#REALLY THOUGH‚ IT'S ALWAYS NICE TO SEE AN OLD PAL OF MINE!

[fraterfalls]

Hey bill what do you think of this guy

(Im sorry i had to)

YEAH

[deus-ex-mona]

there’s a non-non-zero chance of success though… _(:3 」∠)_

[vigilskeep]

you gonna check out Vows & Vengeance? Would love to get your first impression/takes on it

yeah i listened to ep 1 this morning!! one comment without context: the line “more or less” made me choke on my drink

some comments with spoilery context under the cut:

nadia & elio are fine, i wish their dialogue was a little less uhhh self-aware and expository (“we are having an argument and this is exactly how i feel and i will explain why my backstory is responsible! now i will state your character flaws clearly out loud for the audience!”) that’s a pet peeve of mine. they and their relationship feel a bit generic to me overall. like i say they’re just kind of fine

i guess i did enjoy that nadia’s right and elio does act like a magister and immediately try to solve problems like a magister when they come up. i always like when there’s a new character and the things they say ring true for where they’re coming from, it makes them feel uhhh rooted in the world? i suppose tevinter social class being plot relevant at all is nice in terms of just knowing they’re grounding things in the established lore

people announcing their spells by name so that you know what’s going on was deeply goofy i can’t decide whether or not i loved it

neve attempting to freeze an entire fucking bay to stop a boat and only failing because a magister cast his way out was insane. i said this about her protective dome in the initial gameplay reveal, but she is doing magic on a level we simply have not seen

ummmmm i liked the appearance from our good old wolf pal. it’s funny i feel like i’ve gotten much more fond of him lately. but at the same time whenever we’re not seeing him from an inquisition inner circle member’s perspective i kind of re-learn the way i saw him when he killed felassan at the end of the masked empire. the way i see him when he’s not the guy the inquisition knows, you know? he seems more dangerous and unpredictable to me when we’re looking through a different set of eyes than as one of the people he had to interact with for so long and deal with as people rather than merely obstacles to his greater purpose. i don’t inherently trust him or put anything past him in the same way when he’s dealing with someone he doesn’t have that uh soft spot for

though that “i’m sorry” when things went bad seems demonstrative of the effect dai had on him. it’s not exactly the response of a man who can still convince himself these aren’t really people. anyway no idea what happened in that funny little ritual but rip to another of his a+ plans. you’ll get there one day buddy

not entirely convinced at all that it’s really elio that nadia is hearing 😬

the idea that a person in tevinter hears the words “the hinterlands” and immediately knows it means the hinterlands in ferelden (which i can only assume is what it means) is so stupid i was genuinely taken aback like be serious jsgsjsjsk

[corroded-hellfire]

Okay okay so dad!Eddie picking up his kid after preschool instead of Reader and taking them out for ice cream as a treatttt? ily wifey

Anything for you, my darling! So glad that you love dad!eddie just as much as I do! 💖

Words: 1.8k

“Surprise, baby.”

The hands on your hips startle you, making your husband chuckle against your ear. He slides his hands around to your front and tugs your body back against his.

“What’re you doing home?” you ask.

“Slow day at work,” Eddie says, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Figured I’d take the afternoon off and spend it with my family.”

Grinning, you spin around in his arms, and reach up to cup his cheeks. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest man ever?”

“That’s what they say,” Eddie retorts with a wink. 

“Well, I was just about to leave to pick up the little troublemaker,” you say. “But I think he’d like it if his Daddy showed up instead.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, the most adorable expression on his face. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you say with a laugh. “But watch out for those moms.” You pout, holding a finger up at him. “They all think you’re hot and you’re mine.”

“Like any of them could compare to you,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Should we go out to dinner tonight?”

“Spoiling us today, aren’t you?” you ask with a smirk. “Sounds nice, though.”

Giving you one last kiss, Eddie pats your ass, making you squeal as he pulls away. “Maybe tonight we’ll try and give the rugrat a little sister.” Before you can respond—a flush coming to your face—he throws you a wink and is heading out the front door. Eddie could be a menace, but he knows you love it. 

The halls of the small school are loud as Eddie makes his way to his son’s classroom. There’s a small crowd surrounding the classroom door, mostly of mothers waiting to pick up their small children. 

“Eddie, right?”

Eddie turns his head to see a vaguely familiar looking woman with short black hair, giving him a blindingly bright smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving a polite smile in return. He really hopes she doesn’t expect him to remember her or her child because he’s coming up short. 

“I’m Eva. Andy’s mom.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding his head. He’s almost positive he’s never heard her nor Andy’s names before.

“Your wife is usually here, right?”

Obviously, since I’m not, he thinks. 

“She sure is. Figured I’d come get the little one today,” he says. 

“That’s so sweet,” Eva coos. “You’re such a good dad.”

I mean, he’s my kid too, Eddie thinks. 

Thankfully, the classroom door opens, saving Eddie from having to come up with a response. Over a dozen tiny humans pour out of the room, scattering like ants to find their parents. A joyful and familiar gasp greets Eddie’s ears.

“Daddy!”

“Jack!” Eddie grins and scoops his son up in his arms, peppering kisses all over his face. He’s distantly aware that some moms are watching him, and he’s not sure whether he should tell you about it to say that you’re right, or to ignore it so you don’t get that little nerve twitch in your eye that happens when you get jealous. 

“I missed you!” Jack wraps his little arms around Eddie’s neck, making his heart swell. The four-year-old pulls back to look at his dad. 

“I missed you too, pal,” Eddie says. “How was school?”

“S’good,” Jack says as Eddie places him back down on the ground. He reaches his little hand up and grabs onto his father’s. “We learned a new song. And then we got to color, and I stayed mostly in the lines this time.” 

Eddie can’t help but beam as his son chatters on about his day, leading his dad by the hand towards the exit of the school. Once they get to the car, Eddie picks Jack up again, pressing a few more kisses to his face as the little boy giggles.

“Daddyyyy!”

Ceasing his attack, Eddie chuckles and smooths down the light brown curls adorning his son’s head. His hair might be a little lighter than his dad’s, but his eyes are that same intense brown that has mom melting with a simple look, just like she’s always done with dad. 

“Let’s get you buckled in, yeah?” Eddie sets Jack’s small backpack down on the seat and helps Jack get situated in his booster seat. Unable to resist pressing another kiss to his boy’s head, Eddie does so one more time before getting into the driver’s seat. “I was thinking. How would you feel about getting some ice cream?”

Jack’s eyes light up, making Eddie grin from where he can see him in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes!” Jack squeals. 

Eddie turns the radio on as he pulls out of the parking lot. Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train is playing and as Eddie begins to sing along, he hears Jack attempting to sing along, mostly babbling along to the general tune of the song. A glance in the mirror sees Jack shaking his head around as well, an honorable attempt at head banging for a toddler. When Eddie parks in front of the ice cream parlor, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns around to face Jack, playing the air guitar to the song. The little boy giggles and starts to flail his hands around in a good imitation of air drumming. The song ends and Eddie lets out a deep breath. 

“Ready?” he asks his son.

“Ready!”

Getting out of the car, Eddie scoops his son out of the backseat and holds him up over his head. 

“Super Jack!” Eddie calls. The toddler holds his tiny fists in front of him like Superman soaring through the skies. Grinning, Eddie lowers him and holds the boy on his hip as he steps into the ice cream shop. “Okay, what flavor do you want?” 

Jack hums as his big brown eyes take in the wide variety in front of him. Eddie can practically see the drool leaking from his mouth. “Stwawberry!”

“Strawberry,” Eddie repeats. “Sounds good. Sprinkles?” Jack turns his head to give his father a look of, “duh.” Eddie chuckles and rubs his hand against his son’s stomach. “Right, right.”

Once Eddie has his cone of mint chocolate chip and Jack has his strawberry with sprinkles, the two sit across from one another in a red vinyl booth in the 50’s themed parlor. 

“How was school?” Eddie asks. 

“Good,” Jack says, little legs kicking underneath the table.

“What did you do?”

“Dunno,” Jack answers.

“You don’t know?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “You telling me that I send you to preschool everyday just for you to come home and forget everything you did? Are they brainwashing you?” Jack giggles and shakes his head. “They hypnotizing you?” The little boy continues giggling even though he’s not sure what “hypnotizing” means. But it’s his daddy joking with him, so he’s going to laugh. 

“Had show and tell,” Jack says after another bite of ice cream. “I showed the buttons you put on my backpack.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a grin. “How’d the rugrats like the Iron Maiden and Megadeth pins?”

“They liked Casey’s pet bunny better,” Jack says with an adorable pout. 

“Kids got no taste,” Eddie says, shaking his head. 

“Daddy?”

“Jack?”

“I want—.”

“A bunny?” Eddie interrupts. “Sorry, pal. I don’t think so.”

“No,” Jack says. “S’not what I want.”

“What is it then? More ice cream? We’re going out to dinner with Mommy, so no more.”

“I want a baby sister.”

Eddie almost chokes on the lick he just took of the bright green ice cream. “What?”

“Brian brought pictures of his new baby sister,” Jack says of his best friend. “He told us all about her and I want one.” 

“Jesus, you and I are more alike than we already knew,” Eddie mumbles under his breath before addressing his son. “Uh, I’ll talk with Mommy about it, okay?”

“K,” Jack says as he finishes up his ice cream. “Brian says his Mommy carried the baby anyway. So yeah, ask.”

Eddie chuckles, knowing his son is envisioning his mother holding a baby in her arms, instead of how Brian’s mother carried the kid’s baby sister. 

Eddie carefully opens the front door, balancing his sleeping son in his arms. Whether it was the sugar rush or the lulling drive home, Jack had passed out halfway to the house. Quietly shutting the door behind them, Eddie presses a kiss into Jack’s curls. Padding softly down the hall towards the little boy’s bedroom, Eddie meets you coming out of your shared room.

“Hey,” you whisper, smiling at the toddler tucked up in your husband’s arms. Eddie rests his head against the soft curls and throws you a wink.

“Hey, gorgeous. Looks like all the excitement from having Dad pick him up has worn him out.”

“Either that or a sugar high,” you say. Eddie’s eyes widen and before he can open his mouth, you laugh and gesture to where a pink splotch has smooshed against Eddie’s shirt from your son’s. “Strawberry, huh?”

“What a messy rugrat,” Eddie says with a sigh. He smooths down some of his curls, gazing down fondly at the sleeping boy. 

“Like father, like son,” you tease. 

“Oh, more than you know,” Eddie says with a smirk. Raising an eyebrow at him, you follow him to Jack’s room. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? The moms at school aren’t flirting with him too, are they? Because then I have serious concerns.”

Eddie huffs a laugh as he lays Jack down on his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle blanket. 

“No,” he says as he stands back up. “Though apparently Andy’s mom knows me for some reason. Ah, there’s the twitch of the eye! Anyway, no, your son told me he wants something today. Something I very recently told you I’d like as well.”

“And what might that be?” you ask, following Eddie as he walks out of the bedroom. 

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”

“Since when have you ever lied to me?”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he walks into the kitchen. He turns around to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Jack told me he wants a baby sister.” Your eyes widen, making Eddie laugh. “Swear to God. He said Brian brought in pictures of his baby sister and now he wants one.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you decide to throw a curveball at Eddie. “Okay. Come on.” You turn on your heel and stroll out of the kitchen.

“What?” Eddie asks, following you into the hallway.

“Do you want to get started or no?” You look down at your watch. “We’ve probably got half an hour before he wakes up. Want to get a move on it, or what? Babies don’t make themselves.”

“Shit, yeah!” Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, practically throwing you into your bedroom. Your laughter crackles through the house, but Eddie puts a hand over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Or am I going to have to put that mouth to use?”

[sui-imi]

[OLD Q&A] Roo answers some stuff

Hello! A month or so ago, I had Roo answer some questions on twitter. I decided that it'd also be good to archive most of them here, so you guys can learn a bit more :] (some of it is kind of important?? i think... haha)

Click here to read the original tweet and all responses.

NOTE: answers are in character! Therefore, all questions below were answered by Roo! (undereats!sans)

edited: august 2024 (to fix small lore inaccuracies)

Qs & As under readmore! (warning: long post)

[names listed below are twitter users' URL.]

[Q from LazeroFox] Is there any place that you can’t really go? Like an au that’s destroyed-

[ROO] depends. if you know an AU's coordinates, the bike can create a portal for you. and when we receive orders, the customer's details are automatically sent to our phones.

[ROO] but if an AU's destroyed, it'll either send you to the void, or it won't create a portal at all.

---

[Q from mmm99tunas] Does Roo ever get a break? What does he spend his hard-earned Gs on? (aside from gallons of BBC sauce)

[ROO] oh yeah. i get loads of nap time inbetween rounds. just punch in some random cords, hide somewhere and snooze a bit. it's the easy life.

[ROO] (though technically that's not allowed so don't tell my boss)

[ROO] as for my G, usually i spend it at grillby's 2. it's hella good.

---

[Q from Malina_Vivvivu] Is there a place Roo hates delivering at :∆?

[ROO] hah... haha... hahaha....

[ROO] the doodlesphere, for one. and those evil sanses. i feel like i age 10 years everytime they're on my delivery list.

[ROO] why are they so violent?? they're the ones who ordered the food???

[M] They like playing before eating ((:

[ROO] is it playing or bullying??? i swear, it's like they only start when i arrive...

---

[Q from bl4ck_st4rs] What do you do if you mess up someone’s order? (pick up the wrong one or spill/drop it)

[ROO] woah now. i would never mess up a valued customer's order like that. who do you take me for?

[ROO] but if i did...

[ROO] you just gotta grovel. make 'em think you're gonna die if they don't forgive you. not that i'd ever mess up.

[* He looks shifty eyed.]

---

[Q from sweetnad_uwu] Hi Roo! The traveling moped u have, the only way anyone can get one is if they work to the same company you do? Or is there any other way to get it?

[ROO] hiya. and yep. gotta be a UE driver for the magic bike.

