakedness, and you’re doing your best not to notice it yourself. “Ok, honey, so just, I’m gonna put my hands here, and you’re just going to breathe with me ok?” His eyes are bright, and his face open, like he’s simply excited to be able to share this with someone. You nod, placing your hands on top of where his are resting on his thighs. “Hold on baby, let’s get these offa ya too.” And he unbuttons your little cuffs, rubbing your wrists where they’d sat, “You don’t hafta, don’t need to think about anything ok darling? You just sit there, and focus on my hands and match my breathing ok? I’ll do all the hard work.” You nod again, and he shuffles himself a little, as if getting himself ready to settle in. “Oh - and I want you to close your eyes.” You look at him for a second, attempting to gauge that he’s being serious and this isn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. He gazes back at you, blue eyes completely calm, and you let your eyes slip closed. He hums a moment later, and then you feel him clasping your hands. 

You can tell he’s focussing his breathing, slowing it down and drawing it out, and you match him as best you can, feeling him spread your fingers and press his palms into yours. It takes all of your attention and sufficiently distracts you from your panic and worry that quickly you don’t realise you’re no longer thinking about anything but the light pressure of his hand on yours and the air filling your lungs. 

You’re entirely focussed on his slow, measured breaths, and your mind is blank - it’s almost a surprise when an immeasurable time later he flexes his hands, whispering at you to open your eyes. You come back up slowly, blinking in the artificial light of the plane, despite Elvis having used the dimmer. 

Although you do, admittedly, feel better you’re still not wholly convinced by his healing properties. What you are grateful for however, is how happy he looks when you open your eyes, as if pleased to have been given the opportunity. And regardless of the ability to heal you, you also feel like something has changed. A shift in the energy between you. 

His hand grasps yours, his fingers releasing you to trail up your wrist, up your forearm, and stroke back down to your palms again, brushing his fingers all the way down to your very fingertips and starting all over again. The motion of it, after the intimacy of the last half hour sends your nerve-endings alight, goosebumps forming over your flesh. You feel completely calm, completely ready for him again, your posture straight but relaxed. He moves his hands further up, brushing against your armpits and you gasp as he tickles you the tiniest amount. Suddenly, you find yourself up on your knees - leaning into him, falling into him. Your hands cupping his face, fingers tangling in his sideburns. He catches you in his relaxed arms, the soft fabric of his jacket rubbing against your nipples. He’s still breathing quite deeply, mouth parted - and it allows you to press your lips against his, tongue rapidly falling into his mouth. His hands spread across your torso, curving around your chest as you lean into him - trying to get as physically close to him as you emotionally feel.

His thumbs twirl in circles and your back arches as your nipples pebble against his soft touch - your pussy suddenly starting to feel unbearably hot in its three layers of tights and panties. You huff against his lips, pulling back to grasp the waistband of them all - determined to simply roll them all down together, saving them from him, and you do so in one motion almost immediately regretting that it left you completely bare while he was still fully clothed. He doesn’t give you a chance for it to be more than a fleeting thought though, lying you back, still focussed on making you breathless with his mouth. He kisses along your cheek to your neck and you gasp as he sucks on the sensitive patch just above where your collar bone joins your shoulder. You try to reciprocate, pushing the jacket off of him and struggling to unbutton the last of his shirt -  exposing his chest and stomach. He bats your hand away when you go for the top of his pants, pulling away from you and he stands up - surveying you. 

“You ready for me, baby?” You squirm a little under his gaze, and you’re not sure where the boldness comes from to reach a hand down, dragging a finger over your wetness, and spreading the folds of your labia open for him to see the glistening stickiness within. 

“I dunno, what do you think?” His mouth gapes at you, breathing heavily, the motion as unexpected to him as it was to you, and as you sink a finger into yourself, moaning while you do, he hurriedly removes his pants - throwing them somewhere, his eyes never straying from your core. He pushes your arm out of the way a moment later, 

“Think you look like a goddamn fucking centrefold - Jesus Christ, bunny, Lord, all for me, Halle-fucking-lujah,” He lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to your chest, pumping himself a few times before lining his cock up with your entrance. 

He sinks into you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that he guides into you. The slight overhang of his belly pressing against your middle as he holds you close, pressing into you as deeply as he can get. You feel every inch of him, every fold in his skin as he pushes in - you know he’s not huge, but it’s been so long that to have something in you two nights in a row, you can feel your entrance ache a little, and inside a slight burn from the stretch. He groans, feeling your tight walls clench around him as you shift, wrapping your legs around him crossing your ankles behind his back. He pants against your ear, kissing the sensitive patch of skin right behind.  He’s encasing you in him, smothering you, the smell of him - he’d clearly showered after his show, the faint hint of neutrogena still clinging to him but his own scent, the mixture of his own musk and woodsy cologne layering over it - surrounds you. It altogether feels as intimate as the meditation did - just his and your bodies entangled together. He rests there, barely rocking into you, slowly, almost tenderly - before dragging himself out, rolling off.

“Gotta let you breathe, mama - wanna get deeper.” The concept seems impossible, but he’s pushing one of you legs to the side, rolling you slightly and clambering on top, straddling your other leg and kneeling down before he’s sinking in again. 

“Oh - shit, shit - how’re you, oh my god Elvis, that’s - I’ve never,” He knocks against your walls, blindly, until he hits the little bundle of nerves inside you causing all thoughts to leave your head, unable to form a sentence past whimpering. You prop yourself up with one hand, holding onto him with the other, it’s new for you - to be able to watch someone’s face as well as watch them push themselves into you. Being able to look at his face, his mouth open, little grunts and moans flowing as his eyes half-close in pleasure is mind-blowing; beyond your wildest imagination. 

“Oh baby, mama, you’re so - oh god, how are you still so tight, you ain’t been properly broken in yet, have you, fuck,” His hips are thrusting into you now, little jolts of pleasure running down your spine and you whine as he hushes you, rubbing a hand across your tummy, moving it up to grasp at your breast. He squeezes, on the edge of too hard, swiping his thumb across your nipple as he pinches it - causing you to clench down on him again, prompting a low groan out of his own mouth. He strokes down your torso, before resting his hand on you, it feels huge across your stomach, heavy and hot almost feeling like it’s burning through you. He slips his thumb lower, coaxing your clitoris out from hiding. 

“Want you to go with me, C’mon now baby - c’mon bun, I’m close,” He slams his hips into you, “Al-most there,” His fingers rub over you a little faster, and your nails of your supporting hand dig into your own hair, the other clutching his arm, as you tumble over the edge, shouting,

“Oh - oh - oh, god, Elvis - daddy, god, fuck that’s - oh god,” You hear him swear, pulling out just in time and spraying over your stomach, his fingers coming off of you, allowing you to come down, your body still trembling for a few moments.  

When you feel like you’re properly back on earth, a few minutes later, you’re still lying back, panting, while you hear him stand and  get himself wiped off.  Coming over to you to gently wipe away the mess on your tummy. He looks over at you, eyes still half-lidded, 

“C’mon ‘lil bunny, time to get back to work.” He pats your thighs and you shakily stand up. Despite his hurry he behaves almost unexpectedly gentlemanly and fetches your bag for you from beside the door. “Ain’t gonna make you put that torture device back on - you can do the leather if you want.” You frown, thinking for a moment - everyone will know what you’ve been up to then, but then you laugh to yourself a little - everyone already certainly knows. You pause before getting your underwear back on, slightly surprised at his speed, looking over at him; 

“You sure you won’t…don’t wanna go again?” He looks a little bashful for a second, 

“ ‘m not, I’m an ole man now baby.” Is all he says in reply, but it does the job in conveying what he meant. You look over at him - not sure that you’d describe him as old, he’s what… 38, 39? But you leave it be - dressing in the little leather coat/wrap dress. As you sit to roll your tights over your legs though he stops you, looking you over. “Bunny? Leave off the hose.” 

“Sure daddy, sure.” You obey, stripping them off again and pulling your boots onto your bare legs - undoubtedly you’ll get a blister but it’s worth it for the pleased way he looks at you and the kiss on the top of your head in reward for your obedience. You nip into the bathroom, trying to sort your hair and touch up your make-up, and by the time you’re ready to come out he’s gone. 

You walk out with your head up, and while you’re greeted with a series of smirks and some whispers you’re not as panicked about it as before, and you’re relieved he came out before you, positive that he took the brunt of any teasing. He winks at you when you pass him, dressed without his shirt now, but otherwise ignores you. This doesn’t upset you like before -  you’re content that only you and him truly know what’s just gone on and that your new, intimate, connection is safe and tucked away just for the two of you. It feels like you’ve been wrapped up in him for days and yet when you look over at the clock ticking away you realise you’ve only been in the air for an hour and a half. You feel a little like you’ve left a tiny part of yourself in that room with him, and that you should feel more vulnerable - more exposed than you do. Instead, you feel calm - your tension almost completely gone and with that you start to feel the possibility that you might actually be able to enjoy the next few hours. 

A couple of hours later, you’re dancing in the disco room - providing entertainment although you’re sure most of them, certainly Elvis, should be sleeping; unsure where the burst of energy from everyone has come from. But still, you’re dancing about with the other girls, playfully messing around, when he - from his sat position, lavender tinted glasses now on his nose, pulls you down to whisper in your ear,

“C’mon bunny, give me a little show - pick one of ‘em.” He gestures to the other girls bobbing around you. You look at him, mouth open, a little shocked at his bold request - so different from the sweet, slow, intimate behaviour from earlier. It’s not something you’re totally opposed to, but….in public? It’s as if he’s reading your mind; reassuring you -

“S’ok, baby, s’just us up here - just me and m���boys,” He pats you on the thigh, “Go on - there’s a good girl.” You stumble forward a little and make eye contact with Maggie - who was already looking over, clearly eager to share his attention. You look back over to Elvis, watching him grin at her, pleased that she seems so willing, “Just wanna watch you two kiss honey, nothing more - don’t gotta be that dirty but just… just a little. Just for me.” You nod, steeling yourself. But Maggie isn’t reluctant in any way, threading her fingers through yours to pull you closer. The tie of your leather dress brushes against her bare thigh, still in the bunny corset, and you feel her shudder against you as you step completely into her space. 

It’s a little strange, kissing her, different but simultaneously essentially the same. The startling difference was the … niceness of it, it was sweet and slow and gentle. Different from the lip biting and teasing of the men you’d kissed. You forget, for a moment, all the other people in the room, it’s narrowed to just the three of you although really you’re putting on a show for everyone, and you open your eyes - watching Elvis watch you. Despite Maggie’s lips on yours - her soft body still pressed against you - your focus is solely on him. His eyes are burning into you, and his legs are spread, thighs thick and inviting. You put a little more effort in, grasping her hair, rubbing down her back, and you listen to him huff a little chuckle when you jokingly squeeze her tail, and slot your leg between hers. You keep eye contact behind her head, watching him swallow, shifting a little to rub a hand over himself - completely unabashed at doing so in front of everyone. The sight of him sat there, looking like a sultan surveying his harem, blue eyes serious and intense, makes your eyes slip closed, and you put all your focus into the feeling of being watched and being kissed. You pull away, laughing as you both sway a little from the force of coming apart - you look over at him; 

“That alright Da-El?” He beams at you, 

“Perfect girls - so goddamn perfect.” He pats his thigh, the outline of his hardening cock almost completely visible, “Why don’t you come over here bunnies, let me have a better look.” You both do as he asks, giggling, as you tumble together onto his lap. It’s messier now, more fun, her hands scrabbling down your sides, and yours cupping her cheeks. You feel so hyper from it all that you almost feel drunk. His hand moves to support your lower back as you lean across to kiss Maggie again, giggling a little against her lips as she almost tips backwards until his arm catches her. 

“God, men fucking dream about this dolls - two little bunnies sat in their laps. But this is just for me ain’t it? Just for me?” His head is tipped back, but he swings it forward to look at you both - intensely, possessively. How a man could be possessive over two women he’d only known 48 hours, on a plane he didn’t even own, was mind-boggling - the sheer confidence required for that kind of thought overwhelming. Yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it, your own head nodding insistently to reassure him. Maggie looks askance at you, but still rapidly nods - the slight lie going unnoticed. His thigh flexes and where you’ve leant forward has hitched your tiny skirt up high enough that you’re now entirely sat feeling the soft fabric encasing his thigh underneath you rub against your bare legs. You can’t help but rock against it, just the tiniest amount. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, and instead of the shame you expected to feel, your stomach tightens in arousal at the sensation of being watched. He lets out a little moan, and it only makes you work harder, slipping your tongue into Maggie’s mouth as she pants against your lips. You feel Elvis’  hand slide up your body to the side of your ribcage, his thumb brushing your breast. You pull back, and he gasps as you stroke the outside of his soft trouser leg, gently rubbing the fabric over his cock. Elvis abruptly stands, pushing you both off. 

“Think there might be some important business I need to do in Hef’s office. Why don’t you two run along ahead - gonna need,” he looks sideways, jokingly, playing it up for your forgotten audience, “gonna need a couple of helping hands.” You give what can only be described as a polite smile, wondering what on earth has gotten into you that you were willing to display yourself like that in public. But for whatever reason you’re walking back into the bedroom again - this time following behind Maggie. You’re watching her from behind, and though you’ve seen her in uniform countless times you’re suddenly left wondering if her shape has always looked that inviting to grab - or if the teddy had always revealed so much of her ass. She seems far more at home in Hugh’s private quarters than you ever did the first time, and you realise suddenly that it’s very probable this isn’t her first time back here with a guest. The realisation shoots a burst of anxiety through you again, that you try to immediately brush away, that this whole thing really was just expected of you. 

Elvis shuts the door behind him when he comes in, immediately setting the mood lighting. Before resting his hand on your back and pulling you in for a quick kiss. It’s strange kissing him again now, you expect for some reason his lips to feel rough in comparison to Maggie’s, masculine instead of her soft femininity,  but as always his lips are full and buttery soft a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of his personality. He pulls away too soon and you find yourself leaning into him, eyes still closed, chasing the sensation, pouting when he laughs at you. 

