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good-chimes · 6 months

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THE DIVORCE OF THE CENTURY

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS BETWEEN GRIAN AND GOODTIMESWITHSCAR, DAY 1:

His Hon. Judge BdoubleO100: Silence in the court!

[Court is not silent]

His Hon. Judge Bdubs: Silence in the COURT! I can have you all HANGED!

[The court falls as silent as is possible with a dozen Hermits present]

Judge Bdubs: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—

Cleo: Ahem.

Judge Bdubs: WHAT?

Cleo: That’s for weddings, Bdubs. We’re not doing a wedding. In fact, if you think about it, this is about as far away from a wedding as you can get.

Judge Bdubs: Fine fine FINE. Dearly beloathed, we have all been dragged here today because SOME PEOPLE can’t get ALONG. Grian, step forward!

Grian: Do I— is this the podium for witnesses? Who built this and why did they make it out of nothing but trapdoors? So. Okay. I’m filing for divorce.

Scar: Wait, I thought I was filing for divorce.

Judge Bdubs: LET THE DEFENDANT SPEAK.

Ren: Bdubs, my man, that’s the petitioner. The court hasn’t accused Grian of any crimes.

Cleo: [darkly] Yet.

Grian: I haven’t done any crimes! I’m filing for divorce from Scar, obviously. As my lawyer will tell you—

Judge Bdubs: Do you have a lawyer?

Grian: Yes, your Honor. This is my defense lawyer Mumbo Jumbo Esq. [Waggles a hand behind his back and hisses] Mumbo!

Judge Bdubs: Mumbo’s your defense lawyer? Aren’t you supposed to have a divorce lawyer?

Mumbo: [steps forward and bows nervously] Well, I’ve never divorced anyone, but I have got a lot of experience in defending, er, mainly myself, come to think of it, and also my valuables. From Grian, as a matter of fact. So I think I’ll stick with ‘defense lawyer’ if that’s alright with the court, thank you.

Judge Bdubs: [leans aside to confer with Cleo] Is that alright with the court? Ask Joe.

[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms this is probably alright with the court]

Judge Bdubs: Good, good, next! Scar, do you have a lawyer?

Scar: Oh, absolutely. My lawyer is this cat I found outside.

Judge Bdubs: Not Jellie?

Scar: Jellie doesn’t believe we’re really divorcing and wouldn’t come.

Judge Bdubs: Is this cat a qualified divorce lawyer?

Scar: She’s a—let me look at those markings—she’s clearly a personal injury attorney.

Cleo: Have you been personally injured, Scar?

Scar: Why, thank you for asking, I have. My feelings have been very hurt!

Ren: Uh, Bdubs, maybe the court should establish some facts. Why they’re divorcing, what the court can do for them, that sort of thing.

Judge Bdubs: YES. Let’s start with the facts. Now, we all know why you and Scar got married in the first place. Don’t stand there and make that innocent face at me, Grian, I know all the secrets. You got married because Etho and I had the WEDDING OF THE CENTURY last month and you were JEALOUS—no, don’t talk, THE JUDGE IS TALKING—you were jealous of us. [aside] Bdubs and Etho had the wedding of the century, Joe, are you writing this down?

Court Scribe JoeHills: Yep, your Honor, I’ve written that down.

Grian: It wasn’t that good.

Judge Bdubs: YOU TAKE THAT BACK.

Grian: Etho had his bouquet wrapped in a Kleenex box.

Scar: [sentimentally] Don’t you listen to him, Bdubs, I thought the flower arch was lovely.

Judge Bdubs: Thank you, Scar! I—

Cleo: You can’t find in favor of Scar because he said something nice about your own wedding decorations.

Judge Bdubs: [with dignity] —was NOT going to do that. Ahem. So, you and Scar got married because you were jealous—

Grian: We didn’t! It wasn’t like that!

Judge Bdubs: —and now you want to get divorced. Why?

[At this point Petitioner Grian and Petitioner Scar, who have been studiously avoiding each other’s gazes, appear to lock eyes by accident. They both jerk away like they’ve touched a blaze rod. Grian immediately swivels to face the bench, and this scribe has to note that at normal times Grian’s stare is disconcertingly like two soulless voids looking back at you, so it’s even worse when he’s attempting a poker face. Scar becomes very interested in his cat defense lawyer and doesn’t look at Grian at all.]

Grian: The thing is, you see, this marriage was a scam from the start.

EVIDENCE #1

[Dramatization by Court Scribe from participant testimony]

One month previously, a note landed in Scar’s bedroom attached to a firework rocket with a red bow and rose. This was very romantic, or at least it would have been romantic if the rocket hadn’t lodged in the rafters and set itself and a chunk of the surrounding wall on fire, but in any case it was clearly Grian making an effort, so Scar deciphered the coordinates scribbled on the charred note and set off to find out what was going on.

They pointed to a spot in the middle of nowhere. In Scar’s long experience of Grian, this meant an equal chance that they were going to make out or he was going to get inventively murdered, but this was always a gamble worth the odds.

But when he arrived, on a green hill in a quiet spot of the server, it was neither. The top of the hill had been leveled off and covered with birch wood, on which Grian was industriously spelling out something with white wool, though Scar couldn’t make out the words from his low angle of approach. Grian stopped when he spotted Scar and launched up to meet him. His wings beat so fast they were nearly vibrating.

“Scar,” Grian said, “Scar.” His grin was one of a cat who had stolen not only the cream, but the milk, the cow, and everyone else’s cows for good measure. “Scar, I’ve had an idea.”

This was clearly a planning-a-prank type of meeting, which probably meant no making out, but Grian’s pranks were not to be missed. “I’m in,” Scar said. “Do we get fancy costumes? I want a fancy costume.”

“No, Scar, that’s not the point—wait, yes, actually.” Grian angled his wings to carve tight spirals around Scar’s coasting flight, always a sign of excitement, and nudged the angle of their joint descent to land on top of the white wool scrawls. “Yes, fancy costumes are a big part of it, but that’s not—listen, this is my big gesture. Just look down.”

Scar looked down. The wool said, WILL YOU MARR.

“I ran out of wool,” Grian said. He flapped a hand. “Just because it’s a big gesture doesn’t mean it has to be finished.”

“What was it supposed to say?” Scar said innocently.

“Scar!” Grian shifted from foot to foot when he got agitated, which was always funny. “Fine! Okay! Stand there.”

The hidden trapdoor beneath their feet gave way as Grian pressed a switch. Scar yelped for form’s sake, but nothing exploded, and the only thing at the bottom of their tumbled slide was an underground bunker.

It had a table, and two chairs, and a huge corkboard on the otherwise blank walls. Grian had always had a thing for bunkers.

“This,” Grian said, with a flourish, “is the Wedding War Room.”

Scar looked around the bunker and asked the important question. “Are you going to decorate it?”

“Am I going to—no, listen, that’s not the point either. You can decorate it, if you want. The point is, you know how Bdubs and Etho got married?”

“It was beautiful,” Scar agreed immediately. “That wedding chapel? Incredible, honestly, Bdubs is a true artist. Oh! Remember the part where Etho put a river of lava through the chapel roof and glitched it into a heart?”

“Okay, but, you know what Bdubs and Etho got?

“Eternal happiness?”

“Scar.”

“No, what?”

“Bdubs and Etho got royal diamonds,” Grian said impressively. “From the vault.”

“Are they still royal diamonds if Ren’s not king anymore?” Scar said. “I thought we blew up the vault, anyway. You blew it up. I was there.”

“Do you pay any attention to anything that’s not Scarland?” Grian said. “Mumbo didn’t know what to do with the diamonds so he and Iskall built a new vault. I think Mumbo and Iskall and Impulse are the only ones who really know how to get into it. Anyway, everyone got so warm and fuzzy about Bdubs and Etho’s wedding that they all decided to open the vault up and just gave them diamonds.”

“Free diamonds?” Scar said thoughtfully.

“Free diamonds!” Grian’s eyes glittered. “Think of that vault. Stacks on stacks on stacks of diamonds. Thousands of diamonds! We could have some of those, for nothing, just by saying some words. And that’s not even mentioning the wedding presents! We’re out here spending days and days grinding resources and stocking our shops when we could be swimming in it! That could be us, Scar.” Scar had entirely forgotten the lack of interior decorations; he always did, when Grian got on a roll as mesmerizing as this.“And so,” Grian took a deep breath and held out his hand, “Scar, will you marry me?”

Scar took his hand with an enormous wave of affection. “Grian,” he said sincerely, “I have never, in my whole life, wanted to marry anyone more.”

EVIDENCE #2

Mumbo took the news more earnestly than Grian had expected.

“Oh,” said Mumbo. “Oh, haha, wow—seriously? Scar said something and I thought it was just a joke, but you guys actually… Wow!” He cleared his throat. “Grian, mate, it’s been a long time coming. I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t get sappy,” Grian said. “It’s just a wedding. I mean,” he clarified, “it’s a very important wedding, obviously, because it’s my wedding, but I don’t need you to get sappy about it. I don’t even need you to talk about it. I just need you to bring diamonds.”

“I didn’t even know you were going to ask him,” Mumbo said, ignoring the very clear instructions Grian had just given him. “Or did he ask you, or—mate, that’s just brilliant. This is brilliant. Is it because Bdubs and Etho had that wedding? That was really beautiful, I don’t mind saying, I got a little bit teary.”

“This has nothing to do with any weddings anyone else had,” Grian said with dignity. “Our wedding will be better, but that’s unrelated. I didn’t come here to talk about that. I came here to ask you something.” He took hold of Mumbo’s hand in the most meaningful grip he could muster. “Mumbo, we’ve been friends for years, right?”

“Of course,” Mumbo said nervously.

Grian gave it a second’s pause for the sake of drama. “Mumbo Jumbo, will you be my best man?”

“Ah,” Mumbo said, which was not what Grian had expected. “Ah. Er. Might be a problem there.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Well, you see, five minutes ago, Scar…”

EVIDENCE #3

<Grian> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> yES?

<Grian> my base.

<Grian> now.

<GoodTimeWithScar> On my way

GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard

<GoodTimeWithScar> oNE MINUTE

<Grian> come in the back door

GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard

<GoodTimeWithScar> Was that a trap??

<Grian> mumbo is mine

<GoodTimeWithScar> No he isn’t, Mister!

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]

<Grian> MUMBO IS MINE

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Vindicator

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]

<Renthedog>: :o

GoodTimeWithScar burned to death

<Renthedog> Everything okay there, gentlemen?

<Grian> best man debate

GoodTimeWithScar was poked to death by a sweet berry bush

<Grian> all settled now

<Renthedog> wait

<EthosLab> Wait

<BdoubleO100> WAIT

<TangoTek> are you two…?

<Grian> invitations dropping tomorrow. wedding gift mandatory.

<GoodTimeWithScar> Come one, Come all!

<Grian> only diamonds will be considered real presents

<PearlescentMoon> huh

<impulseSV> omg finally! So happy for you guys!

<PearlescentMoon> be honest Grian, is this because Bdubs and Etho got married and you had to one-up them?

<Grian> NO IT IS NOT

EVIDENCE #4

The bachelor party negotiations were even more hard-fought than the best man.

They held the impromptu negotiations in the Wedding War Room, which was now covered with loving maps and hundreds of bits of paper that neither of them had read since putting them up there. They looked good, though, so Scar kept adding more.

There was a pile of paper strips on the table in front of them. Scar and Grian sat facing off like two negotiators at a ceasefire.

“Mumbo’s my best man,” Grian said, picking the first name off the pile without breaking eye contact and moving it to his side of the table, “so he comes to my party.” Scar gave in with a modicum of grace. The possibility of having bachelor parties at different times had been wordlessly considered and then summarily dismissed by both combatants.

Scar escalated it to a blood sport as he picked up the next bit of paper. “Pearl’s coming to my party.”

Grian yelped and grabbed Scar’s wrist. “She is not. I knew her first!”

“I know her better,” Scar countered. “Or at least,” he added, “I know her building style better.”

“You can’t just steal my friend because you like her building! That’s not how that works!”

“I think she’d enjoy it,” Scar said meditatively. “I’m going to have champagne. Glitter. Razzmatazz.”

“I will have more champagne,” Grian said mutinously. He hadn’t taken his hand off Scar’s wrist. “And more razzmatazz. You can’t have Pearl.”

“Oh, all right then,” Scar said, since Pearl was one of Grian’s oldest friends and he’d never had a chance of getting her anyway. Grian plucked the piece of paper out of his hand and put it on top of Mumbo’s paper. “I get Bdubs, though.”

That was a given. Grian didn’t seriously dispute it, though he opened his mouth to try. “I—yes, fine. You can have Bdubs.” Scar swept the piece of paper to his own side of the table.

“And that means,” Scar proceeded, with the grand momentum of a train starting to roll, “that I get Etho, as well.” He shuffled through the bits of paper and displayed Etho’s name like a magic trick.

He watched Grian calculate his chances of getting Etho if Bdubs was going to Scar’s party. “…okay, yeah, you get Etho.”

“Also that means I get Cleo,” Scar said. “She’ll come if Bdubs does. We don’t want to split up friends.” He drew Cleo’s name towards him, sliding another couple of slips underneath it at the same time. “Oh, and Joe as well, if Cleo’s coming.”

“What’s that other one?” Grian said suspiciously. He trapped Scar’s hand and pried out the third name. “What—no, you can’t have Ren.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Scar said in his most reasonable voice. “Hear me out. I have Cub, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, I have Cub, and Bdubs, and Cleo, and Joe, so, by royal decree…”

“You can’t have Ren just because the five of you were in a royal murder cult with him!”

“Excuse me, mister, that wasn’t a cult. That was the royal court!”

“It was too a cult,” said Grian, a man who had once persuaded Ren into living in camper vans in the woods with him for weeks in order to break into a military base and steal a magic box.

Ren’s name was already safely on Scar’s side of the table. “And if I have Ren, then I have to have Doc—”

“Look, Scar, if you get all of Bdubs’ current and former exes—”

“—what’s a ‘current ex’—”

“—Etho and don’t interrupt me, if you get everyone Bdubs has ever had a relationship plus their plus ones you get ninety percent of our friends.”

“Is it my fault I throw good parties?” Scar protested. “Look, you can have—”

“I’m having Impulse,” Grian interrupted, pulling his name out. “I need more redstoners.”

