#and I was almost so borderline embarrassed after that that I stumbled and fell moments after being put down.

[chilapis]

I love posts that are like “imagine your f/o picking you up” because they’re meant to be so sweet and gentle but every time I get picked up by a friend my brain just… shuts down. Like for whatever reason my brain physically fails to compute the situation. I cannot imagine what it would be like with Ajax

[siriusmydeer]

ok but imagine where reader is in relationship with James and she randomly decides do put on a red lipstick for the first time and he is

mesmerized??? and maybe they make out and he is all marked with red lipstick ??? idkidk

smears of vermillion

james potter x fem!reader

summary: james likes your new lipstick

word count: 1.6k

warnings: kissing, borderline marking, undertones of a size kink, fingering, clit play, praise, exhibition, undertones of voyerism, swearing

a/n: so i might’ve turned this into a smut !

red. vermillion. carmine. scarlet. 

it was enamouring, to say the least. 

something so abundantly alluring, an eye-catching shade, the most prominent colour of hogwarts as it was the respected and eminent colours that the headmaster once wore himself. 

the glide of the vermillion stick was like the colour of cascading wine in an extortionate carved glass that remained behind the shelves of an elegant restaurant that only accepted the most pristine of people could drink from. the colour releasing onto your lips as a dark carmine hue, the most socially acceptable colour of hogwarts. your lips were routinely coated in the slick gloss with an undertone of shell-pink, the gleaming shimmers lingering in the formula whilst you remained under the rays of light deluging from the sky above. mid-day you had opted for a change, electing to strode out through the courtyard, the opaque clouds hung lazily in the sky. the dreariness lingering in the sky as a downpour of rain cascading on students was soon approaching from the dim clouds.

you had endeavoured to find your boyfriend that was clad in the all too familiar and well-respected colour, most likely goofing off with his mates or hanging around the poltergeist that would heckle first years around the tranquil corridors of the night when they were supposed to be neatly tucked in their bed dreaming about winning their first house cup. 

while in your venture for your boyfriend, you had stumbled back to the castle in a seek. the skid of your heels against the tiled floors could be the only thing audible noise as most students were in the library during the remaining free period of the day before their finalizing classes of the steady-paced day. you had glimpsed the brunet tufts in the distance as he bid his mates a farewell and curled his arm around the glaucous strap of his satchel that lay on the contracting muscles of his shoulder.

as the boy strode he had caught view of you and your attire, the way your legs enveloped in your skirt that had been hemmed shorter than usual for female students, the waxen kilt displaying off the planes of your lustrous thighs, the loose buttons of your ivory blouse were slightly unbuttoned as well as your tie that hung lazily against your jugular. he was already truly content with the view that was pooling in his irises, his eyes gaping at the minuscule details of your face as he continued to gape at you. a searing burn arose to the apples of your cheeks as well as the tips of your eyes whilst his jaw fell slack at his irises finally glimpsing upon your coated vermillion lips. 

it wasn’t the usually shell-pink gloss that reflected beneath the sun’s rays during the days under the scottish lands. yet, being an unfamiliar colour to his cerulean splintering optics that lay behind his spectacles, he was truly infatuated with the effortless glide of the pigment against your lips. he trapezed over to you with bountiful ease in his step, the hast steps being almost too much to juggle on his conscious that he could trip and fall; yet, he would bow if he could, the simple presence of your figure bringing a tingling coil sensation in his belly.

“y/n,” he spoke with a small stammer in his sonorous voice, his jugular vibrating in the deep cavern of his throat where his vocal cords had matured, the newly profound and hoarse baritone bringing attention to many at the start of the semester. “james,” you replied with a grin, your eyes setting on his jaw that had remained slack since he had set his optics on you.

“that’s new,” he pointed out with the pad of his thumb running across the deep scarlet lipstick, your lips in a faint jut. the pressure of his digits remaining beneath your chin as his pollex glided across the creamy vermillion painted across your lips, the blend of vermillion spilling onto his thumb.

“yeah, i wanted to try something new.” you replied with a heavy sigh, taking it upon yourself to remove his hand from your chin and slide his fingers through your own in a warm enclasp whilst you sauntered around the corridors where the only sound to be heard was the clacking of your shoes and your synchronous breaths.

he glimpsed over at you, his chin dipping down for a few mere seconds in the skittish sensations that were swirling around his lower abdomen over the meagre sight of your coated lips. a trifling amount of pride seething in his clouded mind over the colour that you had been seen in displayed his prideful house colours. he excessively gulped, the cavity of his throat becoming exceedingly dry at his actions for the rather lewd thoughts he had been experiencing as you both had trudged. 

you deliberated in thought for a moment, pausing your movements and backing against the gold and ivory-ridden corridors. your brow elevated as your spine began to curve against the wall, the dermis of his cheeks increasingly reddening as your lips quirked into a smirk. his irises dilating into the dark stygian shade of black and begun to rapidly glimpse between your posture and the decrepit oak wood door that leads into the confined space of a broom closet that most likely hasn’t been opened in ages. 

your brow remaining quirked he opened the door with a small creak in the hinges, managing to have you against the same door with no doubt dust sticking into your backside whilst you were pressed against the door in the dark expanse. james was excessively taller than you, his hover remaining whilst his lips were pressed against your ear in a faint hush, “do you know what you do to me, love?” he inquired condescendingly as his hand made a heavy grip at your waist. 

at the shake of your head in a horizontal motion, his digits pressed faintly against your thigh, steadily navigating his forefinger to be pressed against the thin lace of your knickers. he caught the gasp emitting from your throat with his lips, completely raw and uncovered now the hue of red blending onto his lips. kissing you was tremendously different from any other person he had ever melded his lips with, it was like a breath of fresh air after suffocating, your tinging perfume lingering in the air as his chest was pressed against your midriff. the spillage of his tongue into the hollow cavern of your mouth against your lips was urgent. like he had been desperate for your touch, aching and yearning for the day it would occur, it could almost overpower your senses by how languishing it felt. 

he released a strained mewl at your separation, your lips trailing across his jawline whilst his forefinger unceasingly teased your swollen button in small circular motions atop of your panties. his digits thumbing around the sheet of lace to the of bucking your hips on the calloused pads of his palm at the mere sensations, his two fingers ridiculing you around your entrance that had remained clenched and eager for his touch.

the minuscule teasing circles unceasing as his middle and ring finger dipped into your cunt, the clench around his digits like a unbudgingly causing him to groan out whilst you had begun to whimper into the crevice of his neck now coated in smears of carmine red; the teasing of his fingers pumping through your cunt thoroughly edging you along as his fingers were buried deep inside of you. 

“‘m close, jamie.” you continued to mewl acutely into the curvature of his shoulder, feeling the way his muscles contracted against the flesh of your cheek, your legs beginning to tremble at his faint praises into your ear, “c’mon baby, f’me.” 

your delighted whimpers rolled off your tongue as the nearing euphoria crawled up your spine and bubbled over to a pit of hysteria in your belly to have your irises rolling back into your skull revealing the white pigment at the elation that had completely taken over your conscious mind, now in a state of ceasing pleasure. at your breathily ‘thank you's' he brought his digits to suckle at your sweet arousal, “we, erm, have class.” you lazily murmur, almost embarrassed, against the ivory dress shirt covering his shoulder. he had pressed a lax kiss to your temple before guiding you out of the closet with a beckoning hand against your lower back, a tingling sensation sweeping across your face; the both of you too sheepish to make eye contact with one another as you entered professor slughorns classroom. 

little did each of you know a vermillion paint-like substance had been smeared against his lips and large spilt marks in the shapes of kisses had clad his neck as well as carmine streaks clashing with ivory on his dress shirt. upon entering the classroom a familiar boy with long raven tufts had been sat with a leg propped against his desk awaiting his partners' arrival. sirius’ eyes had surveyed the room carefully before landing on the bespectacled boy with a sheepish grin on his face as well as the lipstick that was original carved with ease on your lips now smudged around both of your features.

sirius’ face had first crossed with shock, and his mouth dropping open slightly. james looked into his face and noted his rounded eyes, raised brows, slack expression and his brows creased at the now prominent smirk colliding with sirius’ quirked lips, “what?” james asked incredulously at what the gryffindor was smirking about. “mate, i didn’t know you wore lipstick?” he inquired in a ridiculing tone.

oh fuck.

taglist: @miss-starkov @ronbrokemyheart @aricela @inglourious-imagines @bikinibottomspeach @myalo-vasano-psixis @i-love-scott-mccall @kirascottage @five-cups-of-coffee @myloveforluna @abbott27 @hufflepuffsfordraco @slytherclawbitch @ggmniy @90steaology @voguetoday

[cornacopicimagines]

after hours│t.h

pairing: professor!tom holland x reader 

words: 6.9k (hehe nice)

warnings: swearing, PURE FILTH, sir kink, rough sex, masturbation (male & female), exhibition kink if you squint, spanking & sort of public sex.

summary:  It's wrong, y/n tells herself. She can't help it though. She can't help fantasising about him. At the other end of the class, Tom tells himself to stop staring at her. It's creepy, he thinks. Neither one knows of the mutual pining that is until tension bubbles over. 

a/n: I’m back bitches! I'm still a fucking sinner and this is such a cliche, I'm so so sorry

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n sat at the desk. Her eyes never left Mr. Holland. Her attention never left the way the veins in his arms bulged when he picked up the massive textbook, never left his perfectly gelled hair and how it sat atop his head like it was crafted to from the day he was born. Perhaps I should start typing the notes that were on the board, she scowled to herself.

She feels dirty, almost ashamed of her crush on him. She hates herself for falling into a stupid cliché that had been so easy to avoid all these tireless years. y/n doesn't know why she has gone back to a love-sick teenage girl fantasising about a boy who she'll never even get to touch. A boy that so out of her league, he wouldn't even had the faintest idea that she exists. That doesn't stop them though. y/n still finger fucks herself to an orgasm that no boy has been able to give her in her 24 years of life, all the while wishing it was his cock instead of her fingers. If Mr. Holland knew what she did to herself under the influence of him and his stupidly handsome face, he would be disgusted. This she knows for a fact.

This isn't what she thought she would be doing, in all honesty. She is a semester away from graduating and she never wanted to be stuck in a perpetual state of wanting someone so unattainable it's not uneasy, it's borderline unethical. She truly believed she would have ancient married professor that sound like their legs deep in their coffin. Instead she got a literal Greek God as her Psych professor.

She knows that she's not the only one of course. y/n has met 10 other girls in her class that probably write god awful poetry about Mr. Holland's liquid bronze eyes. She can't blame them, if she could write shitty poetry about him, she 100% would. y/n not angry either, she knows out of the 120 students (110 of whom are girls), are probably all in the same predicament. She sometimes gets dirty looks from them when Mr. Holland address her by her first name.

Perhaps that's something she should consider; he calls her y/n not Miss y/l/n or just simply Miss. It's different, it's endearing and when he has a raspy voice, it's so fucking hot.

"y/n," a voice called out, she shook herself out of her haze, "are you still with us?" Mr. Holland was no standing over her. His cologne surrounding her, intoxicating her. y/n gulped softly before turning her eyes to his.

"Yes, sorry sir," y/n replied quickly, trying her hardest not to stumble over her own words or even let the blush run to her cheeks.

Mr. Holland smiled warmly, "that's good, I need at least one of you listening," the class erupting in laughter, "I would prefer it to be one of the brightest." That though got them quiet. y/n sunk into her chair in embarrassment. The blush she had been fighting rose to the surface, making her even more adamant not to look up at him but alas she couldn't.

In that small fleeting moment, she caught something in his eyes. She couldn't define exactly what it was. Whatever it truly was, y/n knew teachers should not be looking at their students in such a way. It made her even more lightheaded with admiration.

The lesson continued on as normal for another hour. Mr. Holland described the outline for the next assignment, it seemed short and sweet. Write a 2-thousand-word essay on the effects of unintentional recreational drugs during early childhood. y/n had to laugh at the way Mr. Holland phrased it. It was as if he had never touch pot in his entire life, to be fair, y/n wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't. Most of the girls in his class groaned at the mere mention of actual work and not an hour and a half session of pure toe-curling orgasm material. Now that she thinks about it, that would be a wonderful way to spend her Wednesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.

Of course, y/n was in another word during the last minutes of the lesson. Unable to focus on anything other than the hint of a tattoo peeking through the underlining of his shirt. She was working so hard to distinguish what it was that she had completely missed the end of the lesson and the dozens of people walking out.

"y/n, what exactly are you doing?" Mr. Holland's voice asked above her. y/n almost jumped in her seat, but she stayed completely still. "This is the second time today, should I be worried?"

This though made her jump out of her seat. "No of course not sir!" She defended as she rushed to place her things away. "I was just off in wonderland today."

"Are you sure there is nothing distracting you?" He asked.

Yes.

"No," she replied hurriedly.

"You know you can tell me if something is," he reassured her.

Yes, of course. Let me just tell you about how you are distracting me by always wearing the hottest casual suits every lesson and giving me the wonderful fantasy of tearing it off you.

"I know that, it's just been my busy schedule," y/n lied through her teeth. She's a broke college student with hardly any friends or real other assignments. "I am just working really hard, you know?"

Yeah, working really hard to imagine you pounding me into next week!

With that last thought, y/n knew she needed to leave before she exploded with embarrassment and arousal right there in front of him.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are totally allowed to change the topic of the assignment if you feel like there is something that strikes a chord with you," Mr. Holland smiled brightly.

Fuck! Did he have to look so gorgeous even when he's trying to be dorky and supportive.

Mr. Holland noticed the shocked look upon y/n's face and immediately retracted his statement, "I promise I won't fail you, if that's what your thinking." He explained. "I really enjoy your work, you're a gifted woman with a real talent and I don't want to see it go to waste with my shitty assignment."

y/n turned her attitude around. He was stumbling over his words. It was kind of cute and endearing, like everything he does. She smiled warmly at his compliment.

"Sir," she spoke softly. It came out a lot mouseyer and somehow sexual than she would have liked but she refused to back out of her statement. "I can't wait."

She didn't say another word but simply slung her back over her shoulder and made her way out of the class. Tom followed her figure in complete and utter shock. He praised whatever god watched over him for the small mercy that was having y/n's back turned to him to witness his immediate blush cover his entire freckled face.

Tom never let his eyes leave her. He just watched her waltz right out of his classroom, he bit his lip at the sight of her perfectly cupped ass in her jeans. Through-out the entire lesson, all he could think about is how her tits would bounce as his dick thrusted up into her little cunt. Just the thought made his cock spring to life.

He stared up at the clock. He had to be in another lecture in 10 minutes, he had to teach another round of student without her pretty face in it in 10 bloody minutes. Sadly, it wasn't enough time to imagine cumming over her said face. He fidgeted until his painful erection was safely hidden.

God, you are such a fucking creep, Holland. He thought to himself.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n really didn't want to be doing this.

She really didn't want to have to walk to the library in a mini skirt she had when she went through her cringy hoe phase and a low-cut tank top she only really wore to bed at 8 at night. Luckily before she left, her roommate gave her a full can of pepper spray and a pocketknife. A handle tool for when you looked like a prostitute.

She had no choice. It was laundry night and she had to get her assignment out of the way, or she would never finish it in time. She wanted to kick herself for letting laundry night fall on the only night the library stayed open until midnight. It was a perk for sure but not when you had nothing to wear but pink neon rags.

y/n pushed open the library door and relieved herself of the anxiety of being abducted by the greeting of Harry. He looked familiar but she couldn't pinpoint where she had seen his face before.

"What cha doing here?" he shouted. Quite contradictory for a librarian. y/n grinned when she saw his dorky face at the counter. That is until he caught wind of her outfit, or lack thereof. "Got a late shift at the strip-club after this?" Her face fell.

"I hate you," she played along, her arms slumping on the cold desk. y/n looked around the library. It was basically empty, with the exception of the middle-aged teacher grading a stack full of papers. Poor bastard, y/n thought. "Got one for me?"

"You're going to get me fired if I do this again," Harry huffed, he banged his head against the keyboard in frustration.

"This is the last time," y/n explained, "I pinkie promise." She lifted her hand over the counter and waved her pinkie finger in Harry's face. He stared up her than move his eyeline to her finger now just touching the tip of his nose. He groaned loudly as he took her finger in his.

"There is a ton of empty booths, choose one and don't make a sound," Harry told her angrily, y/n simply clapped her hands in celebration and skipped off. She chooses the booth in range of Harry, in hopes that maybe he will distracted her and she won't have to do her work because she's too busy goofing off.

y/n dropped her stuff in a huff. Her back slumped into the curve of the chair and the desk covered her body happily. She placed her earphones in and played her favourite study music. She was in absolute heaven.

The assignment was kicking her ass, but she was determined to do it. Mr. Holland seemed genuinely excited for what she would write about if she did decide to change the topic. Now though she's regretting not letting Mr. Holland's hopes down.

She could find hardly anything online and even if she did it was by some random SJW on Tumblr. That's what lead her here tonight. In hopes that maybe some privileged white asshole with a degree would have some sources sighted to help her. Unfortunately, she was having trouble with that too.

It was now 11:30pm. She had been at this god forsaken table for two and a half hours now in an endless pursuit of bullshit. y/n had half a mind to give up and just suck his dick for the grade like other girls would in this situation. y/n had to remind herself though, she is a gifted woman with a real talent that should not be wasted on something shitty to please the masses. Did she just quote Mr. Holland?

She caught eyes with Harry in her block, who had two pencils stuck up his nose in an attempt to cheer her up. It did for the most part. y/n wanted to play along but it had seemed someone else had walked through the door at that very moment and Harry threw the pencils out. Harry's face lit up with red upon the arrival of this mystery person. y/n was interested in who this mystery person was. That is until she saw his face.

Mr. Holland walked up to the library desk in a fit of laughter. His hands smacking the counter and his face contorted in a wide smile. y/n instantly ducked under the table. She could faintly hear their conversation. It just sounded like muffled words until her name popped up.

Jesus Christ. Not now. Not tonight. Why of all night to run into his must it have to be tonight. Maybe I should make a run for it now, bust out of the wind-

"I know you're under there y/n," Mr. Holland's voice sung above her. It was too late now. Any escape plan that her mind frantically tried to rationalise was long gone by this point. Slowly, y/n retreated from her hiding spot to face him. He had his normal outfit of a tight t-shirt paired with a decorative tie and slightly lose pants. This time though he had a long burgundy coat draped over his shoulders. He looked like a painting. y/n smiled sheepishly.

"Hi," she said simply. Regaining her seat from before and fully appearing in front of him. "I had no idea you would be here this late," she tried with conversation.

"Harry's my brother, I have to drive him home before leaving myself and he just wanted to work the late shift tonight," Tom laughed to himself and he turned around and waved at Harry. His brother waved back guiltily. "You know, I could say this same to you," he smirked at her.

"I am working on your assignment, sir," y/n responded quietly. Tom's eyes lit up at that and he rushed to snatch the papers off her desk and into his hands. Much to the disapproval of y/n.

