#but honestly that could just be that this had been my wind down after class all semester

[figueroths]

odds on kristen just ribbon dancing the ship to ground safely???

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Once again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

[mayghosts]

enemies to lovers with paige. buuuuut they were used to be best friends but something happened between them

-🎀

Snow Angel: Flurries (1) Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: How does a class project repair your broken friendship, and how does a friendship turn into something more?

(TOC)

Warnings: unhealthy alcohol usage,

AN: my life is not in shambles anymore! Heres to posting multiple times a week!! I can’t believe I'm writing ANOTHER series??? Hello???

January 7th, 2024:

Sitting in the back of your Friday afternoon astronomy class, you gazed out the window, letting your eyes drift across the snow covered campus. You always had a hard time focusing in this class, mainly due to the blonde who always sat a few rows away from you. However, today was different. Paige was missing from her regular seat, which you now knew was because of the basketball game against Gerogetown. Her absence seemed to have a similar effect on you as to when she was actually present. Instead of constantly staring at the back of her head and wondering what went wrong, you stared out the window and wondered over and over where did we go wrong?

(Flashback) October 31st, 2022:

“Paigeeeee, are you ready to go?” you giggled, stumbling into your dorm living room and wrapping your arms around her neck. You swayed side to side, already feeling the buzz of the shots you had taken with Nika a few minutes ago. “Jesus, Nika! How many shots did you give her!!” You could hear the concern laced in Paiges voice as she stabilized your hips and unwound your hands from her neck. You melted under her touch, god she was pretty.

You had never been much of a drinker, all throughout highschool when you and Paige would go out to parties she would drink and you would stay sober so you could drive home. However, this year had been hard on you, and lately drinking has been your saving grace after a long day.

You were absolutely hammered by the time the party started winding down. Stumbling around in your cowboy boots and someone elses costume cape, the last thing you remember was clinging to Paiges arm she gently helped you into the back of the Uber.

Waking up the next morning, your head was pulsing and your could already feel the hangover anxiety eating away at your stomach. Squinting your eyes at the light from your phone, you opened your texts. However, you were met with a big paragraph from Nika and a short but tense text from Azzi. Nothing from Paige. Scanning over the texts quickly, you immediately found yourself calling Paige.

Your call going straight to voice mail didn't help the queasy feeling in your stomache at all. 

Slipping out of bed, you dragged your feet into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth and wash your face. The bathroom tiles were icey cold, even with socks on your feet were freezing. As you scrubbed at the crusted on makeup, you racked your brain to try and remember the events of last night. You slid your slides on, making your way out of your dorm and down the hall to Paige and Nikas dorm. Knocking quietly, you felt the anxiety eating at you again. You heard shuffling before the door opened to reveal a clean and practice ready Nika.

“What are you doing here?” her harsh tone took you by surprise. You blinked absently at her for a moment, “uhh… I just wanted to ask what happened? Last night? And see if Paige is okay, my call to her didn’t go through and-” you could see her getting more irritated as you kept talking before she interrupted you. “She dosen’t want to see you right now okay? And neither do I, you really fucked up last night and honestly your behavior lately has been ridiculous. I need to go to practice and I don’t want to see you again until you can get your shit together.” Pushing past you, she walked straight into the stairwell, letting the dorm door slam behind her.

More confused than ever, you made your way back to your dorm and crawled right back into bed. You knew you weren't really the same person you were when you met them, but you never considered the change to be a bad thing. If anything you were more confident and more comfterable in your body. So what if you go out a few times a week. Honestly, you weren't even sure if that was what she was talking about. Regardless, you spent the next month trying to fix something you didn’t understand. You scoured the texts Azzi and Nika had sent you for any details or clues, but the most you could figure out was that you said something to Paige.

You sent countless texts until yu found out you were blocked. After that you tried emails, Instagram DMs, waiting outside classes, and even tried to befriend the media girl, just for a chance to talk to Paige. However, the blonde was basically untouchable. Between her teammates constantly watching you and her persistence with blocking you on every possible internet platform, you found yourself friendless and worst of all Paige-less.

January 7th, 2024:

You were pulled from your day dream as you heard your professor say your last name “… you will be working with…” he dug his hand around in the little bucket on his desk. You assumed this was for another partner project “Paige Bueckers!” shit.

Stepping out of the lecture hall, you felt a similar sense of dread in your stomach as you dragged your feet towards the dining hall. As you walked you pulled out your phone and started drafting a text to send to Paige. Standing in line for your smoothie, you were once again met with the brutal realization that your were stilll blocked. Guess we can just start on Monday?

[misasimagines]

all your fault / reader x Ren (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: just ren!

rating: sfw

warnings: tsundere. dreaded there was only one bed trope. reader is forced to watch shakma.

What started as an innocent, “My door is always open,” offer to a tired, gaming withdrawing Ren became a habit you had no desire to break. You walked him back to your place after his shift at the diner and after your classes let out. He would sneak out of Jabberwock to bring a new terrible horror movie to watch. You would find an excuse to back out of plans so you would be able to be home when he would likely stop by.

It was almost starting to feel like he lived there.

You hopped up on your bed next to him, leaning up against the wall and settling in. “What are we watching tonight?”

He so rarely looked excited, but there was a mischievous, almost manic enthusiasm in his eyes, “Shakma.”

You stared at him. 

He set his laptop up on his legs and opened up the movie site.

“The movie with the killer monkey?” You ventured.

“Yes. It’s so bad.” He was giddy. In his own way.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your blanket over your legs and accepted your fate. It wouldn’t be the first horrible, no good, very bad movie he’d made you watch.

The movie was worse than bad. The movie was so bad that the weather outside went from a cloudless night to a rolling thunderstorm. You jumped once at a particularly loud thunder clap and he had mocked you, asking if you were actually scared of the killer monkey.

“I’m not scared of the killer monkey,” you scoffed, “I’m scared of my shitty cathedral room getting flooded by the storm.”

Ren was too invested in the evil baboon killing med students to react with much nuance, “That would suck.”

The rest of the movie passed (thankfully, it seemed like it would never end) and Ren enjoyed every second of the awful film. You could appreciate his excitement, it was cute to see him so focused and invested. The light of the laptop screen flashed against his face, illuminating his eyes and accentuating his handsome features. Honestly, most of the movie you were imagining snuggling up to him, maybe using his shoulder as a pillow, and that’s what kept you from going completely insane from the terrible direction of the “plot.” You knew if you actually tried to do anything like that, he’d complain about harassment and whine until you apologized and it might just ruin everything you had with him.

You respected his boundaries, anyway, and knew that your fantasies would go unfulfilled. You were happy enough just being friends with him, getting to know about his bad taste in movies, opening whatever links he sent you to replenish his game stamina, and even starting a game or two yourself because he wanted the referral credits. Ah, the lengths you went to for this ungrateful boy.

The credits rolled and he pulled out his phone immediately, logging in to one of his mobile games to collect dailies. It must have been past midnight already. He was like a living alarm for you. You knew what hour it was based on him opening up whatever game on his phone, they all had different reset times, and this one was midnight.

Stretching your legs, you climbed up on your knees and leaned over his legs, bracing yourself against the foot-board to look out your window. The storm hadn’t let up, and you watched a torrent of rain rage against your window. The trees bowed outside from the sheer force of the wind and as you watched, a flash of lighting touched down, turning your room almost white from the brightness.

“What are you doing?” He asked, distracting you from your inspection.

Still bent over on your knees, you answered, “I don’t think the rain is going to let up.” You pushed yourself back and sat back down next to him.

If the laptop had a brighter color than black on the screen, you would have seen him blushing. For once, he was lucky, and the credits had given away to a black pause screen that kept you in the dark about his reaction. “Great,” he complained instead. “I’ll have to walk home in the dark and during a storm.”

You frowned, “Maybe it’ll be really bad for now, and then lessen up in a bit if you want to wait?”

He was quiet, and you knew he wasn’t doing anything important in the game since he just opened up the character menu, checked their stats, and then swiped to another one. He knew all of that information already by heart, he was just distracting himself and trying to appear casual. “Don’t you have an early morning tomorrow?”

You did, actually, and it surprised you he remembered it. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he scowled at you before you could answer.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t ignore everything you say…” He pouted.

You bit back a smile, “Just 90% of it?” You teased.

“...40%.” He answered.

“Aw, so everything about how you really should treat Haru more nicely you ignore?” You poked his shoulder.

He turned his head away, “Now I’m ignoring you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and fell back onto your pillow, propping your knees up so you didn’t kick him. You were nice to him, even when he didn’t deserve it. “I do have an early morning tomorrow, but I don’t want you to drown out there or get struck by lightning or something, so I won’t kick you out.”

Ren set down his phone and steadied his laptop, more unnecessary movements to stall for time. 

“You don’t have to stay,” You promised him, softening your voice as to not startle him, “I have an umbrella somewhere around here if you’d be more comfortable going home.” It wasn’t your intention to push him or to try to break any boundaries he had very clearly set. Ren wasn’t a… touchy, emotional guy. He was stubborn, he was pessimistic, and he had a very small social battery. In the time you had known him, you knew he didn’t like casual touches, he didn’t respond well to verbal affection, and he could barely tolerate even calling you a friend. You understood these things and you would never want to put him in a situation where he felt obligated to put up with something that made him uncomfortable.

Another minute of silence passed, and you rolled to your side and prepared to search for that umbrella. He spoke up before you could stand fully, “You don’t expect me to sleep on the floor or something, do you?”

You bounced lightly back down on the bed. Did he really want to stay? “No…” but you only had the one bed.

He pushed his laptop further away from him, expression fully readable. He was uncertain, torn between the discomfort of walking home while the storm blew branches off of the trees and the discomfort of sleeping in a comparatively warm bed. With you. His friend who he couldn’t stop going to almost every day. Who he spent most of his time with, who didn’t run his social battery to empty, and who never tried to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You had just watched a truly despicable movie with him, not complaining, not nagging him to pick something else. You never asked for any kind of payment for your company and care. 

Would it really be that bad?

His cheeks flushed again at his own line of thinking and he looked out the window to avoid you seeing it. Your room was dark, only a few candles lighting up small radiuses around the room. You wouldn’t have even really been able to see it if he had stayed facing you. 

You thought carefully. You really didn’t want to send him out in the rain, and you were worried that he was going to do just that if you didn’t fix the situation quickly. What was one night on your own cold, rickety, dusty floor? It would just be one of the many things you dealt with for him,  “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor-”

He groaned, “Don’t be a martyr. It’s fine, we always sit on your bed to watch movies anyway. How different can it be?”

~~~

You took some time snuffing out your candles, changing into your most normal, modest, and not embarrassing pajamas possible. He had left a bag in your room one day that had a pair of spare joggers and a t-shirt from when he had to change last minute for work, and you had generously thrown them in with your laundry after he forgot them. One win for Ren tonight not having to sleep in jeans!

You thought it might be the only win, given the absolutely devastated look he had on his face staring down at your narrow bed.

He was not small, despite the closed off way he carried himself. His shoulders were relatively broad and his legs were long. You imagined that alone he’d feel squished in your bed. With you as well? He would be channeling the experience of a sardine. You considered again offering to sleep on your floor, but your sock-clad feet could feel the cold seeping in from the floorboards and you shuddered to think of sleeping down there.

“Wall side or door side?” You offered, trying to lighten the mood.

He frowned, “Wall side, so you don’t push me off onto the floor.” He climbed in, pulling the covers over him and keeping his face pointed at the wall. He fit exactly, with no room at the top or bottom to stretch out any further. 

You climbed in after him, plugging in your phone and blowing out the last candle on your nightstand before pulling the covers up. It felt strange. The weight of his body dipped your mattress in a way that you weren’t used to. The normally cold chill of your room seemed lessened with his additional body heat under the covers. You imagined the sensation of an invisible barrier between you two, keeping you from settling fully on your bed. One of your shoulders was resting on air.

There was silence in your room, cut only by the constant of the rain outside, the wind making your old walls moan and crack, and the occasional distant boom of thunder. It went on so long, you weren’t sure if he was already asleep or just determined to pretend to be. You were about to accept the crick you’d have in your neck when he spoke up.

“I can’t move over anymore than I already am,” he sounded annoyed, but the kind of annoyed he was when you brought him lunch and he was upset about you bringing a rice bowl instead of noodles. The kind of annoyed where he would have said thank you and been grateful, if only he weren’t cursed to be so terribly bratty.

“It’s fine! I can scoot over more,” you assured, sliding over a few more inches until you had to flex your arm to keep it from falling limp over the side of the bed.

Ren raised up on his elbow to inspect you and scowled, “You’re gonna fall off, so just-” he reached across you and grabbed your arm to pull you back up on the bed and froze.

His face turned red and you assumed yours matched from the scorching heat you felt in your cheeks. Ren was leaning over you, holding your arm, in the process of pulling you closer to him, and his face was closer to you than it ever had been. He could have lowered a few more inches and kissed you- If, big on the if, this situation were romantic and not potentially traumatizing for him. You hoped if he ever got this close to you it would be without an expression of such embarrassment and terror.

He dropped you and flipped over immediately, pulling the covers up to his ears and facing the wall, “Whatever, you can fall off if you're so determined to. I can't stop you.” 

You took a slow, careful breath to calm your racing heart. The feeling of his hand on your arm lingered until the draft stole it away. You scooted over just enough to fit on your own bed and responded, “I’ll try not to.” 

A few beats passed and he did not try to talk to you.

“Goodnight, Ren,” you mumbled, turning away from him and closing your eyes.

“...night…” he mumbled right back.

Ah, what a pair.