“What for?”

Grian waved a hand. “You just need them around.” Scar nodded, unable to find a flaw in the logic. “Also I get Joel. And Martyn. And Timmy.”

“I built Jimmy a train,” Scar objected. He put his fingertips on the other end of Jimmy’s name while Grian attempted to steal it.

“All right, this is the ‘disputed’ pile,” Grian said, pushing it to the side. “Who else?”

Now they had a disputed pile, it started filling up. “If I have Cleo,” Scar said, “then technically I should have Scott—”

“You can’t keep using that trick!”

“Then how are we going to fix it, Grian?” Scar’s tone was eminently reasonable. “I think we should just let people be friends.”

“They are friends,” Grian said. “They’re friends with me.”

“They could be friends with me.”

“Tell you what,” Grian said, a warlike gleam coming into his eyes. “We’ll ask them.”

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Bdubs: So that’s how the split started?

Cleo: You weren’t even married at that point.

Grian: Right! Exactly! We weren’t even married and Scar used underhand methods to steal my friends!

Scar: Excuse me. You went around the server threatening everyone who you didn’t think was coming to your party. Talk about underhand methods! I just offered them a good time.

Grian: Your bribed them! You bribed them to come to your bachelor party! [stabs a finger at Judge Bdubs] You even bribed him, so I don’t know why we put him in charge of this divorce.

Judge Bdubs: Nobody is allowed to question the integrity of the judge! I am as PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW.

Scar: That’s a good point. I gave you netherite, Bdubs, you should be ruling in my favor.

Judge Bdubs: You gave me ONE netherite ingot, I’m not giving you a ruling for that.

Scar: Grian, I think this judge is biased.

Judge Bdubs: HOW DARE YOU.

Grian: Scar is right, this judge is corrupt! I can’t believe we were forced into this farce of a trial and the judge is corrupt! Joe, I demand a new judge.

[Court Scribe JoeHills indicates that he is pretty sure this whole divorce trial was Grian’s idea in the first place, and also that judges cannot usually be replaced just like that, and the Court Scribe personally does not have a reserve list]

Judge Bdubs: I refuse to SIT HERE and be SLANDERED! You’re both guilty! [slams gavel] TAKE THEM TO THE DUNGEONS.

[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms that the petitioners have not actually been accused of anything—despite obviously having committed many crimes, Cleo would like to me to record—so cannot be found guilty, and in any case we don’t have any dungeons]

Judge Bdubs: Fine! I give up! CLEO, YOU’RE THE JUDGE NOW.

Judge Cleo: Wait, am I?

[Judge Bdubs forcibly transfers the judicial wig to Cleo, upon which the snakes in her hair make a spirited attempt to eat it.]

Scar: Can we get on with it?

Judge Cleo: Yes, you can shut up. You can all shut up! Thank you. That’s better. Are you sure you two can’t just settle it out of court so we can all go home?

Grian: No, we can’t. Me and Scar have [checks his notes] undergone an irreparable breakdown.

Scar: Sure, we might have had an eruptable breakdown, but you can’t say it was my fault. I tried to make it work. I built us a honeymoon island! It had palm trees and deckchairs and everything. I’m coming here in good faith and I deserve to be the innocent party.

Grian: I want all the diamonds Scar has.

Judge Cleo: Joe, is he allowed to ask for that?

[Court Scribe diligently references the law summary he found on the internet, suggests that at this stage the judge can grant temporary financial orders on petitioner request]

Grian: Fine, I want half of Scar’s diamonds.

Scar: I need all my diamonds for Scarland materials!

Grian: They’re not your diamonds! They’re my diamonds!

Scar: Then I get half of all your dark prismarine, thank you very much, that will be amazingly useful.

Grian: You’re not touching my dark prismarine! I’ll sell it all if you try!

Judge Cleo: Nobody is touching anyone else’s anything! Ren, stop laughing, this is a serious courtroom. Grian, you’re not allowed to sell your dark prismarine. Scar, you’re not allowed to hide any of your diamonds. Everyone is going to keep things exactly as they are until this trial is done.

Grian: Do you trust him? Look at him, look at his face, would you trust that man? Of course you wouldn’t! All the diamonds should stay in my base while we’re having the trial.

Scar: This is outrageous! This is an outrageous demand! You can’t just question a man’s honor like that!

Judge Cleo: Well, put them somewhere safe. Joe can keep them.

Grian: [grudgingly] I suppose we could put them in the Royal Vault.

Judge Cleo: You want to put your valuables in escrow?

Scar: I don’t see what birds have to do with it.

[Short pause while the concept of ‘escrow’ is explained to both petitioners]

Scar: Well, I’ll do it, but I think Grian should put all his resources in nestcrow. Seeing as it’s all his fault.

Grian: I did everything right! I was the perfect groom!

Judge Cleo: You know, Grian, somehow I have my doubts. Go back to your marriage testimony. What happened next?

EVIDENCE #5

“Ahem,” said Mumbo. “Ahem.”

Grian rolled his eyes, jumped up on a table, decided that wasn’t good enough, flew up and perched on the light fitting, and yelled, “Everyone! It’s happening! The best man is speaking!”

Silence fell.

“I was actually going to announce you,” Mumbo said. He cleared his throat. “All right! So! This… is a bachelor party!”

The bachelor party–all three of them–looked at each other.

“Woohoo!” said Iskall.

“Party time!” tried Pearl gamely.

“I was promised champagne,” said Scott, who had been lured through the portal with one bribe only.

“There will be champagne,” said Mumbo. “As best man, it is my job to plan the bachelor party, and to plan a party that is… appropriate, and thoughtful, and informed by my long friendship with Grian, so,” he coughed, “if everyone could check the boxes under their chairs for supplies, we do have an event. Sort of thing. Kind of a party game.”

“Er,” said Pearl, checking under her chair. “This is… quite a lot of...”

Iskall started to giggle.

“Seriously, I was promised champagne,” said Scott.

“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that,” Mumbo said. “First, we’re going to sneak into the other party and blow them all up.”

“...so many ender crystals…” whispered Pearl.

“Look how they sparkle!” said Iskall.

“What about the—”

“And! When they’re all dead,” said Mumbo, “we can take their champagne.”

Grian flew down from the light fitting and landed in front of Mumbo. His eyes were shining. He took Mumbo’s hands in his. “Mumbo,” he breathed. “I’ve changed my mind. Can I marry you instead?”

“Er,” said Mumbo. “No?”

“Did you even order any refreshments?” said Scott.

“Listen,” Mumbo said, “it’s Grian’s party, we were going to end up doing this anyway, and it’ll be fun.”

“Dibs on blowing up Scar!” said Grian.

“We understand, Grian,” said Pearl.

“I suppose that’s sort of romantic?” said Scott in an undertone. “You’d think he’d have more trauma about it, after all the–”

“This is going to be so funny,” Grian said, scooping up handfuls of ender crystals. “Best–best man–ever.”

EVIDENCE #6

The actual wedding was a subdued affair.

The wedding venue had just about survived, by virtue of being several hundred blocks away from either bachelor party, though the smoking craters were visible in the background. From the front, the building was a charming mansion with flowers in every window. From every other angle it might be a gray shell, but Grian was a very busy person who was getting married and he couldn’t be expected to get to everything.

On the morning of the wedding, when Grian finally pieced himself together and dragged himself back from respawn he was met by the two Best Man candidates: Mumbo, who was sitting on the step of the venue dismally trying to piece his scorched suit back together, and Cub, who was completely unruffled and appeared to be doing a crossword.

“Oh, Grian, you made it.” Mumbo abandoned his scorched hems in relief. “Some people haven’t even respawned yet. We really do need Scar, though—”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Scar, impeccably dressed in a blue morning suit, swooped in from above, trailing flowers and losing his top hat in the process. “Gosh. Nobody else made it, huh?”

“I don’t believe this,” Grian said. “None of them?”

“Weren’t you supposed to open the portal again for the Empires people?”

“I forgot,” Grian said. “But we can’t focus on that. We have to focus on the fact that at least twenty Hermits promised to come, and now they aren’t here.”

“I, um,” Mumbo said. “I take full responsibility for the original idea, but I think the seventh time you blew up Bdubs and Ren and Doc and Zedaph you did blow up all their stuff as well. And I think some people got hit so hard they won’t respawn for a week.”

“That was their fault,” Grian said. “For being in the way of my ender crystals.”

“Seven times?” Cub said.

“Oh, as if you’ve never blown up someone and all their stuff seven times and pushed their respawn into next week.”

“So, what?” Scar said. “Do we just…not have a wedding?”

Mumbo coughed. “I think you should still get married.”

“What?”

“I just think,” Mumbo gestured vaguely. “You know, your whole thing. And Jevin made you the suits and everything. It would be a shame. You could have an intimate wedding without any guests, you know. I’m just saying.”

Grian attempted to trade a skeptical look with Scar. This didn’t work, as Scar had gone faintly red and wasn’t looking at him. “An intimate wedding, you mean, right here?” Scar said. “Now? Oh, yes, of course, but you know, now I come to think about it, I don’t know I can get married.”

This smelled like weakness. “What’s wrong with marrying me?” Grian demanded. “Are you backing out?”

“No, I—I need my top hat! I can't get married without my top hat!”

“Are you scared, Scar?”

“Of course I'm not scared!” Scar said indignantly. “We’ll do it right now! Who’s marrying us? Oh—Joe’s still respawning, isn’t he? Cub, you can do it, can’t you? Cub’s an ordained priest, you know.”

“That’s right,” Cub said agreeably.

“Is he?” Grian said suspiciously. “Which religion?”

Cub’s faint smile didn’t change at all. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You don’t want to think too hard about it,” Scar said breezily. “But he’s very official! Very well-respected in the community.”

In all their planning, Grian had given no thought at all to the actual wedding. He was nearly certain that the chanting from the officiant was supposed to be pleasant and inoffensive, about, well, love and stuff, and he was also fairly sure the officiant’s eyes were not supposed to turn black as a flaming rift appeared behind him spewing an unknowable sense of dread, but at that point Scar kissed Grian thoroughly, and that lasted so long that Mumbo had to break it up after a few minutes with a polite cough, and by that time Cub had finished chanting and gone back to his crossword.

“That was very touching,” Mumbo said, apparently relieved they weren’t still kissing right in front of him. “Shame about the guests, but you can’t have everything.”

“Shocking,” Scar agreed. “Do they still have to give us presents? Maybe if we waited a week and did it again? I have to say, I could use a little more time to get the trees right on Honeymoon Island.”

“We’re not having a honeymoon, Scar, I told you,” Grian said. “This wedding is just business, and we don’t have any business without the presents.”

Mumbo was wearing the expression that Grian had always vaguely compared to an accountant breaking the bad news about something unspeakable going on in the stockmarket. “To be honest with you,” Mumbo said, “I don’t think many of them were in a present-giving mood. I think, um, you might have to write off the presents.”

“Are you telling me,” Grian said, “that this whole scheme has been a complete failure?”

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: So, let me get this straight, the plan was to scam all of us—

Scar: Scam is a strong word. More like a trade, if you think about it! A trade where we get presents and you get a warm sense of fuzziness and wellbeing.

Judge Cleo: —exactly, to scam us, and it all went wrong, and you realized the marriage was a mistake? That was weeks ago, though. What happened between that and the divorce?

EVIDENCE #7

LIST OF POST-WEDDING WRONGDOING COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR, VARIOUS (condensed from two hours of court arguments)

i. “Well, then I took some deepslate from Grian because I needed it for Scarland, which is just borrowing, if you think about it.”

ii. “Scar really owed me diamonds because it was his fault the scam didn’t work.”

iii. Lengthy descriptions of the damage from ensuing weeks-long prank war.

iv. “He should honestly have expected me to put chickens in his storage system.”

v. Evidence received from Xisuma that this lagged out the entire server.

vi. Evidence received from Grian that Scarland lags out the entire server anyway and this is probably a crime so why can’t the court do something about that.

vii. Strong representations from both sides that the other one snores and hogs the covers and this probably ought to be a crime.

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: [face down on judicial bench] Have they stopped talking yet?

Court Scribe JoeHills: No, they’re still going.

EVIDENCE #8

FURTHER LIST OF WRONGDOINGS COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR

viii. “Yes I did blow him up after that, but it’s not illegal if it’s funny.”

ix. Complicated debate about whether ensuing sabotage was funny enough not to be illegal.

x. Representations from Grian that everything is Scar’s fault with absolutely no legal backing at all.

xi. Representations from Scar, ditto, with the addition of fake law he says his cat defense attorney told him.

xii. At this point, Court Scribe JoeHills has given up attempting to make sense of the petitioners’ ongoing argument.

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: Enough! ENOUGH! No! Shut up! If I have to listen to one more attempt at utterly specious reasoning from either of you I am going to pick up this gavel and I am going to drive its handle through my own skull. This is definitely both your fault, you are terrible people, and I hope you get divorced harder than anyone has ever got divorced in history.

[Mildly stunned silence in the court]

Judge Cleo: Right. Good. I am about to quit. But before I quit, because Joe asked me nicely to come here today, I am going to order one of you to serve the other with divorce papers before tomorrow. That’s the next thing on the list: one of you has to formally divorce the other. No, I am not going to hear any more arguments, I’m done with this whole thing, you can find a new judge. Yes, Scar?

Scar: [lowers his tentatively raised hand] How do we know which one divorces the other one?

Judge Cleo: [looks blank] Well… I suppose it’s who serves their papers first?

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: SCAR

Body of complaint: Grian wont accept divorce papers and keeps avoiding me.

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: GRIAN

Body of complaint: scar didn’t take a single copy of the papers despite the fact i filled his bedroom with them

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: SCAR

Body of complaint: Grian paid impulse to make a divorce paper printing redstone machine. It feels like this, should be Illegal!

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: GRIAN

Body of complaint: scar employed my best man to make him a rival printing machine. this is sabotage.

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: ZEDAPH

Body of complaint: Er, I know you’re doing a whole trial thingummy, but I would really like to be able to move around my base without swimming through mountains of divorce papers. Does it look like this is going to be possible any time in the near future?

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: DOCM77

Body of complaint: WHY HAVE SEVENTY THOUSAND BADLY-PRINTED COPIES OF DIVORCE PAPERS BEEN SHOVELED INTO THE PERIMETER! I AM HOLDING ALL OF YOU PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE! I WILL RAIN DOWN FIRE AND BLOOD!