"Oh good, you've decided to change it," Tom sounded almost relieved as if he trusted her judgement more than his own. Worse of it all, he decided to sit down next to her. Even taking off his coat, making his biceps bulge through his shirt. His eyes flicked through what she currently has. His eyebrows raised in shock, "I have to say, I was not expected you to decide to do something about the female orgasm and its effect on the psyche," his voice was an octave deeper than usual. y/n could feel her arousal building.

y/n couldn't decide if he was just being friendly or if he was trying to send a deeper message. Either way, she decided to take action. "Well, with the number of women being unsatisfied I thought it was an appropriate topic," she snatched the papers out of his hands, "but you wouldn't know anything about women being unsatisfied would you sir?"

Tom sat there in astonishment. His cock stiffened against the restraints of his jeans, he has only been in her vicinity for 5 minutes and already she has him hard as a rock. It was times like these that he wished he could just leave all his determination to fuck her over this very desk at the door. Regrettably, he couldn't.

"Well, that just ruins the surprise," y/n sighed delicately. Her fingers flicking through the pages of her useless book. "Either way, the resources are complete shit," this time her sadness was real, and Tom snapped out of his lust-ridden haze.

"Did you really expect a man to know mostly everything of something that is so cardinally female?" Tom smirked as he closed the book on her and pointed to the photo of a wrinkled old man. He was the author of a stupid book and to be fair, he looked like he would write this type of book as well.

"Damn, I knew I was doing something wrong," y/n hissed. She had been spending her entire night trying to piece together information from a man who can only give her half the story.

"The book on the top shelf is one on the chemical effects of orgasming in females by a female," Tom leaned in and whispered in her ear. His hot breath wafted of her skin; it was enough to send goose bumps over her entire body. y/n turned her head to face him, their lips inches away from each other. If they didn't have Harry watching them like a hawk, they probably would be out of breath from lip-locking. Instead, y/n nodded and got up out of her seat, making sure to give him a stunning view of her tits through her tank top. He wanted to audibly gasp but kept in inside. It didn't help with his situation downstairs any more than the last few minutes have.

Slowly, she walked over to the bookcase. Her eyes scanning the endless rows and she made sure Tom had enough time to enjoy the deep red thong underneath her skirt. Finally, her fingers coiled around the book and brought it down to her. Tom couldn't believe his own eyes. He was so under her spell. The way her top hugged her curved and let his eyes completely drink in her breasts. How her skirt was pulled up to her waist, allowing the flushed skin of her ass to be visible to him. He wonders how a woman like her even exists and yet she takes a seat next to him, absolutely unaware of his throbbing manhood. Begging to be touched by her, to be taken by her, by anything to do with her.

"Thank you, sir," she almost purrs to him, Tom's struggling to keep it together. He afraid the next thing to slip out of her flawless mouth, he'll cum straight into his pants when he would rather cum into her.

"Anytime," he responds just a dark before getting up. Hiding his clearly hard cock behind his briefcase. "I'll see you in class?" He already knows the answer, but he just wants the last bit of assurance from her.

"Of course," she smiled warmly. With that Tom basically books it, he's frantically making sure he's well-hidden as he quickly bends over the counter.

"I'll come back to pick you up in 30, I forgot some paper work back in my office," it's so fast, Harry almost doesn't have time to translate it before Tom's out the door and rushing down the hall.

At one point, he basically running to get to his office. Feet tapping against the concrete as he continues to see nothing but flashing images of y/n. It blurs his vision and he's so desperate. He considers using a spare supply closet but know he will only get complete privacy in his own office.

He finally gets there, after what seems like an eternity of running. He checks the hallways before entering. He drops all of his things at the foot of the door. He even has the decency to hang his coat upon the rack. Tom slowly walks over to his chair. It's a rough leather material and usually he would refuse to do what he's about to do in here, it will be stained with the memory but at this point. He got no fucks left to give.

He crashes down. His back hitting the material he hates so much. He doesn't think he's got time, but he still does it slowly. His belt drops next to his and he undoes the zip slowly and the cold air hits his dick. He hisses at the feeling but proceeds anyways. Tom pulls the rest of his jeans and boxers down his legs and kicks them across the room. His hand takes his dick, slowly rubbing the head. Imaging y/n's fingers dancing over it, spreading the precum over. He uses his palm to envision her own stroking up and down in an even motion. He can't help but moan. He can't help but softly call out her name.

He so entranced that he doesn't recognize the following light footsteps approaching. He's so into her non-existent touch that he doesn't hear the door peacefully squeak open. He's so in love with the feeling he doesn't feel y/n walk around the room to get on her knees in front of him.

She's in glory of his movements. Watching him stroke his much bigger cock than her masturbation version has her in a hurry to get her own panties off her body and across the floor. She's sure she's dripping onto the wood below but she does have single care in the world. Tom has his head thrown back in ecstasy as his hand starts to speed up, that's when y/n decides to go for the kill. She licks a long strip up his shaft. Her hands stabilizing him by placing them atop his bare thighs.

Tom almost jumps out of his chair. He had no idea she caught him in the middle of something so vile and wrong. Better yet, she had caught him with the tip of his dick around her perfectly glossed lips. He doesn't get to say another word before y/n's hands begin massaging the bottom of his manhood. It's slow to begin with, it's almost if she's easing him into it. Her cheeks hollow out to allow his length into her warm mouth. It's incredible. Tom can't help but buck his hips up into her throat causing her to gag slightly. It's a sound he wants more of.

His hands ball her hair into his fist. With the faster her movements become, the harder he fucks into her mouth. They sync up almost instantly. One of y/n's hands leave his cock to fuck herself. Tom's mesmerised by the way her fingers act as a replacement for his dick. He's certain he's not going to last much longer.

"I should be d-doing that," he whispers through grunts. y/n lifts her head to smile at him, still letting her free hand jerk and pull bringing him closer the edge.

"I know," she responds, just as quiet. Her mouth reconnects but Tom quickly snaps his hips up into her. Her muffled moaning vibrated against his cock as he fucks her mouth. It's the hottest thing he's ever done. He tugs and pulls at her hair, y/n's edging him on. She's exquisite, it's like she's mastered this and has allowed him to chance to feel how fucking beautiful her little mouth can be.

Like it's effortless, he comes. Without any warning, he is shooting hot stream of cum into her mouth, filling it up. Tom swears he's seeing stars but can't bring him to call out her name but instead bites down on his hand so hard he's afraid he's drawn blood.

y/n releases him from her mouth and is from an actual porn Tom spent his teenage years watching, his cum leaks from her lips and falls down on the curves of her tits. It's a sight he was to remember forever. He wants to grab his phone and click so he will get to look at her covered in his cum for the rest of his life but alas, he's still regaining his bearings.

"Tastes better than I would have expected," y/n giggles as she brings the liquid back up to her lips and swallows. There is no way this woman gets better; he thinks to himself.

"Sweetheart-," he begins but she beats him to it, her gets back on her feet and plants a sweet kiss upon his lips. He can taste himself on her lips, it's addictive.

"I wanted this," it's almost as if she read his mind. He doesn't respond but he simply looks at her, his hand coming up to twirl a strand of hair that has fallen in front of her face.

y/n pulls away from him, walking over the pile of discarded clothes and bend to pick up her soaked underwear. She gives Tom a look, he's so close he can smell her juices from his seat. Her pussy look like a paradise waiting to be exploded by him, but he keeps his hands to himself. y/n paced herself over to the coat hanger, her folded panties in hand. She places them in the left pocket with a devilish smile upon her face. Tom had now place their rest of his clothes back on and had joined her.

"I'll get them back next lesson," y/n grins. Tom nods quickly, their feet fumbling under her back hits his office door. She's trapped in between him, he smells of pure sex but she's committed to her idea. He bends down to capture her lips in his with a forceful kiss. It's hungry and needy. She wants it so badly to give but she pulls away. "My roommate is waiting for me outside."

"We'll finish this," Tom whispers as he opens the door for her. It sends shivers down y/n's spine. It's not a promise, it's an order.

She grabs the rest of her things and heads off. Almost in a sick turn of events, Tom watches her bare ass strut away from him. Just like the last lesson, except this time all he can do is imagine him face fucking her. It's a beautiful sight.

━━★✼☆｡

The three days leading up to class where probably the slowest 72 hours both of them had ever experienced. A constant detail of pleasure from the night before. So when the fated day arrived, both parties didn't know what to do. Tom debated just staying home, though he couldn't deny he so desperately want just another taste. He thought, if he didn't show up, all his guilty conscience of a student giving him the best head he's ever had in his life would simply disappear and he would go back to being a normal teacher. y/n, too, thought of skipping this class for a completely different reason. Perhaps she had got a surge of confidence after hearing her professor call out her name while he touched himself or it could just be the pure scandalous nature of it all. Either way, she wanted to stay cooped up with a blanket while she watched him unravelled. No matter the psyche from the both of them, they went.

y/n stood outside the classroom for a good 20 minutes, unsure of what she should do. Should she go in now and fuck him in the small window or wait and play with his emotions? She hadn't realised how fast the time had went until she saw other student's start entering. It was now or never and unfortunately it was going to be now.

The room was smaller than y/n remember when she stepped in. It seemed more wide the last time she came in here. Of course, the last time she came in her, she hadn't sucked Mr. Holland's cock.

Her eyes landed on him in a matter of seconds. His back was turned to her as he wrote on the massive blackboard in front of him. y/n could see his muscles flex as he tried to reach for the duster above the board. She bit her lip as she thought of her nails digging into his back as he fucked her. It was a fantasy she had to push to the side.

Tom could practically smell her once she walked in. It was her normal perfume that had been intensified 10 fold. He refuses to turn around, afraid that if he did all his good heart nature would go out the window. Tom could hear the faint clinking of the heels of her shoes walk up the stairs. He so desperately wanted them to come right back down.

"Okay, as you know, you're assignment is due in 2 weeks and this is going to be the only time I will answer your questions," Tom's voice boomed. He hadn't got a lot of sleep since that night and he didn't particularly want to do this but he considered himself a kind professor, so he had too.

He turned around and saw the entire class' hands go straight up in the air. Including y/n, though hers was a little lower. Her eyebrow raised and a small smirk painted on her lips. There was no way in hell he was answer whatever question came out of those pretty lips. She looked even more exquisite than when he last saw her. A tight t-shit that had a stained 50's logo on it and a pair of tight black jeans, he knew as soon as he spoke to her, he would loose all control on himself.

So he never did, constantly dodging her. Answering every single question, even if half of them were if he was married or worse if he was free Friday night. He will admit, seeing y/n get frustrated every time he passed her to talk to another young female student made him just that tad bit excited.

It was an hour and a half of pure tension. Sure, no one else in the class could feel it but they 100% could. She never felt more out of control and for some reason, she despised it. He kept ignoring her, kept refusing her, kept defying her. It was infuriating, that she wanted to take fate by the hair.

She waited, until every single soul had walked out of the door. She waited until the last gaggle of girls had finished their blabbering to Tom before she starting to strut down the stairs. Tom refused to meet her eyes even when he knew that's all she did. Glare at him as she stomped past him desk to the classroom door. He heard it lock.

"I wanted to ask you a question," she almost spat, "sir."

Tom straightened himself before swivelled around to meet her. She was so livid with him but he knew deep down that all she wanted from him was to have the white chalk from the board rubbed up her back from him pinning her down.

"Fire away," he responded exactly the same. She stared at him for a moment before strolling towards him. She made sure to swing her hips every other time. She noticed his eyes on her, finally she was getting somewhere.

y/n pressed her chest upon his heaving one. Her face lifting to meet his. They stayed like that for a good minute, just pondering. They listened to each other's heats thumping against their rib cages. They both desperately needed this.

Never taking her eyes off him, y/n snaked her hand around the side of pocket of her coat, smiling once she found what she left. Her soaked red thong, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"I wanted to ask if I was every going to get payback?" she giggled softly. Tom knew she was playing a game but he had no idea which one it was.

"I don't think I understand," he stammered, she strutted away from him until she met the edge of his stainless desk. Her fingers gliding over the wood ever so slightly. She turned her head to look at him. She had a rawness in her eyes; lustful, a sinner's stare. It would be a look Tom was never forget for the rest of his life.

y/n suddenly jumped on the desk. Her ass moving the papers to the side as she slowly started to unbutton her tight jeans. "I think you do," it was almost a hiss but he only heard the desperation in her voice. "I want you to make me feel all the things you did that night."

Tom almost fainted just with that until she dropped her jeans the floor. She had come to class without any underwear on and her wetness was dripping onto the desk. Tom was sure was in heaven but he didn't want to believe it.

He got on his knees. His hands palming at her soft thighs. Tom didn't need another incentive, he didn't need another spur-on. Tom licked a single strip up her folds, y/n bit a moan back. It was like tasting ambrosia or doing cocaine for the first time. He needed more, so he went back in again, this time it was rougher. His fingers gripping at her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth as he devoured as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Her hands tangle themselves in his floppy curls, she tugs harshly on his scalp as he adds a finger into her warm entrance.

Tom's never felt like this before but he doesn't care. He's sure people can hear her soft but frantic moaning from outside, but he doesn't care. He'll never look at his desk the same way but like everything else, he doesn't fucking care. Tom curls his fingers in the perfect spot inside of her.

"Just like that," y/n calls out, her hair now sprawled out on the desk. "I'm going to cum sir."

Tom feels her walls contract around his fingers as he pulsing faster, her back arches and she trying so hard to force her cries back into her throat. It's a sight he wants to from above, it's a feeling he wants to feel inside of her. So, at the last minute, he retracts everything. His tongue leaves her throbbing clit and his finger, which are glistening with her slick, slid out of her.

y/n can't hold back to whine that leaves her left from the loss of his god-like tongue and fingers. "What the fuck Tom?!" she's angry with him, she wants to tell him off but before she can do it. One of his hands captures her wrist and slams them against the desk below her, pinning her to it. She whimpers at the sting of pain.

He's right above her but she can't see a single thing below her. "Look at me," he tells her sternly, she does what's she is told instantly. "You can't talk to me like that sweetness," y/n knows there is a venom behind his words even if she speaks in a melody. "I'm not your fucking boyfriend, you don't call me that."

Without any warning at all, he pounds right up into her. y/n almost spasms out of Tom's grip from the wave of pleasure. Tom doesn't move at all, he stays nuzzled inside her. It's agonising, almost painful for y/n. Having his perfect cock not jamming into her tight cunt. It's torture.

"You understand that?" he peppers kissed against the nape of her neck, she's about to cry out, she'll do anything. She nods her head frantically, hoping it's enough. It isn't. He keeps his hips locked tightly against hers. "Words, sweetness."

"Yes," she responds. She can feel him frown against her skin. He pulls right out of her and rams right back in, causing y/n to scream out in pleasure. "Y-yes sir," she corrects herself and with that, Tom starts a pace. It's slow and tantalising, he watches amazed at how her pretty folds swallow him up with every thrust. It's magnificent.

He wants to savour this moment forever. He wants to fuck her brains out for every waking moment of his existence.

"Sir, go harder," she moans below him. Her wrists bruised from his gripped, but the pain just only contributes in her overwhelming amount of pleasure. His thick cock is so much better than her fingers, no matter how many she adds.

Tom obliges and starts to really pound into her cunt. It's raw and ruthless, he's calling out her name now. "Fuck sweetness, you so bloody tight," he purrs, y/n can't respond through her chant of curses. "You're little cunt was made for me, it was made for me to stretch it out."

The dirty talk elevates her, y/n's not sure how much longer she'll last. His filling ever last inch of her. She can feel her tits bounce every time their skin collides. Her wrists are finally let free as he begins to clutch at her naked hips. It's an experience she's never felt. The sound of skin slapping and their combined gasping and cursing are the only thing she can perceive to hear. If there was a knock at the door, y/n knows she would have no idea about it.

Perhaps, it's the pure excitement and morality of this whole situation that makes them both feel like they're on cloud nine. Her arms snake around his waist, her hands move with every rough thrust into her. She's gripping onto his back through the material of his tight shirt. Her nails clasping on the contracting muscles. She would have left his back red and sore if he didn't have the damned t-shirt on to protect him.

"Fuck," she curses as he started to hit an area inside of her, she never knew existed. "Just like that sir, I am going to cum," she moans, her forehead against his. They lock eyes again, this time though there is no linger feeling of want or romance. It's just sex. Dirty, hot, intense fucking.

She's the first to come undone. The fire now transformed into a raging wildfire spreading across her entire abdomen. y/n throws her head back in ecstasy, her whole vision goes black and she has to bit down against her hand to stop and inevitable pornographic scream to jump out of her mouth. Her other hand clutches his neck, pulling him closer to her.

Tom follows shortly after, his thrusts become sloppy and erratic but never easing up. His cock twitches inside of her before he shots the hot white liquid all inside of her cunt. He pressed his lips against her as his attempt to stop his moan as well but he continues to call out her angelic name against her lips. Once, Tom pulls out of her, he watches in awe. The mixture leaks out of her hole and then pools on his desk. He's so in love with this woman it hurts.

"I have never cum that hard in my entire fucking life," she giggles, pulling her top down her flushed tits. As he too, starts to redress himself, he simply stares at her. Watches her retrieve her jeans from the floor and slip them up her bare ass. He spots her shove her panties back into his back pocket, not before she scribbles something down on a torn piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. She nuzzles her face in the crook of her.

"I'm giving you a reason to come make me dinner and then fuck me again," she explains, "I put my address in there, so hopefully you can't get lost."

"You sure about this," Tom asked hesitantly, y/n now swivelled around to face him. Her warm palm caressed his face.

"I wouldn't have just done that if I wasn't," she places a soft, tender kiss to his cheek. "Make it a Thursday though, my roommate will be out on those nights," she told him as he grabbed the last of her things and unlocked the door. Tom grins warmly as she makes herself presentable for the last time. "I would clean that up if I were you," y/n laughed, pointing at the obvious mess all over his desk before quickly exiting.

As she wobbled back to her dorm, she wondered what article of clothing she should leave out on their next escapade.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: this is gonna flop, i just fuckin know it 🥴 anways i hope you enjoyed my fic that has ended my hiatus. see you (hopefully) soon 🥺

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[anna-justice]

too Close for Comfort - Upstead

Summary: Throwback to the aftermath of “Lines,” in season seven. This is the conversation between Jay, Voight and Hailey that we didn’t get to see.

Warnings: swearing, PTSD?, angst

Requested: Yes! #75, “What did you need to tell me?”

…

“Shut the door.”

Hailey slammed the door of her car shut, falling breathlessly into the driver's seat. It was freezing, the air inside being even colder than the frigid wind outside. Hailey threw her head back against the seat, numb to the frosty touch, she shook ever so slightly, having left her coat on her chair in the haste to get out of the district. 

“So this is something we’re doing now?” 

Soon, the temperature began to set in and Hailey broke her trance long enough to turn her keys in her ignition, suddenly being blasted with air as cold as Chicago winter wind. She didn’t bother to turn it down, it would warm up eventually and hopefully her with it. With no feeling in her ears or her hands, she hit the steering wheel, a single tear escaping her eye. She was surprised it didn’t freeze against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing. 

“Do you understand, you crossed the line?”

She did, she knew what she did was wrong, but she just wanted to feel something. The cold air circulated throughout her car, making it borderline inhabitable. If her fingers were moving against the dash, she didn’t know, she felt nothing. She wanted to feel something: guilt, fear, remorse, even. But she didn’t. All she knew is that she had crossed the threshold of something she couldn’t even see, and all she felt was void. Part of her thought she would be happy, or maybe prideful. She had helped put away a violent criminal and saved another man ten years of life wasted, but the Hailey that had done that wasn’t recognizable to her anymore.