[ROO] the boss is REAL good at keeping track of 'em. they've never left a bike unaccounted for, and they always know when i "accidentally" break mine.

[ROO] feels like they're all-seeing or something. freaks me out.

---

[Q from AnnoyingFox20] dear roo,if you met an actual a person that charming and wise,nice,so caring do you consider to be your bf in your life? 😏😏😏

[ROO] sorry pal. spot's taken.

[* He's fiddling with a bottle.]

[ROO] his name's arbiter. he's real chill, owns the condiment hall. sells the best bbq sauce in the multiverse.

[* It seems he's mistaken 'bf' for 'bbq finder'...]

---

[Q from ZippyDoZane] Zane: Do you deliver to far off kingdoms? Also eh heh heh if you do could you stay for a bit? I got board games that we can play. The king will give you a big tip if you do eh heh heh.

[ROO] "UnderEats - if you can order it, we can deliver it!"

[ROO] ...that's not actually the slogan. it's actually...

[ROO] "UnderEats - tip the drivers, and they'll be your best buds!"

[ROO] ... so what time should i come over?

---

[Q from jasper2450] Have the bad guys ever wrecked your motorcycle?

[ROO] (cough) er... technically THEY didn't wreck it. but if they force me to use it, it's kind of their fault right??

[ROO] i mean, i always tell them, "don't make me use my special attack". and what do they do? they make me use it.

[ROO] so yes. it's their fault.

---

[Q from KaylaTSkeleton] is there anywhere roo likes delivering to?

[ROO] any AU where i can deliver food without being put in a whacky situation is good enough for me.

[ROO] i'm fond of underswap right now. swap papyrus is a real pain in the coccyx, but if i snitch to blue, it always pisses him off. hehehehe.

[ROO] plus they always tip well.

---

[Q from zeni_zetty] have you ever get Chase by simp???...

[ROO] huh? who? (what's a simp???)

[ROO] i mean, i HAVE been chased before. but i don't remember anyone specifically, except those bad sanses.

[ROO] ...do i even WANT to remember?? don't chase innocent workers please...

---

[Q from necropathy_] Do you have any destinations/AUs that you don't mind/prefer delivering to?

[ROO] underswap, outertale, dancetale...

[ROO] and uh... horror AUs. well, they don't really order. but sometimes food just. slips out of my bag whilst i'm passing through.

[ROO] uh. don't tell the boss. we have this whole non-intervention policy, so...

---

[Q from SolarPhoenix7] I know you probably deliver a lot of different foods, but what's your own favorite dish?

[ROO] anything bbq flavoured is delish.

[ROO] by the way. you ever been to grillby's 2? their burgers are to die for. tho honestly i could eat just about anything and enjoy it.

[ROO] as long as it's not mtt food. no idea how they own so many stores across the multiverse. 0 stars.

---

[Q from Greedy621] Hi! Do you ever getting weird requests other than food delivery?

[ROO] the app is only designed for food delivery, so not particularly. but it does has a messaging feature. which is used... creatively... by some people.

[ROO] if anyone ever sends you a pic on there, don't open it. i promise you it's not worth it.

[G] Ok, now I’m curious what kind of pictures have you saw to made you give this advice.

[* He looks like he's remembering something unpleasant...]

[ROO] sorry, client confidentially. trust me... you REALLY don't wanna know.

[new-royston-cursebreakers]

(I am Hopping in your Asks for the character pen pal game! This letter is from Tooth to Cricket)



Dear Cricket,

Hello, my name is Tooth! In case you wanted to know, I picked out that name myself! I’m 11 years old and I’m 5 feet and 2 inches. I heard you’re 1 foot tall, but I’m finding that really hard to beleive. But I guess I don’t really have room to say that cause I can speak to ghosts. 👻

My school is making us write letters to pen pals and I thought your name sounded interesting because I love bugs! My friends are named Spider, Beetle, and Bee. You could fit right in! My favorite bugs are 🪲 stag beetles, rolly-pollies, and cicadas (I like to scare my brother Morgana with their skins). Here’s a fun fact: some cicadas spend 17 years underground for a huge chunk of their life, which is longer than I’ve been alive! What are your favorite bugs/bug facts? 👀

Do you want to hear about the gang me and my friends made? Too bad! >:p We play with ghosts and sometimes even help them pass on if they’re nice enough to tell us stories. Places like shut down parks, 🏫 schools, or wearhouses are the best place to find ghosts! Personally, if I was a ghost, I wouldn’t want to die somewhere I knew would become empty and boring. Maybe at a 7 11 where everyone goes so that it won’t be hard to find me.

Anyway, I hope you see this letter and I hope I labeled it correctly!

From,

Tooth 🦷

Hi Tooth!

Glad to report that you labeled that letter correctly! Now let’s hope that I did, too. I like your name, too. I didn't get to pick mine, it was just a nickname from my parents that stuck, but I wouldn't pick anything else. I got it because I can imitate a cricket chirp perfectly! Anyway, I’m glad to hear from you! I was afraid I’d get a letter in the program from someone boring who only wants to know why I’m so small and nothing else.

To get that out of the way: yes, I am small! I’m 14 years old and a bit taller than 11 inches. It’s funny what people will believe when it comes to magic and the supernatural. My friend, Auster, runs an apothecary with his family, and they’ll get people calling them snake oil salesmen and calling his magic a hoax—in the cursed town! But I guess it’s different when it’s right in front of you. In fact, I was a bit skeptical when you mentioned ghosts, but then I took a step back and figured that maybe New Royston just doesn’t have a lot of ghosts. Though there have been some spooky things going on, so maybe I just can’t see or hear them. Got any tips?

Anyway! Yes, I love bugs, and I’m so glad to have a pen pal who also likes bugs! I’ve never met a stag beetle, but my friend Monty’s family’s farm raises rolly-pollies! Among other bugs: crickets, dragonflies, and a couple others. I’ve never met a cicada either since the last time our brood emerged was in 1996, so I’ll have to wait a few years yet. I do wish you wouldn’t scare your brother with their skins, since so many people just crush bugs when they see them because they’re scared and so many people think I’m crazy for liking bugs or make faces at me when I try to talk about bugs, but I can understand the temptation. Monty and I scared some people in our elementary school with dragonfly nymphs when we were little. My favorite bug fact is that some ants are farmers. They’ll grow crops of fungus and keep cattle in the form of aphids since they secrete sugar.

I can understand wanting to die somewhere where there’d be a lot of activity. I get pretty lonely with my parents not home a lot, and I wouldn’t want to feel that kind of loneliness forever. Maybe, if I could choose where to die, I’d die at the school, so I could always listen in as generations of students pass through. This school’s been here for hundreds of years, and it’s the only high school in town, so I doubt it’d be abandoned anytime soon. But at the same time, I catch glimpses of those ghost shows with those people walking around screaming “Hello?! Is anyone there?! Show yourself! AAHH DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?!?” and I just feel bad for the ghost. I wouldn’t wanna be annoyed like that all the time. I guess ghosts have it rough no matter which way you spin it!

It’s really nice that you help them pass on. Like I wrote, I don’t think New Royston has a lot of ghosts, but just in case, how do you go about contacting and helping ghosts? Doesn’t it ever get dangerous, like if they’re mad? Also you said you play with ghosts, so what kinds of games can ghosts play? I imagine they’d be way too overpowered in a game like hide and seek. They could just go between two walls and they’d never get found!

Anyway, thanks for writing to me. Hope to read more from you soon!

Cricket

[kochlandhomestead]

10/01/22

Wow did September really just fly by like that? Feels like just 2 weeks ago I was doing this for August but heres my self accountability post for the end of the 9th month of 2022

Lets start with the ol resale business. Historical Days was a big success. I got rid of a lot of my old stock from the shed and made a nice profit on the weekend. Really wish I could get to more festivals and markets. That was a goal for this year that I am failing at. eBay had gone cold since the first week of September but I had 3 sales this week. With 4th quarter starting now hopefully it will be getting even better. I learned a lot last week at eBay open, lets see if I can transform that into sales. I also am looking into a booth at a local flea market that is open on Fridays. Possibly going to open there in November. Its a risk and a big step but it just may be time.

Classes started Monday in my Ag science and organic growing classes. Its been a challenge this week but I feel im back in the flow. I even got my first week assignment done early, y'all know thats a big one for me.

Things around the Homestead are winding down into what I refer to as hibernation time. The garden is ready to be put to bed, hopefully I get to that nexg week. Pears and apples need picked. Gotta dig potatoes yet and see how that harvest is. Lots of little things but its about over.

I didn't have a single Wrestling show this month. We did do our company picnic last Saturday but besides that nothing. The quiet is killing me. October has a couple but November is really bare. Gotta do something about this.

My TV back log has gotten worse. Im weeks behind on Wrestling. Its really ridiculous lol. I haven't watched any of She-Hulk or House Of Dragons. Seems everyday I add on another episode or 5 of the network shows that I try to catch as much of as possible like FBI or Law & Order. I haven't even seen the new Thor yet. I am caught up on Andor of course and am still working through my rewatch of Fear the walking dead. For someone that completely cut the cord this list is nuts!

Speaking of cutting the cord lets discuss my "off grid" life as it is. So many projects and ideas I had for the summer went unstarted. I really had hoped to have a little wood stove set up but not even close. I did get a bucket washing machine built for hand washing and of course my water collection system grew nicely. But still im way behind even though im far better than I was last year at this time.

My health has been good and ive really been doing well at eating. Im near my calorie goal almost everyday. Cooler weather really helps as does less time spent working outside. Now to finally start regular workouts again.

With just a month to go its time to start really planning and working on the upcoming holiday season here and at the Santa House. All while trying to enjoy spooky season too. Its a juggling act sometimes.

The personal life thing is pretty much as wacky as always. Mom and Dad have both been doing good. Dad has a bum shoulder but he says it is feeling a little better. Tyler has been coming around a little bit more now that he has Whiskey to take out. She sure is a cutie and becoming a good pal of mine. I been thinking again about a new cat or dog. Maybe near Christmas? My special person and myself have had a difficult time of getting together. Always seems to be something come up. Its hard with busy lives and a bit of a distance between us. We have plans for next Saturday so hopefully.... It was great to hang out with the Wrestling family last week, tomorrow I get more of that plus the Town Meeting crew. Having a small social life is sad at times but it makes me enjoy it more when it happens. A goal for 2023 is more interaction with friends and family and less alone time!

I think thats enough for tonights book. If you made it through thanks for reading. These things are always kinda hard for me to do but I really feel that they along with you who do read help me keep myself in check.

[whythewords]

East Coast State of Mind

Another entry in the midst of inter-province travel from our resident jet-setter (not really). I tap this into my phone mid-flight back from a week-long trip to Nova Scotia to visit a very good friend and his family. A few old pals of mine who grew up together headed over there last year as well, and one of them had already been going for a few years prior so it seems we're turning this into something of a tradition, which I am all for.

There was typical east coast merriment of the seafood, rural charm and "overall chill vibes" variety. I believe I've mentioned more than once on here that I would be more than open to a new job/home/life out on the east coast, and that thought hasn't really left my brain (though it has varied in its intensity over the years).

Unfortunately that means that I'm still in a weird place with my current gig, clearly pining for something better, higher paying, affording me the ability to afford my own home.

I got together with another childhood friend a few days before departing, my friend Matt who I've spoken about and is now not only making his living mostly as a musician, but also happens to be a married and housed man. In a bit of an unexpected twist, he spoke to me on the merits of renting. We sort of agreed that it's likely just a "grass is always greener" situation, but more and more the concept of renting a place just to get out of my current environment is seeming like a good overall decision for my mental health. If I could get into a position where I could rent a place, but still have some sort of investment on the side that's still growing, it may be worth it.

But that's the rub: my tolerance for my current job is waning fast, my capacity to deal with living at home has been chipped away at significantly already, and my overall dismay with dating and romantic prospects is at an all-time high. Unfortunately, that sentence is sort of a perfect summation of the majority of my entries here for the last year...or more.

I went on one more actual date since the last post which ended awkwardly and it was abundantly clear that a second date wasn't in the cards. Fortunately nothing jarring, just no real connection. But it hung me up as these situations often do. I hung on to the app as I had made a pact recently to try not to get too discouraged and give up altogether when these things happen, but I've reexamined my prospects and taken an admittedly apathetic approach to the whole thing since. Didn't bother with pursuit. Some matches came in, no real effort on their parts so I responded in kind, with no effort. One other slightly more interesting prospect slid in before wrapping up my time in Nova Scotia and a nice little repartee has formed, so we'll do what we always do: see where it goes.

Being that these entries lean heavy on the side of gloom and doom, I think it's important to go back to an old trope of this little journal and talk about some things that I'm thankful for. For starters this trip was great, just what the doctor ordered. I definitely needed time away from my apartment with my folks and from the job. And of course time with friends (especially ones you haven't seen in a while) is time well spent. I also joined up with a local songwriting competition and just found out that I have advanced to the semi-finals and get to perform again at Port Credit Buskerfest a little later this month, and that's really exciting! I've been wanting to lean more heavily into my music stuff like I used to and this is a golden opportunity to do so, and it came at the right time. Finally, I did something I should have done a long-ass time ago and pulled the trigger on going back to therapy. I have a consultation with a new therapist later this week and I'm feeling good about actually starting to figure my shit out again with a little bit of help from a professional, rather than going it alone.

It's not too late for me....and yeah, that's something that I probably need convincing to fully believe, but a change can come. It's possible. I gotta keep telling myself. God damn it, it's gonna be okay. Soon.

[seita]

the contract girlfriend | semi eita (m.)

˒ pairing: semi eita/reader ˒ genre: angst, fluff, smut ˒ wordcount: 𝟺𝟹𝟹𝟷 ˒ tags: friends2lovers, fake dating, musician!eita ˒ cw: dirty talk, loss of virginity, virgin kink if u squint: sweet talking, pet names, mean girl ex, mutual pining, unrequited love(?), angst with a happy ending, UNEDITED

+ note: this is a collab along with the other writers for the kkc! i would also like to thank @bokutobabie​ 𝖿for her help with this plot bc it was kickin’ my ass.