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 2:

Judge Mumbo: Right, so, apparently I’m supposed to be ruling on who served who with papers.

Scar: Excuse me! Objection! This new judge is clearly biased.

Grian: No, he’s not. This is all completely fine. Mumbo can be the judge now, and he can just wear a different hat when he’s being my lawyer.

Judge Mumbo: I am a bit biased, I have to admit.

Grian: No you’re not, Mumbo.

Scar: Admit it, there can’t be a fair trial for Grian under these circumstances!

Judge Mumbo: Uh—

Scar: Because I know Mumbo, and he can’t resist these…HoTgUy abs!

[Minor chaos as the court attempts to enforce a dress code]

Judge Mumbo: [removes his wig] Sorry, Grian, he’s right. Scar’s papers are accepted.

Grian: TRAITOR.

Mumbo: Scar, can I have another calendar?

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:

Judge Ren: Court is called to order! Where’s—oh, there you are. Scar, you’re late.

Scar: Sorry! I was working on our honeymoon island.

Grian: What do you mean, our honeymoon island? Scar, we’re divorcing.

Scar: That doesn't mean you can just abandon a build, Grian. Some of us don't leave our backsides unfinished.

Cleo: Someone please get Ren a glass of water, I think he’s going to choke.

Judge Ren: Ahem. Now, gentlemen, I understand Scar is filing for divorce from Grian on the grounds of [checks his notes] desertion, abandonment, and unreasonable behavior.

Grian: Excuse me, what! If I’ve been unreasonable, what about him?

Scar: I have been a model of rationality and recti— rectic— ridiclitude.

Judge Ren: Indeed. I have heard Scar always finishes his backsides.

Grian: I’ll give you unreasonable behavior! This whole thing is your fault! If your bachelor party hadn’t been so badly defended I wouldn’t have been able to blow you all up.

Scar: Well, mister, if you hadn’t overthrown Ren in the first place he might have shown up to our wedding in spite of it!

Grian: If you’d been better at your job I wouldn’t have been ABLE to overthrow him!

Scar: You—you—oooh, I oughta—

Grian: [tauntingly] Ought to what?

Judge Ren: Scar, no, not in court…!

Scar: HOTGUY! [Retrieves bow from improbably small pocket and summarily murders his co-petitioner on the witness. Chaos ensues. Trial name hastily changed.]

TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1:

Judge Ren: Listen, Scar, did you, or did you not, kill another petitioner right in front of me?

Scar: What? Oh, yeah, I just shot Grian.

Judge Ren: You can’t just—My dude, this might have been a crime of passion, but you understand this is a court and that was murder, right?

Cleo: Objection.

Judge Ren: Yes?

Cleo: We can’t start prosecuting for murder now.

[Pause as the court considers the comprehensive history of all Hermits present.]

TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:

Judge Ren: [once Grian has returned from spawn] You’re going to have to come to some sort of agreement, gentlemen. It’s been days.

Grian: I think we should fight.

Judge Ren: This court does not do trial by combat. I refuse to be witness to such barbarity.

Cleo: I mean…if you think about it, it would stop them arguing.

Judge Ren: …

Judge Ren: I think I could stand to watch someone else compromise their morals. From a distance. Who wants this wig?

Judge Pearl: [settling in at the bench] Right! I think you two should fight. To the death.

Grian: LET’S FIGHT.

Judge Pearl: Riding ravagers.

Scar: What?

Judge Pearl: It would be funny.

Scar: Ravagers, though—

Grian: Don’t listen to Scar, he just murdered me. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Scar: Alright! Alright, we can fight, but I’m only doing it if it’s somewhere dramatic.

Grian: …What do you mean, dramatic?

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3 (CONTINUED):

[The court has moved proceedings from its custom-built courthouse to a location considered ‘acceptably dramatic’ by Petitioner Scar. We are now in the dim, cavernous monolith of the Royal Vault, where the walls are sheer deepslate lit only by flickering lanterns, and mountains of diamonds and chests gleam softly in the shadowed gloom. The court is gathered here to watch the petitioners fight symbolically over their own escrowed valuables, which are piled in the middle of a stone platform built by Grian and Pearl, and see a final conclusion to this bitterly-fought split. At either end of the platform are pens with two enraged ravagers donated by Tango, salivating at the buffet of violence and blood about to—]

Judge Pearl: [leans over the edge of her observation chair] Joe! What are you doing down there scribbling?

Court Scribe JoeHills: Oh, I’m just adding narrative color.

Judge Pearl: Well, stop doing that and pay attention to the fight! We’re about to start!

Bdubs: FIGHT!

Cub: Let’s go!

Mumbo: Grian, mate, you’ve got this.

Bdubs: RUN HIM THROUGH, SCAR. TEACH HIM TO MAKE FUN OF MY WEDDING DECORATIONS.

Doc: What happens if they both die? I would like them both to die.

Judge Pearl: Contestants! Mount your steeds!

Grian: [has succeeded in landing on his ravager’s back, something Scar has not yet managed] I want you to know, Scar, that whatever happens—

Judge Pearl: Scar! You can’t just stand there, you have to TRY to ride it.

Grian: —I think we can count this as a—

Bdubs: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Scar: [his head comes up to look at Grian] —a double victory?

[As if this is a code word, Grian and Scar’s gazes meet. The Court Scribe feels obliged to note that when Grian and Scar smile at the same time, history suggests something terrible is about to happen.]

Scar: Well, hello there, Mister Ravager! Would you like to get out of that pen?

Bdubs: Wait, what’s he—Scar, you ain’t supposed to break the wall that lets them at us! SABOTAGE!

Judge Pearl: GRIAN!

Grian: [shrieking as his ravager swerves into the crowd of spectators] Scar! The switch!

[Your trusty Court Scribe hurriedly dives out of the way as Scar flings himself into the pile of his and Grian’s valuables, where the tell-tale glint of redstone has been hidden under the piles of chests.]

Ren: Why do both of them have all those empty shulkers?

Cleo: Wait, wait, did we just give Grian and Scar unfettered access to all the diamonds in the vault?

Judge Pearl: WATCH OUT, THEY’VE HIDDEN TNT UNDER THE—

[Scar slams a switch. The world explodes. The Judge and most spectators are instantly blown up. The only survivors are your Court Scribe, who managed to get behind an obsidian pillar, and Cub, rising above the chaos on pre-equipped elytra wings with the philosophical serenity of someone who saw this coming.]

POSTSCRIPT

It’s a beautiful day, the sky is a clear and serene blue, and Grian and Scar have gotten away with everything.

Grian coasts joyfully ahead of Scar on outstretched wings, loaded down with boxes and boxes of ill-gotten diamonds, looping head-over-heels only when he can’t contain the energy bubbling through him. “We are the greatest, Scar. We are geniuses. We are the greatest geniuses who ever lived.”

“Oh, we are,” Scar agrees instantly. A lesser person might have pointed out their first plan failed spectacularly and their hasty second one only succeeded by luck, but this is why Grian married Scar specifically. Only he’s not married to Scar any more, is he? For one shining moment Grian had forgotten that.

The crater of the Royal Vault is far below and receding, the debris scattered like little jeweled toys. Grian is recalled to the present gleeful moment in which they are geniuses who have pulled the whole thing off and are richer than every other hermit put together. “Where are we going?”

“I was following you,” Scar says.

“I didn’t think this far ahead! I only planned up to the part where we stole everyone’s diamonds!”

“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Scar says confidently. “Change course to Honeymoon Island!”

Grian doesn’t have a good argument against that, and anyway, he’s too happy and diamond-dazzled to argue. Scar strikes out to the azure ocean and Grian dips into his wake and soars behind.

Scar has outdone himself, as usual. Honeymoon Island is just one long crescent-shaped beach with crystal seas, golden sands, palm trees, deck chairs, and—somehow—little iced coconut drinks that keep reappearing and each have a little paper umbrella. Naturally, Scar hasn’t thought of including a safe room for all their new valuables, so Grian has to dig out a makeshift bunker for all their ill-gotten gains, but when all that excitement is done, Grian throws himself onto a deckchair with a coconut drink and closes his eyes.

“So?” Scar says, in the expectant tone of someone who has spent three weeks fiddling with the palm trees that are currently casting an exquisitely-latticed shade over Grian’s eyelids, despite the fact they were technically divorcing all that time. “What do you think?”

“It is very pretty,” Grian admits grudgingly. “We can’t use it for a honeymoon, though. We’re divorced.”

“Are we divorced?” Scar is thoughtfully making origami out of his paper umbrella. “We did ditch them all before the trial officially finished.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely divorced. Super divorced.”

“I suppose you’re right. No honeymoon for us, then?”

An idyllic silence falls over the palm-fringed beach. The sea laps at the shining sands, creating a soft music from the shells and pebbles. The leaves rustle. This coconut drink in Grian’s hand is surprisingly good.

“Scar—”

“Hey, Grian—”

There is a pause.

“Go on,” Grian says impatiently.

“No, no, I think you should ask.”

“I asked last time!” This is ridiculous. It’s a shame Grian has been enchanted by the ridiculous for years now. “We’re probably not even talking about the same—”

Scar interrupts, which is rude, but unfortunately he’s picked his most golden and unfair voice, like the sea caressing the sand, and Grian is momentarily helpless. “Will you, Grian,” Scar says, “do me the great honor of marrying me? Again?”

Grian throws a paper umbrella at him. “Scar,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#fic #long post #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #bdoubleo100 #zombiecleo #joehills

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greenorangevioletgrass · 28 days

Text

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?”

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile. And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…”

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too.

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved.

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered.

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter, “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

#art donaldson #divorced!art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #divorced!art x reader #art donaldson fluff #eeeeeeeee im so h-word physically and emotionally for him #ava writes #challengers fic

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luveline · 1 month

Note

can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️

Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue.

It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.

“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.”

“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”

“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”

Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer.

You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing.

“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral.

“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.”

Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders.

He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful.

It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing.

They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door.

“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?”

“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says.

There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.”

Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table.

Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference.

Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in.

Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says.

You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?”

“The laughing.”

“You laugh.”

“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?”

“How’s Haley?” you ask.

He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.”

You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says.

“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says.

“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks.

It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel.

“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly.

Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck.

“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.”

Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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gurugirl · 6 months

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3. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The aftermath of that fateful night has lots of consequences. Not all of them are bad.

A/N: This is the final part! Based on this and this.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of divorce

The Unicorn Masterlist

You had to admit. The ensuite bathroom was really nice. But you couldn’t imagine enjoying the soaker tub with jets and soft fluffy towels as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took off your little pearl choker as tears continued to fall down your cheeks and you removed your sweater and skirt. It all felt so pointless. You had wasted so much time fretting over your outfit and matching it to your pearl choker and your pretty panties all for everything to just blow up completely. Now your favorite pink pearl choker was tainted and you’d probably never want to wear it again.

You should have said no to the proposition. You knew you should have listened to your gut. It was going to blow up and someone was going to get hurt.

Your night shorts and matching top were soft on your skin but you hated it because you’d also chosen this set with the thought that both Kit and Harry might see it. But you’d be sure they never did.

Setting your alarm for 5:00 am you climbed into the luxurious bed and rolled to your side hoping you could get some sleep so you could turn your brain off as you replayed every moment in your head over and over again.

. . .

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Harry,” Kit insisted.

“She can’t hear us in here, love. Come on. Let’s work something out. Things didn’t go like we thought… right? We don’t need to do it again.”

“I just… I need some space, H. That was a lot. I guess I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I can’t talk about it right now, though. I need to sleep on it. Away from you. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his wife’s hand, “I love you, Kitty. You know that right? I love you so much. You are the most important person to me in the world.”

Kit attempted a weak smile as she pulled her hand away and tucked herself into the blankets, “Can you turn the light off when you leave the room?”

. . .

Harry had been unable to sleep at all. The couch wasn’t a great spot to sleep but more than that, he was feeling guilty and trying to figure out how to fix the problem. He didn’t want you to feel bad, you hadn’t done anything wrong. But he did need to support his wife first and foremost. He’d need to insist she apologize and put it behind her but he didn’t want his wife to feel like he was taking your side either. Even though, in a way, he kind of was. You were the innocent party in all this. He’d gotten carried away. You both just clicked. The chemistry between you was impenetrable. So much so that he nearly forgot about his wife being there and said some things he didn’t really mean.

When he heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then saw the outline of your frame as you rushed toward the door he shot up from the couch and hurried toward you, “Y/n?”

You closed your eyes and stopped in your tracks. You hoped he was asleep and that you could leave without him knowing.

He put his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you and spoke quietly, “Are you okay to drive?” He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you into staying. Though in his mind, the best-case scenario was that the three of you could sit and talk and move on from the disaster of what had happened the night before. Maybe over coffee and waffles. He knew that was unlikely but he had hoped.

“I’m fine now. I just want to get out of here. I feel awful,” you turned yourself to look up at him in the dark.

“You don’t need to feel bad, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to understand that.”

“I just need to go. You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, Harry. For everything. Tell Kit how awful I feel and that I’m so sorry and never meant to hurt her.”

Harry frowned, “Don’t worry. Kit will feel better when she wakes up. I’ll talk to her. But you don’t owe anyone an apology.”

He put his arms around you and held you against his chest in a sweet hug. You could feel the thud of his heart under his pecs and inhaled his scent. You’d miss him. You’d miss Kit too. You’d especially miss William and Warner.

. . .

When you didn’t show up on Monday morning at the Styles’ house both Kit and Harry knew what was going on.

Kit had planned on apologizing to you for her behavior in person. She’d even planned to go to work a bit late that morning so all three of you could try and work it out. She was still feeling a bit betrayed by Harry and having a hard time unseeing and hearing what she had, but she knew her conduct had been out of line. She was acting on pure emotion and the wine exasperated her reaction. But that was no excuse.

“I can work from home today,” Harry said.

Kit shook her head, “I feel awful. I hurt her feelings. I was such a bitch to her and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should text her. Or go to her apartment and apologize to her face-to-face? What do you think? The least I can do is apologize for how I treated her.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Let me text her. See if she’ll come over later when you get home. I’ll tell her we’d like to talk and that you want to apologize.”

Sighing, Kit closed her eyes, “Don’t text her. I will. This is something I need to fix.”