“You good to go honey, or do you need a hand givin’ me a show?” You’re confused by what he’s offering, until you notice he’s holding out his hand two little pills sat in it. “Just vitamins baby,” You shake your head, you’re a little nervous but despite the environment you’re working in you’ve not taken anything yet, and the concept of it scares you more than your nerves. You’re surprised though when Maggie’s hand comes from nowhere, plucking one of them out of his palm and swallowing it dry. He beams at her, “Atta girl.” Maggie giggles at him, 

“Thank you daddy,” and he glances over at you, sideways, again before swallowing the leftover pill. 

He claps his hands, before suddenly, playfully, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You’re shocked at the display of physicality - not expecting it at all, and even more surprised when a moment later Maggie is thrown in much the same manner, bumping onto the bed and knocking into you. He settles himself up by the cushions, looking expectantly at the pair of you of you sprawled out and he gestures to the rest of the bed. He shifts, settling his hands on his open thighs, the hard outline of his cock almost completely visible through his pants. He clenches them into fists, like he’s trying not to touch. He looks, with his hair wild and his glasses on, so classically - typically Elvis that it makes your heart rate increase just watching him.

“Go on then, pretty little bunnies - wanna see you two - wanna see you havin’ fun. Give me a show.” It’s not a request but a command, and even if you’d wanted to (which you didn’t) you can’t do anything but obey. 

Maggie responds with a “Yes, sir,” as you move to situate yourself, kneeling at the bottom of the bed and she crawls over to meet you. This time she takes control, kissing you, her hands moving over the little leather coat-dress. It feels different having her lithe, nylon covered leg pushing in between yours instead of Elvis’ thick thigh. You wouldn’t go so far to say it’s better, but the friction against your thin panties and the way it allows your legs and thighs to stay fairly close, to clench and move is appealing. You can’t help but rock against her, clutching at her waist -  she laughs into your mouth, pulling your hair a little as she presses gentle kisses down your neck. You gasp, head falling back, before you pull away to lean forward again, catching her face between your hands, you rub against her, drawing her front back towards you - you giggle, whispering, 

“Mags’ I can’t - can’t believe we’re doing this...” Elvis chuckles behind you, clearly you weren’t as quiet as you thought, and that makes you laugh harder. It’s fun and flirty and you haven’t felt this chill about something in a while - the ability to just zone out and enjoy the sensations without having to worry about the future. You start to unbelt your dress, trying to move quickly - frantically, and as soon as you’ve got it unbuttoned Maggie is palming at you, pushing it down your shoulders. She moves forward a little more, and you lean back - letting Elvis get a better look at your newly uncovered skin. She moves her hand to brush against your panty-covered mound and you gasp. Your head falling forward onto her shoulder at the feel, so different from your own fingers or his thick digits, she moves her leg and you’re suddenly humping against nothing - you whine into the air, Elvis interrupting you as you try to pull her back.  

“Sl-slow down girls, get tha’ dress off and go a lil’ slower - there’s no rush. No need to rush now - just slow - slow it down.”  You nod trying to still your hips, gasping out, 

“Ok, ok, daddy - well - we’ll slow -ah- down,” and Maggie pushes you, both of you tumbling backwards. You roll for a moment, the silk of Maggie’s costume rubbing against your skin, the coolness a welcome relief to your burning skin. You suddenly catch, out of the corner of your eye, Elvis shifting, his arm moving at a rapid pace and you don’t know why, considering what you’re currently doing, you’re shocked to realise he has his cock out, that he’s touching himself watching you. You accidentally make eye contact, and you’re taken aback by the look on his face, his lip curling in pleasure. To be watched with such burning desire is shocking, and would be enough to make you shy had you not had this overwhelming sexual confidence come over you from somewhere. You absently think that you should probably help Maggie out of her corset, the pufftail isn’t comfortable to lie in and she was probably wishing for more breathability right now, but before you can offer she’s stroking a finger down you and all thoughts fly out of your head. She looks up at Elvis, questioning something that you can’t hear through your single-minded tunnel vision and hearing, but you manage to catch his reply; 

“No - no, just - just, just over top, honey, not - no, that’s just for me.” And she resumes to touching you over the top of the growing dampness of your panties, you groan at the sheer level of objectification; at being spoken about as if you were just there for his amusement, that you were his. Maggie renews her efforts though, and her fingers quickly, even over the soft cotton fabric of your underwear, find the spot to make you squirm, hips bucking into her. She soothes you, and you wonder if you should be reciprocating in some way but as her delicate fingers push the tiniest fold of fabric into you, you’re lost clutching at the fur throw, the slight friction easing as it gathers up your slick. She moves her finger to circle around your clit, bunching the fabric between her thumb and fingers and rubbing it against you. You somehow manage to blink open your eyes, leaning your head all the way back to look at Elvis; his entire focus is on what’s happening between your legs - it causes a shudder to run through you, and your stomach tightens as you feel your legs start to cramp; 

“Go on baby, hold it for me, hold it - don’t - want you to keep her just there for me - that’s it. Stop stop, that’s just for me.” She pulls her hand away and your back arches as whine, so close to the edge. 

He leans in gripping Maggie’s neck to kiss her and you can hear the wet smack of their lips together, he pulls back, briefly “Don’t worry, honey, don't wanna make you jealous…just wanna say thank you for such a lovely show - that’s alright isn’t it?” You can’t do anything but agree and he returns to her, hands on her neck and head to hold her in place. Watching it up close you can understand why he wanted to watch himself, you wonder if that’s what you look like with him too; all teeth and tongue and lips. You squirm, still feeling the possibility of your orgasm. 

“Now go on, there’s a good girl, run along now, thank you darling - You gonna be alright? You want me to get one of the boys to uh, see to ya properly?” She shakes her head, almost fondly as if laughing that she might need his help to find a willing partner.  “Well - You tell ‘em I said it’s ok.” He sends her on her way like he’s pimping her out for the night, you hate how it makes your core throb a little, and you can’t help but glow at being the very obviously chosen one; not just one night but two in a row. Maggie looks back at you, still lying on the fur throw, winks and leaves - sauntering through the door. When she’s gone Elvis turns back to you, rubbing sweeping circles on your stomach,

“Just wanna get you goin’ again for me,” His hand starts to trail down, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you put your own out - grasping his wrist to stop him wanting him to know;

“Daddy, I’ve never - that was my first time with,” He laughs, 

“Oh, honey, I know, I know. Did you like it?” You nod, and he laughs again, “I’ll bring my camera next time baby, can’t believe Hef’s not got one installed in here somewhere. What a waste.” He tries to move but you hold his hand where it is, causing him to look calculatingly over you, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Was there something you wanted?” 

“I…” You squirm under the pressure of his gaze and the tone of his voice. 

“C’mon bunny, tell me what you want.” You nod, a bit nervous - but you had stopped his hand for a reason. 

“Could you, would you… you know.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he responds, 

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?” 

“Ohh - you want me to go back down on you? Have another taste of that sweet yittle bunny cunt?” You wriggle at his harsh wording mixed with his babying tone, but you frantically nod. He grins, taking his glasses off and throwing them somewhere on the bed.

“Well ain’t today just my lucky day.” He manhandles you into a better position, ripping your underwear off, pushing you against the cushions and shoving one underneath your hips -  moving to situate himself between your thighs. He wiggles like a cartoon about to be served at a restaurant - almost certainly to make you laugh and you comply, nervously giggling, mind preoccupied with hoping that you taste alright now that you’ve asked for it. He spreads you open, kissing your inner thigh before moving closer to your core, and you can feel yourself pulse with anticipation.

He tentatively licks you, just a gentle, wet stripe and you immediately gasp - eyes flying wide open, startled at how sensitive you already felt. Although it shouldn’t come as any surprise, you’d been slick and swollen since you’d fucked earlier, and a bit sore since last night. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, and moves his fingers in to keep you spread open. Your hips buck of their own accord when he wets his lips and blows cold air onto you, watching you squirm and clench in response. You can feel his smile before he concentrates again his tongue lapping at your entrance. Your legs come up, needing more support to better grind onto him and your hands move down to grip his hair, thumbs digging into the side of his face, his sideburns, while your fingers find purchase in his long strands, gently holding him in place. He renews his efforts, flicking his tongue in your inner folds and he moves one of his hands to brace your stomach down as he moves to lick directly over your clit - your hips thrusting up enough in response for you to understand the necessity of his hand holding you down. You didn’t realise you could become addicted to the feel of something so quickly, but you’re not sure you’re going to be able to live without someone, preferably him, doing this to you regularly. The warm wet pressure builds, and on top of where you were already on the edge it’s quickly building to be almost too much. He pulls back just as you think you’re about to go over the edge and you groan, but he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick. 

“Oh god - is that, is that me on you?” He grins, 

“Sure is baby, sweetest honey from my honey bun-bun.” He licks his lips, and you groan again, your tummy flipping from how close you still feel, 

“Elvis - Daddy - need you, need more,” He leans back down, whispering, crooning in babytalk to your pussy; 

“Oh baby, baby, poor little, yittle, baby bunny - daddy’s gonna take real good care of you now, no more games baby, no that’s right, gonna get you right there,” He presses his lips to your clit kissing it, nose buried in you. Your entire focus is on the sensations as he moves down to spear his tongue into you, so different from a finger or cock and you almost choke from the force of the puff of air you exhale, as he curls it just so; you didn’t even know it was possible to do that and you wonder how much practice at this he really has. 

You can’t bear to look down at him anymore, the sight of his long lashes brushing against you, reminding you of who it was between your legs, watching you almost too much and you throw your head back, eyes closing as he thrusts his tongue in and out. He moves to add his thumb in, rubbing over your clit as his tongue continues to do its job, soothingly licking where you’re sore around the entrance to your hole. Your stomach tightens as he maintains a steady pace and you clench around him, thighs coming to rest on either side of his head, as you rock on his tongue and fingers. It’s not long, only moments when the pressure and movement get you there, body jumping as you crest over the wave of your orgasm. He licks you through it, and it means you just keep going. It’s overwhelming, and not something you’ve experienced before, the extended shaking and shuddering as you jolt around, jumping with every fizzle of pleasure. Finally, he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again, panting as you force your body to relax. 

A minute or so later you’re able to sit up a little more, opening your eyes properly again. You look over at Elvis and he’s got his cock in his hand - you’re tired but you feel like you have to show him some kind of appreciation for the best orgasm of your life so you lean up on your elbows, reaching a hand down to join his, you pump it once or twice before whispering to him,

“Let me Daddy,” and you sink your mouth down onto him. He gasps in surprise swearing

“Lord hav- oh god baby, bunny, oh shit.” as you hum around him, swallowing. He was clearly already very close and it only takes a couple of moments in the hot, wet, pressure of your mouth and throat before he’s warning you, 

“Gonna, it’s, I’m gonna go off baby, it’s - I’m close, real fu-cking close.” And with that he thrusts once, twice, while you hollow your cheeks - sucking down hard and that’s all it takes for him to be spurting into your mouth. You flinch, surprised, despite his warning, at the speed the taste unexpected, but still you swallow it down. “Fuck - fuck, thank you bunny, thank you.” He’s sweet, offering more gratitude than you’ve ever received from a man. You kiss his tip as you pull away and once again fall onto your back. You lie back, panting, and he joins you, curling around you - cuddling into you for the first time since you started this whole thing. You roll into him, enjoying being cradled in his thick arms, trying to comprehend the events of the past forty eight hours and how you’re going to be returning back to your normal life in only another few hours, wondering what Maggie chose to do, when he starts to talk, fingers tracing circles on your arms. 

“You know - my daddy’s - I got ‘im buyin’ me my own jet.” Your brow furrows a little, unsure where he’s going with this - “I uh, I - you’ll still have a cute little outfit, I like - like to dress ma girls up but, but I promise it’ll be … stretchy and uh, I won’t - I won’t assume anything but - but I  sure would like it if you, you would come on board with me?” He perhaps should have stopped there but he keeps talking, “It also - it would mean more time together, bunny, fewer girls around. Well…fewer in uniform anyway.” You grimace a little - so what is he suggesting; you be his on call plane whore? You hate that you want it, hate that you’re so desperate for him, in any way you can have him - to whatever capacity he’s available that you’re going to agree. 

“Of course - that would, that would be a dream come true Elvis, I would love to,” You’re not entirely stupid though. You smile at him, agreeing but not believing - this happens all the time in the clubs too; men promising things that never materialise - the drunker they get the more outlandish the claims; cars, houses, vacations, jobs. You know of too many girls who quit because they were promised a job as someone’s secretary only for the role to never materialise to put too much stock into his question. Besides, you still have two more flights with Elvis already in Big Bunny’s calendar - you were sure there’s more than enough time for him to make the offer again if he was really serious. 

“Wha-what’s your schedule like?… You got a boyfriend?” You pause, uncertain where this is going, surely these were questions that should have been asked yesterday? You suddenly realise that you know he’s seeing someone if only from the overheard phone-call but that you also had no idea if you were turning into the other woman or something. Or if you were just a girl to pass the time with. 

“I - uh, no. No, no-one. I’m not, we’re kept quite busy…” He frowns, kissing the top of your shoulder,

“Would you, you could come watch a show if you, I’ll get tickets for you and the girls if you want?” You smile, 

“That would be lovely, thank you -” He continues, 

“You could come a little earlier if you wanted, I’m playing somewhere new tomorrow, well - uh,” he looks over at the clock, grimacing, “Today. So I gotta check the sound and things, you could come to the rehearsal? I want you there baby,” You register some shock at his last words but nod, agreeing, it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime and you go to say it but you suddenly realise, from the little puffing breaths on your shoulder he’s fallen asleep practically mid-sentence. You look around for the clock, before you, with some wonder, discover there’s still ninety minutes left of the flight and close your own eyes too. The others can do the stewarding, you’re doing the main job - keeping Elvis happy. 

