#I’m meeting the author next week but haven’t read her new series

[hellwasthejourney]

I’ve read 4 books this month but they are all re reads. Oops

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia I: cutting through the darkness, bouncing off the walls.

Next chapter

Neuvillette x fem!reader

Word count: 2.2k

You become the assistant to the new ruler of Fontaine. (Set after the Fontaine archon quests, so spoilers if you haven’t already done it.)

Authors note: its finally here! I’ve separated it into chapters out for ease of reading. It should all be up within the next week or so. This is mostly sfw, a little suggestive at times, but the final chapter will contain nsfw content. Series name and chapter titles are from my literal favourite song ever, aqua regia by sleep token. It’s a very fitting song for this story. Enjoy!

———————————

The sun had not even reached its peak in the sky, dew still glistening on the cypress trees in the gardens outside, and already Neuvillette was pinching his brow, eyes feeling heavy as he slaved over the seemingly endless pile of paperwork that was stacked upon his desk. 

Sedene entered his office without knocking, a common occurrence, and one that never bothered him before— only worrying him now because he didn’t want her to see the way his shoulders slumped slightly— an incredibly unprofessional posture. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, your 10 o’clock appointment has arrived.” She said, eyeing him from her spot in the doorway. 

He nearly jumped, but kept his calm facade as he shuffled around the papers on his desk, looking for his schedule for the day, but it seemed it was lost to the void of unfinished work he was drowning in. 

“My apologies, Sedene, I seem to have misplaced the itinerary I had written out for the day, would you remind me who it is I am meeting with?”

Sedene smiled, her eyes soft. “It’s Miss Charlotte, from The Steambird. You agreed to an interview with her last week, Your Honor.” 

“Sedene, please,” Neuvillette sighed, though his tone remained light and pleasant. “The formal honorifics outside of the courtroom are far from necessary.”

“Alright, sir.” The melusine smiled. “Shall I send her in?” 

Neuvillette tried to right himself, stacking his finished documents and unfinished work in separate piles to seem organized, though he would probably regret it later. 

“Yes, please.” He said. “And if you have the time, perhaps some tea? I’m sure she’ll be here for a good while.” 

Sedene nodded, turning to leave, before the Iudex called out to her again. “Sedene?” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“I believe…” he let the tension fall from his shoulders finally, giving up on trying to hide his weariness from her. “I believe I’m in need of some aid, if I am to continue this way.” 

Sedene just hid a chuckle behind her soft hand. “Perhaps you should ask Miss Charlotte to put an ad in the newspaper?”

With his final acceptance of his situation, he nodded. “Perhaps.” 

—————

“—And then I told him that there was no need, I had the perfect candidate in mind, and if he did not like you, then I would put the ad in the paper— although I told him there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t completely adore you altogether.” 

You listened to your friend talk animatedly, finally hearing her take a breath without continuing her thought. You certainly loved Charlotte, but conversations about things like work and her other passions tended to be relatively one-sided. 

“I’m sorry, just to reiterate, you personally recommended me to the chief justice for a position as his personal assistant?” 

“Of course! You were a PA at the steambird for so long, and you did so well there, everyone loved you!” She grinned, taking another sip of her tea. 

The café was rather packed today, and your macarons sat perfectly stacked in a cute pile on your plate. Your favourite desert by far, and café Lutece’s were second only to the treats made by Miss Navia herself. 

“Yes, but that was the Steambird.” You said, tracing a finger over the delicate shell of the top macaron on the pile. “We’re talking about the chief justice here— the new ruler of Fontaine— how are we even supposed to address him now?” 

You started to panic a little, not used to interacting with nobility, let alone the person of the highest social status in all of Fontaine— overlooking the love the citizens still held for lady Furina, of course. 

“I’m not sure, but you’ll get to ask him tomorrow!” Charlotte exclaimed, making you gawk at her. “I knew you were free so I arranged a meeting for you tomorrow at noon! Isn’t it exciting?” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, then did a couple loops around there before it lurched into your throat. 

“Charlotte! I really appreciate you doing this for me, but I am woefully underprepared for this? What am I supposed to do? What will I even wear? Do I need to bring a resume? List of references? What—“

“Woah, woah,” Charlotte reached across the table, running a soothing hand down your forearm. “It’s not that serious, he’d just like to meet you over some tea at the Palais. He’s not all that intimidating after you meet him, hun. I promise you I wouldn’t have put you up to this if I wasn’t one hundred percent confident in you.” 

Your breathing settled a bit as she comforted you, though your mind was still racing. 

“You’ve got this in the bag.” Charlotte smiled, and you hoped she was right. 

——————

You smoothed your hands over your skirt nervously as you made your way to the steps outside the Palais Mermonia.

You wore the nicest outfit you owned that didn’t stray into formal wear territory, not that you had many dresses of that caliber. 

A dress, cut just above the knee, a beautiful deep blue color. A matching ribbon tied around the collar of the white puff sleeved undershirt, and a navy waistcoat cinched tightly in the back with a bow. Paired with your nicest stockings and a lovely pair of boots that Miss Navia had gotten you last year for your birthday, you looked every bit the part of an upper class citizen of Fontaine. 

Your insecurities ate at you, but you fixed a stray hair and smiled at the cute little dog dressed in a guard uniform that was trotting outside the lift. You were on high alert, but seeing everyone standing around, acting normally, enjoying the sunshine— well that made it seem a little better. 

You greeted Liath as she skipped around the entrance, feeling even better as she smiled brightly at you. You made it a point to personally get to know all the melusine around the city, finding them to be extremely fascinating beings, and upon doing so, learning that they were among the sweetest, kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

“I heard you’re going to be working here!” Liath said, throwing her arms out in excitement. “That will be so lovely! I will get to see you every day!” 

You giggled a bit, not wanting to burst her bubble. “It’s just an interview, Liath. Nothing is set in stone just yet.” 

“Well I just know you’re going to get the job, you’re so very lovely.” 

You pressed a hand over your heart, feeling your face heat up. 

“You always say the kindest things when we speak, I'm very flattered. I hope I get the job too.” 

She wished you good luck and sent you off, and you entered the building with your heart once again in your throat. 

You walked through towards the head office, nodding at the gestionnaire ladies who were working diligently at their tables before you heard your name ring out from the end of the hall. 

Sedene scurried out from behind her station, coming to greet you. 

“Sedene!” You exclaimed. “It’s been a while, you look so beautiful! are you doing something new with your hair?” 

She smiled sheepishly, pawing at her hair under her hat. “Miss Seigewinne got me some new hair oils, imported from Liyue! They’re very lovely, and smell just heavenly!” She leaned towards you, tilting her head in offering. “Here, smell!” 

You giggled again, a little taken aback, but leaned in to smell her anyway. True to her word, Sedenes hair smelled just lovely, sweet and floral, yet unlike anything you’d ever smelled here in Fontaine. 

“Oh, wow, that's beautiful!” You said. “The next time I go to see the Duke, I’ll have to ask Seigewinne where exactly she got it from.” 

Sedene agreed, and pointed towards the door to your right. “He should be ready for you, I brought the tea in just a moment ago.”

Dread tried to creep its way back into your throat, but Sedene reached up to take your hands into her soft paws. 

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Was all she said before she smiled and skipped back to her station. 

You walked swiftly to the doors, and before you lost your nerve creaked them open and peaked inside. 

The chief justice was at his desk, eyes flitting over a document held loosely in his hand. He looked so regal and intimidating, his clothes finely pressed and tailored to fit him exceptionally well. Upon your entry, his gaze snapped up, and you swore you could see the faintest hints of embarrassment cross his face. 

Your name fluttered past his lips as he stood, and you shivered a bit at the way his voice uttered the word. 

“My apologies, I did not hear you enter. My attention seems to be scattered as of late.” 

“No, no, please.” You said, stepping further into the room as the door closed audibly behind you. “It’s my fault, I should have knocked first.” 

“Your arrival was anticipated, and Sedene must have sent you through, therefore there was no need for you to knock, I assure you.” 

Neuvillette walked closer to you, holding out his hand for you to shake. You took it,  trying to remember everything you were ever taught about shaking someone’s hand during interviews, but taken aback at how large his hands seemed compared to yours. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Neuvillette said, his hand grasping yours just a beat longer than normal before he pulled away, gesturing to the chair he had set up in front of his desk. “I’ve heard so much about you, please, have a seat.” 

He pulled the chair out, the perfect gentleman, pushing it back under you as you folded your hands under your skirt to tuck it under your bottom, sitting down. 

He rounded the desk and said down, pouring you a cup of tea before sliding the tray of additives closer to you. 

“All good things, I hope?” You said, adding your preferred mixture of extras to your tea. 

“Pardon?” Neuvillette seemed a bit distracted, his eyes jumping back to you from where he seemed to be zoning out. 

“You said that you’ve heard a lot about me,” you said, smiling over the rim of your teacup. Your confidence grew with each passing moment in his office, he just seemed so… normal. A bit scattered—as much as he seemed to try to hide it, which made your chest feel light and airy—but so normal. “I was just hoping they’re all good things.” 

He blinked at you, gears finally clicking into place, before a bit of a sheepish look crept onto his face. 

“Ah, well— yes.” He said, picking up his teaspoon and stirring his tea despite not putting anything in it. “You came highly recommended by Miss Charlotte, and upon hearing of this meeting, a multitude of melusines came to sing your praises, which shocked me a little, but I have heard them speak of you in passing, so I suppose my surprise was short lived.” 

“They speak of me?” You asked, feeling a bit flustered. 

“I’ve heard your name more than once.” He said, taking a sip of his tea. “The girls tend to talk about those who are kindest to them quite a lot, they are all rather fond of you.” 

“Are you close to them?” You asked, already knowing half the answer. “They all speak quite fondly of you.” 

He smiled a bit brighter. “I like to think I am. They are the pride of Fontaine, and therefore I take much pride in them as well.” 

You found yourself staring at his smile. 

You’d only ever seen Neuvillette in the occasional trial you attended. He was always stone faced, serious, and oh so untouchable. High, high up in his seat, looking down on all others. Seeing him here, you couldn’t help but think he looked so very human. 

“To the matter at hand,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “I will not lie to you, since Lady Furina stepped down I have had an influx of responsibilities to take on, and while I am fully prepared to do so—I find myself in need of…” 

He seemed a bit lost, maybe a bit embarrassed. 

“Some help?” You said softly. 

He sighed. “Yes. Even with all of her frivolity and splendor, Lady Furina did take on her fair share of duties when it came to making sure Fontaine stayed well functioning and stable.” 

Neuvillette seemed a bit wistful then, slightly sad, staring off into the space just beside your head. 

“Monsieur?” 

“Ah, forgive me.” He seemed to shake himself out of it. “I am deeply honored to be entrusted with the care of his nation, but it seems like some assistance would be extremely beneficial to this transitionary period in time, and likely beyond as well.” 

“If I may say so, sir, I think you’re doing a wonderful job already.” You thought about how well the crisis of the flood was handled, the aftermath, the reparations. “I would be honored if you chose me to be the one to aid you in this.” 

He smiled again, softly, and you hoped you’d be able to see it more in the future. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I would be so very grateful.” 

[scifrey]

Cling Fast

By Losyark

Read below, or read the updated/edited version over on AO3.

The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon, and Gaiman Cinematic-Literary Universe canon) Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus) Complete Mature Unbeta’d

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series “Elizabethan Manor,” they’re overjoyed to find a professor of domestic history who, according to their meticulous research, is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they’re filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Picks up a few hours after the end of Episode 6.

*

Author’s Note: I don’t know what I’m doing. New to this fandom, new to this ship, and this is the first fanfic I’ve written in over a year. I am just coming back from a creative burnout so bad that I ended up leaving my literary agent.

I haven’t written anything that isn’t loosely connected drabbles in literally years. So, I don’t know what’s going to happen with this fic. It may get written, it may fizzle. I have the idea plotted out, but I’m trying to approach it cautiously, with my eyes averted, in case it spooks and bolts.

That’s why I’m posting this here instead of AO3, I guess. I want to see if it’s something that resonates with people, and me, before I commit to posting it there.

*

Prologue

"One hundred years, then?" Hob's Stranger asks, hours later, when Hob's talked himself hoarse and his business partner is flipping chairs onto tables to mop. Hob's marking has been jammed unceremoniously into his briefcase and completely forgotten, and there are three empty pint glasses at his elbow. The wine glass in front of his Stranger is still full.

"2089 or 2122?" Hob asks, through disappointment like broken glass on his tongue.

Chapter One

The problem with Hob Gadling is that–and he will admit to this–he really is a bit clingy. Always has been. And sometimes it bites him straight in the arse.

Chapter Two

“Remarkable,” Doctor Harriet Butler says, freezing mid-handshake when she meets Hob’s eyes. “Just remarkable, the resemblance–”

“I’ve heard that a lot today,” Hob tries to interrupt, embarrassed by how much two separate BBC Historics production assistants have already gushed over him in the short walk from the Broadcast House lobby to this back office. 

Chapter Three

It's a diary. It's Eleanor's diary. Hob hadn't even known El had kept a diary.

“It’s her handwriting,” is the first shaky thing he says, flipping open the cover. “I… I never thought I’d see it again, I never…” the rest of the sentence is lost in an ugly, phlegmy hiccough.

Chapter Four

Hob spends the next month finalizing deal memos outlining compensation and percentages, which Lucienne helps him parse, and then quibbling with the legal department of the BBC on the actual phrasing of the longform contract to ensure he’s not accidentally signing away his soul. He’s already done one deal with an all-powerful, unknowable entity without being aware of what he was agreeing to. He’s not keen on doing it again.

Chapter Five

Either out of pity for his exhaustion or because he had duties of his own to prioritize, Morpheus doesn’t appear to Hob during his sleeping hours in this week. Hob only manages to concentrate enough to relocate himself to the castle only the one night. He finds himself alone in the throne room, and enjoys the opportunity to spend some time with his own company, after so many hours being crowded by the rest of the Historics team.

Chapter Six

Hob's house used to smell of—of flowers from the garden, and good clean horse sweat from his rides, and El's sweet perfumes, and the waft of fresh bread or sugar-and-rosewater from the kitchens, and the fatty funk of tallow candles burning, and whatever Robyn was into lately, mudpies or oil paints, and the polishing oils the servants used on the wood and boots, and the gentle fragrance of whiskey and porto after dinner, and… And now it just smells like aggressively, astringently nothing. Like a museum.

Chapter Seven

Hob wakes up with a splitting headache, but otherwise no other effects from his hangover. Except for the sinking feeling that comes with remembering that he screwed up his 1589 feast again. Would it be pathetic to try a third time? Especially knowing now that Morpheus rarely eats, and when he can be persuaded to, it's never British fare. Yeah, it would be pathetic.

Chapter Eight

For the first time in six hundred and seventy-two years, Hob is genuinely angry at Morpheus.

Chapter Nine

Hob throws the door of the flower shop open hard enough that it rattles in its frame. “Sorry!” he shouts. “And sorry, I know you’re about to close, I was stuck at work for hours and I just–” He looks around the shop, realizing that he is utterly, utterly out of his depth. “I need help.”

Chapter Ten

Today is the day that Hob drowns, and on the whole he's feeling pretty sanguine about it.

Chapter Eleven

Somehow, the summer and Hob's brush with the glitz and glam (more like the sleep deprivation and hurry-up-and-wait) of The Biz comes to an end. The first week of classes start up, and as he promised Morpheus, Hob eschews sleep in order to review the texts, and write the syllabuses and prepare the lectures that he didn't have time to over the summer. Morpheus only throws sand in his face and drags him down into the Dreaming twice, when Hob hadn't caught so much as a cat-nap on his junky office sofa in over forty-eight hours.

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

++ Dark Fic Edition ++

A quick note about this week’s rec list — all fics listed are considered “dark fic,” i.e. they include dark themes and content. It’s therefore as important as ever to mind the tags and curate your own reading experience and remember the cardinal rule: if you don’t like, don’t read.

I wanted to do this special edition of Fic Recs Friday to support the writers on this list and all who write dark fic in general. I personally have greatly enjoyed expanding my reading horizons thanks to their deft ability to explore these darker themes with thoughtfulness and sensitivity, all while crafting some truly amazing, compelling stories.

Finally — please be kind, respectful of others’ reading and writing experiences, and remember that creators of fanworks do what they do for free, and are entitled to write whatever they want. They owe me/you nothing except some tags to provide a heads up on what we’re getting into. I do not condone any kind of fandom harassment, least of all based on story subject matter.

Without further ado! As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

+++

The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: The Greatest Slavery by @demonscantgothere

What you need to know going in:

Another @demonscantgothere classic! I’m obviously a fan, and I remember reading this early on in the fandom. Previously complete at 3 chapters, it’s recently been expanded/continued beyond the initial conclusion, and is now currently a WIP slated for 10 chapters! The premise: Sauron has Celeborn prisoner, and the only way he’ll return him to Galadriel is if she accepts his terms… without knowing what they are. 👀 I don’t want to spoil the first half of the story, so I’ll leave it at that, but I will say to expect possessiveness, fiery smut, and a heaping helping of anguish and angst for all parties. This one will make you heartsick in the best way; the way only a great classic, even a tragic one, can do.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: the shark in your water by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

I recently got caught up on this modern AU from @bad-surprise in a bid to speed through my list of their fics to read, and OOF. Unsettling, but in the best, most compelling way, this fic features an underage Galadriel playing with fire by being intrigued by, then getting involved with her new stepbrother, Halbrand. The tension of their dynamic in this story is razor-sharp; every moment, you’re wondering what’s going to happen next, whether you’ll witness tenderness or another taste of horror, and you can’t tear your eyes away. Darkly captivating… don’t miss it.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: To the End of Days by @scriberated

What you need to know going in:

Another favorite from the talented @scriberated, and the first part of a WIP series I’m 👀 to see how it ends. In this first installment, Galadriel returns to the Southlands, believing she’s “saving” Halbrand after he mysteriously disappears in the fight against Adar. Let’s just say that she’s in for a surprise when they re-meet; I don’t want to give away any more than that. In short, be ready to be consumed by flames because the betrayal, desperation and domination, and smut all burn. 🔥🔥🔥 And burn good.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): My Loathing Star by @myrsinemezzo

What you need to know going in:

Full disclosure, this story from @myrsinemezzo was gifted to me so I’m a little biased, but damn if it ain’t gripping as hell. A continuation from a larger, smut-tastic series where Galadriel and Halbrand get close and then closer after Galadriel agrees to have her body painted by a celebrated artist in Eregion (which, yes, I definitely recommend reading all of what came before!), this story is in its infancy, but holds so much promise for what’s to come. It begins with even more scintillating smut before taking a darker turn that I won’t spoil. Prepare for another possessive and preening Sauron, and a Galadriel just starting to come to terms with what she’s gotten herself into. Where they go from here, I don’t know, but I’m excited to find out.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: made of skin by AlterMortem

What you need to know going in:

It’s the Severance AU! If you’re unfamiliar with the Apple TV show, oh boy, definitely add that to your list — but even if you aren’t, while seeing it does provide helpful context, you can definitely still enjoy this mind-bender of a story, which sees Galadriel voluntarily becoming “severed” to solve the mystery surrounding her brother Finrod’s death. In other words, there are two Galadriels—who she is at work, and who she is at home… and neither have the freedom or autonomy she thinks she does, particularly once she meets Halbrand, her supervisor at Lindon Industries. As a fan of the show and trippy, sci-fi (ish) fare, I binged the heck out of this this week after hearing amazing things and it did NOT disappoint. Equal parts engrossing, electric, and unnerving.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter and AO3.

+++

🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[adarlingwrites]

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

I

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh.  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

II

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

[yuueee]

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 fire lord! zuko x fire lady! reader

authors note: Firstly I just want to apologize for the hiatus, I want to be more active from now on! I’m starting finals next week so I’ll thankfully be done with this semester soon and will also have more time to write. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! I also want to apologize if Zuko is ooc here.

requests:

First of all, your tumblr looks sooooo cool! I’m looking forward to reading all of your future work! Imagine this: Zuko is annoyed by people constantly asking him about a future heir, but when one day his friends also start to ask, and even his uncle and his own mother join the baby fever train, it’s too much for him so he complains about it to his wife who only reassures him with her lovely self and her understanding smiles, not telling him yet that she is in fact pregnant. What do you think ?

Can you write an imagine with zuko who is clearly, utterly and soooo obviously in love with the reader (outgoing, courageous, loving) and maybe with the prompt “So you...well...I mean...I could give you a massage?” Thank you a lot! ^^

As the current Fire Lord and Lady, it wasn’t uncommon for the citizens of the Fire Nation to be deeply invested in your relationship - it was to be expected especially due to the uncommon nature of your union. What you weren’t expecting were Zuko’s close friends and relatives being wrapped up in your business as well. Being outside of team avatar, you were naturally more welcoming to his friend's constant questioning, but Zuko on the other hand was not. He couldn’t understand why they cared so much all of the sudden. They hadn’t been as interested when he was in a relationship with Mai - so why did they care so much now?