He decided he’d let his wife figure out how she needed to approach the issue but he was worried it was too late. He was worried he’d never see you again and that would be it. You were totally justified in ghosting them both. Plus the semester would be starting up again for you in a couple of weeks and the boys would be back in school during the day so it felt futile to beg for you to come back.

And that’s exactly what you thought too. You were about to head into the new fall semester to start on your master’s degree and the boys were going back to school. You had hoped you’d still be able to watch the twins when Harry and Kit wanted a weekend away or a night off for a few extra bucks during the school year but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to face either Kit or Harry again.

You were sure Kit hated you with every fiber of her being. Which kind of made you angry the more you sat with what had happened. As sad as you were and as bad as you felt, you knew Harry was right. Nothing that happened was actually your fault.

Distracting yourself from what had happened Saturday night had been difficult because it was all so fresh. You knew with some time you’d get over it and move on but you were sure there would be some damage there. Netflix, long walks, lots of sleep, and pints of ice cream seemed to help a little.

But still, the moment that you couldn’t erase from your memory was when you were on their bed as Harry had just finished himself on your back and Kit yelled at him to make you leave all while you were still naked and floaty. Humiliating. But more than that, you started to realize, that what Kit did was uncalled for and mean. She had been mean to you and that made you angry.

So you were surprised when you saw a text from her on Monday afternoon. With an apology.

I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to reach out and tell you how sorry I am for how I acted Saturday night. I had hoped to talk to you this morning about it so I could do this in person, and I would still like to apologize to you in person if you’d let me. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it but if you are, I’ll be at Davanti’s on Fresno Street at 3:30 pm. I’ll be alone and plan to stay for an hour.

It was 2 pm. You needed to decide if you wanted to hear her out or just move on. Could you look at her again? Would you simply break down and cry the moment you saw her? Maybe it would be better if you requested Harry to be there? Or perhaps you should just ignore her and be done with it.

But you figured opting for closure would be better in the end. For you and probably for Kit as well.

I’ll be there.

You found a spot to park on the street a few blocks away so you could get some fresh air and stretch your legs before going inside. And also just in case you suddenly decided you didn’t want to go through with it, you could turn around and leave without having Kit seeing you.

But you didn’t change your mind and when you walked into the restaurant you saw Kit sitting at a booth looking down at her phone with a glass of wine in front of her.

You slid in across from her and she startled slightly before placing her phone face down, “Y/n! You came. Thank you.” She smiled. She looked hopeful and sweet.

Nodding you smiled back, “Of course.”

Kit looked at your hands and then out into the restaurant before back to you, “Would you like anything to drink or eat? It’s on me if you want–“

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just have a water when the server comes by. Not really hungry.”

She sat for a moment and blinked her eyes as she looked at you softly, “I am so sorry, Y/n. I know me just saying that can’t erase what I did. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that with anyone and I took it out on you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted.”

You nodded and looked down at the table. You figured she would eventually forgive herself. Because that’s why she was there wanting to apologize to you in person. She wanted to feel better about what had happened and this was her way of doing that. So, while she would forgive herself eventually, despite saying she wouldn’t, you would never forget what happened to you that night. How she treated you, demeaned you. How it made you feel disgusted with yourself and Harry and her all at once. The horror you felt when the worst possible outcome happened.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She finally said which made you look up at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m not really sure how I even feel right now about it. I still need time to negotiate all of this in my head first.”

Kit spread her fingers out on the table and looked down at her hand, “I understand that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” she sighed and looked back at you, “I wanted to try something new with Harry. I’ve been so… just trying to figure out how to make myself feel that thing I used to feel for him, ya know?” She laughed and shook her head, “He’s just so… male. I mean he’s sweet and gentle and attractive but in bed, he wants something I can’t give him, and vice versa. And now that the twins are older we get more privacy and can get back into being a little more explorative, and it’s made me really miss how things were when I was single and dating women. I know that sounds awful,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “But I’ve just been reaching for something that I’m never going to be able to have with Harry alone. But turns out,” she laughed, “funnily enough, that I don’t like him with anyone else or feeling that passion with someone else that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel that with you. But that’s selfish of me. I’m all messed up right now,” she stitched her brows together and you could see how glassy her eyes were, “I’m sorry to dump that on you. That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say in response. She shouldn’t have told you any of that. That was true. And now you just felt bad for Harry that his wife was seeking something to fill in where she thought he lacked. But all you could think was that he was everything anyone would ever want and yet Kit didn’t even see that somehow.

“I wanted to also give you this. From the boys.” She handed you a small homemade booklet with drawings on it from both William and Warren. You flipped through the pages of marker and pen, drawings and stories written to go with each drawing.

You looked up at Kit with appreciation, “Thank you for this. Tell them I love it. I’ll read it every day.” You hadn’t wanted to cry. Hadn’t wanted to show Kit how sensitive and soft you were. She’d already watched you cry that night and now here you were with tears in your eyes again that you simply could not hold back.

“If you ever want to stop by and say hi to them you could. Or even just send me or Harry a text to tell them hi. They love you so much, Y/n. You’re so good with them. And I wanted to…” she paused as she looked at you with a sudden weight that hadn’t been there just before, “If anything ever, um…” she wavered her gaze from your face to the area behind your head and back, “Never mind. Just know how much both Harry and I trust you and would love for you to still come around to see them if you ever wanted.”

. . .

When you returned to university things started to feel better. You still got caught with feelings of dread and were reminded of the way you felt that night. Of course, Kit had apologized and that was really all you could ask for after it had all been said and done. But it didn’t stop you from zoning out in the shower with thoughts of putting your pink pearl choker on before you went to their home that night. The giddiness you felt beforehand that was torn away from you so viciously only hours later. Now you couldn’t even look at the necklace. It was tucked away in its soft velvet bag in your panties drawer.

And you couldn’t stop thinking of Harry either. You missed him a lot too. But that feeling was mixed with a confusing heartsickness. It wasn’t that you were in love with him or anything. But you had crushed on him for a while and got to experience him in bed and that was. You couldn’t describe it because you tried not to think about it too much. The more you dwelled on the way he handled you and looked at you, the way he spoke to you… it gave you shivers and the unfortunate thing was that you’d never have the pleasure to know that again.

But again, you weren’t in love or anything close to it. It was just a sense of loss more than anything.

After your first month back at school was down you were invited out to a local bar with some of your classmates and friends. Something fun for everyone to let loose a little. And god did you deserve to blow off a little steam.

You would have preferred a club with some awful dancing and too much liquor, to be honest, but darts in a dark bar with pitchers of beer and friends sounded quite nice too.

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The bartender asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then across the bar to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn so he can start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said defeatedly as he stared out the window.

“What? Why?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at you, “She wants more than I can give her. She needs to be with women, she said. And…” he gulped and looked back out the window, “… she said she couldn’t ever look at me the same after that night. Said I’d never be able to have that with her.”

You kept your brows pinched together as you listened to him. It broke your heart that things had fallen apart for them. That it had all been too much.

“But I thought you two were happy. There was never any indication before that something was wrong.”

He nodded, “I thought so too. But she couldn’t get passed it and she said she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Before we even thought of having you join,” he glanced at you before looking down at his glass, “She’s been needing something else for a while. I never knew. I thought it was enough. I knew she missed women and that kind of softness in bed but I had no idea that it affected her so much. To me, her confession was sudden. But supposedly she’s been keeping it in for a long time.”

Without even thinking you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked down at your small hand covering his and up to your eyes, “She said that when she apologized to you she felt free to finally be herself. I was blindsided. Then last week she told me she was going to go on a date with a woman she’s known for years. Ripped me right half. She was gone all night. But I mean, our marriage is over anyway.”

You gently smoothed your thumb over his knuckles and kept your eyes on his face.

“So I offered her a divorce and told her I can’t tolerate her dating someone if I’m not involved somehow. She understood that. She told me she hoped I would find someone,” he paused as he sighed to collect his words so they didn’t come out as a surprise to you, “…with whom I could have the kind of chemistry she saw that night between us.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Or if you should. You were well aware of the way you and Harry connected and how natural everything felt with him. But at the same time, you never thought it was much more than just good chemistry. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as more than that.

“Anyway, she’s at home with the boys and I needed to get out and breathe. Figured I’d have a beer or two and then go back home. Sleep in the guest room like I have been. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell the kids.”

You nodded softly, “That’s awful, Harry. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nostrils and shook his head, “You don’t need to pity me. I’m sad but I’ll be okay. It’s better anyway, I think in the end. She wasn’t fulfilled and part of me knows I wasn’t either. We could have made it work but I don’t think she’d have been happy for much longer. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

“Y/n! Next game’s about to start. You wanna join?” Arla suddenly interrupted.

You turned to look at her and back to Harry, “This is Harry, and Harry, this is my friend Arla. She and I have two classes together.”

Harry smiled at your friend and looked at you, “I’m just about to finish up. You go and enjoy your night off with your friends.”

You didn’t want to part ways with Harry yet. It felt like you needed to sit with him longer. So you turned to Arla, “I’m gonna pass. But you guys go ahead!”

“Are you sure?” She looked from you to Harry and back to you again.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

When she walked off Harry grabbed your hand, “You don’t have to pity me I said. I’m okay, really. I know this has to be boring for you to sit here listening to me whine about my life. You should go.”

Shaking your head you frowned, “I didn’t want to go, Harry. Thought maybe if you’re leaving anyway I could walk you out. Hug you goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again. Or if I see you again…”

Harry tilted his head and nodded, “Okay. Deal. I’ll settle up and be right back.”

You watched Harry make his way to the bar and get his credit card back from the bartender. He was achingly attractive, even doing absolutely nothing, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. And far and away the kindest.

When he returned you stood from the stool and he gestured for you to lead the way to the door. The night air was warm as you turned to look up at Harry.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he jutted his chin in the direction of his car, “It was really nice to see you–“

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” you rushed the words out. You weren’t ready for him to leave. You were certain you’d never see him again and that thought was scarier than insisting you walk him to his car. Maybe just being near him for a few extra moments would make you feel better.

Silently you both walked side by side down the sidewalk toward his car. And when you got to his spot he smiled down at you, “Did you drive here?”

You shook your head, “Shared an Uber with two of my friends.”

He nodded, “Well, Y/n…” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you pulled your arms around his middle and smushed your face against his chest. He squeezed you tight and you squeezed back.

You felt his breath at your temple, “God I’m gonna miss you.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, “I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

The streetlamp that cast the smallest bit of light from across the street flickered off and then sputtered back on again as you kept your eyes locked with Harry’s. You’d miss his eyes and his cologne and how nice he was to you. It felt wrong to simply let him leave.

“Y/n…” Harry spoke softly as he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers slid behind your ear and his thumb caressed your cheekbone, “Can I have one more kiss? If it’s okay?”

Nodding your head you felt his hand pull your face closer to his. He pressed his nose against yours as you fluttered your eyes shut and then felt his lips gently move over yours.

And something inside of you felt like it’d been unlocked as you opened your mouth and let him slip his tongue inside, to which you pressed yours against his and heard him moan.

You gripped his shirt tight and felt him push your back into his car as he caged you in with his arms and his hips pressed against yours. It had all happened so fast but your head was spinning and you both were lost in each other with a hungry kiss and wet lips.

He moved his hand to your neck and wrapped his palm around the front of your throat, keeping his lips attached to yours before he parted with a soft gasp, “Want to hear you say it just one more time f’me, sweet girl. What do you call me?”

You closed your eyes and felt the tips of his fingers squeezing gently at the side of your neck. You knew exactly what he was asking.

“Daddy,” you breathed before you felt his warm lips slot between yours again. He moaned deeply and you clung to his back in hopes of him staying. You didn’t want this to be it.

When you shifted your hips he lowered a hand to your thigh and pulled it upward, tucking himself in closer.

It turned out, that one more kiss wasn’t just any old kiss. Wasn’t just something you could pull away from once his lips smeared against yours, once his tongue lapped against your tongue. You held him tight through his shirt and he kept your thigh hitched over his hip and his hand at your neck as his mouth moved with yours under the flickering streetlamp.

When he pulled back and looked down at you, you tightened your fingers around his shirt, “Do you want to come over? To my place?” You couldn’t let the moment getaway. Couldn’t let Harry just leave like that. You also couldn’t believe you’d asked him over. But it was that or watch him drive away and never see him again.

Harry pulled his hand off your neck and softly tucked his fingers to the back of your head, “Really?”

You nodded and raised your brows, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment, “If you want. I mean you don’t–“

Your words were swallowed by Harry’s mouth over yours again. Soft lips and wet tongue making you ache and filling you with just enough gall to ask for what you’d wanted. And that was to have him in your apartment. Alone. You just wanted a little bit more. Before it was all over and forgotten and in the past. Before the moment was just something you’d look back on in the future with a tinge of sadness but with a smile on your face.

Harry opened his passenger side door for you to get inside and you texted Jax quickly explaining your sudden absence with an apology. You could explain to your friends later.

You felt Harry scoop your hand into his as he started his car and pulled out into the street. The song on the radio had just come to an end and a commercial began to play, “You’ll have to remind me of your address,” Harry glanced at you before looking back at the street.

“Oh! Yeah! Of course. Um… Just take this street to Caldwell and take a right and then we’ll go to the bridge and merge onto the highway but you’ll only be on for one exit and then the first right off the access road. Then it’s like two miles and the apartments are on the left.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you can tell me as we approach where I need to turn. I’m a little wound up right now. Might not remember all that,” he grinned.

You were feeling your nerves begin to bubble with each mile closer to your apartment. But Harry was trying to keep you calm, you could tell.

“So, you told me once you don’t have roommates. Is that still the case?”

You nodded and looked at his handsome side profile, “Yeah. No roommates. It’s only a one bedroom. My uncle is the apartment manager and so I get rent super cheap otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have a place on my own.” “That’s nice. Looking forward to seeing it.”

Biting your lip you looked out the window and felt a pinch of anxiety. You knew what was probably about to happen and you’d welcome it! But then after that what? Would he stick around? Would you see him again? Would Kit be mad?

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Y/n?”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth, “I have a paper due on Monday so I planned on getting my sources and starting the outline. I have it mostly written but now I need to back up what I’m saying and that means I’ll probably wind up needing to rewrite some portions. But that’s my plan for tomorrow and Sunday. Get that finished up. What about you?” You looked back at him as you asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon I’m taking the boys to that Science and Play place. Not sure if you ever heard of it?” He peeked at you quickly.