#be my ally #be-my-ally #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #70s elvis fanfic #big bunny #big daddy elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you

[that-fic-girl]

Montgomery gator x AFAB reader || NSFW ||

Note: More romance than smut, wanna give y’all them belly butterflies and I believe Monty isn’t a crazy aggressive sex driven maniac. LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT.

It was getting late in the pizza plex as you walked aimlessly around the halls of rockstar row, your phone had died and there was no way you was going home after such an eventful night of dancing and singing with your friends. However, you lost all of your mates in the roaring crowd of drunken adults and screaming people.

It was the 3rd anniversary of the Freddy fazbears pizza plex so there was huge party thrown for adults held by the founder of the pizzaplex.

Your legs and feet ached and your hair was ruffled up, you tried to find the bathroom to freshen yourself up but ended up wandering to the opening of Monty’s gator golf. You’ve never been inside never mind played golf so you decided to enter the smoky green lit entrance.

Most of the visitors had left and there was only a handful left so there was pretty much no one in the area, you decided to take your sore ass in.

You scanned the walls of the golf centre, the green light shimmered brightly, making your headache lightly worse and the smoke gathered around the man made lakes smelled just like what you assumed a bayou would smell like, it filled your brain with ecstasy.

As you was walking you noticed a woman’s sign for the bathroom, your eyes lit up as you started to walk slightly faster until you felt something on your shoulder, you turned around to see a huge figure towering over you. You blinked trying to refresh your eyes to help you see the mysterious gigantic person behind you. You recognised them almost immediately.

“Hello little darlin’, what do you think you’re doing around these parts?”

His voice boomed throughout the centre, you trembled under his touch.

“I-I was lost… I was trying to find the bathroom but stumbled here”

He slumped down to your size and gave you a almost sympathetic look.

“Aww I’m sorry sweet thing, want to come with me? That bathroom is out of order”

You felt so small in his presence, his figure making you feel as if he could crush you at any moment. Despite you not even needing the bathroom, you obliged anyway.

You and Monty talked whilst walking through the halls, mainly about your every day life and what it’s like being a glamrock.

“Hahaaa! You’re funny darlin’. How come I haven’t seen you around the plex before?”

You smiled and replied,

“This was my only day off work and I’ve never really found the time to come here, but I’m glad you did”

Both of you smiled at eachother, then stared.

“You know, you’re quite beautiful. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

You blushed at the sentiment. Smiling you put a hand on his arm.

“Aren’t you a cutie! Thank you mr gator!”

He chuckled at the name, putting a hand on your lower back. He turned to you and smirked.

“Why don’t we go to my room instead? I’m sure we can have a lot of fun together”

You smiled and nodded, taking his hand and changing direction to his room.

The walk back was physically silent but the silence was telling. The way he smiled and stared at you made you feel so fuzzy in his presence. Your smile comforted him.

You entered his room, kicking some of his trashed out merch that seems to be have thrown out of your way. He guided you to the torn couch and bent down infront of you, slowly taking off your heels.

“Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

He massaged your feet, his fingers leading up to your ankle and to your calf. You blushed, feeling your stomach tighten and your breath hitch with an overwhelming feeling you kicked his hand of gently.

“You’re such a flirt, mr gator”

“Isn’t that a good thing? I can’t resist you darlin’. You’re gorgeous AND funny”

His hand slightly spreaded your legs wandering up the hem of your slim fitted dress.

Your head filled with clouds, is this really happening? Are you actually flirting with a ROBOT? He acts like a human so at least there’s a little humanity in this.

“Mmm… that’s it beautiful, keep grinding against my finger like that”

You left you dream land fantasy and darted your eyes down, you where so intoxicated by your ecstasy that you hadn’t realised you had been mindlessly grinding on and off of his hand the whole time.

You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed.

“Aww darlin’, don’t cover that pretty face up. I want to see how you react”

He smirked, his eyes glimmering in the darkness. It was dim but you could still see the lust in his eyes. Your stomach felt as if it was on fire. He rubbed you faster through your underwear as you swore under your breath and let out a few uncontrolled moans.

He moved his hand away, making your hips buck up to him, missing the sensation he was giving you. His hands slid your waist and pushed you down keeping you still.

“Cmon, I need you all nice and soaked for me before I give you it.”

You gave him a nervous look. You haven’t actually thought this through and this guy is HUGE. your breath hitched.

“You DO want it? Right darlin’?”

He shot you a concerned glance.

“y-yes YES ofcourse I do, just a little nervous. I don’t ecactly do this all the time you know.. haha..”

You chuckled nervously.

“You have nothing to worry about beautiful, I’m going to be gently I promise.”

He made you feel comfortable and warm.

He placed you horizontally on his couch, scooting over in front of your legs. He pulled them up, stretching next to eachother and leaning against his shoulders. He slowly pulled up your dress and pulled down your underwear, his breath hitching at the sight he was seeing.

“My, you are beautiful darlin’”

He opened your legs, moving his fingers down to rub your slit. He slowly lifted his hands to his crotch and pulled out his cock. You gulped at the sight.

Shifting more towards you he pushed the tip to your entrance.

“Hold on to my hand darlin’, this will hurt a bit”

He pushed inside of you, slowly and painfully. You whinced and squeezed his finger. He moved his hand to your cheek and gave you an almost apologetic look.

After a few minutes of pushing in and getting you comfortable he started to move in and out. The pain was riden out by pleasure and the overwhelming ecstasy he gave you.

He moaned and huffed in pleasure as he pounded into you. Something about the way he looked at you made your stomach tense up nervously but in a good way.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as his lifted your legs to spread them wider, hitting your good spot perfectly.

“A-ah! That’s it! Mmm.. it feels so good” you moaned, looking into his eyes.

You could tell he was at the edge due to the amount of “good girl”’s and breathy moans he let out. After a few more pumps you arched your back as you let yourself loose.

“Ahaha! That’s it darlin! Let go for me, feel good for me!”

He held onto you as he came, kissing your colorbone. It felt amazing.

His hands moved down to your legs as he got up.

“Gosh you are even more beautiful after you cum darlin’”

You giggled, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He stared into your eyes and couldn’t help but love the way your face looked lust drunk and dazed.

He pulled off your dress, trying to make you more comfortable and pulled the blanket over you. He put your phone on charge and brought you some water.

“Aww Monty, you didn’t have to do that.”

Kissing your forehead his placed the water next to the couch.

“You need it baby, you did so well for me and I don’t want you to go sleep dehydrated”

You smiled and held his cheek, drifting off to sleep.

THE END.

Hope you enjoyed my comeback. Did all of this sat next to my friend whilst she told me about internet scandals.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf monty x reader #fnaf montgomery gator x reader #fnaf montgomery x reader #fnaf x afab reader #fnafsb #montgomery gator x afab reader

[stevethehairington]

For '100 ways to say i love you' prompt can I get Steddie -72. 'I'll meet you halfway' something healing, some gentleness with a bit of angst/hurt/comfort?

hiiiii! thank you for sending this in!!

omg i got totally sucked into the idea i had for this one and just kept writing and writing so it is like. way past "ficlet" territory but i'm not even mad lfdgsdf.

anyways, i hope this fits the bill! and i hope you like it!

[read on ao3]

72. "I'll meet you halfway"

When Eddie had gotten dragged headfirst into this alternate hellscape dimension, DnD monsters-come-to-life nightmare shitshow, no one told him that by the end of it he’d be offering himself up as bat bait to do his part in putting an end to it all.

No one told him that he’d wind up mangled and shredded and torn apart, but still, somehow, alive.

No one told him that he’d be bedridden for months afterwards, as his body stitched itself back together. That some days would be painful at best, while others would be downright excruciating. That he’d barely be able to walk at first, or bathe himself, or even eat on his own.

No one told him that healing would be the most grueling part of it all.

But those were all things that Eddie could get over. Things that, with time, he could forgive. After all, it’s not like anyone had known that that’s how it was going to play out.

What Eddie could not forgive, however, was the fact that no one, not one single member of their rather large, rather extensive party — who had all been through this multiple times by now and therefore had the knowledge — had told him just how much Steve god damn Harrington loved to play Florence fucking Nightingale in the aftermath.

Because not only had Steve been the first to open his home to Eddie as a safe, nondescript place for him to lie low until his name had been cleared, but he’d also offered to take care of him too.

To help him change his bandages twice a day, to provide meals — delicious, home cooked meals. To make sure Eddie was staying in bed and off of his feet and was taking his medications as prescribed.

At first it was nice. It was kind. Eddie was appreciative of the help, albeit a bit embarrassed by some of the things he did need help with. But Steve hadn’t commented on it, hadn’t questioned any of it either. He’d just been there, a steady rock for Eddie to rely upon.

It’s been close to two months now, and Eddie is by no means completely healed — hell, he’s still got the stitches in his side and the limp in his walk to prove it — but his strength is already leagues better than it was at the start, and the good days are just starting to outnumber the bad ones. Walking is easier, is something he can actually do now, and he can finally move his arms enough to clean his body in the shower. He still needs help with his hair, can’t quite reach that high yet, but he likes to think that won’t be the case for much longer.

Point is, he’s making progress. Things are looking up.

Except, Steve doesn’t seem to be getting that memo.

The first thing he does when Eddie ambles out of the guest bedroom this morning is offer to make something for breakfast. Steve frames it like he’s already about to make himself some eggs to eat, so it’s no bother if Eddie wants some too, but Eddie knows that that isn’t true; as much as Steve loves breakfast food, he’s not a morning person unless he has to be. And he doesn’t have to be today.

Here he is anyway, though. Wide awake and ready to cook.

(It’s the first strike.)

It’s not what Eddie wants. He wants to do it himself. He can do it himself. He doesn’t need Steve’s help to get something to eat.

“I’m not in the mood for eggs,” Eddie tells him instead. “I’m just going to get some cereal.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Steve relents. He doesn’t argue, and Eddie’s about to count that as a win.

But after Steve sets the pan down, instead of moving towards the fridge to fetch the eggs for himself, he rises onto his toes and stretches up towards the cupboard above the stove — the one he keeps the bowls in.

Eddie watches as Steve pulls out two ceramic bowls, one for Eddie and one for himself (which only proves that he never really intended to make himself eggs in the first place, if he’s giving up so easily on them). 

When he holds out the bowl for Eddie to take, it sets his teeth on edge.

Eddie takes the bowl, rougher than necessary, but Steve doesn’t even bat an eye. He just continues on his mission, taking the milk from the fridge before tucking it under his arm as he digs through the pantry for not one, not two, but all three brands of cereal he owns. Steve brings them all to the kitchen island and sets them down in front of Eddie — as if he couldn’t walk the four steps it would take to cross the kitchen and pick the kind he wanted himself. As if that would’ve taken so much out of a cripple like him.

(That’s strike two.)

Irritation simmers beneath Eddie’s skin as he fixes his bowl of cereal. He has to bite his tongue to keep from making some nasty remark about his surprise that Steve didn’t just pour the bowl for him and maybe even spoon feed him too.

He takes the seat at the very end of the island, the furthest one away from Steve, and he keeps his head down as he eats his Honeycomb, silently and aggressively.

It’s after he finishes his breakfast that the third and final strike of the morning comes along and pushes Eddie right over the edge.

He stands up too quick. That’s all it is. He stands up too quick and the stitches in his side pull, sending a sharp twinge of pain down his torso and into his legs. He sways on his feet, wincing, but he catches himself — because he’s strong enough to do that now.

Only, that doesn’t stop Steve from swooping in.

He’s across the kitchen and at Eddie’s side in an instant, one hand curling around his waist while the other tugs Eddie’s arm around his shoulders, acting as a support that Eddie doesn’t need.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying to duck out from under Steve’s arm.

He doesn’t let him though.

“Eddie, come on, you’re—”

(And that’s strike three.)

“Jesus christ,” Eddie bursts, throwing his left elbow out to knock Steve’s arm away from his waist. He shakes out his right hand too until Steve’s grip loosens and he can yank himself free.

It hurts, to jerk away that harshly, but Eddie ignores the fresh spikes of pain that accompany the sharp movements. The need to get away overpowers the need to not hurt right now.

He just can’t take another second of Steve’s coddling.

“Stop. Stop! You have to stop!” Eddie shouts, gripping onto the edge of the island to steady himself.

Steve, through all his concern, looks completely taken aback. Like he didn’t see any of this coming. “What?” He asks, bewildered. “What the hell man? I’m just trying to help!”

Eddie lets out a frustrated growl and squeezes his hand into a fist at his side. His nails bite into his palm, but he doesn’t care. It’s a nice redirection of pain, if anything. Of anger, too.

“I don’t need your help,” he snaps back.

Steve bristles at the harshness of his tone, his own hackles rising. “No, you don’t want it — that’s different.”

“No, Steve,” Eddie counters again. “I don’t need it. Not with every little god damn thing. I mean, jesus christ, you’re treating me like I’m a… a fucking— porcelain doll or something! Like I’m going to break if I… if I… if I try to walk to the bathroom on my own or try to make myself breakfast or,” he laughs bitterly, gestures at the stool, “god forbid, if I stand up too fast! I’m not an invalid!”

Steve winces, then sighs, and it’s like what little fight he’d had to begin with drains right out. “I know I’m being a lot,” he starts, and Eddie wants to laugh again, wants to shout ‘you think?’ in his face. He doesn’t. Keeps his mouth closed and lets Steve finish. 

“But, jesus, Eddie, you didn’t see yourself. Those bats,” he shudders, “they made a fucking feast out of you. You were— your heart stopped. You died.” 

Steve scrubs a hand over his face, leaning all of his weight back against the edge of the sink, like he can’t carry it anymore. When he drops his hands, he looks haggard under the fluorescent light of the kitchen. “I had to administer CPR,” he says.

Eddie’s breath catches. He didn’t know that part. He doesn’t know a lot of what happened that night, if he’s being honest. Most of it is one big blur in his brain. Eddie remembers the concert with Dustin, remembers the bats and the trailer vents, remembers sending Dustin up that rope, but everything after he cut it… the memories are like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. 

He didn’t know.

Steve takes a couple seconds to appraise Eddie then, to search him for… for something. 