It wasn’t as if you weren’t getting along with his friends or family - you got along with them quite well and were very loved by them in fact. Outside of them though, you weren’t always as welcomed, unfortunately, the Fire Nation was still coming to terms with having the daughter of an Earth Kingdom General as their Fire Lady. The arranged marriage was put in place to solve several different ‘problems’. After Zuko broke up with Mai several years ago, he hadn’t begun dating anyone else due to being so busy but he’d eventually be expected to have an heir in the next coming years.

Although they had gotten better, tensions among the Earth Kingdom Colonies were still high and both sides were having difficulty keeping them under control. Eventually, an agreement was made for the daughter of a high-ranking Earth Kingdom General to marry Zuko - that daughter being yourself. Arranged marriages certainly weren’t unheard of in either nation - but a union of this sort was definitely unique.

Though he certainly wasn’t thrilled about it, Zuko understood that it was for the good of the people - and it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it anyway. Even with his position as the recently crowned Fire Lord there still wasn’t much he could do.

On the other hand, you understandably had some issues coming to terms with your new situation at first. Despite being known by those around you as friendly and just a joy, in general, to be around - the woman Zuko had first met was quite the opposite. He could recall it like it was yesterday. Though it was awkward and stressful at the time, he now considered it to be the best day of his life.

“She’s in there.” A female servant whispered to the young man quietly, as if she didn’t want to speak loud enough for you to hear from your place at the balcony.

“Thanks,” he replied with a soft smile, bidding the elderly woman goodbye as she shuffled down the hallway. Turning towards you he was faced with a warm tropical breeze. His advisors had arranged for the two of you to meet a couple of weeks before that dreaded day, and for some reason, they thought Ember Island was the appropriate place. A combination of anxiety and general distaste for being on the island was causing him to be quite stressed - which led him to be more awkward than usual.

“Um, hello?” he spoke up faintly, as if not to startle you. He was sure you heard him come in, but you hadn’t turned around since he entered the small room. You stood several feet away with your hands placed on the railing, your [hair-texture] locks sifting gently with each gust of wind along with your predominantly red clothing. It was against what you had wanted to wear that day but it didn’t seem as if you had much a say in anything going on in your life recently.

You understood that doing this would be for the greater good of the Earth Kingdom and that your situation could technically be worse. You could have been married off to some old creep - but if you were being honest with yourself being married to the Fire Lord sounded just as bad. As you turned around though, you were surprised at the face you were met with.

He had a much younger face than you had expected, but the slight hollowness of his cheeks and the worry lines on his forehead told you that he had experienced things beyond his years. He also happened to be quite handsome - not that you wanted to admit it though. You had been bent on hating him ever since your father told you who you’d be wedding.

He was the leader of the Fire Nation, of course, you would hate him! The country that has had a century-long reign of terror on the world - and now you found yourself engaged to their leader. What had you done so wrong in your life to deserve this?

As much as you wanted to plan on running away the first chance you got, you knew deep inside that it would only cause tensions to increase and more issues to arise. You wanted the best for the residents of the Earth Kingdom, so you agreed to go through with it, but did so resentfully - which you had every right to feel that way.

But as you glared up at the young male next to you and tried to keep your attention off of the scar over his left eye - you couldn’t help but wonder what if this was the man who joined the avatar in defeating the Fire Lord? He wasn’t what you expected at all. Standing in full armor with his hair holding the fire nation insignia in a top knot - he looked awkward and out of place. You almost felt bad for him - keyword is almost.

“What do you need Fire Lord?” you questioned him, turning your gaze back to the rushing waters of the ocean.

“Um,” he faltered slightly, probably not anticipating your response. “I just wanted to introduce myself-“

“I know who you are.” you brushed him off, turning around and walking towards him - grabbing his collar and pulling him to your height. “We might be getting married but if you think for a second I will ever be nice to you, you are sadly mistaken.” you hissed at him before letting him go and walking out of the door.

Zuko couldn’t recall how long he stood there watching your form leave, all he remembered was standing there like an idiot with a red face. He hadn’t expected you to like him of course but he surely wasn’t expecting that.

As he reminisced on memories long ago while sipping his Uncle’s tea, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his features. As stated earlier, It may have been an unpleasant memory back then but now he considered the day he met you to be the best day of his life. Though your relationship had surely faired through many complications for a while in the beginning - surprisingly, you became fond of Zuko over the years.

It was certainly a long time coming but that strange friendship you two shared eventually evolved into love against all odds. That didn’t mean you weren’t constantly giving him an ear full (as you should tbh) your first months together. But as time progressed and you learned that he may not have been the evil prince that you had heard so much about, at least not anymore.

He wasn’t that same angsty teenager he had been years ago looking for the avatar, he was now a young adult growing quite well into the position of the Fire Lord - which was no easy feat. Taking another sip of tea, he watched his Uncle and Mother come to take a seat with him.

“How is it, Nephew?” His Uncle asked with a mischievous grin and a raise of two bushy eyebrows - albeit already knowing the answer.

“It’s great as always Uncle,” Zuko responded with a small smile, his Uncle's expression making him just a bit concerned, causing his Mother to chuckle. Though she had gained a few wrinkles over the past couple of years, she was still as radiant as she had been in her youth. She was also much happier being able to live with the family she had been apart from for many years without fearing Ozai’s intervention. It came with a price though - it seemed as if her relationship with her estranged daughter who was now on the run would never be resolved. She never lost hope though.

“Zuko,” his mother began speaking, catching the young Fire Lord’s attention with a raise of his eyebrows. “When are you going to give me a grandchild?” She asked teasingly, eager to see his reaction. In turn, her son had barely kept himself from spitting out the mouthful of tea.

“Why do you ask that?” He choked out in between a series of coughs with Iroh patting his back gently.

“You haven’t?” She asked in between chuckles, noticing how her son got bewildered at the mention of having children of his own. “You know you’ll eventually have to have an heir at some point right?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it... but Y/N and I are just really busy.” He thought aloud, wishing he could run a hand through his hair - but was unable to since it was pinned in a top knot.

“Zuko, you never know when you’ll get this time of peace again. What better time to raise a child?” Iroh reassured, wiggling his eyebrows. Letting out a groan, the young Fire Lord attempted to mentally prepare himself to go through this same conversation every time he visited his family.

Over the next couple of weeks, the constant badgering he received from his friends and close relatives started to frustrate him further, so who could he turn to? You of course.

Being married for several years now, you were more than used to Zuko’s rants, so you simply just reclined on the bed with an eyebrow raised as he paced back and forth.

“I don’t get it! Why is everyone so concerned about when we’re going to have a child or not?” He questioned seemingly no one as you attempted to keep your face from contorting into a smile. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand his frustrations, it was just funny to watch, especially since you were already pregnant.

You were surprised that he hadn’t noticed honestly, with you staying in for the past few days due to feeling sick. Who could blame him though? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t attentive and loving as a husband, he was extremely busy as of recent-and also just dense at times. After noticing his silence for a few moments as he looked over the balcony, you decided that maybe this could be the perfect time to tell him.

Getting up and sneaking behind him, you snaked your arms around his waist and turned so you could see his face. He let out an audible sigh of what sounded like relief before returning your smile and your hug.

“You want a head massage?” You questioned pulling away, wiggling your fingers playfully.

“Please.”

For the past couple of years, Zuko had been letting his hair grow out so now it rested around his shoulders.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” You started tentatively, but as usual, he was too caught up in the sensation of your fingers raking across his scalp to entirely understand what you were saying, so he just nodded in response. “I’m pregnant.” You stated plainly, ceasing your scratching. Not getting a response for a few moments, you turned to face him with a worried expression.

Much to your surprise he was grinning up at you and placed a warm hand on your cheek. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell y-“ you were abruptly cut off by him pulling you into another hug and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “So you’re happy about it?”

“Couldn’t be happier.” He responded sincerely, leaning into your shoulder so you couldn’t see the redness on his cheeks.

Maybe your family and friends would finally leave the two of you alone now?

taglist: @practicallylivesonline @chewymoustachio

[in-tua-deep]

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

[fa-headhoncho]

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 1871 (ahaha, yea)

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers might be triggering??? idk

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to end my 141 part Wattpad Sebastian Stan imagine book and post on Tumblr instead :’), a happy day. Also, I’M SORRY THAT I LIKE SLOW BURN SERIES OK? Schedule for this series is every Thursday. ALSO IF YOU HAVE TITLE IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES, LMK! PLEASE

Masterlist

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

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The sound of your heels echoed throughout the dimly lit room as you make your way through the exhibit. The walls take you back in time, reading how Captain America came to be and all his past accomplishments. They even updated from the last time you were here, documenting the events on the Blip.

You didn’t even know where you were going, absently letting your emotions and feet lead to where it felt you needed to be.

“For a former spy, you’re not really good at sneaking up on someone.” Rhodes’ voice greets you once you open up the curtain to a different area. A small smile sneaks its way across your face seeing the two men in front of you.

“Bit out of practice.” You spit back, walking towards them. “It’s nice to see you again, Rhodie.” You open your arms out to him and he gladly takes the hug. “Hopefully life’s been treatin’ you well.”

“For the most part,” He chuckles out while pulling away from the embrace. You move on to the other man, him happily wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap yours around his shoulders.

Sam lets out a breath into the crook of your neck before pulling back. “You doing okay?” You ask, looking at his face for any sign of emotion. He nods but there was something in his eye that told otherwise.

You open your mouth to push him for the real answer but Rhodes cuts you off, “Well, I have to get going. It was good seeing you, (Y/L/N), hopefully, we work together soon. Remember what I said, Sam.” With that, he leaves the room to leave you and Sam alone.

The room fills with silence as the two of you turn to the iconic suit and shield in front of you. You try to watch Sam from the corner of your eye but he just stands with his back straight and his eyes forward.

“You know, I’m sure Steve would understand.” You decide to say, clasping your hands in front of you. “I didn’t become as close as you did, but from my time with him during the Blip, he tried his best to help everyone. He had a lot of responsibilities and issues of his own along with having a whole country looking up to him... 

“It was a lot… he opened to me about it one night before… you know.” You admit which makes him finally look at you. “He told me what he was going to do and all I could do is support him… I asked him what he was going to do with the mantle and he said give it to you.” Turning your head, you make eye contact with him. “I asked him if he was sure.”

He lets out a snort at that, shaking his head at you. “Really gotta do me like that?” He wipes his hand across his face then stuffs his hand in his pockets as he turns to face you. “I thought we were having a nice bonding moment and then you had to drop me like that?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at his whining. “I’m being serious, Sam, stop.” You hit him on the shoulder. “He said there was no doubt in his mind that you do what needed to be done with the shield. He trusted you and your judgment, Falcon.” You emphasize his hero name which he just rolls his eyes at you.

“Yea, I’m sure he did.” He smiles and then changes the subject, “How’s parole treatin’ ya, still got the collar on?” He gestures to your ankle causing you to lift your dress pant leg, flashing the electric bracelet around your ankle. He lets out a hearty chuckle at it. “Still can’t believe that they have you on a leash.”

“Price you gotta pay for freedom.” You shrug and drop the cloth. There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, both of you taking a glance back at the exhibit and the shield.

“Have you talked with Bucky recently?”

“No, I was going to ask you.” Your heart sinks at the realization. “We’ve been texting a bit but I haven’t seen him since I spent the weekend with him a couple of weeks ago.” You shyly admit and look down at your feet.

“Weekend, huh?”

“Shut it, Sam.” You knock your foot against his. “We didn’t do anything, he doesn’t like me like that. Plus, he wouldn’t even let me spend the night. I had to go to a hotel, he sleeps on the floor, Sam! I’m worried about him.” It took weeks for you to convince him to let you come over and you finally knew why when you step into his apartment. It made your heart sink, it looked like if a Hydra cell got a remodel. “He has two chairs and a tv.”

“Living modestly I see.” He snorts out, covering up whatever he was actually thinking. It’s now your turn to roll your eyes at him, frustrated that he isn’t willing to talk about this. “Hey, he’s still figuring stuff out, okay? He just got all his memories back and he’s still working on living with his past. You should know better than I do to give him time.” His tone is soft as he lightly scolds you. You hang your head at his words, knowing he’s right.

It took some time for you to come to terms with your past when you turned yourself in after Hydra and SHIELD fell. You took accountability for your actions during your years at Hydra and spent a few years in jail before Steve took action to help you get on parole. That didn’t mean you weren’t fully recovered.

“When are you joining me on the field, anyway?” Sam changes the topic noticing how you went silent and your eyes looked past him. “I could use you on some of my recon missions.” 

A large smile forms on your face at the mention of your parole. “A couple more check-ins and I’m good, I think.” You excitedly inform, “They actually want to talk to me about something, and then it’s the last three months. Saving the world made my good behavior skyrocket.”

“I’m sure it did.” He smiles, “Well, let me know what happens. I’m heading down to Louisiana soon and my sisters want to meet you. She heard about your work with the soup kitchens in New York and she wanted some insight.”

“Really? Give her my number, you know I’d be happy to talk with her. I’ve been thinking about trying to get my officer to convince the big guys to expand my tracking radar so I reach out more.” You start to ramble about the ideas you’ve been having for more community service actions. During the blip, Steve got you into volunteer work and it sparked something inside of you. He said it might give you a new purpose and he couldn’t have been more right.

The two of you spend the rest of the day together, catching up on everything that’s been going on. You didn’t realize how much you missed his snarky comments and banter until he smothered you in it, “making up for lost time”, he said. He continues the bullying by texting back and forth for the next few days.

It was nice to have a friend after everything that happened over the last few years. Steve and Nat were gone so the friendships you built up during the blip were just a memory now. Yea, Bucky and you were friends but it was a bit more complicated than that.

It’s a few weeks after that and they’ve already named some prick the new Captain America. You were frustrated at Sam but you realized that he couldn’t have known that this was going to happen. Especially since when you reached out to him and he was more furious than you were. Bucky was a whole other story. When the press conference aired, he immediately called you and went off about Sam. You couldn’t offer answers so you just told him to talk to him about it. This didn’t involve you.

Now, you were sat at some random government office in DC. You were beyond nervous, leg bouncing and fingers tapping. Kevin, your sweet parole officer, had called you in for an emergency meeting. He didn’t mention anything about the content of it but he assured you not to worry. It didn’t help, though, your mind was scrambling trying to think of anything you could’ve done to break your parole or anywhere you could’ve gone that went outside your tracking radar.

“(Y/L/N)?” The familiar voice echoes through the lobby makes your head snap up. Kevin, your knight in a cashmere sweater, stands there with his hands in his pants pockets. He nods his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

He leads you down a long hallway, stopping at the end of it and holding the door open for you. You send him a grateful smile before entering the office. It was very different from his usual office. The tall windows lined the wall from floor to ceiling, making the already large room feel even more spacious. It was a bit unsettling compared to his close-knit office space located in an old house on the outskirts of DC.

Kevin moves you two to the large conference table on the other side of the room, having you sit before he does. He takes the chair at the head of the table, sighing as he opens the folder and takes a few papers out.

“Sign these.” He slides them over to you but you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re being released.” He announces, leaning back in his chair with a tight-lipped smile on his face. Your jaw drops and your heart picks up but you can’t help but question it. You quickly compose yourself and look down at the papers.

“Isn’t it a bit too early?” You ask while briefly scanning the papers. “I still have two months left, not that I’m not grateful but where is this coming from?” This was happening too suddenly, Kevin was good with warning you about the activities that go on behind the scenes of your parole and he didn’t even mention the thought of an early release.

The brunette man lets out a sigh, running his hair through his long hair. He then leans his elbows on the table with his head propped up on his palms, he opens his mouth to answer but is cut off by the office door opening.

The new Captain America and his sidekick come waltzing in, a few of his goons following as well. He didn’t need the uniform or shield for you to recognize him since his face has been plastered on every channel since they came forward with him. He’s all everyone could talk about.

“He released you.” You barely hear Kevin as your mind goes into spirals. What the hell did this guy want? Why is he even here? What the hell did he want with you?

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

[knjsnoona]

Breathe || Part 01

Summary: A handsome gentlemen you meet by chance, introduces you to a world of endless desires.

Genre: smut || drama

Pairing: dom!Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: sexual themes || orgasm denial || alcohol consumption || mild  language || light bondage || sensory deprivation

Rating: 18+

Author’s Note: I have finally finished the first part of this series. This was something I initially started back in 2019 and never went back to until this past week. I decided to start fresh and move my account to a new blog. I’m so happy to have made all the new friends I have, that have motivated me to write! I feel so proud of this accomplishment!

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @eatjeanjin​ FOR BETA READING AND HELPING ME EDIT! I LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH! IF YOU HAVEN’T CHECKED OUT THEIR WORKS PLEASE DO!!! SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER!

A slow jazzy tune flows through the dimly lit room from the band on the stage. A few couples sit enjoying each other’s company. Businessmen sit around trying to talk to some corporate bigwig they shared a booth with into a contract. Then, there are those who simply could not sleep, with nothing better to do but go for a drink and some soothing music.

Crossing your legs with a drink in hand, you sit on a stool in the hotel’s lounge bar, eyes scanning the room. You have just gotten back from a business function that had dragged on for far too long. A function where businessmen cared more for the way your red dress hugged your form instead of the statistics you had spent the last several weeks pouring over. Their eyes glued to the skin of your leg that the slit of your dress allowed, as you explained the data you had studied. They would all nod and congratulate your boss in the end for having such a “catch” working for him, winking as if you weren’t standing next to him. It was a joke truly, there you were the best employee in your company, their money maker, and all those saggy old men could do was leer at you.

You chuckle bitterly, eyebrow twitching as you bring the glass in your hand gingerly to your lips. Sighing at the bittersweet taste of your drink, you set it down, finger tracing the rim. Staring into the crimson-orange liquid, you can’t help but think how disastrous this night turned out to be. Would you be able to look your boss in the face again, when he had not once tried to help you out in front of his superiors? He was just a spineless puppet, falling over himself to please those above him, even if it was at your own expense. You felt like an idiot sitting there in the expensive outfit your boss had told you to buy. You now wondered if he had set you up.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, you pluck the dark cherry from inside your drink and spin around in your seat to look at the stage. Bringing the cherry to your lips, you watch the quartet take a moment to refresh themselves with a drink of water before starting their next song. Chewing slowly on the tart fruit, the woman’s voice permeates the once stilted air. Her sultry voice crooning of unrequited love. 

Closing your eyes, your body sways very slightly side to side, to the rhythm of the song. You find yourself trying to relax and release the frustrations of your night. Rolling your shoulders a couple of times and taking a deep breath, you straighten your back and feel a pleasurable stretch that has you sighing out in contentment. Your temporary tranquil state is suddenly invaded by the sound of the loungers applauding the jazz singer. 

Lashes tickling your cheeks as they flutter open, your eyes suddenly meet those of a stranger. There standing before you is a man, one arm leaning against the bar as he faces you. A perfect little smile sits on his plush lips, with dimples indenting his soft cheeks. His dark almond shaped eyes set on your own, not a single sign of shame that you’ve caught him staring. Knowing he has your attention seems to increase the smile on his face, dimples burrowing even deeper into his tan skin. 

Eyebrows pinching together in confusion, you stare at the man hoping he’d say something… anything, but he continues to simply keep his gaze on you. You begin to feel anxious and uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Did you know this man? Is that why he’s approached you? Could he have possibly been at the function tonight? No, he couldn’t have been. You’re sure you would’ve remembered him, considering almost everyone in attendance were middle-aged to ancient. No, this man was not there. So who was he and what did he want?

“Can I help you?” You ask, no longer allowing your mind to run wild with theories. You watch the man’s eyes widen, almost as if in excitement, before returning to their half lidded state. He smirks, eyes glancing down, then back to yours before answering you. 

“No,” is his short reply. You narrow your eyes at him, perplexed and are set to question his audacity to stare. However, he interrupts before you have the chance. “But I can help you.”

Your eyes widen for two reasons. The first being his statement. How could he help you? You weren’t in need of any or even looking for it.The second reason for your shock was the baritone of his voice. It was so deep you hadn’t noticed in his previous negation, granted it had been just one simple word. But now, his voice somehow vibrated within you. It was as if it commanded respect and the attention of anyone able to hear, and attention he did receive from you.

“Help me?” You scoff at him mockingly. “What could possibly make you say such a bold statement?”

“Your body.”

Your mouth almost drops open at how calmly he says the two words. “Excuse me?” You ask, trying to maintain your composure. Who did this stranger think he was? As if the perverts from your company weren’t enough, here comes another jerk trying his luck. Was your luck tonight truly this bad?

His airy chuckles brought you back to the situation at hand. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m not some bar guy looking for a random hook up,” he explains. “Your body language tells me you need my help.” 

You eye him skeptically. Okay, that didn’t sound quite as sketchy but it still left a lot unsaid and unexplained. “My body language…? Right.” You continue to study him, but he didn’t waver once. Meeting his earnest gaze, you continue. “I’m sorry but this whole thing is just strange. What exactly do you want? If this is some weird way to get in my pants, it’s not working sweetheart.”

