#The first interaction and she's already got a big one to bring to the table

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Two | Bradley Bradshaw

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Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Bradley rents a bungalow about twenty minutes from base, towards the south of the San Diego bay. He explains, on the drive there, while she is hugging an overnight bag of her things, that he’s been renting it from this sweet old lady for the past four years — but he’s only been living in it for about three quarters of that time, with deployments.

He talks a lot. Shooting halfway amused looks across at him every now and again as he talks over his music, explaining his entire rental history, Avery just lets him go on and on.

Maybe he’s worried that the silence will give her room to start tearing up again, but she knows that won’t happen — it was already a rare occurrence, just the once. 

She lets him talk. He doesn’t seem to mind how much attention she’s paying either. Anything other than silence is fine, even if he’s the only one filling it.

The respite comes when he parks in the driveway, hops out, and proudly displays the home to her. It’s white all over and covered in plants, all up the driveway and over the porch. There’s a surfboard sitting on the porch, waxed up and looking ready to go.

Inside is masculine and simple, and spotless. It looks more lived in than Maverick’s place, but in an exceptionally organised way. 

Just past the front door, he has an organised entryway with a closet and one of those shoe racks that looks like an end table. 

Beyond that, his living area is all open plan. His kitchen is to the left right as you walk in, and the living room is the clear focus. He’s got a big grey sectional pointed at a big tv with a stack of video games beside it.

He doesn’t ask her to take her shoes off by the door, but she copies politely when he kicks his off. 

That leaves her, blue and white tube socks, toeing against the chewed up corner of the area rug while he busies himself with fixing the few things he deems to be out of place. 

Itching to keep moving, she prods at the fabric, examining the teeth marks, wondering where the dog must be.

“Oh— that was my ex-girlfriend’s dog. I’ve been meaning to buy a new rug.” He explains, furrowing his brows at the spot as he tosses a throw pillow down onto his soft looking grey couch. “Um — so, I do have a guest room, but it’s kind of a gym right now. You can just make yourself at home, and I’ll go get everything out of your way.”

“I can take the couch.”

“No, no, you deserve some privacy at least. I’ll just be a sec — I have sodas and beers in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet to the right. Help yourself.” He’s a good host, and a better one than she had been yesterday, considering that Maverick’s place is now technically her own.

As he heads for the long, stretching hallway, she shoots a look back down at the mauled rug. With how spotless the rest of this place is, he must have really liked that girl to let her bring her dog here, and to let it chew up his stuff.

She wonders, aimlessly, if he was mad about it. If they argued. If they broke up long ago.

Avery hasn’t had too many relationships of her own. Some mediocre sex and a couple of couch-based movie dates here and there, nothing to write home about. 

She sits cautiously, sinking into the pillowy cushion of the couch, taking the time finally to really look around her. The space is bright, with big windows all around and a view of the bay. There’s a sun catcher dancing from the curtain rod, casting rainbows across his wooden floors.

Maybe his ex had bought that, too.

The bungalow is small, but it fits all of his belongings with an abundance of space left. Avery thinks back to her father’s place, always cluttered and spilling over with junk, treasure from his years of travels.

Maybe Bradley is a little bit less sentimental about keeping things.

He rattles around in the room at the end of the hall for a while, huffing occasionally. While waiting on the couch, she considers getting up and offering to help a few times, but ultimately convinces herself against it.

“Alright! Fresh sheets and some space to move, there’s still a bunch of stuff in there but I tried to get it out of your way.” He comes strolling back down the hallway and drops down onto the couch at her side, letting out a heavy sigh.

She screws her mouth up a little, looking across at him while he rests his eyes, long, dark eyelashes brushing his warm cheeks. His long legs, covered by worn denim, stretch out far enough that he has to bend them around his coffee table.

When one hand comes up to card through his mussed curls, she catches sight of the tattoo inked across the expanse of his bicep. LXXXVI. ‘86. She starts to think on it, letting him enjoy his moment of peace, when he shifts and startles her enough to drag her eyes away from his flexing arm.

“Thanks, for everything,” Avery manages to still sound a little cautious in her tone, even when she’s rushing to speak. “Staying last night, driving me around today, letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiles without opening his eyes, reaching out and letting his hand pat skim across the seam of her jeans, patting at her knee platonically.

“Any time.” He breezes, cool. 

The first night is uneventful. Avery sleeps restlessly on the futon in Bradley’s spare bedroom, turned home gym. 

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

When she wakes up, Bradley is gone and there is a note on the kitchen counter explaining that he went for a run. He was gone for two hours, trying to run far enough that the sick, hot, thudding feeling in his chest would stop.

Back at the house, Natasha stops by and spends the afternoon. She lets herself into the place with her key, which sits on her own keychain like she’s had it for a while. Watching a sitcom from the armchair while they sit beside each other on the couch, Avery notices that the two of them are very close.

She wonders if Natasha happens to have a dog.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for either one of them the second night. When he finally catches sight of the red, flashing declaration on his alarm clock that it is now 2:01am, Bradley gives up.

He tries to be quiet as he’s getting up, careful not to wake Avery. They’re in much closer quarters in his place than they had been back at Maverick’s house, her door is right opposite his across the narrow hallway.

He pads down the hallway, rubbing at his eyes, tossing up whether he’s going to try to drink something warm and go back to bed, or if he’s just going to stay up. He can’t keep not sleeping.

He almost heads straight for the kitchen, freezing in his tracks as he finally takes note of the blue light coming from his living room, and the sound of women’s voices. It takes him a second, even though he’d been being so considerate on her behalf, to remember that he has a guest over.

“Ave?” He mumbles. 

The TV immediately falls silent. She winces from her spot on the couch, craning her neck to try to see him at the edge of the hallway.

“Just me. I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” She sounds worried. He’s still half asleep. 

He shakes his head as he steps out from the shadows and heads for his kitchen. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be up. I couldn’t sleep.”

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips. 

Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

Her mouth is dry as she mumbles out a soft, “Me either.”

“D’you want a tea?” He stands with her back to her now, reaching around in the darkness of his kitchen. She stares, unblinking, at his back.

“You drink tea?”

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.”

Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

He scoffs without looking. “Of course I have green tea.”

This whole lack of sleep thing isn’t new to him. It comes with the grief, but it’s there even when he feels like he isn’t grieving anymore. Since he was a kid, Bradley has had thoughts that keep him up at night, thoughts bad enough to stir him from peaceful, pleasant dreams.

He’s tried every tea in the catalog.

He carries the two mugs across the living room without once noticing the way he’s been stared at. He sets hers down on a cute little wicker coaster on his coffee table, walking past and dropping down onto the corner of the sectional.

His legs stretch out and he shifts and twists until he finds himself comfortable. “What’s this?”

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“

“Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Until, the light from the television catches on the silver of his dogtags. Her gaze drops, like a flicker, to his bare, toned chest — and she swiftly looks back to the television.

“You’ve seen it?” She asks softly.

He’s beyond good looking. He’d always been okay looking, he’d had a nice smile in all of those pictures she had seen. But now, the roundness of his cheeks is gone and he has grown into his nose, his lips are a shade of pink that would be a bestseller in cosmetics. 

Avery curses herself; she had been pretty successfully pretending not to notice that he had gotten good looking. Then, he comes strolling down that hallway and making her tea from his apparently extensive collection, having the nerve to sprawl across his own couch looking like that. 

Across from a girl who hasn’t seen any action in the better part of a year too. 

She almost scowls. 

“Every episode,” He answers gleefully. At first, she thinks of Natasha or that mysterious girlfriend with the badly behaved dog. Then, he adds, “This was my mom’s favourite TV show, ever.”

And suddenly, she feels a little guilty for acting like those muscles make him some kind of ladies’ man. Just because the rest of them have been, she guesses. 

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

She glances across, watching him chuckle at a classic Samantha one-liner and take a sip of a raspberry herbal tea. Wrinkling her nose, she settles back down into the spot she had been relaxing in, and lets herself zone out again. 

They watch a couple of episodes. Unlike earlier, Bradley doesn’t feel the need to talk. He likes the quiet, mixed with their frequent chuckles. It’s an okay thing, to not have to fill that silent void. 

Avery is the first to excuse herself to go back to bed, and she hasn’t once mentioned his little Calvin Kleins or the way they make his thighs look. 

As she walks away, Bradley catches himself. He hadn’t much thought about what she might wear to bed, or what she’d been wearing when he first sat down with her. Her hips wiggle in her stride, her fitted pyjama shorts hugging her ass as she heads for the guest room. 

The material of her loose t-shirt is tucked in at the back. Those cotton shorts hug her hips and show off just the tiniest glimpse of her round ass, from where they have ridden up a little.

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

Man, Maverick would hate it, too. 

Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

With her dad gone, it just makes it worse.

These next few weeks are going to be hard, and the least he could do is think with his head to keep things simple between the two of them. He heads back to bed late enough for it to almost not be worth it. 

He wakes to the sound of chaos over the comms, that same last conversation, those snowy peaks behind his eyelids. 

Mouth dry, heart thudding, his eyes are still shut when he stumbles out into the hall and twists the bathroom door handle. It jams, and he remembers. The sounds of water coming from behind the door stops abruptly.

Peeking her head around the shower curtain, already wincing, Avery calls back out to him. “Sorry! I’ll just be a second!”

“No — sorry, take as long as you want.” He calls back, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. Restless and anxious, he splashes cold water across his face and thinks about Pete.

He saw Mav do this insurmountable times. He remembers all of the mornings that Mav would wake up gasping, shaking, and he would head straight for the bathroom, bolting the door. He’d come back out okay again. He wonders if Mav still did it, even all these years later.

If he still heard Goose’s voice through the comms, calling him out of his dreams. 

The thought makes him shudder. The bathroom door unlocking makes him flinch, looking up sharply. 

Avery steps out of the bathroom, her hair still dry and tied back, droplets of water still beading along the skin and flowing under the plush blue towel she had taken from the linen closet. He had told her to help herself, but he’s staring at her now and she’s second guessing herself.

He stands at his kitchen sink, his hands braced against the countertop, his knuckles white. She barely even notices his little Calvin Kleins. Her brows knit together as she takes a step toward him, barely visible around the corner.

“Hey… are you okay?” Her face creases with concern, lingering in the hallway so that he can see her just enough.

He remembers to let go of the countertop.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, unconvincingly, reaching up and shaking a hand through his tangled curls. He takes a second, trying to gather his thoughts enough to keep the conversation moving. “Were you still thinking you’re gonna need a job while you’re here?”

She blinks, her scrunched up face relaxing as she takes another step closer, cocking her head at him.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

He nods. “Get dressed. We’ll go see my friend in a bit, can see if it’s something you might be interested in. Maybe, then we’ll take your car to a mechanic this afternoon.” 

Out of the house, he feels like he can breathe again. It’s just sleeping, that’s all. When he’s really awake, he can control it all a little better, it doesn’t get to him as much.

He drives the same way he had yesterday. Three fingers around the bottom of the wheel, seventies music playing. Today, the windows are down. Avery makes a pretty good passenger — she doesn’t ask him to change his music and she doesn’t put her head in the way when he’s trying to check his mirrors.

Mainly because she isn’t once watching the road, but that’s okay. 

She looks around the city like she’s seeing it for the first time. Mav lived her for longer than she’s been alive — and the entire place seems foreign to her.

Bradley knows both of his parents’ hometowns like the back of his hand, and he still hasn’t ever lived in either one of them. 

“Did your dad ever tell you about Penny?” He asks so calmly, drumming his fingers along the wheel, Ray-Ban caravans sitting across the bridge of his nose.

The look that Avery shoots him gives him more than enough of an answer. She sets her phone down in her lap and studies him, frowning slightly.

“Who’s Penny?”

Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

With one quick glance across, he catches the little frown settling across her lips.

“She owns that bar on Breakers Beach. We drove past it yesterday when we saw Admiral Simpson?” Bradley prompts her, glancing across at the passenger seat. She nods along. “I texted her yesterday and she really wanted to meet you, said you can have some shifts there if you want them.”

Avery wrinkles her nose, trying not to frown across at him when he’s doing his best to just be helpful.

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. 

“She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” 

Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

But, he had heard of Mav’s experience with Penny Benjamin a long time before he had actually gotten to meet Penny Benjamin. Really, he’s surprised to find that Avery has never heard of her, she and Mav were really on and off for quite a while.

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

Which means that he would want Bradley to keep the fact that he had seen Mav and Penny leave the bar together three times in the weeks leading the mission to himself too.

“Yeah. Like a long time ago.” He confirms.

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.”

Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Reaching across the centre console, he gives her knee a quick squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mitchell.”

Briefly, his palm lingers there. It’s just because he’s focusing on turning into the parking lot, but it’s still his large palm hugging the curve of her knee for a minute longer than it should have.

Completely over the thick protection of her jeans, but she stares at the touch anyways. Then, she dares to look back up at him. Totally relaxed as he pulls into a spot up front like it’s his own personal one. 

One more squeeze, and he takes his hand back and swings open the door. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the middle of the week at noon.

 Avery follows him out of the vehicle, gingerly matching his pace as he heads inside. It’s once he’s spotted that she falters. 

“Rooster!” Someone even taller than he is comes marching up right away and throws his arms around Bradley. Bradley hugs him loosely, greeting him with an aloof but firm pat of the back.

“Payback.” He greets quietly.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you. How are you holding up?” His warm eyes bore into Bradley, his head bowed slightly and his voice sincere. He hasn’t spotted her yet.

“I’m alright,” Bradley sounds convincing enough, but this Payback guy hadn’t seen how rattled Bradley had looked this morning. “This is Avery.” 

Finally, Payback’s gaze flickers to the girl standing behind Rooster. Halfway tucked behind his shoulder, staring at him through her lashes, looking totally lost and sheepish.

“Mav’s kid?”

In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Still, he smiles at her like he means it and nods his head respectfully.

“Already got it, it’ll be good to have you around, Avery.” 

A small smile works its way across her lips, grateful if not anything else.

“Nice to meet you.” She answers him quietly, stiff against Bradley’s side. He pats her back and urges her forwards.

“Here, this is Penny. Penny, meet your new bartender.”

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago.

That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Penny cocks her head to the side, just a bit. Sure, she can see semblances of Pete in the girl across from her, but it’s the rigid, flighty look in her eyes that catches Penny’s attention. 

Across from her is someone with something to prove, and a character they’ve been playing for a long time now. That’s what feels most familiar.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Avery says stiffly, trying to sound like she means it. 

Penny nods, smiling. She glances towards Bradley, then back to the girl still tucked under his arm.

“You too. Let’s talk.” 

As Jimmy takes over the bar duties, Bradley’s left with the prospect of facing his friends when Penny and Avery disappear toward the back deck.

He scratches at the back of his neck, shooting one last look at the two of them over his shoulder, and wondering what he’s supposed to say to all of those guys. 

One by one, he could manage… but all in a group like that? — He hasn’t seen most of them since it happened. 

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

He heads for her as coolly as he can manage, hoping that the other guys know not to give him a hard time today. They don’t, they never would. 

His therapist says it’s a defensive thing, the way he waits for people to say the wrong thing. When he’s hurt, he expects it, almost. He’s trying to get out of it. 

They can all give him credit for that.

Even so, it doesn’t take long for conversation to fade from small talk to the newest, most exciting subject.

“So, she’s staying at your place?” Natasha’s the first one to bring up the missing party, picking up on a comment about the two of them arriving together.

Bradley shakes his head and fiddles with his root beer bottle. “No, she’ll be over at Mav’s place once we get her car fixed up. It’s a real piece of shit, I don’t even know what they’d do to make it run any better.”

“Mav loves cars — and he lets her drive a shitbox like that?” It’s Javy who scoffs that out, the only one still talking about the Captain who had taken a shine to him in present tense. 

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

“She came all the way down here by herself?” Callie asks. She doesn’t say it, but she’s referring to the fact that her mother came all the way out to Lemoore to try to move her into the barracks like it was college when she was that age. 

Bradley shrugs again. He hasn’t heard much about Avery’s mom in the past twenty years, he isn’t even sure that he ever met her — certainly wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd. All he knows is the gossip he’d gotten from his mom when it was all going down. 

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

“Okay, I think.” Bradley muses, thinking of how quickly Avery had questioned the recovery efforts yesterday. “I dunno how close they were, but it’s always gotta be hard. Just… trying to make it a little easier on her, I guess.” 

They all nod, slowly.

And then Avery comes marching back inside, her chin high and her hair a little wind-swept, making a beeline right for the closest thing she’s got to a friend in this town.

“Hey.” Bradley offers her a smile, and reaches out for her. His hand grazes the back of her bicep, and she smiles more genuinely than she has in the past two days.

“Hi.”

He catches sight of himself being watched, and takes a look back over Avery’s shoulder to find Penny looking. Her blue eyes flicker down to his hand on Avery’s arm. 

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

He blinks, and finds his friends looking back at him expectantly. 

“So, you’re taking the job?” He checks, shaking off Penny’s watchful eyes and settling back into what he knows. Avery nods her head at him.

“Starting tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. That’s way soon. He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t keep her up until four in the morning watching the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw tonight. 

“Well, guys, say hi to your new bartender.” 

He brings the bottle of rootbeer back up to his lips and shoots a quick glance back over Avery’s shoulder. Penny stares back, unfazed, as he narrows his eyes back at her.

What does she know about anything, anyways?

…

[sercphs]

@grislyintentions sc - freminet

⠀⠀⠀⠀The gentle clinking of a spoon against the edge of her teacup, her gaze fixed on the amber liquid within the vessel. The approach of the child is not openly acknowledged, but it is entirely expected. She had, of course, been responsible for summoning him.

"Freminet. Take a seat."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Simple, and to the point.

[w2soneshots]

I’ve missed you -W2S

words: 0.9k+

warnings: none.

summary: Harry comes to pick you up from the airport after a week with your family in Norway. Then he brings you to dinner with his friends to meet them for the first time.

notes: this fic was based off of this request!🙂 I hope you enjoy my lovelies💗🫶🏼

I met Harry four months ago. We immediately hit it off and have been together ever since. We're still in the early stages of our relationship, so I'm yet to meet his friends. Last week I left to go and see my family in Norway, which is where I've lived my entire life until last year when I moved to London. Me and Harry have spent most of our time together these past few months so it was really weird not seeing him for a week. Though we face-timed every night and I was constantly texting and sending pictures to him.

Today I'm flying home. My dad dropped me off at the airport and with one final hug we said goodbye. I checked in, went through security and was soon sat on the plane waiting to take off. I made sure to text Harry that I'd be landing in around two hours, since he insisted on picking me up. I listen to music and read for the entire time, so before I knew it we were landing.

I walked out of the huge glass doors and stopped as I looked around. When my eyes caught Harry's my heart rate began to speed up. A smile spread across my face and he quickly made his way towards me. "Hey!" He pulled me into a warm embrace. I wrapped my arms around his torso. "Hi." As we pulled away he smiled at me, then pulled a white bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "Oh my god Harry, they're beautiful!" I beamed. "I've missed you." He placed them in my hands. "I've missed you too, and thank you." I pushed myself onto my tip toes to peck his lips.

Once we got in the uber Harry had booked (since he absolutely hates driving, especially in London) we headed back to his apartment. When we got inside I took a shower to wash the plane smell off of me. Then I got ready because tonight I'm going to dinner with Harry, Ethan, Faith, Simon, Talia, Josh, Freya, JJ and Tobi. Harry has already given me the rundown on their names, what they look like and who's with who. I'm really excited to meet them and take the next big step in mine and Harry's relationship.

After making myself look presentable with, makeup and a nice outfit I left the bathroom. Harry sat on the bed and immediately looked up at me. "How do I look?" I asked jokingly with a twirl. He stood up "you look incredible." He complimented. "Why thank you." I smiled.

My leg shook slightly and I picked at my nails as we pulled up to the restaurant. Harry noticed this so placed his hand on my knee. "Everything's gonna be fine they'll love you." He soothed. I nodded then took a deep breath, intertwining my hand with his.

When we got inside we were quickly taken to our table where almost all of Harry friends sat. I politely smiled and immediately the girls stood up to greet me. "I'm Faith. It's so nice to finally meet you!" She pulled me into a quick hug. I introduced myself to the rest of the girls then looked back over to Harry who was already fondly observing at me. Unbeknownst to the both of us Ethan and Josh were nudging each other and whispering about how 'in love' Harry looked.

Once we sat down (me between Harry and Talia) we ordered some drinks. "So y/n how did you n bog meet?" Tobi asked. Harry had already forwarded me about his "stupid nickname" as he'd put it. "Um, well we bumped into each other and he knocked my bag out of my hand. Then we knocked heads as we both bent down to get it." I laughed lightly as I remembered the awkward interaction. "That sounds like it came straight out of a movie." Freya added.