“We— I fought to get you back, Eddie,” he says, with feeling, “and I’m going to fight to keep you here. I’m not going to let you flounder.”

Eddie swallows, lets the fist at his side dissolve as the last of his defensiveness leaks out of him. The knot in his shoulders loosens, and the flame that had been licking at his insides, firing him up, fizzles out until it’s nothing but fading embers. He takes a step towards Steve, hesitating. Then another and another and another until he’s by his side.

“Steve,” he says, lifting his hand to touch, but he stops himself before he can. “I’m— I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, I really am.” Eddie pauses then, and Steve finally looks up to meet his eyes. “But that’s the thing. I’m not like that anymore. I’m not— fragile. I’m not going to break. I’m getting better every day — thanks to you! — but that means I can do things on my own now.”

Steve’s eyes drop again, and some of his hair, soft and productless, flops down over his brow. “You don’t need to,” he argues weakly, and there’s that word again. Need.

“Yeah, but I want to,” Eddie replies, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he continues on. “And that doesn’t mean I don’t still want you around. I— I do,” he says, and it feels like a confession. He tries not to think too hard about that. “I just… don’t need you to take care of me anymore.”

“But what if that’s what I want?” Steve asks. “What if I want to take care of you?”

It feels like something bigger, when Steve says it. Like maybe he isn’t just talking about this, the aftermath. Like maybe… maybe he’s talking about more.

And that’s the kicker. The thing that Eddie doesn’t get. Steve went through so much to save him. To rehabilitate him. And he still wants to do more. Eddie doesn’t understand why. Steve barely knew him before. He still barely knows him now. He doesn’t owe Eddie anything.

“Why?” Eddie asks, unable to stifle the curiosity.

Steve smiles then, this wispy ghost of a thing, but it’s there. Eddie sees it. It pulls at his cheeks and softens his eyes. 

Steve shrugs, scuffs the bottom of his socked foot against the linoleum. “Because I like you,” he says, and Eddie’s heart flops traitorously in his chest. “Because I want you around too. Because taking care of people is what… it’s what family does. And like it or not, you’re part of this family now.” He says it firmly, like Eddie has no choice in the matter.

Edide doesn’t want a choice.

He’s never been… never been part of a family before. Not one like this. One so full of loyalty, and devotion, and love.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say back, doesn’t know if he’d be able to say anything even if he did know what, with the thickness of his throat and the burning around his eyes that tells him he’s close to tears.

So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes that last teeny tiny step into Steve’s space, and he hugs him.

It catches Steve off guard but only for a second before his arms curl back around Eddie. They hover, though, like he’s afraid of hurting him.

For once, that makes Eddie smile. “I’m not going to break,” he whispers into Steve’s ear, tightening his own hold on Steve.

Steve chuckles softly, but he finally finally settles his arms properly around Eddie — safe, warm, tight — and lets himself melt into the hug.

Eddie buries his face into Steve’s neck, feels the way Steve presses back into his hair. He holds on tight, drinks in his fill; he doesn’t want it to end.

When they break apart a few long seconds later, they don’t go very far. Steve’s arm stays wound around Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie keeps one of his tucked around Steve’s back.

“I have a proposal,” Steve announces, glancing over at Eddie.

Eddie lifts an eyebrow.

“I propose… a compromise,” Steve says. “How does this sound: I’ll meet you halfway in all of this.” He brings his hand to his chest. “I’ll still help you with your bandages. I’ll remind you about your meds. I’ll keep washing your hair until you can do it yourself. But I’ll lay off the rest.”

Steve moves his hand to Eddie’s chest now, poking a finger right to the center. “You get to walk to the bathroom alone, you get to make yourself breakfast, and if you’re falling I’ll only catch you if you want me to.”

A little late for that one, Eddie thinks to himself offhandedly.

“But,” Steve continues, still in that purposeful tone, “you have to promise me that if you do need help, you’ll ask for it, okay?”

Eddie smiles. Nods. “Okay,” he says. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Steve says firmly, and he holds up his pinky.

It makes Eddie want to giggle of all things. A pinky promise. Like they’re god damn children. Except, he knows how seriously Steve takes pinky promises. Knows that they mean more to him than any other kind of promise. 

Eddie feels sort of special, getting to have one with Steve.

He sticks out his own pinky, only just before Steve can lock them together, he curls his back in.

“You too, though,” Eddie adds, seriously. “You’re allowed to ask for help too, y’know. Just because my bites are worse doesn’t mean yours aren’t bad too. This goes both ways, Harrington.”

Steve nods. “Deal,” he says.

“Deal,” Eddie echoes.

They lock their pinkies.

Things are going to be okay.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

#asks #zerokrox-blog #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mack writes #macks ficlets

[starglowwos]

quick note before i start ranting: last night i started thinking. and then i started ranting in discord. and it got off track. and then i woke up this morning and had a similar thought. so this is just a stream of thoughts from me, really, lmao also, absolutely all of this is from memory, there's a good chance i got some stuff wrong (and i also include a lot of headcanons based off estimates and stuff i don't think would be a stretch), so yeah lmao this is kinda like a thought experiment or something

thinking,, thinking about c!martyn and his birthday

3rd life started 2 weeks after his birthday, last and double life weren't close, rats missed it, pirates has a good chance of missing it, and that's in the future anyway

only limited life included it

martyn… spends the rest of his time in a void, regardless of which route you take, datastream or eyesandears (as we don't know how they connect yet, they're mostly separate? kinda? idk its complicated)

so… what's better: having your birthday in the midst of a death game, in a world that isn't real but feels painfully so, or alone in a void?

in a dark void where you're unconscious most of the time, and when you're not, you're being taunted? or in a green void where you can't so much as sleep like you had to back in the world you were torn from, the world that you only have one actual connection with, your only glimpse of reality being of that who trapped you in this mess and doesn't care enough to get you out already?

martyn's first birthday in the datastream likely would've been limited life, if that's how that would work (again, datastream~eyesandears, complicated)

he's still got another good 7 months until his next one

will he be out of the datastream by then? will doc have finally figured it out?

…why hasn't he yet?

…that's a question for another day. (sure, maybe he's said that dozens of times before, but… now's not the time, is all)

(…besides, it seems like he cares. but…- no, question for another day. whatever a day even is. he only really knows because doc makes him journal for every one that passes, not because it really holds any meaning right now.)

would he rather spend his birthday lonely and paranoid, lonely and paranoid, or lonely and paranoid?

either

in constant fear of death, being able to see just how much time you have left until then, knowing it could skip ahead by an hour or even two at a moment's notice.

people who were supposed to be your friends (and perhaps were in another life) trying to kill you on your birthday, throwing explosives down from the clouds onto your party on the one day you maybe thought you'd be allowed to enjoy yourself.

(and yeah, maybe you were planning on blowing up everyone else, too, but when you're red, can you really be blamed for wanting to spill some blood?)

(…everyone else feels like that, don't they? you're not the only one. you're stupid for thinking you'd be an exception to their bloodlust just because it's your birthday.)

or

in a void where your only waking moments aren't good ones. where you're taunted and berated and ridiculed for your mistakes, where you start to believe what you're told, that you failed your one job despite being given so many chances.

the void in which you last see Them before your only anything between these games abandon you for years?- months on end, only to reappear a game later in hopes of ruining your life. and you're pretty damn scared They succeeded. (you've felt, just, bad, for so long, that you're not sure things can get worse, yet they manage to every time. you're not sure when things got this bad, but it's Their fault, you know it is.)

…you're unconscious most of the time in this void, anyway. you're not sure why it feels like such an eternity every time.

or

in a lime green void, stretching on virtually endlessly (heh, virtually… ah, this is what you've resorted to for entertainment, isn't it?), with access to all you could ever dream of?

sure, maybe not the impossible—that's, well, impossible—and maybe not things that haven't been created yet, maybe some things are locked behind paywalls you can't bypass, or, or need for accounts–

oh, did you mention you can't leave any trace of your existence either? there's quite a few restrictions, actually—no accounts, no anonymous comments, no privacy, no friends, no family, no food, no drink, no sleep, no- no bodily functions, no.. no concrete sense of self, no… fellow(? are you even human anymore?) human interaction…

well, besides doc, but he's… busy. too busy to help you get out of here, too busy to…

to care where you land after pushing you through a portal to an unknown world with little to no warning,

to get… worried, when you stay months in the same game world, because these- these missions are meant to be a, a quick in and out, maybe a week, usually less, not… three whole months, and…

fuck did that hurt, leaving them all, but… the sooner you complete these missions for doc—what even are these missions, anyway? why-—the faster you'll be out of the datastream and.. back to reality. back to.. home… you think.

(why do these missions have such big gaps between them?

why– how is doc presumably fighting CHEST all by himself (well, not all by himself, you are the datastream defender, after all, even if that is just a made up title to make yourself feel better, even if you're barely an asset as opposed to a liability to doc)?

what does global ramifications entail?

why hasn't doc figured out how to get you out of here yet?

why does he not spend any time with you, he's your only real human contact, and even then, it's flakey!?

why does he make you journal every day? to keep you sane? you mean, it's hardly working, but why?

if doc cares, it'd be more than just whatever this is. or–…

…you've had this conversation before. you're just out of touch with social interaction. players and npcs are nothing like real people. you're just… wrong. and doc's right, because doc knows what's going on, and you don't, save for some tiny morsels of information. right. …nevermind.)

this is where i stopped ranting for the night, and i pick it back up on a similar topic this morning ^^

i wonder if, in the datastream lore, rats and pirates are made by the same people or not

if doc would have access to that information, if he would purposefully start avoiding powcreations, or purposefully seek out their game worlds

is martyn spending months in a game world, having fun instead of doing his job, a good thing in any way, in doc's eyes? or is it solely a distraction or vulnerability?

martyn goes to all these game worlds for a reason, he needs to find loot shards so doc can deal with them, but how does doc feel about martyn staying months instead of days? of martyn having fun? growing attached? forming emotional bonds with people who aren't real?

(doc tells martyn they aren't real. martyn has no reason not to believe him on that. (in fact, martyn tells himself they aren't real, because if they were, he's not sure he'd handle that well.) even though players can be awakened, they're still ultimately under an actual human's control—doc's told martyn this. martyn is... a special case. (and if they aren't quick enough, his situation could lose its uniqueness to the enemy. which, if it wasn't clear, isn't a good thing.))

it's ultimately not healthy, martyn knows, but he's been in the datastream a little over a year at this point. the only human interaction he has is doc, who barely seems to have time for him, and CHEST agents (he thinks? they may just be AI), which are actively trying to kill him, whatever that would mean for him. he doesn't like the thought.

so, maybe he's a bit lonely—okay, maybe very lonely—so can you really blame him for wanting to indulge? i mean… even if it isn't really reality, what's stopping it from acting as one? he'll… he'll always have to leave eventually, but… he may as well enjoy himself while he has the chance, right?

so what's to stop him from making friends with oli the trash rat, or oli the pirate? (they're almost eerily similar, all things considered, but martyn guesses that's what happens when you get lazy devs. everything else seems to have so much care put into it, though... why would they put in such little effort to player characters when so much goes into everything else?)

what's to stop him flirting with half the players on the faction isles and being responsible for the nickname "kisstrels"?

what's to stop him having a genuinely good time?

leaving rats was hard. it was the first time he felt he truly belonged somewhere in how long? longer than the datastream, for sure.

he was really starting to struggle at that point with the crushing loneliness and feelings of unreality, if he's honest. rats... rats was nice. rats was probably some of the most fun he's had.

and leaving pirates has every chance to be even harder.

with these new scars appearing (which he would assume to be a design thing if it weren't for the fact that they stayed with him in the datastream itself), and these new feelings occurring without reason or rhyme, he's starting to feel uneasy about being stuck in the datastream again. (he's never not felt uneasy about it. he just… manages to push it to the back of his mind(? does he still have one of those?), sometimes.)

he's spent a lot of his time thinking—a lot about the rats, admittedly—why does scott feel so much more familiar now than he did even after he left rats? so many of the rats always felt familiar, especially jimmy and oli, but why does he miss scott all of a sudden?

weird feelings like that had been beginning to pop up the past few months, along with scars he has no explanation for—i mean, seriously, why does he have at least three scars shaped like a four-pointed star? what would even cause that? he's fairly sure there's more, as well!—and it's been making him uneasy. most of all, it's been making him lonely.

pirates came at a good time, he thinks.

maybe his introduction wasn't the best, what, with doc shoving him through a portal just for him to fall from the sky into the ocean, then immediately getting scammed by scar—

why does scar feel so familiar? why does that seem so in character for him? he hasn't been in another game world which used his assets, has he?

—just to go to this weird corrupted purple island and lose two people along the way—

why does doc always put him in the center of the story? it can get so stressful at times! i mean, rats was stressful enough even before the other rats did stuff like blow up the boiler!

—but... i mean, he made a song for pirates. that's something he'd only previously done for rats (and wow, was that process painful, can you imagine how hard it is to make music while being a rat and staying secretive about your mission? speaking of secrets, he got pretty lucky with the whole pirate thing, for once he can be truthful about some part of why he's here, even if he has to stay vague), and even then, that wasn't really a serious song. this one's a full on song, water made sheet music and everything!

so, evidently, it's not that bad. it's quite the opposite, actually. martyn thinks he's going to have a pretty good time here, as a pirate.

(he's not sure why the pirate aesthetic, and the oceanic/aquatic aesthetic as a whole, actually, feels so familiar. like he's done this sort of thing recently...?

and... scott. scott feels related to that, for some reason. and scott's a heron, martyn fucking hates the herons (he'd never admit it, maybe except to the rats in his boots, but they're actually not that bad. it's more like a sibling rivalry, than anything).

…does this have something to do with martyn randomly missing rat scott the past few months? …does he miss rat scott, or does he miss scott? …these aren't real people, martyn, get it together, it's fine. you're fine. nothing to worry about.)