“I have! I’ve actually been there,” you laughed and Harry softly rubbed his thumb along yours.

“William loves it. He’s been begging to go back. And they have a restaurant there so we’ll make a whole afternoon of it. Let the boys explore. Kit’s going out tomorrow and I don’t want the boys to see her getting all dressed up so I’m going to stay out of the house with them as long as possible.”

You nodded, “That makes sense. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m suddenly not feeling so down about it all right now,” he squeezed your hand as you directed him onto the highway.

You smiled to yourself at his comment and understood what he meant exactly.

After Harry parked in the guest parking spot, you led him to your apartment up a flight of metal stairs to the second floor. You were normally very tidy and neat but you’d been a bit out of sorts since that fateful night and plus getting back into the swing of the new semester meant you had a few things strewn about which all came into view once you turned on the light.

“Sorry about the mess,” you gestured at your couch and the small chair next to it with your clothes draped over the arms.

But Harry didn’t seem to care as he pulled you into his arms and cupped your face, bringing his lips down to yours. You kissed him back with as much heat as he was putting into the kiss. You grasped onto the lats of his back as he moved you with him slowly until he pulled you into his lap on the couch and your fervor only increased.

You ran your fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw and then to your neck, pecking gently along the front of your throat and back up to your lips, “Loved when you wore that little pearl choker.”

He drew his hands along the outside of your jeans-clad thighs and you pulled away to look at his beautiful face, “I still have it.”

“Mmm… It goes with your innocent act so perfectly,” he grinned, “But I know you’re not innocent, baby. Far from it.”

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke and you felt that recognizable hardness under his pants.

“Why don’t you go put that pretty thing on your neck for Daddy and take off everything else?”

You were quick to push yourself off his lap and go into your bedroom. You smiled as you pulled the choker from its velvet bag and happily put it back onto your neck. You thought you’d never want it on again, but if Harry wanted it on, you would absolutely wear it.

You pulled your shirt off and began to unbutton your pants before pushing them down your legs. You hadn’t done much upkeep on yourself other than just shaving around your bikini line to keep it neat, but you knew better than to start rethinking everything now. If you had a bit of a bush so be it. You were mostly certain Harry wouldn’t mind.

When you unhooked your bra Harry was standing in your doorway watching you. His hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt as he watched you peel your panties down your legs.

His shirt hung open as he stepped in front of you and cupped your face. His eyes wandered over your breasts and up to your choker before setting them back on your face, “Do you know how hard you make me, Y/n? This little thing on your neck,” he lowered his thumb to the pearls and pressed on it, “…these sexy lips,” he dipped in and kissed you as he lowered both hands to your tits, “…and these gorgeous breasts.”

You smoothed your hands over his warm chest as his mouth covered yours with lazy, sloppy kisses.

“Want you to bend over the bed. Show me that pretty ass. I think you need a little spanking for making Daddy wait a month and a half to see you again.”

You moaned and then swallowed as you turned around and draped your upper half over your unmade bed, baring your full ass to him.

You felt his hands cupping your bottom and smoothing up and down to your thighs as he cooed at you, “God damn, baby. Look at you. So fucking sweet and naughty for me,” the first strike against your bottom came unexpectedly and immediately after he spoke.

He brought his other palm down on your other side and you yelped and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

He lifted his gaze from your bum to your eyes and smirked at you as he smacked you again. You dropped your mouth open and groaned when he did it again and again until you squeezed your eyes closed and stuffed your face into the mattress as he left stinging handprints on your backside.

When you felt him move away you lifted and turned to look at him behind you as he removed his clothes. He watched you with dark eyes, his sight moving from your bum to your face, “On your knees. Face me,” he motioned for you to move.

You brought yourself to your knees and looked up at him, your eyes big and round and sweet. He licked his lips and ran his knuckles over your temple, “Gotta burn this image into my brain. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stroked himself slowly, his cock was already fully thickened and mouthwatering. You looked from his big dick up to his face as he dragged a soft thumb over your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you opened up for him.

“Keep your mouth open like this,” he pressed down on your tongue, making your jaw widen, “There we go. Need space for me in there. You want Daddy’s cock inside your mouth?”

You nodded and gurgled a yes which made him grin proudly, “I know you do. You like having your face fucked, don’t you? Little naughty girl desperate to choke and make Daddy happy.”

“Yes. Please…” you panted and opened your mouth wider for him.

Harry smeared his cock over your lips. His warm tip dragged against the soft skin of your mouth as you poked your tongue out to dab at his slit.

“Go on then. Suck.” He prodded himself forward a bit and you wrapped your lips around his smooth tip and grasped at this base. Swirling your tongue around the skin under his crown you pushed yourself down on him and pulled back, sucking in and dragging your tongue along the way before edging back down again, trying to get him as deep as possible.

You’d given head before. You had never much enjoyed it. Felt it was more a means to an end sometimes. But with Harry standing over you and cradling the back of your head, his eyes on your mouth as you took him on your tongue you realized you loved giving head. Maybe it was just Harry, though. Maybe you only loved sucking his cock because it was attached to him and you wanted to please him in every way you possibly could.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned breathily as you looked up at him with your puffy lips parted around him, moving up and down, sucking and licking, hollowing your cheeks every time you pulled back to his tip just before pushing him further into your mouth.

When you put a hand on his ball sac and softly rolled it in your palm Harry threw his head back and panted breathily, “Oh my god, baby.”

You continued your work as your eyes became blurred with tears and your chin wet with drool. You stuffed yourself down over him until his tip was poked into your throat and you gagged around him. When you repeated that move, causing you to swallow around him and gag lightly, still gently massaging his balls he pulled you off and lifted you to stand up.

“Enough for now. Think you’ve earned a reward for that.” He gently walked you backward to your bed and then gestured for you to get on just as he climbed on and pulled you over his lap again. Harry laid down, bringing you with him, and kissed you. You could feel his solid, damp cock against your pussy as you kissed him and he groped your bottom, moving you up and down against him slowly, your pussylips pushed apart and dragged over his cock.

Suddenly he pushed at you, making you sit upright, your hands on his pecs as he cupped your tits in his hands, “I want you to ride my face. Get yourself off.”

You laughed and looked at him, “How should I…”

But you let out a small squeak as he pulled at you and dragged you up his chest and over his face, gripping onto your hips and making you settle your pussy over his lips. He began kissing and licking right away, his eyes on you.

“Ohhh…” you placed your hands on the top of the headboard as you looked down and watched Harry under you. It felt so good having him naked in your bed. Having his eyes on you. Having his hands on your ass. His lips on your pussy.

You slowly tilted your hips forward and felt the sparkle of your clit being pressed into his mouth. Harry held you down tight and lapped at you, concentrating on your clit as he sucked on it.

Harry’s fingers dug into your soft bum and you felt as he moved one hand, reaching further back and dipping a finger into your pussy before smearing your arousal up and over your anus. You gasped as you stared down at his eyes. He softly circled the spot as he continued working on your clit with his mouth.

You’d never had anything done to your bottom before, but if Harry wanted to, you’d let him. You were pretty much all yes and please when it came to him anyway. You’d happily let him do what he wanted.

But he never pressed in. He only pushed at your hole and circled over the outside with a wet finger and it had you reeling.

“Daddy, oh my god!”

Harry moved his hand away and put it back on your hips so he could pull you down and move you back and forth over his face. You felt like you were in such a vulnerable position, naked, sitting on his mouth the way you were. There was part of you that worried you were crushing him but he only pulled you against his mouth harder, his brows furrowing as he tried to draw an orgasm out of you.

He moaned against your clit and drew it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it. The little wet noises coming from his mouth against you sounded dirty with the backdrop of your loud moaning.

Sometimes you were able to force an orgasm from yourself if you held your vibrator against your clit. Even if you weren’t worked up at all. Just for a quick release.

But you were definitely worked up with Harry. Wet and puffy and the way he was mouthing and pulling at your clit with his lips you couldn’t stop your climax even if you wanted to. It dripped from your cunt all over his mouth as you loudly cried out. Your thighs quivered around his head as you leaned forward and felt wave after wave of your release.

Harry kept his hands tight on you, holding you close so he could make sure you were feeling everything he gave you.

“Fffffuuuu!” You were feeling overwhelmed as he continued sucking you in and holding you down over him. You whined and tried lifting your hips up but he swatted at your ass before gripping your thigh and doubling down on your clit.

“Oooh ssssshhit! Ffuck!” You were trembling uncontrollably as you white-knuckled the headboard and looked down at the scene of the crime. Harry’s head between your thighs with his eyes on yours and his wet nose was lewd.

But then something snapped and the overwhelming feeling started to melt into yet another orgasm that was drawn from you without warning. You cried and whimpered as Harry let go of your thighs and put his hands at your waist to keep you steady. Your whole body trembled as you tried to hold onto the headboard but you were feeling out of your mind and blurry.

When he moved you to your back you were still coming down from the back-to-back orgasms and your brain was trying to fight its way back to the surface of clarity and awareness. Harry lay next to you and kissed your neck, his fingers trailing up your tummy and over your breasts and to your little choker, “You okay, Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your chest was still rising and falling heavily as you nodded, “I’m so good.”

You felt Harry’s thigh draped over the tops of yours as he trailed soft kisses up your neck and to your jaw, “You are so good.”

Reaching across your body you placed your fingers in Harry’s hair, “I want you to come, Daddy.”

Harry laughed out a puff of breath against your jaw and lifted his face to look at you, “Oh you do? You’re so sweet, honey,” his voice came out raspy and deep as he kneed his way between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and fitting himself comfortably over you, pulling at your knees to bend them up so your feet were flat.

He smiled down at you, breaking the lusty moment, “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?”

You thought for a moment. You were sure you didn’t, “I don’t really think I do. But,” you gulped and flexed your fingers nervously into the skin of his back, “I’m on birth control, so…”

Harry pursed his lips in pause as he kept his eyes on yours, “Okay,” he dipped down to kiss you, “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Want to feel you,” you nodded.

You were still so wet between your legs. You could feel Harry’s length easily slide against your pussy as he shifted himself down and pressed the top of his thighs into the back of yours, pushing your legs up slightly.

He placed his forearms down on the bed, caging you in, and pressed his mouth to yours softly. You felt him nudging at your opening so you lifted your hips, pushing against him as his tongue licked at the crease of your lips. The moment you felt his bulbous tip press through the tight muscle of your opening you gasped, dropping your mouth wide open. The feel of him entering you slowly with the weight of his hips against yours had you melting.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

You whimpered with a nod, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Fuck I can hear how wet you are for me,” he pulled back and then pressed in. “Gonna make me come so hard, sweet girl.”

The deeper he went in the more you felt your body floating away. There was no question that Harry had a big dick. And you knew he was aware of this as well because he was gentle with you as he inched his way in and pulled back slowly.

When he’d finally poked in as deep as possible and his balls were tucked into your ass he sloppily kissed you as he began to fuck into you with slow and languid strokes. Gushy and hot and unforgiving. Even as slow as he was going every time his head nudged into your cervix you hissed into his mouth. But there was something about the little ache that you loved. Probably because it was Harry.

His pelvis dragged against your clit every time he pushed in and you felt his hand clutch the back of your neck as he licked into your mouth.

Your pussy was so full. So happy. You could feel yourself open and stretch around him. It had your head spinning.

Harry grunted as he lifted himself and softly pressed his nose against yours, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy’s cock sliding inside of your tight pussy? You’re gripping me so good.”

His slow rhythmic thrusts grew faster as he let go of the back of your neck and pushed himself up, palms on the mattress. His plunges were deeper and stronger and his thighs and back were flexing as he worked himself in and out, faster little by little.

“Shit! Daddy!” You shakily yelped at the faster cadence and the way he was now punching into your cervix, “It’s so fucking deep,” you gritted your teeth and threw your neck back.

“Is it too deep for your little pussy, honey? Huh?” He rutted his hips in as he asked, punctuating what he meant.

You inhaled sharply when he plunged in again, grinding his hips against yours and stuffing himself into the hilt, “Oh my god, yes! But I need it!”

Harry groaned as kept himself balls deep and sat back onto his haunches, grabbing onto your thighs to keep you in place.

With his hands at the back of your knees, he began to slide into you in long, heavy strokes until he was smacking into you just enough that your tits were bouncing and your bed was creaking in time with his thrusts.

Harry licked his thumb and lowered it to your clit which had you jolting with a small cry. Your clit was super sensitive after the way he’d handled you moments earlier.

He watched his cock move through your hole, your pussy wrapped around him tight and coating him in your cream. He moaned as his thumb was lathered in your arousal from how he was slipping it back and forth over your puffy clit.

Your small grunts and squeaks increased the wetter you got and the harder the mattress bounced under you. The patting of his skin against yours was rhythmic and bumped you upward every time he slammed into you.

You started to see stars, you could swear it as your limbs began to tingle and disintegrate. Harry was grunting and moaning at the view of your pussy wrapped around him tight and the way it felt to be swallowed by you, warm and wet and clenching.

Harry gasped and paused his strokes as he breathed heavily. His chest was red as leaned back over you and kissed you so sweetly it took your breath away. You both moaned in synch as your tongues wound around each other and wet lips slobbered together when he began to drill into you again, slower but with muscle.

You started to quiver with his chest pressed to yours and his cock deep inside of you, his pelvis grinding against yours.

“There you go… let me feel that pussy coming. Oh, baby that feels good doesn’t it,” he rutted into you as he spoke against your lips.

You nearly howled with your third orgasm. It was one thing to come from clitoral stimulation but quite another to have your clit being smeared into while having a big cock nudging in and out of you as you lost control of all functions.

Harry watched your face as you scrunched your brow and chanted Daddy and he drove into you in solid, squelching plunges. His cock made its way over your spongy insides repeatedly, hitting that one spot with his big crown over and over again until you were spent. Done for. There was nothing left for you to give.

Harry kissed you softly, stuffing himself into you gently, and moaned, “M’gonna come baby but I’m gonna pull out okay? Where do you want it sweet girl?”

You peeled your eyes open and exhaled softly, “In my mouth. Let me have it in my mouth, Daddy,” you nodded as you gripped his shoulders.