~~~

You started shivering in the middle of the night. He flopped over onto his back and glared at you. How was he ever going to sleep when you were shaking like a Chihuahua mere inches away from him?

“Cut it out,” he grumbled quietly.

You didn't respond and the pathetic shivers didn't cease. 

He pushed himself up and squinted at you in the darkness. The curtains were too translucent to keep out much moonlight, and he could see that your eyes were shut tight and you took slow, even breaths in your sleep. Ren frowned. It was cold here, it was no wonder that you were shivering so much.

He laid back down and stared at your ceiling. Did you spend every night like this? Whenever he left you to go home to Jabberwock, did you climb up into your rickety bed and freeze yourself to sleep? What a martyr. You should have demanded to live anywhere but a dusty, moth eaten cathedral.

He turned to look at you again.

But if you lived anywhere else, would he ever have been able to be here with you? If you lived with those nepotism babies in Frostheim, for example, he'd probably have to deal with Kaito and Luka hanging around all the time. Or worse, Jin demanding your presence at all hours of the night. He couldn't stand watching you disappear into that rich bastard’s room.

If you lived in Vagastrom, you'd what? Live in the trunk of some car and he'd have to hope no one tried to use that car in a monster truck rally before you got out of it?  Sinostra, if you didn't get eaten by Taiga, who knows where Romeo would keep you? And those ghouls in Mortkranken, who's to say they wouldn't do some freaky experiments on you?

Of course, this was not to even consider if you lived in Jabberwock. Even with you so close by, he'd never have a chance to actually be alone with you. Haru and Towa would take up all your time and you'd help out so much you'd been too tired to hang out with him. Not…not that he needed to be alone with you or anything. 

God. He sounded like such a creep even thinking that. If thought crimes were a thing, he'd be in prison. 

You continued pitifully shivering next to him, your hands curled up into fists you held close to your chest.

He pulled the sheets up to cover your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. You felt like ice, so much that he risked carefully touching you again to confirm. Yep. Prison. But also, were you going to die of frostbite in bed next to him? He could just groan to imagine that dweeb Ritsu finding a way to implicate him in your death. Or worse, charging a ridiculous fee to defend him in court. 

There was no way around it then. He scooted closer. He was only doing this to avoid the court fees. He tugged his pillow closer to yours. And it's not like you hadn't touched before. He laid down, slowly, until his chest was against your back. You'd hugged him once- well, you hugged his arm. Because you fell and grabbed onto him for balance. But it counted. Whatever.

Ren’s heart raced as he slowly wrapped an arm around you and placed a hand over your curled fists. It didn't mean anything. There wasn’t anything significant in the way your hands felt in his or how you somehow smelled like the most comforting thing he could imagine. He rested his head on his pillow and felt you slowly relax, your shivering dissipating as he warmed you up. It was like you were melting, your curled up form unwinding delicately until you fit against him like you belonged there.

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to keep from breathing too heavily and waking you up. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale- without meaning to, he started matching your rhythm. However awake and grumpy he felt moments before, now he felt like he could pass out and never wake up again. Just as long as you stayed there in bed with him…

No, there was no way. He'd just have to wake up before you did and never let you know he did this and then it would be like nothing ever happened. It didn't matter how good it felt or how there was a little sliver of his heart that ached to do this every night. He bit back a groan of annoyance. 