#itlw #itlwlore #inthelittlewood #eyesandears #martyn rats smp #martyn pirates smp #pirates smp martyn #rats smp martyn #c:/sgos/gold #c:/sgos/talking #cw unreality #cw paranoia

[utilitycaster]

I know there have been many Takes about Laudna and Orym after latest episode. Yours saying that this is not a bad development for Orym is interesting to me because my knee-jerk reaction while watching was being horrified he went so cold about Bor’Dor’s death. But after some time, I guess him finally choosing to be pragmatic after days torn by his own idealism would be a much healthier route for him in the long run.

I want to know what you think about Ashton, though. Some people are saying, they “let” Laudna kill Bor’Dor because they thought it’s what she needed. That sits wrong with me because Laudna made that decision and she’s not a child, but Ashton is my favorite character and I can’t help think I am biased lol.

Please excuse my badly structured sentences, I’m not native speaker.

Hi anon! Your English is great!

I think this is a revealing question in that, in fandom, I think a lot of people lead with "well, obviously, my favorite character is clearly morally in the right, or, failing that, the character I don't like is morally in the wrong" rather than considering the situation, the context, the genre norms, what makes for the most interesting story, etc. So recognizing that Ashton's your favorite and that might be coloring your opinion puts you ahead of a lot of people.

Anyway: I think it can be true both that Laudna made her own decision and that Ashton could, had they wanted, chosen to make an effort to stop her and they didn't. I don't think that means Ashton is responsible for what Laudna did per se, but I also don't personally think he had a moral imperative to save Bor'Dor. I think someone who thinks he did have that moral imperative might disagree, but they should also be blaming Laudna just as much in that case.

Someone else remarked to me that based on the discourse you'd think Orym - the only person who did not attack or restrain Bor'Dor - executed him in cold blood. Just to recap the fight: we only really had one round during which Orym gave Prism a potion to heal her up and did bait and switch to protect her; Ashton hit, with non-lethal intent; Deni$e restrained Bor'Dor; Laudna cast Hunger of the Shadow, knocking Bor'Dor unconscious; and Prism punched him. The following round was technically not run as combat in initiative order, and had it been, Bor'Dor could theoretically have died of a failed death save before Laudna's turn, but Orym and Deni$e made no attacks and Ashton chose to lead away Prism. Probably any of the three martial class characters could, had they wanted to, stopped Laudna. None of them did.

Which I think goes back to the second paragraph: In the end? I think most people are making their judgments of whether or not they think Bor'Dor should die, and even further back to whether or not the Ruby Vanguard is a cultish, terrorist organization, deciding on whether his death was justified or not, and then, if they think it was not, pinning blame on the character they like least. You can argue for any, though frankly, I think Orym is the weakest argument: Laudna is the one who literally killed him, both knocking him unconscious and taking the final death save. Prism took the most death saves with her punch. Ashton dealt a significant amount of damage and did not intervene when Laudna had an unconscious Bor'Dor at her mercy. Deni$e is the one who initially brought up her suspicions, forcing Bor'Dor's hand, and similarly made no physical effort to stop anyone. Orym indicated his approval to Laudna and did not try to stop her.

I think that had Bor'Dor not attacked the party, and had instead simply run away, tracking him down and killing him would have been excessive, but on the other hand, he had a lot of information that could have been extremely dangerous to Bells Hells, so at the very least I think they needed to take him prisoner; but he's not wanted by any specific legal system, so I think he'd just be their hostage, dragged along, indefinitely, as they attacked his friends over and over again. There isn't a nice, neat solution where everyone is happy. Deradicalization is an admirable goal, but it requires a massive amount of effort and resources that I don't think Bells Hells have, and no one should be expected to deradicalize someone who is actively committing violence against them. Once Bor'Dor attacked, to me, this became self-defense and an admission that he was lost: that he'd spent several days with them during which they were kind to him, but because of their ideologies, he attempted to kill them anyway. At that point, I don't fault any of the characters present for killing him/letting him be killed in response.

I guess the last point I'll make is that while, in terms of empathy, there is obviously a huge difference between killing someone regretfully, and killing someone and relishing it, they are, in the end, dead either way. I don't interpret Orym's behavior as cold, but rather merely calm acceptance that he can no longer avoid the inevitable war - and I do think that acting as though Orym's subjectivity in this situation is problematic while ignoring that Prism and Laudna were in no way objective either is an incredibly poorly considered argument, and deeply unfair- but in the end, whether Orym is stoic or whether he breaks down crying, Bor'Dor is still dead. I am not going to fault a character for having an outward emotional reaction that doesn't match what I think it should be when I think their motivations were reasonable.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role #I think a lot of people are mistaking empathy for forgiveness or mercy #i think Orym's actions are deeply empathetic. I think he sees that a few differences in circumstances could have made him a vanguard member #and he also sees that the vanguard's response to their own pain is to make more orphans and widowers of innocents in the name of ideology #and that prism - the one person who believed bor'dor - would have been the collateral damage #anyway sorry for making this about orym again but I think it's necessary context for understanding why i'm like ashton's fine #bc they're all fine imo

[starchaserdreams]

Wolfstar Microfic: Passion

Sirius groaned as James sat down next to him. Sirius had been sitting on the floor in the corner in front of an armchair in the middle of Gryffindor’s biggest party of the year, he should have expected that James would come find him. But he’d still thought he’d have more than 90 seconds to himself. He’d just wanted to stare wistfully towards the record player.

“What’s got you in a funk, mate?” James asked, “Last I saw, you were flirting your way around the room, did someone shoot you down?”

James seemed remarkably sober, considering the state of most of the rest of the people in the room, Sirius included. 

“Wasn’t,” Sirius mumbled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “There’s only one person I’d want to flirt with anyway.”

James didn’t say anything, just squeezed his shoulder. Sirius had never told him, of course, but he might have known anyway. Sirius was probably obvious about it.

“Sometimes it’s like my heart is too full to bear,” Sirius said after a pause. “Like I’m on fire from the inside out and completely torn up by love.”

“What?” James asked, turning his body to face Sirius, as though getting ready for a deep heart to heart. But Sirius just shook his head, and let his eyes find the conversation near the record player again. 

They’d been there all night, Remus, Lily, and Mary, and hadn’t left once, except to get drinks. Sirius was eternally jealous of the girls for monopolizing Moony. 

James seemed to follow Sirius’ gaze.

“Moony?” James asked quietly, the words delicate, as though he was afraid of breaking the moment by scaring Sirius. But Sirius couldn’t be scared of the concept anymore.

He just nodded.

James seemed pleased with this. “You should tell him, Pads, he might feel the same.”

Sirius just shook his head. “Doesn’t,” he said simply.

“He might,” James replied. “Just talk to him about it sometime.”

“You think so?” James nodded. “Okay,” Sirius said, finally feeling bold. He stood up quickly, swaying slightly from how woozy he was standing up so quickly while drunk.

“Maybe not now-” James began, but Sirius was already halfway across the room. Something about the way Moony was laughing at something one of the girls had said made Sirius feel like he was a magnet, and Sirius was helpless to do anything but be pulled in.

When he reached them, he didn’t have any idea what to say, and they were already deep in a conversation that was foreign to him (Muggle cinema) so he had nothing to add. 

Instead of talking, he put his arms around Remus from behind, and hooked his chin over Remus’ shoulder. 

Remus tensed for a moment, as though wondering what was happening, but relaxed into it and brought his hands up to settle on Sirius’ hands, holding them loosely.

Sirius breathed in his scent: sandalwood. Sirius knew that scent well. It was the same body wash Remus had used all through their time at Hogwarts. Back in first year, before Sirius had understood about the full moons, back when he’d just felt sad and worried for his friend that he disappeared all the time, Sirius had used the body wash a few times. Only when Remus had been gone, because even then he hadn’t known how to not miss him.

Lily finished her thought, and then Mary spoke up quickly.

“Lily, I think we’ve been monopolizing Remus’ time. How about we get another round of drinks and go talk to Marlene.”

“Yes, quite right,” Lily said, before turning away immediately. Mary had the audacity to wink at them before she turned to follow.

But Sirius couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed at her for it. He probably would have done the same if it were one of his friends.

They stood in silence for a long moment, Sirius still holding on to Remus, and Remus not fighting at all, perhaps even leaning back into him a bit.

“What brought this on?” Remus finally asked, words quiet - not a whisper, but even quieter.

Sirius hooked his chin more tightly over Remus’ shoulder. He couldn’t see his friend’s face, but he didn’t need to - he would be able to read his body language easily. They knew each other too well to miss something like that.

“I love you,” Sirius said before he could think the better of it. “I’m on fire for you all the time. It’s love, or, I don’t know, passion, but I can’t stand that we were apart all night. I missed you.”

Remus chuckled, but squeezed Sirius’ hands where they held onto him. 

“You don’t have to miss me, I’m right here, and I’ll stay here with you.”

“I know,” Sirius said through a quiet laugh, “I just wanted you to know.”

Remus twisted around, hardly leaving the circle of Sirius’ arms. 

“It’s a little early for ‘I love you’ though.” He smirked. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

Sirius laughed, more sincerely this time, and he could feel the smile spreading across his whole face.

“Is that you asking me out, Moony?”

Remus just watched him for a moment, a pleased sort of expression on his face. “Yeah, Padfoot, it is.”

“Then yes, I will go out with you,” Sirius said, throwing his arms around Remus again. When he pulled back, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit like he was about to swoon. “Can I kiss you, Moony?”

Remus shook his head. “We’re both drunk, now isn’t the right time.”

Sirius couldn’t argue with that, there was no hiding how drunk he was. Even though he was over the moon (ha!) at what Remus had said to him, he still couldn’t hide that from himself.

“Okay,” Sirius said slowly, “then can we just cuddle up together? I just want to hold onto you and never let go.”

Remus smiled indulgently. “Now that we can do.”

@wolfstarmicrofic

On AO3 here

#remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #james potter #gryffindor party

[minastras]

iv. if i give my heart to you

prev • masterlist • next

words: 4.8k

warnings: swearing, underage drinking

——————————

The second you reached home you rushed to your room and shut the door, letting out a quiet, choked sob. You allotted twenty minutes for being miserable away from prying eyes, sitting on the floor with your back to the door and your head in your hands.

You’d read a Richard Siken quote a while back about sliding down a wall crying but only being able to focus on the wall in front of you and how you didn’t paint it all that well. That was you now, as you stared and stared and realised one of your power outlets was crooked. There was something so pathetically sad about hiding your tears when there was no one around to see you cry.

The next day, you told your friends you and Kai broke up. You didn’t give them any more details than that, lest your two stories contradicted each other again.

Aeri and Yizhuo tried their best to comfort you (and you appreciated it) but they couldn’t, not really. Not unless they knew the real reason you were upset. Kai hadn’t “broken your heart”; you’d gotten invested in something knowing it was fake. You were drowning in quicksand you’d willingly jumped into, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

Over the next week you and Kai stayed out of each other’s way. His friends gave you such pity-filled glances whenever you crossed paths that you felt compelled to tell them you were fine each time. Obviously, that was a big fat lie.

Daeseong and Daehyun asked about Kai only once, because the second they mentioned his name you’d burst into tears. They both got so scared they started crying too. You had never cried in front of them in your life.

“I’m cancelling my party next week,” Aeri told you after class. “Yizhuo and I’ll come over and we can hang out.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you shook your head. “Have the party. I know you’ve been excited about it for ages.” She’d recently gotten a pool table and wanted to show it off. You weren’t going to deny her that chance, especially not to just make her join your daily moping sessions.

“Fine, but you don’t have to come,” she acquiesced. She knew you well enough to know you hated pity, and that when you said things you meant them.

“No, I’ll go. It’ll help me take my mind off things,” you said, smiling and poking her cheek. “Anyway, I need to be there to keep you and Yizhuo in check.”

——————————

——————————

Empty bleachers haunted Kai at every practice, but he still looked forward to training. It helped to keep his mind off of you. For a while at least.

After he ended his fake relationship with you, there had been no teasing, ribbing, or I told you so remarks from any of his friends. Not even Beomgyu. How visibly torn up must Kai have been to elicit such unbridled sympathy? He hated thinking about it, the fact that other people knew the strength of his emotions.

Practice ended, and once again a dull ache crept its way back into his heart and settled in, making itself at home as it had for the last week.

Soobin cleared his throat and pointed over Kai’s shoulder. “Someone’s here for you,” he said.

His heart started racing. It was you. You were here to give him another chance to apologise. But then he turned around and saw your friend Yizhuo, standing at the bottom of the bleachers with her arms crossed, staring daggers right at him. He excused himself from the group and made his way over to her.

“Hi, Yi-”

She held up a hand, not in the mood for pleasantries. “I’m not here to be a messenger between you and Y/N. I’m also not here to beg you to take them back,” she started, narrowing her eyes. “They didn’t send me here, but you probably already knew that.”

He did; you weren’t the sort of person to pull such stunts. That’s what really hurt, that you didn’t want to talk to him at all.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly I don’t care. But I do know that you left them with the impression you don’t care about them,” she continued. You thought he didn’t care about you?

“Whether you guys get back together is none of my business. I just hope you’ll show them they mattered to you and give them closure instead of running away,” she said, before pivoting on her heel and leaving.

Kai sat at his desk that night, unmoving, as if the right path of action would come to him if he stared at his wall collage for long enough. Even Yizhuo knew he was a child, incapable of having important conversations, incapable of real relationships.

He pulled the polaroid of you and him after his championship game off the wall — the one you’d asked for but he refused to give up. He could still remember the feeling of your hands on his face when you kissed him, your palms cool in comparison to his skin flushed from the exertion of the game.

His friends teased him relentlessly over this photo and the way he stared at you in it, saying he was happier at the kiss than their championship win.

He set the picture down on his desk and reached for his phone. He had something he needed to say.

——————————

Did you regret attending Aeri’s party? Maybe. But you couldn’t back out now, and you didn’t want her to worry about you.

While Aeri shepherded the earliest guests down to the basement to see her new pool table and Yizhuo greeted people at the door, you were in the kitchen making a gigantic bowl of your signature sparkling strawberry vodka punch.