˖˖ summary: when he was an unknown musician, his girlfriend left him. now that he’s made it, he wants to make her jealous at a fancy party so he can get her back.unfortunately, he asks you to be his fake date. the downside? you have a very real crush on him.

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collab masterlist!

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

“I have a proposition,” is never a sentence you want to hear when you sit down to lunch with your best friend. Especially when that friend is Semi Eita. 

“What..?” you ask apprehensively, taking the cup of coffee he’d obviously gotten to bribe you. You took it regardless, not willing to pass up the offer of free coffee.

“Nana is gonna be at the party this weekend,” he muttered, swirling his fingertips around the rim of his cup. You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words, “I want you to come and pretend to be my date.”

Just as you’d expected. Not something you wanted to hear.

Nana was Eita’s first love, his first serious relationship, really. They got together when he was fresh out of highschool, the two of them spending almost all of their time together. 

It was when his career as a musician was just beginning, he was playing small gigs and there was nothing really successful. But he was happy. And he thought she was too.

Until she dumped him in favor of a much more famous man. He was a big movie producer and offered her a leading role in an upcoming film. Of course, she took the offer. 

She would much rather be mingling with the rich and famous than be hanging out with “a nobody like him”, as she put it. You remembered the hurt Eita felt, the tears and heartbreak it took almost 3 years for him to get over. 

“Why?” you finally asked with a sigh, “What will that accomplish?”

“Well if she gets jealous, she might want to get back with me,” he grinned impishly, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You recognized the look in his eyes, one of determination. So you sighed, nodding your head, “Alright, I’ll be your date.”

He beamed, uttering out endless thanks to you as you went on with your lunch until he decided to go back to the studio. He slipped his hat on low, making sure his mask was in place before hugging your goodbye and leaving you sitting alone at the table. 

You sighed, downing the last of your coffee. Your spirits were low; you had no idea what to expect from this party. 

Would she fall for it and run back into his arms now that he had had his big breakthrough and became mainstream? She surely must have known by now; his band was already breaking records, wracking up fans by the thousands, his songs were being played on the radio. 

Maybe now that he was famous enough, she’d actually want to be with him. Not that she deserved him. And he didn’t deserve someone like that, either. He was too good for her, too good to be treated like that. 

You let out another sigh and stood up, grabbing your purse from the back of the chair.

This was going to be painful. You weren’t sure how you would cope with pretending to be his girlfriend all for the sake of him getting back with her. 

Surely your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Because as much as you tried to hide it, you were irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The entire getup was supplied to you by Eita; from the jewelry to the dress itself. You felt like a different person. Despite the fact he was your best friend, you hadn’t attended one of the big parties since his band’s breakout single. 

This particular party wasn’t in celebration of his band, but he was invited regardless so naturally he went. He was still enjoying the high life and was getting used to tasting fame. You were glad it hadn’t actually affected his personality. 

“You look nice today,” Tendou complimented with a breezy smile. He was nursing a glass of champagne, which was uncharacteristic to say the least. He had always been more of a whiskey kind of guy.

“Thanks,” you shrugged, “I’m not really a fan of this kind of thing.”

“I know,” he grinned, “You look terribly uncomfortable, that’s why I came over to be such a good pal and keep you company while your darling boyfriend is off galavanting with the people!”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not my boyfriend, Satori.”

He giggled, taking glee in your embarrassment, “But you wish he was.”

“Are you already drunk?” you raise a brow, making him snicker.

Someone called his name from the crowd and he flashed you a knowing grin, “Eita may be too dim to see it, but the rest of us aren’t!”

You pout and find yourself alone once again. Looking around, you search for your ‘boyfriend’. Suddenly, a heavy arm falls across your shoulders and the familiar scent of his cologne reaches your nose. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he coos, making your heart skip a beat at the pet name. He sounds so fond and you feel yourself smiling before he busts out laughing, shaking his head before letting his arm fall from your shoulders, “That’s just so weird. I dunno if I’ll be able to get through this tonight,” Ouch. “Anyway, Nana just arrived so…” he takes your hand but you can’t bring yourself to smile as you feel the ache in your heart at his words.

If he takes note of your deflated behavior, he doesn’t say anything, merely leading you over to the balcony. You breathe in the fresh air and feel the ache in your chest dull.

“Eita? Is that you?” a perky voice makes you cringe. 

“Nana,” Eita breathes, tugging you against his side as she breaks through the crowd to stand in front of the two of you.

Her smile promptly disappears at the sight of you crowded in Eita’s arms.

“Eita...who’s this?” she asks, a smile returning but you can tell it’s plastic. 

You remembered everything you had gone over with him before the party; the two of you had sat down for a few hours to sort out your story and rules. It had felt like you were making a binding contract with him when you told him no kissing on the lips. It was your only stipulation and you swore you saw a brief downward tug of his lips when you told him before he beamed and readily agreed. 

Maybe you were imagining that disappointment in his eyes too. 

“This is my girlfriend, _____,” Eita introduced, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh,” she gave you a strained smile and held out her hand for you to shake. When you slipped your hand into hers, she gave it a tense squeeze that made you flinch, “I’m Nana, Eita’s ex.”

“I’ve uh…” you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” she replied flippantly before setting her sights on him once more, “We should totally catch up, you know? Reminisce about the good old times~”

The sultry, flirtatious undertone made your skin crawl. Even if you weren’t really dating, she thought you were and for her to not respect that made you angry. But still, Eita pulled away and placed a kiss against your temple that set your heart ablaze.

“Sure, why not?” he grinned and gave your hand a squeeze, “You go have some fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You gave him a hollow wave as he quickly vanished into the crowd without a second glance your way. You knew this was the end goal but still, to see him walking away hurt. A sense of rejection was seeded within you and you felt your spirits slowly being crushed. 

It took all your power to continue on with the party until it felt acceptable to leave. Throughout the party, you kept getting glances of the two of them. 

Eita wore a serene smile, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Whenever she looked at him with a flirtatious smile and a subtle caress, you felt jealousy pool in the core of your stomach. You wanted to march over there and scream “he’s mine!”. But you couldn’t, because he wasn’t really yours. 

He was only pretending to be yours so he could have her. 

Your phone vibrated as you downed your final glass of wine, making you look at the screen with a frown.

“I’m heading to Nana’s apartment for the night! See if Satori can give you a ride home, thanks for the help!!”

Your jaw ached from how hard you were forcing yourself to keep from crying. When you tried to find the elusive redhead, you found he was drunk and dancing with two girls so you decided to leave him be and simply call an Uber. 

For just a short time, you had simply been a contract girlfriend for him to use. Though you knew it was fake, it still felt so nice to be called his. 

So you went home, removing your expensive clothing like Cinderella after the ball and decided to relax on the couch. It was only a little past midnight when you got out of the shower, turning on the TV to watch whatever late night nonsense was playing. 

Eita thought that being with Nana again would be everything he wanted. But as he laid beside her, her head resting on his naked chest, strangely all he could think of was you. 

When he asked you to pretend to be his date, he hadn’t thought of the possibility of how it would really feel. Sure, he had touched you before, naturally. Sometimes he hugged you and held your hand. But that night, when he placed the kiss against your head, the way your eyes lit up in response had his heart stuttering when he thought back to it. 

Truth be told, when you told him he couldn’t kiss you he felt so...disappointed. He had thought of assigning the same rule but decided against it at the last moment, secretly thinking about how nice it may feel to kiss you. 

He had quickly dashed that though because of how wrong it was to think of you like that. 

Yet there he was, thinking of you with his ex girlfriend back in his arms again.

“Eita?” Nana asked, lifting her head to look drowsily at him, “Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah,” he clears his throat, “I should probably get going.”

“Why?” she whines, “Don’t worry about her.”

“Huh? Who?” he asks, confused.

She giggles and clings to his arm, “Your girlfriend! She doesn’t have to know!”

His heart ached at those words -- true, you weren’t really dating but he felt like he had done something wrong. And for some reason Nana’s blatant disregard that he had cheated with her made him nauseous.

“I...I just want to see if she made it home safely,” he gave her a tight lipped smile and picked up his phone. 

She rested against the pillow, head propped up on her hand as she watched him dial you. When you didn’t answer, he gave a frustrated sigh and dialed Satori instead. 

It rang a few times before the slurred voice of his best friend answered, “H-Hey man, what’s up?”

“Satori, did you drop _____ off okay?” Eita asked.

The redhead made a confused sound over the line, “What’re you talkin’ about? She never asked me to take her anywhere.”

“What?” Eita frowned, “Did you see her leave the party?”

“Gotta tell ya, man, I wasn’t watchin’ her,” Tendou replied, a feminine giggle in the background making Eita frown, “Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Eita sighed, shaking his head, “Alright, dude, just...let me know if you hear from her.”

“Hah? Why would she call me?” Satori chuckled, “Why don’t you just check on her? Better safe than sorry...I mean, she’s a cute girl, you never know what kinda scoundrels were eyeing her in that pretty little dress tonight. If i was a less honorable friend, she would be the one in my bed right now!”

Eita scoffed and hung up as his friend started cackling gleefully over the line. Eita stood up, shaking off Nana’s grabby hands as he slipped his jeans back on.

“You’re not going back to her, are you?” she pouted.

Eita sighed, “I gotta check on her. No one knows where she went off to.”

“She’s a big girl, c’mon Eita~” she purred, letting the sheet fall from her bare body as she crawled towards him.

He shook his head and threw his shirt on, grabbing his keys off of her dresser before moving to the door, “I gotta see her.”

He ignored her obnoxious whining as he bolted out the door. Any sleepiness that was in his system had evaporated at the worry he felt over you. 

The drive to your apartment was quick enough, it went by in a blur. He took two steps at a time up to your place on the 3r floor, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. 

The knock on your door made you jump. Throwing the pillow you held in your lap aside, you checked through the peephole to see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair. 

Pulling the door opened, you looked at him with wide eyes, “Eita? Aren’t you supposed to be with--”

“I couldn’t get a hold of you,” he breathed, stepping past you to enter your living room.

“And?” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I got worried! Why didn’t you go home with Satori?” he sighed, sitting on your couch with a huff.

You chuckled again, though it was humorless, “He looked like he was having fun, I didn’t want to impose.”

He sighs and relaxes against the couch. As you sit next to him, for a second things feel normal. 

You almost feel okay, as if you could forget about everything happening. It’s so easy to forget your crush on your best friend and the fact he wanted to be with another woman. 

It was easy to forget it all until it came rushing back into your face in the form of Nana. 

You and Eita were having a lunch date, as was normal for the two of you. Unfortunately, amid his retelling of a story you had heard a million times over, she showed up with an obnoxious screech of his name.

“Eita!” she squealed and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling to your half-finished plate.

“Nana…” he greeted, eyes wide in shock, “H-How did you find me? What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, silly!” she chirped, taking a seat in his lap in a way that was far too comfortable. Suddenly, her gaze shifted to you and the smile vanished off of her face, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Nana…” Eita sighed but didn’t make any move to get off of him.

“What? I thought you were going to break up with her?” she whined loudly, making your cheeks burn as people looked over at the two of you, “You said you were going to dump her!”

“I--” Eita started.

“You should go,” Nana grinned at you, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged Eita closer to her, “Seriously, he’s mine now. He was fucking me at that party instead of you.”

Although nothing about your relationship that night was real, the humiliation you felt at that very moment was. She was smug that she had gotten your boyfriend to cheat on you and was making a spectacle of her victory. 

Biting your lip, you reached behind you to grab your purse, “I-I’ll see you later, Eita.”

“______ wait!” he called but you were already rushing towards the entrance. 

You had no idea that he was hot on your heels until you reached your apartment. You went to close it only for the foot to intercept it. Looking over your shoulder, you found Eita panting before he was pushing the door open completely.

“_____ I--” he paused, “Why are you crying?”

“I am?” you wiped under your eyes and frowned when you felt the moisture there, promptly wiping it away, “Sh-She completely made a fool of me, Eita. I don’t know what you ever saw in her and I don’t know why I helped you get back with her.”

“I know, look…” he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “I feel the same, alright? I’m sorry I pulled you into all this, _____, I really am. Alright, I told her to get lost.”

You sighed and took a seat on your couch, “She only wanted you back because you’re famous now. You know that right?”

He chuckled and sat down, nodding his head, “I guess I was just...hoping for something I guess.”

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t really remember anymore,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you didn’t quite know what to say, simply leaning back on the couch to appear relaxed, “I always wondered why you didn’t date after her anyway.”

He shrugged once more. How was he meant to say that he didn’t want anyone impeding on his time with you? 

“I guess...no one really came along, you know?”

You nodded, “I guess it’s the same for me.”

He snorted, “You’ve never even dated anyone before.”

“You don’t have to bring that up!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He laughed, melodic and pretty, “I think it’s cute. What’s your story then?”

“Eita, we’ve been friends since high school, you know everything about me,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm at the soft look he was giving you.

“Yeah but…” he bit his lip, fingers inching closer towards you, “You’re...pretty and sweet. There’s plenty of good looking guys around me that have tried flirting with you before. Hell, Satori even said he was into you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “No, none of them are right…”

“Who is right then?” he asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

“Eita…” the smile falls from your lips, your heart hammering in your chest as he moved closer towards you, “I…”

“Hm?” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning over your lips.

“I...I won’t regret this, will I?” you asked. 

His breathing stuttered against your skin and he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, “You won’t.”

After those words left his mouth, he brought your lips to his in a sweet kiss that was perfect for a first. You could tell he was experienced, knowing exactly how to move. 

There was something sweet lingering on his tongue that you found utterly addictive. 

You wish you could find it strange or even scary to wind up in bed with your best friend. The fact your entire relationship was going to be changing should have concerned you but all you felt was anticipation. 