Harry's hand sat comfortably on the top of my thigh as we chatted. I was soon fully comfortable around everyone and was having a great chat with Faith about her and Ethan's daughter, Olive. When our food arrived, all of the girls (including me) told the boys to "wait!" while we took a picture. The boys all groaned and then burst out laughing at the synchronised annoyance.

While we waited for dessert everyone was having their own little conversations. "So what's toffee pudding in Norwegian?" He asked. I giggled "it's just toffee pudding." "Oh. Well then what's," he took his time to think "thank you?" "Takk skal du ha." I replied. "Takk skal du ha." He repeated. I nodded "ye pretty much." I lifted myself from my seat "I'm just gonna go to the toilet, I'll be two seconds." Harry smiled "ok see you in a minute."

Harry's pov:

I watched as y/n walked away then turned back to the table to see the boys giggling. "What?" I asked, with my brows furrowed. "Harry you're so whipped." Simon stated. My face softened "well I really like her so... I don't mind." "I'm really happy for you bog, she seems really lovely." JJ said sincerely. "Ye it's nice to see you finally with someone." Ethan added. "It's not been that long has it?!" I asked, referring to Ethan's "finally". He chuckled "It's been like four years mate."

Your pov:

I returned to the table a few minutes later and sat back down next to Harry. "Did I miss anything important?" I asked. "Not really, the boys were just reminding me how long it's been since I've been with someone." I raised my brows "oh, why?" "Because they're glad I've finally found someone amazing as you." He whispered into my ear. A pink blush spread across my cheeks. Harry chuckled then placed his hand back onto my thigh.

[forbebeandjam]

STEP | BADA LEE X FEM READER | 21+

Summary: You see your first love for the first time in three years at your father's engagement party.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: VERY Explicit language and scenes. SMUT!!! 21+ Ex. Thigh riding, fingering, etc... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVICED

A/N: Hello •u• I am brand new to this app and I... I feel like a baby learning how to walk but l am also happy I got to find this app... again... after five years ANYWAY!! I bring this small piece of work I made hoping you'll like it!! I don’t know how often I’ll post on here but I’ll keep you updated ☺️ Also feel free to check out my Wattpad books!! And thank you @dearminaa for your help!! You are awesome!

P.S. apology for any mistakes or errors in grammar. English is not my first language!!

You sat in front of your vanity getting ready for the party. A party to congratulate your father's recent engagement.

You couldn't care less on who he decided to marry this time. It was probably the same as the last person he married. Young, stupid, and a gold digger that only wants his wealth but will end up failing and he will divorce her. You could never forgive him for cheating on your sick mother.

You blame him for her death because he decided to cheat while she was in the hospital and when you took her home for a while, you two found him in bed with some girl. You mother become depressed and died a few day after that

You tried to push aside those thoughts and get ready. You were still dependent on him after all and had plans to take the company away from him. As you fixed you blush, you did one more brush stroke and looked through your jewelry box.

There, you spotted a choker your first love had given you. You met her in high school. She was two years older than you but you love her like you've never loved anyone and she was always there to comfort you when your mother passed.

She was your first kiss, your first love, and your first girlfriend. The day she graduated she was offered a big scholarship in the United States and since she was poor she decided to take the opportunity. You become so mad at her that you pushed her away and broke up with her. A few days later you received a box with that necklace inside and you kept it to cherish the beautiful relationship you two had.

-

"You look gorgeous, honey," your father said as he hugged you. You didn't return the hug and just stood there.

"Be nice to her okay? She's had a rough life. She suffer a lot and I really like her. Please?" He said and you looked at him with a wry smile.

"How much do you think mom suffered when dying, knowing you were fucking the maids daughter?" You whispered in his ear.

"Stop that. I made a mistake and I regret it. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. Now try to be nice to her and drop the attitude," he whispered back making you roll your eyes and sit back down.

A few minutes went by and the so called fiancé was no where to be seen. You sighed resting your chin on you palm until you spotted a familiar figure. Tall, slim yet well built and the same hair from years ago. You bit your lip as a scream was about to escape your lips. You didn't know why she was there.

You followed her figure until she reached the table and with a big smile she greeted your father.

"Bada, my darling. Was there traffic on the way?" Your father said a she placed his hand around Bada's waist. She didn't answer and just nodded before turning to you.

"Oh! This is my daughter. Honey, greet your future step-," he said and you stood up. You couldn't form a sentence and were already about to bust in tears.

"Hi." You said in a quick manner before looking away. Her eyes were scanning each part of your body. The outfit you were wearing was driving her insane and she didn't know how to hold back from touching you... and she didn't.

She placed hand index finger and thumb under your chin and turned your head towards her. You were startled by her actions so you froze under her touch.

"She's beautiful," Bada said. Her eyes showed sincerity and warmth but you were too upset to see it. You took her hand and tossing it away you excuse yourself leaving the guests astonished by your actions.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll go talk to her," your father said as he was about to get up but Bada held his arm.

"Let me. I think it's best if we have a conversation from woman to woman. I'll ease my way into her heart, okay? Don't worry,"

"Just how you eased your way into mine. You're just perfect," your father said and Bada gave him a soft smile before walking out the door you went through.

You wonder the halls of the mansion talking to yourself. You were beyond mad, confused, and heart broken. How could your first love be engaged to your father? Your heels clacked and suddenly you began to hear an additional set of footsteps. You looked back but there was no one so you assumed it was one of the servers hired for the party.

"After three years of not seeing or talking to me she shows up. And she's going to marry my father? How disgusting can he be? She swore she would come back to me and she's with him. She can go fuck herself for all I care. I hate her guts. She's so annoying yet so beautiful and... I want her so badly. Am I the sick one? Oh, for fuck sake! I'm talking to myself," you rambled on and on.

"How about you talk to me instead?" You jumped when you heard Bada's voice but immediately kept walking towards your room ignoring her presence next to you.

She grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room where she assumed was your room and she was right. She pushed you against the wall and you let out a squirm as she did so.

"Let me go, you psycho! What is wrong with you!?" You shouted and pushed her away from you. She stumbled a back and chuckled. You look at her with a scowl. How could she find this funny when your blood was boiling?

"You find this funny? You're an asshole," you pushed her to the side and sat on your vanity trying to ignore her so she would go away. Your mind was clouded with thoughts and emotions so you fumbled trying to get the necklace off of your neck.

Instead of walking out of the door, Bada walked up to you and moved your hair to the side. She carefully took the necklace off and you began to melt under her soft touch. She put it in your hand and you just placed it on the vanity not caring where it landed.

"Why... why are you marrying him? My dad. You said you would come back and... I waited. I waited for three years and when I finally see you again you are engaged to... that? Why the fuck!?" You shouted not holding back anymore. Your tears began to fall and she only softened her gaze.

She walked to you slowly and took you hand while you wiped your tears away.

"I'm not going to marry him. I came here for you, my love," she said as she cupped your face.

"Don't. Don't do this Bada. If you're just going to break my heart and walk away from me again, just leave and go with my father," you said looking away but she pulled you into an embrace.

"Baby, look at me. I would never leave you again. Never again. I'll do everything I can to be next to you always..." he hand traveled from your cheek to your exposed shoulder. You shivered at her touch and then she planted a kiss on your shoulder making you bite your lip to prevent any noises from escaping your mouth.

"You have no idea how much I longed to touch you. To kiss you and make you mine. That is all I could think about. You wouldn't leave my mind for one second all I could think about was for a way to come back to you," she whispered into your ear as she walked. You took small step back until your legs hit the bed.

Her hands were on your arms and her gentle touch made it hard for you to hold back. You used your hand to create some space between you and her. You couldn't deny that you wanted her to touch you. You wanted her to make you her but you were sacred. Not if your dad. Never if your dad. He was a weak man after all, but she was engaged to him.

"Please promise me that you won't leave. That after this, you won't walk away from me. I will run away with you if we need to but please don't continue this if you can't promise me that," you said as you closed your eyes.

She cupped your face and you opened your eyes at the sudden skin contact.

"I promise with my life. I will never even again leave, my love. I will stay by your side and we can do whatever you want. We can stay or run away and I will be there because I love you and I should've never left but I had to think of my mother. Please understand. I'm so sorry," a tear escaped her eyes as she was practically begging for you to forgive her and understand her reasoning and you did.

You nodded and wiped her tears before kissing her lips. You kissed her hungrily and she responded with the same intensity. The kiss become for sloppy and wet as snacking sounds began to fill the room. You thanked your father for the first time for making the rooms sound proof.

"Tell me you want it. Tell me how you want it and how badly you want it. Tell me what you want," Bada said as she left love bites in your neck.

"I want you. I want all of you. I want you to touch me everywhere. I want you to fuck me, please," you said and let out a loud moan as she dragged her tongue across your collarbone.

"I didn't know you were so needy, my love. But you're such a good girl using your nice words for me," Bada said as she pushed you lightly on the bed. Your legs were slightly parted and she took the opportunity to crawl on top of you placing her knee in between your legs and slight pushing into your folds.

You moaned at the contact and moved your hips searching for more friction but her hands immediately went to your hips to halt your movements.

"Wait a minute, baby. I want to be the one to please you," she said sending you over the edge. You bit your lip and groaned in desperation . You need her touch. You wanted her so badly and when you opened and saw her remover her bra you almost came untouched letting out whispers and moans

"Calm down, baby. I'm all yours and I'm not going anywhere," she said as she lowered herself on you. She admired how your legas partner with no shorts and your panties were soaked. She pulled them down and kissed right above your sensitive bud making you part your legs even more. You wanted her and you couldn't handle any more emptiness.

"Bada, please..." you whispered.

"Yes, my love. Anything for you,"she immediately attacked you clit with her tongue and used her hand to pull you dress down revealing your tender breast and she didn't hesitate to begins massaging it as her tongue flicked on your bud in all the right ways that were making you let out moan after moan.

Your nipples were perky and sensitive and she let go of them to instead one finger into you. You were still a virgin so you felt a bit of pain as you felt her go in a cried out loud. She looked up at you. You were the most beautiful thing. Your skin glistened as small beads of sweat formed on your forehead. Your face was flushed in a a bright pink color and she moved up to kiss you tenderly still inside of you.

"It's okay. I'll be gentle. See?" She said as she began to slowly move her finger allowing you to adjust to the feeling. She placed soft kisses on your cheeks, forehead, lips, and chest helping you ease out the pain.

You slowly began to moan in please as you felt the pain dissipate and she sped up a little. You lips were slightly parted and your hand made it way to her breast. The soft skin was so pleasant you wanted to taste it. Using you elbows, you pushed yourself up and put her nipple in you mouth sucking and lightly tugging with your teeth. She began to let out soft and deep moans.

"That feels so good, my love. I'm going to add another finger okay, lay down for me and hold my hand," she intertwined your hands together.

She added a second finger and you felt like you were levitating as her warm tongue assaulted your clit. You felt her curl her fingers inside of you and you clenched around her as you felt an odd sensation at the pit of your stomach.

"Bada... Bada, fuck~ please. Let me cum please!" You begged as you back lifted from the mattress. She slowed down her pace making you  take a a hold of her hair and tugging.

"That wasn't nice, my love," she completely pulled out leaving you feeling empty and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I'm sorry. I just need you. Please~" you whined softly as your eyes begged for release.

"Please what?" She asked.

"Please, baby. Please, Bada," you said and she smiled as she thrusted into you with great force. You yelled at the unexpected motion but you began to moan as her tongue started to work on your bud once again but this time she was slight biting down making you shout her name in pleasure. A pleasure you had never experienced before and when you least expected you released on her feeling a pulsating feeling as she licked you clean and then her fingers.

"You taste so good, my love. All of these years of waiting finally paid off. Now helped me," she said. You were still trying to come back to your senses as everything was blurry and you could only see how she was undressing herself. Your dress was now bunched on your waist.

She hovered above you and you felt a wet warmth on your thigh. When your vision was finally adjusted, you saw her beautiful figure on top of you. Her fringe stuck to her forehead as she was riding your thigh trying to reach her high.

Your hands traveled down to her waist as you helped her ride you. You used one of your hands to rub on your clit once more and she watched you actions letting out shaky breaths and moans biting her lip.

"You look beautiful riding me like that, baby. Keep going. Cum for me. Cum in me please," you said making her roll her eyes back as her hands rested on your breast for support and with a loud moan she came on your thigh. You sided your fingers to collect her juices and taste her the way she did with you.

"Fuck, that was so good,"you said and she collapsed on top of you. The two of you lay there for a few minutes as you were still throbbing with pleasure and catching your breath.

After a few minutes, Bada fixed your position removing the dress you had on and you both cuddled your bare bodies under the covers.

"Thank you," you said. Bada pulled you closer to her.

"For what, my love?" She asked as she planted multiple kisses on your shoulder.

"For this. For coming back and for loving me," you replied as you turned your body to face her and play with a stand of her hair. You admired her body. Beautiful as always. Then when you saw a ring on her finger, it hit you. She was way out to marry your dad and you just let her fuck you... You felt like a monster. You were no different than your dad.

"Bada, I think this was a mistake. You're marrying my father and this doesn't make me any better than him," you said on the verge of tears but she quickly embraced you.

"How about we go down and I explain everything to you. Trust me, okay? Nothing is what it seems," she helped you stand up and you both got dressed. You fixed you hair into a high ponytail and fixed your makeup as well when you  noticed how messy your face looked.

Bada also fixed herself and held you hand. You made your way down the stairs and into the big hall where majority of the guests had already gone home. That's when you saw you father kissing a woman around his age. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Mom!" Bada shouted and the woman turned to you with a bright smile.

"This is, Y/N. The girl I always told you about," Bada said and the lady pulled you into a hug.

"Wow! You're even prettier in person. I'm so glad I get to finally meet you. Bada and your father have talked wonders about you and do not feel pressured to call me mom or step mom. You can just call me Haneul," the woman said and you started to put the pieces together.

"I'll go to your father now. He seems to need me but let's all go on a ladies fun day one of these days. Bye girls. Y/N, honey... cover your neck," she said and waved before walking off.

Your face tired a bright shade of pink making Bada laugh. Bada pulled you out to the balcony where there was no one around before anyone could see the marks she left on your neck.

"You see? I'm not marrying your father. My mom is. When I saw her get engaged and I saw your father I didn't hesitate one second to leave it all behind and come here with you," she said and you internally smacked your face at how dumb and clueless you had been.

"I'm sorry, Bada. I should've listened and now I just feel stupid," you said as you lowered your head. She used her index finger and thumb to raise your chin and kiss your lips with tenderness and love.

"It's okay. I'm here and I'm here to stay. I love you so much," she said and connect your forged with hers.

"I guess now we are even," you said making her chuckle. She hugged you from behind placing her chin on your shoulder and you two watched the sunset with sweet kisses and soft laughs.

[collegeishardbutwritingisharder]

Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Little Brother Reader Headcanons/Short Story(?)

Sunshine child time! I've actually had a good idea for Kalim for the longest time and I'm excited about it so let's go! Fun fact: when I started writing this, I just came up with a second brother for Kalim. I hate myself for this.

Warnings: Clingy Yandere

Kalim Al-Asim

Brother A:

You're the second oldest in the Asim line. It's also useful to note that you are the only one who is also Kalim's full brother.

You absolutely adore your older brother and the adoration is fully returned. You two are barely ever seen apart. Heck, when you both were tiny, if you were separated for two seconds, Kalim would start full on bawling. Your parents killed two birds with one stone and had you two share a room.

You two were basically the same person, mainly for the fact alone that you tried to mimic Kalim's every move. Your parents would start to call you 'Tiny Kalim' as a joke but it stuck for years.

"Kalim! Tiny Kalim! It's time for dinner!"

"Yay! Come on, Tiny Kalim! I heard that it's a whole buffet!"

"Coming! Is Jali joining us?"

"He should already be down there!"

"Okay!"

We both ran throughout the house to the dining room. We were so excited to eat what was made! We both enjoyed a big feast.

"I wonder if they have curry!"

"I hope that they have some coconut juice to drink!"

We both took our seats at the table and started bouncing up and down. Food always got us into an excitable mood.

"Alright, alright calm down."

"Jamil!"

"Jali!"

Jali was a nickname that I came up with for Jamil when I first started to learn how to talk. If I had a nickname, that meant I was going to give everyone else a nickname as well. I call Kalim Big Bro more often than not but sometimes, I call him Carpet Rider. He's really talented at flying a carpet.

"Here you go, Kalim."

Jamil set a plate of food in front of Kalim and made sure that nobody else touched the food. Kalim let out a light cheer before digging into his food. I had to wait for another twenty minutes before a servant brought me my food. I let out my own cheer.

I got my utensils and grabbed a big bite.

"Hehehe, Tiny Kalim!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I looked to see who it was. I turned back to see Kalim eat my food.

"Hey!"

"Hahahaha!"

This was always a normal interaction between you and Kalim.

When your other siblings came into the picture, you both tried to make sure that everyone felt welcomed into the family. All of the games that you would play would result in complete chaos. Mainly for the fact that everyone would lose who was It.

Your mother kept a careful watch over her two children to make sure that the other mistresses wouldn't dare hurt you two.

Although that doesn't stop them from trying to get you to hurt Kalim.

"Hey, Tiny Kalim. Come over here for a second will ya?"

"Huh? Yeah, do you need something?"

"Could you do me a favor and put the contents of this vial into your older brother's drink?"

"Maybe?"

"If you do, I'll make sure that you get a sweet treat~"

I just stayed silent but took the vial from the lady. She's the mother of my fourth and fifth younger siblings, who are very sweet to me. I don't want her to be thrown out and lose those two.

I looked at the vial a little closer and saw the skull and crossbones etched into the glass. Another poison... Why does everyone come to me to poison my brother? Thankfully, I know exactly what to do with this anyway!

"Hey! Hey, Mr. Ver!"

"Huh? Oh! It's Tiny Kalim! What brings you here?"

"I was just out on the town when I remembered you talking about how a weed completely took over your favorite flower bed. Do you think that this type of poison will clear it out?"

"Hmmm, let me take a little looksie."

Mr. Ver took the vial from me and poured it on a recently fallen leaf. It took only thirty seconds for the leaf to just shrivel up on itself. If Kalim actually drank that...

"Wow! Good choice, Tiny Kalim! Thank you for being so considerate!"

I only gave him a shaky smile and a quick nod of my head. I needed to go find Jamil and warn him.

"Tiny Kalim!!"

Nevermind, my job just got easier.

Kalim tackled me in a behind hug and squeezed extremely tight. I let out a laugh before enveloping Kalim's arms with my own.

"Hiya, Kalim! Do you know where Jali is?"

"Over here, (Y/N)."

I looked over to Jamil and I gave him a slight wave. I then looked back to Kalim.

"Big Bro, would you mind if I talked with Jamil alone for a few seconds?"

Kalim's smile dropped and his eyes became dull for like two seconds. It was like it never happened because his smile came back full force.

"Of course!"

There was a slight strain to his voice but I just brushed it off as a bad day. I grabbed Jamil's arm and walked out of hearing range while still able to keep Kalim in our sight.

"What did you want to talk about with me, (Y/N)?"

"Our father's third wife gave me poison to give to Kalim. I just wanted to warn you so you can keep a close eye on him."

"Hmmm, thank you for the warning, (Y/N). It's greatly appreciated."

I gave Jamil a nod. It's so weird to hear my actual name instead of Tiny Kalim. But it felt really nice.

This wasn't the only time you were given poison and then figured out how to get rid of it.

You were also given small weapons and some money but you were prepared for that as well. Whenever you got a weapon, you went to the hunters to find out if they could use it. They were willing to take whatever weapons you had and gave you even more money for them. Then you would take whatever money that you got from selling the weapons and the money that you were given and give it all to Jamil. The man needs the money more than anybody else does.

Sadly, your 'tricks' put a target on your back as well.

"Hrk!"

"Tiny Kalim?!"

I felt my stomach convulse and out came the food that I had just eaten. Normally, that wouldn't freak me out if it wasn't for the fact that there was also some blood in what I threw up. And my body wasn't done yet.

Jamil quickly grabbed some of my food and put it in a plant. The plant shriveled up, making my eyes tear up. I should have been expected to be poisoned.

"His food was poisoned. We need to get him to a healer!"

Kalim picked me up and sprinted towards the healer's office. My body was still heaving, trying to throw more and more up even though my stomach was empty. This was very painful.

"Please! Help my little brother!"

"Oh my! Please set him down!"

I felt the healer work and let out a sigh of relief. Kalim looked extremely terrified by the fact that I was poisoned. The amount of tension that I had in my body released and I blacked out.