“The lines, they are real clear.”

And she wished they were, in Chicago at least. She knew that at the FBI there was almost a marked path of steps on the floor to take, you couldn’t miss it. But she wished it were that easy at home. She wished that she was afraid of them, like she always was before. But everything seemed different now, ever since Jay was shot her world had been upside down. She watched him cross the line with Marcus, and then with Angela. He was just trying to do the right thing and it almost got him killed, it was so clear to Hailey. 100%, without a doubt, get Jay out of this. He was crazy, supporting the family of the man he got killed, he was too close. But then, she was too close to see that he was never going to move on, not without doing everything he possibly could to help them.

God, it was so normal. It felt like everyone around her got the benefit of the doubt but her. Letting Angela walk to keep Jay’s secret was wrong, an oversight that the old Hailey never would have made. But the old Hailey didn’t watch her partner bleed out on a basement floor, the old Hailey didn’t plant evidence in peoples cars, the old Hailey didn’t dare take a step out of line.

“I don’t want you to be me.” 

She didn’t want to be him, but she didn’t see any other way. There was no going back now. Not after Cameron’s death, not after Darius. She wasn’t the same person who walked in and spilled coffee on Platt all those years ago. She felt like a fraud, and the only person that could really see her may never forgive her. Why would he? Hailey put on her seatbelt, willing herself to drive out of the parking lot, she had a lot of packing to do. 

“Hailey, I’m starting to wonder if you can do it.” 

She did too, she wondered what happened to her. Maybe it was the job: maybe she was hardening, losing her morality or just getting bored. But it felt like so much more than that. She had a family now, a real one, and she would do anything to protect them. She loved Vanessa, and she hated seeing her hurting. Of course she had to help Luis, she couldn’t watch Vanessa spiral. She was attached, something she had never let herself be before. 

Hailey’s phone buzzed in her cup holder, bringing her back to reality. Her car had finally decided to warm up, and now she felt on the verge of overheating.

Jay Halstead: I’m at Backdoor, text me when you get here. I’ll wait to go in.

Hailey groaned, feeling her eyes well up again. She forgot that she had plans to meet Jay at their bar, it had been a rough case, a rough day. It was their thing. She was dreading it, but she had to tell him. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. 

…

Jay’s phone buzzed in his hand showing Hailey’s caller ID. He picked it up immediately. “Hey.” He said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming through quiet and cut off.

Jay sat forward in his seat, “What’s wrong?” Worry laced thick. 

“Jay,” She said, almost like she was bracing herself. “I’m going to New York.” 

“What?” The words just kind of fell out of his mouth.

He heard Hailey take a deep breath on the line, “Voight is loaning me out to the FBI, the field office in New York. I leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t understand…” Jay trailed off, “Why?”

“I-I messed up Jay.” She said, her voice breaking. “I did something really stupid and I guess this is my punishment.” 

Jay was seething and he wasn’t exactly sure why, “He can’t do this, he can’t just ship you off-”

“He can and he did.” Hailey cut him off. They were quiet for a moment. “I should go, I need to pack and my flight is early. I just wanted to tell you.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Jay stumbled over his words. “Thank you, for letting me know.” 

Hailey breathed out a little laugh, “You think I would just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Jay froze for a second, she didn’t understand the weight of her own words. “You? No. Just, still, I appreciate it.” He had a million questions, but it seemed like she wasn’t really up for answers. 

“You’re my partner,” She said without hesitation, “And you will still be my partner when I’m there and you will still be my partner when I get back.”

Those words were his anchor, she was coming back. “Damn right.” He paused, “Get some sleep and text me before you take off, so I know you got through security okay.”

“Of course. Goodnight Jay.”

“Goodnight Hailey, have a safe trip.” And with that the line went dead.

Jay could feel his blood boiling, he smoothly threw the truck back into gear and high tailed it out of the parking lot. There was someone he needed to talk to.

…

10 minutes later Jay burst into Voight’s office. “You’re sending Hailey to New York?”  

Voight put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, he should have seen this coming. “The FBI needs a loan out officer, I thought it would be a good opportunity.” He said, calmly. 

Jay paced around the small office, his hands resting on his hips. He was so mad he couldn’t form a sentence. “How could you do this to me? Again?” 

“This isn’t about you Jay…” Voight said, his voice getting a little louder. 

Jay scoffed, “Like hell it is.” They stared each other down for a moment. “Kevin would have loved this chance, Adam too, and you’re telling me that Kim didn’t need an escape right now?” He didn’t understand why it had to be Hailey, punishment or not. “Why Hailey?”

“Upton knows why.” Voight said shortly.

“Then tell me!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m her partner.” 

Voight stood, throwing the file he was reading down on his desk. “She needs this.”

“Well, I need her.” Jay snapped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. 

Voight scoffed, “Jay, I told you a long time ago that if you want to be in my unit, you keep it in your pants.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Jay spat. “It’s in.” He sighed. “Hank, I can’t lose another partner to the feds. I can’t start over again.”

Voight took a breath, looking at the hurting young man in front of him. “Erin leaving was hard on me too, but ultimately it was her choice. She chose to leave and not come back. I gave Upton a temporary assignment, she is welcome back wherever she is ready.”

She is coming back, she is coming back, she is coming back. He almost felt like he was manifesting it. “What is she doesn’t?”

“Then that’s her choice.” Hank said, “Either way, you are yelling at the wrong person right now. Go home Jay.” 

Jay nodded, “Yeah, okay.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

Jay gave him a short nod before quickly leaving the office. He was feeling so many things he could barely stand it. He was embarrassed for blowing up on Voight and basically admitting his feelings for his partner to his boss. He was dreading the next few weeks without Hailey, he was dreading the constant stress of her deciding to stay. He was sad, all this New York talk was dredging up old memories, ones he wished he could just erase. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure who he was even mad at. And now he was scared, because somehow his truck ended up outside of Hailey’s house. 

He wasn’t sure why he was there or what he was going to say, but he just needed to see her. Jay made his way to the front door, knocking. The door swung open to reveal Vanessa, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. “Hey.” Jay said, he had forgotten about the roommate situation. 

“She’s upstairs.” The young officer said, skipping all niceties. 

Jay nodded, “Thanks.” He looked up the staircase, debating just calling her downstairs. This felt like a line they have never crossed, one he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for, but tonight wasn’t the night for playing it safe. He made his way up the carpeted stairs, the pictures hanging along the wall catching his eye. He was surprised to see that he was in most of them. 

There was on at the very top of just the two of them, he remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday. They had just made a big bust, Voight and Antonio had taken the suspect in while the rest of the unit stayed behind to work with patrol. They were all so excited to finally get the guy off the street, it was one of those really good days on the job. He was pretty sure Kim took the picture, but they were both leaning against a squad car. You can’t see it, but Jay had his arm resting on Hailey’s back while hers and his other one held their vests. She was leaning against his, grinning like she normally was. 

When he willed himself to leave memory lane, he made his way to the top of the stairs, wandering for a moment down the hall to what he assumed was Hailey’s room. He met the threshold and was taken aback. Hailey had his back to him, an open suitcase on her bed. There were clothes everywhere in different folded piles and strewn across the floor. He knocked on the door frame and Hailey turned around immediately. “Hey,” He said quietly.

“Uh, hi.” She said, running a hand through her hair. She had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, something that Jay had never seen her in. “What are you doing here?” 

Jay shrugged, “I just wanted to see you before you left. Make sure you were okay.” 

Hailey shook her head, going back to throwing things in the suitcase. “I’m fine, Jay.” 

Jay took a step into the room and then a few more, crossing yet another line. He made his way to Hailey, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was standing less than two feet from her bed. “Hailey, talk to me.” 

Hailey sighed, “This is a really good opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready, and I don’t think I even want it. Is that ungrateful? This whole thing just feels tainted.” 

“Hailey you are a good cop, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” Jay said softly.

“Jay, you don’t know what I did-”

“It doesn’t matter Hailey.” Jay said, cutting her off. “No matter what you did, you are going to kick ass in New York.” He was being completely serious, even if it was the last thing he wanted, he knew she was going to thrive there. “You’ve got this.” He stood up to leave, he couldn’t lay all his fears and worry on her now, he had to be supportive. 

“Jay-”

“Have a good trip Hailey, call or text whenever you want.” His chest felt tight as he reached the doorway, debating not looking back at her. Every part of him knows he needs to walk out that door, but he can’t forget all the times this has happened before. “What were you going to tell me?”

“Jay, I don’t want to leave.” Hailey calls across the room. 

There are a million things he wants to say, but not now. Not right before she flies 800 miles away. “I don’t want you to leave either.” 

Hailey gives him a soft smile, it’s enough confirmation for them both. She’s leaving, but she will be back. And for then,that was enough.

…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic, I haven’t done one like it in a long time. I got the inspiration for this while listening to Meet us at Molly’s @meetusatmollys (check out this podcast on Podbean, you won’t regret it!). Thank you for reading! <3

P.S. comment/reblog to be added to my one-shot tag list

[jawritter]

Second Chance

Part 2 (Final)

Warning: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited/requited love, young mistakes, light smut, unprotected smut, depression, panick attack, language, domestic voilence (a slap), I think that’s it.

Summary: No one has life figured out at 18, but can one mistake made and twenty-one years of hurt and regret be fixed with an “I’m sorry?”

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3885

A/N: This is one of my older stories from WattPad that I wanted to bring over here and clean up a little. This is completely unbeta’d, and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold! Part two will be posted tomorrow! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen pulled his baseball cap down lower over his face to hide his features from unsuspecting passing customers, his eyes glued on the door, as he ideally ran his finger over the rim of his coffee that had gone virtually untouched in front of him as he sat in the back booth at the little coffee shop in Dallas that he quite honestly couldn’t even remember the name of.

Jessie had said she'd meet him here over an hour ago, now she was late, and he was quickly losing his patients.

The coffee shop was already filling again for the second time since Jensen had taken his seat. He watched the people closely, afraid at any moment someone was going to figure out who he was and blow his cover. 

He'd gotten pretty good at hiding mind you, he'd been doing it since he was roughly eighteen years old, so he'd learned a few tricks to keep people kind of at bay when he really didn't want them around, or want to be noticed.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and shot Jessie the third text of the morning.

"Where the fuck are you?! I've been waiting for you for over an hour!"

Sitting the phone back down on the counter he waited for her reply, but no response. There were even more people filtering in and out of the coffee shop now, she must not be coming. It's probably for the best if he just leaves, and gets her to meet him somewhere else later. The longer he sat there, the longer he ran the risk of someone he knew walking in, or some fan figuring out who he was.

He’d just shoved the phone back down deep in his front pocket and was about to pick up his coffee and head towards the door when the shrill ding announcing someone’s entrance into the little shop made him look up, finally she was here.

Jensen watched her as she made her approach with a cold, dead look he usually reserved for his ex-wife. She looked at him completely unfazed by his sour temper as she made her way closer, and flopped down at the little table across from him. 

“What took you so fucking long?" Jensen almost snarled. 

"Fuck you asshole, I can walk out of her right now, and without me, you have zero chance with Y/N again? So what's your choice? You can either start treating me with some respect, or you can figure out how to get her to talk to your sorry ass all by yourself? Dealer's choice." she said coldly, looking at him like he was the most disgusting thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Fine, fine!" Jensen said, throwing his hands up in frustration and then glaring at her like if he could get away with it, and she wasn't a girl, he'd probably punch her in the face.

Another few moments or so silence passed with the two of them glaring at each other while Jensen's blood pressure simmered back down to a normal rate before he dared to speak again. 

"So, have you talked her into going out again?" Jensen said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

"No." 

"Well, then why the fuck did you say you wanted to talk to me! If you don't have information for me on where she's going to be then you're not...."

"Jensen!" 

"Ssshhhh!! Someone will recognize me!!" 

"Ugh!! I'll be so glad when the two of you kiss and makeup so I don't have to look at you anymore!"

"Feelings mutual, sweetheart!"

About that time Jessie's phone started to ring, effectively ending the argument between them. Looking down she saw it was Sherry and quickly silenced it. Jessie was already late for work, and if she kept this up she was going to get fired, and also caught in the middle of this drama, which is exactly what she had told Jensen she didn’t want to happen when he’d messaged her, asking for her help in fixing his fuck up.

"Look, let's just get this over with, I don't want people to know I'm still in Dallas, they'll start to ask questions," Jensen said with a huff of frustration, sinking lower into the booth seat.

"Fine, Y/n will not leave her apartment again, not with us or with anyone else. She's been locked in her apartment since the night we dropped her off when we left the bar, she's been working from home, she hasn't left the house at all. It's almost like she's slipped into some sort of depression. I don't think we're going to get her to go out with us again, so we might have to take a different approach." Jessie said, staring coldly at that man sitting across from her.

"Okay, then what do you suggest we do? " Jensen said, taking his hat off and carding his hands through his soft hair in frustration before putting the cap back in place harshly.  

Your POV:

It had been three weeks since you saw Jensen at the bar that night. It had set you back worse than you thought it ever could. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his face. You'd even been dreaming of him more than you had in the last three years. It wasn't healthy to say the least, and you were seriously starting to wonder if you had just dreamed it up, and had that nervous breakdown your therapist had warned you about.

All the progress you had made over the years in getting over him had seemed to spiral, and it had taken you three days to even get out of the bed once you stumbled through the apartment door. 

There was no doubt in your mind that after all these years you were still in love with this man, even though you were sure he'd ever loved you. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Over and over again you kicked yourself over the past three weeks for not accepting his offer to just talk. That damn ring when you saw it on his hand was like being nailed in the gut, by a ball pin hammer, just as hard as he could swing it.

He'd been able to do what you couldn't. He'd been able to move on, he'd been able to find love, and here you were alone. 

You hated him, but you loved him. To you that made no sense whatsoever, but there it was. 

You hated him for abandoning you all those years ago, you hated him for pushing you away, when all you'd ever done was love him, you hated him for giving up on you.

You loved him because it was something you just couldn't control. The way he smiled, those beautiful jade-colored eyes that always seemed to dance with an air of mischief that made your knees weak. You could still remember his scent, the way his strong arms felt when they wrapped around you all those years ago. You loved him because just with one smile he made your heart feel like it could leap out of your chest and fly around the room, you loved him, and for a lot of reasons, you didn't even know why still you did.

There were no denying things had changed in him. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see that boy you fell in love with in Dallas was long gone, and a man had taken his place. The deep lines around his eyes, the way he carried himself, strong, confident. His voice was much deeper than it was back then, and even though his eyes were the same, the grey in his beard told you the boy he was back then was long gone, and really, you were in love with someone you didn’t even know anymore. He was a far cry from the boy that had taken your virginity all those years ago. 

He’d lived, and you hadn’t, simple as that.

He chose money, fame, and fortune over you. You would have given him everything, a family, a warm home to come home to. 

Then again, you guessed he'd found someone to do that for him, so again that rendered you useless.

Supernatural had been playing on your TV through Netflix for days. You just couldn’t stop watching it, and you couldn't stop kicking yourself. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and more than anything, you couldn't fill the hole that was in your chest, one that had almost closed, and was just a piece of you that was missing, now was ripped open and bleeding, and there was no way to make it go away.

Thank God your job allowed you to work from home. You just could do it. You couldn't deal with people, not in person, you couldn't go pretty yourself up and act like everything was fine, because it wasn't fine, and you didn't feel pretty. 

You weren't pretty enough for Jensen all those years ago, and you're not enough for him now, so why even try?

A loud knock on the door disturbed you from your self-loathing.

It was probably Sherry or Jessie. They were just worried about you, you know that, but you just hadn't been able to face them. The way you just completely broke down in the Uber on the way home was just embarrassing, and the fact that you couldn’t seem to pick yourself back up again was borderline humiliating on a whole different level.

Now apparently they'd given up on calling you and had just decided to show up. Well, you were a little impressed it had taken them this long actually.

"Go away! I don't feel like talking yet." 

Nothing, just another pounding knock on the door in response.

After sitting there a moment in confusion, you remembered Sherry knew where the spare key was, so it couldn’t be them. Getting up slowly you made your way to the door, pulling it open you looked through the crack and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass.

"JENSEN!" you half yell, shocked to see that beautiful face on the other side of the door, and for just a moment you thought you were hallucinating. 

"Hey, can I come in or you just going to make me stand out in the hallway?" he said, looking around like he was afraid you were going to slam the door shut in his face. 

To be completely honest you thought about it, you just couldn't deal with the guilt and the “what ifs” this time if you did like you'd been dealing with for the past three weeks.

Pulling the door shut just enough to remove the chain lock that was placed on the door you open it, stepping back and letting him into your apartment. 

When you shut and relocked the door you turned around to find him staring at you, a look of concern painted over his God-like face as his eyes raked over you.

You walk around him and head for the TV, turning it off before he could see himself walking with a flashlight across the screen.

"What are you doing here Jensen?" you ask him, sitting down on the couch to keep your legs from falling out from under you. You didn't realize how weak he still made you, even after all these years.

"I wanted to see you, to talk to you." 

"Why? You said all you had to say to me 21 years ago." you watched as he visibly flinched at your sharp words. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I was young and stupid, I should have never let you go, I should have never let you walk away from me, I've regretted it since you have. I just haven't been man enough to tell you..." 

Standing up you cross the floor and get right in his face. A boldness you didn't have just five minutes ago springing out of nowhere, and anger burns deep, deep down in your belly. 

"Don’t come at me with your lies Jensen!” you scream at him. 

Bringing your hand up you slap him hard across the face before you could stop yourself. Not able to even control your own actions anymore, all you could see was red.

Your own pulse quickened in your ears as your slap staggered him back against the bar, and his hand flew up to the side of his face that was quickly turning red. You didn’t care, at that moment you didn’t even see it, all you could see was years, and years of hurt, and rejection.

“You’ve suffered so much huh?! With your perfect little wife, and kids that live in a fucking mansion on the lake in Austin! You really just expect to walk back into my life, say your sorry, and all the years of hurt would just magically go away? Fuck you!

You raised your hand to slap him again, but this time he caught it with his left hand, standing to tower over you he backed you against the wall, pinning you there with his solid form, using his sheer size and body weight to hold you there and keep you from hitting him again.

Through all the anger, through all the hurt, through the blinding tears that were now rolling down your face, there were two things you registered. First was the overwhelming feeling of his body weight pressing you, grounding you, and by some miracle, pulling you back down from your fit of rage his apology had triggered. 

The second and most important thing was that his wedding band was gone.

All your strength at that moment was gone.  The adrenaline crash hit you hard, and your knees buckled, a loud ringing taking the place of your pounding pulse in your ears, and your vision going white at the edges.

Jensen reached down and scooped you up into his arms before you could hit the floor, pulling you tight to his chest and bringing you over to the couch. Sitting down this you wrapped his arms, cradled in his lap like a small child. 

It was hard to breathe as the tears flowed down your face now, your chest felt so tight that you were almost certain you were breathing through a straw, even though your breath was coming in pants, the overwhelming feeling of passing out made your head spin, and your body began to shake.

Jensen shushed you over and over again, running his fingers through your hair, which gave you something else to focus on. “Breath for me Y/n, come one breathe with me.” 