He hovered over your body, the two of you stripping your clothes with unhurried ease. His body was firm from working out, a habit he never let go of from his time as a volleyball player. 

His hands were calloused and warm as they touched your body, caressing your breasts in a way no one ever had. The feeling of him thumbing over your nipples had your back arching in arousal, your panties becoming soaked embarrassingly fast. 

He was hard and throbbing in his jeans, the constricting material almost painful but all he really cared about in that moment was seeing all of you. 

Hooking his thumbs into the band of your panties, he pulled the material down. He cursed under his breath at the strings of slick that attached to the fabric. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking his lips as he tossed your panties over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in your room. 

“Sh-Shut up, don’t tease me…” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your body’s own reaction to him.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your knee, “I’m not, baby. It’s sweet...I love knowing you react so honestly to me.”

“Eita…” you whined, reaching up to cover your face as he spread your legs.

“Hmm?” he bites his lip, sliding two fingers between your folds to spread them apart. 

Your hole clenched around nothing, drooling more slick for him to gather on his fingertips. He used it to rub smooth circles around your clit, the sweet moan that fell from your lips at the pleasure he so easily gave you. 

“I’ll get you nice and prepped, baby,” he cooed, the nickname making your heart soar. 

You were so wet, making it easy for him to slide two thick fingers into your pretty cunt. You clamped down tight around the digits, making his cock throb at the mere thought of what that would feel like around his hard cock. 

Twisting his wrist, he crooked his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, his thumb coming up to circle around your clit. The inexperience of your body made it so easy for him to bring you to the edge. 

You had never felt this, no one had ever touched you so intimately so your body was more reactive than ever. 

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He smiled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You cumming?” he asked, though he could very easily feel your walls spasming around him. 

Still, you nodded, mouth falling open but no sound escaping, “E-Eita…”

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, fasting his pace to fuck your dripping cunt. The sounds were wet, lewd and if you were with anyone else you would have been completely ashamed. But it was Eita, the person you trusted the most in the world. He groaned as your body began to quake, “Let it go, pretty girl. Cum for me, that’s it.”

At his encouragement, you released with a shrill whine of his name. He eagerly fucked your gushing cunt through the high, only slowing when your back met the bed again. 

Pulling his fingers from your hole, he was mindful of your sensitivity. He still couldn’t resist placing a fleeting kiss against your throbbing clit before sitting up to meet you for another heated kiss. 

Your body was still trembling as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your thighs spread open around his waist. His clothed cock hovered above your sensitive core and he made sure the rough material of his jeans didn’t make contact.

“Please, Eita, c-can we…?” you asked, biting your lip, too embarrassed to utter the words.

He smiled and nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear before sitting up to discard the remaining clothing on his person. His skin was pretty, tanned and built. His cock reached his navel, dripping precum down the length which he used to easily slick his cock up with his fist. 

The sight of your best friend jerking himself off over your naked, trembling body felt beyond taboo. But it only made you more eager to have him. 

“Please, Eita...I want you,” you breathed. 

He flashed you a smile and sat up on his knees, sliding the dripping tip between your folds. Brushing past your clit, you whined at the sensitivity. 

“It might hurt a bit, pretty baby,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance. 

You had already guessed it. He was big just by looking at him. But nothing compared to when he began to sink into you -- that’s when his size really became apparent. 

“Ah, Eita!” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He hissed but didn’t stop you, eyes falling to where his cock was steadily stretching you open. When he got halfway in, he pulled back until the head remained within your clasping walls. With an experienced roll of his hips, he pushed his cock back in, this time easily bottoming out. 

“Fuck!” you squealed, back arching. 

He could feel you gushing, dripping down his balls. There wasn’t a single sign of pain in your features so he quickly began to move, the both of you riled up and eager to have each other completely. 

Everything felt so right, so sweet. Having him in your arms made you feel so happy. 

“You’re mine now, baby,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, “All mine. N-No more, fuck, of this friend shit...I love you.”

“Eita,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes as you hugged him tightly against you, “I love you too. P-Please make me cum.”

“Fuck, I’ll get you there, baby,” he promised, reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Your walls immediately clamped tight around him as he played with your little bud, “C’mon. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cream, pretty baby. Can you do that for me? Show me how good this cock makes you cum.”

His filthy words, whispered in his sweet, deep voice were enough to throw you over the edge. As you squeezed around him, trembling and gushing through the amazing orgasm, he spilled within you. A soft whimper of your name fell from his lips as his balls throbbed, cock spitting out load after load until you were so filled, it dripped from your cunt. 

Finally, the both of you stilled. He leaned back to look in your eyes, tucking some damp hair behind your ear before pecking your lips. 

“I meant it, you really are mine now,” he said.

You nodded, “You’re all mine too.”

“Well,” he gave you a teasing grin, “You have to share me with my millions of adoring fans.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you giggled, biting your lip as he pulled out, “You have thousands at most.”

“Oh, way to bruise a guy’s ego,” he laughed.

You were grateful to have him, everything with him was so easy. Everything between you was fine, perfect even. And you didn’t have to worry about ever losing him to another girl again.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

-

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction. 

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.  

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

-

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

[stardustincarnate]

CONFESSION // Mello x Reader

word count : 4016 genre : fluff a/n : i haven’t gotten over my writer’s block, so yes -- here i am, once again posting old fics from my wattpad account. 

Today is the day.

After contemplating about it for a couple of weeks and confiding it to his best pal, Matt, Mello has finally decided to confess his feelings for you tonight, exploiting the situation where you two will normally go riding on the city streets during Friday midnights such as this one.

To say the least, he isn't the best in this kind of thing— love, that is. Before, all he could think about was one thing which was proving that he's better than Near, and besides, no one really piqued his interest. But then the enigma that you are came.

You can be cunningly evil at times if you want to. You'll often say to the ones you've fooled or to the other mafia members, "It's nothing personal, it's just business." You also have a harsh mouth as he would like to describe. Anything that comes out of it may sound derisive or blatant, but it's basically the truth. You don't sugarcoat things— you don't even try to. Although sometimes you seem to make the truth more cruel than it really is, which makes you look too intimidating for the others. They're only thankful that you don't talk very often and only will if you have something conducive to say.

But that's not all that you are. Mello could feel it, so he grew curious of you. Just a mere speck of curiosity, but then it grew. He wanted to talk to you, but then he asked himself what's the point of doing so, thus he disregarded the idea. That's why you developed a friendship with Matt, who you think is really fun to be with, first. Then as your friendship grew, he thought of introducing you to Mello, and that's when it began. To be frank the beginning of your friendship wasn't easy, and to think that friendship only started growing not until you celebrated a year and a half of being with the mafia.

It was a long process, but in the end, it was worth the wait. Day by day he started lowering the walls he barricaded himself with, and same as you. He became really outgoing and deep down truly caring as your friend, like he is with Matt, because after all you two are the only family he has. And— let's not forget his strange addiction with chocolates! And, well, you like it.

You like him.

Mello knows this as well. He knows that his feelings are reciprocated and he's happy with that. But the question is, who's going to make the first move? Certainly not you. Between fighting the devil and confessing your feelings for someone, you'd probably choose the former. You don't seem like the kind of person who will make the first move. He as well is like that.

And that leads us to his acquiescence of doing it instead. Did he have a choice? Well, maybe, if one considers you doing it instead, but that will definitely take several months, or even years, from now. And he can't wait that long! What if you suddenly start to develop feelings for another person? He can't lose you, you that is just in front of his eyes, one step away from him. He needs to grab the opportunity while it still is there.

Because with you, he feels happy and contented. And for the first time he finally feels like he is number one.

And he really is, in your heart.

"Wooh!"

Matt exclaims after slamming the door, causing Mello to jolt upwards from his reverie. "You know I almost got caught by another mem!"

"Is it done?"

"Of course."

"Hm. You sure this suggestion is for the better? You know how scary that woman can be when she's mad. Especially after finding out that her tires have been flattened."

"Didn't you say you wanted something more romantic tonight? So, I thought of flattening her tires so she can't use her own scooter, that way she can ride with you."

"Uh-uh... Is it romantic though?"

"You two will be close enough. And—no perverted thoughts—she gets to wrap her arms around you while riding. If that's not romantic, I literally don't know what is."

"I'm having qualms about this one."

"What? I'm just as clueless as you are when it comes to romance. I'm doing my best here to help you ya know?"

"I know, I know. Sorry."

"It's your fault you fell in love with her." Matt jests, chuckling. But he immediately behaves himself when he sees that deadly glare of his friend. "Hey! I was only kidding! Don't look at me like that, Mels. You're creeping me out."

"Hah. But I guess you're right. My fault. And great— now I'm having more doubts than before and feeling.. tentative."

"The almighty Mello is nervous? Wow. I never thought I'd live to see this day!"

"Say one more word and I'll make sure it's the last you'll ever emit."

"HE-HE-HEY! Now you're just being belligerent. Don't worry. I'm sure you two will come back here as a couple. Swear it on my life. So stop doubting yourself. And just.. don't act awkward and dorky when confessing towards your little devil."

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. Just don't."

Mello heaves a sigh. "Sometimes I do wonder if you're really the smart Matt they used to talk about back in the orphanage."

Matt only grins. He's about to reply, but then they both hear footsteps—angry footsteps—coming closer.

"Oh, speaking of the devil. Here she comes. In three.. two.. one.."

With that, you kick the door open and look around. You look like you're about to whip someone's ass and the men can almost laugh at your reaction knowing the reason behind it. You give them a steely look when they unknowingly start to curve their lips to a grin. They quickly change their reaction.

"This has gotta be one of the worse days of my life!" You exclaim as you slump on the sofa beside Mello. "I can't go with you. I've got a flat tire, and I have no idea why. Someone must've done it.."

"Who would do such a terrible thing? Especially to you, the devil no one else even bothers to approach?" Mello momentarily glances at Matt before taking a bite of his chocolate, which you then steals from his grip. "But don't worry, I gotcha. You can ride me... with me I mean! You can ride with me, NOT RIDE ME—good Lord I'm sorry."

'Aha, and there goes Matt's reminder that I shouldn't act awkward.' He looks away with a blush.

"I think [Y/N] is okay with either of that—"

You raise an eyebrow at Matt. "Oh, you mean you Mathematics. You can ride him all you want so don't be shy and put my name in your shoes."

"That's not—!"

"—ANYWAYS, Willy Wonka, you sure you okay with me riding with you? You won't mind?"

"Jesus, stop calling me that! And yes. You're my friend so I won't mind."

"Thanks mate!" To his surprise, you hug him from the side. And you are hugging him a little too much. "You know I've always wanted to ride your motor. It looks cooler than mine."

"Ah.. well— you're squeezing me a bit too much.. don't you think?"

You pull away and snicker. "Sorry. You're like a marshmallow that I just want to squeeze sometimes."

"EHEM. Pardon me, will you? I need to go to the restroom."

Matt stands up, thinking that his job here as cupid is done—or not quite yet. He has one last plan in mind. And even he isn't sure that that plan is going to make things better or worse.

"Enjoy taking another dump!" You shout as he leaves the room, making sure to lock it. Now you and Mello are completely alone, facing one another in utter silence. And it's too silent that you can hear some of the other mafia members arguing in a distant room. You can even hear someone moaning. Mello can hear it too.

You both give each other a look that only you two can understand.

"Oof. Must be nice. Err, so anyways," you start. "The usual place tonight?" And by that you mean stopping by to go atop a dilapidated building in a forsaken road to stargaze with him for ten minutes. You two make sure to always include going there to find tranquility in the stars and with each other. It temporarily removes all the problems and worries you have.

With Mello ruefully shaking his head, you frown. He puts an arm over your shoulder and nods reassuringly instead. You hide a smile.

"We can do that next week or earlier if we're not too preoccupied so don't be so glum. I'll be taking you somewhere new. I'm sure you'll like it."

"I hope so. Otherwise I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You'll be the one getting your ass kicked it if you don't give me back my chocolate right now."

"But I need chocolate too! Chocolate makes you happy. So I need it, 'kay?!"

"As far as I know that chocolate is mine and not yours???"

"But I'm your friend aren't I? You still have a lot of stock in there I'm sure."

"I'm running out of chocolates so give it back you little demon."

He hastily maneuvers before you can even stand up and try running away. He seizes your wrists and places your arms behind your back to prevent you from moving. Since you two are facing each other instead of him being behind you, the position is rather awkward. The proximity of your faces makes both of you blush and in an instance he backs away. You cackle in triumph as to his dismay of not getting his chocolate back.

You look at your wristwatch before taking a bite of the sweet. "Well Marsh-Mello, what are we waiting for? Let's hit the road! I'm already bored." You hold his hand the moment he stands up and you two run outside.

Mello throws the helmet to you which almost hit your face, earning an irked look from you. He then starts the engine as you wear your helmet.

When he starts to move just before you can take a seat, you panic. Of course he only wants to toy with you. He stops at a corner and waits for you, who's running and ready to smash his face. You pant as you finally reach him.

"You little bastard! Why'd you have to make me suffer?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You groan and then sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The closeness of your bodies make you both blush. He makes sure you're all set before once again driving in a high speed that made you hug him tighter. You've always known that he drives this fast, but to experience it yourself? It feels like your skin is being blown away and seperated from your bones.

"W-Would you mind slowing down, just a bit?"

"Come on [Y/N], that's not fun."

"So you call this fun? You're gonna kill us both. I'm too beautiful to die right now!"

"Tsk. You're no fun." You're about to make a rebuttal but he slows down reluctantly and matches the speed you will normally drive at. You sigh in relief and absently rests your chin on his right shoulder, looking at the stores, buildings, and a few people walking on the sidewalk which you are hastily passing by. On your left you see numbered vehicles and a few more buildings.

You're enjoying the ride, however, you hear the tire from behind pop. That is already bad, and worse comes when the front one pops too. He goes to the side before halting.

"Shit! Just our luck!"

"Haha seems like you and I share the same fate, huh? Goals."