When I came back to reality, Kalim was sitting by my side, clutching my hand tightly. I don't even think that blood could flow naturally in my hand with how tight Kalim was gripping it. I weakly tried to get him to let go of my hand but it notified him that I was awake and I got trapped in a bear hug.

It's safe to say that you could barely leave Kalim's side after that.

Kalim was terrified at the thought of losing his only full sibling and felt useless about the fact that he couldn't protect you.

He demanded that Jamil would also be at your beck and call for the fact that and I quote 'Tiny Kalim needs Jamil more than I could ever!'

It's also safe to say that Kalim was less friendly to your other siblings. Still be courteous to them but refusing to let them play with you.

"Tiny Kalim! Tiny Kalim!"

I turned around to see Malik and Maia, twins by the way, running towards me, holding what seemed to be new toys. Not that surprising considering their birthday was only two days ago.

"Tiny Kalim! We haven't seen you for what feels like forever! Come and play with us!"

"I would lo-"

"(Y/N)."

I turned my head to Jamil, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. As always, he had a poker face on.

"Yes, Jali?"

"Kalim has requested your presence."

"Ah, I see."

I then turned back to the twins and gave them a sad smile.

"Sorry guys. But it seems like our older brother needs me for something."

"Awwwwww, but we really wanted to play with you."

"I know. How about this? As soon as I'm done with whatever Big Bro needs from me, I'll come and find you as soon as possible! Then we can play the night away!"

"YAY!"

Now with Malik and Maia happy once again, I started to follow Jamil to wherever Kalim was.

"You do realize that Kalim most likely won't let you go before it's way past their bedtime right?"

"Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out what he wants from me this time. This is the fifth time that he has called me today alone! It's over a hundred if you count the rest of the week."

"I did take count. With this call, the count becomes 134."

"Oh goodness. How long do those meetings take normally?"

"Six hours is the average that Kalim will keep you normally."

"I need to talk about this with Big Bro."

You tried to talk with Kalim about the current monopoly that he was trying to have over your time.

Kalim decided to pull one of his best tactics.

"Monopoly over your time? Do you really believe that I'm trying to be selfish? I'm just trying to protect you, Tiny Kalim!"

"Big Bro, I don't have any doubts that you're only concerned about my well being but! It has been feeling like you're trying to prevent me from hanging out with anybody else lately. Well, other than Jali."

"I'm quite hurt that you would blame me like this. I guess that you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true! I still love you, Big Bro!"

"Then why must you push me away so often?!"

Kalim's eyes were starting to well up with tears and were quickly overflowing. He broke down into tears while huge sobs escaped from his mouth. I felt my heart twist at the sounds. The feeling was awful in my chest. I walked towards Kalim before enveloping him in a hug of my own.

"Please don't cry, Big Bro. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings! I was just being dramatic! I won't push you away again."

"Do you promise?"

Kalim's eyes were so broken. The tears streaming down his face added to the pain in my chest.

"I promise."

Ever since that promise was made, Kalim made sure that you would never leave his side. Wherever Kalim went, he made sure that you were coming along or would tell Jamil to drag you along.

You can't really remember the last time that you were truly alone. Either Jamil was in the same room, staring from the corner or you would be right by Kalim's side.

This persisted until it was time for Jamil to leave for NRC.

Kalim and I were watching as Jamil was getting ready to enter a black carriage. A smile was present on my face while Kalim was basically vibrating with excitement.

"Bye, Jamil! Have fun and stay safe!"

"Yeah! It's going to feel slightly lonely without you around!"

"Hehe, it'll be fine without me. You two have each other after all."

After those parting words, Jamil entered the coffin and the carriage rode off with him. Despite the fact that he couldn't see us, Kalim and I were waving our arms in the air until the carriage was no longer in sight.

"You know? You're right. It already does feel a bit lonelier without him."

"I know! Either way, let's go back inside. I want to play some Mancala with you, Tiny Kalim!"

When Jamil left, your mother and father took extra precautions with you. Since Kalim's most trusted servant was no longer available, they upped your guard count to make sure that neither you nor Kalim would be left alone.

Eventually, Kalim's magic appeared and he showed your parents. Everybody was overjoyed for Kalim and threw a party to celebrate him.

Shortly after the party and two months after Jamil left, an invitation from NRC arrived for Kalim!

Everyone was enthused! Well, almost everyone.

"NO!"

"KALIM! Do not fight with me! This is a huge honor!"

"Not unless Tiny Kalim is coming along as well!"

I kept my ear pressed close to the doors while the argument persisted. Kalim tried to burn the invitation when he got it and it sparked this argument. Dad wasn't very happy with how Kalim was acting. But Kalim wasn't completely above throwing a mild tantrum.

I stepped away from the door before sitting between two of our guards. I looked at both of them but neither of them dared to meet my gaze. I closed my eyes and wondered about how we reached here. Kalim's possessiveness, my willingness to play along, Jamil leaving. Kalim has become basically entitled to all of my attention.

I'm mildly hoping that Mom and Dad say no. Maybe the separation will benefit both of us.

"WAHOO!"

But that scream tells me otherwise.

Yep, Kalim was able to convince your parents to pull some strings to get you a ticket into NRC as well.

You were two months late into the school year but since Jamil has been there, he was able to catch you both up to speed.

"JAMIL!"

Jamil's head whipped around so fast that I was afraid of his neck getting hurt. Kalim basically body slammed him to the ground while I was running to catch up with both of them.

"KALIM?!"

"Yep! Did you miss us?"

Kalim was slightly bouncing while still keeping a strong grip on Jamil's shoulders.

"Us?"

"Hi, Jali!"

Jamil then saw me standing a bit away from the two. I gave him a slight smile and wave. Jamil's face displayed shock before he schooled his expression. Kalim finally got off of him and stood up. Once Jamil was on his feet, I gave him a hug of my own. No point in knocking him back down.

Jamil cleared his throat before talking.

"What brings you two here?"

"We're joining NRC!"

Jamil's eyes widened and Kalim took that as a sign to elaborate.

"I'm able to use magic now after many years of practice! I kept trying and trying and trying. But now, it has finally clicked! I got a letter a few days ago and tada~! Now, we're here!"

"That explains why you're here. But why is (Y/N) here?"

"I'm here because-"

"How could I possibly let Tiny Kalim be on his own?! We've been together since he was born! Not to mention, how would I be able to keep a proper eye on him?!"

Kalim interrupted me again. He has been getting into the habit of speaking for me. I guess I'm to blame for that as well.

Jamil only nodded his head before muttering stuff under his breath.

NRC days seemed to be pretty much the same to you as days in the palace.

Hang out in Kalim's room, eat with Kalim, hang out with Kalim and go to classes with Kalim.

You had tried to make new friends with the people of the dorm but Kalim always sent Jamil to find you. It was amazing how he knew whenever you had free time.

"Isn't NRC so cool?"

Kalim and I were resting on his bed staring at his ceiling. He recently became dorm leader. How? We have no idea other than Crowley randomly telling him one morning.

"Yeah, I guess."

I haven't been able to see much of NRC if I'm being honest. The most that I've seen outside of Scarabia are the classrooms. Before Kalim goes to his after school activities, he drops me off in our room. And to add insult to injury, he also locks the door behind him.

"You guess?! Come on, Tiny Kalim! This place has basically everything! Plus, everybody is really nice!"

I wouldn't know, considering I can't talk with any of them since Jamil always comes and interrupts any conversation that I could have. I only nodded my head before putting a forced smile on my face. When did I lose my ability to be (Y/N) and became only Tiny Kalim?

That thought plagued me for the rest of the night. I couldn't even close my eyes. My thoughts were much too frantic for it.

The next day, you decided to do something that you haven't once thought of in your life.

You left the room while Kalim was asleep. You normally woke up early and waited for Kalim to wake up. But you really needed some alone time. Time to be (Y/N). Not Tiny Kalim.

You ran out of Scarabia to the main campus. You only really knew where the main building was so this was a good chance to learn more about it.

You first went to the gate and started to patrol the perimeter. The stars were your company for this nightly stroll! They were ten times better company than your brother or Jamil.

"I wish I paid more attention to Arqa's ramblings. He would know all of these stars by heart. And the constellations that are out at this time of year."

I spoke out loud to the stars. Nobody else was up at this time, which was mildly disappointing. At least back at Silk City, the night Bizarre would have many different faces. Some scary, some friendly, and some just faces.

I started to hum and dance with the cool air enveloping my body. I haven't felt this unburdened in forever.

"TINY KALIM!"

I felt a body collide with my own, sending both of us to the ground.

"Kalim!"

Kalim was snuggling into my front, his grip getting really tight. It was quite obvious that he had been crying again.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"What do you mean?"

"WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?! I-I-I had to go to use the b-b-bathroom! AND WHEN I WOKE UP, YOU WERE GONE!! I-I-I-I THOUGHT SOMEONE KIDNAPPED YOU! I THOUGHT THAT I LOST YOU FOREVER, TINY KALIM!"

I listened to Kalim's crying before I saw Jamil walk up to us.

"He woke up the entire dorm to create a search party for you. That was very reckless."

I tilted my head down. My face felt so flushed from embarrassment.

"You should have left a note, (Y/N). I always thought that you weren't like Kalim but maybe... I should start calling you Tiny Kalim as well."

I felt my heart drop. Jamil was the only person who called me (Y/N). If he no longer does, would anybody remember my name?

Brother B:

You were the youngest (So far) of the Asim family. Your birth wasn't the biggest thing that has happened to the family but a few of your older siblings visited you the same day. One of those people was Kalim.

When it was his turn to hold you, Kalim felt something stir within his soul. He didn't know what exactly made you different from his other younger siblings that he has held. But he just felt such a connection with you!

There were plenty of times when you SHOULD have been with your mother that Kalim just took you instead. Whenever you needed to sleep, eat, or take a bath, Kalim would be the one to do it with you.

"Kalim! You need to stop taking (Y/N) whenever you want! I swear, if you keep this up, you'll become more of his mother than I am."

"But... (Y/N) likes to be with me! Right, (Y/N)?"

I babbled and put my fist in my mouth. I taste really nummy!

"See! He wants to be with me!"

Kalim would constantly run off with you. He took you to places that weren't really safe for your age.

Since your immune system wasn't as strong as a normal human being and you would normally get milk from your mother basically once a month, you would get sick quite often.

Kalim would feel mildly guilty since it was his fault but he would take the sickness as another thing to experience with you!

"Do you think that he's better yet, Jamil?"

Jamil took a breath before answering Kalim.

"No, Kalim. Look at him. His face is still flushed. Taking him out now would put him at risk."

I kept on crying. It was so hard for me to breathe! Plus I feel icky!

"I didn't mean to do that! You know that, right, Jamil?!"

"Yes, I know, Kalim. Come along. Let's give (Y/N) his medicine and let him sleep this sickness off."

A cup was put to my lips and a sweet syrup was in it. I drank it all up. What a sweet treat! I felt my eyes get droopy before I just passed out.

One year after you were born, Kalim was told that he was going to NRC after Jamil.

Kalim came up with a 'clever' plan.

He got special clothes to hide you in and snuck you into NRC without the Headmage or any of the other staff noticing.

"We're here! At our new home for a while!"

"Why are you shouting that, Kalim?"

"Because~~~!"

Kalim then reached into his secret pocket and pulled me out! I let out some giggles because it felt like I saw flying. Ooooo! Look! It's the grumpy guy again!

"Kalim... You're joking right? That's not actually (Y/N). Right?"

"Nope~! It's (Y/N) alright! I simply couldn't stand being away from him! I tried for one night. I had the caretakers move his crib out of my room and into his mother's but I couldn't sleep! What if he was crying?! What if he needed attention?! How was I supposed to know that he was safe if he wasn't with me at all times!"

The grumpy man just let out a sigh while Kalim spun me around in the air. He fell onto his bed with me on top of him.

"We're going to have so much fun here!"

Kalim took you to all of his classes, despite how much Jamil protested.

The staff would also raise an alarm but noticed that when you weren't there, Kalim wouldn't be able to focus and pay attention.

So they put up with you in their classes. Sometimes they would bring little toys for you to play with as well.

Eventually, letters started to come in. Letters from your mother.

"Hmmmmm."

I watched Kalim as he sat at his desk, looking at a piece of paper. I crawled over to him and started tugging on his pant leg.

"Huh? Oh!"

Kalim picked me up before setting me down on his lap. I looked at the paper too but it had weird scribbles on it.

"Your mother is quite upset with me, (Y/N)."

Kalim started talking and I just put my ear against his chest.

"She says that I shouldn't have taken you away from her. That I'm in the wrong for putting you at such risk. That I'm a monster who takes what doesn't belong to me. But that's where she's wrong, correct?"

I just tilted my head. I didn't really understand what he was saying.

"You do belong to me. You belong to me just as much as you belong to her. Just differently! I'm your older brother! It's my job to make sure that you live the best life that you can live! It's her job as the mother to bring you to life! She's already done her part of the job and now, it's my turn!"

Kalim gave me a huge smile, which I returned.

"See! I knew that you would agree with me!"

Kalim brought me into a hug. I reciprocated it but I was blind to the dark glint that appeared in his eyes.

"Maybe... I should send someone to remind her that she's done with her job."

[buttdumplin]

A John Price meet-the-fam special!! This is pure, indulgent fluff.

cw: gn!reader, latine reader word count: 1.2k

When Price first meets your family, it goes over smoother than fucking water over a polished worry stone. It just is. You thought it might go like that, knowing that he’d do practically anything to make himself fit in as seamlessly as possible. But you also knew that bringing home a white guy always comes with a very specific brand of first interactions.

You prep him for the teasing that’s to come, about his accent, about his complexion, about the food he eats. John takes it all in very seriously, nodding along and asking probing questions. It’s all for your benefit, and he’s incredibly mindful of that. You don’t necessarily need to know he’s already got a plan of action, though.

By the time you arrive at the family home, you’re a little stiff, braced for the barrage of probing questions that’s to come. You can tell the family is curious, you see the tías eyeing up and down. But there’s no interrogation this time. Because John beats them to it. He’s polite and answers all the niceties as respectfully as he can. And then he immediately launches into offering up information, as cryptic as it may be. He dons that dimpled smile of his and tells them what he can.

“I’ve been at this job for a while now, but I’m retiring soon. It’s actually my personal life that I'm more invested in improving now.” 

“I’m hoping to buy a home in the very near future. Maybe like this one, a big family place. I’ve been tucking away money for it for a while now.”

“I’ve had to spend a lot of time away, but I’m really looking forward to staying home with this one.”

The tías are swooning when he makes intense eye contact with you across the table as he speaks. He’s not hiding any kind of intentions, from you or them. None of the information is particularly new to you, but hearing him say it out loud? In front of all the people important to you? It’s one thing when it’s quietly discussed in the early hours of the morning. It’s another thing entirely to hear it all said in such a permanent way.

At one point, your godmother, as entrometida as she always is, mentions she’s willing to go shopping with him if he’s ever in need of a ring, says she’s always had a good eye for your style.

“Oh, no. Se lo agradezco, pero ya no va a ser necesario,” he replies with an even bigger smile, and it’s got the women hollering. They’d take a bite out of him if they could. John carries himself with the firm confidence of knowing who he is, and they can see that. They respect it.

The tías, predictably, also do everything they can to keep you two physically apart. You’re put on comal duty, keeping you in the deep corner of the kitchen where he can’t reach you. John himself doesn’t try to reach for you, wanting to spare you the godforsaken “chiflando y aplaudiendo” even at your big age. So he keeps busy by setting the table, asking only where he can find the cups and tableware. They all ooh and aah.

“Ven? Ni se le tuvo que pedir,” they shout at the tíos, pointing at John’s busy hands.

A few questions do pop up once dinner is set. Do you eat this kind of food? Have you had this before? Do you like it? Tíos razz him into adding more and more salsa on his food, and John, knowing full well how it all ends, goes along with it. He’s managed to build up some tolerance that he’s quite proud of, but there is no way that’s saving him. He knows what he’s in for. A single bite and his face turns so red it’s almost purple, his coughing making it hard for him to get water down. The tíos laugh and he’s smiling along with them, the tías rushing to get more water and napkins and a cup of milk because “I heard this helps white people?” You swap his plate out for a new one while they’re all caught up with John, taking a few bites of food to try to match it to the dish he had before. 

A bubble of softness blooms in the room. The tías are cooing over him, consoling him after his “brave attempt.” The tíos take turns patting his back, smiling down proudly at him for having met their challenge. He smiles back at you from across the table, knowing full well what you’ve done to his food, spotting a few more veggies than he’s originally served himself. The tablecloth is long, surely they won’t spot him gently nudging your foot with his own. 

When your godfather invites him out onto the porch for a smoke, John knows it’s his time to shine. He asks you to stay inside with a wink. He brought those Cuban cigars with him for a reason, he’s sure he’ll make it through. You hold him at the door for a second longer, just enough to give him a tender kiss before sending him along. Neither of you missed the way your godfather so clearly recognizes the way John moves, his own military past helping read further into the man you’ve brought home. You know there’s a good chance of this not going perfectly. 

Ignoring the calls from your tías, you crawl to sit below the window that lets out right behind them. They both let out soft grunts as they settle into their chairs, a long hum of appreciation from your godfather clearly signaling John has opened the cigar box for him. It’s silent for a while. The only sounds come from the lighter and their soft exhalations. Then a soft rustling begins. It’s not the trees, it’s too muted for that. It’s not gravel, they aren’t going anywhere and they certainly didn’t make their getting-up grunts. No, it’s their clothes. Because they’ve come up with hand signs on the spot, across languages, so you can’t listen in. 

There’s some chuckling, surely that’s a good sign! But the low sigh coming shortly after isn’t very encouraging. You try to make sense of it somehow, but there’s no distinct rhythm to it. And suddenly you’re twelve again and trying to sneak a peek. You may not need a stool to help you, you’re tall enough to see through the window on your tiptoes. Maybe if you do it slowly, they won’t notice. So slowly it goes, your knees creaking as you inch up. Their rustling continues; good, they haven’t noticed. Yet as stealthy as you try to be, they’re both looking directly at you as you finally get eyes on them. Their smiles all too knowing. You godfather winks at you, clicking his tongue fondly. He holds a hand up before you can say anything, groaning a little as he rises. He takes a beat to look down at John. You’re all frozen for a moment. And then your godfather’s hand comes down firmly on John’s shoulder, giving him a sturdy shake. 

“Me meto antes de que la vieja huela todo este humo,” he says. It’s done. No disaster, just acceptance.

When you turn back to John, he’s already got a mad grin on his face, “See? This old white boy’s still got some moves.”

AN: I am buckled the fuck in for all this latine reader content, so yall will be seeing a whole lot more of it. Thank you again to @mikichko!!! For your support and encouragement, and your incredibly generous feedback. I'm doing this to feed us both.

Let me know if yall wanna see anything with latine reader in particular!!

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you’d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

[youngharleezy]

GQ Couples Quiz with Jack and Y/N (Part 1)

Repost from my old account 💖

This was probably my favorite of all my works if I absolutely had to pick. I just love imaging Jack with a girly who is just as much of a menace as him hehehe

Anyways, enjoy (again) 😁

“You better get all these right.” You tell Jack as you point at him.

The two of you were sitting across of each other, each of you in your own seat with a pile of cards in your hand. You were about to begin the GQ Couples Quiz which Neelam scheduled for the two of you to do a couple weeks ago.

Jack laughs at you from his seat, saying, “I know you better than you know yourself, babygirl. You’re the one who should be worried about losing.”

“Yeah? What if I lose, big guy?” You fight back, covering your mouth with your cards as you tried to hold back a laugh.

Jack glances at you with a growing smirk, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. He turns to the cameraman, asking, “Is this shit already rolling?”

The camera man gives him a nod, focusing the camera on you and Jack’s interaction. Jack nods back, pulling your hand to bring your ear to his lips to which he whispered, “I’ll fuck the shit out of you.”

You let out a belly laugh as you straightened yourself back on your seat, looking at the camera and saying, “He’s so dirty.”

The producer laughs too before quickly signaling for you to begin the game.

“Hello everybody! I’m Jack Harlow,” you begin, before you catch yourself. “Wait, I’m not Jack Harlow. I’m Y/N Y/LN.” You say in between laughs.

Jack shakes his head at you, laughing at your nervousness. “Babe, we haven’t even started and you’re already losing.”

You turn to the producer before asking her, “Can we start again?” To which she gives you a nod, also laughing.

“Hello! I’m Y/N Y/LN,” you say too eagerly, turning to Jack trying your hardest to stifle a laugh.

“And I’m Jack Harlow.” He continues, turning to you.

You stare at him for a moment longer before you remembered that the next line was yours. “Oh! My turn.” Jack just laughs at you before you eagerly yell, “And today we are doing the GQ Couples Quiz!”