This was obviously your fault.

~~~

Sunlight filtered through your curtains, illuminating your room in a soft but insistently bright glow. Your phone alarm went off a few seconds later and you reached up to turn it off.

After the rough and cold start to the night, you felt certain you'd sleep horribly, but as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your legs, you thought you got the best night of sleep you'd had in a long time. You sat up in bed, pleasantly cozy and unable to keep a small smile off of your lips.

Ren was already up, shoving his night clothes into his bag.

“Good morning,” you managed mid yawn.

He made a noise at you.

“Sleep okay?” You asked, “Sorry if you were uncomfortable.” He seemed… off and you felt guilty that he had such a bad night when you felt so invigorated.

“It was fine…” he responded noncommittally before straightening up and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. 

You nodded, your good mood hanging by a thread. 

He gave you a look you didn't see as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pawed for your phone to check your texts. He wanted to tell you a number of things he couldn't even let himself think. So he just grabbed his things and made his way to the door as he checked his own phone. “I have a bunch of raids tonight back to back.” He announced.

“Hmm, okay,” You acknowledged.

He frowned. Invite him back.

You were too tired to get it.

“Ugh, I'll be back tonight. You're not busy, right?”

You shook your head.

He frowned again, opened the door, and stood in the doorway. There were so many ways to end this better. He turned to look at you, your covers puddled in your lap, your cheek baring the red crease mark of your pillow, your eyes still foggy with sleep. He could say anything, do anything better than just saying “bye” and closing the door behind him.

You smiled softly at him, “I'll see you tonight,”

His cheeks felt hot, “Yeah. Bye.” He stepped out and shut the door behind him, that picture of you sitting in bed and smiling at him burned in his brain. He'd be able to think of nothing else all day. Ren checked his weather app. More rain tonight.

He started off back towards Jabberwock. It would be too much of a hassle to grab an umbrella and you would freeze without him… he scowled at his own thoughts as he trudged home. This was really all your fault.

[katebishopshands]

could i request kate bishop x spidergirl!reader with mutual pining? maybe where R comes back from a mission badly hurt and they wind up confessing to each other

This is !! So !! Cute !!!

Love love love this idea !!!

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Caught in the Web

Kate Bishop/Spidergirl!Reader

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“Ah shit”

You could feel the blood from your nose leaking through your mask, smearing it all over your face. You just needed to get back to your apartment without being seen by the rest of New York and then you could rip the mask off and tend to your wounds.

It could’ve been worse, genuinely. A busted nose, split lip and a couple of bumps and bruises here and there. You had had worse. You recalled the time you had to explain to your parents as to how exactly you broke your arm. Or the time a building blew up behind you while fighting someone and you were covered in burns and scabs from head to toe. The countless concussions and black eyes. Accelerated healing could only do so much sometimes. Covering up your side gig as the cities friendly neighborhood spider girl was getting, difficult to say the least.

One of your webs connected with the wall of your apartment building and you sighed with relief. Relief was in sight as you landed on your fire escape. Your mind wandered to the phone you had left on your desk when you went out patrolling for the night.

Without a doubt there was probably a million missed texts and phonecalls. Plenty of them from Kate. Your sweet friend Kate, the girl you had been hopelessly in love with since you met her in a freshman year intro to creative writing class. She had sat down next to you and given you one of her famous million dollar smiles. And you have essentially be inseparable ever since. She was honestly the prettiest thing you had ever seen. Dark hair, crystalline blue eyes, full lips and lashes, and a million beauty marks decorating her face. You could’ve swore you could sit down and count them for days and never get bored. You missed her, you thought. You should call her once you get yourself cleaned up.

Gently opening your bedroom window, you entered quietly, not wanting to disturb your downstairs neighbors or anyone else you shared the fire escape with. After shutting the window just as quietly as you opened it you took a deep sigh before reaching for your mask, ready to relieve the uncomfortable sticky feeling of blood on your face.

The whizz of an arrow next to your head stopped your motions. Before it had even collided with the wall behind you, you had webbed the nearest heavy object into your hands. Some antique bookend that your mom had SWORN would come in handy at some point, and you guessed now she was right. You readied yourself, ready to put up a fight. Nothing was coming between you and the date you had with your bed.

Your bedside table light flicked on, revealing none other but Kate Bishop in her superhero get up, bow drawn and arrow pointed directly at your head. You swallowed nervously, knowing Kate had deadly aim with her bow.

“Kate?!” You were shocked at her standing in your bedroom.

“Who are you? “ she questioned you. She spoke in a register lower than her own, probably as some sort of intimidation tactic. Cute. You started to lower the bookend.

“Oh my god spidergirl knows my name..” she dropped her tough girl act for a moment, letting the excitement take over her face.

“Not the point, why are you in this apartment?” She questioned you again, taking a step towards you.

“Okay okay!!” You panicked a little. You set the bookend on your windowsill, your hands up in a surrender.

Deciding to rip the bandaid off as quick as possible, you reach for your mask, pulling it off in one swift tug. Your hair falls around your face, the loose bun you had it in sitting limply on your neck. You sniff slightly.

Kate’s bow clatters to the ground, the arrow she had loaded rolling to your wall . Her mouth hangs slightly agape.

“Oh my god-“ she begins to pace your room, her hands going up to tug at her hair.

“Oh my fucking god”

“-Kate” you go to comfort her

“You’re fucking spider girl??” She looks at you frantically , eyes searching your face.

You put your hands on her arms, holding her still as she looked over you. Her thumb goes to the drying blood that’s below your nose and smeared on your lips.

“You’re spider girl and you’re..you’re hurt” she goes to touch your split brow, you wince slightly. A blush creeping on your cheeks as she runs her fingers over the other injuries in your face. You’ve never seen this look on her face. Her brows are scrunched together, a pretty pout on her lips. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve sworn she was sad.

“Kate I can explain everything I just-“

“Sit down, I need your peroxide”

“Kate can’t we just talk for a minute?”

“Sit” she commands, and you obey. You sit on your bed, hands folded awkwardly in your lap as Kate leaves for your bathroom to go find your first aid supplies.

“Why uh..why were you in my apartment…in the dark?” You ask her. You can hear rummaging around the cabinet. You begin to take your hair out of the bun, slowly working the knots out with your fingers.

“You hadn’t responded to my calls…I got worried”

“So you broke into my house?” You scoff.

Kate appears from the bathroom, an array of first aid supplies in her hands.

“It technically wasn’t breaking in. There’s a key under your mat” she sits on your bed, spreading everything across the quilt. She ends the conversation at that, beginning on cleaning your face, freeing it of the now dry and itchy blood that was caked on your face and lips.

She’s so pretty. Your hands begin to clam up and your heart rate escalates. If you didn’t know any better you’d think she can hear it from outside your body. She continues her first aid. Swiping ointment on your cuts and applying bandages.

“Where’d you learn how to do first aid?” You question, watching her work.

“Clint, he told me I did a shit job the first time I did it myself” she chuckles slightly to herself . You should’ve known.

When you had met Kate she was nothing but a pretty girl archery captain who had dreams of becoming an Avenger. But a lot had changed since then and she was now almost there, becoming the protégé of the world famous Hawkeye. According to Kate’s calculations she thinks Clint is “ready to pass down the title”.

“And that should do it for the face, take your suit off and I’ll do the rest” Kate’s worried. You can see it in her eyes. Normally not one for serious conversations, now thrust into something that was life altering.

You reach for the clasps of your suit, only stopping for a moment when you think about the situation at hand.

“Kate I’m sorry for keeping this from you” you feel bad. Kate had been so open and honest with her superhero journey, so why hadn’t you?

“How long..how long have you been Yknow..a superhero?” Kate avoids your eyes. It crushes you a little.

“Um, about a year?” You cringe hearing it come out of your mouth.

Kate hits you. You wince.

“A whole year? Are you kidding me?? Oh my god” she blows up on you.

“A whole year and you didn’t tell me you’re Spider Girl?” She puts her hands on your thighs , you tense up at her touch.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder! You had Clint, and the Ronan and the Rockefeller tree! You had a huge couple months!” It was true. Kate did have the biggest couple months of her life, and what kind of friend would you be if you made it all about yourself.

“Yeah but then..that means you were going through all of this..” Kate gestures to your predicament, “by yourself..”

Tears well up in your eyes for a minute.

“I just wanted to keep you safe, I couldn’t live with myself knowing you got hurt because of who I am”

They’re rolling freely now, Kate reaches a hand to wipe them.

“You’re an idiot” she half laughs half cries.

“I know I am” you say laughing with her, and leaning into her touch. It’s welcomed.

“I literally put on a ninja suit and saved a dog on live television and almost died I don’t know how many times, trust me I get hurt enough just being me”

You both laugh at that. She was right, she had done some stupid things in the time

Kate keeps her hand on your cheek as you both sit. Nothing but you, her, and the sound of the cars on the street below your apartment. She’s looking at you with something in her eye, something you haven’t seen before.

Observing your eyes and lips, your eyebrows and the cuts that she mended just moments ago. Kate takes her hand off of your cheeks and leans back slightly.

“I think I’m in love with you?” She says, almost as a realization to herself. She gives a giant sigh as the words leave her mouth, like she’s been holding onto them for who knows how long.

“And I- I want to be there for you when you’re hurt, and fix your cuts and ice your black eyes and I never want secrets between us again.” She’s rambling at this point, fidgeting with her fingers. She’s back to holding her breath.

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, not able to understand if this is a dream or real life. Maybe you had gotten thrown into a wall a little TOO hard during your fight.

Kate’s eyes flick up to yours nervously. Watery blue eyes meeting yours. She bounces her leg off the bed. You take her hands into yours.

“I would..like that a lot” you smile at her.

“Really?” She swallows nervously. You nod your head at her.

Kate nearly tackles you as she lurches accross the bed, kissing you.

Kate Bishop is kissing you. The girl who lent you her fun stationary when your forgot yours in class. The girl who you had spent hours up in her apartment working on the world’s worst projects and presentations. The girl who you nervously watched on TV whenever she was on some crazy Avengers business.

You sigh into her, kissing her back. She tastes like whatever energy drink she had had earlier to give her as much energy as she had in the moment. Kate pulls away, laying on top of you.

“I think this could really work..you and me?” She’s giddy now.

“I think so too” you say tucking a loose strand of hair from her ponytail behind her ear. Kate inspects you again, playing with your hair . She’s smiling slightly, biting her lip as she looks down at you.

“So how does it work..Yknow..the web thing?” She’s sitting up, grabbing at your hands.

“Oh my god we’re dating for not even a minute and you’re already asking about my most personal secrets” you feign annoyance as Kate giggles at you a little.

“What can I say, I have a thirst for knowledge….girlfriend” she smiles proudly as she says the word ‘girlfriend’.

“Whatever you say…girlfriend” you grin back at her.

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The is was SO much fun to write!!! I hope I did your request justice!! Send me more requests and questions I love the ideas you guys have!!

[theemporium]

hi king!! could i get a uuuuhhh…

"I'll do anything for a woman with a knife."

🩷 w/luke? xoxo

we tried something different with a wee historical fiction/prince au🤠they are not my forte but i wanted to try challenging myself. thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

22. "I'll do anything for a woman with a knife."

.

Luke had always found the royal festivities to be tedious and long winded. 

Maybe it was because they very rarely focused on him, with most guests taking interest in his parents or his older brothers—Quinn especially, being next in line to the throne. Or maybe—just fucking maybe—he found them tedious and long winded and boring because they were. 

He wasn’t even sure what the reasoning behind this one was, if he was being completely honest. Though, there was never usually a good reason for many of the high class patrons of the kingdom to deny the chance to be invited into the castle or flaunt their pretty fabrics. But Luke had to assume this one was semi-important if people from neighbouring kingdoms—people of importance—were making the journey. 

Still, it did little to make him feel anything but utter boredom as he did his rounds. He flashed the guests a few smiles, usually letting Jack or Quinn take over the conversation. And once he had shown his face for a socially appropriate amount of time, he found himself sneaking off in the shadows to find something to occupy himself before his father’s expected speech. 

Usually, he would find himself sneaking into the kitchens to see if the staff would slip him a few desserts before dinner or some snacks to entertain him with. 

This time around, Luke didn’t even make it to the secret corridor that led down the kitchen before he was pressed against the wall, his breath knocked out of his lungs and something cold pressed against his neck.

“Shit,” you hissed, only your eyes visible to the boy as you glanced over his face. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through him that didn’t have him thinking straight. Maybe it was the excitement for something different to happen at this ball. 

Or maybe Luke just lacked common sense and self-preservation because the only response he managed after a random woman dressed in all black with a knife pressed against his throat was, “pick the wrong prince?” 

You blinked. “You matched the description.” 

“So…I was the right prince?” He asked, something akin to amusement in his voice and it threw you off.

“Do you have your life threatened often?” You questioned, partially rhetorical because a part of you was genuinely interested in the answer. “You seem very calm.” 

“I just assumed if you wanted me dead, I would have been dead already,” he replied honestly, making no move to try and escape your hold. He had a feeling you would bury that knife in him before he even got the chance to take a step.

“I could still kill you if you don’t listen to what I say,” you told him, and he knew better than to question how truthful you were with that promise. 

But still, Luke was young and sheltered and spent far too much of his time trapped in the castle, learning how to be a prim and proper gentleman. There was something thrilling about you and, for reasons his own brain couldn’t comprehend, he didn’t want to lose your attention just yet.

“I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife,” he retorted, his lips twitching upwards when he noticed your eyes widen slightly in response. 

“It’s like you have a death wish,” you grumbled, the edge of your blade digging a little further into his skin.

“So if I wasn’t your target, who was?” He asked casually, like you were two acquaintances catching up. Like there wasn’t the possibility of someone turning the corner and finding the two of you. Like there weren't guards already starting to notice his absence. 

“None of your business,” you snapped, your eyes narrowed in annoyance. He wondered if you were contemplating whether or not he was worth killing and adding the extra hassle for.

“It seems like my business when you have a blade to my throat,” Luke added cheekily. 