Mello sighs as a realization dawns him.

'Matt.. you little shit.'

"Whadda we do now?" You worriedly ask.

"We're still halfway to the place I'm taking you and this happens.. I suppose I can just park this somewhere. You wouldn't mind walking, would you?"

"Sounds fine with me then."

He nods and parks the motor beside a bicycle and a car in front of a store, placing a tracker in it just in case it gets stolen. But if it ever does, he can just get another one. Legally or not. Doesn't matter.

In silence, you and Mello start walking side by side. Arriving upon a city bridge you can't help but stare at the river. The limit to what you can see on its side is a lively city despite the hour, with skyscrapers and billboard signs lit up. You can hear the occasional, distant sounds of car engines.

You avert your gaze back in the front, meeting chatty people on your way who are walking opposite to you and Mello. You realize that they're mostly couples who are matching clothes and openly talking, not caring if they're to be heard by others. Mello also notices, and not only that but the way you two undeniably look like one. Without any intentions, your clothes match. Not that it's a big deal since everyday you two wear black, but because of your surroundings, he might as well seize the opportunity.

Beaming from ear to ear, he holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together. You're confused, but at the same time liking it, a blush creeping on your face.

"Don't mind if I do. We don't wanna look like a couple who can't bear with each other after some kind of quarrel, do we?"

"But we're not a couple."

"No, not yet."

You stop and raise an eyebrow.

"Oop. Did I say that out loud? My bad."

He cheekily grins. It's only a joke, you think, but at the same time you wish that he's not joking—which he really isn't.

"Hey, how long are we going to walk?"

"Why? Are your feet giving up already? Want a piggyback?"

You completely turn red. He smiles at that.

"Nah.. I—"

"Don't waste the opportunity. I might change my mind later."

"I don't care. This is enough."

You squeeze his hand tightly—too tight that he swears he feel his phalanges breaking—but unexpectedly, he just moans. And people look at the two of you.

"The fuck was that?!? I didn't know you were some kind of masochist!"

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD?"

"AHA so you do admit being a masochist!!"

"WHAT? NO! I'M NOT!"

"Why so defensive now?"

"Because people are hearing you???"

"Let them! HAHAHAHA! MY BOYFRIEND IS A MASOCHIST! ISN'T THAT CUTE??"

But after realizing what you just said, you stop and gnaw your lower lip.

"Oh earth swallow me right now.. Sorry! God I'm embarrassed. You're not my boyfriend—"

"Didn't I tell you? Not yet."

You punch his shoulder playfully. "Stop joking around! I might actually believe you ya know?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"..Of course you are—"

"—OH, here we are!"

He diverts the topic, leaving you to slightly pout to yourself as he turns left to an unoccupied and dark area, pulling you to the railing where you two halt and see the perfect angle to view the city and the river from. The water and its light ripples glimmer under the moonlight as the brisk wind hits your skin, making you slightly shiver. Mello notices this and takes off his jacket, insisting you should wear it instead. You don't argue.

"Mello, this is.. magnificent. And a nice spot to stargaze as well! It's pretty wherever I lay my eyes on."

"Except behind us, maybe. You don't like trees that much."

You cackle. "They give me the creeps, especially during night. But at least we don't have to face that way, do we?"

He shakes his head as he laughs, inclining himself closer to you. He places his hands just beside yours on the railing, looking up and then looking at you, who's still busy admiring the sky.

He can't help but smile admiring you in your adorable placidity.

"The stars are pretty tonight." You say as you notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

"You always say that. They're always pretty. Sparkly."

"Mesmerizing to look at." You add. He nods, still staring at you.

"That's why I love the stars.."

"Uh huh. And chocolate." You grin.

"And you."

You stand flabbergasted, daring not to look at him directly. Your heart feels like it's about to jolt out of your chest. Your fingers begin to tremble on their own as you feel something intangible whirling inside your stomach. You know what it is—and he's making your heart flutter. But you can't trust this feeling as you aren't even sure if he's joking or not. And if he is, you kinda hate it. You want it to be real.

"Aye, don't flirt with me. That's so not you." You snap, rolling your eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to perceive what's on your mind. He taps your shoulder before sitting on the railing, inviting you to join him. You're a little hesitant for the fear of falling to the water. And when it comes to this kind of thing, you don't trust Mello. You're sure he'll eventually push you. The number of times he had done this to you in some places before is something you can't even count anymore.

"C'mon [Y/N]. Don't be scared. I won't push you. Or if I do, you're free to drag me as well."

"Tch. So you do intend to push me." Nevertheless, you sit beside him and grip the bars tightly with your clammy palms. Luckily the concrete extends six inches after the railing.

Mello feels like you two aren't physically close enough, and he thinks it's not 'romantic' enough, so he slides even closer to you until his palm is already above your hand and your shoulders bump.

"Oh, no. You keep your distance, Mr. Wonka."

"It's not like we're having social distancing here you know?"

"You're too close."

"And I'm going to get even closer.."

He whispers, his hot breath tickling the side of your neck. You sigh and face him, and your noses bump. You urgently back away and you almost slip if not for him.

"What's gotten into your system for you to act so flirty all of a sudden?"

"You."

"MELLO!! I'm damn serious. Like, all the jests can wait but for now, just.. don't flirt with me. I'm in no mood."

"Aww, trying to shoo me away huh? After stealing my heart and my chocolates, here you are suddenly breaking my poor, poor heart."

"One more attempt and I'm going to drown you."

"Heeeeeeey. Don't be so vicious now." He softly bumps your shoulder with his. You only click your tongue in annoyance.

"Seriously. Stop messing with me. I hate you."

"No you don't. I'm not messing with you. I'm serious—"

"Tch. Serious my ass."

"..You don't have one—"

"See? You little fucktard. You keep on messing with me. So just stop flirting with me. I swear I'll kill you if you continue."

"Whaaat? Seriously, I'm not messing with you. You gotta—"

"Mels, no, no, no. You can poke fun of me, push me off right now or anything but just don't flirt with me. You're a bastard for torturing my feelings. That's not cool at all. Damn it," you spat. He keep his silence, his mouth starting to gape.

"Don't make me assume things because I really, really, really like you!"

The words pour out unbidden. Your voice resonates and immediately you shut up and look down with a furious blush.

'That's it, congratulations for possibly ruining your friendship.' You think as you bite your lower lip.

Your blush vanishes as the fluttering feeling in your chest does, being replaced with instant regret, as if your heart has dropped to your stomach.

The look of surprise in his face turns to a cheeky grin. With much glee, he chuckles.

"I've always known this devil is a pure softie inside..."

"M-Mello.."

You are about to tear up, but then he says, "Do you know what you just did? You ruined my plans, [Y/N]! But I suppose I can forgive you for that."

"What?? Plan?? Damn you, damn you, damn you! I knew you were up to no good! Damn it, Mello! Pretend this night never existed. I'm outta here—"

"No no, it's not what you think. 'I like you' was supposed to be my line, not yours!" He can't help but burst out laughing, leaving you momentarily dazed, but then when you realize what he possibly meant by that, it's as if your heart has come back to life. Your face turns red.

"I was going to confess to you tonight, but it looks like the tables had turned. You are a.. partypooper! Do you know how many times I've practice saying that in front of Matt, just to end up with you saying it instead of me? Unbelievable!"

He wheezes, catches his breath, then looks at you. "And look, I'm not complaining, alright? Haha.. but the way things turn out to be in the end is just so.. whimsical. But I'm gonna say it anyway: I like you. I like you a lot."

You scrutinize his facial expression just to be sure that he's serious, and you confirm he truly is. He's absently smiling, and just from staring at you is the reason. Rapture dances in his eyes. He looks genuinely happy and candid at the moment. And here you are left speechless, only staring at him as a sheepish smile slowly invades your face.

You almost lose your grip on the railing when he briefly kisses your cheek. And again, nothing comes out of your mouth.

"Do I also need to say that I wanna be your boyfriend? Because, isn't it obvious?"

"Mello..."

"No pressure, [Y/N]. If we both like each other but you're not yet ready for a relationship, I understand and I can wait."

"Well.." You hide your face on his shoulder because you feel like the longer you stare at him, the more probable it is that you'll faint. "Uhm.. Err... Have you ever been.. in a relationship?"

"No, not really. You will be my first one. If you accept."

You smile. "Well, same as you here."

"Really? I thought you already had a partner or two before."

"I had no time to be in love. Add that some of the people I was acquainted with sucked, and the kind ones.. well, let's just say that they seemed to be missing something.. something that, I suppose, only you have. And.. it will really make me happy if you are to be my first," you lift your head up to meet his eyes. "So I accept."

"You serious?? Right here?? Right now??"

"Need I repeat myself, partner-in-crime?"

"Haha! Course not!"

You peck his cheek as your warm smile broadens. You then rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving the distant city as he wraps an arm around your waist, meticulous so that you two wouldn't slip from the railing and fall down.

"I think it's safe to assume now that you're the one behind flattening my tires. And just so I can ride with you. You're a cunning man, so I suppose you also did something with your own scooter just so we could walk together, like couples in movies. Haha I never thought you'd think something like that!"

"It was Matt's idea. Swear. He thought it was more romantic that way. And he's probably the one who rigged my scooter. He really can be a huge pain in the ass sometimes."

"Like you are."

"Aw come on. Take that back you little demon!"

"Noooopeeeee! Pfahahaha— AAAA SHIT!"

And with that, you both plunge into the frigid water with a loud splash.

[rainbow--panic]

Sunny x sonic pt. 2

Pairings:Sunny drop x Sonic

Warnings: none

Hey guys, thank you for all of the positive responses on the last story! it really meant alot, heres part two, please enjoy.

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

Sonic returned to Sunny’s side after his rounds. They continued to find games to play and eventually settled down, sitting on the ground. Sonic asked sunny questions, mainly just to get to know and understand him better. Sonic asked about moon and the incident Sunny had referenced. Sadly, Sunny explained to Sonic the details of the incident, which had taken place almost a year and a half ago.

“It was just like any other day, the children and I played and had fun, then nap time came around” Sunny began. “Moon was sitting with some children who were having a hard time sleeping, he was singing them a lullaby when some older kids snuck up behind him. I'm not even sure who they were, but they weren’t in the daycare when the lights were on so they must have snuck in, they were much older than the children we usually look after.” Sunny looked at sonic and sonic nodded his head, urging him to continue.

Sunny took a breath. “They started shouting and jumped on moon. He didn’t know what was going on and ended up attacking the kids, the younger ones woke up and got scared of moon. The kids were alright and they ran away, but ever since then no one really talks to moon, the children are all scared of him.”

Sonic looked at sunny and nodded again. “That's not fair though, it wasn’t moon’s fault. Where was the security guard to stop the kids from sneaking in?” Sunny frowned. “The security guard let them in, I guess they were a friend of the kids who snuck in and thought it would be funny, it was a twisted prank.”Sunny sighed. “And ever since then moon has had trouble trusting people, he’s completely given up on meeting new friends.” Sonic made a clicking noise with his tongue and then snapped his fingers with a smile. “Moon needs a friend just like him” he rubbed his chin. “And I think I know just the guy for the job.” Sun looked at him questioningly. “Fazbear Entertainment is looking for someone for maintenance duty, if i can get a friend of mine to take it maybe he can befriend moon!” Sonic said cheerfully.

“Who’s your friend?” sun asked. “He's an old pal of mine, he worked for my enemy for a long time but ditched him and I'm sure he’d want a job or something to keep him occupied, besides he kinda owes me a favor. His name is Shadow, he’s a hedgehog just like me and he likes to mope around a bunch, he and moon would be the perfect duo!” sonic exclaimed. Sun smiled and jumped up. “Well in that case that sounds like a perfect plan!”

For the rest of the time Sonic was there he told sun about all his friends, starting off with his best friend tails. Sonic told Sun of the adventures he’s been on and a lot of the people he met. He also told sun a bit about robotnik,mainly only the funny weird things about him. “Robotnik, my enemy, has a huge mustache, it has to be at least a foot long on each side.” Sun gasped. “Is he known for his mustache? Is that why he’s your enemy?” Sonic laughed. “Actually he’s known for his robots that are always up to no good, usually he sends them to steal something. Also I am not jealous of his mustache. If that's what you're getting at, could you imagine combing that thing everyday?” They laughed.

Sonic looked down at his fazwatch to check the time, it was 5:30. “Well it looks like i have to go do my last round Sunny, i'm not sure if i’ll be back this time though.” Sunny nodded. “That's alright, you’ll be back tomorrow right?” Sonic nodded. “Then I’ll see you and maybe your friend tomorrow! Have a nice day sonic.” Sunny reached out and grabbed both of Sonic's hands. “And thank you for staying with me tonight, it means alot.” Sunny smiled down at sonic. Sonic blushed and averted his gaze to the floor. “Oh yeah it was no biggie.”

Sunny waved to Sonic as he left. ‘I can’t believe you have a crush on that thing’ said moon. ‘I don’t have a crush on him’ sun said, a small blush on his cheeks. ‘I don’t even think I’m capable of that’. With a smug, short, laugh moon replied ‘Of course you are capable of that, you were built to be capable of that.’ Sun sighed. ‘So what do you think of him? Do you have a crush on him too?’ There was silence for a moment. “Hm, not my type, too energetic and loud.’ Sun gasped ‘so you are capable of feeling.’ ‘shut up’ moon replied angrily.

The following day went smoothly and sun was noticeably more happy. The children pointed it out to one another. “Why do you guys think Mr.Sun is so happy today?” asked one. “Maybe he’s just really excited to see us.” replied another. “He's always excited to see us.” another retorted. After some quick collaboration from the relatively large group of children they came up with an idea: Mr.sun has met ‘the one’ like in their movies.