“How are you such an amazing actress but suck so bad at this?” Jack asks you.

“Because I’m fucking awesome, that’s why.” You reply quickly, looking at the producer and saying, “Give me one point for that question.” You see the tally under your name appear, turning to Jack who had his jaw dropped at you actually getting a point to a question that wasn’t on the card.

“You gotta keep up babe.”

He rolls his eyes at you with the smirk on his face before he says, “Ask me the real questions, Y/N.”

“Okay, okay. Hold your horses, cowboy.” You say as you straighten the pile of cards in your hand. Everyone in the studio was laughing, Jack turning to the camera and saying, “I should get a point for just dealing with her ass.”

At his words, a point appears under Jack’s name, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. “That wasn’t even a question!” You laughed to the producer. She urges you to continue, so you pull up the first card. You read it to yourself before you read it aloud, laughing to yourself. “Okay, here we go. First question. Who introduced you to me?”

“Easy. It was Urban. He was your photographer.” Jack replies quickly.

“Facts.” You say, throwing your card behind you, it knocking down a small plant that was sitting on the end table behind you. You dropped your jaw at what you did, not meaning to do what you did.

“Jesus, Y/N! You don’t have to knock shit down just because I got a point!” Jack yells at you in a laughing manner.

“I swear that was an accident! I’ll clean it before I go and get you guys a new one!” You plead to the producers. They continue laughing too, telling you that it was okay and urging you to continue. “Okay, next question.”

“Try to be a little less rough this time, alright?” Jack laughs to you, waiting for your reaction to which you just rolled your eyes too.

“Oh I like this one. How many tattoos do I have in a foreign language and what do they mean?” You say, reading off your card.

Jack contemplates for a minute, before saying, “You have that one in Arabic along your spine that says something about if it’s meant to be it’ll be.”

“Good job, keep going.” You tell him.

“I like to hear those words,” Jack says seductively, to which you smack your pile of cards on top of his head.

“Focus on the game you horny bastard.” You laugh at him.

He ruffles his hair, laughing at your outburst. “Damn, okay. You have that one in Chinese on your rib cage that says something about being open hearted, right?” You roll your hand in front of you, urging him to continue. “Oh and you have that other Chinese symbol that means setting sail to the wind!” He answers in confidence.

“Yes! Good job, babe!” You say proudly. You turn to the producers and say, “He can have half a point for that one because he was a jerk earlier.”

You watch as the screen gives him half a point, Jack throwing his arms up and saying, “Why are you guys letting her make the rules?”

“Because I’m fucking awesome, babe. You already know this about me.” You laugh to him.

He relaxes himself back down in his seat, turning to you and saying, “Yeah, you are pretty awesome.” blowing you a kiss.

“Okay you guys can give him another point because he’s cute as fuck.” You say to the producers but facing him, quickly placing a kiss on his lips.

The screen adds another point for Jack, causing you to lift your cards up again. “We really need to get this show on the road or else this video is going to be an hour long. Everyone will hate us.” You laugh to him.

“You’re the one distracting us all!” He says to you in a defensive tone.

“You better watch your words before you lose a point, Jackman.” You say, pointing at him. He throws his hands up in surrender, causing you to laugh. You read off the next card, asking Jack, “What was the last role I played, and what’s the next role I’ll be playing?”

Jack turns to the producer and says, “I thought these were supposed to be hard questions.” They urge him to answer, so he turns to you and says with confidence, “You just got done playing Fezco’s lil girlfriend on Euphoria and you’re going to star in a Walking Dead spin-off next probably as someone else’s lil girlfriend ”

You drop your jaw at how confidently he answered the question, thinking he didn’t know about your role in The Walking Dead. “I actually can’t believe you got that right!” You say in shock, telling the producers, “Give him 2 points for that one.”

He nods, pleased with himself as he rubs his hands together. “Next question, I’m ready.”

“Don’t get cocky.” You say to warn him.

“Oh I love you guys for this one!” You say to the producers as you read off the card. “Jack, what is my all time favorite song of yours?”

Jack contemplates the answer to this question, knowing that you were a big fan of his music. You listened to all his songs, so it was hard for him to decide which one was your favorite. “I feel like it changes.” He says in hesitation.

“My favorite song of yours has been my favorite for a while now.” You say, hoping that you didn’t just give him a clue.

He taps on his chin for a moment as he thinks, turning to you and asking, “Is it Warsaw?”

“WRONG! Take all his points away!” You scream, your excitement in him getting a question wrong beaming through you. “It’s Sunday Night! You know this!” You waited for the screen to take Jack’s points away, realizing that it wasn’t changing. “Why aren’t you guys taking his points away?”

The producer laughs before telling you from behind the camera that a person doesn’t lose points for wrong answers.

“Ugh, what a damn shame.” You mumble out, turning to Jack and telling him, “You’re lucky that rule exists.”

He laughs at you again and says, “You being competitive like this is turning me on, not going to lie.”

You laugh at his words, noticing him shifting in his seat, his pile of cards resting above his lap. “We can go the bathroom right now if you want.” You reply, Neelam yelling at the two of you to focus from behind the producer. “I was just kidding!” You say, mouthing ‘later’ to Jack before giving him a wink.

You pull up your card to read, asking Jack, “Okay, this is the last one, are you ready?”

“Hit me with it,” he replies, eyeing you as you read the card.

“If you get this wrong, we’re over.” You warn him.

“Don’t be a liar, Y/N. Read the card.” He says, giving you a smirk.

“Okay. What is my zodiac sign and are we compatible?” You ask, dropping your cards to the floor.

Jack laughs at the question, telling the camera, “She might actually kill me with her juju shit if I get this wrong.” He turns to you and says confidently, “You’re a Y/Z/S. Your moon sign is Y/M/S and your rising sign is Y/R/S. With me being a Pisces, we technically aren’t the most compatible, but I think we proved that zodiac shit wrong, don’t ya think?”

You stare at him with adoration, mumbling out, “Give him 3 points for that one.” keeping your eyes on him.

“Just 3?” He asks, also keeping his eyes on you which scan your lips.

“3 and a half. I can’t believe you got that right. You really DO listen to me.”

“I love you.” He mumbles, before you plant a quick kiss on his lips and straighten yourself in your seat.

You look into the camera and say, “Ladies, get you a man who tries to prove what the world has already decided wrong. It’s a lot more fun that way.”

Jack laughs at your statement, straightening himself in his seat before turning the producer and asking, “how many points did I get?”

“8 and a half for you and 1 point for Y/N.” The producer says, eyeing you for your reaction.

You turn to look at Jack, noticing him smirking at you.

“You aren’t going to be this cute and cocky when I wipe your shit out.”

“God, I’m so bricked up right now.”

“Stop threatening me with a good time.” You say, the producer now allowing the two of you a 10 minute break before Jack starts his questions.

[koipalm]

“Y’know, I don’t really think it was a good idea to let Han Sooyoung get that job at the university.”

Yoo Jonghyuk blinks up at him, but turns back to picking apart a pomegranate. Kim Dokja reaches over to grab a handful of seeds, and Yoo Jonghyuk obligingly pushes the platter closer.

Yoo Jonghyuk says, “She’s just going in for some guest lectures. It’s not much of a job.”

“Yes,” Kim Dokja agrees, “but she could say anything about us and those kids would take it as gospel.”

Yoo Jonghyuk moves onto cutting up strawberries. “What are you so worried about? She won’t lie too much. History books exist.”

Kim Dokja steals a slice of strawberry this time. “Yes, she is a good writer. But she is not always a good storyteller.”

This time Yoo Jonghyuk looks up placidly. “She wrote both of our stories.”

“She’s giving lectures in order to give insight into the Scenarios and how they changed perspectives and ‘altered human interactions’. They also want a first hand account of the scenarios by one of the few people who recently participated in them, and how it impacted her. But Han Sooyoung tells stories in a way that makes the reader have to figure it out themselves, and they have at most an hour and a half. No one will be able to get anything out of it aside from how big she thought your chest looked with a belt across it.”

Yoo Jonghyuk processes this information, and promptly goes back to cutting fruit.

“It isn’t your problem.”

Kim Dokja sighs and leans back in his seat. His cane rests across his lap, and the sunlight feels warm from where they’re set up at a table in the large garden.

He starts again. “I’m just worried as to how it will go. She’s a good storyteller, but I don’t know if this will work out as well as we hope.”

“Calm down. If she can write a book about our journey, she can give a lecture to a few college students.”

Kim Dokja tilts his head back against the chair, shading his eyes with his hand. 

Quietly, he says, “Maybe you’re right. I should have a little faith.”

Yoo Jonghyuk hums quietly, and Kim Dokja looks up to see him looking at his phone.

“Hey, come to think of it, isn’t it lunch time? Are you not cooking anything?”

Yoo Jonghyuk taps out a text and sets his phone back on the table. “The kids are bringing food back with them.”

“Mmh.” Kim Dokja leans back in his chair with a smile. Then, “You should come sit with me. The shade is nice.”

“You aren’t a cat.” Yoo Jonghyuk continues cutting fruit in the sun, but once he finishes, he sets the fruit aside to dry and sits beside Kim Dokja on the hanging bench. Kim Dokja moves his cane to rest on the ground and slides over so Yoo Jonghyuk can sit down. Their thighs press together, and one of Yoo Jonghyuk’s arms slides around the back so he can rest his hand on the back of Kim Dokja’s neck. Kim Dokja doesn’t mind.

The party rarely use excuses to touch him now, opting for the straightforward approach of doing what they want and letting Kim Dokja get used to it. A hand on the back of the neck, an arm looped through his, a pair of legs thrown across his lap, a child asking to be picked up. Maybe once he would have thought it to be overdone and unnecessary, but it feels grounding, and warm. They don’t mind when he does the same, so he doesn’t ask them to stop.

When the kids arrive, they find the two sleeping against each other on the hanging bench, hands tangled together in the shade.

-

It’s only when Kim Dokja is getting into bed when he remembers his train of thought. He’s already got his arms full with Lee Gilyoung and Lee Jihye, snuggled up against him under the blankets, so he waits until Yoo Jonghyuk slides in next to them to talk. The kids are already passed out, so he speaks over their heads quietly.

“About Han Sooyoung, it’s not that I don’t have faith in her. I just don’t want her doing it alone. She’s already had to shoulder so much in carrying out stories, and I know she wants to, I just don’t want her to feel like she has to do these things alone.”

Yoo Jonghyuk stares at him in silence for a while, sheets pulled up to his chin and hair disheveled. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Kim Dokja wrinkles his nose in indignation. “Hey, I’ve been making progress. I’m not that kind of guy anymore.”

Clearly ignoring that, Yoo Jonghyuk yawns widely and asks, “Then do you just want to go with her?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t believe how many times I have to say this, but I’m a reader, not a writer. I don’t tell stories.”

Yoo Jonghyuk shoves his face into the pillow, clearly tired of their conversation. “Then what do you want.”

“I just want someone, anyone of the party to go with her; support her while she’s there. They can give some anecdotes to make it look like they’re also sharing their viewpoint.” Kim Dokja absentmindedly blows one of Lee Gilyoung’s stray hairs out of the way.

Yoo Jonghyuk sighs. “We’ll figure it out together later. Goodnight, Kim Dokja.”

“Aish, goodnight, Jonghyuk-ah.”

[plantinghobbies]

Growing Pains

One: On the Day That I Met You

Long time reader, first time poster. This is my first time writing, well almost anything, especially a chaptered fic. The biggest thanks to @solipsisticno1 for being the best beta this newbie could ask for. Would love to hear what you think, thanks for reading!

He clocks her when he first walks in, partially because she’s sat reading a book - in a bar, who does that - but mainly because of what she’s eating – a caprese salad. The menu here has basically been sustaining him since he flew in, which is how he is certain that what she’s eating is not on it. Up until now, the proximity to the studio has largely made up for the lackluster food options. But the sight of fresh produce in this mecca of fried food has him gravitating toward the open stool next to her like a water-starved man to a desert mirage.

While Matty had initially given Jack shit for relocating to a place he’d never heard of – one that seemed diametrically opposed to the big cities that had soundtracked and marked their friendship up until now - he was starting to see Asheville’s appeal. It definitely didn’t have the physical anonymity that London or New York had, that feeling that you could live there your whole life and never even come close to seeing all it had to offer. On the other hand, Matty is pretty sure that he’s covered every inch of this town, walking to clear his head in between writing sessions and dicking around in the studio. He can navigate from his rental to the studio downtown already without Google Maps. Where this kind of familiarity used to bore him, he now finds comfort in it instead. It might be the only thing around him these days that feels impervious to change.

He settles on the bar stool and glances around, still not quite used to the visual onslaught that greets him, even after three weeks. The walls of the otherwise brightly lit bar are absolutely littered from floor to ceiling with signs. And not the street and beer signs that he’s come to associate with American pubs. Instead, aggressively inspirational sayings and pseudo-biblical quotes scream at him from every direction in a variety of sizes and fonts. He can’t tell if it’s ironic or not. He hasn’t wanted to ask for fear of offending someone, an instinct he pats himself on the back for as a sign of significant maturity.

After the bartender leaves with his order, he glances over at her and her mystery salad, drumming his hands on the table as he takes her in. Short, dark hair frames her face and she brings her hand up to bite at her nail, a habit that he can tell from her hand she does often. She looks to be slightly younger than him and for a second, Matty wonders if she’s a fan. That may just be a tiny bit of wishful thinking on his part – he hasn’t been recognized once since he got here and if he’d never admit it but it’s starting to grate on him. He tries to tell himself it’s because he loves the connection he has with his fans, has missed it during their hiatus. But if he’s honest, it’s picking at a worry that he has in the back of his mind, that it’s the first indication of a slide into irrelevance that he’s been bracing himself for since he first heard a crowd roaring for him and his band. And each day that goes by without an impassioned interaction on the sidewalk or request for a selfie in the grocery store, the worry grows bigger.

When her gaze shifts from her book to the clock on the wall, he realizes he’s been staring and averts his eyes quickly in a way that he hopes is not obvious. He briefly considers getting his food to go, shuffling back to the studio or his house to find something to distract from his current thoughts. But he forces “for here” out when he orders his food, knowing that all that awaits him at home is Internet rabbit holes and more wanking than is probably healthy.  

He’s starting to envy the book and her foresight to bring it as the noise around him is overtaken by the noise in his head. He’s trying to get better at being alone with his own thoughts, which is fucking hard when your mind resembles the inside of a tornado, disconnected thoughts spiraling around each other like debris, forever circling the calm of the eye but never reaching it. Jesus, he’s so sick of his own thoughts at this point. He makes it a heroic - by his standards - amount of time before the thoughts in his mind force their way out of his mouth.

“Bloody hell, what is with these signs?!” He mutters.  

Tess hadn’t really been paying attention to the guy next to her, appearing intentionally focused on the thriller she was reading to ward off conversation from anyone she might know. It’d been a tough day at work and she needed time to decompress before her chit-chatty brother realized she was there. When she hears his comment though, she can’t help the snort that escapes her. Real ladylike Tess. Turning to her right, she can tell from the way he sits up straighter as their gaze's meet that he relishes getting a reaction, even if it’s from a complete stranger.

“You know, my brother owns this place and he might not take kindly to that question” she says, expecting embarrassment from him but getting only a smirk back.

“Aaah well that explains your access to off-menu items” he says, nodding to her salad. “I’ve been coming here for weeks and wasn’t sure if they even had a vegetable in the place.”  

“Exclusive for VIPs only.”

“Good to know, had a hunch you were special” he says with a wink, enjoying the slight tinge of pink it brings to her cheeks. “Anyway, I’ve been dying to ask someone about these” he gestures up at the wall “for ages but didn’t want to put my foot in it. Which I obviously just did anyway.” Brown eyes stare back at her, wide-eyed with curiosity and childlike impatience that would be unattractive on another man his age - she’s guessing mid-thirties, maybe forty - but on him seems almost endearing.  

When she doesn’t respond, he prods her. “Well? What’s the story? Is it a gag? I know you Americans love to live, laugh, love and all that but even you have to admit this is a bit much.”  

The words are tumbling out of her mouth before she has a chance to consider the ramifications of prolonging the conversation, which she had been actively avoiding in the first place. “Wait, nobody’s told you?”

He shakes his head slowly, warily. She’s got him, can’t help herself.   “Oook, well..” she hesitates, glancing down at her own food “you know what, another time, don’t want to ruin your dinner.”

“No, no go ahead, it hasn’t even arrived yet” large hands hovering over the empty place setting in front of him.

Looking over her shoulder and leaning into him for dramatic effect, she whispers “Well, it’s not something we like to talk about, been one too many true crime junkies coming through asking questions,” she pauses, eyes trailing over his upper body “but you don’t seem like the type. You seem trustworthy.” He looks thrilled with this absolutely unfounded vote of confidence in his character.

“So, the previous owner, Marge, she was this real battle ax. Didn’t take shit from anyone. Her husband – I forget his name - had run out years before with the next-door neighbor, leaving her alone with their daughter and this bar. When he left, people said he took the last shred of love that she had left. Except when it came to her little girl. You know that saying they use on the news when someone dies tragically, that they ‘lit up a room’? Well, that was Lauren. She was a sweetheart, her and my brother actually dated for years. Until…” the shudder is a little over the top but Tess has always fashioned herself a great story teller.  

Her silence is punctuated only by the slight skid of wood across the floor, his body unconsciously leaning forward and taking the bar stool under him with it as he almost whispers “Until what?”

“Until she was murdered…here” Glancing away, she hears him take in a stilted breath.

“Here? Here as in Asheville?” He blurts out, voice thick with shock.  

“Here as in at this bar” Her knuckles rap agains the wood with every word and he jumps back as if it’s on fire.

“Anyway, Lauren – the daughter - she loved these things” Tess gestures to the walls around them “so every year on the anniversary of her death, Marge bought a new one and put it on the wall. When she died last year and my brother bought the place, it felt wrong to take it down. Like removing a shrine or a cemetery or something, you know?”

He nods slowly, still stuck on what she had said before. “Holy shit, that’s mad!” His eyes gravitate toward the worn wood even as the rest of his body instinctually leans away from it - as if the misfortune that occurred on it was contagious.

“Did they ever catch who did it?” he’s aware of how breathy his voice sounds, that he’s just being nosy now.

“No, but the police think whoever it is was likely a regular. Maybe still is, honestly” her eyes flit around them, sizing up the bodies as if they’ll give themselves away.  

“Jesus, really?!”  

Tess’s gaze comes back to him, assessing him more closely than she had before. She couldn’t ignore his conventional good looks, with a lithe frame that hinted at toned muscles just below and a riotous mop of untamed dark curls on his head. The words cute and sexy float to the front of her mind. Six packs and success didn’t do much for Tess, though she wouldn’t hold it against a guy. But funny, nerdy, personable? Those were like kryptonite for her, a combination that made her weak in ways that were concerning to feminism. And this guy seemed to have them in spades, she thought. Add in the accent and woof… She shook her head subtly to refocus, remembering she had left him in suspense.

For his part, her story is the most interesting thing he’s heard in a while. He’s already thinking about how to mine this for lyrics, the tragic story hidden in the walls of this charming dive bar. They’re staring at each other, and he watches with confusion as a slow, mischievous smirk replaces the grim look on her face.

“No, not really ” there’s a hint of a laugh in her voice “but that would be way cooler than the actual story.” After a quick sip of her Diet Coke, she launches into the truth about the signs, which are her sister-in-law’s doing. Well, sort of. When Sadie and Ben moved into their first house, Sadie’s mother started giving them to her for near every holiday. There was no way they were going in their home, but they didn’t want to offend Becky either. At first, they buried them in the bathroom and the garage but quickly ran out of wall space. Fed up, Sadie threw them in a box and shipped them off to the bar. It’s become a running joke among the regulars to see who can add the “best” one to the collection.

“So that whole story about Marge and Lauren and the murder, that’s all made up?” The pink in her cheeks accentuates her already enticing features as she nods. “Wow, that’s like, proper fucked up - and that’s saying something coming from me” His harsh words are softened by the hint of playfulness in his voice. She clearly enjoyed taking the piss out of him, he kinda digs it. “Is that what you all do for fun in small towns? Just lie around and think up grim tall tales to sell to handsome strangers?”  

“Small town?! Come on new guy! Asheville is a city thank you very much” Tess is indignant - she’s not this town’s biggest fan but she’s from here, she’s earned the right to make fun of it. Asheville is like her fourth sibling – she mocks it mercilessly, but if someone else talks shit about it, the gloves are off.

“Please. London, where I live, is a city. Manchester, where I’m from, has 500,000 people in it. That’s a city. This….” He shrugs and trails off, gesturing around him as if it was obvious.  