A spark in his eyes quickly comes and goes at your words. Something you said excited him, or maybe it was the way you said it. You couldn’t tell, but it had him pushing his arm off the bar’s counter and standing erect at his full height. Towering over you but never really invading your space, his eyes scan you from head to toe. His thumb and index finger rubbing at his chin and jaw while considering your hasty words. Eyes meeting yours again, he speaks with amusement clear in his eyes. “It’s bold of you to assume I’m here to score a quickie with you.” 

You scoff and look back to the stage, the singer swaying slowly in time to the song as you had been previously. You continue watching her, chewing on the inside of your lip while you contemplate why you were feeling anxious so suddenly. Your thoughts are soon interrupted by the man’s voice

“Could I have a bourbon, neat please?” he calls to the bartender who gives him a nod. He had turned from you and perched himself on the stool next to yours. Shrugging out of the dark gray suit jacket, he places it beside him and rolls the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt up to his elbows. 

And just like that he grabs your attention. You hadn’t really stopped to give him more than a once over, his aesthetics not having a chance to sink in. But now that he has your full attention, you start to take notice: polished black dress shoes, light blue dress shirt with a dark gray tie to match his suit. You couldn’t help but notice how his shirt was tucked into his pants. Pants that hug his thighs nicely and show off how long his legs are. If anything the stranger definitely knows how to dress well. Could he really be just another businessman staying in the hotel?

The bartender places the drink before the well-dressed stranger, who nods his thanks. Leaning onto the bar on one elbow, he grabs his drink and turns his head to look at you. You raise an eyebrow at him as he raises his drink to you in a toast and takes a sip. Placing his drink down, he turns his attention to you, eyes meeting yours which had already been trained on him. The corner of his lips turn up. Silence reigning between you both, nothing but the live band’s melodies drifting in the background. 

“I think you could benefit from my help.” Breaking the silence that had taken hold. He lifts his glass to his lips once more, another sip and the glass is placed back on the counter. He turns his body to face you, one arm resting on the bar and the other on his thigh. “Your body can say a lot about you. The way you’ve been tapping your foot on and off since you walked in let me know you’re frustrated. Maybe you’re angry. With the way you stormed in and threw yourself into the seat you still reside in, I can only assume something happened to upset you before you entered this place.”

You are taken by surprise that’s for sure, but you school your expression. Not trying to let on that he’s correct. From the glint in his eyes, he didn’t need you to confirm his words. You nervously grab your glass and take a sip of your drink. His words once again flowing into your ears.

“You put on makeup tonight for whatever event you must have been to. Beautiful as you may look this evening, you couldn’t fully hide the dark circles under your eyes. You’ve been having a lot of sleepless nights. Maybe because of the events leading to your social outing tonight or…” His words drift off. You look at him waiting for him to continue. He smirks and leans in closer to you. Voice lowering so that only you could hear him,” Or maybe you’ve been in need of human touch. Something a bit more erotic…”

Your eyes widen and a silent gasp escapes your throat. “H-how dare you! Listen, you perv-”

“You haven’t taken your eyes off me since I made my presence known,” he interrupts. “Although a bit standoffish, after looking me over your pupils were dilated when they connected with mine, an indication of your physical attraction to me. When I spoke, your skin took on the lightest blush, and not just from your drink there. I may be some stranger in this bar, but you haven’t once told me to leave you alone. There’s interest from you in me.” He says this all matter-of-factly in a low timber. 

Feeling his presence back off a bit, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. Trying to take even breaths, you wait a moment and collect your thoughts, and boy were they running wild. Even your heart was beating like crazy. How could he feel you out like this? And just by looking at you. He wasn’t wrong. Yes, you had found him attractive but you’d have to be blind not to. He was the picture of tall, dark and handsome. But you hadn’t envisioned anything from this encounter, hell you couldn’t understand why you were entertaining him. You hadn’t even realized how warm you had become until now, how you try to squeeze your crossed thighs together as discreetly as possible. The way he spoke—so intelligently—was strangely igniting something in you. But you’d be damned if you gave in to some spur of the moment primal instinct.

Biting the inside of your lip, you slowly turn to meet the man’s gaze. His face looks the same as it did previously, calm and inviting. Small smile on those plush lips. The only minor difference now is that he is a lot closer to you. Just a few inches separate you, nothing too invasive that he is completely in your space, but it was close enough to give off the vibe of needing privacy. 

“You’re pretty shameless to be assuming things about me like this”, you attempt to sound offended, but your voice trembles for a moment. You hope he hasn’t caught on even if you knew he would. He is too sharp with his inspection as evidenced by how he described his observation of you since he saw you that night. You’re a fool for trying in the first place, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to be any other way.

Lips spread open, showing a row of perfect white teeth as he finds humor in your words. Shaking his head as he chuckles, he looks back down at you and questions, “Shameless?”

“Shameless...,” he leans in and continues with whispers in your ear, “is sitting here getting wet over a man whose name you don’t even know. Shameless is playing the part of the insulted woman with me, but is looking at me with pupils so dilated they’ve almost taken over her iris.” The way he whispers in your ear in such a guttural way has your breath speeding up and your heart almost stopping. 

“Now, if I were shameless, I’d tell you how I could make you cum without setting a single finger on you.” While he continued, you can feel the tips of his fingers skim over the exposed skin of your leg. “I would tell you how I could make you burst with just my tongue. In fact, even just one of my fingers should be enough to release all the tension in this pretty body of yours.”

You involuntarily shudder at his words. Somehow all of your nerves were on fire. Every. Last. One. They were just words, but the way he speaks them with such confidence, as if they were facts, have you on the verge of doing something out of the norm. Trying to regain some semblance of control over your breathing, you avoid looking him in the eyes. Big mistake. While your eyes were trying to escape his, they ended up stumbling upon his lips. His pink, pillowy lips lay slightly parted on his face. The pink muscle behind them sliding out to moisten them ever so slowly, making them look even more enticing. The corner of his lip pulling up, one dimple making its appearance above his strong jaw. Is there a part of him that wouldn’t draw your attention? 

He pulls back suddenly, your eyes still glued to his mouth. You watch him slowly take a sip, his eyes looking at you over the rim of the glass. Your attention is completely ensnared by this stranger. He was right, you were shameless. The way you watch him with such primal desire behind your eyes is shocking to you. You hadn’t felt this riled up by anyone in a long time. But here he is, a man you’d met not even fifteen minutes prior and your mind was a battlefield of pride and lust.

He sets his empty glass aside, eyes trained on it for a moment as if in thought. Long fingers tapping on the bar, appearing to be getting his next words together. “Do you see it now? That I am capable of  releasing all the tension you’re holding onto?”

The question catches you off guard. His voice is steady, his expression not betraying his words. It’s as if nothing had ever happened. As if those lust filled words hadn’t even left his lips. You sit studying his profile for another moment. It’s as if he was offering you some kind of service the way he speaks, like he’s selling something to you. No… he couldn’t be… could he? 

“Are you some kind of gigolo?”

His eyes turn to you in surprise right before they’re filled with mirth, an honest laugh escaping his lips. Quieting down, he shakes his head and answers with a simple, “No, I’m not.” You could see him trying to hold back another smile.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “Then what are you? What do you do? The way you talk it’s almost as if you’re trying to make me buy something from you. So what do you want?”

His next words are spoken slowly, making sure you understand what he’s saying.”I specialize in teaching patience. I help those who just rush through everything in life, learn how to take a moment…” his hand slowly reaches out, a single finger running from your knee until it meets the end of the slit of your dress on top of your thigh as he continues to speak, ‘…and enjoy the journey to the destination.” 

While returning his hand to his side, he lets it slide back down your leg, goosebumps raising wherever it touches. He sits back, looking at you with his dark gaze for a moment before reaching a hand into his jacket. “I’m not the kind of man to force myself on a woman. Or anyone for that matter. I can only offer my assistance.” He pulls his hand back out and places a business card on the bar. His fingers tapping it twice before sliding it over to you. “When you feel like I can meet your needs, shoot me a text or call me, whichever is convenient for you.” 

You wait a moment before gently picking the card up. Flipping over the black card, your eyes looking over the words printed in white. The first line reads ‘Kim Namjoon’, under that was just a phone number. You look at both sides of the card again and find nothing else. This didn’t really help much at all. Who was this enigmatic man? 

Shuffling catches your attention as you see him drop a few bills on the bar to pay for his drink. Leaning over, he grabs his jacket and stands, sliding his arms into the sleeves. He straightens his tie, face turning to glance at you. “I hope you decide to contact me. I’d love to dig my hands into all of your… stress.” He sends you one last smile as he turns and walks away. You watch him disappear into the sea of tables near the stage. 

Eyes looking back at the card in your hand. You want to rip it up, and throw it away but something stops you. What? You aren’t sure. So instead you place the card in your clutch, also content with the fact that he was gone as you did. Sensible thoughts are once again settling in and your breathing returns to normal too. Whatever had taken place didn’t matter. You would never meet the man again in this lifetime. It was time for you to enjoy the last bit of your drink and head up to bed.

It was while you’re finishing the drink that another body settles into the stool previously occupied by the handsome stranger. Eyes wandering to the new arrival, you’re met with a pair of large doe eyes. You silently nod at him and turn back to your empty glass, signaling the bartender. You are about to ask for your tab when the newcomer speaks. 

“I’ll buy your next drink.” A sheepish smile on his face. 

You gaze at him curiously, taking in his youthful appearance. He had Bambi-like eyes, and his nose was a bit large but seemed to fit him well. His bottom lip was fuller than his top one and when he smiled again, you could see his pearly whites. You didn’t know why, but when he smiled like that, he reminded you of a bunny. 

“Is that okay?” He wonders, fingers lightly fidgeting.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry. I was actually just about to leave.” You smile apologetically at him. You could see the look of disappointment cross over his face. 

“Oh, of course. I-I’m sorry. Go figure, huh?” Nervously scratching the back of his head, he anxiously laughs. “And when I finally worked up the courage.” Realizing he said the last part out loud, he ducks his head sheepishly and a blush tints his cheeks. 

Taking him in curiously, the corners of your lips quirk up. Smiling at the sweet young man, his shyness a breath of fresh air after the night you’ve had. You tilt your head to look at him as he tries to avoid looking over at you, his peripherals eventually betray him.

You laugh quietly to yourself, endeared by his mannerism. He seemed sweet enough, especially compared to all the company you’ve kept tonight. Maybe you should entertain him. Appraising him once more, you make up your mind. 

“Okay. I’ll have one last drink,” making sure to place emphasis on ‘last’.

His eyes dart to you and you see an immediate glimmer in them. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He almost seems to think he’s imagining your change of heart, almost worried to scare you away.

Smiling, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Well? Are you going to buy me that drink…?” You drift off at the end, hoping he can fill it with his name.

“Jungkook,” he answers quickly, eyes sparkling at you. You smile at him and tilt your head, eyes shuffling towards the bartender helps him break out of whatever little trance he’d entered. “Oh! Right uh, I’d like Tequila Sunrise and a drink for the lady. The same you were having before okay?” Looking over at you questioningly, you nod in reply. He nods at the bartender and watches him walk off to fulfill their orders.

You sit there quietly for a moment, Jungkook looking at you and then shyly looking away again and staring down at the counter of the bar. As he does, you take him in. He had a young and sweet face, but now that he’s turned away from you, his sharp jaw catches your eyes. An interesting addition to his face for sure. He’s dressed in a black suit, undershirt and tie matching the dark aesthetic. The dark suit does nothing to hide the muscles that make up his legs, more importantly his thighs. His locks are a dark chestnut shade that are parted to one side. He is very handsome, you could acknowledge that.

“So…” At your one word his attention is immediately drawn back to you. You smile at him softly, “What brings you here tonight?” You ask him kindly.

You see him chew on his lip, mulling over your question for a moment. “Company trip. We had a couple of meetings in town today. And it seems I wasn’t the only one,” he muses as he looks around the lounge, coming to the same conclusion you had before. “A-and you?” Turning back to you.

You choose to ignore his stutter, as to not make him feel self conscious. “I’m here for a company function. My company usually hosts events here.” You simply explain, readjusting yourself in the seat and recrossing your legs. Your hands smooth the dress down. Flicking your hair behind your shoulder you look back up at him. 

His eyes quickly look away, as he coughs into his fist, as if clearing his throat. The apples of his cheeks taking a light pink tinge. Chest swelling as he takes a deep breath as if to calm himself and releases it slowly. “You must work for a profitable company,” he finally says a little hoarsely.

He truly was a charming man. You couldn’t help but smile, his anxiousness making you want to see him fidget. Maybe it was just to stroke your ego, having him trip over himself around you. Or maybe it’s because it was the one time you finally felt in control tonight. Something you enjoyed having in all aspects of your life, something that also weighed on you but you always chose to ignore. 

“I guess you could say it is”, you finally answer just as the bartender returns with your drinks. You both thank him, and you watch as Jungkook takes a hardy sip of his own. Lips parting to reveal a toothy grin as you tease him, “Thirsty are we?”

He swallows loudly, as he turns to look at you. Tongue quickly darting to lick his lips, as he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “I, um, yes. Parched,” he chuckles nervously. His fidgeting hands rub over his thighs, you assume it as a nervous habit but also to wipe any sweat that has accumulated over them. 

“You’re adorable,” you say quietly. 

He catches the words and blinks at you. A small blush painting his cheeks as a small smile appears on his lips. “I’m not…” He tries to counter.

“You are,” smiling as you bite your lip. If it had been any other night—actually if you were anyone else—maybe you would have tried to entice him into your company, and judging by his behavior you clearly didn't need to do much enticing at all. But you had been drained from the events that had taken place and you simply weren’t the type. Such a waste too. 

Damn, maybe that Namjoon fellow was right, you did need some physical contact. You’re standing here imagining what the young man before you would look like out of his suit. How the muscles on his legs would look like as he- 

And that’s enough of that. You really need to get to bed now. 

Picking your drink up, you drink it all in one go. Setting it down with a satisfied sigh, you turn to see Jungkook staring at you wide-eyed. And suddenly you feel guilty for wanting to leave his company. It was short lived but you couldn’t stay any longer. Your mind was a tangled mess and you needed time to recuperate. 

You smile at him apologetically, “I’m sorry, I really have to go. It’s been a long day, and these shoes haven’t exactly been kind.” You slide out of your seat, picking up your clutch. Your feet really do start to pinch in pain as your weight is now placed back on them. “Thank you so much for the drink. You were a very welcome company.”

His large eyes stare at you, eyebrows pinched in disappointment. He suddenly stands up in a rush. “Wait! I didn’t get your name… or uh” He seems to struggle with trying to find the right words.

You smile up at him, yes up. He was incredibly tall. And now that he was standing, you could take in how impressive his frame was. If his legs were any indication, you were sure the rest of him was sure to match. You groan internally, such a damn waste. 

As he stands there trying to figure out what to say next, you step in close. Leaning up on your toes, you whisper your name in his ear and place a soft kiss on his cheek before you pull away. “It was very nice meeting you tonight, Jungkook.” You give him one last smile as you walk away. 

Looking once over your shoulder as you’re about to exit the lounge, you see him drop back into his seat in defeat. You felt bad but knew this was not the time or the place for you to even entertain those ideas. Definitely not with some you had just met. You sigh as you press the button for the elevator, ”If only.”

Back in your suite, you sigh for a much different reason as you soak in the warm water of the large tub. The function may have been a bust but this was so worth it. If anything today was worth the crap you went through it’s this delightful bath you were now in. Maybe the cute young man that you had met as well. 

An image of the dimpled man crosses your mind but you refuse to waste any thoughts on him. He wasn’t about to try to live rent free in your thoughts. Not when you were trying to relax and the thought of him and the way he sounded made your body shiver. The way his intense eyes made you feel so small and the barely there traces of his touch on your leg had the pit of your stomach in knots. No. This was a time for relaxation. Your chance to release the tension built up in your body.

“In fact, even just one of my fingers should be enough to release all the tension in this pretty body of yours.”

You groan in frustration. Fuck. Why did he have to say that? You knock your head back into the edge of the tub behind you, trying to dislodge any thoughts of the shameless stranger. Shameless… and alluring. 

“No, no, no”, you chant to yourself as you shake your head. “Nope, I am going to relax in this hot bath. That is all. Now deep breath in….” You take a deep breath through your nose and slowly exhale through your mouth, “... and all the bs out.” You mutter before fully submerging underwater to empty your head of any thoughts. The feeling of weightlessness is welcoming. But even in the muffled silence of the water, you can hear his words echo. Shooting up, you decide you’re done with this bath. Clearly it isn’t as relaxing as you had hoped. 

Flicking through the channels, you find there is nothing interesting on. Well there is… but it’s late at night. With each channel you land on, there’s nothing but some kind of romance film. Not just any romance films, but the kind that were full of sexual tension between the two lead actors. The kind that could get all the right reactions from the viewer. They were literally the sister of softcore porn, and it was not helping your situation at all. 

Sighing you turn the TV off and you toss the remote onto the night stand beside you. Rubbing your hands down your face in frustration, you decide maybe now was the best time to get some sleep. Leaning over you flick the lamp by your side off and pull at the blanket as you shuffle into a comfortable position. 

Closing your eyes, you try to just bask in the silence of the night settling in around you. The darkness on the other side of your lids assists to lull you into sleep slowly. 

It’s in that half sleep-half awake in between when you can’t fully control your thoughts, that he once again makes an appearance. Walking slowly towards you, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, sleeves rolled up, and half the buttons of his shirt undone—smooth, tan skin on full display for your hungry eyes to drink up. Dark hooded eyes devouring you hungrily, a warning of what was to come once he got his hands on you.

You can feel a heat surrounding you as he finally invades your space, your heart beating a mile a minute. You swallow hard at the barely there touch of his finger running up your arm, his all encompassing presence making your hair stand, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. 

“Were you waiting for me?” The deep timbre of his voice makes the pit of your stomach contract. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts, eyes trained on his shoulder. Your eyes soon jerk  up to meet his own as a finger lifts your chin, an inquisitive yet demanding gaze searching your face. “I asked you a question, and I do expect an answer from those pretty lips.”

You clench your jaw, steeling yourself to answer his demanding question. “Yes”, is all that escapes you in a whisper. And you know it’s what he wanted to hear when his eyes flash with gratification. The finger on your chin sliding ever so lightly down the length of your chin down between the valley of your breasts, and finally coming to a stop between your legs—not quite touching you, just a ghost of a touch. All the while his eyes never left yours, watching them for any reaction.

“What exactly were you waiting for me for?” He tilts his head in mock curiosity as the digit slides softly between your panty clad folds, making your shiver. The corner of his luscious lips perk at the beginning of a smirk. 

You clench your jaw again. You knew what you were craving, what you had wanted when he spoke to you down in the lounge. His salacious promises left those delicious lips, eyes full of power and lust staring you down, making you fully aware that they weren’t just empty words. 

He raises his eyebrows at your lack of response. Your eyes are zooming into his sharp jawline as he clenches it. You were so distracted that you’re taken completely by surprise when he sharply smacks your mound, a squeal leaving your lips. “I think you forgot that I expect answers. The first time I remind you is a courtesy, any reminders after that… I will punish you.”

Your eyes stare up at him wide eyed, heart beating quickly as you feel the second smack and shoot up in your bed. A bead of sweat trails down your neck, as your eyes take in your surroundings. Noticing your hotel room, and the obvious lack of presence, you close your eyes in relief. Hands shaking as you rake them through your hair. What the hell was that? It felt so real. It felt as if he truly had been in front of you, all the sensations you had felt earlier that night returning twice as strong. Even his touch felt real. You had been so affected that your brain decided to store every sound, touch and scent, just to torture you.

You shake your head, this was ridiculous. Some complete stranger had you fantasizing like a horny high schooler. Annoyed as you are, you can’t help but replay the fantasy once more, biting your lips at the things he said and the way he teased you. You groan as your core clenches in need. You needed to stop and reassess the situation. You needed to get him out of your head. But then your traitorous thoughts remind you of the little black card, the one with his name and his contact number. He was only one text away.

“No, absolutely not.” You think to yourself as your body is sliding out of bed and even as you find yourself walking over to the kitchenette counter to grab your clutch. “That would be a preposterous thing to do”, you continue to think as you pull the little card out. In contrast to your thoughts, you are now walking back to grab your phone from the night stand with the card in hand. 

“You would never call for him. ”Your thoughts are contradicting your actions, as you type out the number of your room and send it to him. 

The sent notification suddenly catches your attention; bringing you to a realization of what you had just done. Looking down you stare in shock, “Well fuck.”

You pace in the space in front of the door. How could you have done that? What the hell was wrong with you? You cursed your horny subconscious over and over for the last five minutes, heart hammering as your nerves went haywire. 

After sending the text you talked yourself into believing he wouldn’t reply, that it was a fake number, or that he wouldn’t even know what the cryptic hotel room number would mean. But that hopeful bubble was promptly popped a few seconds after by his response; a simple “Be there in five”.

Well it’s been five minutes and he still wasn’t here. Maybe it was all an elaborate joke, maybe someone had set you up. If that’s true then they better hope you never find out who they are. Your pride would not take being humiliated like this. 