The kids giggled to each other as they all ran up to sun. “Mr.Sun! Mr.Sun!” they yelled for him. Sun turned around, worried as that all the kids were yelling for him. “What's wrong children?” They all tried hiding the fact that they were giggling. The ‘leader’ of the children went up to sun and began to speak. “Mr.Sun, have you met the one?” they asked. Sun thought for a moment but concluded he had no idea what they were talking about. “The one….what?” he was confused, was this a lead up to some type of joke? Didn’t seem to be very funny. “You know, THE one” the child said again, emphasizing on the words.

Again sunny thought for a moment before he finally understood what they meant. “Oh you mean like a boyfriend? Heavens no” he said with a chuckle. The children were silent, first looking to sun, then at each other, then sun again.”What's wrong?” he asked. The leader spoke. “We never said boyfriend.” The children then roared with laughter and applause. “Sunny’s got a boyfriend! Sunnys got a boyfriend!” they chanted. Suns face was red. “No no, what? Me? No never!”

The children teased sun, others asked what suns boyfriend was like, and the rest kept chanting. Sun had fell to his knees. “It’s not like that,” he began. “He doesn’t like me that way and besides we just met last night,” he admitted. The children gasped. “You need to give him flowers” yelled one child. “And chocolates!” another added. “Get him a nice dress!” “Sun would be the one wearing the dress in the relationship though” “nuh uh” children argued. “Why can’t they both wear dresses?” another child added. The two that were arguing looked at the third, then back at each other. “Yeah I guess nothing would be wrong with that” the other child nodded “Yeah”.

For the rest of the time Sunny was there he kept getting relationship advice from children who barely knew the answer to 2x2. Although the advice was nice, and frankly very cute, he doubted Sonic would be interested in him and that was alright, he was lucky enough to have sonic as a friend. The day passed by and soon enough the last child had left the daycare.

With a heavy sigh, sun began to clean up the toys that were left out. As he picked up the last toys in one of the small play ‘pits’ he saw a flash of blue. Looking around he noticed that the toys were picked up and the throws were all stacked. “Hey sunny” sonic greeted, now at suns side. “Sonic! You're back!” sun exclaimed gleefully. Sun excused himself while he put away the toys he had picked up and returned to Sonic's side.

“Hey guess what?” sonic said. Sun replied with a questionable hum. “I was able to get that pal of mine to start working here. I told him to get over here when he was done with, well, whatever he was doing.” Sun tilted his head to the side. “Was he fixing something?” he questioned. “Uh, you know that map bot?” sonic asked. “I'm aware of the map bot, yes” “Yeah it kinda jumped out at him so he dismantled it, he’s putting it back together now.” Sonic laughed awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck.

“I wasn’t aware that he was violent.” Sun said. “No no he’s not violent, he just has a thing with robots jumping out at him.” Sun looked at sonic and then realized “Oh because of that bad man he worked with, right?” Sonic nodded. “Exactly, because of robotnik.” Sonic informed Sun that Shadow may seem grumpy and irritated but not to be alarmed because that was his whole personality. “So don’t worry, he won’t hate you, it's just how he’s always acted.” Sonic reassured sun.

Sun was excited to be meeting another friend, but he was nervous as well. This new friend was Sonic's friend, one that possibly has some type of PTSD from his former job as a bad guy. Sun wasn’t really informed of what he did for Dr.Robotnik. Sun thought it would be best for him to not jump around, he didn’t want to trigger shadow when he came. A loud creak took sun out of his thoughts. At the door stood another small hedgehog, this time black with red striped hair, he wore a smaller version of the maintenance outfit, including pants.

“Shadow, there you are!” sonic exclaimed.

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

[sunmoonandeddie]

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n:  This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to.  Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery.  He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast.  He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves.  He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training.  He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter.  But he wasn’t bitter.  No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym.  He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite.  Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to.  Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist!  Which he was really, really surprised about!  But Marlene is good.  Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him.  She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward.  Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily.  But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips.  “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming.  “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general.  They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…”  He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans.  “I think this is something I need to do alone.  At least, the going through her stuff part…  But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed.  “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it.  “To be completely honest with you…  I’m kind of over it today.  I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is.  And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.”  He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line.  “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face.  “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.”  She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday.  “You’ve done well today.  You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers.  He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013.  He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest.  But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit.  Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel.  Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point.  Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking?  “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”  He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is.  There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling.  “Alright.  Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes.  Clothes upon clothes upon clothes.  He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time.  He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression.  He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters.  Letters upon letters upon letters.  They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon.  The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet.  “Ruthie…”  His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx.  They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca.  She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to.  “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter.  He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it.  He’s not afraid to admit that.  But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her.  They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive.  She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough.  He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him.  He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her.  You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips.  But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.  You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly.  His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk.  “I’m Bucky.  Bucky Barnes.  I was pen pals with—��

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway.  She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her.  “Did you say Bucky Barnes?”  The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart.  “Oh, my stars, it’s really you.  I heard about what happened to you, and I…”  She shakes her head, clicking her tongue.  “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters.  “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be.  The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you.  You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand.  “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute!  She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room.  He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot.  He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass.  “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one.  “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says.  Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana.  Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him.  She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different.  He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you.  And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray.  He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses.  “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him.  “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew.  “I…  I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair.  “She makes me happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been.  And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.”  His gaze softens the more he thinks about you.  “And she isn’t scared of me.  She doesn’t judge me.  She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.”  His hands are sweating as he rubs them together.  “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him.  And sure, he knows that.  You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile.  “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand.  “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light.  “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something.  You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling…  You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it.  You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school.  Hell, you excelled.  And you enjoyed it!  You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him.  “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?  And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth.  “Fine.  You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair.  “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad.  “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky.  Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear.  “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time.  “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time.  “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man.  It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps.  A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs.  You look absolutely radiant.  The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers.  “Are those…  Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.  “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms.  “As a congrats.  For, you know, graduating.  And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands.  “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine!  Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar.  You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable.  “I’m grown, you know.  I don’t…  I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble.  “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery.  “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded.  He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers.  “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever.  “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry.  “Uh…  What?” He says quietly.  His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks.  You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar.  “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him.  “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.  Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good.  But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day.  Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

[obsessive-ego]

Night night

Beetlejuice jerks it while watching you sleep again cuz someone asked me to

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Nsft content

Its been a good few days since you've last seen your undead pal, the ghoul claimed he had a business meeting in the netherworld, though you still dont believe the demon had a legit paying job, the man was a freeloader, not that you minded, you enjoyed his presence, more so then youd like to admit to be honest, okay so maybe you thought of him on those long sleepless nights, not that youd ever say it out loud.

You were a coward with those feelings, beetlejuice was impossible to read, the heavy flirting, the touching, who's to say he wasnt just messing with you.

You sigh as you continue to fold your laundry, normally on quiet days like this, when you were alone, youd try to catch up on chores since there were no distractions nor interruptions.

Your mind begins to wander with this simple mindless task, so you didmt exactly notice as you room gets colder and the air gets heavier.

"Honey, I'm home~" a familiar voice growls in your ear

You Yelp at the surprise, and fumble with the shirt you were folding, before spinning around to see the culprit.

There stood beetlejuice, smug as ever, a big toothy grin, amber eyes practically glowing, spots of pink emerging from his hair, both head and face.

"BEETLEJUICE"

"Oh how I missed that sound~ that sweet sound on my favourite breather screaming" he moans leaning back circling his own nipples.

You suppress a laugh, not wanting to give the demon encouragement for making a fool out of you.

"Welcome home" you sigh, before turning back to gather up the folded laundry and place it in the basket.

Unbeknownst to you the ghoul has let the soft pink spots take full control of his once green hair, a dopey love sick smile now graced his mug, the demon let's out a soft sigh, welcome home, something so soft and simple, it ment nothing when he said it, but from you? You were basically inviting the ghoul to live with you forever, that you considered your home his aswell.

Turning back to the ghoul you smile

"Well?"

Beetlejuice snaps back to reality, raising an eyebrow at you tilting his head as if to focus more on you.

"How was the whole business trip?"

"Oh, that? dull, not even worth discussing" he smoothed back his hair, as if he was whiping the pink away in favour of his default Forest green.

You frown, beetlejuice wasnt exactly open with talking about the netherworld, maybe because he found it boring, being born dead he's probably already had his fill of the place, you shrug it off, not wanting to spoil the mood of your departed friend being back.

"Soooo~ ya miss me?~" the ghoul coos pulling you into a rather enthusiastic dip before leaning in close, puckering his lips and making kissing sounds. You snort out a laugh and try to push beej away.

"Of course I did, as nice as the quiet is, i miss you when you're not around"

You literally had no idea what you were doing to him with all this corny honesty and kindness, all without blackmail or threatening, you openly enjoyed him, bugs and all. No one has ever wanted him for nothing, beetlejuice was powerful so be wanted always had a catch, but not with you.

"Oh~ do you think of me when you're all alone late at night?" He purrs in a mocking tone, as much as beetlejuice was infatuated with you he still enjoyed teasing the hell out of you.

You snort out a laugh trying to escape his grasp

"Come on doll, say you think about me at night~" the demon purrs pulling you close, taking a slight nip of your ear causing you to yelp out.

And as if your yelp was what he was after the ghoul let's you go.

Frazzled, embarrassed, and slightly confused you stumble trying to regain yourself.

"I take it back, I didnt miss you" you mumble

Beetlejuice only laughs "no backies babes"

It wasnt a new thing, beetlejuice teasing you, flirting with you, being up close and personal, you just didnt exactly know if he was joking or being legit, but you didnt mind, you enjoyed his attention, as embarrassing as it was, and let's be honest beetlejuice  was thrilled you enjoyed it, so he could get up close and personal with his favourite breather, now if only he could get you to admit you loved him first.

...

It was nice to have your freeloader back, a few days of peace and quiet are nice, but things do get lonely, so having your ghost back was wonderful, the two of you spend you evening the usual way.

You ordered pizza, beetlejuice scares the piss out of the delivery guy and makes you laugh, the two of you spend hours watching b list horror and joking all the while.

The night was a delight, but fun things couldnt last forever, unlike the demon, you needed to sleep.

"I'm gonna head to bed beej" you yawn.

During your little movie night the ghoul manged to worm his way into your personal space, pulling you into his side, draping an arm around your shoulders.

You squirm your way out of the demon's grasp, beetlejuice grunts in protest, not exactly thrilled with you absence, it's been days since he had you so close, your warmth, your scent, oh how he missed it, hell he already starting to get get hard from that close contact alone.

"Aw come on sweets, you have the day off tomorrow, and I just got back from a long boring trip alone, humor me" he shrugs knowing full well you wont.

You yawn "sorry Bee, I can barely keep my eyes open, we can hang out more tomorrow, night Bj" you waved him goodnight before shuffling to you bedroom.

The ghoul huffs in disappointment, one day you'll agree to stay up all night with him, well, more of you'll TRY to stay up all night with him and fall asleep up against him, gold for teasing.

The ghoul didnt want to continue with watching movies, it wasnt the same without you laughing at his jokes, nor did he want to play video games, again, they weren't fun without you, he COULD bug your neighbors, but he wasnt exactly in the mood.

Raising from his seat on the couch he huffs, it was nice to be back after those soul sucking few days in the netherworld, the ghoul floats over to your bedroom door, phasing his head through the door, unlike breathers the demon could easily see in the dark, there you were out cold, he smirks, you really were tired.

With the coast in clear the ghoul phasing the rest of his form through the door.

Beetlejuice makes his way over to your sleeping form, oh how he missed this, yes the two of you were apart only for a few days, and yes you two have been apart for longer periods of time. But spending time with the Deetz and the maitlands was a different kinda time apart, he wasnt alone, but being in the netherworld? It was lonely, cold, and felt like an eternity, plus he had to deal with his mother. But that unpleasantness was over, and here he was, in his favourite breather's home, where he belonged.

The ghoul hums as he makes his way to your bed, the ghoul floats and adjusts himself, now laying on his side hovering inches above your bed and inches from you.

One of Beetlejuice's favourite late night pass times was watching you sleep, he was a creep with a massive crush on you, both in the sappy way and 'I'm gonna fuck you senseless way'.

"Really missed ya sweets~" he purred in a gravely whisper

"I missed your voice, I missed you laugh, I missed you warmth, i missed you scent-" the ghoul continued with his list as he slowly freed his half hard cock, it's been a few days since he last cleaned his pipes, and being up close and personal with his favourite breather moments earlier really got his motor running.

As lovely as it was for the demon to watch you sleep, another favourite pastime of his was to tend to his personal urges while watching you sleep, an activity he has partook in multiple times.

Electric pink quickly took over the mossy green of his hair, the demon was already buzzing with excitement, pink hue so bright it illuminated the room, Beetlejuice's strokes started off nice and slow, as much as beetlejuice wanted to rush into the fun, he wanted to enjoy his first night back home even more.

Leaning forward the ghoul takes a deep long sniff if your scent "Mmmm" he stifles a moan "I bet you taste as good as ya smell babes" he groand through his clenched teeth.

As hot as the idea of being caught was, having you wake up and see him jerking off only inches away from where you lay, having you be incredibly flattered and turned on at such a gesture and then begging him to fuck you, as hot as that fantasy is, that's what it was, a fantasy, in reality youd probably be sick to your stomach at such a scene and banish him then and there, but hey, a ghoul can dream.

"I bet those pretty hands would feel alot better then mine" he groans, slightly picking up pace.

"Maybe next movie night you could treat me to a little handy J sweets, unless youd prefer to use that cute mouth of yours, you know I'm not picky" he sighs, the image of you getting bored during movie night and getting handsy with the demon was one of his favourite fantasies, simple, yet naughty. Beetlejuice's hips buck into his hand begging him to pick up the pace as his mind wanders to all his dirty fantasies of you, his amber eyes never breaking away from your face.

If the ghoul was good at anything, other then being an absolute pest, it was edging himself. Beetlejuice slows down his strokes, almost as if to stop.