“You have no sense of survival,” you told him like it was an insult. 

He grinned. “Perks of being a prince, I assume.” 

“I don’t have time for this,” you grumbled and, in a blink of his eye, you were already three paces away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

He pushed down the uneasy feeling in his chest the second you were no longer pressed against him, the second your eyes were no longer on him. “Will I see you again?” 

You paused, tilting your head to the side. He couldn’t see your mouth but he had the strongest sense that you were smirking beneath your mask. 

“Depends what kind of enemies you plan to make, Your Highness.”

.

[digitalro]

After curfew

monoma x reader

The summer breeze was cool that night, you and Monoma were sneaking back into the dorms from the training gym.

This started when a couple of weeks ago, the two of you managed to somehow sneak out to the gym at around the same time.

To avoid snitching on each other, you struck a deal, both of you would sneak out and use the place after hours but neither of you will speak about it.

"Sorry my words were beyond your brain capacity. As expected of a class A student. Let me explain it to you in a language you understand.”

If there was something impressive about Monoma, it’s how he’s held his one-sided beef with class A since you were first years at U.A academy.

You sighed and told him to go on, having had enough of his bullshit already and decided to close your eyes and pray lightning strikes him then and there.

He smiled then cleared his throat, “OOH OOH AH AH!” He mimicked a monkey, jumping around you until it irked you enough to bump his shoulders.

Satisfied with your reaction, he laughed as he got pushed from the path.

Sometimes it took all the willpower in you to not straight up snitch to an instructor, even if it meant getting yourself in trouble because that’s how much he got on your nerves.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket. “That’s it, I’ve held out for too long you polly pocket. I’m telling Mr. Aizawa.”

He laughed, coming back on track and walking backwards to face you. “Tell him what? that YOU have been training after curfew?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Right as you were going to retort, you suddenly tripped over something and fell face first. You grunted with your face still on the grass.

Once he made sure you were fine, he pointed at you. "Ha! You can't even walk righ-" his sentence was cut off by you pulling him by the ankle, causing him to slip and fall as well.

He hissed and looked back at you but before he could open his big mouth, you placed one hand over his mouth. His eyes widened, you used your free hand to point towards the figure you had just seen in the distance.

It was one of the instructors patrolling around the dorms. They were far enough and barely within hearing distance, but you were still at risk of being seen.

He then acknowledged what was going on and crouched further, getting closer to you.

While the two of you were shuffling around, he accidentally stepped on your hand that was on the ground. You slightly quirked up and let out a shriek that was quickly muffled by his hand on your mouth, simultaneously dragging you onto him.

You glared up at the blond and used both of your hands to lift his off, “I will feed you Mineta’s shit if it’s the last thing I do.”

He scoffed out a laugh. "I would've loved doing it on purpose but I promise I didn't mean to." He whispered, looking down at you. It was then when you noticed how close the two of you were.

It seemed he had too because he suddenly felt a pang in his heart, you looked pretty under the moonlight. The distance between you suddenly made him conscious.

Of course though, he would rather die than admit that or acknowledge whatever he just felt. "What? are you taking in how beautiful I am?"

You thought for a second, he honestly wasn't wrong. Him with the moon behind him gave you a different look on him. His hair was gently blown by the wind and blue eyes looked calmer than ever, his cocky smile that he wore strangely seemed rather beautiful than annoying.

The longer you stared, the more you realized he wasn’t too bad of a looker, and the more nervous he got. It was fun to you. "Sort of. You're pretty when you shut that built-in bullshit radio of yours."

"Huhhh? You don't- what are you saying. I am gorgeous but- shut up! And I DON'T have a built in radio!" He stammered, barely above a whisper, unable to form coherent sentences.

Although it was dark, you could definitely tell his face reddened a thousand shades.

You laughed lowly then turned your head and rose up enough to peek over the grassy top, praying you were just paranoid and the two of you wouldn’t be found out, and luck was surely on your side that night.

You heaved a sigh of relief and got back to your previous position, only this time you misplaced your foot and ended up falling back, but not before grabbing Monoma by the shirt and tumbling down the little hill with him.

He instinctively grabbed your hand that you pulled him with and guarded your head with his other hand.

The both of you landed at the bottom, tangled and messy. He was spread on the ground with you on top, one of your legs on his stomach while your head was down on the grass beside his.

Neither of you moved for a while. All you could focus on was the sound of the little river flowing behind you.

“I know I’m irresistible but you can get off of this free bed now your majesty.” He attempted a snarky remark to build back his confidence and steady his voice, only faltering a little.

But he made no effort whatsoever to actually get you off of him. Frankly, he didn’t find it too bad being there with you, but he also didn’t want you being the first to say anything.

“Shut up.” You groaned, rolling completely off of him, but your hand still remained in his. Neither one of you dared to remove it.

And there the two of you laid sprawled on the grass doing nothing but catching your breaths for a couple of minutes.

You turned your head to look at him. You've never seen him so serene, doing nothing but heaving.

He looked back at you and quirked an eyebrow.

"You act so bold for being such a flustered wittle princess."

The blond didn't instantly have a witty comeback but just started laughing instead.

“Me? Flustered! Ha, you’re funny. That’s why your hand’s still in mine, you germ.” He teased, even though he was more than partially responsible for that and the fact he actually liked it.

You retracted it from his newly loosened grip. “How could I when it was oh so securely grasped between your delicate fingers.”

He scoffed humorously, turning to look back up at the sky. "You're so annoying. It makes me laugh, looks like you actually have a talent for something." He said in between chuckles. "Dimwit."

You couldn't help but start laughing too. "That's why I won the team battle and you didn’t. Shitface."

And every little thing that night seemed to share the same humorous sentiment.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

first post on here! hi. this is my second work ever, sorry if the writing’s wonky ^^.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 25

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“How was coffee with Tori?” Dr. Miller asked when I walked into the living room where he sat in sweatpants with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in front of him.

I looked down at the set up and he grinned at me from behind a pair of glasses. “What’s this?” I asked.

Dr. Miller rose to his feet and approached where I stood. “I thought we could have a drink to celebrate you moving in here.”

I smiled at him and then let it fade.

“You’re having second thoughts,” He suspected.

“No.” I truly wasn’t. Even after bumping into Christine. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ruin this. I just..”

Dr. Miller had his hands on his hips. His eyes were locked on mine. “You can tell me if it’s too soon.”

“I bumped into your ex,” I blurted out, “Christine. I scooted into LL Bean next to the coffee shop and she called out my name and approached me.”

“Well, that’s great. I’m sure she had some colorful things to say about me.” Dr. Miller shook his head and looked down. He ran a hand across his beard and sighed.

“She said she left you because of your secrets,” I went on.

“She left me?” He smirked but let it fade.

“It’s in the past, I don’t care who left who. She just kept mentioning your secrets and told me she wanted to warn me.” I held his stare, “And then I went to the ATM and I have over fifty thousand dollars in there. I had six the other day.”

“I put money in your account,” Dr. Miller admitted, “And I paid your rent so your friend wouldn’t feel stuck.. And so you wouldn’t feel bad about moving in here.”

“Why did you put that money in my account?”

“Because I have it,” Dr. Miller said simply. “And I want you to be financially.. comfortable.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

He wandered back to the couch and sat down, looking like the wind had been taken out of him. “I probably shouldn’t have.”

“I sound ungrateful,” I said aloud, taking a deep breath and trying to take a deep breath.

“You’re overwhelmed by the whole thing,” Dr. Miller corrected, “And I don’t blame you.I asked you to move in. I padded your bank account. I’m getting ahead of myself.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then stopped myself because I didn’t know what to say. There was a drawn out pause and neither of us spoke for what felt like ten seconds.

“What if we take a step back?” Dr. Miller asked. “Slow this down a bit.” He glanced at the empty champagne glasses. “It’ll give us both time to think.. reevaluate.”

I didn’t want to reevaluate. “Dr. Miller.” I shook my head.

“I do have secrets,” he admitted. “I have secrets.” Dr. Miller nodded to himself and looked down, folding his hands together as he leaned forward. “Since I’ve met you my whole mission has been to protect you.. and to make it impossible for you to want to leave me because for the first time in my life I'm finding myself falling in love.. with you.” He added, “But, I would never try to force you to stay. If it’s too much, it’s too much. If you get tired of this relationship, then you get tired of it. I can’t make you stay.. but I’m trying my damnedest to try to keep you.”

Again, I opened my mouth to speak but I was speechless. It had become downright impossible to maintain one emotion; one thought process. I wanted to cry and fall into his arms, but I also wanted to know why the hell Christine would go out of her way to issue me a warning.

“I’m falling for you, too,” I told him. I didn’t have to convince myself of that. “You’re honestly all I ever think about and I’m scared of how fast I’m falling for you.”

“That’s why you should take a break from this for a few days,” Dr. Miller said, making me nearly choke on my next set of words. “Get some space, think clearly.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” The thought was too much. I would feel a certain level of devastation if this was just suddenly over right when I thought it was getting started; right when we were on the cusp of moving to the next phase of our relationship - regardless of the damn timeline of it.

“No.” He said right away, rising to his feet. Dr. Miller paced the room and immediately pulled me into a hug. He held me firmly against him for a long moment and sighed. “I just feel like I’m rushing you; like I’m rushing this. And it’s pushing you away. I don’t want to do that.” When he pulled back so we were face to face I felt like crying, but I didn’t.

I nodded, but I didn’t want to do what he was suggesting. I knew once I walked out of that house and left the gates that I would start to sob. All of this would get the best of me and I’d spend the night contemplating every little facet of my life. I’d get no sleep. I’d have bags under my eyes. I’d wake up on a Saturday with absolutely nothing to do and not enough courage to call Dr. Miller. And all of my questions would fester in my brain until they took over completely. In other words, I’d be a mess.

“If you don’t want the money, you can wire it back to my account,” he added. “I’m sorry.” He put a hand on my face. “Clear your head. Think this through.”

“And then what?” I asked softly, looking into his solemn eyes. I knew mine mirrored his.

“You know the code,” Dr. Miller reminded me, “You have a key. Nothing will be stopping you from coming back.”

I continued to look up at him before eying the glasses of champagne. My eyes then met his again and I kissed him once on the lips. He never closed his eyes. Neither did I. This wasn’t what this night was supposed to be. Dr. Miller had planned a celebration but I just had to run into his ex-wife and let her get into my head. And then I go and complain about fifty thousand dollars being in my bank account.

You weren’t complaining, I reminded myself. You were asking a very valid, important question. One which he answered right away. Who am I to let Christine rain on our parade? Who was I to make Dr. Miller feel like a bad guy because of his ex’s words?

He looked down and locked his fingers through mine. Dr. Miller began walking me toward the front door and I felt the lump develop in my throat. My stomach knotted for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to go. My Prince Charming was giving me the world and I was in the process of denying it - or at least thinking about denying it.

Why? I asked myself. Because of some woman? Who’s to say she isn’t lying to get back at him? Or because she still loves him?

I didn’t immediately reach for the door knob, but I knew this was Dr. Miller’s suggestion and so I tried to respect that. I opened the door and let out a deep sigh as I did.

The cold air might as well have slapped me across the face and Dr. Miller leaned an arm on the door frame.

“Be careful.” He looked at me intently. “I’ll get you to your car. Call me when you get home.”

Home. Wasn’t this home? It was supposed to be home. Dr. Miller had referred to this as ‘home’ so many times in reference to both of us. It was like a dagger through the heart.

“Okay.” I gave a nod.

“Come back any time. You don’t even have to call,” he added, “But I’d prefer if you did.”

I swallowed hard, not at all having the words to say to him.

Dr. MIller trailed me out to my Mazda, barefoot on the frozen ground. I was freezing so I was sure he was but he didn’t show it. When I got to my car I was hoping he would ask me to stay, or pull me to him and kiss me hard. It was all I would need to make all of these melancholy feelings disappear. But he didn’t. He played fair - and I didn’t like it.

“I’ll call you soon,” I told him, looking up into his big brown eyes as I slunk in behind the wheel.

He tipped his mouth up in a half-smile and then it faded. “Please be careful.”

“I will.”

When my legs were tucked inside the vehicle, he gently closed the door and I started the engine. Even though he said we weren’t, I felt like if I left right then that it could be the end of it - all of it. My dreamlife, the one that literally fell into my lap, could all just go away. And, technically, nothing bad had happened between us. Things had been great. Really great. The only problem I could see was that we were both falling extremely fast for one another - and perhaps it was causing us both to act irrationally.

Should I have been seeing my older professor? Probably not. Should he have put fifty grand into my bank? Probably not. Should I have been so painfully willing to move in with him after only being with him for a month? Probably not.

I glanced in my rearview mirror as I began to pull away and saw him standing there, watching me go. When he finally turned away and walked back into the house, I let out a sob for the first time.

Did it matter what pace we decided to take in our relationship? No. Was it anyone else’s business? No. Should social norms of what was expected out of a relationship and how fast they were “supposed” to move affect what I felt was right in my relationship? No. And, perhaps the most impactful of all, should an ex’s influence stop you from following your heart? Hell no.

I knew what I wanted. And I decided I was just as crazy as Dr. Miller was. I was crazy about him, about us and about what the future could bring. I could deal with whatever layers he peeled back about himself as we grew together. All I knew for certain, right then, was that I didn’t want to go.

Dr. Miller had said I could come back any time. And so I hit the break and turned the car around before I got down to the gates. I hurried back up toward the house, parking the car where I’d originally left it and ran up to the front door as fast as I could.

I didn’t know whether to burst in or knock, and so I just started pounding with both fists until the door swung open.

Dr. Miller stood there in his gray sweatpants, navy blue thermal and bare feet staring back at me. To me, he’d never looked so beautiful. I couldn’t help it. I hurried inside, slamming the door behind me with one hand and never broke stride as I threw my arms around him and kissed him hard.

He reciprocated, kissing me back. I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t care.

“I’m staying,” I said, finally taking charge of something.