Harry stopped his motions and looked at you, almost as if in awe as he ticked his head back in forth like he was in disbelief, “Yeah?”

You nodded as he plunged in a few more times, pressing you upward, his eyes on yours as his moaning progressively got softer and you swore whiney even.

He pushed himself up and pulled out, taking his cock in his hand and pumping himself, smoothing your creamy arousal around his shaft and smothering his palm. He took his other hand and pulled you up by your neck and brought your mouth over his cock as he sat back onto his haunches.

You quickly lowered your mouth over him, tasting your juices as you sucked him in and then felt him begin to release down your throat in spurts. He coughed out a loud groan as he rutted upward, his tip slipping down your throat with his hand at the back of your head, “Fuck!” He panted and you felt his thighs shaking as he rolled his hips upward.

You swallowed and gurgled him down the best you could, gripping the base of his shaft in your hand and sucking while swirling your tongue around him until his cock stopped throbbing and pumping and he was softly gasping and breathing.

You licked your way up and popped your mouth off of him but you were in a daze.

Harry smoothed his lips against yours and easily laid you down on your back, “Just lay here and rest. I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself at the taste in your mouth and the way your body was buzzing with satisfaction.

Opening your eyes just as Harry walked back into the room he was buck naked, cock swinging, chest slightly damp, and impossibly strong thighs. A god really. You’d never get over his body.

He held a glass of water out to you and had brought in a damp towel to wipe you up. You sat up to take a few gulps of water before he delicately pushed you to lie back down. The towel was warm and it felt so good on your sensitive skin.

Harry laid next to you and kissed your cheek and then nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath falling over your skin, “You’re amazing, baby. I’m never gonna forget tonight. So good for me.”

You sighed and turned to face him as he gently dabbed between your legs, “Kiss me, Daddy.”

His grin made the edges of his eyes crinkle, “Happily.” He pressed his mouth against yours and you both kissed soft and lazy as he tossed the damp towel to your floor and wrapped you in his arms.

You couldn’t be sure of how he kissed you but when he was helping you out of bed and speaking softly to you about having a bath with him so he could hold you longer you felt wobbly still.

With your eyes closed and your back against his chest in the warm water, he started talking. And as you felt more aware and conscious you realized he was sort of spilling his guts to you.

“I was so sad when I woke up this morning. But seeing you and all this,” he squeezed your arms, “I think I can breathe now. You made everything feel better, Y/n.”

You listened closely as he continued, his chest vibrating as he spoke, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. And I realized something too. Tonight. Just now. I think Kit was right. You and I do really have good chemistry. We fit so well together don’t we?”

You hummed and nodded with a small smile on your face.

He sighed and pulled his arms around you, “Don’t want this night to end. Want to just stay here with you, holding you like this.”

Your heart began to pound as you started to feel his words. You knew what he meant and you felt it. You could feel his scruff on your temple as he rubbed his face in toward yours, “You feeling better now?”

You nodded and turned toward his face, “Yes. So much better. You make me feel so good.”

Harry slowly blinked as he kept his gaze on yours, “You make me feel so good too.”

When the water grew tepid Harry wrapped you in a towel and tightly hugged you as he walked you to your room and made you drink more water.

He took your towel off and helped you into your bed and pulled your blankets over your naked body before he began to pick up his clothes from the floor.

You pouted and sat up, “Please don’t go. Will you stay here tonight? I need you here with me. I think I just…” you felt tears in your eyes as you looked upward to will them away.

Harry dropped his pants to the floor and sat on your bed, cupping your face to look at you, “I didn’t want to assume you wanted me to stay. But I’ll stay tonight. I’d love to stay with you.

So he did. He held you in his arms, pet your back, and kissed your forehead until you had drifted away into a deep sleep.

The morning was slow with the first bit of sun shining through the cracks of your window. You were burning hot in Harry’s arms so you poked your head up and breathed as you wiggled out of his hold.

“Where you going?” His groggy morning voice was too sexy to make sense.

“I have to pee,” you laughed as he released your wrist and you quickly padded to your bathroom.

When you got back into your room Harry was already dressed and running a hand through his hair as he looked at himself in your mirror.

Turning to face you he grinned at your Pokemon robe, “Cute. You’re always so fucking cute, Y/n.”

You looked down at the robe and shrugged at him with a small smile.

“I have to go. I hate to leave so quickly but I’ve got to get home to the boys and get them ready for our little outing today.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s okay. I understand.”

Harry tilted his head as he stepped in front of you and pulled you in for a hug. It felt like one of those this-is-it hugs. It felt so final.

“Y/n,” Harry pulled back to look at you, “You’re amazing. If you ever need anything or just want to say hi, you know how to reach me.”

You walked him to your door and watched as he made his way down the steps and out of your sight. Your final view of the only man you were sure you’d never get over.

. . .

“This is cute,” your cousin reached out to touch your pink pearl choker as you stuffed your bag with clothes.

You paused what you were doing and placed your fingers over the necklace with a smile, “Thank you.”

The necklace gave you warm and happy memories now. As much as you wished something could have happened between you and Harry you knew that just wasn’t possible. He was going through a divorce, had kids, a broken heart… But your last night together had mended you wholly. You knew it was something you’d never forget and you were grateful to him. You just hoped that maybe it did him some good too. Maybe it was something he took with him that made him smile like it did you.

The days and weeks after had been hard for you. Often you’d pick up your phone and compose a text, only to read it over and over again before deleting it. It was hard to let him go completely but now it was Christmas Eve and you felt like you were on the other side of it. Mostly. You still thought of him every day but it was easier.

“You have such good taste. You’ll have to go with me shopping sometime.” Chandy spoke as she plopped down on your bed next to your bag.

“That sounds fun actually.”

Chandy had come over to your apartment to pick you up since she lived so close. You were heading to her family home an hour out of the city. It was tradition for the whole family to get together at your aunt and uncle’s lake home. It was gorgeous in the winter with their soaring windows and snow all around.

You stacked presents into two grocery bags and slung your overnight bag over your shoulder, “Ready?”

“Yes! First, I have to use your bathroom then we’ll hit the road.” Chandy rushed off.

You sat on the edge of the arm of your couch and pulled out your phone to see a text that had your heart squeezing and throbbing.

It was a picture of Harry and the boys in front of a Christmas tree and his text read:

Merry Christmas, Y/n. We miss you!

You quickly typed out a response.

Merry Christmas! I miss you guys so much!

You placed your hand over your heart to calm yourself and the sudden rush of all your feelings you thought had begun to fade away came rushing back.

You closed your eyes after you watched your sent text go from delivered to read.

When you opened your eyes and saw that he was typing something your entire body grew hot as you stared intently at your phone.

“Okay! Ready!” Chandy chirped.

You stood up with your phone in your hand, “Uh, I’m gonna just go to the bathroom too real quick!”

You closed the bathroom door and felt the vibration from an incoming text. A wide grin on your face.

What are you doing for New Year’s?

As fast as your fingers allowed you responded.

No plans. What about you?

It was the longest wait while you watched the bouncing dots stop and restart. A full minute of waiting as you flushed the toilet (to pretend you’d been using it so Chandy didn’t wonder) and then washed your hands, staring at your screen.

The boys and I will be making a very “special” dinner and then we’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling grape juice and The Poseidon Adventure. They each invited a friend and told me I had to invite someone too.

Drying your hands off, you bit your lip and typed.

That sounds so fun. Who will you invite?

You chuckled to yourself. You were almost certain he was inviting you but you couldn’t be sure until you saw his response.

I’m inviting YOU. Wasn’t it obvious? ; )

Well, in that case, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. <3

. . .

You had no idea what to expect for New Year’s but you and Harry hadn’t stopped texting since he reached out. The whole time you were with your family on Christmas you kept your phone by your side so you wouldn’t miss a single message.

You dressed casually for the New Year’s Eve party at Harry’s because there were going to be 4 ten-year-old boys there. And you learned the “special” dinner they were making was grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries, and for dessert chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It honestly sounded amazing.

You also learned that Kit had moved out, leaving the house to Harry and they were on very good terms. They would split custody of the boys 50 / 50. And that technically they were still married but the divorce was moving along quickly because there were very few things that needed to be worked out. They seemed to be on the same page.

You parked in the street in front of the Styles house and noticed lights strung up on the columns of the porch and a Christmas wreath on the front door.

The moment you closed the door to your car you saw the front door open and Warner and William busted out and ran toward you, “Y/n!! You came!” – “Dad said you were coming!”

They both hugged you, one on each side and you could have cried. You hadn’t seen them since August and it was already December. You felt like they’d grown bigger in those few months.

They started to pull you toward the house but you laughed and stopped, “Hold on! I have presents for everyone in the car I have to get.”

You opened your trunk and pulled out two bags that had presents inside and when you closed it Harry was there in the yard watching you with a soft grin. You felt blood rush to the apples of your cheeks at the sight of him and your heart throbbed in your chest.

“Hi, Y/n,” his dimples winked awake and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stepped forward to take your bags, handing one to Warner and one to William, “Take these inside and pour Y/n a glass of the New Year’s mocktail we made. We’ll be right in.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you let your eyes fall over his outfit. He was wearing a red chunky knit sweater with a big green Christmas tree in the center that had gold and silver balls all over it, “Love the sweater.”

Harry looked down at it and back at you, “Love that you’re here.”

The heat that spread over your face stretched down your neck and your back as he stepped in closer. He was far too handsome for his own good and all the memories you had with him were flooding your brain with inappropriate thoughts but also with fondness and excitement.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You looked up at him as he stood directly in front of you.

Harry stared down at you for a moment, his eyes blinking and his pink lips twitching tremulously, “I know I look ridiculous in this,” he gestured at his sweater looking down at it and then back at you, “and this isn’t the most romantic reunion but I wanted to ask you before the festivities started if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Your lips parted as the question floated around in the air between you two. You couldn’t believe he was asking you on a date.

“A date? Like…” You bit your lip and looked down at the ground and back up at Harry, “A date date?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded, “A date date.”

You exhaled a small laugh and nodded, “Harry, I’d love that. Yes.”

Suddenly his arms were wound around your middle and you squealed as he lifted you from the ground and spun you in his arms. The moment your feet hit the grass he gave you a quick kiss, cupping your face in his hands, and then parted as he looked back at the house.

Harry let you go and smirked at you as he took your hand to lead you to the house whispering, “Now I know this sweater is pure sex but you’re just gonna have to keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, “It’s gonna be hard but I think I can behave.”

Harry stopped and turned his face toward you, his warm mouth at your ear, “Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here.”

A/N: I hope you guys loved this! Let me know your thoughts please!!

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normansnt · 4 months

Text

Almost got you, bitch

(Hazbin Adam x fallen angel!Male reader)

No warnings I think perhaps cursing

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

You were a fallen angel.

You questioned heavens doings after finding out about the extermination, and of course heaven didn't like that.

When you fell, your best friend, Adam, was the most pissed off. Granted he was the one who told you about it one night when he was drunk and you had to get him home but he didn't know you were gonna make such a fuss about it.

You were in heaven, everything was fine you had your friends there, no one important to you fell before you, and most importantly you had him there, your best friend. Why would you care about those misfits in hell??

All though he shouldn't have been surprised, even though you put on a hard shell and make very similar jokes than himself you are a kind soul, a very kind one at that always helping others. But still, you fell, you are not here with him anymore. That sucked.

*flashback*

Heaven was a pretty new invention and adam and eve were trying to settle, for that god sent an angel, you.

When you knocked on the door adam went to open it.

"Who the fuck is here this early?" Was the first sentence he ever spoke to you.

Now you aint gonna take shit from nobody.

"Im the fuck who is here get you asses moving cuz we're going to heaven" you said with an equally annoyed tone.

Thats when Adam knew he liked you. And with the same amount of sass to each other the two of you became fast friends.

"I Almost got you, bitch" yelled Adam. You guys were playing flying tag cuz he just got his wings and they were completely new to him.

"You wish, fucker" you answer with a shit eating smirk. You were the one to teach him how to fight, the one who helped him through his divorce withe eve, you were his best friend.

*end flashback*

"...Shit" adam called seraphim, an idea occurred to him, how about they move up the next extermination, that way he has a reason to get down there sooner and bring you back, also slather some demons.

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

When you woke up in hell, the first thing you saw was someone trying to cut out your organs.

"WAAHH...MOTHERFUC-- WHAT THE HECK R U DOING??" You jumped up and started yelling at the demon.

"Calm down pretty boy, the cannibals pay good money for fresh organs like yours."

"Well guess what jackass I dont give tiny rats ass how good those fuckers pay you my organs aint for sale" and with that sentence you quickly kicked him in the nuts and when he fell to the ground brocke his neck. Yeah...you were kind but god help people who mess with you...literally.

"Well shit, never had to fight without wings."

"...Interesting, and here I thought I would have to come to your rescue in exchange for your soul." Came a...static voice from behind you.

"Uhhh...thank you?? I guess, but there will be no taking my soul." You looked at the grinning man in a red suit.

"Such a shame, you'd be my first fallen angel"

"...Ok, listen can I help you with something ooooorr??"

"Not particularly I just wanted your soul, but alas that ship has sailed, however since you just fell I assume you have no where to stay" his grin stretched a bit as he said that.

"Well, you assume correctly but Im not gonna agree to any deal you have to offer just for a place to stay"

"Well, well, you are smart one even though angles can be so gullible, but no there is no deal the only thing you'd have to do is perhaps act nice"

"I can do that." you answered finally smiling at the strange man.

"They are coming" you whispered to yourself. After you arrived in hell, Alastor offered you a place in the hazbin hotel and you were happy to take it. This was over 7 months ago, in that time you grew close to everyone who was there, they were your found family and now you will protect them even if its against you first family.

Today was the day of the extermination, the day you'd have to fight heaven, the day you's have yo fight Adam. Even though you never admitted to yourself you had deeper feelings for him than friendship, but since he literally went around fucking bitches that kind of lowered your hopes.

The fight was raging on. Since you were the one who literally trained these exorcists they were no match for you. However Alastor was supposed to take on Adam, and that worried you. You knew how powerful Alastor is supposed to be but you have seen Adam's powers first hand.

Just as you suspected Alastor couldn't take on Adam. So Charlie had to take over which made you even more worried. You climbed up and saw Adam hitting Charlie into the hazbin hotel sign.