Exasperation is evident on her face. It’s adorable, he thinks, surprising himself with the thought.  

“You clearly just haven’t availed yourself of all this city” she emphasizes the word “has to offer.”

“Is that an invitation to show me around?” The comment is punctuated by a flit of his eyes across her frame that she should find skeezy but is somehow hot. Tess’s friends often remind her that her flirtation index is not the best on a good day – girl, you wouldn’t register a guy was flirting with you if he tattooed it on his naked chest, Fern often said - and especially not when it’s been this long. Well, fuck you Fern, even I picked up on this.

But just because she knows it’s happening doesn’t mean she knows how to respond to it. His comment jolts through her, sparking excitement and then almost immediate anxiety as she struggles with what to do next. Playing it cool isn’t Tess’s list of strengths – understatement of the century, she thinks - and she’s painfully aware of the time passing by where she’s failed to cobble together even a simple response. Matty senses the shift in her mood, goes to change the subject but gets interrupted by his food being delivered.

In the end, faced with flirt or flee, Tess choose’s flee. She takes advantage of the momentary distraction his dinner provides to extricate herself, gathering her book and sliding off the stool. The abruptness of her departure doesn’t sit right with him, it’s not a reaction he’s used to these days – and yes, he’s aware of how much of an absolute wanker that makes him sound like. He doesn’t think it’s something he said but he can’t seem to be too careful these days. With a polish he typically reserves for his professional persona, he tests the waters with a final comment.

“Nice talking to you,” he says to her back as she puts on her jacket.

“Yea, you too, have a good night,” she throws over her shoulder without even a glance back. Ok, based on that he’s at least 75% sure she’s not rushing off to shit talk him on Instagram for daring to wink at her without her consent. He thought she’d been into their conversation? He misses the days when his knee jerk response to interactions wasn’t to play out how it could be perceived online. Plus, she wouldn’t have wished him a good night if she was pissed off, right?

This last thought gives him some comfort, but he’s still left with a feeling he can’t put his finger on. It follows him home and fucks with his sleep. George would tell him he was obsessing, take the piss with the rest of the guys – but they weren’t here. And that was the problem, wasn’t it. It’s then - as he’s staring at the shadows the moon casts on the ceiling of his expansive bedroom – that he’s able to put a label to the dull itch that’s plagued him since he watched her leave. Loneliness. He hadn’t been alone this long for at least twenty years, since the start of the band. And Jack helped, but their time together was spent mining his feelings – pain, happiness, uncertainty, self-loathing – for lyrics, which was his passion but also really fucking draining. His conversation with her – god, he was such a simp, he didn’t even know her name – had felt fun, carefree, familiar. Easy. He hadn’t had that since he arrived here, probably since he hugged the boys goodbye backstage after the final show. And, unsurprisingly – addict, after all – he craved the feeling again.

[thehighpriestess1]

The Gojo fic mentioned here that I wrote the first chapter for but never finished 🥲🥲

I don't know what triggers warnings to add so proceed with caution regardless.

Gojo rubbed his forehead as his blind date complained about the food for the fourth time. He regretted agreeing to get into this and was mentally killing his best friend for the 10th time since the date started. He looked up and saw her giving him the doe eyes. The ones that say Why did you bring me to this crappy diner when we could have gone to a Michelin star hotel. Gojo chuckled lightly.

This was his trick to get out of bad dates. He would pick up the girl from her door and based on what he thinks of her in the first five minutes of the car ride he would either take her to his favorite restaurant or the first off beat diner he saw. Rose, his date started talking about how excited she was to dine with him and how all her friends were going to oh so jealous of her. Gojo looked at her poke her food with the fork and almost felt bad for her....almost.

"Excuse me". He raised his hand to call for the waitress who served them. The girl came and stood next to their table with a sigh. He noticed her sprained left hand and made a mental note to tip her well for putting up with this in that condition.

"Is there a problem?".

"This food is disgusting!". Rose spat sliding her fork on the plate.

"You ordered it". Her deadbeat attitude intrigued Gojo. He noticed that she was pretty and tough looking. Loose strands of her bun fell on her face and her eyes..her eyes were filled with sadness. "I'm sorry but can we get it replaced ?". Gojo said politely snapping out of his inspection.

"Sure but you'll have to pay for this one and the next one might taste the same".

"just do as you're told! Do you not know how to treat customer? And why should we pay when the food is shit!". Rose quipped crossing her hand over her chest.

"because you ordered it and it seems like you ate some of it". Rose scoffed and bit the inside of her cheeks. "I'd like to speak to your manager! Once he knows who we are he will teach you some manners". Before Gojo could step in to diffuse the situation the waitress smiled and rested her right palm flat on the table as she bent towards Rose who was now leaning away from the girl. "I am the manager. We are short staffed. Now..is.there.anything.else.i.can.get.you?".

Rose gulped and looked at Gojo who was amused by this situation looked up at her and smirked at her gloating face. "We'll get the check". He said smiling at the waitress.

"Check it is then".

-X-

You walked back to the desk huffing at this couple. "What happened?". Your friend Jaz was in-charge of billing today. "Just some rich bitch got mad at me and said she wanted to speak to the manager". You said sliding their bill to her.

"Shit. What did you say?". You gave her a toothy smile. "I told her I am the manager".

"Y/n! I told you to stop doing that! You can get fired!". You sighed as you leaned against nthe counter.

"Big fucking deal. This isn't the only place in town looking for cheap labour".

"She's got nice tits though". Jaz said looking at the annoyed Rose.You followed her gaze to Rose and smirked. "Yeah. You think they're real?".

"Seems so. What about the guy? He hot?". You looked at the back of the white haired man. "He rich". You said as your grabbed the bill and placed it between the torn leather folder.

-X-

"Here you go. I hope you had a pleasant time. Please leave a review for the restaurant as it would help us grow". You chanted the rehearsed greeting and bowed. Gojo chuckled as he placed some cash in the folder and slid it towards you. "What's your name?". He asked, pulling back the case just as you were about to reach for it. "I hope you had a pleasant time". You said again. You were used to random men asking for name and number and were in no mood to interact with the couple anymore than you already had.

"That's a weird name".

"Thank you for choosing to dine with us". You said taking back the bill and cash as the couple began to leave. "Excuse me, here's your change". You couldn't believe that someone would leave 500$ for a 80$ bill. "That's your tip".

"That's a lot of tip". You quipped still holding the spare in your hand. "I liked your service". He said winking at you. Rose huffed and walked out stomping her YSL heels. Gojo smiled and swung his jacked over his shoulder as he left you standing.

-X-

Gojo Satoru was an unforgiving man. His word was the law and no one in the city dared challenge his orders. He was cruel in the cruelest sense and had no regard for feelings But Gojo Satoru couldn't get you out of his head for the entire week and on a Wednesday afternoon he decided he needed to at least get your name.

He walked into the diner and looked around for you but you were nowhere to be seen. "Right! She's the manager!". He went to the counter and saw a man in glasses standing there. "Hi".

"Hello Sir, welcome to goldleaf diner. How may I serve you today".

"I want to speak with the Manager".

"I am the manager. My name is hiroki muka-"

"No. Not you. The other manager".

"I am the only Manager here". Gojo ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "The ... The woman. She was the manager a week ago? She had a sprained arm?".

The man raised both his arms in the air and turned halfway around to giggling waitress behind him. "Not again!".

"Excuse me?". Gojo asked tilting his head to the side. "My apology. She is not a Manager. She is a menace. Which is why she was fired three days ago". Gojo let out a groan. "Can I get her name or number?".

"I'm sorry sir I can't do that". Gojo gave him a pressed smile and gently placed a wad of cash on the counter. "Her name".

"Miyoko. But unfortunately I don't have her contact number".The man said slowly sliding the cash in his pocket. Gojo sighed and shook his head. "Is there anyway I can reach her?".

"Girls like her don't stay in one place for long". The man said. Something about his tone made Gojo angry but he calmed himself and returned a pressed smile.

"Miyoko...". He whispered the name as he gave orders to his men to find every girl named miyoko in that area. It was just a name but somehow he felt closer to you. He didn't understand why did he want to know your name. He didn't understand why did he want to find you. He felt like a teenager trying to stalk his crush.

-X-

It took about two days for his men to find out every information about every Miyoko in that area. Gojo sat at the edge of his desk frantically flipping through the pages containing photo and data looking for the familiar face. He tossed the first file on the floor as desperation rose inside him. He tossed the second file to the floor as well as his men gulped at the sudden shift of the atmosphere. He closed the last file and swung it across the room in anger. "She's not here! Are you sure you got each one of them?".

"Yes sir". Gojo groaned in frustration. Geto walked in the room and saw the stiffened men and tossed files. "Didn't find her?". He amused at the the desperate state of his friend.

"Shut up. I don't know what to do!".

"Give up? She's just a waitress you'll find another one". He sat opposite to Gojo and lit his cigarette. "You don't understand. I have to find her". Geto hummed as he let out a puff of smoke. "Did it occur to you that she probably gave a fake name?". Gojo looked up at this smirking friend. "Fuck. I didn't think of that".

Geto laughed as he reached out his hand and ashed the cigarette in the ashtray. "Now to the serious stuff. The deal with Gyizo gang is tonight and you are going instead of me".

"Why do I have to go?".

"Cause you owe me one and I have a date".

-X-

Gojo sat in the backseat as he watched the city lights flicker. He checked his watch 1:00AM. They were well into the heart of the city now after getting the work done. The whole deal had out him in a bad mood. First he couldn't find a fucking girl next his best friend trapped him into attending a shitty deal.He needed a break. "Stop at the convince store". He ordered his driver who obliged.

Gojo walked through the door without looking at the cashier and went to the racks of ramen before finally picking out his favourite one. He walked over to the counter with his eyes fixed on his wallet. "That would be 2.50 would you like a carry bag?". Gojo's hand froze on his wallet. He looked up slowly to see you standing behind the counter. "Hi". He smiled widely like a child who found the last piece of the puzzle.

"Hi. Would you like a carry bag?". He looked at you arm and felt relieved when he saw it was fine now. Next his eyes travelled to your name tag. "So your name is Kiki?". You squinted your eyes at him, "Would you like a carry bag?".

"No. What's your name?".

"That would be 2.50$". Gojo chuckled and looked around. "Look I'm not a weirdo okay? You have no idea how long I have been looking for you". You tool a step away from the counter. Gojo read the fear on your face and raised his hand by his side signalling that he wasn't going to harm you. "You don't remember me? We met at the diner? You had a sprained arm ..?". Then it clicked. He was the guy who gave you the biggest tip of your life. Your shoulders dropped in relief.

"Look man of you're here for your money then I don't have it".

"I don't want my money".

"Then what do you want?".

"I...". Gojo fumbled with his words as his brain tried to think of what did want? "Your name". You looked outside to three Balck range rovers parked in a semi circle. You didn't know what he was upto but you knew you didn't want to be a part of it. "That would be 2.50$".

Gojo sighed and looked at the ramen and cold coffee he picked up. He went back and got another set and placed it on the counter. "That would be 5$". You said scanning the items. Gojo handed you his black card and you inspected it in your hand. "Is this real?". You raised an eyebrow at him. You have had your fair share of people trying to buy with fake or stolen cards, sometimes even with fake money. "I wouldn't use a fake card for 5$ meal". Gojo said chocking his head to a side. "People don't use a black card for a 5$ meal".

Gojo chuckled, "It's the only thing I have on me right now".You shrugged your shoulders and billed him for the items.

"Have dinner with me". Gojo said as you handed him the card.

"I am working". You said trying your best to look busy in the empty store. "There is no other customer and I don't like eating alone". As if in cue his stomach grumbled and heat rose to his cheeks. Your looked at him and let out a giggle. "You seem to be really hungry".

"I am, so please eat with me. I will compensate you for your time". He said holding the items in his hand. You shook your head and smiled. Gojo saw you smiled like that for the first time and his heart skipped a beat. "Alright then but if I get in trouble then it's on you!". Gojo nodded and followed you to the seating area next to a glass wall. Gojo goy the ramen ready as you poured the coffee from the bottle into two glasses with ice.

Gojo rolled the sleeves of his Balck shirt and placed his jacket on the stool next to him. You both sat next to eachother looking at the street outside. "So what's your name?". He asked taking slurping his noodles. "Kiki". You said, avoiding eye contact.

"Is that your real name?".

"For today it is".

"What will it be tomorrow?".

"Beyonce". Gojo choked on his noodles and you smiled amusingly to yourself. "Who are you?". He asked leaning on his one arm and looking at you. You shrugged your shoulders and continued to eat.

"If I come here tomorrow would you still be here?". You stopped your chopsticks mid air."Maybe". Gojo frowned as he straightened up. You shrugged again. He bit the inside of his cheeks as he tried to come with something.

"Why were you looking for me?". It was your turn to ask questions now. Gojo's eyes widened. "I..I wanted to apologise for the way my friend behaved". He looked away cringing at his bleak excuse.

"After a whole week?".

"Yes. I found out that you were not the manager". You let out a chuckle but Gojo saw something that made his stomach churn. He saw a black-blue bruise along your neck which seemed to be spread on your shoulder too. He wanted to ask but he knew you would either won't answer him or give a false story. He saw your arms where your sleeves were rolled up and saw hints of dark red marks.

"You alright?". You were done with your food and Gojo was barely halfway through. "Yeah. Lost my appetite". He said sternly as he picked up both the boxes and went to discard them. You saw his retreating figure and wondered what could have caused the sudden shift. Wiping your mouth and hands you returned behind the counter. Gojo came upto you once again but this time he looked like he knew what he wanted. "When does your shift get over?".

"what do you want from me?". Your asked as you lifted a crate of soda to restock the fridge. Gojo took it from your hand and followed you to the fridge. "I just want to get to know you".

"Why?". You quipped arranging the cans in a line.

"I want to be your friend".

"Why?".

"I think you're... intresting". He said cluelessly. You chuckled and asked. "Who are you?".

"I am Gojo Satoru". You looked up at him and for a second you were lost in his cerulean eyes. You had never seen eyes like these. "You have beautiful eyes Gojo Satoru".

Gojo had been complimented on his eyes since he was a kid then why was he shying away now? Why did it hurt him seeing the pain in your eyes. He had never noticed someone's eyes before but yours, yours took his breath away.

"Hello?". You were snapped out of your daze when you saw your coworker enter. You sighed and took off your vest. "I'm off work now. You can leave". You walked back to the changing broom and removed your blue vest.

You pressed your hand over your chest to calm the insistent beating of your heart. You looked up in the mirror on the locker and chuckled. You looked like shit. Before your could leave your phone buzzed in your pocket.

I'm coming to pick you up. The text had your stomach churning and you understood that it was going to be along night.

Shutting the locker and entering your card in the machine to clock out you walked out the store in your free hoodie with your good pulled up. You thought he had left but you saw him leaning against his car smiling at you. He looked handsome. His tall and broad frame made him looked like a model. The Balck shirt only brought out the white of his hair and his eyes glowed in the florescent light of the store.

"Have a good night". You said hastily and turned away to walk in the other direction but he grabbed your wrist just in time making fall back and collide with his chest. You turned around to look up at him and felt the intensity of his gaze.

"Can I see you again? Tomorrow?".

"I gues I'll be here".

"Promise me you'll be here. Please". Gojo pleaded with his grip on your wrist tightening.

You bit your lip and looked around hoping that no one was watching you but to your dismay you saw your partner standing in an alley way looking at you. "Sure I promise. Tomorrow. I gotta go. Bye". You said and hurriedly walked towards your partner with your head hung low. Gojo watched you leave with a frown. Something seemed off. But he will get to the end of it tomorrow.

Just like he promised Gojo showed up to the same convience store in evening but just like last time you weren't there. He asked the cashier and he told him that you quit your job that morning. Gojo asked for your number but he didn't have it and just like last time you had given a fake name and just like last time Gojo felt hope leave his body. But this time Gojo was adamant on seeing you again.

[essycogany]

Sweet Prime!Sonic Moments

My favorite scene in Sonic Prime should be a great start.

Episode: 5 “Barking Up The Wrong Tree.”

First thing I want to establish!

Episode 4 “Unwelcome To The Jungle,” and 5 made me laugh the most. Random I know, but I believe they have some of the best jokes and character interactions.

From Gnarly Knuckles acting like Sticks from Sonic Boom. To Hangry Big having one of the most normal line deliveries done for him.

“A shard? We don’t know...”

Then the episodes gave Sonic moments of annoyance and frustration with the scavengers and Thorn’s shenanigans. We could use more of Sonic being done with everything. It’s so entertaining.

(It also reminds me of Boom!Sonic so that’s an extra point.)

I wouldn’t say this show is perfect. Far from it actually. But I do appreciate what new sides to Sonic the show brings to the table.

Without further ado, let’s get into the overanalyzed ramble pile.

Quick recap

After Sonic’s argument with Thorn about finding a better way to express herself to her use to be friends and to figure out how to take better care of the jungle, Sonic responds with this:

Then he runs off to get Thorn to follow him. Which means Sonic already had an idea to get Thorn to come to her senses.

Side note. Even if Prime!Sonic isn’t the brightest, I wouldn’t say he’s dumb.

(Mostly)

In combat he’s able to trick/fool people or enemies plenty of times. Even in this scene Sonic tricks Thorn into lunching her hammer to allow sunlight into the unhealthy jungle.

Then we end up here. The scene that made me love this version of the character more then I already did:

Yes, the ear twitch at the end was added on purpose.

I find it hilarious this dude could have went on with his plan without really saying anything to the tree. Obviously this scene would’ve been boring without any dialogue, but to me it gives the impression Sonic has a soft spot for nature.

Environmentalism has always been the key point for the majority of this franchise. I also like in most media Sonic’s been a flower loving guy. It seems to be a consistent thing that Sonic has an appreciation for plants. Talking about how pretty they are. Having knowledge about them and so on.

Back to the scene. Sonic talks to The Great Green. Not a surprise since he talks to Flickies in this show too.

I don’t know why, but I just love the fact Sonic took time to reassure the tree he’s got things under-control. Even giving it a little pat to show affection.

Sonic even hugs a palm tree later on in the show which I find hilarious and cute.

In terms of characterization, I believe this scene is a brilliant way of showing how this character is in general. Sonic having sympathy for the tree while it’s branches goes down. Sonic’s worry for Thorn and how much she’s lost it by being overprotective and practically destroying the main thing she tried to protect. Proving how much he does his best to find some kind of connection to what is basically a stranger. Despite how similar Thorn and Amy are. Then the blue blur tells The Great Green he has a plan in mind.

Sonic: “I know just trust me.”

You’re NOT the Lorax, Sonic. Jokes aside, I like how Sonic clarifies to the tree he’s going to be careful.

Sonic later on:

This shows a bit of growth compared to the first episode. At least Sonic’s not being reckless this time and knows what he’s doing.

The music in this scene is nice too. I don’t think enough people talk about how great the music is in this show. I’ll say it’s another highlight for me.

I also love the angle of the weak tree looking down at Sonic’s cherry optimistic self. The leaves falling here and latter on in this episode are VERY nice touches.

Don’t get me started on the voice acting here. Deven Mack is my favorite Sonic VA. Not because he sounds better then the others, but he takes what makes ALL of them great and combines them into one. Deven has so much range it’s not even funny. Also if someone told me Sonic was voiced by an actual teen here, I would’ve believed them. Hot take! Prime!Sonic sounds younger then Movie!Sonic if I’m being honest.

Also, even though I’m not an animator, I believe the character models in Prime has some of the BEST facial expressions for the Modern Sonic cast has EVER had in 3D. I think they have the widest range of emotions. I’m fine with anyone who disagrees though.

In conclusion. This scene solidifies something about Prime!Sonic I believe most who love him would agree with. He’s by far the sweetest version of Sonic The Hedgehog. At least from what I’ve seen so far. Not to say other versions don’t have their moments too. It’s only due to this and other moments I may talk about in the future that makes Prime!Sonic my favorite. Hope you enjoy my little character geek out.

Stay Creative! 💜

[lookismaddict]

Lookism Chapter 441 Memes/Thoughts I Have:

(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made. The sole purpose of this is to provide summaries/reviews for each chapter so if you don’t want to see the rest of it, then just keep scrolling. It’s your choice.)