You focused on the steady rise, and fall of his chest against you, the scent of his cologne, the steady brush of his hand through your hair, and before long you were able to focus enough to take a breath.

“That’s it, baby girl, fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart, this is all my fault.” 

This was a result of twenty-one years of hurt, hurt that he caused, and he knew it.

When you'd finally calmed down he put a finger under your chin and forced you to look up at him.

"I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry that I did this to you, I'm sorry that I was a fucking coward, I was afraid to find you, afraid to admit I was wrong, I'm sorry it took me twenty-one years to get enough balls to apologize to you. I know that’s enough, but I plan to stick around and do everything I can to make this up to you. I'm not married anymore. I didn't love her, I tried to, I really did, but I just couldn't, So I did the right thing, and I let her go so she could go and find someone that can make her happy."

You sat there staring at him like he'd popped out a third head. You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming, or if you were dead. 

"So I came here to find you, the one person that has ever really made me happy. Your parents wouldn't tell me where you were, so I found your friend Jessie, she was going to get you to come to the bar that night so I could try and talk to you. I'm sorry about that too. I didn't know I'd hurt you this way. If I did I wouldn't have sprung myself on you." 

Crawling off of his lap and sitting down on the couch next to him you tried to make sense of what he was telling you.

"So what do you want from me? After all these years, what do you want from me now?"

You tried to understand, but you just couldn’t. Hell if you weren’t good enough all those years ago to make him want you, why the hell did he think you would be enough now?

Moving to the floor, Jensen got down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands in his. He looked like it took all the strength he had not to start crying himself, which only made more tears flow from you as you watched him bite down on his lower lips for a moment before he spoke.

"I want a second chance with you, I know I have no right to ask you for one, and you have every right to tell me to fuck off, and if you do I'll leave, and I'll never come back If that's really what you want, but sweetheart please, please give me a chance to fix this. Let me fix what I broke all those years ago." 

His thumb made little circles on the back of your hand, and he broke eye contact with you, looking down at the floor as he waiting for you to tell him to go fuck himself.

All those years you'd prayed he'd come back. All those years you'd dreamed he wanted you again. Here he was, and if you didn't give him another chance now, he was gone for good, and that would be all, you'd die right here, you'd never be able to recover.

Jensen took a shaky breath drawing you back to the present. 

"Please Y/N, say something?" 

Putting your hands on either side of his face you did the only thing your brain would let you do. You pulled him to you, crashing your lips to his. 

At first, he sat there shocked, but he caught up quickly though. Getting off his knees he crawled his large frame over yours, laying you both back down on the couch you were sitting on, holding his weight on you just enough to make you feel safe, for the first time in a long time.

"So I guess that means yes???" he said, lifting a perfect eyebrow and looking at you with the cutest little expression on his face, his eye crinkles showing just enough to make your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you got a shit ton of makeup to do Ackles," you tell him through tears, smacking him on his solid chest playfully.

"Well darlin’, let me start now," he said, bringing his lips softly back to yours before standing and dragging you with him, pulling you towards the open door of your bedroom.

Your mind worked on autopilot as he backed you into the room, closing the door with his large foot, and like jolts of electricity being shocked to a still heart, every lingering touch of his hands trailing your body, and every passionate kiss that made you breathless seemed to wake you up again. 

This wasn’t some quickie in the back of his truck in the middle of the wood. There was no rush to this, there was no hurry in the way he lowered your body on the bed, and crawled his way over every inch of skin, leaving a trail of kisses he went. 

There was no uncertainty in the way he looked into your eye as he pressed himself slowly into you, rocking slow and deep, stretching you, in the most intimate way possible, breathing life back into you as his lips found yours again in a slow lazy kiss, as he continued to work you both higher in an almost painfully slow pace. 

This wasn’t going to fix it all together, twenty-one years was a lot of time, and there was a lot of damage, to the both of you, but the way his body moved inside of yours, the promise that he made not only with his words, but with his body, and with his soul that he’d never leave you, never hurt you again, it brought you back in a way that you thought was long dead to you. 

When your release came, and he held you close to him, your name falling from his lips as he spilled himself deep inside of you, you felt like your heart really started to beat for the first time. 

There were still a lot of unanswered questions, and there were some things you just never wanted to know. Right now as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around, and caging your body close to him, promising to never let you go again would be enough. 

Not everyone gets the second chance the two of you were having now, and this time you would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took, because he was the other half of your heart, and it just didn’t beat if he wasn’t there.

Jessie's POV:

“I can’t believe you sent him here!” Sherry hissed as Jessie dug around for the spare key to your apartment. 

It had been hours since she had sent Jensen here to try and talk to you, and they had heard nothing. Then when Jessie let it slip on her lunch break what had been going on with Jensen and herself over the past couple of weeks, Sherry had blown her top, and insisted on coming to check on them.

“Would you shut up! I’m sure they’re fine!” Jessie hissed back, finding the key and turning the knob slowly. 

The apartment was quiet as the two women pushed the door open, and closed it silently behind them. 

“If he’s done something to hurt her I swear to God!” Sherry hissed again, making her way over to where Jessie was standing by the bar, staring through a crack in Y/N’s bedroom door.

She pointed towards it, and Sherry silently made her way to peek inside, seeing Jensen and Y/N curled into one another sound asleep, clothes strewn all over the floor, and long forgotten. Sherry smiled to herself as he turned around and looked back at Jessie, who was leaning against the bar, grinning like she’d won the war, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here, I think those two are gonna be just fine.” She said, leading Sherry towards the door, and closing the door to the apparent behind them. Leaving the world outside unknowing, while two hearts did what it took to heal.

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Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

[just-mirko]

BINARY  

BNHA HACKER AU - CHAPTER 5

MASTERLIST

Mirko x F!Reader

Warnings: i got carried away. umm a little blood. a little fighting. 

WC: 2.2k

(A/N: this one is dedicated to @sushi044123 thank you for the little message, things like that always make me wanna write more <3)

__

I went to sleep quickly. I woke up early. I slept well. The next day started fine. I made coffee and pondered over the empty desk once more. I was ignorant.

__

             I would have never suspected any change when I stepped out into the halls and began walking to class. While on my way there, I met with Mirko, who was wearing casual yoga pants and a loose tank top. Along with that was a black bomber jacket that adorned her shoulders Her long, flawless platinum hair was pulled into a long brain. Even when put up, her hair reached her waist.

             The hood of the jacket was once again, over her head, and… once again… seemed to be hiding something. Eh never mind maybe shes a catgirl. You can never really judge.

             Soon every student had congregated in the classroom. It was a stark contrast to the nice elegant theme of the main room. Instead, we were in the penthouse at the top of the large building we entered on the first day. The elegant and crisp post-sunrise glow filled the room which was almost fully surrounded glass windows. Maybe only four other skyscrapers challenged the height of the one we were in.

             I walked up to one of the windows, noticing a slight mature difference as the glass was icy cold and on the other side, was covered in a thin layer of mist. Even as someone who isn't afraid of heights, looking down at the world below which was engulfed in a thin layer of grey fog, overcame me with fear. To think that this thin layer of glass would protect me from the bustling world below.

             How strange. We were hidden from society. The outcasts who preferred to be anonymous robin hoods than gaudy and fake heroes. But with 3 of the four walls in this room window, I felt as though I was on display to the whole world. A steel pedestal specially made for all of us.

             After admiring the view, I stole a glance at Mirko. Unlike me, she didn't look at the ground below, but above, up to the clouds which we so very close. They never looked that large from the city floor.

             “Students! You’re finally here!” A chipper and high squeaky voice alerted me. My footsteps were short as I stepped back from the side of the room. The students turned to the short little mouse. Small groups had formed, mostly of 2-3 people awkwardly standing next to each other from a partial distance…

              for that one wooden guy and the blonde. They were standing pretty close-

             “You can all remove your masks now! They were a temporary thing, now that new have completely erased all traces of who you were previous to this school, you are perfectly safe from outsides and other students. As far as the world knows, you currently don't exist.”

             His sweet attitude didn’t deter me from the almost translucent threat in his voice. Hesitantly, people began to take them off and reveal their faces. After about half the classroom had removed theirs, I undid the ribbon that held it to my head and let it fall into my hand. A tingle of cool metal spread on my skin. I placed it on the ground next to my feet and glanced up at my peers.

             Most fit what I expected, they were still strangers, but now I had a chance at remembering them.

             A rush of embarrassment coursed up into my brain when I took the liberty to Look up at Mirko, I traced my gaze over her face and her perfect features while she took me in as well. Our eyes met for a second too long while I drowned in a crimson abyss. My cheeks almost flushed the same shade as her eyes. I turned away and heard her quietly chuckle:

             “cute”

             Now I was red.

             “Now that we have had time to familiarize ourselves to the minimum, I would also like to say the same for quirks!”

             Mirko’s flashed a wide grin, canines showing.

             “You are all now safe to show quirks, as that has also been cleaned from reality.”

             In my peripheral vision was a quick flash of dirty blonde. When I glanced over, Hawks turned his head away, a distant look. I didn’t look away though, and if he was as smart as he acted, he noticed. The daggers I was shooting from my eyes aimed at the briefcase in his hand.

             “So, my little criminal prodigies, though many of you are already masters in your main craft, we want to reach past those horizons-”

             He cleared his throat and redirected my attention to his short stature. With a sigh he continued;

             “Those horizons being combat, tactical, hardware engineering, and friendship! Within the combat course, we will be going over-” I felt a short soft tap on my shoulder. It was Mirko.

             “in tactical we want to utilize your current stren-”

             “Hey, pssst”

             She whispered, but when I turned to her she was still looking ahead to Nezu. Ruby eyes glowing in the ethereal morning light.

             “engineering will be taught for obvious rea-”

             Her hand brushed across mine and my heartbeat quickly spiked. The ghost of her touch remained on the back of my wrist even when she moved. Mirko’s gaze was still stagnant, but in a hushed tone she quietly mumbled,

             “This was in your jacket’s hood”

             Her knuckles bumped into mine once more, though they were more demanding, silently telling me to open my hand. There was a moment of confusion when something extremely soft was placed in my hand. It was light, and there was no weight to it. Soft and light. Closing my fingers around it, I brought it up and looked at it while I was cupped in my grasp.

             A single red feather and a tiny one as that sat in my palm; soft and warm. Hawks. Whatever emotion I was feeling numb all my other senses. Was it fear? Anger? A little confusion. There was some kind of shuffling around me that was dulled by my thoughts. Nezu probably gave the class some kind of directions, as they were talking among themselves. In short sentences and simple words. Surface level stuff.

             Across the classroom, Hawks moved to chat with a tall guy with white hair that fell over his shoulders. He seemed knowingly more anxious now. His hand was fidgeting at his side. He knew I had the feather, but he wasn’t looking at me? Could he feel through them? It would make sense, seeing as he could control them at will.

             Turning the feather in my hand I saw him physically tense up a little bit. Brushing the vane (the soft part of a feather) with one of my fingers, his hand stilled, his actions were choppy as he laughed with the other guy. Oh, he knew what I was doing. I dropped it to the ground and turned to Mirko, a little smile on my face, she had one too. I was about to talk about the feather with her when she shot me a knowing look and a curt shake of her head.

             “What are we doing again?” I sheepishly asked, having zoned out the whole assembly.

             “Pairing up for combat assessments, you're with me.” She playfully nudged my shoulder when I groaned, annoyed.

             When I looked down at my shoes distraughtly I could see the little feather blowing softly away from me in Hawk’s direction. For good measure I stepped on it and crushed it beneath my feet, relishing in the wince I could see him make as he as stretching for warm-ups.

             Mirko at the least seemed amused at what I was doing with Hawks but still wanted to begin training. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

             “So basically, we get five minutes to spar with any technique we want, no biting, clawing, hair pulling, dirty plays- and then we fight there.”

             She motioned over her shoulder to black mats in the center of the room. The borderline feral look in her eyes makes me feel way to arou-scared to fight her. (Woah there Clarissa this is a family-friendly account).

             “Wait are you s-serious? Fight each other?” I stumbled out. She was a foot taller than me and more fit.

             “Aww c’mon, I’ll go easy on you, whoever is immobile first wins?”

             “I guess.”

             ‘You can do this (y/n)’ I had to say to myself, though it wasn’t that convincing. I've done kickboxing before, so I readied myself into a prep stance. My legs were a little farther apart than my shoulders, and my hands were loose fists in front of my torse. I instinctively bent my knees and began swaying a little to prepare. I wasn’t going to throw the first fight.

             Mirko was turned around, removing her jacket to reveal toned arms that flexed as she placed it on the ground. I gulped.

             “Are you ready Bunny?” She inquired, calmly, even relaxed.

             “Whenever you are” I replied with confidence. I can do this.

             Her hand reached up to the beanie that was sat atop her head. Before touching it though she looked over her shoulder to stare me down. ��Are quirks on the table?”

             This was a variable I hadn’t expected, but I wasn’t going to let that phase me.

             “Bet.” I softly smiled and she aggressively smirked.

             “Okay Bunny,” She paused, turning towards me and throwing the hat to the ground,

             “Lets fight”

             Ears sprang up from her perfect hair and she lunged at me with incredible power, her leg aimed right towards my torso. I was shocked by the ears. A rabbit quirk? I didn’t have time to think when she landed a solid kick on the side of my hip.

             Ouch

             Her style of fighting was low and she probably intended to wipe me out, so I would have to aim for her upper body to counter.

             “Oh shiiii-” I quickly dodged to the left, using my arm to block her leg and push it the other direction.

             I tried to get closer and close the gap as she seemed like a mid-distance fighter. Ducking under her swinging leg that was in a circular high kick I tried knocking her to the ground with a punch to her shoulder, that should send her off balance, but she caught my hand and kicked out the back of my legs. My knees hit the floor and I was temporarily stunned. I recovered with a quick little roll the hopped up.

             I faked out a right hook and grabbed her blocking arm, and attempted to get her in a headlock. She was ahead of me though. Once I tried to wrap my arm about her neck-

             A firm grasp settled on my wrist and pried back my hand at an excruciatingly painful angle. I hissed through my teeth and let go, holding my hand which was sharply stinging with pain. A little bit harder and I would have tapped out and forfeited the match.

              Just as I looked back up to attempt to cut my losses and aim for her head, she was running towards me. My legs were thrown out from beneath me and the breath was knocked out of my lungs, making breathing difficult. She sat on my stomach, effectively weighing me down, I couldn't get up anymore. I blindly swung a punch, hoping it would hit something that would give me leverage.

             My fist connected with her upper lip. She didn’t budge from above me though, in fact, she pressed down harder as she sat on my stomach. Each breathe getting more and more labored.

              She pinned me to the ground, one hand holding my arms above me, the other reaching up towards her lip. Red came back on her fingers.

             “Fuck (y/n) that hurt like a bitch.”

             Her grip on my hands tightened to a bruising hold that pushed my wrists together and dug them into the sparring mat. The previous sprain I suffered roared by to life and a groan resonated in my chest. That drew a dry laugh from her, obviously it was painful though. Her hand slammed next to my head, lowering herself a little closer to me. We were both tired and panting. My entire back was throbbing from being so aggressively pushed to the ground.

             She gazed at my face with indistinguishable emotion. Her teeth were barred in a mix between a grimace and a smile. The blood that was smeared beneath her mouth where I had injured her; the red blood matched her wild eyes.

“I win,” She said quietly...

[deepslateemeraldore]

goin’ crazy from the moment i met you

for the @itfandomprompts gift exchange! this is my gift for @a-portable-snack who requested “ (college Au) Losers go to karaoke and Richie sings Untouched by the Veronicas to Eddie drunkenly and Reddie Chaos ensues “! hope you enjoy this!!!

   - 4k words   - Mentions of weed and alcohol   - Mentions of Bill’s past relationship   - Talks of crushes

  Sleepy college towns are never really thought of as anything other than that. They’re small, oftentimes quiet communities, with bands of young adults trying to find their places in the grand scheme of things. There’s heartbreak, love, loss, and on occasion, loud drunken nights singing karaoke obnoxiously and proudly in the shitty little dive bars that offered such sad excuses for attention. Who in their right mind would find such an embarrassing pastime enjoyable?  

   The answer: Eddie Kaspbrak. A rising star in the world of local track and field, and often found running wild with his band of misfits on the weekends (though, to him, the fact that they were misfits is what made their bond so strong). He couldn’t help the image that the town had put together about him, trotting at the heels of the other town losers; Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, and last but not least, Richard Tozier (though, calling him anything besides “Richie” was bound to get you an earful unless you were his mother). 

 If only the judging eyes could see Eddie, laughing himself sick amongst said friends, singing songs that hadn’t been popular since his elementary school years. They’d take turns picking their most hated songs to sing at each other while the recipient of that round would make sour faces at the offender (but secretly, they wouldn’t be upset. They’d think it was the most hilarious thing, only to be replaced by the following week's act of tomfoolery and embarrassment).

 In fact, karaoke had become a sort of group therapy for the clan of friends. It fell into routine after everyone’s first year at college ended with Richie using his newly acquired fake ID to load up the back of Bev’s car with enough beer to last a whole winter. The three drank at Bill’s until their knees went numb, and ended up wandering around downtown for a bit, stumbling into a shitty dive when the need for greasy food set in. By mistake, Bev signed up for karaoke, and the rest is history. Ben came the next time with Mike, who invited Stanley who invited Eddie. The latter of the two had stood solid on their stance of karaoke being dumb and childish until they’d decided to duet to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” in homage to changing majors. Eddie had never felt more alive than in that moment. 

 Over time, the song selection had grown from moody teenage anthems to half-time show routines, before settling comfortably in a genre appealing to only the chaotically single and nostalgically lonely. That’s not to say they were sad songs, oftentimes they were very fun and upbeat songs, but lyrically they could bring a drunk Bill Denbrough to his knees (though that was a very easy task that only required a small amount of hard liquor). 

 However, one particular night at the Bleu Jay will forever have a choke hold on Eddie Kaspbrak’s tender heart. 

 It was an average Saturday in late March, and he and Bev had spent the morning at various craft stores hunting for diploma frames. Bev had graduated the past winter with a BA in Textile and Apparel Studies, immediately accepting an offer to work with the Penobscot Theatre (along with several other theatres in Maine). She became impassioned for the art made by local seamstresses, and it was clear the feeling was mutual as soon as she joined the team. 

 Eddie would be graduating at the end of that spring with a Bachelors in Statistics (although it was assumed he would enroll in a new program for Anatomy and Biology the coming fall), becoming the fourth of his friend group to get his degree. And he was proud of himself, little “Wheezie” Kaspbrak, coddled by his mother until he could break free, going to college against family wishes and proving that he had more to him than what was publicly thought. And it was exhilarating in the same vein, existing outside of his mother's (womb) house. 

 And, as almost every Saturday since becoming legal went, they set out to celebrate with drinks. And karaoke. 

 Mike and Stan arrived first, Bill, Ben, and Richie next, and lastly, Bev and Eddie. The agreed upon meeting time was always seven thirty, and like every Saturday, Bev and Eddie were late. 

 “Man, you guys are s-s-so late,” Bill slurred, sitting shotgun in Ben’s car with the door propped open. Bev hadn’t even put the car park by the time the smell of shitty weed had made itself known. Bev giggled as she opened her door, shooting Eddie a look as if to say “this should be hilarious.” Eddie followed Bev’s lead, opening the door of the ‘99 Camry, careful not to slam the door too hard, and checking that the mirror had not fallen off (again. It was a junk car, but it ran like a dream, Bev would say). 