Just as you're starting to work yourself up, a knock echoes through the room bringing all thoughts and movement from you to a complete halt. You listen tensely in case you might have mistaken it, but it was not long before another resounds parroting the first. You stand staring at the door, contemplating your options. That’s right, you have options. You could just tell him it was an accident, that it was meant for someone else… right?

Taking a deep breath your hand reaches for the handle. Heart hammering in your chest, you unlock the door and slowly pull it open. There he is standing in all of his glory; the very man keeping you from sleep that evening had his almond shaped eyes staring you down. He looked just as good as he had at the bar. You noticed he had arrived without his jacket, looking every bit as he had in your fantasy. His tie lay undone around his neck with the top three buttons of his shirt popped open. The golden skin underneath was calling to you, keeping your attention on him. All thoughts of denying this encounter immediately dissipate.

“A pleasure to see you as well,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your appraising thoughts. He tilts his head to the side, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks, and smirks. 

You can see amusement painted in his eyes. You continue gazing at him, awkward silence settling into the hotel hallway. 

“Are you going to invite me in or…” His eyebrow quirks at you, deep voice trailing off.

Jumping in surprise, you remember why he was here. It’s while pushing the door open wider to let him in, that your nerves decide to resurface in full force. Your heart is thumping as he walks by you, and even more when his arm brushes yours. You look around the hallway before slinking back inside. When you’re locking the door the sudden urge to vomit makes its presence known. You swallow the saliva that suddenly floods your mouth, hesitantly turning you keep your eyes to the ground. His black shoes are the only thing you can see and they were pointing right at you.

Why were you this unsettled? Something about this man’s presence just knocked you off kilter. It unhinged you. But the bit of pride you had left flared up. Jutting your chin out in defiance, you lifted your eyes to face him with all the confidence you could muster up. 

You froze, his eyes were appraising you—starting from your legs, his gaze was sweeping up your body until they landed on yours. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip before biting it. Those infuriating dimples make a comeback when he gives you an open mouth smile. 

You see him take a step forward and you immediately freeze like a deer in the headlights, unsure of what his next move would be. Deciding to try and maintain some control, you speak, filling the silence. “Would you like a drink? There’s probably alcohol in here somewhere. Ah, actually there isn’t. I just remembered this hotel doesn’t supply the rooms with it…” Silence once more reigning the two of you. Another thought comes to mind. “But I’m sure there’s tea. I can make you a cup if you’d like.”

 “No, thank you.”

You nod, standing there with your hands clutching the hem of the long t-shirt you wore— eyes looking anywhere but him. God, why did he have to look identical to the way he did in your fantasy? Shit, maybe it had actually been a premonition. That was a scary thought, but not as scary as the man that currently stood before you. Well, he wasn’t scary per se; it was the “unknown” that terrified you more. The “unknown” being your attraction to him, the unexplainable magnetic pull he had over you.

Swallowing hard as you feel awkward just standing here, you decide to go with your previous plan. “I’m sorry,” you begin in a whisper before clearing your throat and speaking louder. “This was a mistake. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to send you that text.” You manage to finally say, as you meekly look up at him. 

His eyes are full of amusement, a small smile still on his lips. He takes another moment before speaking and shocking you once more. “Oh? Was it meant for the boy you met?” His smile transforms into a knowing smirk.

“What?”, you stupidly ask. You didn’t know what you were expecting for him to say but it wasn’t that. Breaking out of your surprise, you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, it was.” You swallow, deciding to go with it. At that he chuckles softly, shoulders shaking slightly. You quietly huff before asking, “Why are you laughing?”

“My apologies.” He shoots you a smile, as his amusement dies down. “I didn’t mean to do so out loud, but I found it too funny how you just tried to lie.”

“Lie? How bold-”

“Not bold. And don’t try to bluff. I think you forgot, I’m an observant man,” he quickly cuts you off, slowly making his way to you. “You couldn’t even hold my gaze as you said it. The moment you said ‘yes’, your eyes shifted away for half a second. That is usually a sign of deception, did you know that? Everyone has a tell when they lie.” He explains nonchalantly while he stops before you, a finger moving to place a lock of hair behind your ear. 

Leaning down, you feel his breath on the shell of your ear. “Besides… you didn't even exchange numbers.” His voice pervades your body through your ear, warming your body.

He had been watching you, you realize. After he’d left you, he had watched your exchange with the youngman, Jungkook. You weren’t sure if you should be terrified at this feeling of being stalked. Or if you should feel excitement at the fact that he couldn’t keep his attention off of you. 

“It’s interesting to me.” He takes a step forward, forcing you to take one back to try to keep whatever minimal space there is between you. 

“What’s interesting?” You question, eyes never leaving his shoulder as you continue to refuse to look at him.

“The fact that you didn’t leave with him.” Another step forward, and another one back for you.

“Why would I leave with him?” You swallow as the heat of his form somehow engulfs you without him touching you.

“You were clearly still aroused from our little meeting.” He takes another step, continuing your little dance. “And he was clearly very eager.”

“I don’t-” your voice catches as your throat suddenly feels dry. The way he has invaded your space has you losing any train of thought. The scent of him scrambles your words. You swallow to try and moisten your drying throat just enough to speak. “I don’t hook up with men I meet in bars.”

“Oh?” He speaks so closely now that it feels as if his voice is vibrating throughout your form. “Then what am I doing here?”

You don’t know yourself. This wasn’t you. You liked for things to be neat and in order. Your friends and family called you a control freak, something you could never deny because it was something you enjoyed. But somehow you could not control your thoughts when this man was around. With one look from those dark eyes, he could easily make you relinquish your tightly held reigns—make you go against the very nature of yourself.

“Curiosity.” 

As the back of your knees hit something solid, your eyes slowly slide up to the side of his face. Pulling his head back, you see him glance down his nose at you. “Curiosity that you sparked with promises. I want to know if what you said was true.” Your quiet voice trapped between you both.

His eyes were narrowing as he watched you, studying your face for something you’re unsure of. A tingling sensation begins to make its way up both of your arms. It takes you a moment to realize it’s his hands. Large hands tracing the curves of your waist and hips soon after, making you shiver, never breaking eye contact. “Lay down.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion filling you. He tilts his chin behind you. You turn to find that he has backed you up to the bed. Turning back you meet his gaze, unchanging and waiting for you to follow as he instructed. “What are you going to do?”

He doesn’t respond at first, barely moving except to once more place his hands in his pockets. “I’ve learned a few things about you tonight. The first being, you don’t follow instructions well.”

You quietly scoff at his words that are making you feel like a child. And just like a child, you cross your arms just below your chest. 

His eyes follow your movements, one hand sliding the grey tie off his shoulders. “Uncross your arms and lay down. I’ll be teaching you some patience tonight, along with how to follow directions. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You stay still for a moment longer with your stubbornness fighting for control. Finally, you allow yourself to lose the battle against his quiet, demanding gaze. Slowly, ever so slowly, your arms fall to your sides. Your eyes finally leave his to look around as you sit and scoot back on the bed to lay down. Your heart makes its presence known again while you stare at the plain ceiling of the hotel room. The fingers of your right hand are playing with the hem of your shirt, tugging at a loose string. 

You feel the bed dip before his form fills your vision. Broad shoulders, tan skin only inches from your face as his scalding hot hands wrap around your wrists. He tugs them and places them above your head. You feel something soft wrapping around your wrists. Then, you feel him tie them together. The sensation makes you swing your gaze up to visually confirm what you were feeling: your hands are now tied together with the grey tie that was around his neck earlier. 

You blink before looking up at him bewildered, “What kind of Fifty Shades reenactment is-”

“Don’t speak or I’ll use your panties as a gag.”

The threat has you quickly shutting your mouth and your thighs squeeze together. The commanding tone in his voice does things to you. Unsure of what had you gotten yourself into but anticipation building at where it was heading; you could feel yourself beginning to ruin your underwear.

He leans back on his knees, one placed on either side of your hips. He slips his phone out of his pocket, thumb quickly tapping over the screen. “Before we go any further, I need to know I have your consent. I would prefer a written agreement, but considering the circumstances verbal works as well. I’m currently recording this conversation. The recording will end the moment you give me your answer.”

You didn’t expect this, and you felt some form of respect and appreciation for his thoughtfulness. He was giving you an out and was providing you time to decide whether you wanted to continue this, whatever it was. And as you mull it over, you realize that against all the reservations you may have—even as the voice inside your head tells you not to give in—you find yourself saying:

“Yes, I consent.”

He nods once, tapping on his phone before placing it in his pocket once more and glancing down at you. “From here on out you will only do as I say. Do you understand? Nod if you do.” 

He watches you and waits for you to nod. A smile appears on his face upon your agreement. “Not so hard, is it?” 

Your feet fidget as you lay there feeling the seconds tick by. Not a single word uttered from either one of you. All you can do is wait. After a couple of minutes, he breaks the silence.

“Do you hear that...the silence? I need you to take that in, the stillness around you.”

Your eyebrows furrow a bit in confusion, but you comply by trying to find a way to settle into the quiet darkness surrounding you. Doing so proved hard, though. You could only drift back to the man looming over you.

Feeling you are trying to shuffle inconspicuously, he places his hand on your sternum and halts all movements from you. “You need to focus. You need to let whatever’s on your mind melt away. If you need an anchor,” his other hand grabbing your bound hands and placing one on his chest, “then use me. Feel the beat of my heart and focus on your breathing. That’s all I want you to do for me.”

Your cheeks warm as a gentle beat thumps beneath your palm, each pulse introducing warmth into your skin. His words have a different effect than intended on you, or maybe they are as intended. Warmth spreads from your hand and radiates down your arm then to the rest of your body from the contact. The warmth also causes your breath to pick up.

Noticing the change in pace, his hand presses down lightly against your chest. “You need to breathe, control each inhalation and exhalation. Take deep breaths in through your nose, and slowly out through your mouth.” He demonstrates for you while he explains. Your hand follows the movement of his chest as it expands and deflates. “Match my rhythm. Try to sync your breaths to my own. And above all else, keep eye contact with me. Understood?”

Your eyes snap from his chest to his dark, hooded orbs. A new shiver runs through you as something begins to simmer below the surface of your skin. Taking a deep breath, you try to figure out what he’s playing at but you finally decide to just throw all caution to the wind. You had already invited him to your room and have given him consent. You didn’t doubt he’d stop at any given moment if you decided to rescind it. But you didn’t want to. And where did that leave you other than to continue forward. Exhaling the breath you were holding, you nod.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

Eyes connected to his, you begin trying to match each of his breaths even if you were finding difficulty in doing so at first. His breaths were too deep and long, and it was hard to make yours the same. But slowly the more time you spend on it, the easier it becomes for your lungs to expand and contract insync with his. 

The beat of his heart creates a set tempo, almost like a metronome. The thumping lulls you into a serene state. Your body tingles all over almost as if wanting to be freed of the skin encompassing it. Each breath you take makes something come alive in you, or maybe it has always been there—a yearning for something that is missing. The eye contact makes you feel incredibly exposed, ushering a sense of intimacy; an intimacy so strong it feels as if it both drowns you and renews life back in you.

All at once, something changes. You can feel all the heat emanating from your company perched on you, shooting from his palm into your torso. But it isn't just any regular heat. This is scorching you, even through your clothes. The elevating temperatures are only countered by the coolness of the sheets beneath you, causing you to shiver with goosebumps spreading over your skin. You could somehow both tangibly feel how still the air was and the energy charging it. 

All of your nerves seem to be working over time, as you experienced things you couldn’t ever remember previously. Your skin is like a blackhole—absorbing any and all things that touch it. All sensations amplified by ten. 

All these titillating sensations bring awareness to how wet you’ve become. Your panties are now sticking to your nether lips, thighs twitching momentarily as the fire raging in your core hits you hard. 

Unable to hold back, your back arches in the small space between you, a soft moan leaving your lips all while holding his ever darkening gaze. His tongue darts to lick his lip from your periphery. 

Removing his hand from your breastbone, he hovers it over one of your soft, shirt clad mounds.. One digit lightly caresses a pebbled nipple, making your breath hitch momentarily. He stops his movements, allowing you to refocus your breathing before pressing his finger down. His slim finger trails around the hardened bud, making the flesh of your breast break out in goose pimples. 

Every touch felt so exponential. The feeling immediately travels between your thighs. It was ridiculous how your body was overreacting to every touch. His singular digit keeps on circling and pushing down your nipple, enough to build an orgasm in the pit of your stomach. A light sheen of sweat covering your skin. Swallowing hard, you try to keep up with the tempo of his breaths. Your thighs press together—wanting, needing relief. If you were actually honest, you were about to orgasm.

Feeling the movement beneath him, he pulls his hand from you and almost drags a whine from your lips as he does. Swinging his leg, he removes himself from his place above you. Scalding hands grip your thighs, parting them to make space for him to sit. Gently he lays your legs over his, opening you to him. 

He finally breaks the shared gaze, eyes inspecting the site at the apex of your thighs. “How close were you?” 

The question catches you off guard. Closing your eyes you try to wade through your muddled brain for the words to answer. You realize you’ve taken too long, when he squeezes your thigh for an answer. “I-I almost…” You breathlessly try to answer, opening your eyes.

“You almost came?” He asks, no shame in his word or on his face as he lifts his face to look at you. 

You can only nod in response, which he reciprocates. “When you’re about to reach that point, tell me.” 

You feebly nod in affirmation.

His scorching hands are resting on your naked thighs, slowly running up and down them. He adds a bit of pressure while massaging the soft skin. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your walls squeeze down on nothing. Even this simple act was so sensual and orgasm inducing. What you had felt before is now coming back as if it had never left in the first place. The coiling in your abdomen becomes apparent as his pads press down circles on the inside of your thighs, breath hitching as a breathy moan escapes. 

Each addition of pressure from his slim fingers spikes your arousal. Pads of his fingers press into the meat of your thighs, alternating them with soft caresses over the skin; pushing all the right buttons. It was almost the greatest form of torture. The blazing lines he’d write into your skin so blistering they felt icy hot. 

Your thighs quaked in his hands, toes curling into the sheets. You were so close again, so damn close to your release that you almost didn’t have time to tell him. But still you part your lips in an attempt to let him know.

“I-I…”

“Are you close again?”

You nod and he pulls his hands away again. Your eyes shoot open, immediately seeking him out. You find his orbs surveying you, hands resting between his parted thighs.You know he can clearly see the confusion and want, desperately placed on display for him, legs trembling where they rested over his. You were so close to your release. 

“Breathe.”

You exhale, only now realizing you’d been holding your breath in anticipation. 

“Don’t forget to breathe. Go on.” He blinks, waiting expectantly.

You close your eyes for a moment, before returning them to him. Taking deep breaths in through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth, you are now easily falling back into the flow. Each breath invites ardor into every nerve. Not a single part of you is unaffected at this point. 

Brows pinch, as you feel the back of his hand skim through your core. The wet fabric of your panties almost irritates your skin. His ministrations continue leisurely for a moment before he presses on your hooded bundle. He starts with circular motions and soon interchanges it with strokes so light, it’s almost as if he’s not touching you. 

This repetitive routine he seemed to take pleasure in, of denying you release, almost makes you cry. Tears begin to blur your vision and your body trembles. You feel like a tightly wound up coil, ready to spring at any given moment. Unfortunately, you can’t as he stops once more. Tear-filled eyes meet his pleadingly. He was the key to your release, your body knew this. 

While biting his lip, his hand finally returns to your core. This time he massages your mound, squeezing your lips together while sliding his fingers along the length of them. Pressure on either side of your clit slides away, only to return a moment later. He releases his hold on your folds again, laying a digit on either side, palm laying on your pubic bone. The heat seeps through your abdomen, heating your core from both in and out of your body. 

He slides his hand down, fingers trailing the outer edges of your folds where they meet your thighs: the very edge where your ruined panties also lie. Gliding his hand back up, his fingers touch the side of your lower lips from beneath your underwear. The touch is so small and so quick, but they were enough to fan the flames of your orgasm even worse. It was the closest he’d come to touching you without any obstruction, making you let out a soft moan. 

His eyes darken while his chest expanded a bit quicker, matching your quickening breaths. You feel the pressure increase as the bottom of his palm presses roughly into your bundle of nerves.

Your fingers clutch at the bed sheets above your head. Your eyes almost closing at the overwhelming sensation but you continue to hold his stare. Tears run down the sides of your face. You are unable to contain them any longer at the sensual torture being inflicted on you. 

And then you hear it, a soft guttural groan fills the air. The sound makes you clench so fiercely. Fuck, it was the most sensual thing you’d ever heard. 

You couldn’t do this anymore.

“P-please…” you beg, barely above a whisper. 

He studies you but he doesn't stop with his actions. He interchanges from flicking you softly to grinding on you with a single digit. His eyes trail down, taking in your trembling, sweat drenched form. Your shirt is clinging to your breasts that are softly bouncing with each hasty breath. Switching the position of his fingers, he curls them and places one on either side of your bud. Pressing them together he traps your sensitive clit, and begins to knead and tug it.

“Cum.”

With his guttural words, it’s as if a switch flipped inside of you. The first wave hits you hard and leaves you speechless, body jerking in pleasure. It’s when the second hits that your ability to speak returns. Moan after moan rolling out of your mouth as the second orgasm makes its way through you.

By the time your third orgasm rides in on the tail of your second, you realize your hearing had left you when you first came. Because all at once you can hear your cries filling the room, his assurances filling your ears. Your eyes shut tight as tears roll down the sides of your face, back arching off the bed, and toes curling painfully. Your fingers are gripping the sheets so tightly you can no longer feel them.

After what feels like a lifetime, all strength leaves your body as it lays limp. The only sounds audible at this time are coming from you trying to catch your breath. The lusty haze slowly lifts from your fucked out mind. Eyes fluttering open, taking in your surroundings. Somehow it all looks different even though it isn’t—your senses are still in overdrive. 

Your orbs land on him, still sitting on his knees between your legs. Hands no longer touching you, as he simply observes you. 

After a beat, he shuffles back slowly, setting his feet on the ground. He takes a moment to adjust his slacks, smoothing any wrinkles in them and his dress shirt. Tucking one hand in his pocket, he walks around the bed to stand by your side. Taking a seat, he shuffles some of your hair away from your face. “How do you feel?”

You try to answer but find yourself unable to. Still a mess with jelly-like limbs and mush for brains. 

He smiles, ”Do you feel relaxed?”

It takes a moment and a lot of willpower, but you manage to give him a nod. He answers with another smile and nods while standing. He makes his way into the bathroom, returning shortly with a wet hand towel. Leaning over you, he wipes off your sweat. 

Carefully, he pulls your underwear to mid-thigh, halting a moment. You watch as he dips a finger between your folds, collecting your juice on one long, slim finger—making you jerk away at the oversensitivity. Bringing it up to his lips as he slowly and lasciviously licks it before popping it in his mouth. Eyes closing as a deep hum rumbles in his chest. 

“You taste divine.”

His words make you whimper. It was impossible. It was impossible to be so damn desirable like this. Impossible for every word that left his lips to be so goddamn sinful and yet send you to heaven. You had entered a dangerous game in which only you would lose. You just didn’t know what you would be losing.

You jolt, feeling him wipe you clean. The fibers in the towel rub against your sensitive bud, making you try to pull away. But your body was too tired and heavy.

He chuckles as he finishes and pulls your ruined underwear back into place. “Relax, that’s all the fun for tonight.” Disposing the hand towel, he releases your wrists, placing the tie around his neck. Leaning over, he picks you up gently and tucks you under the sheets.

You feel his eyes roam over you, assuming he was making sure you were comfortable enough. But beyond that you can guess nothing else as you fall into darkness, the sound of a door shutting was the last thing you hear as you give into the world of sleep.

Ringing. A loud ringing stirs you from your sleep. 

Eyes lazily open, squinting at the bright morning light filtering in through the blinds on the windows. You reach for the hotel phone, as the ringing begins to grate on you, and bring it to your ear. 

“Hello?” Your voice sounds a bit horse to your ears.

“Good morning, miss. This is your morning wake up call you scheduled,” the kind voice replies from the other end.

Wiping a hand down your face, you open your eyes to look at the digital clock by the night stand. Quietly groaning to yourself you thank the concierge and hang up. Flopping back onto the bed, you stretch your limbs, releasing one last yawn. Your whole body relaxes as you bask in the warm morning glow filtering into the hotel room. You feel so oddly at peace. All the heaviness and exhaustion you’d been feeling for the last few weeks seeming to have just disappeared. Maybe you should get one of these mattresses for your place.

As you sit up, a small memory returns to you. It was an erotic dream feauring Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. You sigh ashamed of your subconsciousness. You could feel your underwear semi damp against you, making you shiver with discomfort. Damn, it had to be a good dream to have had you soaking wet like this. 

Shaking your head rid of these thoughts, you decide it’s best not to dwell on idiotic fantasies. So, you get up and dig through your suitcase for your outfit that day. You head into the shower, already making a mental checklist of all the things you need to repack before checking out in a couple of hours.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal the hotel’s lobby. You stand in line as others buzz around, on their way back to their day to day lives. It’s not long before you stare up at a friendly concierge and return their smile as they help you check out. 