"NO" you yelled

Adam turned towards you with a smile that said he was ready to kill, that disappeared however when he saw that it was you.

"(Y/N)...."

He looked at you for a moment when someone punched him out of no where.

"Oh shit" you said while looking at Adam flying away and than back at who punched him. Lucifer.

"Lucy?" U asked baffled. You met him when he was still in heaven. Personally you loved his creative ideas while the making of earth so you guys would talk a lot. You also found it highly unfair when he fell and considered going after him, but Adam held you back.

"...Who--? SHIT (Y/N)? Omg why tf are you down here??" He asked half pissed half happy to see you.

"Well a little this, a little that, you know, also I fucking fell so." You replied while hugging him.

"How many of you fuckers do I have to beat before I can take (Y/N) home with me" said Adam very pissed after crawling out from the window he was punched into.

"What?" You asked

"I'm the only one that matters, you messed with my daughter and now Im gonna fuck you" said Lucifer proudly smirking. Everyone went silent while you were trying to hold back your laughter.

"Khmm...its fuck you up, dad" corrected Charlie

"Wait what did I say?" Asked Lucifer confused.

After this a kind of...fight started between Lucifer and Adam. Well, only adam was fighting Lucifer was mostly changing forms.

It was quite funny to watch.

At the end Lucifer won over Adam and he wanted to kill him, but your body moved on its own and you threw yourself at Adam.

Charlie also told his dad to stop.

You stood up from Adams body.

"Take your angel army, and go home" you told him in a soft tone.

He painfully stood up and looked at you with sadness...and something you couldn't quite place.

"(Y/N)..." come with me, please. Is what he wanted to say, but he knew you are still mad at him and that your answer will be no. Or he just didn't want to seem vulnerable in-front of demons.

"I Almost got you, bitch"

Your lips twitched upwards a little bit.

"You wish, fucker"

And with that the angel army and adam flew up to heaven.

When adam arrived in heaven, something downed on him.

"Fuuuuuuckkk..IM GAY-"

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

Is he an (at best) mid white man who thinks he is the shit?

Yes.

Is he a fucking loser though and a lil bitch

Also yes.

BUT YK WHAT.

HE IS FUNNY AF I LOVE HIM AND HIS SONGS R FUCKING AWSOME.

HOPE MY FELLOW ADAM ENJOYERS LIKED IT THOUGH😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🦖🧡

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin adam #adam x reader #gay fanfiction

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janaispunk · 3 months

Text

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

#fic: wildest dreams #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york smut #pedrostories #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dbf!dave york

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mcu-coworkers · 1 year

Text

Posessive?

Summary: Miguel will stop at nothing to have you at his side. And you know that but who says you can't make him struggle just a little.

word count:3.5k+

A/n: Thank you guys for loving Pt.1 to this story so much I hope this second part meets your expectations! Im thinking of making a pt.3 where the spider society meets the reader let me know what you guys think!xx

Parts: I II^ III

(Gif credits to the creator ofc!^)

Walking into your lawyers office made Miguel's blood boil.

He had already ripped up the divorce papers but he wanted to send a message before he returned them to their sender considering you ignored his thousands of calls.

“Mr.O’hara it's nice to finally meet you although clients usually communicate lawyer to law-” he was quickly cut off by the loud sound of the shredded paper being tossed onto his desk.

“ I thought this would be quicker for the both of us, Tell your client that her HUSBAND said no. And that I‘ll be seeing her very soon. Thanks.” Miguel said, having that last bit dripping with sarcasm.

“Should I be concerned for my clients' well-being Mr.O’hara?” your lawyer said standing up.

Turning to face him once more Miguel snickered, “On the contrary Mr.?” he said looking for a name tag.

“Murdock. It's on the building Nelson and Murdock.” he said, smiling back at him.

“Big man, Congratulations. My wife is safe with me, just let her know I'll be seeing her soon, have a nice day Murdock.” With a nod from your lawyer he took it as his time to leave but not without whispering some insults in spanish under his breath.

Who did he think he was questioning your safety around Miguel? You were the safest at his side and his side only.

And no one was taking that from him, not even you.

Quickly after he left your Lawyer wasted no time in contacting you.

Two rings passed before you picked up.

To tell the truth your heart was pounding. It felt so soon for him to have already turned in the papers.

“Hello?” you didn't mean to sound as quiet and defeated as you did but who were you trying to fool this had been and was going to be a very tough moment in your life.

“Mrs.O’Hara how are you?” he answered calmly.

Confused by the surname you stopped walking in the middle of the busy airport.

“I'm fine, did you receive the papers?” you asked eager to find out exactly what happened.

“Yes, I did but they're not signed or intact for that matter. It seems like he gave them to a cat to have as a toy."He said holding up the paper realizing what he thought were rips were actually done by claws, strange.

“Ay Miguel.” You said, you knew he never took any news well but you never thought he’d pull something like this.

“He also left a message for you.” he said, setting the paper aside.

“And that was?” you said curious as to what he could possibly have to say.

“Tell your client that her husband said no, and that he will be seeing you very soon, he put a big emphasis on the word husband.” he said pausing.

Waiting for a response from you he added on, “Ms. O’Hara if i'm being honest here this doesn't sound like a man who wanted a divorce.” he said reconsidering the course of the situation.

“At this point I'm not really sure what he wants anymore, I don't think I ever actually knew to begin with.” you said, beginning to question your judgment.

“Well if you’d like to continue with the one sided divorce process we can do that otherwise I think you should speak to Mr.O’Hara and sort things out.” He said.

Now you had a lot to think about, A shiver went up your spine as you realized exactly what was happening.

“Y/n? Is everything okay? Do you need help?” Your lawyer asked on the other side. He always knew a little more than he was led to believe which meant he had to be cautious with how much he involved himself.

“Oh yeah, yes I am fine just considering my options, can I get back to you on that?” You asked quickly beginning to exit the airport.

“Yes, of course whatever you need, give me a call.” he said, he could hear your breath picking up and your heart beat gaining speed.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock.” and with that you hung up the phone and found your driver.

If there was one thing Miguel didn't like it was not having you by his side and to make matters worse not knowing where you were.

You didn't doubt for a second Miguel had already found you; it was just a matter of time before he got to you.

Angry would be the understatement of the year.

Taking a deep breath you tried to relax remembering why you were in this situation in the first place.

It was his fault you left, and if he wanted to bring you back then he’d have to travel across the world and do it face to face.

After all, you did book a flight to Barcelona thinking it would be far enough to not ever be able to go back to him no matter how strong the urge.

Your phone rang again, thinking it was your lawyer, you answered.

“Was there something you forgot to mention earlier?” you asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Hiring a man as your lawyer, you always know where to hit me so it hurts mi amor.” chills ran down your spine at the sound of that raspy voice.

“Miguel, what do you want?” you said trying to put up a front.

“You. Back in our house, at my side.” he said with a demanding tone.

The audacity of this man, you'd been distraught and in tears practically the entire journey here but now? All you felt was anger.

“No.” was all you said, the front was gone, these were your genuine emotions now.

“No? Como que no? You're mine, don't you forget that.” he said, beginning to raise his voice.

“ I didn't forget that, you did Miguel so it's either you start remembering or I start forgetting too. Ya no voy a estar de gata a tus pies. I'm worth more than that.” you said trying to hold back the shakiness in your voice.

It was helpless because he already heard it.

“Mi amor, I never thought that of you please, come home and let's talk. I'm begging you don't do this to us. I need you.” He said hoping he could sway you in his direction.

“This is the longest you've spoken to me in over a month Miguel, you realize that right? And all for what, because I disobeyed you?” you asked, hoping he'd deny it but all you got was silence.

Chuckling you smiled, at least that part of him never changed.

“Baby, plea-” he tried.

“No, Sign the papers or I'm moving in a different direction Miguel. I let my love for you stand in the way for too long and you don't even have the decency to tell me you don't love me anymore. I'm done.” you said as he began to speak over you trying to stop you.

No one had ever tested Miguel's patience this much.

You not letting him get a sentence out was only bringing him closer to the edge.

“Y/n I swear if you make me-” dead tone. You hung up.

“HIJO DE PUTA!” he said as he punched the back of the passenger seat in front of him.

“Everything alright sir?” his driver asked mostly only concerned for his own safety.

No one liked seeing Miguel upset ten times out of nine everyone else ended up in whatever mood he was in.

“Yes, Just get me to the jet please.” he said, rubbing his temples gently.

Miguel fell in love with your sense of leadership when he had first met you, god was he paying for it now.

He tried to calm himself before boarding the plane. He needed to think of what he could say to get you back at his side.

He knew he needed to change, it's his best bet at making you remember just how much he loves you.

Just as the plane was taking off his gizmo showed a hologram of Jess.

“So, did you get your girl back?” She asked with a slight smirk on her face.

Miguel froze, he kept his business out of the spider society just in case anyone ever turned on them.

Keeping you safe was his number one priority.

“Lyla spilled Miguel, she's worried about you and says she's never seen you this bad before.” she said with a slight tone of concern. She knew better than to show Miguel she was worried, he would just push her away and tell her he was fine.

“Everything will be fine, I'll be gone two days tops think you can handle that?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

He knew Jess could do more than handle it; he just needed a distraction from the chaos he’d brought to his marriage.

“Yeah well when you bring her back, and you will, I ‘d like to meet the person who tolerates your broodiness, hell i ‘ll probably ask for some tips while i'm at it.” she said, making him chuckle.

No one could do what you did for him.

“Keep me updated on the canon events and keep Hobie out of my office.” he said remembering the last time he snuck in.

“You got it boss, don't forget we're all rooting for you.” she said before hanging up.

We? Who's we? He was gonna have a long talk with Lyla about confidentiality when he got back.

------

It has now been just about two days since you last spoke to Miguel and since then you’ve received one flower arrangement every hour with a message from Miguel and your bill at every place you visited covered by, you guessed it, Miguel.

And still you had to be graced by the presence of the man himself.

Barcelona was your chance to really find out if the grass was greener on the other side and that meant no giving in to Miguel's romantic gestures.

It was hard when every single flower warmed your heart just a little more every time.

It reminded you of when he’d cut flowers from random gardens on his way to your house.

They were never this fancy or even wrapped in paper for that matter, but you loved them more than anything else because he gave them to you out of love.

He gave these to you seeking forgiveness, something he wouldn't be doing if you hadn't been pushed over the edge.

Sighing, you set them aside with the rest of the arrangements and decided to go for a coffee.

Finding a little shop you sat on the patio after ordering your Latte with a croissant to accompany it.

Basking in the sun your mind couldn't help but wonder where he was, if he was already watching you from a distance waiting to catch you off guard.

You weren't too far off.

He was watching you, from a safe distance just to make sure you were safe, and that no other man was coming near you but mostly to make sure you were safe.

He thought that if he gave you space it’d make you miss him.

The flowers and paying for you were just in case you did miss him. Or at least that's what he made them out to be.

Miguel was trying his best to not let his possessive ways take over him and just carry you on the plane and take you home but he oh so wanted this to be over already.

But he too decided to turn a new leaf in Barcelona, one that would promise to never let you forget just how much he loved you, no matter how shitty of a day he had at work.

Miguel was brought out of his thoughts when he saw you leaving the cafe not because you were leaving but because some man was following you.

His body tensed as the man tapped on your shoulder and handed you something.

Before he knew it he was walking towards you and pulling you into him by the waist.

“¿Ya terminaste amor?( you finished here love?)” he said, smiling down at you before turning to look at the idiot who touched you.

Who did he think he was touching you when you belonged to Miguel?

Smiling a thank you to the stranger you met mere minutes ago you begin walking without answering Miguel's question.

“Who the hell was that guy?” he said following you down the street.

“ I have no idea Miguel, what I do know is that you've been watching me for the past two days.” you said trying to hide your smirk.

Miguel stopped, you had outsmarted him.

“Only because you won't speak to me.” he said trying to hide the smile on his face.

He was a proud husband but now was not the time.

“Sucks doesn't it? Being ignored by your spouse when you just wanted to give them all your love.” you said opening the door to your new home.

“Y/n mi amor I get it, I'm an asshole and I deserve whatever it is you throw my way but please come home and you can throw it at me there.” he said trying to get close to you but all it did was make you take a step back.

“Baby please, just come here.” he said as he took another step towards you.

He was quick but you were quicker getting out of the way.

“No Miguel, you treated me like some toy that you used when you were bored. And when you got tired of me you tossed me to the side and pretended that I wasn't there. Do you know how it feels to be treated like an item? A disposable item?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper but that didn't stop you.

“For the last ten years of our relationship there wasn't one day that you didn't tell me you loved me. Even when we were fighting. Tell me Miguel, when was the last time you told me you loved me? As a matter of fact, When was the last time we even slept in the same bed? You can't tell me can you?” you asked, waiting for a response from him but all you got was silence.

Your words finally began to actually sink in to Miguel and for once he didn't know what to do.

Balancing the literal multiverse on his shoulders distracted him so much he hadn't realized the damage he was doing to your marriage.

But you’d had more than enough time to realize what it did to you.

Shaking your head you looked away as tears brimmed your eyes.

You wanted so badly to be strong for yourself but seeing the end to what you thought was your forever was making it really difficult.

“Fuck.” was all Miguel could muster up at the moment, he needed to find a way to fix this.

Letting out a shaky breath, “Y/n, I know that I ‘ve changed but there's just been so much pressure on me to fix things and they really need me right now, this is the only way I can keep everyone safe, keep you safe.” he said hoping you’d understand.

Nodding you looked out the window and admired the view.

“ I understand, the multiverse is important to you. But I can't sit around waiting for the day you decide to consider me too. And I know that sounds selfish but I can't help it. I'm jealous of Miguel. Jealous of the people who see you more than I do. Jealous of the office you spend time in. Jealous of the Lyla.” you actually had to laugh after that.

“ I sound crazy, Jealous of a damn AI all because it gets your attention more than me.” you said tears finally falling.

“Well guess what Miguel, I won't do it anymore, I hate this feeling. I understand protecting the multiverse is important so go, go be a hero it's who you are and it's amazing. I could never stand in the way of that no matter how much it’d hurt me.” you said leaning back on the kitchen counter.

You’d hoped that’d be enough to get him to go.

In a second Miguel had his arms around you and his head buried in your shoulder.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you realized he was crying.