 “I already sm-smoked all Richie’s weed, Bev.” Bill followed up. Eddie took one solid look at his friend and let out his own little laugh. Mike led everyone from the parking lot into the bar, and after having their IDs checked (they came weekly, at this point you’d think the poor old bouncer wouldn’t care) they made way to their table. It was the only horseshoe booth in the place, furthest away from the bar counter, and the best place to be loud without getting any funny looks from other patrons. They were also the largest group to ever set foot in the dive.

 Mike would always sit in the middle, Stan and Bill on either side of him, Ben then Bev sitting to Stan’s left, Richie then Eddie to Bill’s right. Just like always. Stan ordered the first round of drinks, making sure to order Bill’s Bloody Mary with more tomato juice and less vodka (the conversation outside the bar between he and Richie about Bill being a “One Hit Wonder” went right over the accused’s head, making for a good laugh all around) and Eddie’s Appletini sans garnish. Bev chimed in to ask for a basket of fries, making Stan’s eyes shine bright. 

 “I knew there was a reason we’ve kept you around, Marsh.” He teased, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Ben smiled at the interaction, happy to see the most tense member of their group relaxing so soon into the evening. As soon as the waiter stepped away, small talk grew into a medium rumble, and talk about classes and grad school and professors everyone hated began to snowball. It only got worse as drinks made their way around.

 “I thought Richie said Short was a good head for the theatre department?” Mike asked Bev softly. Before Bev could respond, Richie had butted in. 

 “No, Mikey, I said Short gives good head to the theatre department,” Was Richie’s reply as he knocked back a shot of Jameson and winced. “Everyone loves a good gum job from-“

 “Beep Beep, Richie.” That was Eddie, exasperated having to hear about the old guy for what felt like the hundredth time. Richie turned to his friend, mock hurt, and scoffed. 

 “But Ed’s, you love to hear about me getting all the foxy grandpas and-“ Eddie’s cheeks flushed pink. 

 “I said beep beep, Dick. Shut up.” Richie stared at Eddie meekly as Eddie turned back to the group and picked up his martini. Without missing a beat, he spoke to Bill. 

 “So, are you and Audra on speaking terms now?” The table sat quiet as Eddie spoke, partially because the tone he’d just used was borderline frightening, but also because Richie had never shut up that quickly before. Bev would have to commend him on it later. Bill cleared his throat. 

 “We t-t-talked about it on Wednesday. I went to s-see her after her shift and all was f-fine. She said she’d rather see me h-happy with a guy than mi-miserable with her.” He shrugged, taking a sip of the water Stan had slyly moved closer to him. Bev nodded, as did Ben, Richie, Eddie. Everyone took a drink. Richie cleared his throat.

 “I’m happy for you, man. Really. Growth and all that shit. Mazel tov or whatever.” Everyone laughed save for Stan, who groaned, sinking into the booth. 

 “So, are we tipsy enough to start singing or does the Donner Party minus Bill need another round?” Richie asked, looking around the table. He was met with stares of confusion. 

 “Why are we the Donner Party minus Bill?” Ben inquired trying to connect the dots mentally. 

 “Because Bill fell off the wagon after I let him hit BabySpice in the parking lot.”  Ben nodded, not bothering to inquire further. Bill made a noise of protest, but was too eager to make a fool of himself on the small bar stage to say otherwise. 

 And so the night began. They moved as a herd to the DJ booth, signing their names after finding a song (although, Eddie had to sign Bill’s name and song, seeing as the lightweight was a bit too fucked up to hold the pen properly. Seriously, one hit and half a Bloody Mary?), then retreating back to the booth, awaiting their names being called to the stage when it was time. They had a few more sips and laughs in between.

 Mike was called first. Mike usually went first just to ease the tension, but tonight he seemed almost a bit too excited to go first. 

 “Is it just me, or is he skipping up there?” Eddie asked Richie, leaning in and whispering while still keeping his eyes on Mike. He felt Richie lean in a little closer to him, too, making his cheeks flush pink again. 

 “I think he might have a crush on someone,” Richie motioned with his head to Bill very subtly. “But, you didn’t hear that from me.” Eddie’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as he turned to face Richie, who smirked and held a finger up to his lips. “Shhh.” Eddie let out a light chuckle, turning his attention back to Mike on stage. The song started up as Mike waved to his friends, who smiled back and began to sway to the music. 

 Eddie smiled to himself as he zoned out, thinking about what Richie has just said. Mike and Bill. Bill and Mike. It didn’t bother Eddie in the slightest, in fact, he became almost excited at the thought of them two dating. They’d always been close, and they’d always made a really good team. And if Bill thought the same way about Mike, then that’d be just dandy! But Bill did just get out of a relationship, but he also seemed happy to bring up the whole “happier with a guy” thing… who knows? Not Eddie. Not in the slightest. Eddie reached for his drink, bringing it close and sipping it throughout Mike’s song, thinking. 

 He thought about “crushes” he’s had in the past on a few girls from his childhood, then the crushes he had in middle and high school on boys, and the crush that he’s had on the same boy since high school. He felt his neck grow hot and downed the last few sips of his martini. Mike’s song ended and they all cheered, although Eddie wouldn’t have been able to tell you what song he’d even sang. The waiter came by their table as Mike came back, earning a pat on the back from Ben (who was up next) and a thumbs up from Bill who appeared to be… blushing? God, if Bill was blushing then I must look like a damn lobster, Eddie thought, then turned to the waiter and asked for a Long Island Iced Tea, sub the rum for extra tequila. 

 The waiter was back within the first minute of Ben’s song, prompting Eddie to waste no time sucking his drink down. His first sip took a bit more than a third of the glass and burned only slightly on its way down. He took another big sip, the glass now just below halfway, which earned a sneering chuckle from Richie, lightly sipping his fourth Jack & Coke.

 “You got a hot date or s’mthin?” Richie asked, almost a little too close to Eddie’s ear.

Now I probably look like a ripe fucking beet, just peachy. Eddie blinked, turned his head to look at Stan and jeered back:

 “Yes, actually. Stanley and I were talking about bringing a himbo or two back to the condo. Why, you think you qualify?” It was Eddie’s turn to smirk, and the blank look on Richie’s face counted as a victory in his book. Eddie focused his attention back to Ben on stage, clapping for his friend as the song finished, hoping his blush was subtle. Richie sat completely still.

 Bev went after Ben, planting a kiss on his cheek as they walked past each other. Bev sang “Baby Got Back”, much to the surprise of everyone other than Eddie (they’d discussed these important matters on the drive). Bill went after Bev, Richie after Bill (although in everyone’s mind, the “Tequila” song did not count, which earned him a do-over for after Stan went), Eddie after Richie (Eddie was also razzed for choosing “Sweet Caroline” due to its extremely popular nature with the drunk crowd), and Stan following last. Eddie had enjoyed Stan’s song, “SexyBack” but only because once Stan was nearing drunk, he would go all out with his dance moves, getting the entire bar (really, the only 5 others in the bar besides the losers) to clap with him. It was fun! It was all fun! 

 Until Richie got up to perform his do-over song. Eddie had gotten up to let him out of the booth, but the way Richie’s normally swinging gait sagged was cause for concern in Eddie’s inebriated mind. Bill, now far too “drunk” from a grand total of three and a half shots worth of alcohol, was whooping and hollering as Richie talked to the DJ. Eddie was prepared, as was the rest of the table, for Richie to choose something to get off easy, something in the family of “Rolling in the Deep” or “Jolene”, with Stan bidding on “Hand in my Pocket” because “it’s just a karaoke classic!”. 

 The conversation roaring around the table while Richie and the DJ looked for some song that wasn’t coming up in the catalog turned to making fun of Bill, who had claimed his “high was wearing off” and that he had “never been this brunk defore”, earning a hearty laugh from the six. Stan and Eddie worked to prop Bill up so he was at least not head first on the table. In fact, they would’ve all missed Richie starting if it hadn’t been for the tapping on the microphone, followed by:

 “Hello, I am slightly tipsy and extremely sorry for what you are all about to see.” Violins came from the speakers surrounding the stage, and when Eddie looked at the screen behind Richie’s head, the panic set in, surrounding the bar in the sounds of 2000’s pop. 

 Richie began to dance, albeit very poorly, to “Untouched” by The Veronicas. He was a little drunk. Eddie was a little drunk. A man sitting at a booth near the DJ was clapping and cheering, and also probably a little drunk. The losers were clapping and cheering. Eddie felt like he was inside an ice cube, and also like he was going to pass out. 

 “I go ooh ooh, you go aah aah,

Lalalala, lalalala,” Richie began to sing, his voice reaching somewhere between a valley girl and a horrible Britney Spears impression. 

“I wanna wanna wanna get get get what I want, don’t stop,” Richie sang to the man in the booth, who hadn’t stopped clapping. It occurred to Eddie in that moment that Richie couldn’t be drunk. Drunk Richie was funny, aloof, extra clumsy, and could barely mutter out a proper sentence. No amount of alcohol would make him do this.

 Eddie tore his eyes away from his friend on stage, intensely studying the remaining ice in his glass. He tried to bring a hand up to fiddle with the straw, to keep himself distracted, but the way his hand shook was going to give away everything he was trying to keep in. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look UP. If he thought about it hard enough, Eddie supposed he could have made himself throw up from the amount of sudden stress (which was code for Gay Panic) building in his abdomen. He could faintly hear Bev and Bill cheering, and out of the corner of his eye caught Stan standing up in the booth to join in the support of his friend. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. 

  “Cause you’re the only one who’s on my mind, I’ll never ever let you leave, I’ll try to stop time forever, never wanna hear you say goodbye,” jerked Eddie back to reality, but only because he could feel his worst fear currently coming true. 

 Richie had stepped off the stage, and Eddie had looked over at him just as he had made his way through the small crowd of the bar (and as far as the mic cord would allow). Eddie could feel the eyes shift to him, and was certain that if you hooked him up to an EKG, he would be legally pronounced dead. 

 “I feel so untouched and I want you so much, that I just can’t resist you,” Eddie could tell by the look in his eyes, Richie was determined about something. 

 “It’s not enough to say that I miss you,” maybe this was directed at Bill, because Richie had a crush on him once upon a time. 

 “I feel so untouched right now, need you so much somehow, I can’t forget you,” or maybe this was directed at the guy, sitting alone by the DJ who hasn’t stopped clapping. Maybe Richie was being dramatic, building tension. 

 “Goin crazy from the moment I met you.” It was the direct eye contact Eddie had accidentally made with Richie that kick started his heart. This was directed at him holy shit. 

 “And I need you so much,” Eddie could hear Bev yelling for him to get up, he could feel Stan trying to shove him out of the booth, to go up there right fucking now because this is your one fucking chance. And like some miserable, absolute asinine fool, Eddie stood up, betraying every nerve in his body. He couldn’t hear Richie singing anymore, he could hear anyone in the bar clapping or hollering, hell he could barely even make out Richie’s face as he walked towards him. He watched his lips move, god I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more than right now, tip toeing, trying to keep his balance, trying to make it to Richie before someone else takes the opportunity. 

 There were only a handful of times where Eddie Kaspbrak had felt completely in charge of his situation. The most notable being the day the town bullies broke his arm, and instead of letting them win, he got up and laughed in their faces, sending them running for the hills. However, that was about to be bumped down.

 Without breaking the eye contact, without breaking the cadence of his walk, Eddie Kaspbrak reached out to grab Richie Tozier, his crush, his damned high school through today crush, by the collar of his unbuttoned flannel, god it’s so soft, causing Richie to drop the microphone just as Eddie pulled him down to kiss him. Edward Kaspbrak was kissing Richard Tozier right now in the shitty karaoke bar in fucking Bangor, Maine. And it. Felt. So. Right. 

 It was like all was suddenly right in the world, the planets had aligned, and Santa Claus himself has just had delivered the best fucking gift to the both of them. Eddie felt Richie’s hands grab at his cheeks, then fly around his shoulders, trying to get closer, both of them numb to the fact that they we’re making out in front of their friends and a handful of strangers in a shitty dive bar! Who FUCKING knew?!?

 Eddie pulled away first, partly because of shock, partly because he wanted to open his damn eyes and look at this, commit it to memory. Everything around him became more clear. Bev and Stan screeching, the rest of the losers whistling, and a few of the random patrons subjected to this very odd-and-overtly-sexual non-verbal confession of love. Of love. Richie let the microphone fall to the floor, feedback scratching through the speakers. 

 “This isn’t the way I thought this would happen,” Eddie chuckled, letting Richie pull him into a hug, still in the center of the bar. “But it makes too much sense because it’s you.” He felt Richie press a kiss to his hair, then drop an arm to grab one of his hands. 

 “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here, yeah?” Richie struggled to get out, his smile distracting Eddie from the fact that his hair was matted to his forehead via sweat. Eddie only nodded, leading Richie past the table of their friends (who had begun to chant “Get a room! Get a room! Get a room!”, earning a swift flick of the bird from both Richie and Eddie), out the door of the bar, giggles from both parties ringing out all the way to Richie’s car, then into Richie’s car, and finally as Richie drove away in his car. 

 The losers had gotten up one by one to follow them out, not even upset at the fact that they would have to cram into two cars now. Stan and Bev were out the door first, still wolf whistling as their (lovebird) friends drove off, Bill, Mike, and Ben at their heels. 

 “Wow, now that’s the m-miracle of lo-blargh,” everyone had turned just in time to see Bill barf up soggy French fries and an obscene amount of water. Calls of:

 “Jesus Christ,”

  “Eww, Bill,”

 “And that’s why we give you water, lightweight,” rang out in their circle, the friends taking a step back, Mike motioning for Bill to take a seat on the curb they stood on. 

 “I think that’s our cue to leave,” Bev stated.

“Ben, you wanna run in and pay the tab real quick? Take my card.” Ben nodded as Bev extended her hand with a card to him, disappearing back into the bar a final time. 

 “So, Marsh, where’s that twenty you bet me our Senior year?” Stan joked, helping Mike get Bill standing again, heading towards the cars. Bev laughed, throwing her head back. 

 “Where’s my twenty for saying Eddie was going to be the one to kiss him first?!” Bev shot back, reaching into her bag to pull out a crumpled twenty. Stan reached into his pocket, producing a folded crisp bill. They exchanged cash, laughing. 

 “This made no sense,” Bill offered coherently, stumbling closer to Mike. Stan and Bev turned to face him. 

“Why did Mike sing a Blondie song if he’s not blond?” It was Mike’s turn to throw his head back, letting out a hearty guffaw, before turning to Bill and responding. 

 “It’ll make sense someday,” Mike offered, wrapping his arm around Bill’s shoulder. Bill smiled, and shut up promptly. 

 They all sat around the parking lot for a while talking, sobering up. Bev had had a few cigarettes, sharing with Bill hoping to bring him back to earth. It was just as Mike and Bev got ready to drive off when Richie and Eddie pulled back into the parking lot, swinging between the two cars. Both were smiling messes, giggling and pink with a few new bruises on each of their necks. 

 “Just to put this out there, Eddie Kaspbrak fucks!” Richie yelled, peeling out from between his friends' cars, Eddie laughing and yelling “no! No! Shut up!” Between laughing fits, pulling back out onto the main road once more, riding off into the night. 

 “Let’s make that an extra twenty, Miss Marsh.” Stan smirked, waving at Bev shaking her head. Ben waved back as they pulled out of the lot. 

 “I should’ve thought this through more.” Bev laughed, reaching for Ben’s hand, and joining the other two cars on the road home. 

[leap-loves]

15 with Vegeta?

Self-Ship Drabble Asks!

“15. Cooking something together” 1,361 words! Might have gotten a biiiit carried away (Alt. Title: “Vegeta Tries Vanilla” )

Why does it seem like people call her when she has her hands full and isn’t able to reach her phone easily? Raine grumbled to herself, stepping off to the side of the sidewalk as she dug her phone out, holding it between her shoulder and ear as she continued to walk. 

“Raine here, what’s up?”

“Where are you??” came a familiarly pissed voice on the other side of the phone. 

“I’m walking home from the grocery store, why?”

“Why aren’t you at work?” Vegeta seemed to be getting more frustrated. 

“Because today’s one of my days off…?” She answered before quirking an eyebrow “Are you outside the shop?”

“Oh…Yeah…”

“Why? Did you need something?” She asked, a little amused by his borderline embarrassed admission. However she knew better than to tease him for it if she wants to stay on his good side. 

There was silence on the other end long enough that she was tempted to stop and make sure he hadn’t hung up. “Veg-”

“Bulma kicked me out of the house again to make me stop training.” He answered, speaking quickly enough that it took Raine a minute to process. 

Once she understood though, she chuckled softly and relaxed, adjusting the bags in her hands. “I’ll stop by the shop and you’re welcome to come back to my house with me. I’m just making some cookies, and you can take some back with you for the family.” She offered. 

Once he agreed, Raine adjusted her path to go by the shop, seeing him waiting impatiently outside with his arms crossed. “Hey Vegeta!” She called with a smile once she reached the block, lifting one arm of groceries in greeting. 

“Took you long enough…” He grumbled, pushing off from the building to face her. 

“Hey, not all of us can fly.” She retorted, sticking her tongue out at him as she led the way towards her house. 

There wasn’t too much talking between the two of them for right now, just Raine humming as she walked, occasionally adjusting the grocery bags. At least, until Vegeta got tired of hearing the bags rustling. So he reached out and took the armful of groceries that was closest to him, hardly even noticing the weight, but letting out a chuckle at the resulting squeak from Raine as she adjusted to the sudden weight shift, being snapped out of whatever train of thought she had been on. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” She assured, even trying to take the bags back. Whining when he moved the bags to the other side and out of her reach, she just puffed her cheeks out to pout for a moment before giving him a smile. “Thank you, Vegeta.”

He simply hummed in response, giving a small nod. It’s good to be appreciated. 

Thankfully for both of them, it didn’t take too long for them to reach her house finally. She unlocked the door and motioned him in, locking it behind her and taking the bags to the kitchen. “You can just make yourself comfortable and relax.” She offered, starting to put away anything that wouldn’t go into the cookies, turning on her kitchen radio to low music, humming along to it. 

Vegeta watched her for a minute before sitting down at her dining table to watch her work, crossing his arms and leaning back some in the chair. It was strange to see Raine away from the shop, since that’s still where they spent most of their time, unless he took her to Capsule Corps. Somehow, her house seemed very her though. Small, not messy but not clean either. Kept darker than Capsule Corps was, which he almost found comforting. However boredom eventually won out, and he got out of his chair to go watch her make the batter. He knew a little bit about baking, but not enough to do it himself. 

Raine noticed him come over, perking up some and figuring this meant he was up for a conversation. “Have you ever tried cookie dough before?” She asked, getting two clean spoons before he even had a chance to answer.

Vegeta didn’t even bother trying to answer, since by the time he opened his mouth, there was a spoon full of dough in his face. So instead he settled for quirking his eyebrow and taking the spoon. He stared at it for a moment, watching Raine out of the corner of his eye to see how she ate it, mimicking after. He wasn’t necessarily a sweets person, and this was certainly sweet. Not unpleasantly so though. He hummed in thought before continuing to eat it, watching her go back to stirring with her own spoon in her mouth. He watched her put some dark liquid in the dough, leaning in a bit because it smelled really nice. Familiar. “What’s that?”