Tucking a receipt of your stay into your bag, you bump into a broad form. A strong hand on your forearm keeps you from hitting the ground after losing your balance from the impact. But as you are about to thank the stranger, you freeze at the sight of the dimpled man from the lounge standing before you. 

A soft smile crosses his lips as he greets you, “Good morning. You seem well rested.”

“I… I am, yes and good morning to you as well,” you respond politely. 

“That’s good…” He nods.

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, not really knowing how else to fill the silence. You clear your throat, ”Well, I’ve got to get going. Have a safe trip.”

As you're grabbing the handle of your case, his hand grabs your bicep and makes you stop. “I’m glad I could help you unwind.” He releases his hold on you but not before whispering one last admission in your ear.

Your eyes widen, snapping to his direction only to see his back facing you. Not once did he look back as he made his way out of the hotel doors. You watched him disappear before your very eyes like that with his parting words echoing over and over in your head. 

“I can still taste you.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you suck in a deep breath and release it slowly. 

Fuck.

[ragingbookdragon]

Finding Love In The Louvre

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: None

Author's Note: An old story I edited! Enjoy the fluff! -Thorne

The day started as it usually did, her standing by the elevator, waiting for the doors to open so she could hand him his coffee and explain his schedule. Sure enough, the doors opened at eight A.M. on the dot, and he stepped out, briefcase in one hand, phone in the other. He shoved his phone in his pocket, accepting the outstretched coffee she held. He moved quickly, but she kept pace.

“Good morning Mr. Wayne.” He hummed in return, taking a sip of the coffee; she paid no mind, continuing with, “So today you have a board meeting in room one-forty-two,” His mouth opened to complain, but she held up a hand, silencing him, “I can’t put it off any longer, I’ve already tried.” He grumbled in return, causing her to smile lightly as she kept speaking.

“That starts in an hour, and it should end at eleven. I recommend after that you go and check with Lucius about the gala coming up while I order lunch. I should have that ready by twelve-fifteen, then the rest of the day is paperwork and the occasional friendly visit with the office workers.”

By the time she was done, he was taking a seat at his desk, shifting papers around. She stood with her tablet in one hand, the other propped on her hip. “Anything you need me to do before I go sit down?”

He handed her a sheet while he looked at the monitor, waiting for the retina scanner to start. “Fax that to Gotham Academy, if you would.”

She took it, looking it over before asking, “This for Damian’s field trip to the Louvre?” He nodded, and she murmured, “I still can’t believe you managed to talk the headmaster into letting you fly his class to France for a couple days.” She eyed him over the top of the paper. “You know you’re going to have to go, right? You got the trip allowed. It’d look bad on your part if you didn’t go.”

He finally looked over at her, a curious sparkle in his eyes. “Have you ever been to France, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “If you count a plane ride over France while on the way to Holland, then yes. But have I been to France? No.”

Bruce leaned back in his seat, hands curling around the arm rests of his seat. “Do you want to go?”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “And keep an eye on a group of rambunctious teenagers? Uh…no. I already have enough trouble keeping your group in check.” Bruce gave a laugh at her words, but she followed with, “But if you need me to go with Damian, I can work it into the schedule.” He nodded, and she tapped at her screen. “Alright, I’ll fax the paperwork with our information for travel.” She turned, making her way to her desk when his voice reached her.

“Wait! Our inform—I’m going too?”

She simply threw a thumbs up, sitting at her desk.

***

She settled into the cushioned seat, a sigh of relief slipping through her lips.

An amused voice sounded beside her, “Getting comfortable (Y/N)?”

She hummed, pushing the button to recline her seat. “Eight hours in first class? Are you kidding me? Of course, I’m getting comfortable.” Bruce grinned, settling into his seat the same as her. She watched him groan as he lifted his legs, stretching them out.

A knowing tone came up and she said, “I told you not to wear hard-bottomed shoes. You should’ve gone with sneakers.”

“Why do you enjoy torturing me, (Y/N)?”

She laughed at his words, looking over at him. “I tell you not to do things and you do them anyway. It’s not hard to find the chastising humor in it.” Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but it was cut off by a small huff, and they both looked over, seeing his youngest son collapsing into a seat beside them. (Y/N) reached over, gently caressing the top of his head. “Don’t want to hang around with the simpletons anymore, Damian?”

He nodded and closed his eyes, curling up in the seat. “I have never met a group of kids more idiotic than my class.” His eyes flew open, and he leaned across the arm rest, a sneer on his face. “Just last week, that troglodyte Trevor made a comment so ridiculous, even his reasoning was absurd.”

(Y/N) nodded and asked, “What’d he say?”

Damian scoffed and replied, “He said that he wanted to be like Achilles because he looked cool.” She waved a hand for him to continue. “So, I said, ‘Really, you want to be a man that throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way?’ And this fool had the audacity to look at me like I had just asked him-”

His rant was cut off by Bruce, who said, “Damian, enough.”

Damian rolled his eyes whispering, “I cannot stand how stupid they are.”

(Y/N) snorted, leaning close and telling him, “Give them a chance, Damian.” The look he gave her made her wish she’d had a camera, and she continued with, “You have to remember, these people haven’t been schooled like you have. You’re more advanced than the average thirteen-year-old. They’re still learning how to switch classes without a teacher escorting them.”

Damian leaned back, a look of thought on his face, then he retorted, “They are still stupid.”

(Y/N) reached over, handing him a book. “Here kiddo. Keep yourself occupied.”

He took the book, flipping it over. “What is this, ‘Hell Divers’ about?” (Y/N) popped a cracker in her mouth, pointing to the back. He read it silently, then made a motion to hand it back. “Doesn’t look interesting.”

(Y/N) swallowed and put another cracker in her mouth, shifting it to the side of her cheek with her tongue as she pushed the book back. “I brought the whole series.” She grinned at him, holding up the set. “I bet you can’t read the entire thing by the time we land.”

Damian scowled, snatching the books from her, and opening the first one. She gave a satisfied smile and turned back to the front when she felt eyes on her. (Y/N) looked over, seeing Bruce staring at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She raised an eyebrow questioning, “What?”

He tipped his chin towards Damian. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get him to read something he didn’t find interesting?”

(Y/N) reached over and condescendingly patted his arm. “The same way I get you to buy new suits every gala.”

Bruce looked at her in confusion. “And that way is?”

(Y/N) reclined in her seat, pulling her blanket up to her chin and pulling the eye mask down her eyes. “I tell you that someone there might be able to out dress you, and that spurs you to make sure you look the best.”

She couldn’t see him, but she could picture his face and arms as he pouted, “So you manipulate me?”

“With all the care and affection you need Mr. Wayne.” And that was all she said before rolling over and curling up and drifting off.

***

“And stay with your guides at all times! Chaperones, if you get lost or separated from your guide, you have Mr. Wayne and my cellphone numbers, please call, do not stay lost!” (Y/N) looked at the chaperones and guides. “Does everyone understand?” Cheers and nods came from all sides, and she waved them off. “Then be free! Curfew is at nine P.M.! Be there before nine, please! And be careful!” Her words fell on deaf ears as the groups dispersed, and she groaned lightly, rubbing her temples.

A hand rested on her lower back and she looked up, seeing Bruce smiling at her. “Don’t worry so much, (Y/N). Everyone will be fine.” She nodded, trusting his words, then he tipped his head to the side. “Damian’s hailed a cab. Let’s go hit the Louvre, then we’ll go to lunch.” She followed him to where Damian was holding the car door and slid inside.

***

The drive didn’t take long, and soon they were walking around the museum. Damian had wandered off, waving his hand, and saying, “I can handle myself.”

She and Bruce simply nodded, watching him go before they set off themselves. They walked around, observing the pieces, until (Y/N) saw a particular one. Her feet sunk into the ground and she stopped, staring at it in admiration.

Bruce glanced between them. “Nike?”

She nodded, telling him, “I remember learning about her in Humanities back in community college, but I never actually imagined ever seeing her.” (Y/N) paused, a calm look coming across her face. “Pictures don’t do her justice. She’s more impressive than I thought. And bigger.”

Bruce listened to her, then asked quietly, “Do you like art, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “Here and there. I like pieces that catch my eye or look interesting.” She glanced at him. “I really enjoy history and science museums.” (Y/N) reached over, nudging him in the side. “Maybe for the next fieldtrip, you can fly us to D.C., and we can hit the Smithsonian.” (Y/N) stepped away and nodded to the next room. “C’mon, let’s go to the next exhibit.”

He fell into step beside her and as they observed the next piece he murmured, “Would you like to go to the Smithsonian, (Y/N)?”

She half focused on his words, absentmindedly replying, “Whenever the next field trip comes up, sure.”

A gentle grip took her hand and she looked over, seeing a serene look in his eyes, and he asked, “No…would you like to go to the Smithsonian…with me?”

(Y/N) blinked, then gestured clumsily between them. “Like…just us?” He nodded and she clarified, “Me and you…together?” He nodded again, a smile accompanying it, and she couldn’t help but ensure, “No one else? Just…us?”

Bruce huffed a laugh, gently squeezing her hand. “Just us.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, and she looked down, mumbling, “Oh…I…I don’t know if the schedule is clear…”

Another squeeze followed by, “As the boss, I can clear any and all plans made.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but she pushed it aside, glancing back at him, her eyes firm. “Are you being serious with me right now? You’re not pulling joke?”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and he admitted, “I don’t actually know if I should be offended that you think I’m playing a joke or not, but to answer your question, no, I’m not pulling a joke.” He let go of her hand, trailing his fingers up her forearm, the other arm curling around her. “I’m being one-hundred percent serious.”

He gave her a smile, blue eyes shining. “I would like it if you spent the weekend with me in D.C.” He paused, lips pulling downwards as he added, “Or just spent the weekend with me. We don’t have to go anywhere…if we’re together, that’s all that matters to me. I just really want you—”

(Y/N) cut him off, pressing her lips to his cheek. He grinned at her, watching as she murmured, “I would love to go to D.C. with you, Bruce.” She pulled away, slipping out of his grip, and wandering off towards the next room. He stared at her back, heart thumping in his chest when a voice sounded below him.

“Took you long enough.” His mood soured, and he looked down, seeing Damian standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

“When did you get here?” He asked.

Damian glanced up at him and muttered, “Since the start of your embarrassing courting.” Bruce reached over and ruffled his hair, laughing at how Damian slapped his hand, a glare in his eyes.

“It wasn’t embarrassing.”

“Not to you. But the others were considering throwing up.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Others?”

Damian simply held up his phone, and Bruce looked into the eyes of his other sons who were returning his gaze, albeit smugly.

“So, (Y/N)’s finally gonna join the fray? Cool!”

A hand shoved Dick’s head aside, and Jason looked into the camera. “I’m seriously surprised it took you this long, old man. I mean, how long has she been your secretary? When Dick got there?”

A new voice picked up from the side, and Tim’s head squeezed into view. “Actually, (Y/N) was there before Dick got there. She was there when Bruce started working at W.E.”

Dick’s head shoved Jason’s aside, and his snarky grin appeared. “But the point is, nice going, Bruce! It’s only taken you like seventeen years to get her to go out with you! You must be one weird guy for it to take so long. Maybe it’s because—”

At this point, Bruce had grunted, turning on his heel and marching off after (Y/N). Dick sputtered through the camera, “Damian! Go after him! I haven’t finished explaining his problems!”

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain all the old man’s problems.”

“You’re one to talk, Jason.”

“I dare you to say that to my face replacement.”

Damian rolled his eyes, shutting off the phone and walking after his father, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

[shysneeze]

Do Me a Favour | Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Description: Fred and the reader’s relationship seen through a series of favours

Warnings: its kind of angsty, brief description of injury (umbridge’s detention related) briefly battle of hogwarts related, miscommunication i guess 

Tag-List : new form is here for anyone interested in being added 

~* Fifth Year *~

“Do me a favour?” 

It’s a question (Y/N) has been practicing internally for at least an hour, yet her voice still wobbles as she asks it aloud. Fred, lying back in the grass, soaking in the late summer sun, peeks open one eye to look up at her with a questioning brow. 

“Yeah?” 

“K-kiss me?” 

A second passes before he reacts, sitting bolt upright in an instant, choking slightly on the gasped breath taken in the process. Regret floods her chest with a mortified ache and she finds herself dropping her eyes to the ground and picking at tufts of grass nervously.

“What?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” She mumbles, “It’s stupid.” 

“Kiss you?” He repeats, “L-like on the lips?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” She argues embarrassedly, “I was just- I haven’t- it doesn’t matter.”

He blinks at her, confusion pulling his brows into a frown. Confused is probably the only word he can come up with to explain the whole thing, because quite frankly, it’s not everyday your childhood best friend asks you to kiss them. Then, much to (Y/N)’s further mortification, realisation flickers across his face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” 

He asks it like he’s surprised, something that only goes to confuse (Y/N) herself. Yet she nods, too obviously embarrassed to even attempt to play it off as some elaborate joke or simply fib her way out of it. 

“Really?” Fred asks, “And you want me to be your first kiss?” 

“I just want it out the way,” She explains hastily, “Don’t go getting big headed about it… it’s just a favour.” 

He’s silent, the most silent she’s ever heard him before even, and it does nothing but add to her growing concern that in one fell swoop, she’s managed to ruin sixteen years of friendship. She’s on the verge of what is bound to be an incoherent string of apologies when he finally answers. 

“Okay.” 

Her breath catches with something between relief and sheer panic. 

“Really?” 

“What sort of friend would I be if I denied you such a simple favour?” 

‘Simple’ is perhaps an underestimation of what she’s asking, and she can see the nervous way he licks his lips despite the grin he throws on instantly to disguise it. She’s gotten this far though, too far to chicken out now with his warm hand cupping one of her cheeks as he leans closer. 

The sun has brought out millions of freckles across his pale cheeks, and for the first time she’s so close she could count them. Part of her, a side of her she’s never met before, thinks about tracing her finger across them, connecting them like constellations. Something in her chest twitches at the thought. 

“You ready?” 

“Don’t make it sound so clinical,” She mumbles. 

“Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.” 

She smiles, glad for the familiarity of his teasing. It has some of her nerves dissipating, her lungs expanding with a light, freeing breath before she nods.

He’s tentative for only a moment, their lips meeting in the lightest of kisses until she’s instinctively pulling him closer, fingers curled around a handful of his gryffindor tie. He lets out a surprised sound from deep in his throat, though he doesn’t pull back. 

In fact, if he knew kissing his best friend might feel this good, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions before doing so in the first place. At the feeling of her grip slipping from his tie, he feels his heart dropping disappointedly, chasing her lips subconsciously as she pulls back. 

He watches her contemplative expression, a good distraction from the racing of his heart in his chest and the unexplainable urge to kiss her again. She gives him a wide-eyed look, eyes darting in every direction as she navigates whatever millions of questions are running around her head. 

Then, she clears her throat, nodding as she begins to get to her feet and leaving him dazed on the grass with reddening cheeks. 

“Thanks,” She says, “I owe you one.” 

~ *Sixth Year* ~ 

“(Y/N),” Fred exclaims happily, portrait door swinging shut behind him as (Y/N) looks up from her book to meet him with a frown, “Just who I was looking for,” 

“That’s never good,” She says, slowly closing her book, “When am I busting you out of detention this time?”

“You wound me,” He retorts before dropping onto the couch beside her with, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead with a dramatic flair, “Me? Detention?” 

His head lands haphazardly on her lap and she looks down at him with an amused look, shaking her head in teasing disbelief. His lips twitch into a grin, one that (Y/N) knows is just the beginning of what she doubts will be a simple request. 

“Do me a favour?”

For a split second, she freezes, a slight shiver crawling up her back at the question, which little under a year ago saw them kissing by the lake. He holds her eyes in a knowing gaze that causes her to nod cautiously.

“Okay…”

“Come to the ball with me?” 

Her brows lift into a surprised expression.

“What?” 

“The Yule Ball,” He explains, sitting up now to face her properly, “I need a date.”

She gives him a long, questioning, look, searching for some tell-tale signs of a Fred Weasley joke in the makings. Sceptically, she narrows her eyes. 

“Why?”

“You owe me one.” 

She bristles imperceptibly, gulping at the knowing look that swims in eyes and twitches the corners of his lips into a small smirk. 

“That and I left it all a bit last minute, you see,” 

She can’t quite decide whether it’s hurt or relief that tugs at her chest at the revelation, that he’s only asking as a last resort. It’s a much more simple version of the scenario she’s been building in her head since he first asked his question, one with far less feelings to get more attached to.

“What if I’ve already said yes to someone else?” 

“Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been turning people down for weeks now,” He raises a brow, “What’s that about? Holding onto hope of being asked by someone special?” 

The teasing tone he’s going for comes out strained in a way (Y/N) has never heard from him before and she frowns for a second at it before rolling her eyes. 

“No, I’m not,” She answers, “I just didn’t feel like going with them.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a date?” He says, “And neither do I… how convenient.” 

She lets out a short scoff, shaking her head in disbelief at the pleading puppy-dog look he’s managed to perfect in just a few seconds. She exhales a loud reluctant sigh that has the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“Is that a yes?” 

“Hmm,” She nods, “I guess,” 

“How romantic.” 

“Ah well, as a wise boy once said, beggars can’t be choosers.” She manages a smirk of her own, “Perhaps next time you’ll find yourself a date sooner than a week before the dance.” 

Something in Fred’s face drops for only a split second, and not even their years of friendship helps her read it. It’s only a moment before he’s disguising it again with a lopsided grin and a playful shove.

“Shut up,”

~* Seventh Year *~

Fred’s finger tips are warm as they trace the red-raw words scratched into the back of (Y/N)’s hand, lookin from it up to her eyes with a look she knows means a lecture. She sniffles slightly, twisting away from him to plan her counter argument. 

“Before you say anything,” She starts, “Your hand is just as bad so don’t start on my detentions.” 

“I wasn’t going... “ He sighs, “Well, I was, but you’re right. I’m just trying to figure out how to get the pink hag back for it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid... I’m fine.”

Fred let’s put a disagreeing grumble.

“Fred,” She says warningly. 

“I know,” He breathes out reluctantly, “I just worry when it’s you.”

She turns back to face him, hoping to catch whatever expression has followed such a revelation, but she’s too late, finding him instead twisting away from her to search through his bedside table drawer. He returns with a small jar of healing balm, what she’d come to his dorm for in the first place, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

“What happened this time?” 

“I missed curfew again,” (Y/N) mumbles, hissing in a breath when the balm touches the open wound, “I was at the library trying to teach myself the bloody defence course since she won’t- ouch.” 

“Done,” He assures with a soft smile, “Wuss.” 

“It’s not that when you’re the injured one,” She teases, though she’s not feeling quite up to it, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our last year.” 

“I know.”

She’s not sure what’s causing the tears that have welled in her eyes though, certainly not from the sting of the healing balm or even the general pain from the scar itself. Yet she can’t help the tears that have begun to fall from her lashes and slip down her cheeks.

“Hey-” Fred looks up, brown eyes wide in surprise, “What’s going on?” 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) hiccups, wiping her eyes hastily, “I don’t know why i’m crying.”

“Take your time,” Fred says, rubbing soothingly at her back, “It’s okay,”

“It’s all just a bit much isn’t it.” She manages after a moment, “Newts are hard enough but now w-we’ve got this absolute psychopath of a defence teacher who doesn’t actually teach, we’re training to fight deatheaters and- it’s just a bit much.”

“I know what you mean,” He admits solemnly, “It’s pretty messed up.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, “Everyones going through the same thing-” 

“Don’t do that.” He frowns, “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset about it, (Y/N).”

“I know but-” 

She hears him click his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, and she can picture him rolling his eyes though she doesn’t have time to see for herself, not with his arm around her shoulder as he curls her into his chest. 

She freezes, as if this is something bizarre, as if they’ve not shared hugs a million times growing up. This is protective though, like in his arms, for even just a moment, he’s protecting her from everything wrong in the world. 

“Fred?” She sniffles against his chest, “Do me a favour?”

“Anything, (Y/N).”

“Just- just hold me for a bit.”

His breath catches, heat blossoming in his chest as he pulls her closer, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. 

“Of course.”

~* Post-Hogwarts*~

“Do me a favour?”

(Y/N), seconds from falling asleep, fit perfectly between Fred and the back of the sofa, peers up at him with bleary eyes and soft smile.

“Of course.” She exhales tiredly.

“Be with me.” 

She freezes, replaying it over and over in her head, not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. At her silence, he lets out a sharp noise that sends a jolt of panic into her body, waking her up well and truly. She lets out a choked sound as his arms unravel from her waist and a chill hits her as he begins to pull back. 

“What?” 

“It’s late-” He begins to backtrack.”I’ve got to open up shop tomorro-”

“What did you just say, Fred?” 

He gives her a look that's almost pained. 

“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleads, “Let’s just forget about it-” 

“You… You like me?” 

He lets out a sound close to a pained laugh that lodges itself in his throat as he twists awkwardly away from her. A deep crimson colour has begun to creep up his neck and he pulls nervously at his shirt collar in a meek attempt to combat it. 

“I’ve not been very subtle, (Y/N).” 

“Clearly you have!” (Y/N) bursts, only shrinking with the realisation that, just down the hall, George is sleeping in his room. “Since when?” 