"Ya know doll, anything you'd do to me I'll repay ya, I'm dying again to get my tongue inside that sweet little pussy of yours~ if your panties are any indication you're gonna taste real good~ I'll eat ya out for hours-" beetlejuice freezes as you shift in your sleep, you let out a soft unintelligible noise.

The ghoul let's out a sigh he didnt know he was holding, his hands make their way back to his cock, that sweet little noise, oh how his missed those sounds you uttered in your sleep.

"Oh sugar, the sounds you'll make when old mr beebleboose gets ya riding his cock are going to be beautiful" he moans, the image having you sitting pretty straddling him, cocked buried deep within you, having you do all the movements at first while he admires the way your chest will bounce, and the faces you'll make, until the demon takes charge and pounds mercilessly into you, oh how he dreamed to hear your screams of pleasure and praise on how good the ghoul made you feel.

Beetlejuice's hands were busy at work, tending to his cock as the ghoul's imagination ran wild as he stared at your sleeping face, he was close.

"Oh y/n, FUCK, babes I want- no, i need ya, I need ya so bad sweets, I missed ya so much babes, fuck" beetlejuice babbled as his pace picked up jerking his cock, hips bucking hard to meet his hand.

Beetlejuice leans back into you face, taking another deep inhale of your intoxicating scent, and lingering a tad longer to steal a quick kiss,as much as the ghoul wanted to shove his tongue down your throat this was the best he got.

"Baby, I'm gonna- fuck y/n-" he uttered before he finally blowing his load, splattering his glowing cum all over your bed, it was quite the amount, beetlejuice sighs leaning back and admiring his handy work

"Its been while since I made that much" he lets out a soft chuckle, electric pink hue slowly dying down.

He sighs, as hot as it is to have you sleep in cum covered sheets, you wouldnt be too pleased waking up to see this sticky mess.

With a snap of the demon's fingers the mess vanishes, as disappointing it was to he his work vanish it was for the greater good.

Beetlejuice's gaze moves from your bed spread back to you, his expression changes to a soft toothy smile, soft pink colours taking over his hue, with a snap of his finger his trade mark striped suit was vanished leaving him wearing nothing aside from a pair of striped boxers. Beetlejuice slowly and carefully removes the covers from your body and gently slides in next to you, covering himself up with the freshly 'cleaned' blanket he sighs through his nose, greeted by your delightful warmth, one of his favourite things about breathers, how warm they were.

There was only ONE last little thing to make this welcome back 'party' perfect.

With a snap of his fingers you're sleeping form shifts and slowly crawls into the ghoul's arms before collapsing back into your motionless slumber, beetlejuice smirks at this as his arms wrap themselves around you, possessing someone in their sleep was a little annoying, but little things like that were a peice of cake.

With this pipes cleaned and you in his arms the ghoul was ready for bed,

"Welcome home, home" he muses on the words you beamed at him when he returned to you. "Guess that really rings true huh? Night y/n" he kisses your forehead before finally closing his eyes.

Bonus

You jolt awake moments after beetlejuice has snuck into your bed, anxiety taking over due to the weight about your body that you did not go to bed with, you sigh in relief once you see it was your resident freeloader demon, a tad embarrassed how you ended up cuddling the ghoul you shrug it off, to be honest the nights you were without him were sleepless, it was lonely without him.

You pause for a second before leaning up and giving the ghoul a quick peck on his scruffy cheek before nuzzling back into his soft chest, his hands resting softly on your back.

"Good night Lawrence" you mumble before dozing back off for a long peaceful sleep.

[absconditum-imaginaerum]

Taeyong | Oversight Words | 5.6k Genre | Fluff, tiny dash of angst. Notes | Female!Reader x NCT Taeyong, Alcohol/inebriation, suggestive material (mention), probably a mess I wrote in two days. Slightly edited. This was going to be 2k and then it wasn’t.  Summary | Taeyong gets a little too drunk and finally reveals the feelings he’s had for you the whole time, but not without some serious oversight on his part.  

Taeyong was a lightweight; everyone knew it, everyone made fun of it, everyone gave him shit for it. But being the sweetheart Taeyong was, he took it in stride, even when he went out with his friends and they constantly told him to slow down, joked about how he’d be blackout drunk in no time, that he probably should drink some water and eat some greasy fried foods. He mostly only went out with his friends to escape the monotony of home, of staring at the bleak white walls of his room or office, to look away from the equally bleak white pages he scribbled over in the middle of the night, the middle of the day, or really any time inspiration struck him. Even though the old man within him craved to be in the quiet, away from the bumping club music and sweaty bodies swaying around him, it was nice to spend some time lounging with some buddies and joke about things other than his alcohol intolerance.

Admittedly, he got uncomfortable any time the relationship conversation came up. Taeyong couldn’t say he was actively looking for a relationship—he actually quite enjoyed his zero commitment alone time—but sometimes he craved the affection for another more extensively than peer support. Even though his friends joked around being playfully affectionate (and he did so right back) he knew there was nothing that could fill the void of that genuine affection. His buddies often tried to use his quickly built courage to try and talk to some people around the club, but he seldom went for it. Would it be apt to call Taeyong picky? Maybe. In all the time he spent being single, he really had time to hone in on exactly what he was looking for, and while that took a little more delving into personalities to really bring to light, he tended to be a pretty good people-reader as well.

But it just so happened that that particular night brought one person who caught his attention and caught it hard. He curiously eyeballed an individual in the next cluster of seats over, sitting with their party, enjoying some drinks and laughing just like he was supposed to be doing. Mindlessly, he continued to sip at his beer, a bit hoppy for his taste (if he had a taste for alcohol; he was a self-proclaimed wine connoisseur) while he admired the features of said individual, perhaps too far off in dreamland to notice the way his friend group had caught him staring and went quiet.  They looked at him suspiciously, a close buddy, Jaehyun, followed his gaze over to your group.  

“Someone catch your fancy, Taeyong?” Jaehyun asked, almost startling the older male. Taeyong blinked hard a couple of times, crash landing back to earth as he looked to the curious eyes of his friend, and then to the other curious eyes of his group.

“Was I staring that hard?” he asked with a laugh, feeling a little embarrassed as the others joked around with him. He tried to get comfortable on the lounge he was seated on, sitting up a little straighter as he tried to bring his attention back to his own company.

But in the back of his mind, he swore he knew you from somewhere. He was already his third beer in and a shot of whiskey, which was one more than he typically had on a night out with the addition of the whiskey that he never partook in, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. Already feeling a little funny, he chalked it up to the fact that maybe you looked like someone he knew and shook his head a little more to get his thoughts cleared.

You, however, had noticed his occasional glances. Recognizing a majority of his friend group, there was no mistaking it was him. But it was your girl’s night out, and clearly his boy’s night out, so it would be crashing both your parties if you went out of your way to speak to him—not to mention, you also knew of his intolerance and he was probably too gone to really recognize you anyway. You had to laugh at that fact. He always got real rosy in the cheeks and nose, and he got that boyish grin that was too adorable, the one he had on right now.

“Why don’t you go talk to him if you’re going to keep looking?” one of your friends suggested, nudging you in the side.  

You almost scoffed. “He’s a friend of mine. Plus it’s girls night, we agreed no interests, just us,” you said, raising your glass to cheers to your friend group.

“I’ll drink to that,” another chimed in, clinking glasses with the rest of your pals before she grabbed the hand of an unsuspecting friend and dragged her out of the lounge cluster and to the dance floor. You laughed, watching them go, watching the face of the dragged give you a horrified look begging for you to save her, but you gave her a pitiful wave.

“Isn’t that his longtime friend?” one of the boys whispered to the other away from Taeyong’s inattentive ears. Johnny peeked around Jungwoo to scan your group before landing on you, obviously the one that Jungwoo was referring to as the one Taeyong had been eyeballing.  Slowly, he nodded.

“He must already be a little tipsy to not even recognize her; or maybe he does but can’t place it,” he mentioned in return, both of them turning their gaze to Taeyong and Jaehyun who had their attention trained on the previous two.

It was a pretty well-known (or well-assumed) fact that Taeyong pined over you. The two of you had been friends for ages, and Taeyong had to grapple with some feelings that he was fairly certain you didn’t return; or, at the very least, didn’t express that you returned. He always thought you were pretty, smart, witty, funny—the list really could go on, and he had honestly caught himself comparing so many potential matches and interests to you, which ultimately sabotaged his pursuit for a relationship in the first place. He knew it wasn’t healthy, trying to find your duplicate; it ended his search for a significant other in a hurry, and the group partly knew that. They had hoped that if they pushed him hard enough, he would eventually let it go. Eventually, he would, but they weren’t sure it was coming soon enough.

Especially not as he continued to sit there and steal glances at you from the corners of his eyes when he thought his buddies weren’t paying close enough attention, but a tipsy Taeyong wasn’t particularly inconspicuous. He knew he was already on the downslope, he could feel it in the way his head was getting cloudy, and since he was already on the downslope, he continued with his beer, followed by another, and another.

It was hard to tell which bottles were his, and he wasn’t exactly keeping count as he looked across the lounge table that was littered with bottles and shot glasses and rocks glasses. It smelled of alcohol and sweat, of mixed faded colognes that wreaked of a cocktail all by themselves. Taeyong rubbed a hand against his face, to coolness from holding his bottle waking him up a bit.

“You okay, dude?”

Taeyong swung his head over to the origin of the voice—Jaehyun, who hadn’t left his side since they’d arrived. He blinked hard before a glass of cold water was shoved into his hand.

“You’re going a little ham; have some water,” he encouraged, a chuckle punctuating his teasing before he got up to give the older some space. He could tell by looking at his friend, not to mention his mannerisms, that it probably was far too late to save him. And if anyone knew Taeyong, it was Jaehyun. He knew somewhere in there, Taeyong was having a lot of internal battles, and he was sure that seeing you, whether he recognized you or not, wasn’t helping at least a few of those battles.  

Obediently, he sipped his water, noting the cool way it slipped down his throat, the feeling in his mouth, trying any type of mindful exercise to bring himself back to earth. It was hot as hell in there. At least it felt like it, he couldn’t be too sure. Clubs were notoriously toasty, but this was a bit much. He leaned forward to put the water on the table, itching to get outside to get some cool air on his face.

Taeyong stood, a little wobbly, and nearly tripped on the couple of stairs up out of their lounge pit. Jaehyun protested his departure, but he was emphatic that he needed some fresh air and ignored his friend anyway as he stumbled between the crowd of people only clogging his senses even further. Once he finally made it to the front door, he pushed both his hands against the tinted cooled glass to shove it open and all but fall into the night breeze.  

It seemed to sober him up a little bit as he slumped against the brick building, feeling the protruding corners press into his back through his dark button-up. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the night sky to let the breeze run over the warmest parts of his neck as he counted his breathing. Never did he do well with being intoxicated, but even less so being this intoxicated. Taeyong hated being impaired, the very thought of not being in full control almost terrified him, and yet here he was, trying to will the alcohol out of his system because even though he was inebriated, he could still tell it was a mistake.

“You good, babe?” a dainty female voice asked him. He was standing right outside the club, so the likelihood of someone seeing him was pretty high. Still, he nodded his head, not even bothering to look at whoever was checking on him— he wasn’t even sure they were talking to him, but he was sure he looked pretty bad.

“Do you need me to call you someone, or a cab?” she prodded.

“No, no, I’m good. Just need some air,” he defended, finally opening his eyes to meet a form that matched the voice. He brought a hand up to his face, trying to cool off his scalding cheeks as he turned back to ignoring her existence, finally able to hear her heels click off into the distance. He lingered outside for a bit longer, giving his cheeks a couple of taps and taking a few steps in either direction, deciding it was still best to water down the alcohol with something else.

So he approached the bar and produced some bills from his pocket to order a coke with a splash of grenadine. The bartender gave him a weird look but produced a dark icy glass garnished with a couple of cherries and an orange wedge. Taeyong shoved the bills across the bar, and collected his glass, just to lay eyes on you once more, sitting right there in front of him at the bar where he’d squeezed in to order.

You were observing him but hadn’t said anything, letting him get his business done first, but he caught your gaze. He looked like a deer caught in headlights for just a moment, watching you look at him with your pretty long lashes and glittered makeup like you were a lion and he was in trouble. Taeyong wasn’t the type to go down like that though.

He bit his lip and pushed a hand through his hair, attempting to salvage some suaveness as his gaze trained on your face. Your lips were glossy and slightly parted as you waited for him to say something, your head tilted amusedly to the side, the curiosity itching within you.

“Hi,” he started, and it widened your shy smile.

“Hi,” you replied.

“How are you?”

It was cute to watch him; you knew you were a bit done up, in a way he’d probably never seen you, only adding to the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you anyway. Even still, the sincerity in his voice you knew well—he was genuine about trying to pick you up.

“I’m well,” you replied gently, “and yourself?” You gestured with your eyes towards his drink, an unusual non-alcoholic order.

He smiled nervously at your gesture, almost missing it, as he lifted his glass a bit with a soft laugh. “I’m a little tipsy; I don’t drink well,” he admitted, the red tinge on his cheeks that was customary when he drank turned a little darker.

“You’ve been finding me all night,” you commented with a light chuckle, turning fully towards him and crossing your right leg over your left, setting your elbow on the bar to flirtatiously rest your chin against it.

“Never was one to be inconspicuous,” he returned, trying to defend himself—he really was that obvious. “Plus I find it hard to look away from someone astoundingly pretty.”

“Do you always remain articulate when you drink?” you teased; he still hadn’t caught on to who you were, and at this point, probably wouldn’t. You didn’t even give him time to reply as you slipped out of your bar chair, grabbed your drink and his hand, and led him patiently through the crowd back to his lounge cluster and his friends who, by the looks on their faces, were getting worried about him.

Gracefully, you slumped onto the lounge next to Taeyong, pulling the hem of your cocktail dress down just a little bit as you placed a hand on his shoulder.  Johnny and Jaehyun watched you closely—the both of them knew you well, and vice versa, but you ignored them for the time being because you were there in the moment for Taeyong.