Raine looked at him curiously before following his gaze, perking up. “This is vanilla extract. I’m pretty sure it just adds more flavor to the dough, makes it sweeter. And it smells wonderful.” She answered, though was very surprised when he held his now empty spoon out. “You…you want to try it?” She asked, wanting to make sure she understood. 

“What else would I be sticking this out for?” He scoffed, pushing his spoon out just a little more for emphasis. 

“If you insist.” She mumbled, pouring just a tiny bit into it and excited to see his reaction, dough momentarily forgotten. So she just watched as he put the spoon in his mouth, biting down a grin. 

Vegeta stood there for a moment as he processed, his expression gradually changing as the taste set in. His eyebrows furrowed first, followed by his nose slowly scrunching up in displeasure. He put the spoon down on the counter and went to her fridge, doing his best to be casual, and grabbed the first soda he saw to start chugging it to get the taste out of his mouth. 

Raine immediately started laughing despite knowing the pain, her laughter only growing in volume when he flipped her off, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. When he finally stopped to take a breath, he set the soda on the counter and pointed at her “Why didn’t you warn me it would taste so revolting??”

“You didn’t ask!” She retorted through her giggles, leaning against the counter to keep upright. Vegeta went over and gave her a very gentle nudge, which still made her stumble despite herself. He grumbled and went back to his seat, being pouty now. He found himself actually dozing off some once Raine’s giggle fit had passed, and they fell into quietly enjoying each other’s company, with the radio in the kitchen filling the silence. 

Next thing he knew, he woke up to the smell of cookies filling the apartment, and Raine quietly setting a container of cookies in front of him. He sat up and uncrossed his arms “Done already?” He asked, slowly stretching out. 

Raine chuckled softly and nodded “You’ve been asleep for about an hour now. Figured you might as well take some cookies home for the family.” She said, tapping the lid of the container before going to get the last batch of cookies out of the oven. 

Vegeta checked the time and nodded, figuring that he’d been gone long enough and should be able to get back to training. So he finally got up, picking up the container. “I should probably get back…” He said, hesitating a little though. 

Raine gave him a smile “Say hi to Bulma for me please! And you’re welcome over any time, just try to give me at least a few minutes heads up, okay?”

Another nod from the Prince, turning his back to her as he got ready to leave. However he paused before leaving the kitchen to turn his head over his shoulder. “Thank you.” He said, a little stiffly, then leaving out the front door and taking off. Raine was kind of surprised by the gratitude, but she couldn’t help beaming even further, knowing he doesn’t go saying that freely. He’s getting better.

[geirskogull]

Important - Chapter 2 - Found

Chapter 2 of @momomomodi and I’s colab fic <3 Ft. two Drunken WoLs attempting to walk home

Archive Link

Words: 2.1 K

Rating: Mature

The Quicksands doors clattered open early in the morning. Though by that time, the bar itself was almost sleepy, the two women stumbling out of its doors were very much less so. At least, one of them was. A drunken dragoon, leaning upon her spear like a lifeline, smiled madly at the elezen across from her. All thoughts of brutal deaths and deep sadness forgotten in favor of mischief in a slow moving inebriated mind. One that could barely stand, let alone jump, in her current state. 

To quote Y’sthola once; she was a borderline functional alcoholic.

“Are you suurreee we need to go home?” The Dragoon whined, like an imputent child. “It’s not THAT late.” She lied, leaning wildly, dangerously, nearly the fountain at the entrance.

The drunken Astrologian grinned at Danica, “Probably. We don’t want to get in trouble with the Brass Blades.” She laughed loudly. While Danica became mischievous, Aveline became… uninhibited. The normally quiet, sad Elezen became a confident woman willing to push people’s buttons with no care for consequence. 

“I think… we should go find Papashan.” She giggled, “He’s gotta be a good drinking partner!” She wobbled slightly as she grabbed Danica’s arm, leading her down the streets of Ul’dah.

“But he’s a ya know...” The Dragoons voice dropped to a faux whisper, more a yell. “A cop” She laughed, properly the Lalafel was a member of the Sultansworn. Less cop and more secret service, but many a childhood running into the security of Ul’dah even had a drunken Dee on edge. But yet, she did not resist her friends pull towards the Gates of Thal. 

“He’s also a station master though, I guess.” She murmured to herself, after a moment's thought. “And I like trains...” 

The Brass Blades stationed outside of the Gates paid the two of them passing mind. Looking at them for a second, registering they were drunkards, gauged they were harm to none, and returned to their nightly dealings. Murmuring to strange shadowy figures and “Keeping the peace.” 

Honestly, looking back, Danica would say they were lucky not to be stopped and taxed for some imaginary fee that only Drunken Elezen and Half Elezen needed to pay. As was the norm for the city of coin. But their temporary luck was not to hold for the morn. 

As the two stumbled towards the tracks, a small band of bandits strode towards them. A cruel laugh stopped the two drunkards in their tracks. Weapons slid free of their sheathes. “Well, what do we have here?” Danica reached for her spear. Aveline took a step towards them, star globe floating above her hand. “Two women having a shitty day.” She narrowed her eyes at the bandits, wobbling slightly as she spoke. The bandits laughed.

They laughed, for they did not yet know that they were fools. Dumb enough to stoll up to two armed women, who happened to also be Warriors of Light, drunk or no. Yet, they pressed on. Slowly surrounding the women, about fourteen of them in total, shadowy, near invisible, in the moonless night. 

The mischief from Voss’ eyes dissipated. Her grip on her spear, true. Though her eyes could not focus, she did not doubt she could still hit her mark. She was Danica Voss, Dragoon. She was Danica Voss, not about to get robbed right outside of the city she lived in. 

Their leader, a leggy gentlemen with an axe that looked like it weighed more than he, Aveline, and Danica put together, spoke again. “Fortunate we ran across them, am I right fellas?” His lackies, the shadowy men with swords and daggers, too blurry to make out any features, laughed and agreed. 

Their jeering continued, even as the not so gentlemanly gentlemen strode towards the two adventurers, who stood now but back to back. “What? Nothing to say ladies?” 

A twitch at Danica’s lip was all he saw before she lunged forward. Words slurred from her lips but declared proudly all the same.

“Taste my Lance”

Oh by the twelve she was quoting Estinien. And so the fight began. The bandits rushed towards the Warriors, weapons raised, anger burning in their eyes. The two women began fighting back with drunken earnest. They met the bandits blow for blow, metal clanging harshly. Aveline began to tire first, not adept in hand to hand combat. Stinging steel cut through the fabric of her shirt, grazing the Astrologian’s arm, blood welling in the wound. The Elezen’s eyes widened slightly, the blood soaking into her shirt turning the fabric a deep red. 

Voss, always the eagled eyed hunter, noticed as well. Hands tightening to a white knuckled grip on her spear. A scream of anger welling in her throat. That was until something caught her, and the bandit’s eye. A streaking splat of black and red, crystalized rage and hatred, beaming their leader right in the head.

It’s origin, a black masked knight of some kind, almost a shadow in the early morning. A greatsword drawn in his hands, a sternness in his stance. She’d read his face, but his helm was featureless. 

“Leave them.” She thought she heard him say, his voice muffled by his mask. Distracting the bandits enough that she could rush to her friends side. Ripping cotton from her shirt sleeve to offer the Astrologian.

Aveline offered her friend a pained smile, quickly shaking her head. The Astrologian gently placed her hand over the bleeding wound. Benefic. The healer’s hand glowed softly, the wounded skin knitting itself back together. 

As soon as the brief reprieve of the Knight’s arrival had began, it had ended. The bandits, torn between attacking the Warriors or the armour clad Knight. The Knight struck down the bandits with ease, the swinging of his greatsword causing blood to rain down upon the sand. His body moved with ease, striking down the bandits that dared not approach him with not so much as a second glance. 

Aveline looked anxiously at Danica, nervously grabbing her friend’s wrist. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust much.” Danica drunkenly attempted to reassure. The Half Elezen was use to bloodshed, use to death, this man wasn’t too much different than they were in battle. At least her drunken eyes told her. 

The remaining bandits turned tail not soon after their leader fell, those who managed to get out of the knights range continued running. A Dark Knight, yes, she remembered Fray speaking about others of their kind. Brutal. Effective. Justice at their core. This had to be one of them. 

Standing from her knee, Voss looked at the man more thoughoutly. She may not have been able to see his face, but from the ear molds on the helm he was an elezen. A tall one at that. She offered Aveline a hand before leaning upon her spear and speaking.

“Do you make a habit of saving every stranger on the road Ser Knight? Or is it just us ladies who get the special treatment?” She asked, sarcasm bleeding into her voice. Some point of wounded pride welling in her words, she should have been able to handle that. She was a warrior of light after all.

The man, for his part, sheathed his sword. Approaching them with a gentle step and open palm. “Are you injured?” More words muffled by his mask. 

Aveline stood, taking the hand Danica offered to her. “No.” She spoke cautiously, liquor infecting her voice. “Answer her question.” Her star globe floated carefully above her hand. “What are you doing here?”

The reply she got was muffled, dark steel muting his words slightly. “You needed help.” Aveline looked around at the bodies scattered around them, blood oozing into the sands. “Help? They were trying to run from you. You killed them!” Her voice grew higher in pitch ever so slightly. The Astrologian had no fear of blood or the dead, though she disliked being so close to the loss of life. Their aether joining Hydaelyn’s, twisting and turning, merging into one. The feeling disturbed her. The blood of the bandits was splattered all over the trio. She shook her head, turning to Danica, “I won’t trust him until we see his face. It’s too convenient.”

Danica relaxed, it was one of their key differences, if she had to think about it. The comfort the two had in the exact presence of death. “He’s right, we did need help. And if they didn’t die here I’m sure they would have preyed upon someone else. And last time I checked, none of us here are free from the particular sin of murder” 

They would have hit others, she was sure of it. And in some way, the knowledge that they wouldn’t because they now held court among Nald’thals judges relaxed her.

She’d seen their type before. Ran from them. Images of a young girl hiding with two others in the corners of Ul’dah flashed in her mind, she willed the image away. No time or energy to get consumed by the past. All that mattered was the now.

 “And we’re being overtly hostile to the gent who just saved our asses. Should we really be making demands?”  Voss hobbled over to a rock, and took a seat, but not before flashing her “Hero with a publicist” smile - to quote Tataru. 

“But, Ace, you do have one thing right. It’s easier to give thanks to someone when you know their name - or face.”  She raised a hand, and finger gunned in the general direction of the Dark Knight, who seemed to laugh. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you but, do you... I’m a...” He stumbled over his words. Voss could not stifle her drunken laugh. “But I’m.... You were!!!” Ah it only grew worse, she could imagine what ever Elezen face behind that mask just bright red in embarrassment. 

She could hear him inhale. Her senses forced to clear, through no will of her own. 

“I’m a Dark Knight. My name is Fuller. I wander and I help people.” He spoke, a Mantra. “People other people won’t help. Those people did you see them? Earlier, before. When you were at the gate, I was leaving too. I saw the Brass Blades point you lot out to them.” 

Voss nodded, a believable story, if ever there was one. Not unlike what befell the one poor man who tried to open a mining business for the Ala Mhigan Refuges, free of the yoke of the syndicate.  Danica looked to Aveline, and motions towards the man, as if to say he past her muster. 

The Astrologian took a deep breath, trying to clear her senses of the metallic smell of blood. She sat next to Danica, pulling her knees to her chest. Feeling the aether drain from people was never an enjoyable experience; Baelsar’s Wall had nearly broken her. 

She looked at the Knight carefully, “Fuller…” She smiled, though it looked as though she was trying not to grimace, “My apologies for my hostility. I… do not do well with death.” 

The Dark Knight planted the tip of his greatsword in the sand, moving towards them. With a smooth movement, he slipped into a low bow, “I am only glad I could help.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. Aveline glanced at Danica. Was it time to move on? What would be the proper thing to do? All of Aveline’s training for navigating the nobility of Ishgard was failing her. What were they to do now?

Voss stood, eyes still a little wobbly. “So, city of coin and all would have us offer you a reward. But you can already tell we’re not at our peak condition. Why not walk us back into the Quicksand and we’ll repay you tomorrow when we can think clearly?”  She must have wobbled more than she intended, as she felt his arm upon her shoulder, righting her. 

“It would be an honor, Madams.” He bowed again, once he was sure she wouldn’t be falling sideways anytime soon. “But please, you’d need not repay me its-”

“Only your oath and way, you’re not our first rodeo with a Dark Knight stranger.” She laughed, remembering the others. Remembering themselves. She offered a hand to Aveline, and looked back towards the city. Momodi would kick their ass for putting themselves in danger like this, that is to say foolishly. But she would be glad to have them back safe. 

“What say you then, Ace? Maybe we could help him a bit or something tomorrow, fair pay yeah?” She asked, her words starting to run together again.

The Astrologian nodded silently, gathering up her things and taking Danica’s hand again. Her expression was pained. Someone wasn’t dead. One of the bandits twitched slightly, moaning on the ground. Aveline screwed her eyes shut. She could practically see the aether leaving his body, seeping into the earth. It was beautiful and horrifying, a sight she could never get used to. The Warrior turned back towards the city of Ul’dah, trying to leave the dying bandit behind her. After a long moment, she turned back and knelt next to the bleeding bandit. Gently taking his hand, she murmured softly. Repose. The bandit’s eyes slowly slipped shut. While the sight of his life leaving his body was no less horrifying, at least he was at peace.

[uhhiimrogahtaylah]

One Night Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader Chapter 1

Summary: You were a good friend of Freddie’s back when he worked at Heathrow Airport. Unwanting to leave you behind as he rose to fame, he often takes you along to Queen parties and events- you’ve made good friends with the boys, although you feel somewhat love-hate towards Roger specifically. Long build up to Roger payoff smut and relationship :)

(Part of a Chapter Series)

Warning: Swearing, Brief Scene of harassment, alcohol/drug use, angst

Chapter 1

“So how exactly did you make your way into every event we host?” Brian laughed- he’d gotten used to your extravagant outfits, seeing a somewhat diva in you, much like Freddie.

“Sounds like complaining to me... got something I need to know?” You smirked back, ruffling his locks as you walked past him to refill your glass of whiskey.

“Well if you must know, darling,” Freddie turned to Brian, “I’m too generous a man to leave behind a friend in such a shithole. Besides, the lack of sleep I saw Y/N getting was becoming an eyesore, to be quite frank.” Freddie glanced at you, shooting you a dazzling smile which you humbly returned.

“By the looks of it, you’re still not getting much sleep” Roger snarked, raising his head from the girls beside him. You shot him a nasty look, mocking his demeanor, which he effortlessly laughed off, only to once again divert his ateention to his pets.

It quickly became apparent after joining the band’s events that you fit into this climate- partying, drinking, quick flings and shameless flirting. It suited you more than the colourless and bleak life of a 9-5 job, and you found comfort in Freddies relentless support of you - that being, financially too. You explored the many rooms of his home by day and lived like one of them by night.

Tonight’s event was no different- another pointless party at Freddie’s because “you never need a reason to party, you just do it.” People were scattered everywhere, kissing sloppily and drinking and dancing. You let yourself get lost in the music, twirling around without minding your spilling drink or tangly-mess of hair. You felt good, and even better seeing all the boys had their eyes turned to you, almost enchanted by seeing you in your element.

“You all just gonna sit there and stare or join a girl, huh?” Deacy and Brian looked at eachother, faking a look of exasparation, but smoothly took their dates by the hand and led them away from the seating area. Freddie jumped up dramatically and immediately allowed the strong beat of the song move through his every joint, prancing away. Only Roger remained, still buried under the redheads smothering him, although his eyes were transfixed on you. You narrowed your gaze back at him, and he shook his head, maybe in dismissal or something you couldn’t quite read. You knew he felt weird about your utter uninterest in him, honestly insulted by how you were so okay being just friends with him; although he was much too prideful to ever admit it. You shrugged this psychoanalysis away and continued to dance, every so often taking a sip of whiskey, and letting it wash you away. An hour later you found yourself in another mysterious bathroom, in another secluded corner of Freddies house. You could barely recognise the face staring back at you in the mirror and that’s when you knew perhaps you’d taken the drinking a little too far that night. Your mascara was still in place but the thrill of it all made your eyes pop larger and wider, making you look borderline crazy. You hair was now messier and larger too, and lipstick smudged halfway across your cheek. You felt yourself getting more and more dizzy until a sharp knock at the door stabilised you. “Sorry, is anyone in there?” A feminine voice asked. You silently crept up to the door,opening it, but decided not to leave. In stumbled one of Rogers little friends; are tall redhead whose make up was almost missing, a look just as unawake as yours on her face. For a moment you both looked into each others eyes and shamelessly giggled at how often you looked this terrifying at the end of these events. She walked in hastily, leaning agaisnt the counter and biting her lip. “God, you know I hate to admit it but sometimes... I wish Roger actually noticed any of the girls he hung out with. I mean, it’s all fun and games being a groupie for a world famous rockstar, but honestly his manner and sheer confidence can make a girl crazy. Am I absolutely batshit crazy for feeling something more?” she smiled. She looked at you somewhat in discontent feeling that you’re confused eyes and bewildered expression didn’t relate to what she had said- “C’mon, you’re his friend, you can’t tell me that you don’t feel it too sometimes!” Your eyes widened in disbelief, ”Actually, babe, it’s very easy to not feel it. You just have to realise how much of a dickhead he can be,” Your voice trailed away slightly, feeling weirdly guilty for having said something so crude. “Anyways, I’ve got to return to the party. I’m sure they’re missing me dearly,” you said leaving. Turning into the corridor, trying hard not to stumble at one of the millions of cats walking slowly in front of you, you saw a pair of leather boots ahead, realising Roger was walking in your direction. “Did you see Cassie by any chance? She seemed a bit upset and I just wanted to check on her.”

“Wow, that’s very gentlemanly of you Roger. Honestly I’m impressed.” He sarcastically bowed in courtesy and followed the nod of your head pointing him towards the bathroom. You lingered in the hallway for a while, accidentally overhearing the sincerity of Rog’s voice in the bathroom. You mind wandered for a while, your finger working its way up to your lips, wondering what... Loud moaning and grunting suddenly emerged from behind the door. You snapped out of your head and eagerly stumbled away.

Yet another hour later you found yourself in a completely different bathroom, with two grand windows and gold plated tiles. Your mouth was locked onto that of a short, brown—haired man, and after having to uncomfortably open your eyes to such a view, you sluggishly pushed him away, slightly queasy from his desperation.

“What the hell?! I was just getting into it, why did you stop?”

“Get away from me dude,” you replied, completely unfazed by his quickening anger. You tried to push past him but he quickly grabbed onto your wrists and slammed you hard against the window. The sound of partying and laughter slightly dimmed below you, you recognising that you must’ve been in the bathroom above the garden. You heard someone shout below you but everything was blurring in and out of focus, and unable to make out what they were saying you didn’t reply.