Dr. Miller’s hands found the backs of my legs and he pulled me up off the ground, securing me chest-to-chest with my arms around the back of his neck. “Are you sure?” he breathed into my mouth.

“Yes.” I could still barely breathe but I managed. “You can tell me everything when you’re ready.” I pecked his lips again and he gave a barely-there smile. “I don’t need time to think. I know what I want.”

“I want you,” Dr. Miller whispered against my lips.

I kissed him again. “Open the champagne.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

[madhatterbri]

On The Mend | B.Z.

Summary: You run into Blaise on the train ride back home.

Author's Note: Part 2 of Broken. Hope you enjoy @luvcavill

"I love you, Blaise," you confessed. He flinched at your words. All he would need is one hand to count the times his mother told him those words. A piece of your heart broke at his reaction. He truly didn't know how special he was. "But I can't help fix someone that wants to stay broken,"

You never felt happier to leave Hogwarts for Christmas despite the circumstances. This would be the first Christmas without either of your parents. Your mother died years ago while your father was in Azkaban. There was one silver lining. At least you wouldn't have to see Blaise every day.

Sitting in close proximity to someone who broke your heart was the worst. You had to relive the heart ache every day. Your classes were with him and you had to eat by him. You didn't know how Pansy could do it with Draco. Just act like everything was fine. Meanwhile, you are hurting on the inside.

"You okay?" Pansy asked and placed a hand on your shoulder. She had been such a good friend these past few days. Always their for you to vent. "You know you can come over whenever you need over winter break. I know it's going to be weird with everything going on,"

"Yeah, I am probably going to take you up on that offer," you chuckled and walked inside the train. Since both of your parents could no longer care for you, you were now with your grandmother. The woman loved you fiercely, but she was strict.

The compartments the two of you passed were filled with first years excited to see their parents. The pang of jealousy gripped you in a vice. You remembered feeling the same when you were their age. You wished you could turn back time.

"I am going to find our friends. Why don't you sit here so our spot is saved?" She asked. You nodded and sat down by the window. You leaned your head against the glass. Snow fell down softly.

The door to the compartment opened and closed. You didn't bother looking up. You wanted to get lost in your own world. Fellow students were afraid to mess with you after your father was sent to Azkaban. They figured you had nothing to lose, and you'd wind up there, too.

The person sat across from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see it was a fellow Slytherin. He had dark skin and was tall. Fuck, you thought to yourself, Blaise. You stood up to leave, but he grabbed your hand.

"Don't, please, I want to talk to you," he begged. The desperation in his voice, something you never thought you would hear. Still, you couldn't deal with the drama anymore.

"We did all our talking already, Zabini. The last thing I want to do is fight with you all the way back home," you pleaded with him. "I won't leave but we can just sit here in silence,"

Honestly, the last thing you wanted to do was sit in silence with him. You wanted him to fight for you. Tell you that he screwed up and he wanted to be with you. It was a dream that seemed so far out of reach. Until he opened his mouth and said the words you've been longing to hear.

"I'm sorry," he spoke. You almost laughed until you heard the sincerity in his voice. You looked at him. His face was stoic, yet his eyes pleaded with you to accept his apology.

Your breath caught in your throat. Those were words you never thought you would hear him say. You gulped, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Is that it?" You asked.

"Please, sit down," he requested. His hand never leaves yours. His thumb rubbed soft circles on your hand. The same soothing touch he rubbed you when you father was sent to Azkaban.

You pulled your hand from his and sat across from him. He locked his fingers together and looked out the window. His mind was running, trying to think of what to say. You had never seen him like this.

"You were right," he started and gulped. "About my mom. About everything,"

Your lips tightened as you listened to him. He never really talked about his home life. His breaks from school usually meant he stayed with the Malfoys.

"Blaise, we don't have to talk about this here. We can see each other on break, and it will be more private," you offered. Unlikely to happen with your grandmother, but you didn't want to tell him that. Besides, your friends can walk in at any minute, and all of this will have been for nothing.

"I remind her of him," he admitted, ignoring your words. "The man that cheated on her. She treats me like an estranged family member more than her own son,"

"I'm sorry," you apologized. Despite your family's problems, they loved you no matter what.

"So that's why when we started dating, I figured we were just using each other for fun. Then you told me you love me despite all the wrongs I did to you. Do you still love me?" He asked. His eyes stared into yours. He took a shaky breath.

A single tear fell down your cheeks. You smiled and nodded. "I always have and always will, Blaise,"

"I don't want to be broken anymore, Y/N. I love you and I want to mend our relationship,"

[whillywisp]

heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i.

SUMMARY: They met along the shores and then met again at the foot of those that worshipped them. One rose, one fell from grace and the other caught them both in her gentle embrace.

Or alternatively,

Finnick, Reader and Annie's victory, loss and everything else in between. Brought to you by the music of Hozier, Agust D, Halsey and my wandering friend crafted with grief: A story of trials, love, resentment and rage.

WARNINGS: gore, nightmares, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, self harm, child abuse, near death experiences, forced prostitution, non explicit talks of prostitution, drug addiction, alcoholism, domestic violence, non explicit smut, miscommunication.

PAIRINGS: Finnick Odair x Reader x Annie Cresta

My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?

— Francesca, Hozier.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Chapter One: Amygdala.

Summary: It's been six weeks, seventeen hours, forty one minutes and twenty three seconds since he came out of the arena drenched in someone else's blood and he eats dried mangoes with a stranger to cope with it.

Warnings: mild gore, unreliable narrator, PTSD.

Word Count: 2k

Because they're also all in the past now. So, is all countless suffering for my own good?

— Amygdala By Agust D.

6 weeks after the 65th Hunger Games.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes and tried to focus, he could hear it. Wind chimes, his sister laughing as she struggles to keep up with him on her toddler legs, the wet sand making it hard for the three year old and the waves splashing them with salt as he slows down just enough for her to wrap her chubby arms around his legs and think she was the one who caught him.

Her giggles sound bright as wind chimes and just for that minute he can pretend everything's oka—

She drops down next to him in the grass as unceremoniously as one would when sitting down for a boring class. The wind, freezing and cold in a way that's only characteristic to District 4, ruffles his hair as he turns to look at the stranger.

She's familiar but, honestly speaking, so is everyone else in the tiny public school of District 4. But he's never spoken to her, that's something he's sure about. The girl doesn't turn to look at him, instead choosing to look at the waves crashing against the foot of the cliffs.

Neither of them should be here, not really. This small patch of grass and wildflowers was out of bounds for it was perched at the edge of the cliffs that line the back of the school. But Finnick couldn't care less and it doesn't seem like this girl does either but that doesn't explain her presence there, sitting right next to him on the semi-damp grass, too close to be just sharing the space.

His eyes take in her nonchalance for one more minute before he eventually says, "What are you doing here?"

The girl's eyes, as deep as the sea they sat in front of, snapped to look at him and he inhaled sharply, only barely stopping himself from visibly squirming at the intensity of her gaze. She shrugs then, looking back out at the sea as she speaks easily.

"Admiring the view."

He nods and sighs, mimicking her movements as he turns back to the sea too. For a moment, he says nothing, content to stare out at the vast expanse of blue. But after a bit, he turns his head to look back at her. "Who are you?"

Her cheeks redden, just enough to be noticeable that makes something in his heart thaw, before she glances at him, her voice as delicate as lotus silk.

"We, ah, we sit in English together."

He looks at her, actually looks at her, and realises she's indeed the girl who sat next to him in English. Mrs. Hedsson had made them sit together so she could help him keep up but in all honesty, he's spent the past few weeks sleeping in class and for some strange reason, the girl had had neither woken him up nor snitched on him.

He clears his throat, before saying as pleasantly as he could muster up to at the moment, "Of course. You're the smart kid right?"

She raises an eyebrow and tilts her to the side in a way that reminds him of those terrifying, colourful snakes from the arena and their bite making his entire body numb and burn like he was on fire— "I have a name, you know?" She deadpans, a barely disguised sigh in her voice.

He nods, laughing nervously. "Well, do enlighten me on your name." He smirked at her, as he would at the crowds of people in the Capitol or even at the girls here in District 4, but this girl looked at him like he had grown another head, which made his cheeks darken.

She glanced at him curiously, as if he were a very interesting type of lizard before finally speaking. "I'm Y/N."

"You look like a Y/N." *Finnick murmurs. "I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair." He pauses, as if debating how much more to say. "Why don't you ever speak in class?"

"And you certainly look like a Finnick." She looked at him with a frown, making him want to swallow his own tongue. "I do speak in class. You'd know that if you didn't sleep through them."

"I don't sleep through class." Finnick counters, defensive. His face flashes through a few different emotions as he looks at her. Anger, frustration, annoyance, then finally resignation. "I'm trying to figure out..." He sighs and looks back out at the sea. Then, he turns his head back towards her. "... why I'm talking to you."

She shrugs, putting her hand into her pocket and for a second he's sure she will pull out a knife, — like his dagger, like the one from the arena, the weapon he had depended on for the first several days and he braces himself for the pain, for the warm blood to stain his uniform — but all that comes out is a faded blue handkerchief which she unwraps to reveal few pieces of dried mangoes.

Finnick stares at them blankly, a little lost. Dried mangoes which were salted and made during the summer using mango seeds were a delicacy in District 4, far too expensive for the normal people to afford sometimes. And by the looks of her old faded school uniform, the girl wasn't anyone special with enough money to be able to buy such lavish things and the only reason he could think she was able to was probably because of his win that caused the prices of things in the market to drop. So he couldn't understand why she's sharing something as precious as this with someone who could buy her entire existence three times over with all his wealth as a victor.

He looked up at her, confused but she just smiled, placing the handkerchief with the sour treat between the two of them. "You looked tired, you skipped lunch and if you sleep through the next English class, Mrs. Hedsson will send you to the principal's office. The victor status won't protect you from the suspension, you know. So eat and keep yourself awake."

Finnick looked at the mangoes with confusion again. Then, his expression softens and a small smile plays at the edge of his lips. "You're right. I skipped lunch. I should eat something." He takes the mangoes gratefully. "But how did you know I didn't eat lunch?" He asks curiously, taking a bit of the food.

She shrugged again, taking one for herself and chewing on it carefully. "We also have maths together, and it's right before lunch. And you never go to the cafeteria." She paused, rolling the piece of mango between her fingers as she peered at him through her lashes. "Also, Mrs. Hedsson is still not happy about you killing her daughter in the arena. So if you're going to Violet's funeral next week, you should probably try to talk to her about it. Maybe take a gift, make sure it's expensive or thoughtful and write a eulogy. Also avoid her boyfriend, Ren. He and his friends are planning to drag you into an alleyway and beat you up."

Finnick stiffens, visibly agitated by everything she's said to him. "How do you know all these things?" He asks, his tone somewhere between annoyed and concerned. "How do you know I wasn't going to the cafeteria? Or th-that Mrs. Hedsson is mad at me? Or that Ren is gunning for me?"

She only raises an eyebrow at his rudeness and his cheeks flush in embarrassment but he stands his ground, his irritation winning over his guilt. She takes another bite of the mango before smiling in a way that reminds him of a child about to get into trouble.

"People don't like to talk to me. But I do listen to them."

This stumps him a little. You would think someone that looked like that would have more friends but apparently not. But that doesn't subdue his anxiety. "And...you decided today was the day you would share all of this information with me?" He asks, his tone a mixture of disbelief and panic. "Why now? Why me?"

"Because no one else is going to," She says easily, crossing her ankles as she watches a butterfly settle on a wildflower near her feet.

"Everyone here is too self absorbed and desperate to be a part of the Hunger Games fanfare. They're too envious to care about you as a person because they don't like how popular and loved by the Capitol you are. They're all going to be at Violet's funeral next week," she says, turning to look at him. "And watching you get accused by Mrs. Hedsson for her daughter's death or getting beat up by Ren will make them feel like they won over you, that you're not as invincible as everyone thinks you are. So when next year one of them gets selected for the Games and you are mentoring them, they can hold your momentary weakness over you."

She scoffs, pushing her hair back as the wind blows it into her eyes. "The only animals that have a black heart is ayami cermani, a type of chicken," and Finnick can't help but be a little impressed by her random knowledge about chickens with actual black hearts as she continued. "But no. I'm not telling you this out of generosity but because you left your vigilance back in the arena and that's not smart. All of these things have been happening in plain sight around you. Ren glares at you during maths. Mrs. Hedsson targets you in English and you get detention for no reason. Other kids knock into you or stick too close to you for it to be normal. You'd know that if you paid attention."

Finnick pauses, trying to process everything she had just said before he speaks, "And you're giving me a heads up just... out of the kindness of your black little heart?" He asks sarcastically, not able to hide his skepticism.

Finnick flushes at her observations, a little surprised — and also, maybe a little unnerved — to find that some of her criticisms of him are legitimate. "I have been...a bit absent these last few months. You're right about that." He concedes, looking at her curiously. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She whispers back, her eyes trained on the butterfly that was still on the wildflower. "You, of all people though, should be more vigilant."

He raises an eyebrow, popping another piece of dried mango into his mouth before chuckling nervously. "You're too wise for a fourteen year old."

She shrugged before picking up the rest of the snack and placing it, handkerchief and all, in his lap. He glanced up at her, a little surprised by the gesture. "I told you. I listen to people."

His breath hitches in his chest and before he could say something, the shrill ringing of the school bell cuts through the peace of the moment and she stands up, brushing the grass off her faded blue skirt. She looks out at the ocean for a split second and starts walking back towards the school before turning back around, to look at him, her clear, high voice startling him out of his trance.

"Oh and, Finnick? I'm sorry about your family."

He stiffens, watching her walk back to the school without waiting for an answer. He couldn't understand. How did she know? No one did, not outside the people who cared and his fellow victors that lived in the Victor's Village. It only happened last week. How did she know?