His cheeks were rosy, nose almost red as a button, and his gaze glazed over you like he wasn’t sure he was even looking at anything, but that boyish grin still tugged at the corner of his lips. Taeyong sloppily pulled the glass of coke up to his mouth to take a deep sip from the straw.

“He found you,” Johnny said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence since it had been a good couple of moments since the both of you sat down and said nothing. Of course, you promptly acknowledged the both of them at that point, mind a little preoccupied with your rather inebriated boy.

“He did find me,” you replied with a chuckle, affectionately looking at Taeyong as you had been doing so most of the night. You tucked some strands of disheveled dark hair behind his ear.

“I think I’m drunk,” he told you, loudly gulping the coke as it forced down his throat.

“You are, sweetheart,” you told him with a laugh. His head lazily swung to you, noting your dress which allowed him the perfect view with the way you were sitting, slightly hung up on his shoulder and his jaw shifted a bit, tongue poking around his mouth before you took his chin to guide his face back up to yours. He eyeballed your glossy lips as he blinked slowly, eventually pulling his gaze up to your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk.”

“I don’t drink. Er… I can’t drink,” he told you for the second time.

A sweet and endearing smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him. He slumped into the backrest of the lounge, still working on his cool drink. When he’d finished slurping down that coke, you were quick to hand him a glass of water.

“I should probably get him home,” you commented. Half of you offered to take him home because you wanted to make sure he was safe, and probably with someone, meaning with you, at your house. And the other half of you wanted to take him home because you would have a means to get home. Since all of your friends had already called it a night or were nowhere to be found, it would be convenient for the both of you if Taeyong left with you.

“You don’t have to shoulder that responsibility. He came with us—”

“I’m not blaming you, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” you interjected, giving Jaehyun a sweet look. “I don’t have a ride home anyway, and I think maybe someone should look after him. How about it, do you want me to take you home?” you asked, directing your question to Taeyong who was sitting contentedly with the straw of his water perched comfortably between his lips. His eyes shifted over to you, maybe he was sobering up a little bit, and nodded.

“Yes, please,” he responded and dished his empty water cup onto the table in front of him. You held your hand out to him, gesturing for his keys, and he straightened his right leg to dig into his pocket to produce them for you, laying them gingerly in your open palm.  

You stood first, smoothing your dress out, and gave the boys a genuine smile. “Thank you for watching after him,” you said, sincerely, and then waved before cupping your hand against Taeyong’s to lead him back through the sweaty crowd of people, grabbing a to-go cup of water, and through the same front door. You clicked around on the fob, looking for lights to illuminate to indicate his car before making your way to it and gently finessing him into the passenger’s side before finding your way to the driver’s side and shove the key into the ignition to turn.

“Taeyong,” you cooed and his head swung to look at you again.

“You’re pretty,” he blurted, resting his head against his seat’s headrest as his gaze fluttered.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out to touch against his cheek, “do you know how to get to your home?”

Meekly, he shook his head. He was nothing if not honest when he was drunk, and at least was still there enough to know that he didn’t know. So, you put the car in reverse to pull out from the parking spot to drive home; it wouldn’t be the first, or probably the last time he’d stay the night at your place.

He quietly sipped his water in the passenger’s seat, the radio low and ambient; the gears were turning in his head—he wanted to ask you so many questions like where you were taking him, but he couldn’t quite get the configuration of even that sentence. So, he sat and eyeballed you from the corner of his eyes as you carefully drove to your apartment. You pulled into the covered parking, leaving plenty of room for Taeyong to get out on his own, but he sat buckled for quite some time after you turned the car off.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, noting the time was a little before one in the morning.

He nodded shyly.

“Do you want to go in and go to sleep?” you asked, and again he nodded. He looked like just a boy in that moment, sunken into the seat with the straw of his cup comfortably between his lips as he sheepishly nodded at your questions. Maybe he needed help getting up, so you tugged the keys from the ignition and rounded the car to open his door, then held out a hand for him to take to lift him from the car.

Taeyong all but stumbled into you, his footing not great but you didn’t have difficulties corralling him sturdily back onto him. The blush that hit his cheeks with the way that your fingers laced with his to begin your trek to your apartment door was luckily masked by his current rosiness, and he wouldn’t dare look at you, even as you squeezed his hand in reassurance before coming up to your door. You produced your keys from your jacket pocket and turned the handle to carefully let him in and it didn’t seem like long before he made his way, with your help, into your bedroom with a quick pit-stop to the bathroom.

You tugged the covers of your pristinely made bed back before helping him with his jacket to toss over the Papasan chair in the corner of your room. He watched you intently, especially as you came back face to face with him. His eyes glittered like galaxies captive as he looked into your eyes, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips for only a second.

And you saw it coming. You saw it coming the whole way and didn’t bother to stop him. His soft lips slanted against yours; gentle, warm, and tender, while his arms dangled lifelessly at his sides. Taeyong’s eyes were closed before his mouth even met yours, and it took a minute for yours to fall closed too, relishing the kiss in a way you didn’t think you ever would. Part of you knew he wouldn’t remember, and you could keep a secret, so it couldn’t hurt. But the way he broke the kiss, the soft sound of parting lips that echoed in the silence of your bedroom, sent a shiver down your spine. Even though it was over, his lips lingered, brushing against yours that had your nerves standing on end. Your eyes fluttered open, noting his were still closed. One of your hands reached forward to touch against his forearm, shielded by the sleeve of his button-up, and only then did he bring an arm forward to wrap around you with the intention of taking things further.

“T,” you uttered. You only ever called him that when he needed to pay close attention, so like clockwork, his eyes opened with a hundred percent attentiveness on what you had to say next as he backed off you a bit. “I’m going to get you a fresh cup of water, by the time I come back, I want you cozy in this bed,” you told him.

He hesitated for a moment as the comprehension kicked in, and then nodded. You turned to head back into your kitchen to get him said cup of water, lingering for a bit to give him enough time to get comfy. And when you returned, he was right where you asked—his clothes in a messy pile on the floor, himself tucked deep under the covers and you could tell by the look on his face that the alcohol was wearing and he was exhausted. The clunk of the Styrofoam to-go cup against your bedside table stirred him just enough to look at you.

“You sleep tight, if you need anything I’ll be in the living room,” you told him, ruffling his already disheveled fringe as you carded them away from his forehead, rummaging through a drawer on your way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind you.  

You grabbed an extra pillow from your linen closet on your way back to the living room, a nice throw blanket already splayed across the back of it, so your primary focus was shimmying out of your cocktail dress to pull the oversized tee you’d grabbed over your body. The couch sunk under your weight as you adjusted the pillow up against the armrest and tugged the throw over your body; you reached over to the lamp to click it off a burrow in for the night.

The sun, begging to push through the slats of your partially cracked blinds, illuminated Taeyong’s bare skin as he laid on his stomach, arms tucked up under the pillow he was laying on with the covers pushed down to the small of his back. He licked his dry lips, a groggy sound of discontent pushing from his body as he stirred to somewhat consciousness as you cracked the door open. Slowly, you crept in, trying to be as noiseless as possible before making your way over to the side of your bed. His water cup was mostly empty, which brought a tinge of a smile to your face. At least he was hydrated.

You pushed your hand over his warm back, still more or less in the same spot you left him, and cooed his name. He turned his head away from you, again, prompting you to climb over him to sit up near the top of the bed and peer down at him.

“Taeyong,” you whispered, “Taeyong, it’s time to get up to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” he grumbled and then winced, his hangover headache in full swing.

“It will make you feel better,” you reminded him, still keeping your voice down to not bother him too much. His eyes cracked open to look at you before closing again, just open long enough to judge the distance it would take to lift himself and plop his head back down on your lap. Your hands immediately threaded through his hair to comb through it.  He let out an exasperated sigh, obviously happy to be in soothing company considering his condition, and to him, little was more soothing than your tender touches anywhere on him.

“What happened?” he asked, “why do I feel like trash?” he almost groaned, adjusting his arms to be more comfortable around your legs.

“Well, you were out at the club last night with your friends, and you got drunk. Like, really drunk.”

“That explains the headache…” he muttered. “So, how did I end up here?”

“I was there; I suppose you don’t remember. My friends left me early and I didn’t have a ride home and I wanted someone to look out after you considering your condition. You couldn’t tell me the way to your new place, so I brought you here,” you said with a laugh, recalling that you sat down on the couch, gave him some water, finessed him to his own car, and drove him to your place without him fully understanding who you were. You essentially kidnapped him.

“I don’t remember anything,” he admitted, which meant he didn’t remember the kiss.

“Then I suppose you don’t remember hitting on me at the bar or calling me pretty about three times,” you reminded him. You could feel the way he tensed up on your lap, his eyes flying open to stare at the covered window across the room from your bed.

“I literally tried to pick you up and you didn’t… say anything??” he asked.

You laughed.  “It was cute! I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“What else don’t I remember?” he asked, almost in agony. He sincerely hoped it didn’t go too far. Hitting on you in the first place was an extreme oversight—the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you or put two and two together was just a blunder.

“Don’t get mad,” you started which piqued his curiosity beyond comprehension. What could you possibly say, the worst-case scenario was—

“We slept together.”

His head shot off your lap and he was upright faster than you could blink.

“We what!”

The panic on his face was so much more than you could ever have imagined. He looked at you wide-eyed, nervous out of his mind. The fact that he didn’t remember anything meant he didn’t remember if proper precautions were taken, which was his primary concern over sleeping with his best friend.

“I’m kidding, Tae!” you exclaimed, reaching out to take both of his arms to calm him down as much as possible. You could almost see his heart racing, almost able to feel the way his blood pumped in such an intense rush. “I brought you home and put you to bed.”

“That’s so not funny!” he complained. “You scared the crap out of me! I thought I was way more responsible than that!”

“Are you calling me irresponsible? After I brought you home?” you questioned, but it was all in more teasing.

“I mean, no! But that’s still not funny!”

“Are you saying you’re put off by the idea of sleeping with me?”

“How do I even answer that?” he asked, blush tinging his cheeks. “I mean, you’re my closest friend. We’re not really in the type of situation that calls for thinking about that? But if I have to answer… I can’t say that I am…”

Now that he seemed a bit calmer, it was time to drop the real bombshell on him. You’d opened up the conversation with that shock tactic. But now you weren’t sure if he’d even believe you.

“Well, that’s good, because you did kiss me.”

Taeyong buffered for a moment, the gears turning in his head to decide if he should believe you or not after you had just fibbed about something so serious.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked. He’d be hard-pressed not to question your motives at this point. “I don’t remember,” he reiterated, looking at you with a knitted brow to display his frustration. His hands were clawing against the comforter, now crumpled on your bed underneath him after scrambling to his knees off your lap.

“I’m not trying to do anything,” you replied tenderly. Having this conversation was welling a handful of feelings deep in your chest, feelings that were pricked at last night when he did kiss you. You swallowed hard, looking at him sternly, trying to relay to him the seriousness of that statement. It was the truth after all.  You weren’t sure how else to tell him; what else was there to say besides telling him in plain language, straight up, unadulterated, no frills or run-around.

You cast your gaze down for a moment looking at the way his knees were tucked under him, before trailing up his bare chest, over the centerline of it, over his collarbones, his slender neck, his sharp jaw to his perfect lips you could still remember were as soft as a cloud against your own, slightly parted, ready to say something.  

He wasn’t ready for you, but you leaned in anyway, gently putting one hand against his leg and the other to his side, deep into the comforter, and tilted your head up to take his soft lips with your own. Taeyong jolted a bit, and it took a solid moment before the feeling really did become familiar. One of his hands took the wrist of yours against his leg. The other slowly finding its way to your jaw, gingerly stroking his fingertips across the cut of it before filing around your ear, cupping against the side of your neck as he finally leaned into you.  

Before too long, you tugged away, feeling your point was made, but he wasn’t ready to let you go. His hand still circled your wrists, so you didn’t depart the kiss too quickly. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, relishing the taste of your lips for a moment longer before his eyes finally opened.  You drew back to sit on your own legs again, tugging your hand back to place them both in your lap as you looked at him nervously. Maybe he really didn’t remember anyway and now you were in trouble.  The look on his face wasn’t particularly receptive, but sometimes he was difficult to read, especially as his jaw shifted, gaze scanning your face before he made his next move.

“You’re right,” he muttered, leaving you no time to reply as he leaned into you, reaching out to reel you in from behind the back to tug you close to him, slanting his lips back across yours a bit more confidently this time around. One of your hands caught his shoulder to stabilize yourself, especially as he leaned deeper over you, while the other pressed against his warm chest. He continued to lean deeper until your legs shifted out from under you and your back laid against the mattress and he hovered over you, breaking that kiss too, but not without following it up with a couple of tender pecks. Taeyong’s fringe had fallen forward, brushing against your forehead just as your eyes began to open, just to close again as you tilted your chin up to kiss him once more.  

He pulled back far enough you couldn’t reach; for a moment, he just wanted to look at you, to observe your features, your eyes and the way they glittered looking at him, your mouth and the way your tongue was trapped between your teeth just behind your glossy lips.

“You really are beautiful…” he whispered, “and you’re right, the second you kissed me… that’s a sensation I can’t forget.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Pride,” he said, “fear, insecurity, stupidity, the list goes on. Most importantly, I’d give up so much before I gave you up.”

“Dummy,” you replied, teasingly shaking your head.

“Don’t remind me,” he answered, leaning over to dodge your face and hide his slight embarrassment against your neck, absolutely adoring the quiet sigh you tried to hide as he kissed against the crook of your neck before you felt his arms dig under you.

“Make breakfast with me?” he asked, hulling you to an upright position again, mostly across his lap before letting you go. You crawled off the bed and reached over to take his hand, lacing it deep with yours as you tugged him towards the kitchen. A genuine smile crossed both of your faces as he followed you, unable to help the desire to turn you against the kitchen counter and kiss you again through that smile, making up for all the lost time he spent worrying about what could happen instead of just going for it.