“God you’ve got a lot of fucking strength in you for someone so short” you complained, irritation getting the best of you. Outside the bathroom door you heard hurried footsteps and a struggle with the locked door handle. You mustered up all your strength and were able to push the guy away, but he himself was so drunk, he loosely fell back and passed out on the floor. You took out a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it as you walked over to the door. You unlocked it only to see Mary and Freddie, faces of concern slapped across them.

“Are you alright?” Mary asked frantically, checking to see what was going on.

“Yeah I’m fine, just some wanker trying to ruin my night,” Freddie peeped past your shoulder, chortling at the drunken man on the floor.

“Well, you really are a girl who can take care of herself. I applaud you.”

“Wow, that’s my second applause of the night!” You squeezed past them, unmoved by their bewilderment and hurried back downstairs to join the rest of the party.

The next morning you woke up with a banging headache, and almost couldn’t find the will in yourself to get aspirins and water to calm it down. You were once again in a bed that did not belong to you, but judging by the grand pillars and luxurious furniture of the place, you found relief knowing that you were still at Freddies. To your surprise, the space beside you in bed was empty -thank God- and you slipped a blanket around you as you decided to venture downstairs for some breakfast. Almost all of the partygoers had already disappeared leaving rubbish, cups and bottles, cigarette butts, scrap pieces of food, and even condom wrappers laying forgotten on the floor. The large room was accompanied only by a loudly snoring Brian, confetti in his hair, and Deaky passed out in an armchair, still holding onto his glass.

“God what a mess,” you laughed to yourself, fastening the blanket around your hips. You habitually avoided looking at the tall mirrors in the hallway between the large room and the kitchen, not even wanting to be terrified by the view you might see.

“Christ you scared me,” said an astonished Roger, glass of water in one hand and a bag of crisps in the other. “What are you doing up so early anyway, shouldn’t you be getting some sleep and getting rid of those eyebags you’ve got?”

“Fuck off Roger,” you smiled. “I’m too tired to even deal with your taunting.”

“D’you want me to make you a cup of tea? I just boiled some water,” he said. You nodded in acceptance as he turned around to mend to the kettle. You couldn’t help but notice his physique, not something you are too proud of often admiring.

“Nice arse you’ve got there,” you teased.

“Take a picture love, it’ll last longer,” he said not even turning around. You sparked another cigarette.

“I wonder if I’ll ever get bored of this life.” You mindlessly remarked, suddenly embarrassed to have said your thoughts out loud. Roger, not noticing your moment of awkwardness, replied “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll ever get bored either... maybe I’ll just get too sick to keep partying and die a fatal death,” he joked.

“Christ Rog, don’t say things like that,”

“Maybe if I die suddenly you’ll have a reason to cry at my funeral,” he teased, his tone of humour not doing a good job at hiding his genuine interest.

“I’d cry at your funeral you dip shit,”

“Would you really?” he asked. You for a split moment saw that behind his confidence and luck with the ladies, was a man needing validation, needing to be wanted or missed by someone else. “You’re not psycho-analysing me again, are you? I’ll give you my medical records if you’re that keen,” he said. He paused for a moment, clearly focusing on something, chewing it around in his mind. He bit his lip as he did so, giving you something else to think about.

“You see, you’ve bloody gone and wasted all your money then, haven’t you?” The return of his snide comments made any sympathy you felt for the guy leave just as quickly as it had came.

“I’m not following,” you said.

“Well, I mean you spent all that money getting a psychology degree, in a bloody good university too, might I add, just to end up working a shitty airport job and spending the rest of your 20s drinking yourself away. “

Your eyes narrowed again and you felt his own become nervous. “I just mean to say, my experience as a guy doing this has been rather tasteful... but I can’t imagine to ever meet another girl like you, who’d be comfortable with the uncommitted flirting and one night stands like you are,” he chuckled lightly. After a long drag from your cigarette, you’re replied, “That’s just because you’re too big headed to think anyone so similar to you could ever exist,” and smiled as you took a mug of tea from him, leaving him rather startled in the kitchen.

As the afternoon rolled in, Freddie, dressed in a flamboyant purple-sequinned jumpsuit, walked onto the balcony on which you were sat.

“What an entrance,” you said, smiling at him. He however did not return the smile, but only hummed along in agreement. Freddie sat beside you for awhile, taking in the view as if it was something that didn’t quite belong to his own house.

“Mary is worried about you,” he finally spoke. “She thinks you’re taking everything in a bit too fast,” Somewhat offended, you searched his curious eyes , trying to figure out why he felt you needed another parent. However, not wanting to come across as rude, typical to your British custom, you simply responded with, “Tell her not to worry. She must know I’m happy Freddie. This just feels right for me,”

“God darling,” he began, “you’re starting to sound like even more of a bitchy rockstar than I. I don’t think I’ve even met a bandmate as non-committal as you,” he paused for a moment as if trying to stiffle a laugh. “I honestly think you’re even worse than Roger!” At this you almost spat out your drink.

“Roger? Jesus, Freddie,” together you laughed, knowing however that as soon as the amusement faded, you had another lecture coming.

“You know doll, there is so much colour out in the musical world. So much to see and do and experience- but you don’t belong to it. You’re not ready for how destructive it can be. Isn’t there a higher purpose you may have?”

“Freddie,” you laughed, “higher purpose? I think you must still be drunk from last night.”

“No, no, I’m serious!” his voice concerning you, “Y/N, I wanted to do the right thing for you when I took you out of that job, and I want you here by my side as always, and you know that I always want what’s best for you- and I can see that right now it’s not how you’re living. Roger is concerned-”

“Wait, is this seriously about Mary? Or did Roger just get jealous because I was a little cocky in the morning?” Freddie looked back at you pleadingly.

“No, darling you know I wouldn’t lie to you. Doll, when Roger is concerned, something must really be a problem, because believe-you-me, that boy doesn’t have a reason to be concerned by much.”

“Well,” you replied, “Roger can take his concern someplace else, because it doesn’t belong with me.” You stood up in anger, leaving behind a defeated Freddie, knowing he perhaps pushed too far. You stormed downstairs hoping to find Roger. To your disappointment, the only person you could find was Brian; he was indulging in a tabloid, kissing his teeth at every other article his eyes glanced upon. When you walked in with so much anger in your eyes, he quickly shut the articles, tapping the seat next to him.

“Sit down, Y/N. Is everything alright?” Through heaving anger you explained the situation.

“I’m just afraid that they want me to be a quiet mouse who has no fun in her bones and wouldn’t know thrill if it was standing in front of her,” you whined.

“Y/N, I think you’re taking it the wrong way. I don’t want you to feel attacked by what I’m saying because I understand your frustration, but perhaps they just want you to be alright? That doesn’t mean you have to compromise who you are or your personality or extravagant shenanigans. Just, sober up a bit,” He was slightly embarrassed at having to tell you something so bluntly. “Try to be alone for a while- no flings- well, as alone as you can be, because you know you’ve always got us here as well.” You closed your eyes, laying your head on the back of the sofa. Maybe Brian was right- you knew he was a little more levelheaded than Roger and even Freddie when it came to the emotional stuff. Not wanting to address the conversation directly, you laughed at him.

“God, I thought I was supposed to be the one with a psychology degree,” He gave you a warm smile, embracing you in his long arms. Just at that moment, Roger came in with John Reid, whose presence admittedly you were not too fond of, never being the type to favour the rich businessmen of this industry. You politely smiled at him while shooting daggers at Roger, ones to which he didn’t even try to retaliate.

“Uh, Y/N, John needs to talk to you. I’ll give you guys some space.” He signalled for Brian to leave behind his magazine and follow him into the hallway nearby.

John pursed his lips tightly, clearly not having good news as he awkwardly took a seat opposite you. Trying to stay cool, you asked him “Everything alright John?”

“Yeah-yeah...uh, no actually. I came here to talk to you about the image you create around Queen. We know, and trust me I get this, you’re a friend of Freddies... and you want to join into their fun. But some of the guys in management have started to fear you attract too many hostile visitors to these events. We know they’re not exactly formal parties, but still, security and management have agreed it’s not a good idea to have such a wildcard like you around. Especially after last night’s situation. I mean, someone filed a complaint against Queens management, claiming their safety had been compromised at the party,” He awkwardly looked back at you, finishing his speech. For a moment you felt stuck - like you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even take your eyes off of him. Fury, disbelief, betrayal and anger - everything bottling up inside you.

“How can I be the compromise of health and safety when these parties are a breeding ground for drugs, alcohol and a plethora of sexual diseases, John? You’re not being serious. Think about what you’re saying,” you retaliated. Suddenly Roger had wandered back into the room, his eyes were wide and his stance felt intimidating.

“John, can I talk to you outside?” he said sternly. Johns eyes rushed between yours and Rogers, but he unwillingly obliged. In came Brian, "the audacity mate, can you imagine...” he muttered. You decided to remain silent in an attempt to hear the conversation Roger was holding with John. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying, but through Rogers angry tone and Johns stuttering you knew Rog was fighting on your behalf. You heard the door shut with some attitude, and back came Roger. He opened his mouth in attempt to explain everything that had happened, but not wanting to hear it you dashed a big smile at him. “You haven’t got to worry about anything, love” he tried. You still tried to shut him up, walking over to plant a thankful kiss on his cheek, and immediately walking past to collect yourself elsewhere.

»»»

I saw red hearing what John was saying to Y/N in the other room. As much as I found Y/N rather irritating most of the time, I knew what he was saying and accusing her of was unfair, and just had to interrupt. Brian tried holding me back for a while more, knowing my anger wasn’t my most logical state of mind, but I couldn’t hear anymore of it. I stormed into the room and as soon as John had followed me out into the hallway again, turned on him.

“John you need to fuck off,” I said.

“Well that’s a bit forward, Roger, don’t you think? Listen, what you don’t see is I’m trying to do something good for your image. Queen is still not secure enough in the industry to be flipping out like this on your event guests. That drunk guy she pushed over yesterday could’ve been seriously hurt by his fall had it ended otherwise, and the blame would fall on all of you.”

“But it didn’t end otherwise. She defended herself. We all saw how violent he got with her through the window, that fucking bastard.”

“Not the point, Roger.”

“John, she’s a good friend to all of us. We care about her. If she goes, I go,” It was a bold statement. It wasn’t even true. I had no idea why I’d even said it. I felt even more unnerved hoping that he wouldn’t know I was bluffing. His startled laughter annoyed me even more.

“Roger, you can’t be serious. I know you wouldn’t sacrifice the career of your dreams for some groupie to stick around for any longer than the others.” Upon seeing the slanted look in your eyes and your clenched fists, Johns laughter was wiped from his face and instead he slowly moved back.

“She’s not a groupie, John, and you better never forget yourself like that again. I’d rather we be known as the Queen who keeps around wild friends than the Queen who blames innocent girls for attacking guys who don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

That shut him up. John knew I was right. He mumbled something under his breath too quietly for me to even distinguish.

„Fine, alright. I’ll call Freddie when I get the chance and apologise,” I moved my body the slightest to signal him out the door and he sheepishly walked out. I returned to the large room, seeing an anxious Y/N on the sofa.

I tried to find the words to make my protectiveness come off as rather non-chalant, cos’ even I was slightly taken aback as to why I would go this far just for her to stick around. To my surprise she pranced up and quickly gave me a cheek on the kiss. Almost out of second nature I wanted to make a suggestive comment, something about how soft her lips were or where else I would like them- but absolutely fucking shocked by these thoughts in my head, I decided to shut up and not dare say another word.

[freyjaxshieldxmaiden-blog]

Speak Up

One of the best pieces of advice i received when I was hospitalized, that my godparents Shared with me is this “living soberly often isn’t “fun” or the fun you’re used to...it can feel boring and in fact it can be because without the chaos that alcohol can often induce life can then at times feel almost too calm and unexciting because, well let’s be honest at least I can speak for myself alcohol definitely makes things interesting to say the least because then I’m more outgoing and impulsive so yea i make things “interesting” because you never know who you get with me, typically the borderline comes out even more aggressively and without abandon and honestly its not cute...so back to my godparents advice... Nicole it can feel boring but your life itself will be more satisfying, fulfilling and memorable at the end of it all if lived sober. It may not be the exact excitement you yearn for? But it will be worth it as you make of it what you will.

I’ll try and keep this short. I like to look at and analyze myself to get a better understanding of who i am and why i do what i do in order to become ashes and rebuild myself from there and continue to grow and learn and evolve so I can experience life to the fullest and hopefully help others along the way. I’ve always identified as an addict i truly believe most it not all are whether it’s starving ourselves, addiction to the scale to social media to shopping to the gym to selfies to camping to riding bikes ... and addiction doesn’t have to be “bad” although we have attributed to it a negative connotation.. the word or label itself isn’t bad in and of itself society has demonized the word through the experience of others... i digress... point is we all have something “good” or “bad” (which i don’t agree with these terms) as deemed by society that we cling to and might even obsess over and fill our life with to create a purpose or establish some sense of control and often to numb with so that life feels a little less scary.. it never sat well with me that in AA meetings an individual who solely drinks is an “alcoholic” but the guy next to him is an “addict” because he drinks and chooses crack... THEY ARE ONE IN THE SAME... it is just more societally acceptable to be a “functioning alcoholic” than an “addict” (as defined by society) because of the stigma that’s been created by humans... because alcohol is legal??? It is a leading cause of depression and suicide and fills our hospital with mentally and physically ill people. Those with eating disorders are addicts too.. addicted to the starving to the counting calories all the nuanced behavior but it is often glamorized at least anorexia is so it’s less embarrassing to speak openly about an ED than to admit to obsessively and compulsively drinking and using because “those people” are degenerates at least that’s commonly how “addicts” or those who use “illegal” drugs are viewed in today’s society. So a person with bulimia and a compulsion to over excercise and cut is more worthy of getting resources for recovery than a person who picks up every night ? Both individuals are numbing both are in pain, both are escaping trauma and silently begging for help internally... but we shoo the “addict” away. I didn’t choose to have an eating disorder ? You think i asked to spend more than half my life now just holding on enough to stay alive ? Yes the addict chose to buy the drug yes the ED client chose to buy the food to binge on but these people did not ask for the obsessiveness and compulsion to do this? It is just how life and genetics and their environment and time period and culture played out such that their “addiction” inevitably manifested itself.

I thought finding recovery from anorexia would be the hardest obstacle I’d ever fight in my life.... and when it was over life would be ok... then she met her best friends binging and bulimia via exercise .. game changer... now the war got a little more complicated. So i managed to survive anorexia well hell yea I can take on these other armies...unbeknownst to myself these ladies had a secret weapon I was not expecting nor prepared for... depression and he... he was a whole other demon. I fell down in that battle for what felt like an eternity I wouldn’t say he was a harder fight than just the EDs but... i was used to those enemies.. they were familiar I was used to their tactics and their strategy in the battlefield... depression was a curveball and crippled me for awhile as it’s strongest fighter, suicide, pinned me down in the soil for what feel like ages... Funny thing is the ED troops began to retreat as depression stormed the field.. those soldiers just weren’t necessary anymore and I had slain most of them prior to.. and then... oh and then... plot twist... i called on my own secret weapon or what I believed to be my backup... alcohol ...and I squirmed out from under the grips of depression and suicide and the remaining eating disorder men stumbled back and quickly found hiding in the depths of the forest... i could breathe again... i looked down at myself breathing heavily, bloodied and scarred but I was alive when moments before I didn’t think I would be. I trusted alcohol as i once trusted Ed who eventually deceived me... or so I though i could... Alcohol wouldn’t do that to me? He showed up for me and saved me from the grasps of ED and suicide!?! Haha... how foolish.. I’ve realized for awhile now as I’m sure others have, that in which I don’t speak openly about... that the reason my back has been bothering me so much lately and I’m tired all the time is that in the “calmness” that followed me slithering out of the grasps of suicide, at least temporarily, (because i never actually killed him...he escaped.. that coward..) an entire other war was waged... alcohol had betrayed me and used the very sword it wielded to slay the ED soldiers to stab me right in the back... I’ve been walking with that blindly for awhile now... yah know I knew it the moment she touched my lips on the battle field... i just refused to acknowledge the blood pooling by my feet. And the true war lord BPD has watched this whole time... without me ever aware until now.. she sits on her thrown mockingly.. she having directed the troops and directing the officers battle after battle...

It’s been a goal of mine for awhile to live completely and absolutely soberly for a few years now.. it’s been a long time coming... I’ve been in this stage of recognition where I know what has to be done but not actually committing to the change... i never speak about this part of my journey but I was told by a very good therapist once “secrets make you sick” and I’m tired of being secret and hiding out of fear of rejection and judgement of others... well if I’m going to live the life i want so badly and inspire others as I so desperately want to.. then it is time to commit. I am to most the face of an eating disorder and more recently BPD and to some maybe more than I think I’m the face of a person who has been vehemently fighting alcoholism since I started working at Tisane. It has been almost 5 years and 5 years too many. Nowadays by definition most people who drink are considered alcoholics but it’s “ok” and someone isn’t identified as one because they are “functioning” still quite well and holding down a job. Yea I finished my bachelors education magna cum laude started a masters program continued to work full time, lived on my own for awhile and appeared to be doing fine all the while drinkibg myself until I was absolutely numb and the eating disorder and depression shut the hell up. And yah know I am grateful for alcoholism in part because it did help save me from ED it gave me a break from that war so that i could gain the strength to maintain recovery and successfully hold off those troops... but he’s had his time and i now feel in my bones the strength and determination to remove this sword from my back and attend to my wounds .. not just slap a bandaid on but really have it tended to.. I’m ready for this next battle to be very difficult and also different from the previous ones but now It know i am stronger, more resourceful, and this time I’m not on the battlefield alone ... sword and shield in hand... let the fight begin. Cheers to sobriety. Thanks for reading if you make it all the way to the end... i appreciate your willingness to take the time to hear my journey.

[coffee-and-kpop]

Can you do 35 and 78 with Yoongi?

35. We never speak the same language78. You can meet your soulmate in your dreams

“Hyung, you actually learned English? Like, you’re fluent?” Jungkook laughed for the hundredth time, causing Yoongi to grin his teeth. He knew the entire maknae line was doing this just to grate his nerves, and he was very unpleased to say that they had managed to do that and more. He was ready to kill them.

“Just for your soulmate? Ha!” Jimin laughed, slapping his knee in a very overly dramatic manor. Yoongi rolled his eyes and caught Namjoon’s glistening smirk.

“What the fuck do you three know about soulmates? You haven’t met yours yet. I bet they all speak different languages,” Yoongi snapped, balling up his fists and digging his nails into his palms.

“Don’t let them get to you. They’re basically three year olds,” Jin said, his voice smooth and gentle. Yoongi had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his hyung, stop himself from getting angry at Jin’s steadiness, stop himself from getting so fucking annoyed. It wasn’t Jin’s fault that his soulmate was Korean, that he didn’t know what it was like to see his soulmate every night and only be able to stare at her.

“Namjoon learned Mandarin for his fucking soulmate!” Yoongi borderline shrieked, because he knew that was true. Namjoon had told him that first night Yoongi met his soulmate, when he’d stumbled into Namjoon’s room after he’d woken up, bleary eyed and almost in tears.

“I learned Mandarin for the fans,” Namjoon enunciated each letter in the word, and Yoongi could have beat every single member to a bloody pulp right then and there. “It just so happened that my soulmate was Chinese.”