But his mind couldn't bring itself to draw connections as it lost itself in the familiar haze of pain. Her condolences hang in the air where she stood as his breathing becomes shallow and his vision blurs, both with tears and the living room floor covered in blood, his little sister's blank blue eye staring up at him, her slight body that didn't even come up to his waist laying across his parents, their own eyes wide open as if surprised even in death and their lifeless gaze feels as heavy as the single sheet of expensive cream paper with names, hotel room numbers and the exact composition of Mags' arthritis medication crumpled in the pocket of his school uniform trousers.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

A/N: I'm a little rusty so be nice. BE NICE.

[1d1195]

Made to Be Extra III

You can read Made to Be here.

A fluffy little thing of 2.5k words

I hope you enjoy <3

“Do you think I look less pretty than normal?” She wondered.

“Kitten, number one, I think you are the prettiest pregnant lady ‘ve ever seen in m’life. M’sad it’ll be over soon. May have t’get y’pregnant as soon as possible jus’ t’keep y’so pretty like this."

March/April

Harry found the love of his life sitting in the car under the shade of a tree. It was a warm March day especially in the sun. The poor thing was practically ready to pop and utterly uncomfortable all the time now. It was hard to believe she still had almost another month. He opened the driver’s door and smiled at her, leaned over and pressed a kiss on her temple. “Hi angel,” he hummed. He pressed his hand on her extremely round stomach. “Hi Andy,” he cooed. They didn’t know if it was a boy or girl yet. All they knew was they were going to have little Andoni or Andrielle and they were going to be nicknamed Andy. “Did y’have fun in history class today with Mummy?” He smiled gently at the tired lady beside him.

He thought it was a girl because he read a few articles indicating some old wives’ tales that being exhausted (which the poor thing was) meant a girl at the end of the nine months.

“Andy does not care about the US in the 1990s,” she murmured. “Kicked my bladder the whole time,” she sighed. “Gonna be a little soccer player. Or really into martial arts,”

Harry had yet to feel a kick which he was utterly bummed about. He hoped Andy would let him feel it just once, but his poor punching bag of a wife insisted that Harry’s voice was so soothing that Andy fell right to sleep the minute he started talking. “M’sorry, love,” he kissed the side of her head again. “Do y’want anything before we head home?” He asked while starting the car.

“I will die if we stop anywhere,” she told him, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on the window. Andy had been lovely throughout the last eight months, honestly. She didn’t have crazy mood swings—no more than normal, as she liked to point out to Harry—no horrible nausea other than a week or two in the first trimester, and she was extremely happy that she didn’t want anything gross like pickles and peanut butter. But the exhaustion was setting it. It was hard for her to walk or even fold laundry without getting winded. Naturally, Harry took care of everything he possibly could. Waiting on her hand and foot, making sure she didn’t have to lift a finger, and always assuring her that he didn’t mind nor cared about anything she said or did. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said after a second.

He chuckled. “What for, kitten?” He asked as he pulled into traffic.

“For not wanting to stop.”

“Don’t be silly, angel,” he rolled his eyes.

Because of the exhaustion, she was able to fall asleep in seconds, always at awkward angles. Always at Harry’s worry of her hurting her neck, like now. Cheek nearly sliding down the length of the window. He smirked glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to wake her as he drove back home.

*

She had fitful sleeps since Andy kept her up all night. “Making me practice,” she told Harry as she paced from their bedroom to the kitchen most nights.

Harry and her family were able to move them finally into a house that would become the home of three just shy of her fifth month. Harry was insistent she couldn’t lift anything that was heavier than a book (but couldn’t be one of her classroom textbooks). He pitted her whole family against her.

“Just boss us around like you always do,” her younger sister said. She rolled her eyes and pressed a hand on her stomach.

“You hear that, Andy? Auntie says I’m bossy!”

“Extremely, sweetie,” her mum said passing by with a box. She frowned and Harry winked at her as he and her dad lifted the heavier furniture in between all the girls relaying the boxes into the house. “It’s okay, honey. You’re good at it. We would all be lost without you,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “Anne and Gemma never make fun of me,” she reminded them.

“That’s because they still think you’re sweet,” her middle sister said.

“Yeah, Harry. Why is that? You know the real her. You shouldn’t lie to your mom and sister like that,” the younger one said.

Harry thought their banter was one of his favorite things about this family. Even her divorced parents seemed amicable enough to help their eldest daughter and still kindly poke fun at her. Harry came to her side once the sofa was in position where she wanted it. “How are we doing m’loves?” he asked rubbing his hand over her tummy just barely starting to show.

“I swear Andy only kicks when you’re not in earshot,” she murmured. “I really want to help,” she said knowingly. “I think I could easily carry a box or two. Women have been having babies for thousands of years and I bet they still had to help carry stuff back to their caves.”

“You are growing m’baby,” he reminded her, quietly. So as not to draw a lot of attention from her family. They didn’t mind the couple at all, but he knew she was shy at being overly affectionate in front of them. “You’re helping plenty, kitten,” he promised, pressing his hands to either side of her face and kissed her forehead. Letting his lips linger for a moment. “And we don’t live in a cave,” he reminded her as he and her dad started on the bed frame.

*

When he arrived at home, he grabbed their work bags and hurried to put them inside the door before returning for her. Carefully he opened her door, holding her up as she slumped toward the space where the door no longer was. Unless the baby woke her up, she was the heaviest sleeper in these little naps she took. “Hey, kitten, Andy,” he hummed. “We’re home m’loves,” he crouched toward the floor and unbuckled her. She slumped forward more. “Angel,” he cooed shaking her gently as he held her up.

“Mmm...” she moaned. “M’sleepy.”

“Let’s jus’ get y’inside, love,” he said quietly. As if she were made of glass, he carefully helped her to standing, pressing gently on her lower back. They didn’t speak as he guided her inside.

“I miss coffee,” she whined as he settled her onto the sofa. He chuckled and frowned.

“I know, angel,” he lifted her legs, setting them on a small stack of throw pillows he had there specifically for his love to recline comfortably. He pulled her shoes off and tossed them toward the front door near the mat she had laid out just for frequent shoes. “Soon,” he promised kissing her forehead. “Cold or hot?”

She frowned.

“Both?” He asked.

She nodded. “You’re so nice to me,” she sounded wispy—like she may cry. It had been almost a month since she had a mood swing resulting in rivers of tears.

“Don’t cry, kitten,” he said and draped her softest, warmest blanket over her and flicked the little desk fan on, so it pointed at her. “Jus’ want m’love t’be comfortable.”

“Don’t you want to kick for Daddy?” She asked rubbing her tummy. “She is so active when I talk. It’s got to be you,” she mumbled. Forgetting about the tears that were about to explode out of her.

“She hmm?”

Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. She had been avoiding pronouns—opting for Andy instead. She didn’t care if they were having a boy or a girl. As long as the baby was happy and healthy it truly didn’t matter. But she couldn’t help but think how much fun it would be to pamper a little girl lately. “I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t want Harry to think she had some feeling—she didn’t. If Andy was a boy she would love him no less than if he were a girl.

“I think a little girl would be lovely,” Harry promised, easing her worried mind.

“There are so many girls in my family,” she reminded him.

“Then a little boy would be perfect, too,” he smirked and kissed her forehead. He moved toward the middle of her body, pressing his hands on her tummy and bringing his mouth close to her shirt. “Whoever you are, m’gonna love you with m’whole heart,” he whispered, kissing where he spoke.

She stretched a bit. Her back was aching. The little one was low in her tummy making her think it would be a boy if she were to believe the old wives’ tales. “Do you think I look less pretty than normal?” She wondered.

“Kitten, number one, I think you are the prettiest pregnant lady ‘ve ever seen in m’life. M’sad it’ll be over soon. May have t’get y’pregnant as soon as possible jus’ t’keep y’so pretty like this,” he remarked running his hands down the length of her legs and he sat beside her feet where he began massaging gently into the soles of her feet. He meant every word. It was like she was made to be pregnant. Not in an oppressive way. She just wore it so well and looked so utterly beautiful. “Secondly, I’d be an idiot t’answer that question at any time.”

She frowned. “I think I look the same,” she admitted. “Means it’s a boy.”

He smirked and she dropped her head back against the sofa as he rubbed her feet. “I love you so much,” she moaned.

He chuckled. “I love you, too, kitten.”

“I wish you could be pregnant just so you could experience how amazing this foot rub is.”

Harry smiled. “So... some of the kids want t’throw you a baby shower,” he told her. “I know y’hate surprises so m’telling y’now. So y’can act surprised.”

“They’re not supposed to give me gifts,” she frowned.

“I explained that; even if I think it’s a bit unfair they want t’spoil you as y’deserve,” Harry nodded in agreement. “They said, and I quote, ‘I will totally fight administration if they don’t let me give her a baby outfit.’ So. I think its out of our hands.”

“That’s really sweet,” she frowned again—but not like before when Harry thought she would cry. She solely thought it was sweet.

“You are their favorite teacher,” he reminded her. She felt her cheeks warm. Now it had been almost five years at this school. Standing across the hall from Harry between classes he was front row to watching people adore his wife—not even close to the amount he admired her, but it was still adorable to watch. Students smiled at her or made jokes with her as they passed her room. She had stragglers refuse to go to their next class for just a few more minutes of her maternal love—an hour-long class wasn’t enough. Students wanted to stay during lunch just to be in her presence and hear her make jokes.

“Maybe history teacher. Pretty sure it’s no competition against the culinary teacher. You can’t compete with food.”

“You have snacks,” he reminded her.

She shrugged. Then her head snapped up. “Get me my bag,” she said hurriedly. Harry looked at her confused. Nervous and worried but did as she requested. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner,” she whispered to herself.

“Think of—”

“Shh,” she hushed and reached in her bag for the thick history text. She reached out for his hand holding it in her gently. She opened the book to what seemed to be a random page and started reading. “By the early 1960s, many women were increasingly resentful of a world where newspaper ads separated jobs by gender, banks denied women credit, and female employees were paid less for the same work. Nearly—” Her voice caught but she continued reading as if it hadn’t. Harry was clueless. Nervous she was having some weird episode. “half of American women worked by the mid-1960s, but three-fourths of these women worked in lower—” as she continued reading, Harry was watching her face intently, still quite worried about her mental well-being as it was by far the oddest thing she had done to date reading about the women’s movement from her classroom textbook.

But soon Harry realized why. While he was gazing at her beautiful face, she moved her hand to her tummy allowing him to feel the little future soccer star inside her. He swallowed the breath afraid to make any movements. He didn’t hear the words his lovely wife was saying. All he could focus on was the feel of the little bumps along her stomach. It wasn’t plausible but Harry never wanted her to stop reading. He wanted to feel the little one for as long as possible. He had waited so long and now that she was approaching the final month, he thought he might not feel it.

As she read, she guided Harry’s hand along her stomach so he could feel all the little kicks to her abdomen. He knelt to the floor for an easier reach, just staring at baby Andy through her tummy. He couldn’t wait to meet the little one. He hoped that the baby looked just like his gorgeous wife. Or maybe a good mix of the two of them—but mostly her. If Harry wasn’t so focused on the feel of his little baby kicking the woman he loved so much, he would have been staring right at his beautiful wife until his eyes fell out of his head.

After a long read through the women’s movement in the US of the 1960s, she finally stopped reading, reaching the end of the chapter, and closed the book. Harry gazed at her with so much admiration her stomach flipped.

“I love you, so much,” he whispered.

As soon as his mouth opened the kicking stopped. She giggled. “Daddy’s voice makes me all safe and warm too,” she whispered rubbing her stomach. “I love you, too,” she answered.

Harry scooted on the floor toward her head, cupping the sides of her face in his hands. “You are my hero,” he told her seriously. “Thank you for taking care of little Andy here,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.

“Thanks for taking care of us,” she murmured around his flurry of kisses. “You’re going to be the best daddy in the whole world.”

Harry grinned against her lips feeling unbelievably lucky he had the whole world in his hands figuratively and literally with her and Andy.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

If you like this story, you can find the rest of my writing here: Masterlist

[noforkingclue]

New Friends?

Summary: you always felt that the hotel you worked at was slightly creepy but you passed it off due to it being an old building. However, a chance encounter one night changes everthing.

Author's note: I was inspired by this after seeing the last ever Ghosts episode, so spoilers for that if you haven't seen it. I honestly can't believe the series is over and I'm definitely going to need to re-watch it at some point!

Hope you like it :)

BBC Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziastuff,  @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

Why did all the creepy things happen at night?

Why didn’t horror films happen during the daytime when it was bright and there were lots of people about? Why was it had to be you who was working the night shift?

Why did you have to have all these fucking questions?

A couple had decided to leave in the middle of the night and of course you had to draw the short straw to make it presentable. Ok, so you wouldn’t be doing a full clean but your manager wanted it to at least look presentable in case there were any late night guests. You let out a huff as you let the door swing open as you inspected the room. Your old line manager wouldn’t be making anyone do this. This new one was a bit of a stickler to the rules and almost seemed to have it out for you.

You fluffed up the pillows and pulled back the duvet. There were no suspicious stains on the sheets so they’d do in a pinch. You made a note to change them in the morning as you made your way to the bathroom. Best to check that as well in case your guest were vicious serial killers who killed their latest victim in your room.

At first you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around and froze. Ok, maybe you theory about them being serial killers was more accurate than you initially thought. You slowly crept forward and narrowed your eyes. There wasn’t a lot of blood for a decapitated head. In films there was always gushing blood but this-

“Hello.”

“Ahh!”

You cried out and jumped backwards, scuttling away. Your eyes widened in shock and you raised a shaking hand.

“What the… you spoke…”

“Well, yeah! Wait,” the head frowned, “you can see me?”

“I’m imagining this,” you stood up and ran a hand over your face, “I’m imagining this. I’m… sleep deprived, that’s it!”

You staggered back ignoring the cried from the head. This was all in your mind. You hadn’t been sleeping too well lately and that was why you’re seeing random talking heads.

Right?

*

“I know you can hear us.”

“Come on, just one word.”

“It is incredibly rude to ignore people when they are talking to you. Did your parents not teach you any manners?”