I really said that I was going to work on this chapter review but I didn't do it until a few days after the chapter has been posted online... Woops, my bad. (My posts will be queued for now, so I didn't post this CURRENTLY. Sorry in advance if I randomly post at around 4 in the morning or something.) Most of you guys probably already saw this, but you know what? Time to bring dinner onto the table! 🍲

H U H ? 👁👁

UMMMM… HELLO??? I stg, if he's referring to Goo... 😭 But oh man, if he were to replace Goo, I wonder how Gun is going to react. And I already heard ab the rumors going around, regarding to what PTJ mentioned before. Even the thing about someone's death, and whatnot. Yes, I know man. 💀 But in all honesty, this Charles Choi arc though... I like it so far. Minus... the death and Charles Choi himself because it's a catalyst for an event that'll happen in the future. Also, yes Charles, you piece of shit. Jichang won't ever think of joining you lol. Even if he agreed, what is there to benefit if he were to side with you? 😀

I don't think anyone has commented on what Charles Choi said about Jichang being a strategist, and he's right about that. Unlike many fighters, I noticed how Jichang is very meticulous when it comes to fighting. He assesses his opponents, like where to properly attack and he notes their weak points and people's most vulnerable spots to aim at, which makes his Battle I.Q. much bigger in comparison to the other First Generation Kings, who just fight with a passionate drive with fists during their fights. (Reminds me of current Daniel.) He's very clever too, and that's one of the reasons why I like Jichang's character.

O K A Y. OLD MAN. SHOWING OFF YOUR NONEXISTENT LEFT ARM, I SEE.

GODDDDD JICHANG, GET UPPPPP MAAAAAANNNNNNNNN. AAAAAAGGHHHH 😫😫😫😫

BRUHHHHHHHHHHH COME ONNNNNNNNNNN!!! I STG, IF PTJ DOESN'T LET THIS MAN WIN- <- My OG reaction 😀

YOU TELL HIMMMMMM JICHANG!!! 😩😩👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

YES JICHANG PULLED OUT THE SHTICK AND LET IT ROLLLLLLL!!! Oh fuck. Wait, WHAT??? W H A T ????????

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?! HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN BRUHHHHHHHH??? I THOUGHT YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG, JICHANG!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'M GONNA GO AND FLIP A BUNCH OF TABLES BC WTFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!

Ok, for starters... Don't they have those DNA test thingies where they investigate thoroughly in crime scenes? Bruh, Charles Choi was HOLDING the gun. CAN'T THEY NOT IDENTIFY HIS OWN FINGERPRINTS??? Also, it's understandable that he might have tipped the police too since he got power. UGGGGHHHHHH PTJ, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS LET THE VILLAINS GET AWAY WITH THEIR CRIMES??? LIKE VIVI GETTING THAT HAPPY ENDING WITH XIAOLONG EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN'T DESERVE IT. I SWEAR, JICHANG'S BROTHERS ARE GOING TO SIDE WITH DANIEL AND GET REVENGE ON CHARLES CHOI. *s i g h s* Well, anyways... It's time to send them off...

WHY IS THIS MAKING ME SOB BRUHHHHH. 😭😭😭😭😭 UGGHHHHH, WHEN THEY BOTH DIED I REALLY CRIED FOR THEM BECAUSE I ALREADY GOT AN EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT TO THE TWO OF THEM. 💔

Nah, because this mf will surely get hit with MASSIVE karma. I'm just waiting for that sweeeeeeeet sweet day. (Sorry Crystal, but your dad's a dick. 🤷🏽‍♀️)

PLEASE DANIEL, AVENGE THEM!!! UGGHHHH IM STILL DEVASTATED OVER THEM. 😭😭😭

I do admit, Jinyoung DOES look good leaning on a motorcycle while smoking on a cig. Also, IDK WHY, but Daniel looks so cute carrying all of those boxes behind him. Honestly, this interaction between Jichang and Daniel looks like Jichang is sending Daniel off to night school or something LMFAO. The boxes looks like a big ass backpack, ngl. ALSO, YES JICHANG, DON'T WORRY ABOUT DANIEL. LEAVE IT ALL TO HIM TO FIND JINYOUNG PARK AND TO BEAT CHARLES CHOI TO A PULP! 😎👍🏽

WAIT... HOLD ON NOW. SO YOU'RE TELLING ME, THE "GRIMM PLASTIC SURGERY CENTER" IS IN GANGNAM-GU ??? Hold up... Tell me, this isn't where Mangi from Viral Hit went for his plastic surgery on his nose...

Tbh I'm not caught up to the recent chapter of Viral Hit, but this was in Viral Hit's Ep. 74 on Webtoon. So... could it be, that he... went there to get plastic surgery...? 😀 (I must be trippin. If I'm incorrect, then I apologize. That part caught my eye while I was reading and I had to tie it back to the First Affiliate because... I FOUND THAT COINCIDENTAL. LEAVE ME ALONE-)

Yup, sounds about right. 💀

Omg? THE HOT DOCTOR IS BACK!!! I KNEW IT, HE'S TOO GOOD-LOOKING TO BE FORGOTTEN AS A MINOR CHARACTER!!! 😳😳😳

To be honest, he looks like he could pass as Eugene and Yoosung's older brother or something. BUT, HELLO??? 1ST AFFILIATE PRESIDENT?????? AEEEUUUUGGGHHHH THIS HOTTIE IS THE 1ST AFFILIATE PRESIDENT??? I'M- 😩😩😩😩

You see... he is one MIGHTY FINE, DOCTOR. 🥴 I wanna see if Doc got some fighting moves or not. 👀 If he does, then he got me S O L D. 🔥

Ok, but this chapter's focus really was on Charles Choi and whatever he did. I'm so eager to see him get beat up by everybody. Oh, but hold on now... If Tom Lee found out what REALLY happened, then that would be a problem too. Hehehehe 😈

Time to wait for the next chapter! ✌🏽

[mrs-santoss]

Love at First Sight - Neymar Imagine - Chapter Eleven FINAL

Summary: 

Y/N is scared to fall in love. She fell once, and it was a nightmare. She can’t risk it again. But, this lucky boy manages to steal her heart, but unfortunately, manages to break it at the same time. What will Y/Ns decisions be?

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

I could hear everything, but I was unable to open my eyes. I remember screaming, pain, Neymar's cries, my mom's cries, I could even hear the doctors saying I won't be able to make it. I gather all my strength to open my eyes. I was in a hospital bed and It was dark. The only light was coming from two small lamps on the table in front of me. I felt a hand on top of mine, it was warm. I looked down to see Neymar laying his head next to my hand, holding it loose, indicating he was asleep. I suddenly remembered why I'm here. "MY BABY!" Neymar jumped up and looked at me. He held my arms down while I was trying to get out of bed, panicking. "Y/N, It's okay. Calm down, meu amor. Hey-" "NEY, WHERE IS MY BABY? WHY ISN'T SHE HERE?" I kept yelling and began crying. I was in tremendous pain, but my mother instincts were kicking in, making me forget about the pain. Neymar cupped my cheeks and sat down next to me on the hospital bed. "Bebê, she's okay. She's healthy. The nurses have her, they will bring here in shortly. Calm down, meu amor." Those words worked like an "off" button for me. My baby was okay, she made it. I smiled through the tears, hugging Neymar. He pulled out of the hug quickly to look at me. "Y/N how are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" "Yes, a little. What happened, Ney? How did I end up here?" "You had some complications that obligated us to come here. The labor went okay, there's doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you or our daughter, our Y/D/N." after he said that, I felt a rush of happiness. It is finally over. We hear a knock on the door and the nurse comes in holding the most important creature in the world for us. The second she placed her on me, I felt a radiation on my chest. It's like my daughter was speaking to me, saying that everything is okay and she's safe. It felt like life finally had a meaning. Even though she was born a few hours ago, I can already tell she has Ney's features. I hold her close to my face and smell her. It's crazy how yesterday she was inside of me, and now I'm holding her. There's a knock on the door, Davi comes inside and runs towards me. Neymar's family and my family come in after him. Davi gives me a quick hug and I pat the empty spot next to me, letting him know he can sit there. "Hey, honey. This is your brother, Davi. Hii, Davi!!" "She's so little. What's her name?" Davi asks and pets YD/N's blanket wrapped around her. "Her name is Y/D/N. Do you like it, amor?" "Yes, I do. I will take care of her as a big brother." said Davi, making me and Neymar awe, Ney hugs him.

I interact with all the family members, but I kindly ask them for some quiet time, since the pain was getting worse. Neymar and Davi stayed with me in the room. The doctor came over to check on me and gave me something for the pain. I fell asleep with Ney, Davi and Y/D/N close to me. _____________________________________ "Davi, honey. Can you see from there?" "Yes, Y/N. When does the game start?" "They will come out in a couple of minutes." I was with Davi and Davi's mom and my one year old daughter Y/D/N watching Ney play for Brazil. I sat on the row behind Davi and Carolina. It was a very important game, Brazil was playing for Copa América. It was also my first time bringing our daughter to a game, so I was a bit nervous. "I can't wait for her to grow up and come to watch me play" said Neymar while rocking our baby to sleep. "Me too amor, she will be your biggest fan, after me of course"

The player got on the field, the first thing Neymar did was look for us. When he spotted us, he blew kisses and smiled at us and mouthed " eu te amo". During our conversation before the game, he seemed very nervous about this game, I prayed that this doesn't distract him. Neymar managed to score after 20 minutes. We all jumped on our feet celebrating. During his celebration, Neymar went to the nearest camera and did a heart shape with his hands and kissed his new tattoo.

"Amor, I have a surprise for you, close your eyes"

"Ney, It better not be any of your stupid pranks, don't make me scream because Y/D/N is sleeping" I said to him and followed him to the couch.

"Don't worry, amor. You'll love it, cause I do."

He helped me sit on the couch with my eyes closed and I could feel him sit next to me. He kissed my lips for a second making me jump a little and told me to open my eyes. He had a new tattoo on his arm. There was a pair of eyes, my eyes. He looked at me for my reaction. It made me smile and loved. I kissed his lips and pulled away to look at him. To stare into each other's eyes like we always do. This has to be the most meaningful tattoo. "I love it, Ney. I love you"

I blew a kiss at him and yelled 'I love you' at the top of my lungs, making Y/D/N look at me weirdly but still continue to clap, mimicking everyone's actions. The game went on, until the 120th minute. The other team had managed to score after Ney, tying the score. It all came down to penalties. This has to be the most stressful thing in Neymar's life. I'm not even the one playing and I began to sweat. I know how much this means to him. The other team missed their 5th penalty, Neymar was about to shoot the 5th one. If he scores, we win. The pressure is unreal. He approaches the ball slowly, praying. He kissed the ball before putting it on the ground. And...he scored, Brazil won. I began crying and hugging everyone. Neymar ran to his teammates and celebrated with them. Before the cup ceremony, all the family members of the players went down on the field, including us. Davi took Y/D/N from my arms and ran towards Neymar, me and Carolina followed them. Neymar picked up our daughter kissing her before kissing Davi and hugging both of them tight.

I went to see Neymar play for the first time after I gave birth. I was excited to watch him play after a long pause. Neymar scored a goal a his celebration was the biggest surprise of my life. He untied a white band from his hand, making it flat and showing it to the camera. There was a text, written in black marker saying "Will you be Mrs.Santos?"

"Congratulations, amor. I'm so proud of you" I kissed him and hugged him tightly, Carolina did the same. "Thank you, bebê. I'm so glad you're all here, everyone." "Congratulations, Ney. You did a good job" said Carolina and kissed him on the cheek. Their relationship is so good and healthy, I like that a lot. They never let Davi feel uncomfortable or sad about their situation. "Thank you, honey" said Ney and we let him go back to his teammates to receive the cup after that. During our ride home, it was just me Y/D/N and Ney in the car. Davi and his mom left with his dad. Neymar held my hand during the whole ride, kissing it and we sang at the top of our lungs. I'm so glad I accepted the job. I'm so glad I moved to France. I'm so glad I went to that party. I'm so glad I gave our relationship a second chance. Now, we are the happiest we've ever been. We have our family, our home and a very long future ahead of us. I would've never thought that we would end up here in 3 years, but I wouldn't change a single it about our journey.

I looked at him and smiled. I remembered our first interaction. Even though it's been years, It always managed to make me smile, it always will.

"Hi, I'm Neymar. Nice to meet you!" he says to me, and extends his hand.

"Hello, Neymar. I'm Y/N, the new medical team assistant. Nice to meet you too!" I say back to him and I smile. He can tell my hand is shaking from the emotions, so he gives my hand a light squeeze before he releases it.

"I guess you will be seeing this guy in your office a lot then. Aahahaha!" this other guy says, making everyone laugh and approaches me.

"Hi, I'm Kylian. Nice to meet you, do you speak French?" he shakes my hand and asks.

"Hi, Kylian. Nice to meet you too. Yes, I do." I say the last part in french.

There's one last guy left to meet me from the three of them. As he's reaching to shake my hand. Neymar says to him in a low volume "she's extremely beautiful, oh,my god." in Portuguese. He responds back to him "yes, she is." and then turns his head to me and shakes my hand.

"Hi, I'm Thiago. Nice to meet you" he says to me in a broken English. I shake his hand.

"Hi, Thiago. Nice to meet you too. You can always talk to me in Portuguese." I say back to him and smile, I look at Neymar when I say "Portuguese" because a want to see his reaction of me understanding what he said a few seconds before. He looked shocked and started turning red immediately. Thiago starts laughing and explains the thing to a curious Kylian. The all laugh together aside from Neymar who's still a bit shocked.

A tear rolled down my eye. I didn't even bother to wipe it. It was a tears of joy. Neymar looked at me at smiled, reaching to wipe my tears. I took a hold of his hand again and squeezed it tighter this time. "Ney?" "Yes, amor." "I love you with all my heart, I'm so glad you're a part of my life." "I love you, too, meu amor. I will always be by your side, no matter where, how or when. Thank you for everything you've done for me so far. I promise to always put a smile on your face, even during rainy days, just like in our vows. I will always stare into your eyes, even during my last breath. I love you"

-END-

[daryascurse]

Chainsmoking His Love 10: The Tenth Friend

Zeke Jaeger x Reader // follow #CHLZeke for updates // n.s.fw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: this is more plot than smut (very little smut: arousal, kissing, fantasizing about fιngering and oraI), but does contain themes of alcohol, smoking, manipulation, and drunken influences on choices Chapter length: 4k

"You - fucking degenerate," you bite through your teeth at last, the building rage beating behind your eyes and spinning harder than the alcohol. "Why the fuck would you do all that and drag me into it?"

"Just playing with my things," Zeke says. "You see big girl, didn't you ever learn how to share your toys?"

“I’m not your toy.”

Zeke laughs, and tilts his forehead against yours. You can only see your reflection in his glasses – small, tiny by comparison, insignificant and shrieking with the fury of a rabbit before the smiling jaws of the hound. “Of course you are,” he says. “You’ve been letting me just play with you and your body for a while now, haven’t you?”

♡ read more after the jump or on ao3 ♡ // ♡ spotify playlist♡

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

You blink. The tavern is already starting to beat in a different dimension, everything moving at a slightly slower tempo than the rhythm in your head.

Reiner's standing at the side of the table, uncertainly holding out your second whiskey as he balances two other cups. It looks even larger than the first.

Porco's hand has whipped out of your waistband. The burn of his touch lingers, the slick conspicuously tingling on your skin as it still beats out of you. You shift your seat on the bench. To your not-quite displeasure, it provides friction right there between your thighs. Your body eats the sensation.

"Thank you," you hear yourself say.

Porco sighs out of his nose, nostrils flaring. "Thanks," he says as he takes the glasses and passes one to you. He sips his beer. Reiner takes a seat with anxious glances at the two of you, and sips a water.

You look behind Porco's head again. Both Zeke and the dark-haired man have disappeared into the crowd.

"Colt just showed up," Reiner says.

"Got here later than you," Porco says to you in a not unkind tone. You smile sloppily into your whiskey drink and take another cautious taste. It still burns, but it goes down easier. You shake your head slightly to yourself in an attempt to rattle your brain back into place, and try to suppress the physical sensations, try to forget whatever just happened. Porco seems extremely capable of doing it.

"He's doing a round with Pieck's group and then she wants to go dancing," Reiner adds.

"She's really bent on it tonight."

"It's not too bad out," you say. "It'll be fun. Is everyone coming?"

"That is everyone," Porco mutters.

"I don't know if she's seen Zeke," Reiner adds. "Or if she's bringing anyone she's playing with."

"You're coming, right?" Porco asks, side-eying you. It doesn't sound like a question.

Right now, you don't care if Zeke is coming, or even what he’d think about it. And you wouldn't care. "Of course," you say, and take another sip.

"I don't think I'll join you," Reiner says, and the apologetic tone sounds sincere.

" 'S fine," Porco says. His voice echoes into the glass he raises high to his mouth.

"Yeah," you say to Reiner. You can feel your eyes stretch wide, and your brain flits back to what Zeke had said earlier on the walk to the bar. "Yeah, it's fine."

Porco snorts, almost coughing up his drink. "You're drunk."

"No," you say, elongating the word. It cracks half a smile on Reiner's face, and it looks like it suits him. You smile back, broadly.

Unfortunately, Porco is correct. Your throat is getting thick and your ears are feeling heavy. You feel aware of every bone in your face. The tip of your nose is numb. When you all rise from the table a few minutes and three empty glasses later, you blink – a lot – and palm the wood.

“I,” you say, “am drunk.”

Porco laughs, and his arm wraps around your waist as Reiner leads you back around the crowd to Pieck’s table. The circle is smaller now, and everyone seems mostly clothed. Colt looks up at your approach and buries his nose in his cards. Pieck’s eyes barely flicker to the hand at your hips. She smiles sweetly. No, blandly.

“So, who’s coming out tonight?”

“I’m going home,” Reiner says.

Pieck waves her hand in the air in a literal dismissal. “Naturally, we should all be getting some sleep now, right?”

“What time is it?” you ask.

Porco shrugs, his shoulder brushing against your back. You have to tell yourself not to lean into it; but he fits there against your body, in a different way than Zeke does. He’s shorter than Zeke, yes, but the very way the muscle rests across his body is – is like a broad pillow of firm pectoral muscle, rising higher with each breath. And lying on Zeke’s chest, while comfortably, while a cushion over his heart, while beautifully familiar, is… thinner, like a less-stuffed cushion. Zeke’s arms are strong and lean. Porco’s are a softer muscle. Genuinely warm.

You. Are drunk.

“Near midnight,” Pieck says in her voice like syrup. “Really, anyone who wants to go home should.”

“I’m not sleepy,” says the woman next to her, and Pieck presses her nose to her cheek with a smile.

“Me too,” Porco says. His breath is hot on your ear, and you half-shrug at the sensation. Which also just so happens to bring your head into the crook of his neck. Oh… whoops! Oh, oh no!

You smile and shrug at your own thought, but it brings you out of Porco’s body.

Oh no…

“What are we doing?”

Oh no.

You turn around.

Zeke is there, alone. You blink and blink again. For a moment, you think the cloaked man is with him, but he’s not. If anyone was ever there?

Whatever. You turn away without making eye contact with him, but you can still feel the burn of his gaze. It’s as physical as Porco’s arm settling back around your waist, and you feel your stomach run cold.

“I think everyone but Reiner is going dancing,” Pieck says. She stands up, puts her cards on the table without a second glance to her hand. “And,” she adds to the players, “anyone is welcome to join.”

The woman next to her stands with a lopsided, wine-stained smile. “I’ll be there,” she says, and is ignored by everyone.

Porco whispers hot in your ear. “If you don’t wanna stay out too late, lemme know any time and I’ll walk you home, okay?”

You look at him, and squint. If you try through the haze of eyelash and alcohol, you can pretend that it’s Zeke being so kind, so thoughtful. You can imagine Porco walking arm in arm with you down the streets, to a side entrance of the building and slipping you back home. The vision is easier to conjure than the same with Zeke.

“You alright?” Porco asks.

You blink. “Yeah. No, I want to go.”

“Lover’s quarrel?” Zeke drawls, and you feel the back of your neck just prickle. You can feel that shadowy gaze of his again. When you look up at the group, you meet Pieck’s thoughtful gaze.

“Then anyone who’s going,” she says, “let’s head back up outside.”

You want then to turn to Zeke, but the back of his head and iron of his arm brush past you and Porco. He claps Reiner on the shoulder and almost bounds towards the entrance. You can’t tell in the low light if the back of his ears are burning red.

Pieck gives Reiner a hug as she stands. “Sleep well, yeah?”

He swallows, nods at her, and looks solemnly – almost sternly – first at Colt, and then Porco. “Don’t be bullheaded. Not too late.”

Porco audibly scoffs, his fingers flexing on your hip. “Goodnight, Reiner.”