It gave you something to do, at least, that didn’t necessitate being out in the living room where the rest of the party was. Talking to one or two people when they popped into the kitchen for a drink was a hell of a lot easier than doing that.

There was no way Kai would turn up, you kept telling yourself, trying to be normal.

You repeated that again when you finally left the kitchen and saw Yeonjun and Soobin walk through the front door.

And again when you were talking to Jongseong in the backyard and spotted Beomgyu and Taehyun walking up the driveway.

Jongseong was trying to assess you — to figure out if he could flirt with you or if you were still upset about Kai — and in the back of your mind you knew that. You answered that question for him when you locked eyes with Kai through the open back patio door. He looked away, a see-through cup of your punch in his hand.

Jongseong turned around as your mask of friendly bubbliness slipped off in an instant and shattered all over the grass beneath your feet.

“Yeah, I figured you’d still be hung up on him,” Jongseong said, sounding mildly disappointed. How long had Kai been watching you? When did he even get here?

“Mm, I guess so,” you shrugged, pushing your entertainer smile back onto your face. But you weren’t fooling anyone, not anymore.

“It’s fine, Y/N. I get it,” Jongseong chuckled, taking a step back to indicate he wasn’t going to pursue you further. “Now’s a bad time. I hope things work out, whether you guys get back together or not.”

You relaxed considerably, scrambling for the shards of your mask as you tried to smile back. “Thanks, Jongseong. I’ll be in the house if you need me,” you said, excusing yourself.

When you returned to the living room Kai was nowhere to be found. You headed straight for the stairs and up to the guest room, leaving the door unlocked behind you as you entered.

If there was anything you were jealous of in Aeri and Yizhuo’s houses, it was the balconies. What you would give to have one of your own. From up here, the sounds of the party seemed so far away. The night Kai had asked you to fake date him on this very balcony, exactly one hundred days ago, seemed equally distant.

It was a cold night, but not unbearably so as long as the air was still. The sky was clear but too polluted for visible stars. You propped your feet up against the edge of the balcony and leaned over the railing, looking up at the deep indigo anyway.

“Don’t do that. It’s dangerous,” came a familiar voice. You stepped back down and turned around, watching Kai shut the door behind him.

You closed your eyes tightly and turned away, back to the view from the balcony, and held your breath.

“You left the door unlocked for me, right? You were hoping I’d follow you, right?” he asked, sounding almost desperate for his assumptions to be true.

And they were. You told him as much when you sighed softly and once again turned around to face him.

He was wearing his student athlete jacket that you loved, a black and gold varsity-style jacket with ‘Kai’ embroidered in small gold letters on the front. You borrowed it sometimes, because it was soft, warm, and smelt like him. Selfishly, you wondered if he wore it hoping to run into you.

“Kai-”

“I’m sorry. Please, hear me out.”

It was too cold to be out on the balcony. You walked back inside, closed the sliding door behind you, and sat down on the end of the neatly made bed. He sat down beside you, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap.

If someone had asked you what you were anticipating from this conversation, you wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer to save your life. No, your head was filled only with him — how sad his eyes looked and how much you wanted to hug him. There was no room in your mind for speculation.

“The other day when I told you I wanted to end things, I was lying,” Kai began, pausing after every other word, choosing them carefully. He wasn’t looking at you while he spoke, his eyes locked low on the wall in front of him. On a power outlet.

“I actually wrote a whole thing out on my phone — that’s what I was looking at — but I didn’t read it out because I was being a coward,” he continued. “Can I read it to you now?”

There was a block in your vocal cords preventing you from speaking. All you could do was nod and watch him pull out his phone. He turned to face you, and each time he glanced up from his phone at you while he read, his eyes seemed to get shinier.

“You were right, it was real. All of it. I avoided thinking about us until you brought it up because I’m immature, I’m childish, and I don’t like thinking about the serious stuff. What people say about me is true, and I was terrified by how much I like you. I chose to act as if everything was fine, and that wasn’t fair to you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I made you feel like you didn’t matter to me. That was the last thing I wanted to do, because you’re my favourite person. I like everything about you. You just get me, and I never have to pretend around you. I want to be your boyfriend, your actual boyfriend, and I promise I’ll grow up for you. If you’d have me.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and pocketed his phone, fidgeting with his hair like he always did when he was nervous. You watched him, biting the inside of your cheek, the ambient noise of the party downstairs crackling in the background.

“I- I meant to say all that a long time ago,” he said, trying to hold eye contact with you but breaking it constantly. His hands rested uncomfortably on his knees, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Do you still mean it?” you asked. “All of it?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, before sighing and pushing his hands through his hair again. “I just- you know me. I can’t commit to people. I’m the last of my friends to grow up.”

Huening Kai: the master of puppy love and nothing more. Or so people used to say. But there were other types of love aside from romance, and you’d always known he was capable of those. The guest bedroom was painfully quiet, enough so that you could hear him breathing.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think it’s true,” you said.

“You’re right: it’s Beomgyu,” he agreed, giggling nervously. It had been too long since you last heard him laugh. You smiled at his cautious joke, which appeared to reassure him slightly.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I should’ve talked to you earlier,” you mumbled. Your initial outburst must have come out of nowhere for him. The embarrassment of your past actions hit you, delayed, but you pushed it aside and soldiered on. “Can- can we try this again? I don’t want to live with regrets.”

You had barely finished getting out your last word when Kai leaned forward and kissed your cheek, urgent yet hesitant, eager yet tentative. He was beaming as he reached for your hands and held them in his.

“Me neither.” There were sparkles in his eyes.

He kissed you again, pecking you on the mouth this time, and you leaned against him with a content sigh. You could stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms with a soft warmth in your chest you’d never felt before. You played with the gold ring on his pinky finger.

“Kai?” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Yeah?”

Your voice was soft and hopeful. “This is real, right?”

He moved his free hand to the nape of your neck, gently turning it to tilt your head towards him so he could press his lips to your temple.

“It’s real. I’m all yours,” he promised, “for as long as you’re willing to put up with me.”

You buried your face into his jacket and laughed, breathing him in. His cologne was woody and faintly sweet. “Stop saying things like that,” you mumbled. “This week without you was the longest week of my life.”

He froze, but after a second he relaxed and pulled you closer.

“I told my friends the truth, by the way. They were the ones who knocked some sense into me,” he said. “Speaking of which, we should probably go downstairs.”

Shit. You needed to tell Aeri and Yizhuo.

“They probably all think I’m an idiot now,” you groaned.

He sat up and grinned cheekily. “Is what other people think important to you?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him, but you didn’t let go of his hand even as you stood up and led him to the door. “Hah, very funny.”

“Hey, you’ve asked me so many difficult questions. I should get to ask you some, too,” he complained, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

That indescribable soft warmth grew stronger. It reminded you of how your skin felt when you stepped out of a cold room and into the sunlight. You’d missed the feeling of having Kai’s hand in yours so much that it was almost overwhelming, delivering a rush to your head that made you dizzy.

“Well, then, to answer your question: no, it’s not,” you smiled, opening the door.

The party was still thumping along downstairs; with all the chaos going on you could hardly blame anyone for missing your absence. But the second you and Kai reached the halfway point of the staircase, Taehyun spotted you from the backyard through the kitchen door like some kind of superspy, breaking into a knowing smile immediately.

“What’s that like? Must be nice,” Kai joked, although the underlying element of truth was clear in the look in his eyes as he waved to Taehyun. You squeezed his hand and smiled, trying to be comforting, not knowing if you were doing a good job or not. He led you towards the front door, clearly wanting to leave.

“Are you okay?” you asked, feeling the tension in his forearm as you held onto him so you wouldn’t get separated by the crowd. The chaotic chatter of the partygoers around you concealed your words and afforded you both a paradoxical privacy.

“Yeah. You’re here,” he replied, turning around and flashing you a sweet smile — the kind he reserved only for you. The sincerity of it knocked the air from your lungs temporarily.

Once you’d made it out of the packed house, you swiftly found Aeri to let her know you were leaving.

“Hi, uh-” Aeri started, staring at Kai’s name embroidered on the jacket around your shoulders. Her pupils were dilated from the alcohol. “What?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow, I promise,” you said, holding up your pinky finger.

She locked her own around yours with a dramatic eye roll. “God, I can’t wait to hear whatever this story is,” she ribbed, clearly joking, because she gave you a tight hug and told you to get home safe.

——————————

While you were talking to Aeri earlier, Kai had run around to the backyard to tell his own friends he was leaving to take you home. None of them had seemed even remotely surprised at this news. They saved all their questions for the group chat, not that he’d bothered to check his texts since. He’d reply to them later.

He tiptoed into your living room after you and took off his shoes, trying not to disturb your brothers.

“What are you smiling at?” Kai asked, watching you curiously as he locked the front door behind him and turned on the lights.

“Just making sure Daeseong and Daehyun did their chores,” you replied, looking around the room, clearly pleased that they had. The plates were washed, the floor was cleaned, and the curtains were drawn. As far as he could tell, the only thing left for you to do was iron.

Your wood floors were cold under his feet, even through his socks. He stood with his hands in his back pockets and waited for you to speak, but all you did was glance at the ironing and then back at him apologetically.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, never mind that ironing wasn’t exactly a two-person operation. He knew you’d forgiven him, that you were ‘back together’, but he remained on edge. You did too. Standing right beside you as you ironed and he folded clothes, he could almost taste the nervous energy radiating off of you. You two still needed to talk.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you asked. You had never invited him to stay over before.

Inquisitive, he studied your features. “Do you want me to spend the night?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I will.”

You fell silent. He continued folding, biting his tongue.

“I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, with your trademark straightforward bend, your eyes locked on Daehyun’s school uniform shirt you were pressing.

“Why did you take me back?” he blurted out, surprised by his own forwardness. He hadn’t quite realised how close to the surface in his mind that question had been bubbling for the last hour until now.

The laundry pile had depleted much faster than he expected it to (you were clearly a better ironer than he was), reduced to just two of your own school uniform shirts. You switched off the iron and set it aside, reaching for his hand. He gave it to you.

“I really like you, Kai,” you began, and as if you could sense his apprehension you immediately added, “the real you, not the one everyone else sees that you keep calling immature or cowardly or whatever you said earlier.”

Yeonjun had mentioned something ages ago: he said he spoke to you after school once and asked you what you liked about Kai. You answered, “everything.” At the time Kai figured you just didn’t know how to respond (because what kind of question was that, right?), which was what he told Yeonjun.

“No, man,” Yeonjun insisted. “I was joking around with them like, ‘Are we talking about the same person?’ And they shrugged and said, ‘He makes it easy.’ They had the corniest, dopiest smile on their face. It was revolting.”

Yeonjun was still reeling from his breakup at the time, clearly.

The way Kai felt now was exactly how he felt back then. It must’ve been more than two months ago. A flippant memory for Yeonjun, perhaps, and you probably didn’t even know Kai knew of the conversation, but Kai never stopped thinking about it.

“You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re selfless. You notice things that no one else does, and you’re always there to make sure I’m okay without ever taking credit. I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself, because you’re my favourite person too,” you continued.

He shook his head, fighting off a smile, holding your hands in his. “I don’t- that’s not true.”

At that, you frowned. “But you are. And you’re wonderful.”

Your eyes were soft but insistent, pulling him in and not letting him look away. He wasn’t used to such frank words. He was used to superlatives and grand titles: the best-looking boy in school, the MVP of the soccer team, one-fifth of the fifteen day kings.

But to be called wonderful was something else. It made him giddy.

“You didn’t tell me about Stackies,” you reminded him. “Most people would have. And you didn’t tell me about Hangil.”

Kai blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“His friends were bitching about it to Aeri,” you answered. “Wasn’t it because of us?”

“Not us, you. He was being inappropriate,” Kai replied, scowling now as he remembered the encounter. “But I didn’t keep it a secret out of some noble selflessness, I just didn’t want you to find out I punched someone.”

It took you all of two seconds to see through his obvious self-deprecating lies. You didn’t dwell on it though, merely letting go of his hand and reaching for the iron to turn it back on. He could almost see you thinking, trying to figure out how best to respond without scaring him off.

Neither one of you spoke while you pressed your last two shirts and he put them neatly on hangers, or while you left to put away the laundry and he helpfully kept the iron and ironing board.

He felt exposed, mortifyingly so. Your words were too kind, the type to make him want to run away. It wasn’t like he hated attention, far from it, but it was just different when it was your attention for some reason.

But when you returned from your room empty-handed and ready to talk, he stayed and listened.

“That’s not why. You know I wouldn’t have been upset by that,” you observed with a playful smile. You never complained about people like Hangil being knocked down a few pegs.

Kai shrugged. “Well, you shouldn’t have to hear stuff like that,” he said simply. You walked right up to him and took his hand again, and it felt like his heart was going to burst. “I know you don’t need me to protect you or anything, but-”

He was almost relieved when you leant forward and kissed him to shut him up, because it was apparent he was incapable of doing so himself. You tasted like your favourite raspberry chapstick, oh so sweet and intoxicating.

“See?” you whispered when you pulled back. “You are selfless.”

——————————

After Kai stubbed his toe on the corner of your kitchen counter and only barely stopped himself from shouting in pain, you decided it’d be better to head up to the roof to talk. If either of your brothers woke up now they’d never go back to bed.

You both put on your jackets and he dragged a blanket up the stairs behind him, ready to brave the night chill until you were tired enough to sleep. Leaning back against the tall parapet, legs tangled together as you sat side-by-side on the floor, Kai rested his head on top of yours with a happy sigh.

“You knew I liked you, right?” you asked, sitting obediently still while he wrapped both of you up in the blanket and tucked you in.

“I think so. I couldn’t understand why, though,” he said, only half-joking.

“What does that mean?” you mumbled, mindlessly opening the suspiciously-old pack of gummy bears Kai had fished out of his jacket pocket earlier. He told you not to eat them, but you didn’t listen. When you offered him one, he refused.

“I remember when you first started waking up earlier to prepare your brothers’ dinner before school so you could stick around until my soccer training ended,” he started, grabbing the pack from your hands to check if the gummy bears were still edible before reluctantly returning it. You sat up, ready to dispute that, but he stopped you.