You put your hands over your ears as you continued to walk quickly down the corridor. For the past week you had been followed around by what you assumed (but didn’t want to believe) to be ghosts. You were just about keeping it together but you could see your colleagues becoming concerned. Your new line manager was becoming harsher, not just with you, but with everyone and that added pressure wasn’t helping.

“My dear if you would just-“

You slammed the door of the room you were meant to be cleaning in one of the ghosts (you think one of them called him Thomas?) face. You knew you were going to get in trouble for that later but you could always pass it off as the wind slamming it or it slipping out of your grip.

“I think she wants to be left alone,” said one of them (possibly Pat?), “you remember how Alison was when she first saw us. Give her time.”

You let out a sigh of relief and picked up your cleaning supplies. You headed into the bathroom and paused when you saw a familiar head in the bath. You sagged and sat down on the floor, back resting against the tub.

“So I’m not going insane?” you asked

“That rather depends on what you class as insane.”

You closed your eyes and leant back. Maybe you should just give in?

“I’m Humphrey by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, well, meet you again and as much as I can while I’m in here.”

You leant over the bath and smiled at him.

“Better?” you asked

“Yeah.” Humphrey frowned, “You alright?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You look a bit stressed.”

“Just my manager being a dick. Giving me too much work that I can’t always complete on time. Throwing her weight around and acting like a jerk. God, sometimes I really just want to-“

You let out a frustrated noise and sat back down.

“Sounds like you want a bit of revenge.”

“Revenge? I just want some breathing space.”

“Well if there’s one person who would be good at that.”

“Who?”

“Julian.”

“Julian?”

You jumped when a ghost stuck his head through the wall. You had been getting used to that happening but you could never get used to that happening. You didn’t need to see Humphrey to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“I heard my name,” Julian said, giving you what he thought was a charming smile, “in what way do you need my expertise?”

As you glanced up at the disgraced politician all you could think of was,

‘Well, what’s the worst that could happen?’

[breealtair]

Okay so I've read a fanfic once upon a time where Steve was dragged to a school performance of Rocky Horror Picture Show by his gremlins who are attending to support Eddie who is playing Dr. Frank'n Furter and Steve has his bisexual awakening seeing Eddie in fishnets and a corset. And it was fantastic.

HOWEVER.

Imagine if maybe Steve was in the production. Hear me out. In a world where Steve and Robin became friends before he graduated (or maybe it's a midnight shadow cast at the local drive in), Robin has been cast as Riff Raff.

(listen the the theatre department at my college has a tradition of putting on a shadow cast every year and we have always cast a female presenting queer person as riff raff and its literally the hottest riff raff can possibly be and Robin has the same vibes of the people I've seen in the role she would totally rock it)

Anyways, Robin is cast as riff raff and she some how drags Steve into being in the show. I'm imagining either they didn't have someone to fill the role OR Nancy was cast as Janet and it was a poor attempt at trying to get her best friend back together with his ex.

And of course there is Eddie as Frank'n Furter and working with him in such a way throws Steve into the deep end of his bisexual awakening (plus the two gross close together)

Now here's the thing. I'm torn between Brad and Rocky for the Role that Steve would be cast in.

Because on one hand, Steve being Brad while Nancy is Janet would be great because of the the bedroom scene and the parallel of Brad and Steve both having their bisexual awakening while trying to maintain the heteronormative expectation of staying with Nancy/Janet.

But on the other hand! Steve as Rocky is both hilarious and so great. For one, I had the joy of co directing a shadow cast and we cast a himbo football player who had no idea what Rocky Horror Picture Show was. His gay friend in the department told him he had to audition and he did so no questions asked. His LIP SYNC audition was Tequila by the Champs which only has one word in the whole song and he basically stipped down to his underwear (without our prompting) and shimmied around the room for the whole song. So I know the joys of having a jock himbo cast as Rocky. It's a delight. His football friends came to see the show and were scandalized. He was so confused by everything that Rocky Horror is. He really bonded with my best friend who is gender queer as fuck and played Frank'n Furter. I saw him discover some stuff about himself. He rocked that corset. A himbo jock as Rocky is top tier (only to be out done by the time we cast a female cosplayer who had just taken a weight lifting class and was able to dead lift a man twice her size). So imagining Steve as Rocky also fits just as well and still lends to the "trying to set Steve up with Nancy" bit because, you know, touch a touch me exists.

Some more food for thought is the time that my school cast two gay best friends as Janet and Brad except they cast the lesbian as Brad and the gay boy as Janet. The chemistry between the two of them and the way they were able to truly performe a peak satire of gender norms from a crossdressing perspective was truly amazing. That was truly a fantastic time and I could totally see a fic where Robin was cast as Brad and Steve as Janet.

Basically what it comes down to is that, I've seen a couple of fics in which Eddie is Frank'n Furter and Steve watches the show, but I have yet to see a fic where Steve somehow winds up in the show and has to face his bi awakening in the most tactile and face to face way possible.

So I need help.

One, which role would be the best role for Steve? (One plays into the jock himbo vibes, the other into the hetero facing his bisexual awakening, and the last plays into the platonic with a capital P soul mates vibe)

Two I need someone to actually write this fic (or all three versions of it honestly.

(Honestly. I feel like Steve would play Janet with Robin as his Brad only after he had been in the show once and felt more comfortable with the show and himself. I also think that him as Rocky would make sense because it would be the role that all his friends who were familiar with the show would push him towards. Meanwhile, maybe Nancy and Jonathan are cast as Janet and Brad and the whole "rocky stealing Janet away from Brad" thing would be part of the "get your girlfriend back scheme" on Robin's part.)

[ant1quarian]

Cop!Sans x Reader Drabble

... Perhaps a new book. Someone stop me there's going to be too many- It's going to be like my list of AUs I've created-

Warnings: Sexual jokes, Reader's a criminal, and running, and just a lil' gremlin. Reader also really doesn't like Royals.

Alarms blared in your ears, telling tales of the cop car wailing that you were bound to hear in a couple minutes.

Sprinting out of the antique museum at breakneck speed, you couldn’t stop the grin that formed on your face. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, keeping time with your quick-paced footsteps.

You’d done a sloppy job at stealing this time around– far too sloppy. So much so that you were likely going to be caught and arrested, but there was no way you were going down without a fight.

You breathed in the cold night air, reveling in the way you seemed to dodge effortlessly through the crowds– like a predatory animal who knew all too well how to vanish from the untrained eye.

Upper Ebott was never quiet– a massive tourist destination, filled with many national wonders and home to the mountain with the biggest lore in history.

You quickly found your own destination, slipping into a dark alleyway that was the entrance to the man-made maze that the city had unknowingly built. 

A hooded figure grabbed your arm, grinning sharply as his saffron-orange eyes met yours. Your grin only returned in kind as you placed the antique crown in his hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” 

You chuckled in response, patting his upper arm. The smooth material of his waterproof jacket was cold beneath your hand.

“‘Course, Saffron–” You would have continued, had the sound of police sirens not begun to scream through the air.

Saffron nodded quickly at you before sprinting off– far faster than you would ever be.

Man, Saffron was your idol. Such a cool guy.

You shot out of the alleyway and down the street, thinking back on all of the other times you’d had to do this in the past.

You’d grown up a street kid– didn’t have anyone around you to guide you towards riches and money. People just loved to discriminate against you, because they had nothing better to do with their lives.

So excuse you if you decided to attack the Monarchy because they were all rich toris that loved to shit on all of the lower classes.

“stop running and put your hands up!” A baritone shout cut through the air behind you. 

Internally, you deadpanned, vaulting over a chainlink fence with a sign on it that clearly stated “NO TRESSPASSING” and continued your run.

Did they actually think you’d stop because they’d given you a chance? In fact– what about that sign was seemingly “stopping” you from getting in here?

Hell, why build a fence out of chainlink if you don’t want reckless people such as yourself to climb over it? They should have at least put barbwire at the top as a deterent (not that it would have stopped you, of course. There were plenty of ways to get around barbwire.)

You glanced around you, realising you were in some kind of company–... ew.

You spared a look at the big ol’ sign on the wall proclaiming that this was the property of his and her majesty and immediately felt the impulsive urge to find some gasoline. Or a match.

Preferably both.

After all, there was nothing you hated more than the monarchy. Not even Kevins and Karens– and that was saying a hell of a lot.

You could hear the footsteps of three people behind you, but you didn’t flinch. Though, you were beginning to reach just about the end of your first wind.

You knew if you were to be caught, it would undoubtedly be a lifetime imprisonment– you were a thief and a murderer, known for targetting rich people and then robbing them blind afterwards.

That was all true, by the way. Most of the unresolved cases around the area were your fault. Honestly, you would have thought the police force would have been smarter– your little “telltale” sign that it was you was the fact that the people were rich.

And also you’d steal their watches and/or bracelets. 

… You wondered if you’d ever stolen a heirloom before.

Eh. Probably.

You vaulted over the other side of the fence, beginning to feel the telltale sign of yourself flagging as your heart began to burn.

Just as you’d made it onto a strip of grass, you felt yourself being tackled to the ground. You fell with an “oof” and wiggled around as you tried to escape, looking around at the empty dog park around you.

The distinct smell of a damp forest wafted into your senses, making you think of a gentle stream– one that was currently a raging river.

“you have the right to remain silent.” The same baritone from before growled, grabbing your wrists. The clanking sound of handcuffs caught your attention, and your grin turned sharp.

“Hey, hey, woah there– not even asking for my safeword? That’s not very nice of yo- fuck, ow,” You winced when he pulled your arms uncomfortably behind your back, “–u. My safeword’s peaches by the way–”

“shut. up.” The cop seethed, but you could see the faintest blue glow on your shoulder.

… Blue? Hold up just a fuckin’ second.

“Sans! Have you got the thief?”

… Sans. Sans– why was that name familiar–

…

Ew. Fuck no. YOU WERE BEING HANDCUFFED BY SOMEONE WHO WAS FRIENDS WITH THE MONARCHY?!

“You’re a skeleton.” You numbly muttered, pressing your cheek into the ground to get a better look at Sans as he shouted the affirmative to his colleague.

His bones were white, his skull catching the light of another police vehicle as it turned up. His teeth were slightly parted, sweat dripping down his brow as he took a couple deep breaths. His rib cage expanded and contracted, giving off the effect of breathing even if he wasn’t physically capable of it.

His eyelights, a million shades of very pale blue, were small and sharp-looking, despite still being rounded. His suit– purple, black and white (the colours of the Deltarune Kingdom, you noted)– was scuffed up in some areas– particularly along the sleeve, which needed some major patchwork.

… He had a very light dusting of blue upon his cheekbones, which you immediately grinned at.

“Green light’s for go.” You called teasingly, wiggling your fingers around in their handcuffed hold. Your finger touched the bottom of his palm– warm skin against even warmer bones.

“shut up.” He huffed again, fixing you with a glare. If you’d been unhandcuffed and free, you would have clapped and giggled at the way his blush deepened.

In no time at all, two other officers came to help Sans get you to your feet. 

You winked at Sans as he pushed you into the back of a police car, quickly doing your belt and clicking it closed.

“Kinky.” You muttered where his “ear” would be as he did so– referring to the fact you were even more restrained now.

All you got in return was a sharp glare, and more of a blush. Something in you delighted at the fact you could make a mess of a Royal’s friend with just a few simple words.

… Sans gave you the impression he was most definitely a guarded person, and likely wasn’t used to getting flirted with. Well, unluckily for him, as long as he was around you, you’d continue to pester him with the power of your rizz. For the sake of entertainment, of course.

… 

You had a feeling the holding cell wasn’t going to be very entertaining. You also wondered when your trial would be, and how much evidence of your crimes they’d gathered.

Eh.

You hummed, sitting as comfortably in your seat as you could while you stared at Sans in the mirror with a grin.

Guess you’d find out, huh?

[typically-untypical]

Falling For You

AU: Fantasy

CW: Injury

WC: 1,595

Date: 12/16/2023

"Stay by my side," Janus called to Patton and Roman, completely dropping the titles he should have been using. This was so typical of him, waiting until the moment there were no onlookers and dropping any respect he was supposed to show the two kings. Honestly Roman didn't mind. For the past decade, Janus had been Roman's guard, protecting him whether he was on the ground or in flight. Even before he was a guard, he had been the kid that snuck in to see Roman. They had always been by each other's side, and why Roman was younger, he had naively believed he and Janus were fated to be together. He dreamed of Janus sweeping him off his feet, making a snide remark and whisking him away to the unknown, away to a place where they weren't separated by their class and they could be together without sideways glances.

However, that wasn't the role of a guard, and it certainly wasn't the place for a royal. Roman had the responsibility to carry on his family lineage, to hold his head high and be above reproach when it came to society. That didn't mean he stopped craving Janus' deep voice whispering in his ear. It just meant he got much better at hiding it.

Patton, Roman's husband, wasn't nearly as experienced in the ways of denying his emotions. Patton wore his heart on his sleeve and it was beautiful, but dangerous. He attempted to hide his sadness and pain but it was easy enough to see it, almost as easy to see the blooming curiosity his husband had for their guard. Janus had a way with words, a way of peaking people's interest and twisting them around him. That was how Roman had fallen, so completely enamored with the coiling twists of Janus' tongue that he hadn't realized he was ensnared until it was too late.

"My kings!" Janus' voice was loud, screaming through the wind as he threw himself and his alicorn in front of Patton and Roman. The blast came soon after, rocking Janus back. It felt like a slow spell had been cast as Janus slowly tipped off his mount, empty eyes connecting with Roman's before time sped up and Janus was free falling. 

"No!" Patton shouted just after, pushing himself from the safety of Roman's arms and diving into the sky to grab Janus. The were wrapped together, billowing cloaks in the wind as Patton struggled to grab his wand. 

There wasn't enough time.

 There wasn't enough time! 

Roman grabbed the reins hard, steering towards the two rushing to the ground. 

There wasn't time to think. 

He had to act. 

Matching his descent with theirs he scooped both into his arms, almost missing Patton's hand. They were safe. He was holding them. 

Roman leveled out but there was still a threat. Bolts of magic fired at the three of them while he tried to steer away. His chest was tight, running on pure adrenaline until he landed. 

"Patton get him somewhere safe." Roman jumped off the alicorn, pulling his own wand out of his pocket.

"But Roman, what are you-"