Reiner leans forward, whispers something in his ear. You tilt your head closer, but can’t make out a mumbled word in the din of the bar. It nestles your head perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

But when Reiner steps back again, it’s with eyes on you, and you straighten up again. He hesitates and stretches his hand out. It’s the closest you’ve been to him all night. And if your mind wasn’t still focused on Zeke, if your eyes weren’t picturing his retreating form still, you might have focused more – on how Reiner’s eyes look, warm and light like tea not steeped long enough, deep like the brambles and thickets of a summer ravine. Your elbow extends automatically. When you shake his hand, it’s calloused, almost swallowing your grip. “It was good to meet you,” he says in a sober tone. “I hope we can speak again.”

You half-hear him, and barely comprehend the words that come too seriously. “Yeah – have a good night,” you say, with a proud focus on the words.

Reiner walks up the stairs with you all, with a few words to Zeke standing like an impassive garden sculpture at the door outside. He turns on the street, nods to you all again, and turns left as the group goes right. You shiver at the first brisk gust of wind at the end of the alley.

But Porco’s hand slips away as you all turn. He doesn’t bring you in closer. His attention drifts casually, and he falls in with Colt. They begin chattering away and it makes you frown, scrunch your nose, because of course Colt is doggedly refusing to look at you, and of course making no effort to circle you into their hushed tones.

“I should have told you,” comes the slow, lazy voice again.

You half turn, Porco’s hand sliding fully off your hip. Zeke’s slowed down, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. There’s an unlit cigarette between his lips. He raises his eyebrows, bushy shadows in the streetlamps.

“Y’okay?” Porco asks with a turn of his head. Your gaze lurches back to him, the upturn button of his nose a soft silhouette as his glance turns lazily back to you.

“She’s borrowing a cigarette,” Zeke says.

You watch as Porco’s eyes glaze over as he nods and keeps talking to Colt. Your feet falter and you stand alone.

Zeke takes you in stride, and you find your walk in line with his – a little slower than the group, just slightly out of earshot. He pulls his hands from his pockets, striking a match and bringing it up. “I’d assumed you didn’t want to know about past lovers. But I see I was wrong.”

“Zeke, what – ”

“Anyway, his attention span with them is short. Don’t worry, dear, he’s not moving on to another. But romance has never been at the top of his priorities, even when inebriated. Sorry for any disappointment.”

He says it all through a grit of tobacco and smoke, his eyes firmly on the pairs ahead.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” you say at last.

“Cigarette?”

You take it from him without thinking, and twirl it between your fingers. “You – you spent a week keeping me away from Porco. You have some weird speech tonight about him and trust. And now- you’re – setting us up?”

“So you want to be set up?” Zeke asks.

“I don’t. I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Just playing some more. You didn’t mind playing with Colt.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“You – ” you pause, and take a moment as the group gathers at a crosswalk. Everyone’s still murmuring and swaying in their pairs as late-night straggling automobiles roll by. You bring the cigarette to your lips almost automatically. The liquor is standing in the way of your logic. There’s a reason, there are clear reasons, good reasons why this isn’t the same as the first time he took you down those stairs. You just struggle to articulate it.

Zeke slides his fingers into a V and tilts his head to the side as he takes hold of his cigarette. Another car speeds by. Pieck’s companion makes a wailing complaint of impatience. You turn your chin up to Zeke and his long eyelashes flutter closed behind his glasses.

Your cigarettes press together and you inhale, breathing in the blue smoke and golden fire that sparks between the two of you.

The group begins to cross the street. Zeke jerks his head away and blows in your face. You cough and turn away, screwing your eyes up to the smoggy sky at the burn.

“Keep playing, hmm?”

“It’s right in here,” Pieck calls back to everyone, and pushes open a tavern door. You and Zeke spit the cigarettes to the street, barely half burned down, and stamp out the cherries.

Music swells from the belly of the low-ceilinged room, dark save for lanterns at the crowded bar and the low platform stage where a band flutters their fingers over instruments. The air is instantly sweaty, with Porco and Zeke immediately shrugging off their coats and handing them to Colt with orders to grab a table.

“I want to dance,” Pieck says, and grabs her woman. They toss their jackets into Colt’s laden arms as well, link elbows, and saunter into the crowd.

Colt grunts, scoots behind you to a table another couple is leaving, and dumps everything down.

“Get a drink with me,” Zeke says lazily, and not to you. Colt looks at the table, shrugs, and walks with him the other direction. Zeke doesn’t look back.

Porco nudges you. “Want a drink, or wanna dance?”

You hesitate. “Uh – I’m going to the washroom,” you say in lieu of a decision.

You find it easily, a single room with low lighting and mirror cracked at the corners with mold. You run the faucet a moment, staring first at the gush of water streaming down the drain, and then up to meet your own eyes in the mirror. The counter you realize you’re gripping below cold fingers is blurry in your periphery.

Porco is cute. Porco is nice. “Nicer than Zeke,” you say to your reflection, feeling the words around with your tongue as they leave your mouth. You shift your weight on your feet, imagining the weight of his arms around your hips.

The fantasy floods your mind, as if Porco is standing in the mirror behind you, his fingertips dipping below the hem of your blouse to tease at your waistband. He would rest his hands on your waist, gently rubbing up and down in that slow journey to bring them below the fabric, a deliberate dance slower than the way Zeke does it.

You roll your hips back, and your knuckles tighten on the counter even without Porco’s – or Zeke’s – anyone’s – body to move back on.

And what would Porco do next? Would his fingers explore, deeper than below the counter? Should you let him skim your layers down to your ankles, kicking aside everything on the bathroom floor? You straighten your back, as if stiffening against prodding fingers scooping into you.

And what would you do next? Would you drop to your knees even on this floor, rocking back on your heels and fighting at his pants fastenings? Your mouth pricks and salivates.

And what would Zeke do, what would he think, if he saw you kneeling with Porco’s cock in your hand and tongue lolling across his shaft?

Maybe that’s just how Zeke wants you to play the game.

Then you roll your eyes back to reality when you realize there’s been a steady knock on the door and echoes of your name for – who knows how long.

You twist the still-hissing faucet off, then on again for a moment to cup a handful. Turning the water off again, you splash it up lightly to your face, reaching up to pat the cold slap across your face. Perk up. Perk up.

You recognize the voice as you grab the doorknob.

“You doing okay?” Porco asks hesitantly when you open the door a crack, a small glass of alcohol in each hand.

“Oh- ” you say, and open the door wider. Porco steps into the washroom, and hands you one of the cups with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you say. “I just needed a second.”

“Sure. It’s late. Guess it’s turned into a long night,” Porco says. You just watch his fingers as he raises the other glass towards you, and mirror him subconsciously. His fingers are thick, the nails clipped neatly, and you tense your thighs at the thought of them strumming at your legs and opening you. “I think the walk and the cold sobered me up a bit.”

“This will help both of those issues,” you say, and the glasses clink together.

It’s so sharp going down your throat. You bite back a cough, and slam the glass down besides the wash basin in an attempt to hide the full body shudder that overtakes you. You think you hear Porco making a strangled, throat-clearing noise as well. In the mirror, you see him wipe his lips with the back of his hand.

You turn back to him, and watch your hands rise. You hesitate almost, fingers fluttering on his jaw, and then you lean your head closer – and kiss him. His head turns against you, a bit of a jerking reflex. And then his hands are curved at your hips and his lips are moving, kissing you back.

His hands reach up as yours splay down to broad, sturdy shoulders, bones harder to the touch than Zeke. Your faces break away for a moment, and you start forward again involuntarily. His fingers are cold against drink-flushed cheeks.

Just for a slight second, the pub outside seems to take a collective pause, and you hear yourself breathe. The alcohol cloys at the back of your mouth, but you feel as if you’re seeing clearly, his steel eyes staring straight back the same. You part your lips, eager.

“Hey,” Porco says, and there’s a slowness to the words, a heavy pause, a sucking inhale before he speaks. His thumbs hover, and his hands withdraw from you. He hesitates again, and exhales hard. Liquor blows in your face as he lifts his hand to pinch between his eyebrows. “Ah, man. Look. I’m extremely flattered, okay? You’re – wow. You’re very attractive.”

You squint at him, the words falling on your ears and some strange shield rising in your mind.

“And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested,” Porco says. “But I’d also be lying if I said I can’t tell Zeke is into you. And I can tell you know that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you into him?”

The alcohol dries in a heavy coating taste at the back of your throat. You swallow. It doesn’t help. You nod without thinking of it.

Porco nods back, and you can feel yourself shrink away, almost down in stature before him.

“So… what’s going on between you two?”

Someone bangs on the door.

“Hold on!” Porco shouts.

Everything lurches.

“I – I should go,” you say.

“Wait a second,” Porco says, and grabs your hand.

You whimper at the back of your throat. His hand is firm, the touch so directly on your skin exactly what you had imagined.

“I just don’t want to leave on bad terms,” Porco says, and keeps pausing and chewing over his words, as if the alcohol and the sobriety are battling on his tongue. “I kind of feel like an idiot, honestly. But when I saw you two talking on the walk over, I just got this sort of – feeling. I’m used to feeling like someone’s yanking my chain, you know?”

“Didn’t know you noticed that,” you mumble.

“Yeah, well, I did.” Porco pauses. “But I’m not blaming you. I’m just out. Last thing I’ll say is, I just don’t have the patience or the time to be caught up in some stupid game. But just – with Zeke, make sure you’re playing on your own terms, alright?”

You say nothing.

“Stay safe out there,” Porco says. He leans forward and kisses you on the cheek, something chaste, something platonic, and somehow nothing damning. You can’t keep eye contact with him, and watch his boots turn to the door as he opens it. He yelps something to the groaning person outside, and the door closes again.

You’re alone with your reflection again, in a room that suddenly feels darker, dingier, colder than it had minutes before. She blinks back at you in the mirror, looking just as drunk and lost. You run the water again, the hiss of sound a startling shock against the muffled background outside. Hesitantly, you pick up the empty glass, filling it and dumping it repeatedly until you put it to your lips again and drink the cold, sobering water.

It feels a little better. You put it down again on the counter. “Well,” you say to your reflection. She raises her eyebrows with you.

You should probably stop drinking.

The person in line bites something nasty at you as you open the door, languidly stepping out. You don’t care. You scan the dance floor, the bar, looking for that glint of glass lens catching the low light. And when you see him, hazy in the corner behind a cloud of smoke, you charge right over.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Zeke exhales. The fumes burn in your lungs, the damage of second-hand smoke flickering away at you even without making the choice on your own. “Porco’s talking with Colt over there, if you’re looking for him.”

“Shut up,” you say, the boldness of your words almost taking you aback, but not enough to slow the sentences pouring from your mouth. “You’ve been telling me shit and cryptic riddles all night and it’s not fucking funny anymore.”

Zeke raises his eyebrows at you. “But you did find it funny for a while?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know what’s been wrong with me. I’ve been drinking a lot, okay? But Porco – he pointed out that this is just some weird game to you.”

“And are you tired of playing?” Zeke asks.

You suck your teeth and look away. “I don’t like a game I don’t know the rules to. No one does. That’s how cheaters win.”

"Don't be a baby," Zeke says.

"What did you say earlier tonight?" you spit back. "Am I a baby or a big girl in your eyes? Because I can't tell."

The tension stretches. You look back at him, at those eyes measuring the next move, and glance away again.

“Fine. I’ll square with you,” Zeke says with a sigh. He shakes his cigarettes at you, and you wrinkle your nose, refusing to make eye contact or accept it. “Sure, I thought it would be interesting to screw around with Porco a little bit. And like I said, you played with Colt before when I asked. I didn’t see much difference besides that Porco is admittedly smarter. I shouldn’t be surprised he figured it out, though it is a little sooner than I’d thought.”

“Without asking me? Or telling me straight?”

“That’s what makes it the most fun,” Zeke says, and you can hear the laugh in his smile.

“Would you have let him fuck me?”

“Would you have let him fuck you?” Zeke pauses. When you can’t supply an answer, you turn your face back to him, tongue pushing around your teeth as you try to sort out the words and continue to fail. “Then that’s what I thought.”

 It’s infuriating.

"You - fucking degenerate," you bite through your teeth at last, the building rage beating behind your eyes and spinning harder than the alcohol. "Why the fuck would you do all that and drag me into it?"

"Just playing with my things," Zeke says. "You see big girl, didn't you ever learn how to share your toys?"

“I’m not your toy.”

Zeke laughs, and tilts his forehead against yours. You can only see your reflection in his glasses – small, tiny by comparison, insignificant and shrieking with the fury of a rabbit before the smiling jaws of the hound. “Of course you are,” he says. “You’ve been letting me just play with you and your cunt for a while now, haven’t you?”

“But this, this is different. This game is fucked,” you say, and the words feel stupid coming out of your mouth. You aren’t sober enough for a discussion, an argument like this.

“Then alright, alright. It’s done. Ignore him. Dance with me,” Zeke says.

You blink, and shake your head. “I can’t dance. And I’m fucking drunk.”

“Then this is the best way to dance.”

You clench your jaw. You should go home. You should have water, go to sleep, wake up and confront the swirling shame and guilt in the morning. Maybe it’s not guilt. Whatever – parse these feelings out later. You should go to bed.

But Zeke extends his hand, and you find your trusting fingers lacing with his as he drops the cigarette and leads you to the crowd.

chapter 11

[writer-rubes]

Head in the Clouds

A Wholesome Fic

A/N: Here’s part two! Seriously, go follow @fluffyhare if you haven’t yet. Their work is so cute, romantic, and precious! The relationship Avery and Casper have just melts my heart! They’re also just- a really sweet and caring person overall. So go follow them- But if you’re a minor, please don’t interact with them, they hate that. Then again, if you’re a minor, you shouldn’t be interacting with me, either. Please be respectful. Thank you.

Anyways, this chapter does have tickles in it! The first one was some needed exposition, now we’re getting into the good stuff. For this one, we’ve got Ler!Avery, Switch!Casper, and Switch!Rubes. I’m saving Avery’s session for last. This is very self indulgent, so- here goes nothing. Also- it’s way longer than I expected it to be-

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Head in the Clouds

Chapter 2/3: Uncommon Bonds

Summary: Rubes visits Avery’s place with Casper, and they have a very important conversation about her notebook, and her place in the ‘community’. Fluff and shenanigans ensue.

CW: Insecurities, Trans Body Dysphoria, Anxiety, Panic Attack, tooth rotting fluff, SFW tickles

Casper and Avery belong to @fluffyhare

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I was happy with the new friends I had.

Avery and Casper were incredibly fun to be around. Casper was such a joy to talk to, and when Avery wasn’t around, we’d talk for a long time. Avery was so kind, gentle, and considerate. I never saw him alone, Casper was always there with him. Which I thought was cute.

Casper made good on his promise to see me in the library. He came in to say hi while picking up books for Avery. And sometimes he’d ask me to come over to his apartment after work. I exchanged numbers with him and Avery. I just loved that I was their friend, even if it felt like I was a third wheel sometimes. But they assured me I wasn’t doing anything wrong. They wanted to hang out with me.

They wanted to hang out with me…

That in itself warmed my heart. Though I had family and friends online, I didn’t have many people in real life. And I didn’t have family living with me. I was alone. And being around a sweet person like Casper, and someone as whimsical and awe inspiring as Avery, it made me feel like I meant something.

Little did I know, one month after our first meeting, I’d get involved in something I thought only happened in stories.

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I didn’t have work today, so I was just sitting on the couch in my apartment. It was evening, and I had some calming music playing in my earbuds, and I was writing in my notebook meant for my serious writing. Not my wholesome stuff.

I was frustrated. I had realized when I got to work a month ago that I had lost that pink notebook. The one with all of my wholesome writing, and tickle stuff in it. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find it. I searched the beach several times, and I was too scared to ask Casper and Avery for help. I was worried someone found it and looked through it. I got a new blank one the other day, but my filled one was still out there.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my worry. I stood up, setting my blue notebook on the side table. My worries could wait. My cat, who had the personality of a dog, rushed to the door the moment she heard the knock. I pushed her back with my foot to make sure she didn’t run out the door. I opened it, and I smiled slightly seeing the friendly face of Casper.

“Hey, Casper.” I said, resorting to picking up my cat to make sure she didn’t get through the door. “What brings you here?”

“Hey, Rubes.” Casper smiled as I picked up my cat. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to Avery’s place tonight.” My eyes widened slightly.

“Casper, are you sure?” I asked quietly. “I mean… That’s a big thing, and I already feel like I intrude on yours and Avery’s relationship as is. I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Oh, he lives in an old lighthouse on an island just off the coast.” Casper replied.

“What?” Then again, that wasn’t too big a shock. He can’t exactly show himself in public that often. He was usually in Casper’s apartment. And when he was in public, he was wearing a human disguise, which I learned how to spot.

“Well, you’ve never been there.” Casper said. “And Avery said he wants to talk with you.” My heart sank as Casper said that. But I forced that dread down.

“Okay… let me just get my cat to not chase me out the door…” I picked up a catnip toy, rattling it to get her attention. I threw it, and she chased it across the living room. She nuzzled into it, and flopped on the floor.

“Aw, what a cute kitty.” Casper said. I nodded.

“She’s very sweet.” I grabbed my bag, making sure to grab my blue notebook instead of my newer pink one, and I made sure to lock my apartment door. Casper walked with me out of the complex.

Casper and I went to where Avery planned to meet up with us, when my heart stopped for a brief moment. I recognized this place. It was the same pier I was thrown off of. I still wasn’t over it despite it being over a month. I hadn’t gone to that pier since. And I was afraid that the figure who threw me in would return. Casper walked onto the pier first, but I stopped right before walking on the wooden part.

“Rubes, what’s wrong?” Casper picked up on my fear immediately. I sighed softly.

“This was… where I fell.” I whispered. “I’m worried it’ll happen again, and that…” I trailed off. Casper put a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay… I was scared too when I first fell. But I try not to associate the pier with… falling off. I associate it with when I met Avery. If I hadn’t fallen off, he wouldn’t have saved me, and we wouldn’t have fallen for each other.” He tried to assure me. “So try to associate the pier with meeting Avery. Like I did.”

I tried to think of that. How Avery saved my life. How I could keep breathing because of him. How I enjoyed a cup of tea with them on the foggy beach. All those lovely times over the past month were because of him. So I took a deep breath, and took those steps onto the wood of the pier. Casper smiled at me.

“See? It really helps, doesn’t it?” I nodded slowly.

“It does… thank you, Casper.” I whispered. He nodded.

“Anytime.”

As we walked down the pier, I kept trying to think about how the cloud saved my life. How I had so many fun experiences because of him. That really comforted me as I walked down the pier with Casper. Wow, that tactic really worked. When we reached the edge, Avery was awaiting us. He was leaning on the wall separating the pier and the ocean.

“Dewdrop, you made it.” Avery floated to Casper and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “And Rubes, so wonderful to see you.” I smiled at him.

“Hi, Avery…” I whispered. He chuckled softly.

“It will be an honor to have you visit my home. I tidied up just for our guest.” Avery stared up at the clear, starry sky. “Come on, you two. No time to waste.” I nodded.

“Okay… Casper said you lived on an island, right?” Avery nodded at my question before I continued. “So… where’s your boat?”

“Avery doesn’t have one.” Casper informed me. My eyes widened slightly.

“Right, Avery’s a cloud… But what about us?” Avery chuckled.

“I can just carry my Dewdrop over in my arms. But for you, I can carry you with my wind abilities.” My heart stopped at that idea.

“What?!” I backed up a little. “Are you insane? There’s no way that’s safe!” Avery chuckled at my reaction.

“Now, my dear. I will not let anything harm you. I assure you, it’s completely safe. It startled my Dewdrop the first time it happened, but he grew to have fun with it.” He held out his hand. “Do you trust me, Rubes?”

I thought for a moment. I had seen Avery’s powers before. They were fantastical, to say the least. He felt like he came straight out of an old storybook. And he’s been so kind so far. He’d never let me fall.

“Yes, Avery… I trust you.” I took his hand, and he led me back to the edge of the pier, where Casper was eagerly awaiting us.

“Now, let’s get going. We have much to discuss.” Avery chuckled.

Without warning, he scooped Casper up in his arms, bridal style. Despite expecting it, Casper yelped. Avery leapt up from the pier, floating in the sky with Casper safely in his arms. Casper clung to Avery’s shirt. I stared up at them, awe inspired. With a flick of his fingers, a strong gust of wind swirled around me, and lifted me up into the air with them.

“Avery!” I screamed as I was lifted up.

My eyes were practically glued shut, I was shivering from fear, muttering ‘I’m gonna die’ over and over again. But after a moment, I gained the confidence to force open one eye. Then the other. Surrounding us was a clear night, a sea of stars above us, and the deep blue ocean below.

Whoa, what a view, I thought to myself. I could even see the lights from Port Oleander from here. And what a feeling, too! I thought the feeling of flight and weightlessness only occurred in dreams, or in stories. Yet here, with Avery, they were real. I admired the beautiful sights around me, and the adrenaline from this feeling. It was a rush.