“Since you kissed me,” He exclaims exasperatedly, “Favour bloody one.” 

She stands, suddenly hit by the need to pace, to move around as she deals with all the questions that race through her head. Gulping, Fred watches her move, suddenly afraid that he’s made this favour their last. 

Then, she comes to a stop. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“An idiot,” (Y/N) repeats, “You made me feel like the last resort for the yule ball, but you’re telling me that was serious?” 

“Hey,” He frowns, “It was serious right until you started giving me this look like I was insane and I had to cover my arse somehow-” 

“Shut up,” 

She drops herself onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in her hands and holding his face there, inches from her own. He watches, frozen in awe, as her eyes dance across his face. She’s tracing his freckles again, close enough to be  mesmerised all over again. 

“Since we’re pretty terrible with signals,” She exhales, “When I kiss you now… it’s not just a favour.” 

“Thank Merlin for that.” 

~* The Battle of Hogwarts*~ 

Hogwarts has never felt so different. 

Standing here now, it’s hard for (Y/N) to imagine these are the same hallways they once walked down, that she and Fred used to sneak through in the dark for midnight snacks and linger outside of before teachers arrived.

Tucked into an alcove of the corridor, Fred and (Y/N) watch the havoc unfolding, keenly aware of what lies ahead, the war that’s been looming over them all year. He holds her hand in his own, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can manage as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” 

“Of course, Love,” He smiles, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek, “We’ll be fine.” 

She nods, melting into his warm touch. But nothing eases the weight that has settled on her chest, the anxious feeling that is telling her everything is about to go wrong. She searches his eyes for something familiar to cling onto. 

“I don’t like us not sticking together,” Fred admits quietly, “We should be where we can keep an eye on each other.” 

“I promised Madam Pomfrey I’d help with the injured,” (Y/N) admits sadly, “And you should be with George.” 

“I know,” He breathes, “I just don’t like it,” 

She smiles sadly in agreement. 

“Me either,” She admits, “but I’ll be fine… I’ve always had better defence marks than you anyway,” 

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Fred laughs, bringing back a sense of normality, even if just for a moment. The hand on her cheeks pinches her playfully and his brown eyes roll with a teasing glint to them. 

“Look at you, joking in a crisis,” He teases, “I’m so proud,” 

“I’ve known you long enough to have picked up some sort of ill-timed sense of humour,” 

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” 

“I love you too,” 

He leans in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, a practiced art that has a well-known warmth flooding (Y/N)’s chest. Yet, as he pulls back, he leaves something bitter sweet behind, the ache of a goodbye kiss. 

“I should go,” He admits, “Before we end up caught up in the crowds, right?”

“Yeah,” 

“I’ll see you once it’s all over,” He grins, “When we’ve won,” 

It takes a moment for (Y/N) to convince herself to let go of his hand and feels suddenly cold once it’s gone. He’s turning away with one last wave when she calls him back, heart hammering in her chest. 

“Do me a favour?” 

He pauses before breaking into a small smile. 

“Always, Love.” 

“Don’t die.”

“I promise.”

[crashdevlin]

Opposites Don’t Attract (A Witcher Fic)

Author’s Note: This was written while I was fighting Covid19...so I’m pretty proud of that. I'm aware that not everyone likes the Witcher but this was the only thing that would could out of my head that week so...

I took bits of lore from the show, the books, and the games and mixed them all up into a cohesive awesomeness...also, the smut is pretty good, but the banter is where it's at with this one. If you guys like this, I might make it a series...so, let me know how you're feeling on it.

Summary:  Y/n is a witcher from the Cat School (a nomadic school that is one of the few that actually makes female witchers) who keeps running into Geralt of Rivia...to her great pleasure.

Pairing: Geralt x Female Witcher!Reader, mentions of Geralt x Yennefer and Geralt x Triss Merigold

Word count: 3869

Story Warnings: 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of infertility, little bit of angst (it's a Cassie story...what do you expect?)

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

It wasn’t often you crossed paths with the White Wolf. The Continent was vast and you both had work to do. But it was always a treat when you walked into a tavern and smelled the man.

"Geralt. What brings you to Kagen?" you asked, taking the stool next to him at the bar.

"A contract."

"Always so succinct, Wolf...and just a bit disrespectful. Isn't my school the one that's supposed to birth disreputable thugs?"

Amber eyes turned on you as you fiddled with your medallion, a silver coin with a cat's head on a silver chain. It hung right between your breasts and never came off.

"Here to kill a monster...or be a monster?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.

A zing of indignant fury went through you but you stifled it instinctively. "I haven't taken a contract against a human in nearly twenty years. I've learned the error of my ways. I told you as such when we met last. Remember? The bard's impromptu celebration in Lyria." He grunted softly at you and looked away. "You do remember, don't you, Geralt?"

"My memory is fine, Feline."

"Then you remember folding me in on myself and making my body quake?" You set your hand on his thigh and watched his face for a reaction.

He gave no indication he even noticed your fingers over the conditioned leather. "Since when do you call them 'humans'? When last we met, you were still calling them by the slur."

You rolled your eyes. "That was a single slip. Another thing I've seen the error on. I've developed, I've grown. You have to admit that some things are hard to shake, like a word you shouldn't say or a prejudice you were taught as a small child. I wasn't really given a choice on who to sympathize with in the conflict. Cats and Elves, we go together. Call it a commiseration of outcasts."

He let out a long sigh before dropping his hand to yours. "You talk too much, Cat."

"Well, someone has to fill the silence around you. Jaskier doesn't seem to be around right now, so I'll take that mantle." You licked your lips and hummed as his fingertips slowly caressed the back of your hand. "I could help you fulfill your contract. Two witchers are better than one. What are you after?"

He turned his head just enough to catch your eyes. "You want to help me?"

"I want to fuck you, but I feel you're going to be distracted until you've got your coin so I might as well hasten that instance."

"Can I trust you to have my back in battle?"

You pulled your hand away and shook your head. "If I can alter my preconceived notions of humans, you can alter your notions of Felines. Or, in the very least, of me." You caught his eyes and held them without blinking. "I have known you for decades, Geralt. Can you trust me to have your back?"

He held your eyes for a few moments before he picked up his ale. "It's a graveir. Strength is more important than speed."

"Well, then I'll just have to pull its attention and hope it is hungry for witcher." You smiled. "And you can kill it before it eats me."

He smiled just a bit as he set his mug down. "Perhaps I'll let it eat you, kill it while it is sated and happy."

"Aww, but then the great White Wolf would never get to eat his fill of this Feline ever again."

He smirked as you set a coin on the bar and requested an ale of your own. "And what brought you to Kagen, Y/n?"

You smiled at the use of your name. "Tracking a man." His eyebrow went up so you clarified. "Just tracking. He's a historian. There's some question of the authenticity of some of the Aen Seidhe artifacts he's 'found'. He's at the whore house two down so I thought I'd have a drink while he was busy. A lucky stroke to find you."

"If you help me with the graveir, you might lose him."

You took a drink of your ale and turned on the stool. "You think we can't take down a graveir and have a fun night before a middle-aged human historian wakes from his well-deserved nap after a night of lust away from his wife?" You leaned next to his ear and whispered, "Are you underestimating me or yourself?"

"I could never underestimate you." He tipped his head back and finished off his ale and you chugged down your own. It was time to work.

As you moved to follow Geralt out of the tavern, a tall man with a sunburned face stepped in front of you.

"I didn't know they made witchers with tits," the foul-smelling farmer said with a guffaw at the end for good measure.

"Well, you've never seen the Butcher of Blaviken with his shirt off, have you?" you snapped, stepping away from him.

"You're a real one, then? You got the eyes, I see. They do all those mutations on you? Hear witchers are like a bitch in heat but cain't procreate. Now there's a perfect woman, right? Always ready to be filled, but never able to give me any more little brats."

Geralt sneered at the man's words but you just shook your head. "I guarantee no woman wants to be filled by you or your brats. Especially not this woman."

The drunk looked offended for a moment before he scoffed. "You're not a woman. You're a fuckin' mutant. Wouldn't want your-"

A blade was in your hand and held against his throat in a flash. "I'm a fucking mutant and a fucking woman and I want nothing to do with you."

"Apologize," Geralt demanded, quiet and intent.

The drunk looked down at the knife and blinked a few times, then nodded. "Sorry."

Your blade was back in its sheath on your hip before he could take another breath. "Let's go, Geralt."

"Hmm." He pulled open the large wooden door and walked out, you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"When's the last time you saw the Caravan?" Geralt asked as you headed for the woods.

"You really don't think I've changed, do you?" He gave a noncommittal grunt so you rolled your eyes. "Even after that slime back at the tavern? I didn’t kill him. I didn't even hurt him. I didn't even spout off and call him a...well, if anyone deserves to be slurred, it's a man like that and I held my tongue." You reached out and slapped your hand across his chain mail. "Haven’t seen hide nor hair of Dyn Marv in…"

You rubbed your fingers across your eyes and shook your head. "I abandoned the Caravan the day I met you. The ideals were harder to shirk but I left my school the moment I realized that Gezras wasn't quite the savior they claimed. You had it right. You and the others up at Kaer Morhen, you know how...how a witcher's supposed to act. You were trained in the codes and morals, I wasn't."

"No, you were trained blindfolded on a tightrope across the rooftops of Oxenfurt."

"Let it never be said that Cat School is without our flair." You smiled over at him. "And it was Oxenfurt, the Cintran Capital, and Vengerberg. Nomads and all that."

Geralt looked over at you and smiled. "I can imagine the Cintran guard were very happy to have a bunch of witchers crawling across their roofline."

"Oh none of them ever cared for having a bunch of witchers in their city let alone running training exercises across their roofs. But not a one tried to stop us. You'll recall, there was a time when most feared and respected us more than they hated us."

"I don't recall people ever fearing Cat School," he teased.

"Ah-ha, you're so hilarious, Geralt. My sides are in stitches from all this laughter," you responded dryly.

You walked in relative silence for a few moments, your boots making no sound on the tall grass. "I didn't know meeting Vesemir affected you so much," he said eventually.

"Oh, yes. It was wise old Vesemir that showed me the error of my ways, not the dashing white-haired man who rode into Novigrad after him."

"Dashing. That's a new one."

"I'm absolutely certain it is not a new one, Geralt. Not for any woman who's had the pleasure to make your acquaintance." Your cheeks heated up in a way you imagined his never did. Wolves dulled emotion. So did Bears, and Vipers, and most schools. Most pushed down emotions to make a witcher less susceptible to fear and anger and sadness. Cat School was different. You were reminded of that every time you were around Geralt. "I bet 'dashing' would be one of the first words they'd use to describe you: the Triss Merigolds and Yennefer of Vengerbergs of the world."

He looked over at you as you approached a cemetery filled with recent dead from a bandit attack on the outskirts of Kagen. "Hmm. Is that jealousy I hear?"

"No!" you responded just a little too loud. "What do I have to be jealous of? They're two supernaturally beautiful sorceresses who've been part of your life much longer than I have. Besides, none of us really gets you for more than a night or two, right?"

He grunted softly in agreement, then offered a potion from his belt. You took it and swallowed it down, feeling your already-fast reflexes get a boost. "You're supernaturally beautiful too. It will make you better graveir bait."

You couldn’t focus on the compliment he'd given you as he pointed to a bloated ghoul digging into a fresh grave with short, strong claws. He was gone by the time you looked back but you could sense him moving around the outside of the cemetery.

Normally, this was the point when you'd draw your silver; approaching a ghoul as it ripped a limb from a corpse to make its meal for the night. The sword stayed on your back with your steel, however. You were to take its attention so Geralt could kill it from behind.

It was fairly easy, actually. You and Geralt, working in tandem, had the graveir as dead as his dinner before there was a chance for real trouble. It noticed you, it rushed you, you dodged and dodged and threw a punch or three to its ugly face and then Geralt appeared in your vision and the graveir met the sharp blade of a witcher's silver sword. No muss, very little fuss, and very little blood.

"You did good as bait," Geralt commented as you walked back toward the city. "Maybe I should have you play the snack on hunts more often."

"Oh? A snack for the monsters or a snack for yourself?"

"I'm serious. We work well together."

"It's not the first time we've worked together."

There had been, in fact, two other monsters that you helped Geralt with. A wraith terrorizing a man in Novigrad that you helped him with when you first met each other and a wyvern you encountered on the road. Geralt happened to have the contract on the wyvern and showed up to take it down as you were in the midst of killing it.

He graciously shared a portion of the coin garnered from his contract.

He hummed in acknowledgement. “You should come with me.”

You stopped and turned to look at him. “What?”

“Once you’ve fulfilled your contract on the historian, you should saddle up and travel with me. You said it yourself, ‘two witchers are better than one’.”

You looked up into his eyes and blinked a few times. “You miss Vesemir so much that you would travel with me just to have another witcher at your side?”

“Why don’t we leave it at ‘I enjoy your company’?” he suggested.

You started walking again, heading toward your mare, a Konik named Daisy, and Geralt’s mare, Roach. “Will you be staying in Kagen for a while?”

“I have a room at the inn. I can stay in Kagen until you return.”

“You’re serious about me coming with you? I thought sweet nothings were whispered in the throes of passion, not in the aftermath of battle.”

“You don’t have to come with me, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “I’ll have to think about it, Geralt.” You didn’t want to anger any sorceresses. You climbed up into Daisy’s saddle and grabbed her reins. “For now, let’s go to the inn. A bath and a bed sound amazing,” you said, before riding toward the city.

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

The tub was small but you weren’t large. “How do you fit in this thing?” you asked, dunking yourself under the warm water.

“I’m very good at fitting into tight spaces.” Geralt stepped up behind you and kneeled down, setting his chin on your bare shoulder. “Do you need help getting clean?”

“No. But I’d love a bit of help getting dirty again after I’m done.” He hummed and nodded, turning his head to press his lips to your neck. You hummed happily and turned your head to give a bit more access and he took the invitation, running his hand down your body and under the water. You gasped as his fingers brushed your curls. “I’m not clean yet, Geralt.”

“Clean enough.”

You pressed closer to him, arching your hips and reaching back to grab the back of his head, pulling him further down. “More,” you whispered. He chuckled, slipping a finger down to tease your entrance. “Fuck, don’t tease.”

“Why not?” He nipped at your jawline and gave a low hum. “You know...the first time I heard your voice, I knew I’d have to hear you moan.” You gasped as his finger slipped into you down to the knuckle, your fingers digging into his scalp as the heel of his palm pressed into your clit. “I knew I’d have to feel you cum on my cock when I smelled you in the heat of battle.”

You moaned at the thought of Geralt, barely knowing your name, deciding that he’d have to have you just based on scent. It was something so animalistic, so inhuman...so uniquely witcher.

You twisted in the water and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. You didn’t wait for an invitation into the cavern of his mouth, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as he gathered your body in his arms and carried you to the lumpy bed across the room. You pushed at his clothes without breaking the kiss, desperate to taste and feel him. Your fingers skimmed across the lines of his back muscles as you pulled his shirt off. His fingertips dug into your hips and moved to put bruising pressure on your ass as you started untying his trousers.

The man was a specimen. The mages at Kaer Morhen made the best of him. You didn’t have time to examine the body and the cock that were so prominent in your wettest dreams because he was obviously just as desperate for you. He got his trousers down and reached between your bodies, taking his length in hand and smearing the head of it in the wetness seeping out of you. You were just about to start begging when he slipped his cock into your cunt.

You lifted your hips to get more of him inside of you. You needed him stretching you and stuffing you. You needed him pushing you to the absolute limits. He fit you better than any ever had.

He rocked his hips against yours, his pelvis putting pressure against your clit as his cock barely moved against your walls. You wrapped your legs around him, ankles crossed at the small of his back, urging him deeper. He growled and grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands from his shoulders to pin them to the bed above your head.

No other man could put you in such a position. No other man controlled you like Geralt. You would never think to let it happen. No man, not even another witcher, could play you like such a fine instrument. A beautiful lute.

Part of you wished you didn't heal so efficiently, so quickly. Part of you wanted to wear his marks upon you for days, but his marks, just like the scent of your coupling, faded far too quickly for your liking. It left you with nothing but the memory and that just wasn't enough. Not when the man you were remembering was so...amazing.

You whimpered out a faint request and he heeded it, slamming his hips into yours harder. You struggled against his grip, desperate to get your hands in his hair, wanting to tug on the white locks, but he refused to relinquish control of your wrists. He gave you everything you needed, but not necessarily what you wanted.

Like you wanted to hear his voice, but the only time you really needed to hear it was when he leaned down next to your ear and demanded, “Cum, Cat.” Your toes curled and your head pressed back into the pillow, your hips arching closer to his as that finally cracking pleasure fell over you. Geralt lasted a while longer before he filled you, his cock pulsing against your walls as his breath caught in his chest, fingers tightening around your wrists as he came.

He pressed sweet kisses along your jawline as he pulled his half-hard member from your dripping pussy and his hands released your wrists to slide his fingers up to entwine with yours. You ended up with your legs tangled with his, neither of you seeming to care about the wetness of sweat and cum sticky between both of your thighs. You kept one of your hands clutched in his, but pulled the other away so that you could run your fingers through his hair as you stared at the ceiling.

“Do you give it much thought?” you asked, quietly. He made a questioning noise and popped open one eyelid to look up at you from where his head was on your breast. Your cheeks heated up and you licked your lips. “What they did to us. What the mages made of us. What they took from us.”

“Took?”

“Options. The options they took from us. We were children, Geralt. We were babies. They stole…” You cut your words off with a shake of your head. “I guess I’m the only one who thinks about it...and I can’t really imagine being some normal peasant wife with a litter of children and a world of misery, but I...I guess there’s some sweetness in the simplicity of their lives, you know? And I hate that I was never given that option. I was deprived of simplicity before I was even aware there was a difference between the folk in the Caravan and the rest of the world.”

Geralt was silent, but the way his fingers tightened their grip upon your hand filled you with a sense of calm. “People hate us, Geralt. They think us heartless, emotionless, cold. I learned to fake it, because that’s what people expect from someone with two blades on their back and these lovely eyes, but-”

“Cat School doesn’t dull emotions.”

“No. Not even with training. That’s a learned reaction to the outside world. I miss Dyn Marv fiercely sometimes because it’s...lonely away from people who understand. It’s hard to walk the Continent alone.”

He closed his eye and shifted a bit against you. “Why aren’t you with them, then?”

“Differences of morality.”

He was silent for a few minutes, just the sound of your breathing filling the room. “Opposites attract.”

“What?”

“It’s something the bard says. The idiot heard it from an alchemist once and he likes to believe it applies to relationships too. It’s why he goes after beautiful, cultured, married women. ‘Opposites attract’.” He sat up and looked down into your eyes. “But it’s horseshit. We look for companions that remind us of us. It’s why all of his women are as enamored with him as he is. Opposites don’t attract, Y/n...and that’s why you are someone I can’t say ‘no’ to.”

“Because we’re so alike?” you guessed.

“Yes.”

“Just because I’ve changed though, right?”

“No. You changed because you weren’t truly that woman. You were what the mages made you. What your teachers made you. You changed when you decided to.”

You licked your lips again and sat up a bit on your elbows. “What about your sorceresses?”

He smirked a little. “I don’t have sorceresses, Y/n.”

“Lovers. Ex or current?” you simplified the question.

“Current. Obviously,” he said, sarcastic humor in his voice as he ran his hand down your body.

You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore the way his touch lit your skin aflame with sparks of desire. “Geralt, I’m serious. If Yennefer were to ride into Kagen right now...if she knocked on that door…”

“Yen would just walk in. She’s never been one for other peoples’ privacy.” He leaned his head down when you didn’t express amusement at his jest, pressing his forehead to yours. “I could lie.”

“Not really. You’ve not proven yourself a good liar, Wolf.”

“True. I prefer honesty.” He sighed and looked away, sitting up to lean his back against the wall.

“Would you turn her away? Would you turn away Triss?” You sighed heavily. “I’m not trying to sound...like such a sodding woman, but...Geralt, you asked me to come with you. That seems like-” His pensive face made you question what you were even trying to get at. “You know what? I think it’d be better if I just head back to my job following Professor Lery and-”

“Don’t.” He grabbed your arm as you moved to get off the bed. “I care for Triss and I think I...loved Yennefer. But I...don’t think we’ll be an option again. She’s been upset at me since Triss.”

“Won’t this-”

“Stop questioning everything.” You closed your eyes as he leaned over and kissed you again. “Stay.”

“I have to finish the contract, Geralt. I’ve already been paid a hundred-fifty gold for it.”

“Then come back,” he demanded softly.

You smiled at him and nodded, but your heart was far less resolute than you were pretending. “Of course. Don’t go anywhere.” You rolled off the bed and grabbed your trousers and shirt, dressing hastily before grabbing your swords and potion belt. You kissed him one more time before leaving the room, swiping a loaf of bread off of a table in the tavern on your way out.

You weren’t sure if you were coming back to him. You wanted nothing more, but you weren’t looking forward to the moment one of his sorceresses came to call. “I’ll decide while I finish this job,” you told your horse, patting her lovingly. “Maybe it should just stay you and me, huh, Daisy. Maybe two witchers aren’t better than one.”