"I've got this handled." Landing might not have been the best strategy. He had less area to maneuver around this way, but he couldn't risk falling. He wasn't going to die here. He wouldn't leave either of them behind. Roman turned to look at Patton, showing him the softest smile he could manage. Was he frightened? Sure. Was he concerned about winning this fight? Possibly. However, nothing would be worse than him losing the two people he loved. For a brief moment Roman entertained the idea of being a gallant hero, of letting his name go down in history for saving Patton and Janus. The two of them would get together and Janus would be taken care of.

No, now wasn't the time for that. He shot Patton another look, and the man swallowed before nodding. He took the reins of the alicorn and flew away into the forest. They would be hard to follow there. Thankfully, the men after them went for the easy prey, flying toward Roman instead of going after Patton and Janus. There were four riders, two with wands and two with swords. His hand itched to reach for his own sword but he had to be strategic about this. The ones with the wands posed the most problems but if the two with the swords got any closer that could change. Roman waved his wand above his head, casting it down and creating a wall of ice between the two groups hoping to buy Patton and Janus more time. He then whistled for Janus' mount who had been aimlessly flying in circles without a rider to guide him. The Alicorns were very intelligent creatures, they knew when it was time to work and when it was time to play. Roman was lucky the bridal hadn't been knocked off as well or he might not have had a mount at all. 

"I'm surprise the four of you managed to knock my guard off his mount." They didn't speak the two with magic shooting at him but Roman was able to dodge with minor injures, shivering at the cold that latched onto his leg. "Your skills pale in comparison." Maybe taunting them wasn't the best idea. It was important he keep their attention. He could see the way they grew angrier with his jabs and the ice wall shattered. Thankfully just in time for Roman to throw himself onto the Alicorn and take to the skies. Patton and Janus were decently far away now. They should be safe. It was time to fight for real. 

He wished he could spare the griffins, the chosen mounts for his pursuers, but it was always dangerous to attempt to take in creatures that had been tamed by the enemy. Roman had to act without mercy. He slung spells at his pursuers, felling those who would try to hurt him, and when his mana was drained, he pulled out his sword, ready to attack with the horn of his alicorn and also with the fury of his own blade. The sun was setting by the time he was able to land. He allowed the alicorn to lead, knowing they were often drawn to others of their species. They walked instead of flying, making their way through the forests that protected the city, stumbling through the dark with only each other. As the last lights of day faded, Roman saw a light, a small campfire off in the distance. 

"Patton you have to let me go!" Janus was shouting, his voice pitched higher then it normally was a sound he only made when consumed by panic. "He could be in danger."

"You don't think I know that?" Patton sounded like he had been crying. "But he didn't want you to get hurt."

"And he also doesn't have many brain cells."

"That's not an appropriate thing to say about your king," Roman said as he walked into the clearing, smiling softly when he saw both of them were alright. Patton was already rushing toward him and Janus was straightening himself out, shoulders back, hands pressing down his guard uniform. It was like watching someone put on a carefully curated mask. Janus had always been good at that, but that only worried Roman more.

As soon as his husband was in his arms, Roman hugged Patton tightly. His eyes never really left Janus who cleared his throat upon realizing the intensity of his king's gaze.

"I am thankful you're alright," he hesitated, voice hanging in the air before Janus bowed, whispering, "your highness." That simply wouldn't do. It was only the three of them and Roman preferred the man who argued and challenged him to one that quietly followed orders. Gently putting his hands on Patton's shoulders, Roman pushed him away, kissing his cheek lightly. He was about to do something they had talked about for a while and outside the confines of the castle and society, Roman was willing to take a risk. He had almost lost Janus today. He wasn't risking this again. Roman marched over, twigs snapping under his feet.

He was face to face with Janus, in a manner of speaking, but the other man was still bowing, head dipped in reverence. That really wouldn't do. Roman lifted up Janus' chin, tilting him toward the sky.

"Come now Roman, I know you won't behead me for such a simple faux pas," he was trying to smile, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes, a hint of something else. How could Janus doubt him? After so long?

"Will you shut up for once in your life?" He leaned forward, kissing Janus with as much heat as care, pulling the man in closer as he second hand went to explore Janus' body. Roman wanted to touch him as much as he wanted to verify the knight was okay.

When they finally separated for air, Janus was smirking, a look of love sickness in his eyes. "That wasn't an appropriate thing for a king to do," He whispered and Patton giggled, causing Janus to blush just a hint. 

"I don't care, you aren't allowed to leave."

"Can I have a turn?" Patton asked, resting one hand on Roman's arm and the other on Janus'. He had a pout on his lips that barely hide a smile. They would figure this out together, society be damned. Roman wasn't going to lose him.

@tsspromptmonth

[fridamoss]

Is This The Love (That I'm Feelin'?) | Bob Floyd X Loot (PART 3)

Archive of Our Own // Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Summary: Bob & Loot get to know each other, in a closet.

Warnings: Curse words.

Word count: 2,128

It was midnight. Your eyes stung in the bright light of your phone screen. You had been texting Bob for the last couple of days on and off and he was being so incredibly sweet. Each time your phone lit up with a message, you got a little flutter in your stomach.

Tapping out ‘good night Bob :*’ with one eye open, you didn’t even drop the phone before you fell asleep.

That evening after work, you’d been determined to hit the gym. One of your favourite things to do was get into your cutest workout outfit, smash out some reps with your headphones on (absolutely no one should utter one syllable in your direction). Focusing on yourself for 45 minutes a day was the least you could do, especially with how busy work had been lately. Rolling over in your sleep you felt the ache run down the back of your legs and into your butt, jolting you awake. Your first thought was Bob, his hair blowing about from the wind rushing through the open windows in your car. Sleep found you again, wrapping you up in its comforting arms. Arms that turned into Bob reaching for you, holding you against him while he stroked your hair, telling you it was so pretty.

You woke up smiling but frustrated. Sweet, sexy dreams made you horny. And you were real fucking horny for Robert Floyd. You had a half hour to get ready for work, no way you’d fit in any kind of self pleasure. Another long day at work while sexually frustrated, your vibrator was well loved but it was no match for what you imagined Bob doing to you.

Waiting for the water to heat up in the shower, you looked through last nights conversation with Bob. It was just a regular conversation, absolutely nothing sexy at all which made you hotter for him. He was respectful, never pushing you for anything. You couldn’t count the amount of guys that ask for a nude photo right off the bat.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait to get to that stage with Bob. You let out an exasperated moan at the thoughts of his cheeks flaming red when he caught sight of the imaginary underwear selfie picture you’d send him while he was at work. Whoo boy. You and he needed to talk face to face real fucking soon.

*****

Bob checked his phone about 20 times in 1 minute. Phoenix glared at him across the table. ‘Just text her, you loser!’

‘I can’t! She didn’t reply to my last message, I don’t wanna be a jerk.’

Phoenix sighed, feeling bad for her back-seater, he had it bad for this girl.

‘Give me your phone and I will send her a message,’ reaching over to make a swipe at his phone. Bob held it back, flummoxed, ‘what would you say?’

Gosh he really was clueless.

‘I’d say “Hey Loot, fancy grabbing lunch with me today?”

Rolling his eyes, Bob mumbled ‘That’s not bad actually…’ trailing off as he heard the chair next to him scrape against the floor.

‘You asking me on a lunch date, Nat?’

Bob looked at you, mouth agape before swallowing hard. You could see a flush in his cheeks already. How has this man made it so far in life?

‘Nah, but Bob is.’ Phoenix nodded toward him and settled back in her seat, thoroughly pleased with herself.

‘Morning Bob,’ you said softly, one side of your mouth lifting into a smile the way he liked so much.

‘Yeah lunch. Wanna do lunch?’ He sounded so unsure.

‘Totally, I’m in the mood for a burrito today.’

Bob nodded, smiling from ear to ear before turning back to face the front of the class.

*****

Bob felt his stomach rumbling as he sat at an empty table waiting for you. Scanning the room for anyone he might know, he picked out quite a few familiar faces. None of them yours. You were only a few minutes late. Checking his phone again for a new message, he was a little disappointed.

Loot: I’m caught up here, can you grab me a burrito and I’ll meet you there asap x

That little ‘x’. It was friendly, not necessarily romantic.

You’re overthinking every little thing, he thought. Now your nerves are shot!

Bob didn’t curse a whole lot but he felt he needed to right now. He hadn’t eaten at all day, he’d been too nervous.

When you walked through he door, his stomach did a somersault. You looked around until you spotted him, giving him a little wave and a smile as you made your way to the table.

‘Thanks for the burrito. So sorry I’m late.’

Bob waved the apology away. ‘You look nice today.’

‘So do you.’

‘Oh and extra guac on the side! Bob you are a dream.’

‘You said you liked things on the side for dipping,’ he nodded, remembering your animated monologue about lubricating your food with dips.

‘Handsome, smart and a good listener. I like having you around.’ You got right into that burrito. Bob watched you until he decided he looked a bit creepy.

‘You not hungry?’ Quizzically pointing over at his untouched lunch.

‘I am, I am.’ He forced down a mouthful. ‘Listen, I enjoyed our time together last week.’

Bob could see your face fall a little, ‘but?’

‘But?’ Bob repeated your question. ‘No, no but. I’m trying to ask you out again. You know? The boat idea?’

You sat back in your chair, relieved. ‘Why my mind go to rejection immediately?’

‘It’s usually me as the rejectee, not the rejecter.’ Bob shrugged.

A silence sat between you for a beat, you were both smiling at each other.

‘We can skip the boat date and go straight to making out in the supplies closet down the hall.’ You said it so casually that Bob glanced around to see if anyone had overheard.

‘The supply closet just down that hallway?’

“mmhmm,’ you kept eating.

Bob had seen people sneaking in and out of that closet, he was no fool, he just never thought it would be him sneaking in there.

Bob stood suddenly, towering over you in all of his 6 foot glory. He nodded his head toward the exit, face unreadable.

There was no mistaking what he was insinuating. You widened your eyes in response, squeezing your legs together in anticipation.

It was less than two minutes that Bob had been standing in the closet, neatly stacked shelves of cleaning products up to the ceiling, the chipped linoleum was spotless, he kicked at the worn out spot beneath him with the toe of his boot. Were you coming or was this a joke at his expense? It wouldn’t have been the first time a girl had told him to meet her somewhere and never show up.

Bob knew you weren’t like them, you weren’t mean. You were sweet. You and your bright smile, soft hair and wet mouth.

He looked up startled when the door was flung open, he almost expected to see a superior officer standing on the threshold, demanding to know why he was standing in a closet alone. But it was you. A breeze of your perfume came in right along with you, pulling the door closed, you kept your hand on on the knob. ‘You look surprised. But…you did invite me here, right?’ Voice like smoked caramel, that’s all he could think as he watched your mouth. He was hardly listening to what you were saying. He just wanted your mouth on his.

‘C’mere.’ Bob reached out a hand, placing it at the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. Lips meeting a crash. Soft sucking noises turned to heaving breathing, tongues moving against each other hesitantly.

Bob’s free hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you impossibly close. He had been making ‘mmm’ noises frequently enough to make you smile.

‘What are you smiling about?’ His voice muffled in your mouth, kissing down the column of your throat to let you answer, Bob just wanted to keep you close, keep kissing you. Hot skin under your collar turning damp as he sucked a little bruise right where no one but you would see when you took your shirt off.

‘I’m smiling coz I’m kissin’ you Bob. I’ve been thinking about you and me and doing this. And you make these sweet sounds when we’re making out.’ You had your head tipped back, eyes closed, both of your hands were now pulling at the back of his shirt, hoping to feel his skin, even just a sliver would do.

Bob’s mouth left your collarbone, he looked up at you through those birth control glasses, his lips moving like he was saying something that you couldn’t hear. ‘I…I…what?’ Cheeks pink under the horrid fluorescent light. His eyes were dazed, like he was waking up from a sweet dream.

‘You make these happy sounds in your throat,’ finger tips reaching out to touch his adam’s apple. ‘It really fuckin’ turns me on.’

Bob swallowed hard, not sure what to say. So he said nothing, he grabbed your chin and brought his mouth to yours in a desperate kiss.

‘How long we got left before lunch is done?’ Tongues meeting, hot breath fanning across your faces. You slipped your hands out of the white t-shirt Bob was wearing under his khaki shirt. He whimpered. ‘Probably cutting it close right now.’

Bob pressed his forehead to yours, making an effort to slow his breathing. Blood was rushing in his ears, cock straining against his zipper. He was dying to ask you to grab a hold of him but here was not the place and now was not the time.

It was you that moved first, holding your hands against his shoulders, ‘as much as I’d love to continue, we definitely need to get out of here and pretend like we weren’t sucking the face off of each other.’ A small laugh was shared between you.

‘I’ll go first, see if the coast is clear.’ Bob nodded in agreement, he needed a sec to adjust himself. He reached out for your hand, giving it a little squeeze. You squeezed back in a silent promise, ‘I’ll talk to you real soon.’

Your lips were a little swollen, your love bite only partially visible before you did up your button. Turning to say goodbye, you watched for a moment as Bob stuffed the back of his shirt back into his pants. If it were at all possible for you to be more horny for this man right now, he winked at you. He fucking winked at you.

Knees like jelly and a tide of arousal hitting you between your legs, you stuck your head out of the door and nodded.

‘Later Floyd.’

‘Yeah, see you later, Loot.’ Bob whispered, heart in his throat, wishing that you were still here.

You had been sitting at your desk for twenty minutes, sipping an impossibly hot coffee when your phone buzzed in your pocket. Deciding to ignore it, you were really trying to concentrate on the words on the screen, but your phone buzzed again.

Sighing, you took it out and saw two messages from Bob. A smile came easily, but you tried to keep your face neutral.

Bob: Ok, I rented a boat for Saturday, a row boat.

Bob: I’ll wear a sleeveless shirt so you can see my rippling muscles.

If there was no one else around, there would be some serious squeals of excitement filling the room. But you were a professional, so you smirked as you thought about how daring he must have felt to flirt with you over text. How bold he was to organise another date.

Loot: Perfect. But, I’ll only go if you don’t wear a shirt at all.

Bob: But then you’ll see my nipples.

You couldn’t help it, you giggled, causing your uber-serious desk neighbour to scowl at you.

Loot: Would you feel better if I didn’t wear a shirt either? That way our nipples could meet.

Bob saw your message and his throat dried up, Fanboy leaned over his shoulder, ‘hey who are you texting? Is it Loot? Tell her I said hi!’ Fanboy was forever cheerful.

‘Not the right time for that,’ Bob grumbled, moving his phone away from his friends view.

He’d never been good at flirting and he certainly had never been pursued by a woman like you, he wanted to get this right.

Bob: Whatever you wish, ma’am. I’m game.

His heart fluttered when you sent back a kiss emoji. He would row that boat naked for hours if it got him another make out session with you.