I laughed in merriment as this feeling spread endorphins all throughout my veins. Avery chuckled at hearing me laugh. And he hadn’t even started his plan yet…

————————————————————————————————————————————

We arrived at Avery’s lighthouse. Though it was abandoned, it was oddly welcoming. Maybe because I knew it was the home of such a kind cloud. He landed on the balcony of the lighthouse. He lowered me down until my feet were planted on the ground, and the whirlwind around me vanished. I grabbed the guard rail of the balcony. I was relieved to be on solid ground again, but the rush of adrenaline from that flight was unbelievable.

“Wow… that was wild.” I muttered as Avery set Casper down.

“Yes, flight tends to give quite the rush.” Avery chuckled. He opened the door to the inside of the lighthouse, letting us both in before entering himself.

My eyes practically glowed with endearment. He had turned the lighthouse into a lovely home. There were bookshelves lining nearly every wall, there was a study desk with papers over it, and a big, fluffy bed on one side. There was even a table and chairs.

“Your home is beautiful, Avery.” I told him. Avery chuckled.

“Thank you… Now, how about I make some tea while we discuss a… special matter.” Avery went to his tea cabinet to make it for us. He had a tea cabinet? Lucky!

However, I felt a bit nervous. They brought me here to talk with me. What exactly was it about? Did I do something wrong? Was I being annoying to them? I knew I was awkward and weird, but they could have at least texted me about it! They both had my number! I gripped the edges of my skirt as an anxiety response.

“I know that look, Rubes.” Casper suddenly piped up. I turned to face him.

“Casper?” He smiled at me before speaking.

“You’re anxious. And that’s okay. Honestly I might feel your freakout secondhand.” He muttered. “But trust me. If we had a problem with you, we would have told you a while ago.” I nodded slowly.

“But… I’m just being a third wheel to you.” I muttered. Casper shook his head.

“No, no… You’re not. Avery and I hang out all the time. That’s our own special time. When we hang out with you, it’s different. We want to spend time with you, not just each other. You’re our friend.” A soft smile appeared on my face.

“Thank you, Casper…” I muttered. Avery returned with a few teacups, and he placed them in front of us. I nodded to thank him, and I drank from the teacup. Vanilla chai… my favorite.

“Now, Rubes…” Avery began. “We brought you here to discuss something we discovered on the first day we met.” He walked over to a shelf, and I was confused.

That is, until he pulled out my pink notebook, the one I had lost.

The one that had all of my tickle writing.

My face turned completely pale.

He handed it to me, and I snatched it from him. I held it protectively to my chest.

“Before you ask…” Casper spoke up. “We already read it.”

I whimpered softly, my cheeks going from pale to red. So they knew. They knew of… that part of me. I thought I had kept it under lock and key, but it seemed I couldn’t get anything past them.

“I… If I had an explanation for why I have that notebook, and why I… have that content within it, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.” I told them. My heart rate went up as I spoke. The first sign of a panic attack. “I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with… this! I never knew why, even now, as an adult!” Tears built up in my eyes, and I was struggling to breathe. I was so afraid. So afraid I would lose them because of this.

“I hate that I have this part of me! I don’t know why I have it, but I do! And no matter how hard I try to get rid of it, let it go, or just forget about it, I can’t! I don’t know what is wrong with me, or why I have this weird, childish, and gross obsession!”

Eventually, I couldn’t speak anymore. Tears were flowing down my face, it was burning red from embarrassment and fear, and I was gasping for air. I was panicking. But I couldn’t stop it. I was lightheaded, and I felt frozen in place. Both of them knew what was going on. This was a panic attack. Avery rushed in front of me to console me.

“Hey, hey…” He spoke in a comforting tone. He placed both his hands on my cheeks. His hands were so soft, and cool against my hot face.

“Oh, Rubes…” He muttered, wiping my tears with his thumbs. “We’re not judging you. Not one little bit.” He spoke in the gentlest tone I had ever heard. “Neither of us are upset, or weirded out by your love of tickles.” My cheeks turned redder when he said the word. Without breaking a sweat, even.

“And believe it or not… we both have the same interest as you.” Casper admitted to me. I gasped softly, and turned to face him.

“What? You… you do?” I asked, sniffling slightly. Casper nodded.

“Y-yes.” Casper’s own cheeks turned red. “Avery discovered it just two months after we started dating. And… we use it to bond a lot. He’s… really good at it…” His voice got quiet as his cheeks burned.

“See?” Avery smiled at me. “We’re not judging you. Not one little bit. In fact, we’re delighted to have someone who sees tickling in a similar light to us! We accept you for who you are. Every part of you.” He kept his hands on my cheeks, and tilted my head up so I’d look at him.

Upon hearing what Avery and Casper said, it made my heart feel… warm. Warmer than ever. I was beyond relieved and happy. I started to calm down, and my panicked tears switched to happier ones. Suddenly, Avery held me in a firm, yet gentle hug. I was briefly stunned by the action. But… it meant more to me than he might think. I returned it, resting my head on his shirt. He was much taller than me…

“T-thank you…” I muttered through my tears. “But even if you are accepting… I didn’t want you to find out through my notebook.” I admitted. “It’s… really embarrassing that this was the way you found out…” Avery nodded.

“Yes, I suppose so. And I apologize for looking through it without your permission.” He spoke as he ran his cool, plush fingers through my short hair. “If it makes you feel any better, your work is lovely. And quite adorable.”

I sniffled, and let go of him. I wiped my tears with my sleeves, but Avery fetched some tissues for me instead. Casper rested a hand on my shoulder.

“We’re not going to see you any differently because of it.” Casper assured me. He took his hand off my shoulder and stood by Avery’s side. “Besides… you didn’t judge me when I told you about my queerness…” I nodded slowly, but glanced away.

“That’s different, Casper…” I muttered. “You struggled with it for so long. And I don’t know what it feels like to be you. With that struggle of not feeling like yourself in your own skin… I can only imagine how it feels for you.”

“And I appreciate that you respect it…” Casper told me. “Not everyone did. Some did after a while, some never respected it. You and Avery… you respected it immediately, and saw me the way I was on the inside.” He smiled brightly.

I wiped away the rest of my tears with Avery’s tissues. They were both so kind.

“Of course I respect it. I tend to look for what’s on the inside. Not surface stuff. I’ve had a lot of trans friends, and... they all struggled like you. I’ll only see you as how you feel on the inside.” I told him.

There was silence for a moment, before Avery shattered it with a question that got my cheeks flaring.

“So… about that ticklish part of you… Does this mean you wanted some of what you wrote to happen to you?” I took several deep breaths before answering.

“M-maybe?” I knew I couldn’t hide it from them anymore, even if I tried. Avery chuckled as I spoke.

“So, care to say your alignment, then?” He asked.

“I beg your pardon?” I said, confused. Casper laughed slightly.

“He means are you a lee? A ler? Somewhere in between?” I finally understood when Casper used those terms.

“Oh… I’m a switch.” I muttered. “But I lean more towards a lee.”

I realized one second too late that I might have made a mistake saying that…

“Well…” Avery chuckled softly. “Perhaps we could indulge you?” He offered. He used a gust of wind to push me backwards, onto the soft carpet.

“Whoa, wait!” I cried in shock, covering myself. “I-I haven’t gone through this in years, I don’t know if I’ll… actually still like it!” Avery’s smile only got bigger.

“Well, let’s find out if you truly do enjoy it, shall we?”

I panicked, and tried to run, but I felt Avery grab me by my hoodie. With one fell swoop, he pulled it off me, leaving only my light pink shirt underneath. That wasn’t decent protection at all.

“No!” I squeaked out. Avery turned to Casper, and they nodded to each other. Casper sat down on my knees so I couldn’t get up. Avery used one hand to pin my wrists. He didn’t pull them over my head, but I couldn’t move them to protect my torso.

“Oh, so you also beg despite not meaning it?” Avery teased. “You’re more like my Dewdrop than I thought. Besides, I read that notebook cover to cover. I know what you want, Rubes.” I whined in response.

“Casper!” I cried, trying to get some sort of help from him. Casper just smirked.

“Sorry, Rubes. Nothing I can do. Besides… Avery will probably go after me, next! So I’m enjoying this while I can!”

“That’s right, Dewdrop~” Avery teased. “But for now…” He smirked at me, with a smirk I never thought he could produce.

“C-can’t we talk about this?” I asked, hoping that he wouldn’t. But at the same time, a craving started surfacing. One I hadn’t felt in years. Avery was right, he was about to give me what I had been deprived of for so long. I had a whirlwind of excitement and dread within me.

And here I thought this stuff only happened in the stories I wrote!

“I’m afraid not, my friend.” Avery chuckled. “Now, let’s test the waters, shall we?”

I gulped, but I knew I couldn’t really do much about this. I already let out a startled squeak when I felt him trace a single, soft finger across my stomach. I bit my tongue, trying to keep my giggles in. I wasn’t sure why. Why was I being stubborn when a part of me wanted this?

“Oh, let those giggles out, dear.” Avery said in a teasing tone. “Nothing’s stopping you.” He chuckled, adding more fingers to gently run over my stomach.

I bit down harder, feeling embarrassed. My heart rate went up, and I felt like my face was going to burn off. But a quick stroke over my navel shot a ticklish shock through my body and up to my head. A squeal escaped me before I could stop it, and giggles spilled out of my throat. Now that the dam was broken, Avery took it upon himself my tease me more.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like this before…” Avery mused. “My goodness, it’s even squeakier than Casper’s! And almost as loud, too!” Casper blushed as he said that.

“I’m not that loud!” Casper retorted. Avery just chuckled.

“Oh, Dewdrop. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a noise complaint from how hard and loudly you cackle.” He teased, making Casper’s blush deepen.

“Apologies, Rubes. My attention shifted.” While he was teasing Casper, he had kept his fingers on my stomach, gently wiggling them over my stomach. That was even worse than just running his fingers over the spot.

“I-I can’t!” I squeaked out through my laughter.

His touch was even more gentle than I thought it would be. His fingers were soft and plush-like, even with my shirt. And he was gentle, too. Extremely gentle. He was a scientist, and a cloud. He definitely had the hands that worked with delicate instruments, and his cloudy body made his fingers softer and smoother than anything I had ever been tickled by. Avery let out a bigger laugh.

“Oh, come now, dear. You can’t tell me you’re not having fun. You’re barely even struggling~” Avery sang. “And your laughter just sounds so happy. Like you’ve been rectified after all these years~”

His teasing only made it much worse, and my giggles escalated. I struggled to move on the carpet, but Casper sitting on my knees prevented most movement from there. And Avery holding my wrists with one hand kept me from pulling them over my stomach, and crawling away. He chuckled and stopped for a moment, and slowly lifted up my shirt to just below my lower ribs.

“No! No!” I begged through my giggling. Even if he had paused, I still had the giggles, and they were not leaving me be. Avery smirked and shook his head.

“Oh, Rubes… You told Casper and I that you thought you were overweight.” He said in a gentle tone. “But you really aren’t. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Besides, there’s just more tummy to tickle. Is that such a bad thing?~”

I shook my head, but he tauntingly wiggled his fingers above my bare tummy. It was bad enough with my shirt covering it, but the idea of those soft, plushy fingers on my stomach with no shirt protecting me made me start giggling before he even started. Before I could beg more, I felt his soft, smooth, and cool fingers wiggle against my bare tummy, occasionally dipping into my navel.

“Eek!” I squealed out, bucking as hard as I could. My giggles turned into laughter, and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

“Oh, what cute laughter.” Avery mused. “And it’s just one hand on your tummy, and you’re already in a happy laughing fit. I didn’t realize you were this ticklish. Almost as much as my little Dewdrop. He’s so ticklish that even a breeze could get him to giggle.” Casper’s face burned as Avery said that.

“Who are you trying to fluster? Me, or her?” Casper cried through his embarrassed whines. Avery laughed seeing Casper melt.

“How about both? Two flustered red faces are better than one.” Casper and I both whined at the same time, though my laughter made it sound far different from his.

“Now, I wonder how you would react with two hands on that ticklish tummy of yours…” Avery chuckled. My eyes widened through my laughter.

Before I could say anything he lifted the hand tickling me, and snapped his fingers. Two ghost hands appeared behind them, and snatched my wrists. This time, they lifted my arms above my head. I yelped, and bucked, but neither Casper or Avery got off, and those hands didn’t let go. This was mind-blowing that this was actually happening. Outside of just… writing it myself.

“This isn’t fair!” I cried through my nervous giggles.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Avery smirked, and glanced behind him. “Casper, would you be a sweetheart, and lend me hand? Her knees aren’t gonna tickle themselves.”

“No, please!” I begged, feeling Casper’s weight shift to my calves. “Aren’t I suffering enough, Casper?” I struggled, but I still could hardly move my legs at all! Casper smirked at me, just like Avery.

“Come on, Rubes. We all know you’re hardly suffering.” Casper stated. “We read that notebook. We’ve got a lot of things that can be used against you~” He started to gently squeeze my knees, and flutter his fingers on the front and backs of them. My leggings offered little to no protection against his touch.

“Casper!” I squealed out, laughing again.

My knees weren’t as ticklish as my stomach, but Avery’s teasing had already weakened me. Speaking of Avery, he started using both his hands on my tummy. One wandered around it, even gently pinching my sides on occasion just to get a squeal out of me. The other stayed near my belly button, tracing around it, and dipping in a few times. All the while, he was teasing me, asking me how much it tickled, or how they weren’t judging me for that notebook, or my love of tickles.

Any coherent thought was out the window for me. This felt like I was living one of my notebook writing pieces. This was torture! They were killing me! But at the same time, this felt… satisfying. For years, I just wanted someone, or something, to make me laugh my troubles away. To tickle me until my brain turns to mush. To tease me and tell me that I wasn’t a freak…

And these two seemed happy to give me that comfort.

One this was for certain. I was happy.

But I could only handle so much. And due to being so touch starved, my tickle tolerance was lower than it should have been. My cheeks were red, and laughter tears were running down my face. Avery could tell I needed to breathe, so he stopped, and got Casper to stop too.

“Are you alright, Rubes?” Avery asked me. I nodded. Though those ghost hands still held me firm.

“Y-yes…” I muttered. Avery gave me a few minutes to catch my breath. My goodness… that was a rush I never thought I would feel again. I had brothers, and they tickled me before… but it was nothing like this.

“You’ve got a nice laugh, Rubes.” Casper mentioned. “You’re real sensitive, too… Almost as much as I am…” He chuckled nervously. Avery laughed slightly.

“See? You understand, Dewdrop.” Avery and Casper got off me, and helped me up. But those ghost hands still remained. They held my wrists just above my head, just barely exposing my armpits. Avery smirked once more.

“Now… I have one more spot I would like to try. Then I’ll let you go. You think you can handle it?”

I gulped, knowing exactly where he was going to go. Under my arms. They were about equal to my stomach in terms of sensitivity. But that meant it would be just as unbearable. Casper backed off, his cheeks turning red again.

“Besides, this is just another way to tease my Dewdrop~” Avery mused. “Their worst spot is here. And it’ll be fun to watch him get worked into a tizzy.” He tapped my left underarm with one finger, making me squeal. Casper covered his face.

“Avery!” Casper whined. Avery chuckled.

“Look, Dewdrop. Here’s what’ll happen to you, next.” He gently wiggled his fingers underneath both my arms, making me let out a scream so loud that Casper had to cover his ears.

I tried to tug my arms down, but those ghost hands held firm. They were not letting go, or even budging when I pulled. Though his fingers were over my shirt, it offered so little protection. It tickled so badly, and I had no way to stop my laughter, or my squealing. My cheeks turned red as the cloud teased not only me, but Casper too.

“Oh, this must be awful for you, Rubes. Or is it thrilling? I happened to notice the high amount of underarm tickles in your notebook. Almost as much as tummy tickles. Perhaps telling me your favorite spots to be tickled?~” He laughed, continuing to gently tickle under my arms.

“Kitchy, kitchy, coo~”

I practically lost it. Combined with Avery’s gentle fingers, his teasing just made it all the more torturous, and exciting. I felt lightheaded, either from the lack of air, or the thrill I was getting from this. Maybe a mix of both, even.

It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was eight minutes. Avery stopped his tickling, and let go of my wrists. The ghost hands disappeared, and I fell to my knees on the floor. Avery chuckled, and bent down. He placed a hand on my cheek.

“Now do you believe we won’t judge you?” I nodded slowly, too out of breath to speak. He smiled gently.

“Good.” Avery said in a gentle tone. “Those who judge you for this aren’t worth it. You are an incredible person, and just because you love tickles doesn’t make you weird in our eyes. In fact… it makes you more fun. You have such a sweet laugh.”

I sniffled slightly. I felt tears in my eyes. They were happy tears this time… Avery and Casper were just some of the sweetest people I had ever met. Without thinking, I wrapped Avery in a tight hug. He smiled, and returned it, rubbing my back with his hand. His touch was so soothing… Avery let go after a moment, before smirking again.

“Now, let’s hope you recover quickly so you can help me tickle my Dewdrop.” He said, making Casper perk up.

“Avery!” Casper cried.

He tried to run, but a pair of ghost hands quickly snatched his wrists and pulled them just above his head, like they did with me.

“Now wait a minute! This is cheating!” Casper yelped, struggling to pull down his arms, but those ghost hands had an iron grip despite being soft.

“Avery, please!” He begged, already giggling despite us not touching him yet. Avery chuckled.

“Come now, Dewdrop. This’ll be fun for all of us.” He turned to me for a moment. “I’ll tickle his neck, you tickle his tummy.” My smile faded when he told me that.

“I don’t know, Avery…” I muttered, backing up a little. “I don’t have that much experience with… this.” Avery laughed.

“It seems you can’t say ‘tickle’ either.” Avery teased. “Just like Casper. But if you’re really afraid of hurting him…” He handed me a couple of feathers. “Use these, Rubes. They’re gentle, with no chance of hurting him, and they’re very effective.” He fluttered his fingers over Casper’s neck, making him let out a higher pitched squeal than he’d like to admit.

I gulped slightly. I had tickle fights with my brothers before, and they were always a rush. However, my brothers always tickled me roughly, so I did the same back to them. But I had never tickled anyone with feathers before. Were they really as effective as they were in the stories I’ve read and wrote?

Only one way to find out.

“Sorry, Casper… Actually, I’m not. This is kinda just revenge.” I giggled slightly. I slipped the feathers underneath his shirt, and brushed them all over his tummy.

Casper screamed. He didn’t think feathers would be that effective, either. They weren’t as firm as Avery’s fingers, but they were soft and wispy, just enough to get the nerves stimulated.

“Avery! Rubes!” Casper cried, squirming as much as he could. But neither of us let up.

I was almost always the one receiving tickles, so it was kind of odd giving them after so many years. But at the same time, it was so liberating. I never thought I’d get the chance to tickle someone like this, with feathers for that matter. It was a completely separate feeling from being tickled, yet it gave the same rush.

Avery smiled listening to his little love’s laughter. It made him feel butterflies, and it only made his love for Casper grow. And Casper? Though he was begging through his screams of laughter, he was having fun. I was being gentle with him, and Avery knew exactly where to get him to get laughter.

Avery and I kept tickling Casper for almost twenty minutes, with a few breaks here and there. When Avery stopped, so did I. I pulled the feathers away, and the ghost hands released Casper’s wrists. Casper collapsed to the floor, taking several deep breaths. He was exhausted. Avery picked him up, and rested him on his fluffy bed. Rubes smiled slightly.

“You really love him, don’t you?” I asked. Avery nodded.

“Yes… He’s the light of my world. He means so much to me. And I appreciate that you’re there for him.” I nodded slowly.

“Of course… He’s so sweet. And talented…” I stated. Avery gave Casper a pillow to cuddle for a bit, while he led me back to the balcony.

“Come on… I’ll get you home. We already decided Casper will stay with me tonight.” Avery flew up into the night sky above, and that familiar whirlwind swirled around me, and carried me up with him.

Though the view was beautiful, and it felt incredible to be weightless, I was too exhausted to really feel the same rush. He had tickled nearly every bit of energy out of me, and that only increased while I was tickling Casper. Avery brought me back to my apartment window. It was pulled open, and he gently set me down inside.

“Today was wonderful, Rubes. And I’m so thrilled you’re a member of the community. I hope we can have fun like that again soon.” I nodded sleepily, and he flew off into the night.

I shut my bedroom window, and I went straight to bed. I was exhausted, but in the best way possible. I yawned, and flopped onto my bed, my cat hopping up and curling up next to me. As I drifted off, a small smile stayed on my face.

I was happy they accepted me.