“I’m going to bed,” Yoongi gritted through clenched teeth, pounding the table. It took every ounce of strength he had in him not to turn around and beat Jungkook bloody as he called out “tell your soulmate annyeong, or rather hello, from me!”

Yoongi fell asleep almost instantly, the minute his head hit the pillow. He’d usually have trouble sleeping, he’d always had ever since he was little, but the promise of seeing you in his dreams sent I’m right into unconscious.

It took a moment for the fog to clear over his vision, as it did every time he saw you. But then, after a moment, you were standing before him. The most beautiful person he’d ever seen, the one person who always made his heart race and his palms clammy.

“Hi, y/n,” Yoongi whispered, cringing at how thick his accent sounded to him. He’d been practicing so long with Namjoon, for so many hours. He’d been proud of how far his English had come in such a short time, but being here before you now, forcing himself to use these new skills, made him feel awkward and embarrassed.

“Hi, Yoongi. I can’t stay long. I think I fell asleep in class,” you giggled, and if his heart was ever able to burst, it would have done so just then, at the sound of your laugh. Yoongi couldn’t stop the broad grin spreading across his face. “How was your day?”

And so Yoongi told you everything about his day, having to pause every so often to think of the right word in English. But you listened intently anyway, as if he was telling you the most interesting story you’d ever heard. Finally, a mist started forming over you, signaling your time to wake up.

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” you whispered, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. He kissed each of your knuckles, trying to savor every moment with you.

“I love you, Y/N. See you soon.”

“Saranghae, Min Yoongi,” you said, and then you were gone. And Yoongi smiled to himself, a huge grin, as his hand now clamped around nothing. He’d never taught you the word for ‘I love you’ in Korean.

- Admin PeachJin 🍑

[bgtdw]

Safe Word

Dave was fifteen minutes late when he finally arrived at work, and that didn’t include the thirty minutes he was supposed to arrive early from being behind the previous evening.

He didn’t think of himself as a lazy person or a slacker, but he had a difficult time maintaining a schedule and tended to get distracted by whatever was in front of him.  This had been a problem for him from the time he was young resulting in a steady stream of scoldings and groundings from his parents and endless reprimands from school officials for tardy attendance and incomplete homework assignments.

It would have been simple enough to try and sneak past his manager Mitch’s office on his way to his locker, but Dave decided against it and knocked on the door frame.

“Hey man, I’m really sorry I’m late again.”  Dave said.  “Traffic was a total nightmare.”

Mitch ran a hand through his hair sweeping it back off his forehead and looked up at Dave.

“It’s alright, but let’s try not to make a habit of it, okay?”

“Definitely not...thanks Mitch.”

“No problem.”

There were few sweeter words in the English language to Dave than, ‘No problem’.

He had a knack for bringing out this kind of spontaneous compassion in people.  Part of it probably had to do with his own laidback nature, which seemed to permeate the personalities of those around him, but sometimes he swore there was almost something mystical or magical about it.

This certainly hadn’t been true when he was a kid. In addition to constantly getting in trouble with the adults in his life, he had also received his fair share of ass kickings from his peers for saying or doing the wrong thing or for simply being small enough to knock around without fear of physical repercussions.

The first time Dave noticed the effect he had on people was during his junior year of high school.  He had grown his hair out and started sporting Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd t-shirts as part of his regular attire after delving headlong into pot the previous summer. He’d only tried weed a couple of times before then, but was now getting stoned on a fairly regular basis.  Being altered, as he liked to think of it, helped him get out of his head and made it easier to deal with his teachers and his mom, who’d become borderline unbearable ever since Dave’s dad had split a year back.  The mellow he felt in his altered state seemed to affect not only himself but those around him, like they were somehow all sharing the same buzz.  Dave initially chalked up the group attitude adjustment to him being less of an all-out spaz, but even back then he suspected this wasn’t the whole truth.

After graduating college he’d had to cut way back since the temp agency he worked for performed regular drug testing.  He missed being high, but that sense of wellbeing he’d felt seemed to remain intact even when he wasn’t indulging.  Dave wasn’t sure if his personality had slowly changed over time to coincide with the low-key demeanor the drugs had helped facilitate, but whatever it was, adults, children, even animals seemed to mellow in his presence.

Dave waved to Mitch as he exited the store and then started cataloging the stack of new releases to get them ready for the floor.  Out of the thirty or so albums he flipped through, he’d only recognized a few of the artists and it made him feel suddenly old and out-of-touch.  After finishing with the new merchandise displays he set about tiding up the racks from the day shift.  It drove him nuts the way people just left the records and CDs scattered about as if taking ten seconds to put them back in their proper place was some major inconvenience.  He was scanning over the Q through S rack of the Classical section when he came across Howard Jones’s Dream Into Action.

“Fucking assholes.” Dave said and grabbed the CD, which revealed a collection by Stravinsky as next in the row.

Track one off that album, “Things Can Only Get Better”, had been a big hit for Jones in ‘85 and Dave remembered hearing it on the radio and liking it until someone informed him that it wasn’t the new Thompson Twins single.  Looking back now he wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, his misunderstanding over the song’s author, or the fact that he didn’t think the song was cool enough to listen to after he’d learned the truth about it.

“Excuse me, do you have the new Depeche Mode album?”

Dave looked up from the rack he was sorting through to find a twenty-something woman with short, black hair and a tiny gold hoop nose-ring only a few inches from his face.

“Uh...yeah...we’ve got that in.”  Dave said in a way that sounded more like he was asking himself a question rather than making a statement.

“Can you show me where it is?”

“Oh, sure, of course, right this way.”  Dave said and started walking toward one of the end-cap displays on the other side of the store.  

“Is the new album any good, I haven’t heard it yet?”  Dave said as he led the woman down one of the maroon-carpeted aisles.

“Yeah, I think it’s great. That’s why I’m getting it.”

“That makes sense.” Dave said, wishing he could stop coming across like he’d been recently lobotomized.  

“It’s right over there.” Dave said, gesturing to the display. “Sorry if I acted like a dope before. I didn’t sleep well and my head’s still a bit fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy, yeah....” the woman said and swayed a little on her feet.

“Are you all right? Dave said.

“...I’m fine...just a little...ya know...fuzzy....”  

Dave barely managed to stop the woman from cracking her head as she collapsed beside him, toppling the cardboard display on her way down and sending the square plastic jewel cases skittering across the floor.  He could see that she was still breathing and didn’t appear to be undergoing any kind of seizure or convulsion.  It didn’t really seem like she’d passed out, more that she’d spontaneously fallen asleep and Dave wondered whether she was a narcoleptic.  He took off the red cotton vest with Music Metropolis stitched on the left side and balled it up under her head.  

The store was empty aside from the two of them, but Dave kept looking back over his shoulder at the woman as he hurried over to the info desk to call an ambulance.  While he waited for the paramedics he sat down next to the woman and tried talking to her, but the only response she made was to flip over on to her other side and scrunch up her legs like a cat taking a nap in a pool of afternoon sun.

After what felt like an eternity Dave finally saw flashing lights coming from the parking lot and he headed over to the front of the store.

“She’s over there.” Dave said, holding open the door and pointing to the spot where the woman lay still surrounded by CD cases, which reflected the lights back up making it seem like she was in a ring of tiny moons.

One of the EMTs went to her while the other turned to Dave.  “Can you tell us what happened?”

“It’s like I told the emergency operator.  I was showing her where an album was and we were talking and she was fine, then all of the sudden she just fell over.”

“Did she say or do anything unusual right before it happened?”

“Not really; I mean she said she felt fuzzy, which is what I had said I felt like, and then she hit the deck.”

“Did it look like she might’ve been drinking or on drugs?”

“I don’t think so. When she came in she seemed sober as a nun.  I’m the one who acted like a stumbling drunk.  I’ve got chronic insomnia and I only slept a few hours; been walking around this place like a zombie.”

“Zombie….”

“Yeah, you know, like Night of the Living Dead.”

“Right, right, Night of the Living Dead with all those folks coming up out of their graves and going around chasing people and—”

This time Dave wasn’t fast enough.  

The medic listed to the side and was on the ground before Dave had a chance to move.

“Mike?” the other EMT said looking up from the woman and over at Dave. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Dave protested.

“Don’t you fucking move. I’m calling the cops.”

Dave stood there like a deer in headlights for a moment and then bolted out the front door.  He heard the medic yelling after him, but he didn’t look back or stop running until he was blocks away with his legs trembling from the exertion and his lungs burning as he gulped in air.

He leaned against the chain link fence that bordered the south end of a park near his house trying to remember if he’d told the 911 operator his name, though even if he hadn’t they still knew where he worked.  Dave tried to think, to formulate some rational explanation for what had happened, but his mind wouldn’t stop flashing images of prison bars and electric chairs at him and he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up.

All he wanted was to go home and lie in his bed so he could finally wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Dave didn’t know what he would say to the police when they finally came for him.

He wasn’t sure what was safe to say anymore….

[summer-eclipse]

ROPPONGI NIGHTS PART TWO (ROUGH DRAFT) 
Hopefully that text will keep me out of trouble, I thought to myself. Something i always seem to be in because of this business. 
I worked illegally in this country which meant my boss was naturally pretty high ranked in the mafia. It’s great company when you want to party but it’s bad when you have to work under them. 
Just then a sleepy Jiyong moved from my shoulder to lay himself across the backseat and rest his head in my lap, looking up at me. 
"You’re pretty” he said while he continued to stare up at me, making that goofy grin again. 
I scoffed, “I’m no glamorous celebrity but thank you.” I shifted my gaze from his piercing eyes to look out the window of the taxi. It was raining hard now and the droplets running down the window provided me with the calm I needed to stop my heart from bursting out of my chest. He was one of my top celebrity crushes after all. And he had his head in my fucking lap.
“What’s your name?” His voice coming out a little less slurred, but this question came out in Korean. 
“Y/N.” I said. Trying not to look at the man who was laying in my lap. 
“Y/N….. Prettttttttty.”, he said. Then I felt him jerk upwards, his face now very close to mine, “hey! You can speak Korean?”. 
I sighed slightly, I really wanted to keep interaction to a minimum, I don’t want to get myself into anymore trouble than necessary. 
“Not really. I tried to learn once but then I moved to Japan so learning Japanese instead just made more sense.” I shrugged and let my head fall back onto the seat further away from him. 
“Why did you come Japan?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested. 
“I don’t know, I guess i just wanted to try living here.” I paused, he really doesn’t need to know any of this and I’m sure it’s really boring. But one glance in his direction told me he was waiting for more of an explanation, I sighed again, “well, I lived in England for four years and got bored of the familiarity between English speaking countries. So here I am.” 
“Why did you live in England?” His face inching closer but more so out of visable genuine interest than anything else. 
“I was in university studying Astrophysics. I couldn’t afford to finish my bachelors degree let alone my PH.D so I quit and ran away to England. Where my mom was born. Change of scenery, that’s all.” 
He sat up and put his head back on my shoulder, deep in thought. “You must be really smart then, and your life sounds so interesting.” 
I scoffed again in utter disbelief, “This coming from an extremely famous celebrity, adored by millions.” 
Still staring out the window of the taxi his voice came out softer than before, “I just got lucky. Anyone could do what I do. I’m jealous of you.” 
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, a celebrity of his status was jealous of me? Are you kidding? I was working for the mafia, getting paid to be sexually harassed so I could afford to go to language school and stay in this country. I’ve almost been killed, had alcohol poisoning at least once a week, forced to do hard drugs and yet here is this perfect specimen of a man, getting jealous of me. 
“We all want what we don’t have. But trust me, your life is much more interesting Jiyong.” I replied, trying to cut off the conversation again. 
Its not that I didn’t want to talk to him, it’s just I don’t want to grow attached to a guy I’ll never see again. I’d rather he stayed just a fantasy. They always say you should never meet your idols right?
I turned to look at him and he was staring at me wide eyed. 
“What?” I asked, slightly more sharp than I intended. 
“I really like it when you say my name.” He blurted, and then giggled and fell back into his seat. 
Just then the car pulled into the entrance of the hotel, I instructed the driver to pull into valet parking where we could take the hotel elevator directly to his floor without going through the lobby where reporters most likely waited. 
The car came to a halt in front of the valet elevator doors and the taxi door popped open. 
I tapped my PASMO card on the fee pad and pulled Jiyong out of the car. 
As the car pulled away I led the band member towards the clear doors into the valet elevator lobby. 
“Which floor are you on?” I asked, pressing the button to call the elevator. 
“Hmm, 30… maybe.” He said. 
“Maybe?” I spat back, “how do you not know what floor you’re on?” 
Just then the elevator dinged and he jumped into it, grabbing my wrist and dragging me inside with him. He leant forward, pressed button 30 and then prompted the doors to shut. 
“You know, you don’t seem that drunk now I’m sure you can get home by yourself.” I said, feeling a little weird riding the elevator to his floor. I was intending to walk home after dropping him off. 
“What if I get lost?” He asked, looking dead serious as he slumped back into the corner of the elevator. 
I shook my head in disbelief and sighed. What have I gotten myself into. I’m sure he’s just looking to get laid, honestly he was so drunk a while ago I’m sure he’s mistaking me for someone model type beautiful. 
Just then a hand pressed against the small of my back and Jiyong appeared beside me. 
“I’m… I… well…. are you busy?” He asked, voice sounding shaky and nervous. 
“Huh?” I reacted, clearly I’m not busy, it’s like 4am.
“I want to hangout tomorrow because I have the day off, Please?” He blurted out quickly, eyes piercing into mine and a cheeky grin speeding across his face. 
Unbelievable. 
This is definitely one of those situations you put on the list of “Never Going To Happen Scenarios”. 
I nodded slowly, “Um.. sure I guess.” 
There’s no way he will remember this tomorrow, no harm in playing along. 
His face immediately got brighter, “Here, give me your number!” He said, offering his phone out to me.
I stretched my hand out to grab his phone so I could give him my number, feeling slightly surprised when he happily placed it into my palm. 
I quickly tapped my number into the phone and handed it back to him just as the elevator dinged.
“Well, I’m glad you got home saf—,” I was sharply pulled out of the elevator by my wrist and into the long hallway of top level suites, “hey what are you doing!” I asked, completely in shock. 
“I told you I might get lost, didn’t you hear me?” He said, looking back briefly to flash me a grin. 
He pulled me further down the hallway in the direction of two large double doors, as we reached it he pulled a key card out of his pocket, never letting go of my wrist. 
“I really shouldn’t…” I trailed off as he swung open the door to his room. Being used by someone this famous and good looking would fuck up my life, surely.
“We can order room service and then I’ll get you a taxi home, okay?” He said without looking back, “I promise I won’t touch you Y/N, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. 
At that moment I made a conscious decision to stop resisting, it seemed as if he was getting genuinely hurt every time I said anything that suggested I wasn’t interested. And he clearly isn’t drunk enough to sleep with me anymore.
He must have sobered up in that taxi ride.
“Wow…” I gasped as I entered the large hotel suite, cutting off my mind babble “this is ridiculous.” 
The main lounge room was ten times bigger than my apartment, and it was only one out of what I could only assume was many rooms in this suite. The walls were a sheet white with gold trimmings, it looked like something out of a fairytale. The furniture an antique rustic feel, with so many side tables with flowers it felt like I was in a corner of Buckingham Palace. 
He chuckled at my innocent reaction and led me towards a large antique sofa in front of a large window, which was positioned beside a side table with a phone. 
I hesitated momentarily before taking a seat, Jiyong plopping down beside me and throwing his feet onto the coffee table in front of him. 
“What kind of food do you like?” He asked, flipping through the menu he just grabbed from the side table drawer. “they have everything here; pizza, Sushi… no not Sushi, that’s not good when you’re drunk… how about pancakes? Wait no… not that either…” he trailed off, continuing to babble but doing so in Korean instead. 
I only giggled at first, but going unnoticed only made this situation funnier, what the hell was even happening right now? 
I burst out laughing then, completely uncontrollably and totally distracted. I’ve either gone and lost my damn mind or I’m actually dreaming. That’s until I felt a smack on my arm. 
I looked up, halting my psychotic meltdown, to see Jiyong giving me half amused half annoyed look. 
“What the hell are you laughing at?” He asked, not understanding why I was manic at this point. 
“Um—” another fit of laughter threatening to escape my lips"—nothing just, this is just such a weird situation for me". After saying it out loud and seeing his face change to a look of just pure amusement, realty hit me hard. I needed a moment to myself here. 
I had already stood up before I realized I was moving and started walking away from the sofa where I had been sat beside Jiyong when I heard a voice from behind me, “Where are you going?” He asked. 
I spun around, “um…. The washroom…. ah, where is it?” I asked borderline flustered. 
“Down the hall to your left and it’s the first door on the right”, he said smiling at me, “I’ll just order one of everything on this menu since I can’t decide.” He finished, reaching for the phone beside him. 
I half stumbled towards the bathroom, feeling an overwhelming sense of desperation to get a grip on reality. I think the alcohol from work had dulled my senses until now. 
I opened the door to the unnecessarily huge bathroom and positioned myself in front of the sink. I ran cold water and let my hands sit beneath it, trying to regain some sense of balance.
I glanced up at myself in the mirror and saw an absolutely horrible sight. My face was a mess; shiny and uneven tones, lipstick almost worn off and eyeliner barely there. I reached into my handbag and pulled out the tools needed to fix the situation at hand. 
5 minutes of repair later and I couldn’t bring myself to look even half as decent as I wanted to be in this moment. Here in Jiyongs hotel suite, looking like trash, what the fuck am I doing. 
I shoved everything back in my bag and burst out of the bathroom before I could change my mind and run towards the front door. 
Turning the corner back to where Jiyong was, I saw him still sitting on the sofa cross legged and scrolling through his phone. 
I padded lightly towards him and sat as gracefully as I could manage onto the far end of the sofa. 
“Thank you for tonight by the way, I didn’t get a chance to say that before” Jiyong said, not looking up from his phone, “most people would make a scene, take pictures and exploit me for money to a tabloid, or something along those lines. But you—” he sighed and smiled up at me"— you took care of me, and you got me out without anyone seeing. I can’t thank you enough.“ He moved down the sofa so that he was knelt beside me and hugged me so tight I literally couldn’t breathe. 
For the next hour we talked and laughed, he told me about how Sengri challenged him to a drinking contest and that’s how he got so drunk, and how he escaped his bodyguards and found his way into the kitchen to get away from them. He just wanted some silence and he guessed that the rest of the alcohol hit him all at once and he just blacked out in there.
The room service came and we talked some more. 
After we finished eating Jiyong flipped the lights off and turned the tv on, connecting his laptop with the hdmi cord. 
"You have to watch this movie,” he said enthusiastically, “I can’t believe you’ve never fully watched a Korean movie!” 
He glanced back at me with a grin, “Trust me it’s really good! I promise!”
With that he pressed play and made his way back, plopping down beside me on the sofa. His arm swung around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, my cheeks flushed a deep red. 
“Is this okay?” He asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. 
I glanced up to nod quickly and then dropped my head down to rest it on his shoulder. 
Jiyong pulled me in so I was half laying down on his chest and hummed contently as he refocused on the movie starting in front of him. 
I was focused for a good ten minutes, but the comforting circles being drawn on my back had me drifting off to sleep before I could rationally assess the situation I was about to get myself into.