[dovenymph]

a film by peter parker

authors note: this was inspired by another thinkerpete tweet that read "peter probably watches the bit from "a film by peter parker" where he's in the car with tony over and over when he misses him" and@peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology’s summer of love prompt list💛💛 also the video edit was made by me so please do not screen record/save and repost it even if you do credit me (also this is unedited so sorry for any typos, i’ll probably go through it sometime this week, i just wanted to post it first)

prompts used: 2. making the backyard/rooftop into a movie theater

my masterlist

warnings: mentions of tony’s death, other than that, nothing but fluff

word count: 3.9k

Peter hated the summer.

Peter hated not having anything to busy himself with; no homework, or academic decathlon, or seeing Ned everyday who could wrap him up in his graphic novel fan theories or the drama in his on and off relationship with Betty. It was petty drama and minor stimulation, but it was something to distract him momentarily. But now Ned was in Aruba with his parents for the entire month which meant Peter had to suffer through the scorching heat of Juy all by himself.

Peter knew he didn’t have to be alone each day, -Aunt May had spent many dinners trying to get him to join her at the movies or the mall, even offering to let him have free reign of the lego store (when he said no to that, she knew he was in worse shape than she thought)- he had a handful of trustworthy and dependable friends he could hang out with for the afternoon like MJ and Betty, or even Flash who had been uncharacteristically nice to Peter ever since he found out he was Spiderman; this having happened only a few weeks after Tony had died and Peter had let him in on his secret to console a sobbing Eugene who, honestly, seemed to be more broken up about the news than Peter was. But even with his expanding friend group, Peter had found the most his body could endure was the contents of his bedroom.

He tried to get back out there after Tony’s passing, he really did, but at the first Iron Man tribute he admired on patrol, his body completely shut down and he swung back home, tears dampening the material of the mask.

So a lonely summer was what Peter submitted himself too, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s rewatched his favorite old shows, started binging some new ones. He’s taken apart and put together his lego death star four times now, each time faster than the last. But he’s been particularly fond of staring out the window. His apartment complex was quite close to the building besides his and he could look down into the backyard everyone had to share. Peter’s building had one as well, but since he was pretty sure he was the only person under 35 who lived there, it went unused.

Next door, there was always a different activity occurring in order for the patrons to beat the heat, and Peter often thought about how easy it would be for him to just go downstairs and introduce himself, and ask to join. It’d really be as simple as that and he’d meet some new people, get a free lunch and a chance to swim in the plastic pool they set up; maybe they’d laugh at his jokes and clap when he did flips, but it was all just a maybe, just in his imagination because his brain never let him wander to far before squandering the idea of getting close to someone again, for if history has taught Peter anything, it's that anything he gets close to, is not meant to stay for long and will be soon snatched away from him in the cruelest of ways.

And this thought is what resigns him to slink back behind his window and pout the day away, as he was doing now, vision blurring as he stared at nothing.

“Hey!”

Peter jumped, his eyes focusing on the target of whoever pelted his window and they landed on your form, slumped against your open windowsill, chin resting on your hand as you gazed back at him.

“Can I help you?” Peter bit back after lifting his window half way, his tone unconsciously laced with annoyance. He really didn’t even notice it anymore since that’s how he’s been speaking to everyone in his life for months now, but when you flinched at his tone, guilt started to creep up his spine.

Before he could ever begin to stumble out an apology, you cut him off “Yeah, is there a reason you stare into my room everyday?”

Peter's face flushed red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so bluntly towards him, and honestly, he liked it. He was getting tired of everyone walking on tiptoes around him, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, where he was just Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood student.

“Or could you at least give me some money for some curtains if you just can’t give up the beautiful view of a concrete wall?”

“S-sorry, I- I didn’t even know you were there.”

Lie.

Peter knew you were there, he always knew when you were there.

Peter Parker isn’t a stalker, though! Sure, he’s gone through some fucked up shit on Earth and in space, so yeah, he wouldn’t call himself the most …sane person he knows, but he really wasn’t a creep. With your buildings being so close and your rooms directly across from one anothers, he was bound to notice you at some point.

And at some point he did. It was the first day of summer and Midtown let out at 12 instead of 3 to mark the occasion, so Peter had been mulling about in his room for quite some time already, thinking about how he heard all his classmates amazing summer plans and how the farthest he was going to go was probably the Thai restaurant down the street, and even that was a maybe. Peter sulked in silence until a couple hours later he heard a door slam closed, thumps from things being tossed on the ground, and a loud groan as he peeked through his windowsill at you who was currently flopped on the bed, window wide open without a care, scrolling on your phone.

At first, he was taken aback by your beauty, a small, small feeling of intrigue spiked his system, but it flew under the radar due to the seemingly everlasting dread that’s been weighing down on Peter's shoulders for months. But he couldn’t look away. You’d been doing nothing but looking at tiktoks mindlessly, occasionally cracking a half smile if a video was particularly amusing, but you still remained cemented to your mattress with no plans on moving anytime soon.

This brought comfort to Peter as he fished his phone out from the bottom of his bag and pulled up Ned’s messages and started to look through the media he sent him, almost two months worth of funny memes and videos that he hadn’t been bothered to look at, and he sat there along with you, aimlessly letting the time pass by. He enjoyed it, knowing he wasn’t really alone in his lazy and distracting behaviors because the pretty neighbor girl was doing just the same.

Ever since then, he’s just been …aware… of your coming and goings. He figured you had a summer job as every other day you were gone for a few hours, a solid shift. But on the days you were home, you also spent it mainly up in your room, every now and then, playing music from your record player, and if he was really lucky, you’d, unknowingly, give him a private concert as you sung out whichever niall horan or ariana grande song struck your fancy that day. He grew quite fond of the music, having added some of the regulars to his own playlist. And he enjoyed knowing you were right there, and he was right here; each of you living your lives, as uneventful as they may be, but you were together in some sort of way.

He’d never spoken to you, the ability of being able to just push his window up and call out to you at any time was what he liked, and each day he thought he’d do it but chickened out, and now it seemed like he’d have to make introductions whether he was ready or not.

“Mmm, right, so you haven’t seen me change or anything like that?” You asked and the content of your question and the inquisitive tone brought a flush to his cheeks.

“N-no! Of course not! I-I’d never do that, why would I even want to look at you? I mean! I don’t think you’re ugly or anything I… I just…”

Peter’s ramblings were cut off with your laugh as it bounced off the summer air and into his room. You were fully leaning out your open window now, and Peter had found himself in the same position, as if he was drawn to you.

“I was only joking with ya, but it's still nice to have the confirmation. I’m Y/N, your neighbor! Obviously.” You trailed off at the end, knowing that information was unnecessary since the boy next door obviously already knew that.

He was like no boy you’d ever seen before, only read about in books. He had a sweet disposition and inviting brown eyes that matched his soft chestnut hair. But he was built like a man, a strong jaw and strong arms. You’d seen him leaving his building everyday on your way to school, and when he’d get dropped off in a big black SUV during the late hours of the night, but he walked in the opposite direction or darted inside so fast,you never really got a chance to take him in.

“…Peter?” His tentative tone snapped you out of your daze and you realized he was introducing himself.

“Sorry, Peter! I- I… got distracted… by your… death star!” You let out, eyes focusing on the black and grey figure resting on his bed.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he moved to push it to the ground.

“That’s pretty cool! I finished the star wars series last summer.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to yours and the friendly smile you were giving him along with the genuine interest in your tone seemed to break something inside him, snapped the band of hesitation that wrapped around his heart. “You did? For the first time?”

“Yeah! I know I’m like super late, but there’s like nine movies!”

Your laughs melded into one as you leaned out your respective windows and began talking about your favorite movie series. Peter was aware that this was unnatural for him. He had been more open to this stranger in the past few minutes than he had to his own Aunt in months and the same guilt from earlier crept up on him. But Peter was having a good time talking to you and he felt his insides turn in excitement when he realized you really had no idea who he was. He had a clean slate with you and he could make any first impression he wanted, well he hoped your first impression of him wasn’t that he was a peeping pervert, but we move, as MJ would say.

You were about to start telling Peter about this new dystopian novel you began reading when you heard a woman call out to him.

“Oh, that’s my Aunt May. She must be home from work. I- I should go say hello.” He explained, a sad look crossing his face that you didn’t quite understand.

You felt your own sadness wash over you, though. You didn’t want to stop talking to Peter either. “Yeah, of course!”

“But we can talk tomorrow right?” Peter asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.

“Oh well, I work double tomorrow… so I probably won’t be home ‘til late.” You said and the way the brown haired boys face visibly fell felt like a punch in the gut and you were scrambling for a reason to make him smile.

“B-but hey! I also get paid tomorrow so if you want, you can come over on saturday and we can have a movie night and we can order a shit ton of take out?”

“Come over to your place?” Peter asked, and he felt himsef involuntarily tense at the idea of leaving his room for the first time in weeks. It was safe in his room. But the pleading look on your face and hopefulness in your tone encouraged him to take the chance.

“I’d love to y/n.” Peter said with a soft smile and you smiled back shyly at him before closing your window and making your way out your room, making sure you were safe in the hall, away from his prying eyes to do a little happy dance.

Peter was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he walked out his room to greet his Aunt.

She heard his feet padding down the hall as she was setting out dinner, “Sorry its not ready yet, Petey, today’s been crazy, but I’ll get started now.” She rushed. Recently, she’s been hoping food’s the key to lift her poor nephews spirits, so each night she’ll either order or make something more fattening, cheesy, and delicious than the last.

“It’s alright May,” Peter let out easily as he turned the counter and placed a kiss on her cheek, “why don’t you let me cook tonight?”

May’s jaw dropped and she blinked a couple times. She could barely get two words out of Peter recently, and they were always either a meak thank you for dinner or an it was good when she asked about his day. She felt her eyes tear up at the slight sliver of her old Petey back.

“O-oh, really, you wanna cook?”

Peter ducked his head down at the ingredients in front of him to avoid looking in her eyes, his heart dropping at the glossiness that overtook them. He truly hadn’t realized how closed off he’d been. “Well, how about we do it together?” He began and the face splitting grin that spread across May’s face was all he needed to know he was taking a step in the right direction.

“G-good idea, honey. Can’t have the house burn down, can we?”

“Hey!”

May laughed and kissed Peter’s head as they began winding through the kitchen, making casual conversation. It was just like the old days, May thought. Before the wave of devastation drowned Peter as he lost a father figure, once again.

“So what did you do today, P? Do you know when Ned get’s back? I’m sure you’re both excited to see each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I don’t know when he get’s back actually, but that’s okay-“

“I know you like your peace and quiet, I really do, but I do think it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a little bit, see if Michelle is available. Oh! Or maybe that Lisa, Liz! I liked Liz, see if she’s available-“

“May! Its okay. I don’t need to hang out with Liz Allen,” Peter grumbled, “I- I made a new friend actually.”

May looked over at Peter in confusion since he hadn’t gone out or had anyone over in weeks, that she could remember; and Peter took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“The neighbor.”

“Mrs. Wozniak?”

“No! Y/n, she lives in the next building over. And my room is right across from hers. We’re gonna hang out on saturday.”

“Oh?” May raised her brows at her nephew and bit back a smile, much to Peter’s chagrin. “Is she pretty?”

“And that’s relevant why?”

“I don’t know!!” May drawled and Peter just rolled his eyes and kept chopping the vegetables in front of him, the blush adorning his cheeks refusing to go down as he thought yes, yes she is.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You yanked the door open as soon as you heard Peter’s knocks against it. He jumped back a bit, his arm still partially raised from when he knocked and you silently berated yourself for being so eager, but the spreading smile across his face made you feel not so bad.

“Oh, sorry, I was just-“

“It’s alright.” Peter replied with a soft smile, and you let yourself trace the golden flecks in his eyes before he cleared his throat, once again, snapping you out of a daze. You seemed to be in a dreamy state around him alot.

“Can I come in? I brought my Star Wars DVD collection by the way, I know you’ve seen them, but this one has the director's cut which I thought totally changed the course of the first trilogy!” Peter explained, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You bit your lip at the sight, his cuteness was rubbing off on you. “Yeah, that sounds great, but actually we aren’t gonna be watching in here.” You said, grabbing the bag of Chinese food and snacks and stepping out.

Peter’s face sputtered as you both walked to the stairs. He’d spent all day building up his courage to just go six feet from his building, there was no way he’d be able to go around the city with you for the fear of seeing something that’ll remind him of the avengers or crime.

“Y’alright?” You asked, noticing Peter’s stony silence as you walked down the last flight and made your way to the back gate.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t really hung out with anyone new in a while, well, with anyone at all really.”

You smiled in sympathy, “I get you, I haven’t either. All my friends are out of town, so I’ve mostly just hung out in my room, too.”

“But you already knew that, don’t ya stalker?”

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved your arm as you laughed, glad you got his nerves out of his system. You unlocked the gate and lef Peter to the back garden.

“Woah..” Peter let out. There was a large white sheet hung up between two trees, and a projector set up on the table behind where a blanket lay, covered in a mess of pillows. The setting sun lit up by strung lightbulbs.

“You like? I figured since we both seemed to be home bodies, we could have the fun of the movie theatre, but here!”

Peter felt his heart swell at your words. You’d only known him for two days, and you already treated him with so much consideration and kindness. “I- I love it, y/n. This is amazing.”

He saw how you tucked your cheek into your shoulder in bashfulness and felt his spirits raise even higher. You were adorable.

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the projector works though, it took me forever to translate the instructions.”

Peter walked over to it and gave it a once over. “It seems fine to me, but I can always look at it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? You good with tech?”

“Good enough to get by. I needed it a lot while working with Mr. Stark” Peter began, forgetting that he wasn’t talking to an old friend.

“You worked with Tony Stark?!?”

“Oh.. oh yeah, only for a little! I was an intern.” He said quietly, beating himself up for even bringing up the topic of Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of a pretty girl.

“Wow, that must’ve been amazing. You, you must miss him a lot then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah I do.”

“But no matter, we’re here to have a good time right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are!” You grasped his hand and gave him a sympathetic squeeze -neither of you blind to the sparks that shot from the place your hands met- and got settled on the blanket.

Two and a half moves later, the sun had set and the two of you were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering of the projector as the abandoned movie played. You and Peter were sitting cross legged, facing each other as he told you another story about working with the Avengers.

“Yeah, it was so crazy!! We were in this airport and he went from being like two inches tall to two hundred feet, it blew my mind. But it was okay though, because I had this idea-“

“Wait, wait, wait. You were there? Why?” You asked, loving every adventure filled anecdote he told you, but it wasn’t all adding up. For just an intern, he seemed incredibly close to Mr. Stark himself, but then again, you’d only known him for less than a week and you also wanted to go everywhere with him.

Peter worried his lip, thinking about how he could worm his way out of this one. Why would a teenage intern be at the Avengers civil war? He figured he could lie, or even just run away and buy black out curtains. Maybe he could convince Aunt May to switch rooms with him even. But you’d already brought so much light to his life in multiple aspects, and he thought, just maybe, you’d be able to bring light to that aspect of his life too.

“You know what, lemme just show you! Wait here, I’ll be back!”

Peter ran back down, his Chewbacca flash drive in hand, adrenaline running through his veins. He plugged it into your laptop and dug up a folder he hadn’t touched in almost eight months.

“What’s this?” You asked as he sat back down next to you.

“You’ll see.” He said, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

A Film by Peter Parker, read the title as a compilation of videos featuring Peter, Happy, Aunt May, the Avengers, and Tony projected before you both.

Peter heard you gasp as the camera flashed to the suit, and saw, from the corner of his eye, how your head snapped towards his as he backspringed across the battleground. The film continued and neither of you could tear your eyes from the screen. Peter felt his eyes well up with tears as a scene with him and Tony talking to the camera began and he thought that watching this was a bad idea and he was about to turn around and turn it off when he felt your fingers intertwine with his.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth you brought him and he squeezed back, his brain nearly malfunctioning at the speed in which he tried to memorize the feel of your hand in his. But his senses were overloaded as he picked up on your accelerated heartbeat.

The two of you continued to watch the video, neither moving even when it autostarted from the beginning, and this time you laughed outwardly at the funny parts, and asked him questions about why Happy didn’t seem to like him.

“What did you do to him Peter?”

“Nothing I swear!”

“Likely story.”

And he felt the steel blanket of grief fall off his shoulders. The feeling of intrigue and excitement for going back to life was no longer a small trail buried deep within him, but now a firecracker that ignited his insides and aurated off of him. Things were going to be alright, he was going to make it out this summer with more than just the memories from his bedroom, and he’d make it through whatever else life would throw at him, as long as he had you by his side.

Because you didn’t make his heart beat faster out of fear, you made him feel flustered and full of affection.

And you didn’t hold him roughly, with the intent to harm him; you held him delicately, and he could only wait to be able to hold your heart the same way.

[wellimaginethat]

Trouble in Paradise

Pairing: Jay Halstead x (female) Reader, Kelly Severide x Best Friend!Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 1839

Author’s Note: So Danger Prone was originally just supposed to be a oneshot, but a couple people seemed to want a part two and I honestly thought a part two would be great and now I’m already planning a third installment of this new series.

Trigger Warning(s): Car accident mention, being held at gunpoint mention, fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N thinks Jay is going to break up with her, but she couldn’t be more wrong. (Second part to Danger Prone, but you don’t really need to read that if you don’t want too, because this could be a standalone piece)

Y/N = Your Name

Y/LN = Your Last Name

Part One

Tag List: @jayxuptons​, @bethii1​, @tonio-dawson​, @drakelover78​ , @lorenakaspersen​ (want to be tagged in future chapters of this fic? leave a comment or shoot me a message!)

It was no secret to anyone how much you and Jay loved each other. You seemed perfect together and everyone thought so.

And that was what led him to act a little screwy lately. You couldn’t understand it, everything seemed so perfect and he seemed to love you and you were happy. And then he started acting weird around you. You were worried he was going to break up with you.

And that crushed you, after everything the two of you had been through, it absolutely devastated you just to think about him breaking up with you.

So you tried your hardest not to think about it. But it was obvious that something was bothering you. Everyone at the house noticed and that was what led your best friend to plop down in the chair next to you and give you that look.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Kelly asked, crossing his arms.

You did your best to muster up a smile and shake off your worries, but it was so obviously faked. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” You hated how your voice broke on the word ‘fine’

Kelly’s brows furrowed together and he shook his head. “Don’t give me that.” He unfolded his arms and leaned towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You sniffled at just the thought of what you were about to say. “I’m pretty sure Jay’s gonna break up with me.”

This shocked Kelly and it was obvious, he had only been joking when he asked if there was trouble in paradise, he didn’t actually think you and Jay would be having issues. “What are you talking about? He loves you.” The frown returned. “What would make you think that he’s going to break up with you?”

“He’s just been acting really weird lately and I can’t help but think it’s because he’s sick of me.” You told Kelly quietly, swallowing back your emotions.

“Why would you even think that? He’s lucky to have you.” Kelly told you, still frowning because this was preposterous.

“Yeah, right.” You rolled your tear filled eyes before wiping underneath them, trying to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks because you would not cry at work over some man. But it wasn’t some man, it was Jay Halstead, the love of your life...or who you thought was the love of your life.

“I’m serious.” Kelly told you with a huff.

“What’s so lucky about having a girlfriend who’s clumsy as hell and gets herself injured or almost killed every other month?” You asked him, annoyed and frustrated, but Kelly knew better than to take it to heart.

“It’s not every other month.” Kelly told you.

“Oh really? Two weeks ago I was in that car accident, two months ago I fell through a floor on a call, a month before that I was held at freaking gun point, and a few weeks before that I fell off your boat when we went out on the lake!” You huffed out, your voice raising and gaining the attention of some of your coworkers.

“The car accident and being held at gunpoint weren’t your fault. And any one of us could’ve fallen through the floor on that call, and...I have nothing to say about the boat incident because that really was you just being clumsy.” Kelly told you, a small smile forming on his face.

You looked at him and couldn’t even muster up enough energy to give him a fake smile. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.”

Kelly sighed and patted your shoulder. “Okay, well drinks on me at Molly’s tonight.” He told you as he stood up.

You shook your head. “I don’t think-”

“Uh-uh, not taking no for an answer.” Kelly told you. “And I’m not taking maybes either.”

You huffed and smiled a little bit at him before nodding. “Yeah okay.”

“Good.”

And just then the alarm went off signalling that there was a fire and you all were needed.

The call went by fairly smoothly, all things considered. It was fairly simple to be honest and when you guys got back to the house, it was time for your much earned R and R and you all were sent home.

“Molly’s. Tonight. Six.” Kelly told you, pointing at you as you walked to your newish car, the replacement to your old car that was totaled.

You gave him a thumbs up as you got into your car, smiling a bit and laughing before you drove home.

When you got to your apartment, you went to get some sleep before getting up around noon and cleaning some. Eventually, five rolled around and you decided you should probably start getting ready to meet Kelly at Molly’s.

Jay walked into Molly’s and saw Kelly sitting at a table, he walked over to him. “Hey can I talk to you for a second?” “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Kelly told him, motioning for him to take a seat across from him.