“Don’t deny it! I could tell because you started answering my messages at six in the morning instead of six-thirty,” he said, grinning smugly when you closed your mouth and relented, lying back down. “And you always brought me snacks after my practice. I knew then, I’m pretty sure, but I didn’t feel like I deserved it.”

The rooftop was small, the view was unimpressive, and the night air was cold and dry, but none of that really mattered to him. What mattered was you, your hand in his, and your head on his shoulder.

“I cannot comprehend why you think you’re so unlovable,” you mused. Your tone was light, but he could tell you were upset from the way your voice pitched up ever so slightly as it always did when you got emotional.

He watched you eat the gummy bears with a lingering mild concern, turning your words over and over in his head.

“I don’t think that exactly,” he answered after a long pause. “I just don’t really know who I am yet.”

The implied ‘how can I think I deserve love if I don’t even know myself?’ went unsaid, hanging in the air between you two like a stubborn fog unwilling to clear. Sometimes it really did feel like everyone else around him was racing ahead in front of him, leaving him in the dust, aimless and confused.

“I don’t know who I am either. Most people don’t, even if they act like they do,” you pointed out sagely. “We don’t need to have everything figured out.”

He smiled and adjusted the collar of your jacket to better shield you from the wind. “How did you get so wise?” he teased, playfully messing up your hair with his free hand. You automatically leaned into his touch when he did, like you’d never fought at all.

“If only my report cards agreed with you,” you laughed, suppressing a yawn and checking your watch. “It’s past midnight. We should go to bed,” you said quietly.

The loss of your warmth as you stood up and walked over to the rooftop door almost made him whine. He dragged himself to his feet, more tired than he would’ve liked to admit, until a realisation hit him.

“Wait,” he called, chasing after you. You turned around, looking so cute in your massive teddy jacket.

“What-”

Kai put one hand on your waist and the other on your jaw, tilting your head up so he could kiss you. He felt no surprise, no hesitation, no tension in your body as he did, even though he’d caught you off guard. Your lips were tinged with the artificial sweetness of the probably-expired gummy bears you’d been eating, soft and plush as they moved against his.

He had been craving this for so long — to feel your waist in his hands and your fingers in his hair, to be as physically close to you as the laws of nature would allow. A real, proper kiss, one where everything else in the world fell away and he could think of nothing but you.

He was forced to pull away by his pesky need for oxygen, feeling the urge to kiss you again the second he did. You looked up at him, slightly confused but mostly blissful, the sort of dazed contentment one felt after waking up and realising a loved one had covered them with a blanket while they were sleeping.

“What was that for?” you whispered, your cold fingers wrapping naturally around his forearms to hold him closer. Like it was magnetic, both of you were drawn to each other.

He beamed, pointed to your watch, and kissed your forehead one last time. “Happy 100 day anniversary.”

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#txt #tomorrow x together #hueningkai #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #txt series

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 5. Evie's Birthday

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 5 || Next Episode >>

Chapter Summary: Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warning: mature content in the form of very sensual dancing, alcohol consumption. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 5.6k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Evie’s Birthday

Tito — April 5

His conversation with Mat ran on a loop in his head; he had not thought about anything else for the last four days. Not on the flight back from New York. Not when he quietly crept into their— her bed. Not when he blankly stared at Instagram, rubbing her ankle that she had perched in his lap as she worked on her book. Not when they were cooking dinner together, working in practiced harmony. Not when she was cuddled up next to him on the couch, watching TV. 

He could barely stop thinking about it during training, so distracted that he was missing passes and fumbling drills.

He curses Mat over and over again in his head for forcing him to think about the what-ifs. He curses Mat for making him question everything they do together and whether it’s just friendly. He curses Mat for making him look for signs in everything Evie did, any changes that might mean she may no longer think of him as just a friend.

Tito sighs, looking at the bartender pouring his drinks.

He should be careful not to drink too much; he has a back-to-back to play this weekend. 

Tito downs both of the shots he ordered anyway. 

PRYSM is a massive club filled to the brim with people on a Friday night. But no matter how crowded it is, when he walks back to the dancefloor, his eyes find her immediately. Tito can’t help that his eyes have been following Evie all evening as she dances with her friends; the way her body moves, so confident and carefree. 

She looks happy. Tito’s glad that he decided to come to Evie’s birthday party despite his game tomorrow because he gets to see her look like this. 

He stands to the side of the dancefloor, not ready to be pulled into her orbit again. She’s got her head thrown back, laughing easily at something Kelsey was saying. He thinks about the Evie he met on Christmas morning; she looks so much lighter now. It all but confirms for him what he has been thinking: he can’t tell her. 

It would be selfish of him to tell her right as she’s starting to feel at home in Chicago, not after knowing how hard it was for her the first few months, how hard it was for her to feel like she belonged. But, here she is, with a small crowd of her friends, a mix of work friends, other writer friends, and even some of the couples from the team.

His thoughts are interrupted as he watches a man come up to her, whispering in her ear. He feels his guts twist and the vodka in his stomach taunting him. 

Fuck— that’s new.

It feels like torture, but he can’t look away, even as they start dancing, moving closer together. The man’s hands are on her body— fuck. Tito’s thankful for the dulling blur of the vodka seeping into his mind. He thinks about just leaving for the briefest of seconds before he catches himself. 

He’s only got sixteen more days with her. And he's not going to waste it on stupid, selfish jealousy. He made his choice, and he’s going to deal with the consequences. So, if that means being her wingman and feeling the pieces of his heart get torn out of his chest, it’ll be worth it for just a little more time.

Fifteen days and seven hours. The guilt rises in the back of his throat like bile; he still hasn’t told her he booked his flight. He swallows that down, too. Not on her birthday. He’s not going to ruin her birthday by making it about him.

Across the dancefloor, Evie’s eyes snap to him, and he has to breathe through the litany of emotions that bubble to the surface when she smiles so brightly at him. Having spotted him, she starts to push through the crowd towards him, her dancing partner forgotten. A small— evil— part of him rejoices.

“Tito! Oh my god, hey! Where the hell did you go? You were gone for fucking ages!”

“Bathroom, remember?”

She leans in close to his ear, her voice a low growl, “What? Were you getting a handy in there?”

He swallows and squeaks out, “What?”

She throws her head back and laughs, leaning into him, her hands landing on his chest. “You were in the bathroom for so long! I missed you.”

She beams up at him, and he fights the clench in his chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for that long.”

She pulls away and studies his face, her eyes glistening in the club lights. “Hang on a second, did you get a drink without me?” she accuses, jabbing his chest lightly.

“Uh… yes?”

She gasps, “Anthony! It’s my birthday! That’s so rude.”

Her eyes are so wide, looking up at him so seriously that he can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, ma chouette. Tell you what, if you want a drink, we can go get you one now. I will pay for whatever top-shelf tequila you want.”

“You better!” she yells, dragging him away by his arm before he can even respond. 

Evie —

Evie's pressed against the bar, protected from the pushing and shoving crowd by Tito’s solid body against her back. She’s waiting for their tequila shots when the thought occurs to her.

“Hey, Tito?” she glances back

“Yeah,” he leans in to hear her, filling her senses with his cologne.

“When did chouchou become chouette?”

He laughs, “Yeah, chouchou. Because you’re my cute little sugar-sweet owl. Big eyes, and so smart.”

She pouts, picking the only part she even remotely knows how to respond to. “I’m not that little.”

“To me, you are,” he says, tucking her under his chin. His body presses her into the bar, and the pressure sends a shiver down her spine. She’s glad that he can’t see the bright blush on her face.

“Fine, then. I get to call you something stupid, too.” She pauses as she thinks. “Solours. Like the yellow Care Bear.”

“Okay… The one with a smiling sun on its stomach? I’ll take that. It's so cute you remember his name,” he says, nuzzling her cheek with a laugh.

“At least you think I’m cute,” she tries to grumble.

She thinks she hears him say, “I really fucking do,” right as the bartender returns with their shots.

Tito spins her around and holds her hand in the non-existent space between them; he sprinkles some salt on it before handing her the lime and a shot. She waits for him to do his own hand but is caught watching his big hand move. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until her eyes flicker back up to meet his gaze, barely a foot from her face; his pupils swallow the normally serene blue as he focuses on her.

He holds her gaze as he licks the salt off his hand, slow and exaggerated, sending a prickling wave of heat through her body. 

Her mouth dries up watching his throat bob as he swallows down the shot. 

Her eyes snap up to his lips as they wrap around the lime, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks on the juice. 

When she follows a drop of juice roll slowly down his chin, she almost leans in to lick it away. 

She’s able to snap herself out of it before she does something stupid. She quickly takes her own shot, blood rushing in her ears. Her whole body feels like a livewire, buzzing. She barely even tastes the harsh slide of the alcohol or the tart sting of the lime. Even though she’s been standing absolutely still, her breathing is heavy.

Although only the edges of her mind are hazy, it still feels like wading into honey as she tries to figure out what they're meant to be doing next.

She says the first sane thing that pops into her head.

“Did you know this place has another dance floor?” 

“Oh yeah?” his mouth twitching.

“Yeah! I think it’s downstairs. It’s more for dancing; they move the tables on Fridays, so there’s more space.” 

There’s something alight in his eyes as he takes a step back, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go then.”

His expression settles in what she can only call a smolder; it looks so sinful compared to his usual, sweet smile. Evie can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes from her. Seemingly satisfied, he leads the way, keeping her close to him as they move across the room, down the stairs, and into the thick press of bodies on the crowded dancefloor.

The music down here is different: dark and sensual. Once they’ve gone deep enough into the crowd, Tito pulls her close and loops her arms around his neck. She feels the tequila coursing through her veins; her body suddenly warm all over. She can’t help but lean into his space, breathing in the intoxicating concoction of his sweat and cologne.

The crowd around them pulses in time with the music. When he pulls her even closer, she's so startlingly aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders that her forearms are resting on. In front of her eyes, a deep sliver of his chest glistens with sweat; his skin glows in contrast with the black shirt. The soft hairs at the nape of his neck keep brushing her hands and she just wants to bury her fingers in it.

Tito’s arms, locked together on the small of her back, tug her in close. Suddenly, all she can hear is her own breathing; the music of the club sounds far away and muffled like she’s underwater. She refuses to look at him, instead fixing her gaze on a point over his shoulder. She second-guesses the shot she just took because her mind feels too hazy, out of focus, and out of control. 

Or maybe she should've taken more shots, enough to get her out of her head like last time.

She promptly dismisses the blurry memories of last time. This isn’t like last time. Last time was just two people with alcohol coursing through their veins, getting lost in the heat of the moment. Neither of them had ever even brought it up again. She shouldn’t expect a repeat of their drunken misdeeds.

The next song plays, even more sultry than the last. She presses impossibly closer to him, their bodies slotting together perfectly. She presses her cheek to his and feels the small puff of air that brushes against her ear. It makes goosebumps erupt across her skin.

Evie tries to not think and just moves to the music, a small roll of her hips to the beat. Tito moves with her: hip to hip, chest to chest, cheek to cheek. She thinks about how easy it would be to move her head to the side and kiss him. She wonders if he would let her press their lips together again and just get lost in the overwhelming sensations, even without intoxication as the excuse.

She thinks she can feel the edges of his lips against her cheek where his hot breath tickles her skin, and it becomes all she can think about. What would those lips feel like on hers again? On her neck? On her shoulders? On every inch of her feverish skin?

Heat builds in her cheeks from that one minuscule point of contact, spreading south rapidly. She suddenly feels desperate and needy but unable to make a move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile balance they have at this moment. If this is all she gets, she’ll take it. 

Her hands move as if magnetized to the curls at the nape of his neck that she can’t stop thinking about; when her fingers finally bury themselves in his hair, giving it a gentle tug, she shivers at the shaky sigh he lets out at the sensation.

Her head starts to turn of its own accord, her lips brushing against his cheeks as they seek contact, but he pulls away so suddenly her vision swims. He spins her around between one breath and the next so that he's pressed along her back, his chin hooked over her shoulder, and his hands firm on the bone of her hips. 

She moves to make a comment but is unable to when her breath catches in her throat as she feels the heat of his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across the top of her shoulder. He moves up the column of her throat when she drops her head back onto his shoulder, granting him more access. 

He finds a sensitive spot right under her ear, drawing a whimpering moan from her lips as her hand flies back to grip his hair. The sound should be lost in the thrumming bass of the club, but she can feel him hear it when his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips briefly.

“Is this what you want?” he growls in her ear. The hand not in his hair reaches down to grasp the corded muscle of his forearm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her flush to his front. 

She nods weakly, her mind scattered as she tries to process every single point of contact. In the haze of tequila and adrenaline, it takes a moment for her to register the hard shape that's pressed lightly against her.

It becomes the only place she can focus on. She feels her frustration build; Tito isn’t doing anything, not rocking his hips into her or seeking any friction, just seemingly content to be glued along her back.

Evie can feel her heart racing to the loud thrum of the bass filling her chest; she starts to shift her hips to the music more boldly. There’s a sharp intake of breath before Tito freezes her hips with his arms, his teeth gently scraping the side of her throat.

“Chou,” he growls in her ear.

Sugar. Baby. Sweetheart. Her brain unhelpfully supplies in English.

God, she's going to think of this moment every time he calls her that from now on.

Her hand, the one still buried in his hair, fists the curls hard, pulling him even closer to her neck. He needs no further encouragement as he groans, scraping his teeth along her exposed neck. 

His forearm ripples under her hand as he spreads his large hand, covering so much of her ribcage it makes her dizzy; his pressure is utterly unyielding as his thumb brushes under the soft slopes of her breast. His other hand snakes down her body, parting the slit of her dress, until she feels his hot palm digging into the exposed skin of her bare thigh, effectively pinning her to him.

She feels wild; her attention split between his firm hands, his wet mouth, his hot and sweaty body against her back, the thick bulge pressing against her ass. She can feel him everywhere. It’s still not enough.