“Why’s that?” Jay asked, frowning a bit.

“Y/N seems to think you’re going to break up with her.” Kelly told him simply.

Jay seemed to be taken aback. “What? That’s ridiculous.” He frowned. “Why would she think that?”

“Apparently, according to her, you’ve been acting weird lately.” Kelly explained, leaning on the table. “So what’s going on? Are you cheating on her or something?”

“No, of course not.” Jay frowned even deeper. “I’ve just been trying to figure out the best way to ask her to marry me.”

Kelly was shocked by that answer. “Oh...wow.”

Jay nodded some. “So...any suggestions?”

Kelly paused for a moment. “Somewhere private.” He told him after some thought. “She hates people staring at her, and she’s a diehard romantic, but she would hate for it to be over the top.”

“Of course.” Jay nodded, chuckling a bit. “I know how she hates when people make a fuss over her.”

Kelly laughed a bit and nodded. “That’s true.”

The two of them fell silent for a moment.

“So, when are you gonna pop the question?” Kelly finally asked.

Jay hummed in thought. “Soon, especially since she thinks I’m going to break up with her.”

“Good idea.” Kelly nodded and saw you walk in from across the bar. “She’s here.”

Jay turned in his seat before getting up and walking over to meet you with a smile. “Hey.”

You looked at him and smiled. “Hey.” You said softly, trying not to let on that you thought your relationship was ending.

Jay wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked to the bar. “You got any plans tonight?”

“Well Kelly wanted to hang out here…” You shrugged a bit.

“And after?” Jay asked, looking at you.

You shrugged again. “I don’t know, why?”

“Maybe you could come over?”

You nodded slowly. “Okay…” You ordered yourself a drink and before you could pay for it, Jay had tossed some money down. “You didn’t have to buy my drink, I’m a big girl.”

Jay furrowed his brows. “And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay, and?” You asked, not looking at him as you picked up your drink.

“What do you mean ‘and’?” Jay asked, his frown deepening. “All I wanted was to buy my girl a drink, what’s so wrong with that?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Nothing.”

The frown didn’t leave his face. “Is something wrong?” Of course he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to let you know that he had talked to Kelly.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jay.” You huffed out. “I just had a bad day.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and went to walk past him.

“Woah wait.” Jay said, grabbing your hand in his to stop you.

You turned and finally looked at him. “What?”

Jay took your drink from your hand and set it on the bar. “Herrmann, can you watch these for us for a minute?” He asked and Herrmann nodded, next thing you knew Jay was pulling you outside.

“What are you doing?” You asked, frowning as you tried pulling your hand from his grip.

“We need to talk.” Jay told you, frowning.

You stopped in your tracks once you guys were outside, fear filling you because you thought you knew what was coming. He was going to break up with you. Your suspicions were right. “Okay.” You said after a moment, swallowing hard.

Jay turned to face you. “I love you.”

“Okay…” You said quietly. “But you’re breaking up with me?”

Jay shook his head. “No, I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Then why have you been acting so...different?” You asked, tears filling your eyes.

“Because I’m nervous.” Jay told you.

You looked at him. “Nervous? What for?”

“Because I love you and I want to ask you to marry me but I don’t know how.” Jay told you, hating that it came down to this.

You stopped, blinking a few times in shock. “You...want to marry me?”

“Of course I do.” Jay said softly.

You smiled wide. “Really?”

“Really.” Jay said softly, smiling as well. “So…?”

“So…?” You asked, looking at him.

“What do you say?” Jay asked softly.

Your smile turned to a smirk. “Well, you haven’t really asked me yet, so…”

Jay chuckled softly. “And I don’t really have the ring with me right now.” He said softly.

“You could still ask.” You told him softly.

Jay nodded a bit and knelt down. “Y/N Y/LN will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking up at you.

You grinned wide and nodded. “Of course.”

Jay stood up and gently pulled you in for a kiss. “I love you so much.” He said softly.

You smiled. “I love you too.” You whispered back.

“We should head back inside.” Jay said after a moment.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.” You agreed and nodded, turning to head back inside only for Jay to spin you back around and kiss you again.

“Okay, now we can head back inside.” Jay grinned.

You laughed softly and turned to head back inside again, picking your drink up from the bar and thanking Herrmann before heading over to where Kelly was sitting.

“Everything good?” Kelly asked, raising a brow at you.

You smiled wide. “Everything’s great.” Squeezing Jay’s hand, keeping the secret between the two of you for now, everyone else would know soon enough.

Kelly nodded and shared what seemed like a knowing look with Jay, but you couldn’t comment because Kim walked over. “There you are, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you doing since the accident?”

You smiled. “I’m doing good Kim, how’ve you been?” You asked her as she pulled you into a hug.

“Been good.”

You got roped into a conversation with her, glancing at Jay and Kelly, you’d question Jay about the look later on.

[10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat]

Selfies, Tea, and Photography

AO3

Pairing: Commander Fox x GN!Reader Pen Pal Fic

Premise: based off this post I made a while back where I mused on the concept of a clone/reader insert pen pal fic. Starting off with Fox based on a suggestion by @istanmyman

Word count: ~3.9k 

Rating: G

Other notes: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, apparently I can only write Thorn as Fox’s best bro and nosy wingman 

--

When you heard the news that the Grand Army of the Republic was starting up a correspondence program for troopers and civilians to connect and communicate, you immediately signed up for it. Not that your friends and family weren’t enough for you, it was just that you itched to learn more about the galaxy and what it was like to live and travel among the stars. Enrolling in the program was the closest you were going to get until you were able to travel yourself.

(That, and you were curious to learn more about the clones who were fighting for the Republic.)

Around a month after signing up for the program, you learned you were matched with CC-1010, also known as “Fox.” A few days after learning about your match, you received your first message from him.

Hello,

I am Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I am stationed on Coruscant, where I oversee the security of the Senate, manage operations at the military base on the planet, and coordinate with local authorities to maintain public safety. My fellow Guard Commanders and I are participating in this correspondence program to connect with Republic citizens we have sworn to protect and defend. I look forward to communicating with you.

Regards,

Commander Fox

His opening message was … something. It read like he didn’t want to be in the program, like his fellow Commanders may have forced him to do it with them. You also supposed he may have not known how else to introduce himself, and that was the best way he could think of to make a good first impression.

Regardless of the reason for his overly stiff and formal introduction, you wrote up your first message to Fox:

Hello Commander Fox, it’s nice to meet you!

I live on Naboo, in a small town in the lake country. I have a job in my grandmother’s tea shop. It’s not nearly as exciting as guarding Senators or catching bad guys, but it’s quiet and peaceful. I’m saving up to travel the galaxy one day, and until then the next best thing is talking with people like you who live in different places.

I do have some questions for you: what’s it like living on Coruscant? What do you do in your free time? Do you have any exciting stories about saving Senators from Separatists that you can share?

Hope to hear from you soon!

You signed with your name and sent the message.

A few days later, Fox sent his response. He greeted you by name in his opening line then went on to say:

Coruscant is loud, crowded, and messy. Feels like the planet never sleeps, with all the noise and lights at all hours of the day. My troopers and I live in barracks on the surface, and we don’t get much free time. Some of the boys like to go to this bar called 79’s that a lot of clones frequent. It’s not my favorite place, though. When I have free time, I like to relax with a good book, watch holodramas, or catch up on sleep. The work we do is important and a great service to the Republic, but a quiet peaceful life on Naboo with no excitement would be a welcome change of pace compared to my current station.

I haven’t rescued any Senators in the line of duty, but I did help Senator Amidala arrest Ziro the Hutt at the beginning of the war. I like Senator Amidala, she has a good head on her shoulders.

(She’s your Senator, isn’t she?)

I hope that’s what you were wanting to hear.

Looking forward to your response,

Commander Fox

You smiled to yourself as you read his message, and you imagined him in full armor laying back in a bed reading a book. Quiet, restful moments that you took for granted in your quiet life must have been sacred to a man like Fox.

The following day, you hiked out to the nearest lake to take pictures. You made sure to capture the lush green grass surrounding the lake, the colorful wildflowers growing along the shore, the sparkling crystal blue waters, and the majestic waterfalls that poured water into the lake. You made sure to include the pictures in the next message you wrote to Fox:

Senator Amidala is indeed from Naboo. She was our Queen too, back when I was younger. Everyone in my town loves her, and my grandma even has her royal portrait on display in the shop.

Not much has really happened since I last wrote to you. But I did go out and take some pictures of a nearby lake! The pictures are included with this message. I hope they can give you a small taste of my quiet life here.

--

Three weeks went by, and you hadn’t received a message from Fox. At first you figured he was busy with his duties. Then you worried that your pictures of the lake soured his mood, reminding him of something he couldn’t have. Then … you feared the worst.

One day after work, you went home and checked your message inbox on your computer. There was a message waiting for you from Fox. You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened it and read:

I’m sorry it took me so long to write you back. There was a bombing that took out the Senate’s power grid, and then a hostage crisis with bounty hunters, and then Ziro the Hutt escaped from prison. When I haven’t been scouring the city for Ziro or his accomplices, I have been neck-deep in paperwork.

Ironic, how right after I brag about helping bring Ziro into custody, he escapes.

I appreciate the pictures you sent me. Naboo looks like a beautiful planet. I would love to visit someday.

~ Fox

You took note of how he signed off with just his name, not his rank, and then you leaned back in your chair to mull over what to say to him. Your first idea was to invite him to visit Naboo once the war was over, but who knew when that would be. Unable to think of anything to say, you decided to come back to it later as you went about your evening.

The next day while you were at work, you served a customer some herbal tea that was supposed to have a relaxing effect. The customer didn’t stick around long enough for you to see if it worked, but you took a tin full of the loose-leaf tea home with you after your shift. You reviewed the rules of the correspondence program, confirming that it would be appropriate to send a package to Fox, and then you packaged the tea up and took it to the shipping depot to send to Coruscant.

Stars, shipping items to Coruscant was expensive. Fox better like that tea, you thought.

Hello Fox,

I don’t mind that you wrote late. I’m just glad that nothing happened to you.

That really is some rotten luck, Ziro escaping. I hope you or the Jedi catch him and take him back to prison. In the meantime, remember to rest and take care of yourself! Coruscant needs a great Commander like you looking out for it, and I like having you as my pen pal.

I sent you a package with some tea from the shop. It’s a relaxation blend. I haven’t tried it, but it’s popular with customers. It should arrive in the next rotation or two. Hope you like it.

Three days later you got his next message:

The tea is wonderful. I had a cup of it an hour before going to bed, and I had the best sleep of my life. Thank you.

~Fox

Short and sweet, but you couldn’t ask for more.

--

Over the following weeks you and Fox continued to exchange messages. The two of you discovered that you shared a common interest in a holodrama series and dedicated several messages to discussing it and predicting what might happen in the coming episodes. You sent him more pictures of the countryside and of your village, and he sent you pictures of the Coruscant skyline at sunset: the way the golden light of the sun glinted off the shining chrome towers was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, and it moved Coruscant up a few spots on your list of places to visit.

At one point you looked up pictures of the clones on the Holonet to get an idea of what Fox might look like. However, the only pictures of the troopers you could find showed them with their helmets on. The closest you could get was a ten-year-old picture of Jango Fett; Jango was ridiculously handsome, so it would stand to reason that Fox would be too.

Fox gradually began loosening up, and he shared stories about growing up on Kamino or shenanigans his brothers got into. He hinted at there being some interpersonal drama among some Senators, but he didn’t name names since he knew the supervisors of the correspondence program read his messages before sending them to you, to make sure he wasn’t divulging information he shouldn’t be.

Fox also asked you more questions about your life. You told him about your childhood, your relationship with your parents, how you got your job at your grandmother’s shop, about your friends that moved to Theed for work or university studies, and all the places in the galaxy you wanted to visit.

You mentioned wanting to see Felucia, and in his next message Fox included pictures of the planet’s colorful trees, plants, flowers, and shrubs – including a few at night, when the vegetation gave off a bioluminescent glow.

One of my fellow Commanders spends a lot of time doing missions on Felucia. I asked him for pictures to show you and he took these and sent them to me.

I’m trying to get him to join this correspondence program too, but he won’t agree to it. He spends a lot of time with his Jedi, maybe that’s enough for him.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about not having a Jedi. I think about how some of them seem like a pain to work with and that it might not be worth the trouble, but then I see other Jedi treat the men under their command as friends or even family.

Which is why I’ve come to appreciate your messages. When I get them, they’re the highlight of my day. For a brief amount of time I feel like a normal person. I’ve never met you face-to-face, I don’t even know what you look like, but I consider you a friend.

~Fox

Getting pictures of Felucia from Fox made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. What he said about feeling like a normal person did as well, but it broke your heart at the same time. You wanted to stow away on a ship to Coruscant to give him a hug, and then go kick the behinds of anyone who ever made him feel bad about himself. Especially since he and his brothers worked so hard to keep people safe … it was a crime that they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved.

You snapped a picture of yourself to include in your next message, making sure the lighting and angle were just right so you looked your best. It also helped that you just happened to be wearing a color that you thought you looked good in.

Thank you for the pictures of Felucia! When I look at them it’s almost like I’m actually there. Please pass my gratitude along to your brother who took them.

I think of you as a friend too. I’m grateful to have you defending the Republic, and I’m glad to have you as my pen pal.

I don’t have much to offer you right now, other than a picture of me. At least now you can know what I look like.

You sent the message with the picture, leaned back in your chair, and watched the monitor of your computer. You knew that Fox wasn’t going to write back that same night, but you imagined him opening the message, reading your words, seeing your picture, and smiling the way his message made you smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Were you developing a crush on him?

…

…

Then again, so what if you were? You didn’t have to tell him, you could hide it. He was parsecs away on another planet. And he was a clone; would he even be allowed to date if he wanted to? Nothing would or could come of it. If a crush was forming, with any luck it would go away on its own. But that didn’t stop you from double-checking how many credits you had in your savings and comparing that number to the cost for a ticket to Coruscant.

--

Four days went by during which you went about your usual business, often distracted by thoughts of Fox how his day might have been going. Maybe he was chasing Separatists or criminals around, or maybe he was buried under another mound of paperwork. You wondered if he caught the newest episode of the holodrama you both liked; you couldn’t wait to talk about it with him. That little crush you were sure would fade away wasn’t going anywhere, and it both delighted and frustrated you.

The first thing you did after you got home from your shift was check your messages. It had become routine at this point, especially since a new message from him easily became the highlight of your day. However, the message in your inbox – presumably from Fox – was not what you thought it would be:

Greetings, Fox’s Pen Pal!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but Fox has it BAD for you. I’ve been watching him write these messages to you and hemming and hawing around the barracks and his office making sure he gets every word just right. He’s got your pictures of the lakes and fields on Naboo framed on the wall of his office, he drank all that tea you sent him and he still keeps the tin on his desk right next to your selfie. And if you knew the amount of favors he had to cash in to get our brother Bly to get those pictures of Felucia for you! (it’s a lot, trust me)

Anyway, I thought you ought to know. I told him to make a move and be honest about his feelings but he’s shy. So even though I might be overstepping some boundaries, I feel like it’s my brotherly duty to intervene on his behalf. If there’s a chance you might feel the same way, you should tell him. If you don’t, proceed how you will but please go easy on him.

If it influences your decision-making process at all, I included a picture of him. He’s a good-looking guy if I do say so myself, although he’s not as handsome as me 😉

Yours truly,

Commander Thorn

PS – please don’t tell Fox that I wrote you using his account.

You sat at your computer, staring blankly at the words on the screen, taking minutes to process what you just read … and then you remembered there was a picture attached to the message, so you opened up the attachment.

Jango Fett may have been handsome, but Fox was gorgeous. He looked like he was in his early- or mid-twenties, although there were wisps of gray hair above his ears by his temples. His hair was cropped close along the sides and longer on top, and you took a minute to admire his curl pattern. He wasn’t smiling in the picture, his face wearing a more neutral resting expression that showed off the scar running along the corner of his mouth. Finally, you noticed his eyes: framed by dark circles, his irises were a deep, inviting shade of brown. What would it be like to look into his eyes in person, or run your hands through his hair, or trace his scar with your thumb before you went in to –

You stopped yourself. You were getting carried away. Heat rose up the back of your neck and across your cheeks.

For the rest of the evening you mulled over what to do next. You knew you wanted to tell him that you liked him too … but doing it over a message didn’t feel like enough. Turning up unannounced was a bad idea too. Would he even want you to show up in person? And since you didn’t have his contact information outside of the correspondence program, you didn’t have a way to call him for a face-to-face talk via holotransceiver.

Unsure of what to do, you fired off a message as soon as the fleeting idea for it popped into your brain. Would you regret it? Maybe. Only one way to find out.

Hi Fox,

I want to come visit you on Coruscant. When will you be free?

It only took a few minutes for him to respond, but it felt like hours. The entire time your heart pounded furiously in your chest, and you bounced your leg up and down since you could barely contain your jitters inside your body. There was a chance he would say no, Thorn did say he was shy after all. But when his message came through, you opened it immediately, and all the jitters melted away.

I see you got Thorn’s message … lucky for us he’ll be available to cover for me when I’m off-duty to host you. Let me know when you’re coming.

Your mouth instantly spread into a grin … you could hardly believe it. It hardly seemed real, even as you opened up a Holonet page to book a roundtrip ticket.

--

Four rotations later, your transport came into orbit around Coruscant. A shuttle took you from the transport down to the planet’s surface, and you were in awe of the densely-packed constellations of lights twinkling up from the planet’s surface. Descending into the atmosphere, those lights morphed into buildings, and lanes upon lanes of speeder traffic, and seemingly endless grids of buildings. At one point you saw several buildings whose architecture differed from the others; the pilot pointed them out and said they were the Senate Complex and the Jedi Temple, respectively.

You disembarked from the shuttle and paused to look around. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. Not a speck of green in sight, no signs of nature, just duracrete and grays upon grays as far as the eye could see. And it was loud, just like Fox said it was, with the revving engines and blasting horns from speeders breezing by above your head.

You checked your wrist chrono, seeing that you had two hours until you were due to meet Fox at 79’s. Next, you pulled a datapad out of your bag that contained a map of the planet’s surface and studied how to get from your current position to the hotel you booked for your stay. The hotel was only a couple of blocks from the bar – not that you had certain expectations for this trip or anything, you thought it would be easier to stay nearby.

All in all, it took one hour and fifty minutes to get from the shuttle landing pad to the hotel to drop off your things, and then another eight to get from the hotel to 79’s. In your rush and panic as you navigated Coruscant’s taxi and public transportation systems, you didn’t have time to be too nervous about meeting Fox in person for the first time. But as you walked up to the entrance of the bar with its painfully bright neon signs and the muffled music spilling out from inside, it all hit you.

You took off to a strange planet by yourself to see a man you only knew through messages. If your grandmother had her way she would have stopped you from going. What if he didn’t like you after the trip … what if you didn’t like him? What if something went wrong?

But then you saw him standing by the entrance to the bar, recognizing him by his red-painted armor and the gray hairs above his ears and the thick curls on top of his head that you admired so much. He was surveying the area with a soldier’s laser-sharp focus, perhaps looking for your arrival, and he clutched a small bouquet of colorful flowers to his chest. When his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a smile, the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Your worries seemed to matter less as you broke into a brisk jog to meet him.

“Fox?” you asked, smiling yourself.

“Indeed,” he responded before he handed the flowers to you. “I- uh- I got you these.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you said. No one had ever gotten you flowers before; in the past it didn’t seem like anything to miss out on, but now that you held a bouquet in your arms, you felt special. Treasured, even.

“And, uh, as for the venue ….” Fox’s voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the bar’s garishly bright neon signs.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, trying to be reassuring.

“I’m not allowed in most places, even when I’m off-duty … and I would have liked to take you somewhere nicer ….” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. You could hear in his voice just how nervous he was.

“Because … well … you’re special to me. In a way no one else in my life is.”

You smiled at him again, and then wasted no time in leaning forward and pressing your lips to his cheek. It felt right to kiss him like that, but when you pulled back and saw him staring at you in shock and awe, you worried that it was too much too soon.

“C-can I …” he stammered. You nodded, and he angled his face so he could return the gesture. His lips were surprisingly soft against the skin of your cheek, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel or taste like on your own lips.

There would be time for that later, you reminded yourself, if all went well.

“Does this place have food?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Drinks?”

“Well it is a bar … they have non-alcoholic drinks too, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Then it’s got everything I need. I don’t know what I would do with myself at a fancy restaurant anyway.”

“I imagine a restaurant would be quieter and allow for some proper conversation … but Thorn told me about a spot inside where we’ll be able to talk and hear each other without having to shout over the music.” Fox added.

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile.

Fox offered his arm to you and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep just above his elbow so he could lead you into the bar. Throughout the evening any time your eyes met his you felt safe, like you were the only person in the universe, and that you needed to figure out a way to make regular visits to Coruscant.

No matter what, you would always be glad you got Fox as a pen pal, and that you came to visit him. Especially since it was more fun to rant and rave about the newest episode of the holodrama in person.