She slides her hand down his forearm and interlaces her fingers over his, pressing lightly as she encourages him to slide his hand further north.

“Chou— We— Ah, fuck.” His voice is rough in her ear, a whine lacing the edges of his words.

The thing is, she doesn’t need him to say it. He’s right. They should tone it down, but she doesn't want to. In the back of her mind, the knowledge prickles at her that their friends could find them like this on the dancefloor at any moment. She can’t bring herself to care as his hand follows her lead. Pleasure zings through her body when his fingers brush over her nipple before coming to rest against the hollow of her throat. 

There’s probably a limit to what she should ask of him as two friends overwhelmed by carnal sensations and the intoxicating atmosphere of the nightclub.

She grinds her hips meaningfully as he tilts her head, kissing her jaw and cheek. 

She can’t tell where the line is anymore. She doesn’t care. As long as Tito keeps going.

“Chou, God, you’re so fucking— We probably shouldn’t—” he rasps in her ear. 

Evie wants to hear none of it. 

She surges up and captures the lips she’s been reluctantly thinking about night and day for the past three weeks. 

Impossibly, it feels even better than she remembers. Tito's stunned for a second, but he goes easily when she turns in his arms to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt. It’s a relief when she feels him hum and melt into the kiss.

When they part, he just looks at her with a lazy smile that sends a jolt of fondness through her body. The longer he looks at her like that, the more she feels like a shaken-up Coke bottle. Waiting for what comes next. Building. Anticipating. 

Her eye catches on a bead of sweat as it rolls down his face and neck, and she doesn’t stop herself from leaning in and chasing its salty path with her tongue. The sound he makes in response comes from so deep in his chest that she wants to climb into his body to see if she can make him do it again. 

His hands, which were resting on her waist, slide down her back and over the swell of her ass— pausing for a quick squeeze— before they settle just below her cheeks, on the back of her upper thigh. She feels his fingers flex as he lifts her onto her toes, and she gasps when his hard length aligns with the valley of her hip.

“Oh my god—” Evie chokes out, throat tight with desire as she catches Tito’s smirk, his eyes so dark there’s barely any brilliant blue around the edge. They pause, lips barely touching, and breathing each other's air; it makes her dizzy. 

Falling back into his embrace feels like a flaming star caught amidst the gravity of a black hole called desire, their lips pressing together in a desperate plea for more. There’s a hook in her ribcage that tugs so strongly towards him it makes her ache.

As their tongues swirl, she finds herself wishing that this was real. That this was happening anywhere but here: a few drinks deep in a nightclub. That this was different than every other hook-up they’ve both had on any number of generic, replaceable dance floors.

She wishes this was happening in their bed, in their home— 

On her bed. In her home. 

The thought hits her square in the chest. She pulls away; their lips separate with a wet smack. Her vision was fuzzy, and she’s gasping for breath as Tito kisses down the column of her throat, unaware of her sudden turmoil. Her head swims with the reality of who she’s doing this with. 

This isn’t a stranger. Or an acquaintance. 

This isn’t even just a friend— 

This is Tito. Her Tito. Her Care bear, sunshine, as she had just called him earlier. 

What the fuck are they doing? What the fuck is she doing? This time, she doesn’t have the inebriation as a justification to placate herself with. Just misplaced desperation. 

Her mind suddenly feels too clear.

It’s when he gently nudges a thigh between her legs that she's struck by a need so strong that the feverish heat licks at every cell in her body, her skin crackling with it. 

They have to stop— She has to stop before Tito does something she’s sure he’ll regret tomorrow. She jumps back so abruptly that she almost pulls them both to the ground.

Frantically, Tito searches her face, brows creased in shock and concern. He steadies her firmly, holding her a foot away from him, fingers digging into her arm desperately as if he’s unwilling to let go.

“Whoa, what’s wr—”

He's interrupted by the squeal of Kelsey calling to them from a few paces away in the crowd. 

Evie jolts, eyes wide with panic as she pulls her arms away. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says to the approaching group as she slips into the crowd.

She faintly hears Alandra say, “I’ll go with her,” before her hand is on Evie’s back, guiding her to the bathroom.

She’s grateful that they do not speak; Evie only suffers her assessing gaze for the time it takes her to wash her hands and freshen up. She carefully puts on a neutral face and shrugs at Alandra’s quirked eyebrow through the mirror.

When they get back to the group, Tito isn’t there. Before she can panic, Jason squeezes her elbow to tell her he just went to sit down. She doesn’t think she can face him yet, not while she can still feel the hot brand of his hands all over her body.

So she stays and dances with the group for a while before following the majority of the group back to the VIP booth, where she finds Tito sitting, hunched over and staring into a glass. She sends him a soft smile and watches his shoulders relax when she slides down the booth so she’s next to him. She nudges him with her shoulder amiably. 

They both stay in their spots for the rest of the evening. Evie occasionally jumps into the conversation while Tito sits next to her, both uncharacteristically quiet. Eventually, she feels herself flagging, leaning more and more into Tito’s shoulder. When he finally speaks, it’s only to ask her if she’s ready to go home. She nods eagerly. 

They wave goodbye to everyone, and he guides her gently outside to a waiting car, his hand never touching her back even though she can feel it no more than an inch away. They sit in silence, listening to the quiet radio, both looking out the window.

She tries to not let their slight jilted awkwardness bother her as they get ready for bed, moving around each other as they do every other night. There’s only one moment where her hold on herself slips: she almost tells him to just fucking come here when he walks into the bedroom shirtless, having forgotten to take it with him to the bathroom. She slams her mouth shut before any words can leave her lips. 

“Good night,” she says instead, giving him a soft smile as she settles into the bed, turning towards the wall. She doesn’t even close her eyes and pretend to sleep, tension creeping back into her body.

After a moment or two, the lights turn off, and the bed dips beside her. She feels Tito lay on his back, stock still. For an excruciating minute, they both just listen to the sound of their measured breathing in the stagnant air of the bedroom.

It’s Tito who breaks; he sighs and rolls towards her. He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

“I think it’s past midnight,” he whispers into her hair, “Happy Birthday, chouchou.”

“Thank you, Solou.”

“Good night.” He chuckles at the nickname and presses a light kiss to her temple before settling back down.

With the weight of his arm around her waist, she falls asleep fast.

Evie — April 6

Evie wakes up on the morning of her 29th birthday to an empty bed. Her stomach drops as the weight of last night hits her. For a moment, she looks at the empty pillow next to her and feels the panic seeping in.

Her chest loosens when she sees a note left for her on her nightstand:

Good morning! Happy birthday mon chou. Sorry I can’t be there when you wake up BUT!!!! I made you some tea in a keep-warm mug (first present) ◡̈  I’ll see you when I get back after morning skate. — solours ♡ ☼

She just stares at the note for a while, her finger lightly tracing the heart and sun Tito drew on the page. She smiles when she picks up her new copper-colored Ember mug. She has been looking at getting one for a while and never took the plunge; $200 was a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a mug, even if it keeps her tea at the perfect temperature. She supposes Tito noticed her opening and closing that tab on her computer. 

She snaps a picture of her sitting in bed, holding the cup of tea, and sends it to Tito:

To tito 🧸🌞: [attachment: photo] I can’t believe you got this for me. Thank you. I love it.

Her tea is perfect when she finally takes a sip. She closes her eyes, head resting against the headboard, and just sinks into the feeling. The lingering remnants of the panic in her chest are replaced by a warm tingle that spreads from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Some time later, she's still cradling her empty mug while scrolling Instagram when she hears her front door open. There's some rustling in the living room and kitchen before Tito quietly pokes his head into the bedroom.

“Hi,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she whispers back. 

His face disappears from the doorway for a second before he returns, holding a small bag and a bouquet of flowers. Evie feels the air leave her lungs as he sits next to her on the edge of the bed.

“Happy birthday, ma chouette,” he says, voice impossibly gentle as he hugs her. She has to breathe through the wave of emotion that hits her, trying very hard not to teeter towards tears.

“Anthony, what the fuck?” she scolds quietly, releasing him from the hug, “I told you you didn’t need to get me anything.”

He shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to,” he says, handing over the bouquet.

She picks up the bouquet of flowers and inhales their sweet scent; it occupies her so that she wouldn’t do or say something stupid. 

“Well, thank you for the flowers. They’re so beautiful. How did you know I loved chrysanthemums?” Evie asks as she reverently brushes her fingertips over the spray of petals. It’s probably the most beautiful bouquet she’s ever seen, a bright contrast of colors between the mums, spray roses, peonies, and snapdragons.

“You mentioned it when you sent your mom a bouquet for her birthday. You made a terrible joke about ‘mums and moms,” he chuckles softly.

She looks up at him and searches his face. “That was in February.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs like it was no big deal. Like recalling the most inconsequential tidbit hidden in a joke months ago is a given.

“How do you even remember that?”

He smiles sheepishly, reaching for the bag and handing it to her. “Here. Open the box first, before the card.”

He helps her put the bouquet and mug down on the nightstand before watching her delicately unwrap the box, his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation. When she finally has it open, she gasps.

Inside the velvet jewelry box is a gold chain with three charms hanging down the middle. Evie’s fingers hover over them, almost scared to touch it as if the necklace would disappear if spooked. Eventually, ever so gently, she moves the charms so she can see them better: a tea bag, an ice skate, and a book. When she tilts it towards the light, she can see the title on the book is blank, but her name is engraved where the author would be.

She can’t bear to take her eyes away as she croaks, “Solours, this is…”

“Do you like it?” his voice fragile next to her.

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, “Yes, of course I do. This is— This is beautiful. I love it.”

The smile that lights up his face is blinding; her breath catches in her throat in response. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect he has when he reaches out to poke at the book charm. “The book charm is blank right now, but when you pick a title for your book, they can engrave it on for us. Right above your name.”

A small squeak slips out of her mouth as she fails to contain the tears that well up in her eyes.

“Woah, hey, hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can get you something else,” he says quickly, hugging her to his side. 

Her hands tighten on the box on reflex, pulling it close to her chest. “No— That’s not. Tito, I love it. I love it so much. It’s just— The mug, and this— I think this is the best gift anyone has ever gotten me. It’s— It’s too much.”

He squeezes her tighter, “Don’t be silly. It’s not too much, okay? Only the best gifts for my best girl.”

She makes a noise somewhere between a whimper, a sob, and a groan. It makes Tito laugh, and she sinks into the rumble of his chest against her cheek.

“Here. Would you like me to put it on for you?” he asks, pulling away slightly.

“Yes, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she hands him the box.

He stands and places the box on her nightstand, gingerly lifting out the necklace. She knee walks to the edge of the bed, her back facing him, and pulls her hair to the side. His fingers lightly brush her collarbones and neck as he gingerly puts the necklace on; every single hair on her body is standing on end as he works. 

When he finishes adjusting the necklace so it’s centered on her chest, he places a tender kiss on the top of her head.

“Perfect. Just like you,” he murmurs to himself against her soft hair.

“What?” she says, looking up at him upside-down with a smile crinkling her eyes.

He clears his throat. “Go take a look in the mirror, and then you have one more thing to open.” She leaps off the bed and places a soft peck on his cheek before skipping to the bathroom.

When she comes back into the room, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the envelope in his hand.

She beams, “It looks beautiful, Solou. I love it. Truly. Thank you.”

He shrugs and presses his lips together, holding the envelope out. “Here, open this.”

She comes to stand between his legs as she slides the card out of the envelope. A piece of paper flutters to the ground; she bends down to pick it up while she reads the card.

Evie— Ma chouette, I hope today can be at least a top 10 birthday for you. Because that’s what you deserve— the best. You are #1 on my list of favorite people (don’t tell Barz I said this, he will be fucking insufferable). You’re the best person I have ever met and I feel so lucky to call you my friend every single day. I don’t know how I would’ve done the past few months without you.  You’ve done so much for me and my career, so I wanted to do something for you. I hope this isn’t overstepping. I know that you probably know plenty of people in the industry, but I figured a few more contacts can’t hurt. On the piece of paper are the contact details of Zach Hyman and his book agent. Zach— because he knows what it’s like to publish a book. And his agent— well. You know how I asked if you had a brief for your book? Well, I may have asked Hyms to pass it along to his agent and she wants to meet you!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck, I’m so proud. I can’t wait to read your book. Happy birthday, chou.  Love, Tito

She stands there, slack-jawed, just reading the card over again and again until the handwriting on the page blurs. 

“Chou?” Tito’s worried voice asks. His hands come to squeeze her hips as she stands in front of him.

A tear escapes when she looks up at him, breaking the dam. She’s 99% sure it isn’t a pretty cry.

“Chou— Evie, hey!” his voice is increasingly urgent as he quickly grabs the card and paper and puts it to the side. “Woah, please— Please don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

“I— I can’t believe you did this for me,” she gasps out between sobs. 

His hands reach up to wipe her cheeks. “Do what, chou?”

“You— I—” She takes a heaving breath to try to steady out the sobs as she looks down at his furrowed brows. She leans forward, her knees resting against the bed, as she smoothes them down and cradles his cheeks in her hands.

“I’m sorry I’m crying,” she laughs wetly, “I’m very happy. This just happens sometimes. I’m—”

Unable to form any of the words she wants to at that moment, Evie just envelops him in a hug so strong it knocks him back on the bed. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she chants as she crawls into his lap. They both hold each other tightly, unwilling to let go.

After a few minutes, she startles, becoming aware of the position that they've ended up in, and loosens her hold to roll off him. 

Next to her, Tito asks, “You hungry? I was gonna make you some French toast for breakfast.”

Right on cue, her stomach rumbles, and she feels his laughs reverberate in her own chest. He taps her thigh gently, encouraging her to sit up, “Come on, let’s go.”

With an outstretched hand, he pulls her up.

“God, Tito, how are you such a perfect—” She catches herself, thinking back to his card, “How are you such a perfect friend? It’s ridiculous.”

He chuckles tersely. “Practice,” he mumbles. Evie misses the bitterness underlying his tone.

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[rogue-durin-16]

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

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

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

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