“Miguel?” you asked gently, slightly confused by the reaction.

“I'm so sorry baby please, I need you. Without you I'm just the shell of the man I should be. I can't live a life without you, it's pointless. Just please come home and we can fix this together. I ‘ll do whatever you want. I ‘ll get on my knees and beg if that's what it takes.” he said as he began to get down on his knees.

“Miguel no-” you whispered as you tried pulling him back up.

“Then what baby you tell me and I ‘ll do it please tell me how to fix this. ¡Estoy loco por ti y lo sabes!( I'm crazy for you and you know it!)” he yelled, he was mere seconds away from a panic attack his breathes were shortening quickly and you noticed it.

“Miguel? Baby slow down, you need to breathe.” you said lowering yourself to meet his face.

“ I can’t- I can-” he said as he tried regaining his breath.

He hadn't had one of these since he became spiderman so an inhaler was not an option. So you did the next best thing, you kissed him.

Deeply, passionate to make sure he slowed down his breathing completely.

Slowly it began to work so you pulled away to allow him to catch his breath.

Analyzing his face you’d only hoped it worked, “Better?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet.” he said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in for another kiss this time much deeper.

Miguel began kissing you like a man who’d been starved as he pulled you closer wrapping your legs around his waist in the process.

And just like that you were lost in him all over again.

Whatever speech you gave yourself about the grass being greener was gone in the wind.

Quickly Miguel began undressing you while you pulled his clothes off in return.

“No sabes cuanto te e necesitado mi amor. (you don't know how much i've needed you my love.)” he said as left a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Callate y hazme el amor Miguel.(shut up and make love to me.”you said breathlessly as he flipped you over on the kitchen floor placing his tip at your entrance.

Slipping into you slowly he clenched his jaw at the feeling of your tightness around him. Oh how he missed this feeling.

Gasping you tried to adjust to his size again , no matter how many times you’d had sex in the past it's like this man got bigger and bigger every time.

Hearing your soft moans encouraged Miguel to keep going until he was fully buried in you, “dios mio.” was all he could manage to say as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“Miguel-” you moaned, signaling him to move.

“ I know baby I know.” he said as he pulled himself out completely before thrusting back in and finding his pace making you arch your back in the process.

Slowly he began building up his speed until all he could hear was the beautiful sound of your voice moaning his name endlessly.

This was his heaven.

Watching you as your face contorted in full euphoria at the pleasure he was giving you.

Taking your hand in his he gave it a squeeze that you returned as you used your other hand to pull him in for a breathless kiss.

“Miguel ya” you said, getting closer to your climax.

“Wait for me mami i'm almost there.” he said as he sped up making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

This man would be the end of you.

By this point you were a moaning mess holding on to the last strands of sanity you had left waiting for Miguel.

Once you felt Miguel twitch inside of you it was clear he was close, you pulled him close and began kissing your way up to his ear.

“Miguel baby, I need you hazme tuya mi amor.” you moaned, and with that you felt his fangs dig into your shoulder as he filled you with his seed allowing you to cum with him.

You could've passed out from the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling, or the reaction to his spider venom, but missing a moment of this was not an option.

After Miguel recovered he realized what he’d done, “Shit, I'm sorry I didn’t think-” he said, beginning to slightly panic.

He’d always been able to control himself in bed.

Smiling, you pulled him in for another kiss, “It’s okay, I liked it.” you said earning yourself a look of surprise from him.

Laying his head back down on your chest you sighed in content.

“Eres la luz de mi vida, el sol para mi luna. (you are the light of my life, the sun to my moon.)” he said smiling.

Laughing you massaged the back of his neck as you ran your hands through his hair.

“ The light of your life would like to get off this hard floor.” you said as you wiggled to ease the soreness of your back.

Miguel wasted no time in picking you up and taking you to the bedroom.

“ This looks like a much more suitable place to spend the week.” he said, laying you down gently.

“Week? Isn't there a canon event that needs your rescuing?” you asked, to tell the truth your heart was overjoyed at the thought of him staying here with you.

“You, you're my cannon event and it's gonna take all of me to rescue you.” he said as he kissed your forehead.

“My hero.” you said as you laid your head on his chest admiring his relaxed features.

“Te amo mi cielo.” he whispered.

“Y yo a ti cariño.” you said, closing your eyes as you fell asleep alongside the love of your life.

The road to forever looked a lot brighter now

tagslist: @cooch1ecruncher @hoseokslefteyebrow @marcswife21 @whatdudtheysay @foxglove-spidey @smyfmj @mushy-mushroom04 @flooftoof @aepinkoutsold @scoliobean @elliaze

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #spider-man 2099 #across the spiderverse

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convolutedblasphemy · 4 months

Text

Ace in the Hole

notes: originally didn't plan to write abt hazbin or interact with the fandom because i've... heard tales... but for a show with a canonically aroace character my fellow asexual brethren deserve more content that caters to them. don't let this flop please.

synopsis: playing cards with the radio demon, you decide to make a harmless ace joke after rosie informed you that alastor is aroace. you soon have to realize that he has no idea what you're talking about and now he wants an explanation.

contains: alastor x reader (platonic or queerplatonic), gn!reader, aspec reader (left as vague as possible), shenanigans

warnings: alastor's eating habits, i left it vague where exactly on the ace / aro spectrum reader is but they do make jokes about allonormative society in the story so be warned.

"Come in", you heard Alastor's voice from behind the door, along with the familiar radio static you could perceive whenever you walked past his room. However, you had never actually been inside. But following the offer, you pushed the door open and stepped into the radio demon's quarters.

The sight that greeted you was something that was half bedroom, half forest. It was as though someone had ripped the hotel room in half and put it into the woods. Alastor was sitting at a small table on the grass, in front of him a plate with a raw deer head on it. His metal fork was buried in the creature.

"Ah, it's you", he exclaimed with a tone that sounded overjoyed, "how can i be of assistance on this fine day? Excuse the mess, my dear, I'm just enjoying a nice brunch."

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the lifeless deer head and the questionable things that Alastor considered "brunch". You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between the radio demon and the dead animal. Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you shook your head. "You know what... I'm not even going to question this anymore", you let out a sigh, "deer cannibalism... why the fuck not, I guess?"

The last part you mumbled to yourself but Alastor's ears perked up when he heard the statement. "Oh, would you like some?", he offered, holding the plate up, "I still have the eyes left. They're the tastiest part."

You cringed upon hearing those words, trying to limit the amount of disgust that showed on your face. "No thank you, Alastor...", you rejected his offer awkwardly, "I would like for my stomach to remain intact."

"Your loss. More for me!", he shrugged with a satisfied smile on his face and plopped one of the eyes into his mouth. A quiet ew escaped your mouth and Alastor looked up to you again. "Did you say anything, my dear?", he turned the fork in his hand, inspecting it, though you were unsure what he was hoping to find.

"I was just wondering when you'd be finished with our poor furry friend over here", you explained and Alastor, who had noticed how you felt about the beheaded deer on his plate, was kind enough to cover the rest with aluminum foil and put it in the fridge. Damn right, you better not put this thing in the community fridge downstairs, you thought to yourself.

"Oh, what's the rush?", he wondered and looked at you with a curious glint in his eyes. "I was just wondering if- god, you're so questionable", you interrupted your inquiry when you caught a glimpse at the inside of Alastor's fridge, containing many such "meals" as you had just seen, "I was wondering if you'd like to play a game with me. Board games, card games... you can pick. Just nothing where I have to sell my soul."

Alastor let out a laugh. "Ah, you know me too well", he put a hand on your back and led you over to a bench in the corner and a table, "well, I'd be delighted to. So long as it's not Monopoly, that game is a crime against humanity."

"How so?", you asked raising an eyebrow. "It has led to countless divorces and at least one case of someone being burnt alive", he explained. "I'm just going to assume you had nothing to do with the latter?", you chuckled and Alastor gave you a proud smile.

"I can assure you, it was one hell of a barbecue!"

"I trust nothing that you would label a barbecue", you sighed.

"And why is that?", he asked and you gestured towards the empty table where he had just devoured the deer head, "ah, good point. So, what game would you suggest we play? Will anyone else be joining us?"

You shook your head. "No, it's just us. Angel is making the others downstairs watch his 'best performances of the last decade' and I did NOT need to see that. Also one of Pentious' Egg Bois apparently has the measles- no fucking clue how that works- but I didn't want to risk it", you let out sigh, "and then I was bored so I'm glad that you have time to indulge me."

"Always a pleasure, dearest", he hummed, manifesting a deck of cards out of seemingly nowhere, "so what you're saying is that I am your last and only choice of entertainment?" He smirked at you from across the table.

"Well, considering that the other options are worse, I'd say you're my first choice of entertainment", you reasoned with a smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere, darling", he chuckled.

"Why is it so hard to be nice to you?", you rolled your eyes, which only made Alastor laugh again. "Would you like some coffee or tea?", he asked, summoning a cup of black coffee for himself. You nodded. "Tea would be nice." Alastor snapped his fingers once and you could now find a small porcelain cup in front of you with some tea.

"Just so we're on the same page here, this is normal tea, right?", you inquired. "What do you consider 'normal' tea?", he looked at you with an amused smile. "Well, tea that is made from herbs, has no meat in it and won't give me Prion's disease", you elaborated, resulting in Alastor snickering and holding his hand in front of his mouth. "It's just hibiscus tea", he assured you. You were satisfied enough with that answer and took a sip, realizing that it was indeed just regular tea. It had a nice taste and made you wonder why Alastor would dislike it.

"You seem to enjoy it", he remarked, watching you from across the table. You nodded. "It's nice. Thank you", you smiled at him and then shot him a challenging glare, "who knows, if you keep doing nice gestures like this for others, maybe you'll go to heaven after all."

"HA! Heaven?", he let out a laugh and leaned back into his seat, "I have a better chance at becoming the next queen of England!" You found the mental image of that amusing. "Who knows?", you shrugged, "the afterlife is long and if Charlie eventually intends to be able to redeem everyone, you're going to be the leader of the angels before there's any chance of progress on Mothman's ugly nephew."

Alastor gave you an amused chuckle upon hearing what nickname you had just used to refer to Valentino.

"If that happens, heaven's lost all sense of self-preservation", you could hear static over his laugh and his image seemed distorted for a moment, his pupils replaced by radio dials. He returned back to his usual form just mere seconds after.

"As for the game", you suggested, "how about we play Rummy? Haven't played that in a while."

Alastor nodded. "That should provide plenty of entertainment for me", he began handing out the cards, "especially when you lose and sink into the miserable pit of despair." The last part had his voice distorted by the radio static.

Alastor handed out the cards and you began playing. Unfortunately for you, he already had plenty of melds on the table when your hand was still full of cards. You watched him curiously as he was focusing on his hand, planning his next move. You noticed how the ears on his head twitched a little, one of them flicking back as if something had irritated it. That's so adorable, you thought to yourself, suppressing a smile.

"Don't think I don't notice you staring", he chuckled without looking up from his cards. You denied it. "Are you going senile or having hallucinations?", you teased and Alastor played three aces on the table.

The Radio Demon was ready to tease you in return when you interrupted him. "Oh look! It's us!", you pointed at the three aces. Alastor looked a little confused but ran with it. "And who's the third ace?", he asked.

"Well, technically I don't know any other aces in hell so far...", you put a finger to your chin, "I was making a joke. It was a little flawed but I thought it was funny." "So we're two aces?", he asked for clarification.

You nodded.

"So you view us as the most valuable cards in the deck?", he further questioned. Rosie had told you that Alastor was what people would nowadays classify as aroace. What she didn't mention with any word, however, was whether or not Alastor was aware of that and as you now had to realize, he had no idea, which put you in an awkward position. "Oh god, you don't fucking know...", you mumbled and Alastor's ears perked up.

"Know what? Which part of the joke am I not getting?", he wondered, tilting his head to the side as the static got louder and his tone seemed more threatening, "I hope you aren't trying to mock me."

"Not at all", you raised your hands defensively and sighed, "I just forgot you're from a different time period and unfamilar with the terms. Rosie told me you're aroace."

"A what now?", he blinked in confusion.

You sighed, whispering to yourself. "I should have a PowerPoint ready for scenarios like this- never mind!", you found your enthusiasm again and began explaining the terms to him.

Alastor nodded slowly when you were finished, as though he was having an epiphany. "So you're saying I'm not experiencing sexual and romantic attraction because I am aroace and not because I am unhinged and clinically insane?", he asked with a wide smile on his face.

"The clinical insanity is in fact its own separate thing", you confirmed. "Good to know", Alastor seemed delighted, "back in the day it might have been considered a mental illness, so I never brought the topic up with my psychiatrist, after all I wouldn't be able to do my radio show from the psych ward, right?"

"Priorities...", you remarked dryly, "wait- you had a psychiatrist? And you still ended up like this?"

Alastor shrugged. "I was there for my irrational fear of bees, not because of the homicides."

You raised an eyebrow: "And you really didn't think mentioning the homicides was necessary?"

"Of course not!", Alastor exclaimed gleefully, "they didn't cause me any distress."

"Right...", you gave him a slightly concerned gaze, "did it at least help with the phobia?"

"It did. I am no longer scared of bees."

"That's great."

"I eat them now."

You buried your head in your hands. "Well that's just wonderful, Al..."

"So asexuality... it's pretty rare from what I understand? During my lifetime I've never met anyone else who felt this way, at least not that I knew of", he explained and you smiled at him. "Estimated to be about 1% of the population", you answered. Alastor smirked at you. "Why do you seem so excited?", he asked.

"Solidarity!", you exclaimed and held your hand up so he could give you a high-five. The fact evaded you, that Alastor also didn't know what a high-five was, so he just ended up linking his fingers with yours and holding your hand. "So what now?", he asked, staring at your hands with a confused smile.

"You're a little confused but you've got the spirit", you brought out with a wheeze, trying to hold back from laughing. Alastor chose not to dwell on the gesture any longer.

"Well, I suppose you're right, it does feel nice to have somebody who is also immune to the flesh vessels of the feeble mortals", he admitted, and you raised an eyebrow in surprise at his description. "That's one way to put it..."

After losing the game of Rummy to Alastor and answering a variety of other questions he had such as "Why are there flags and what do the colors mean?" and "Does it still count if the garlic bread and cake has raw venison on it?", you decided it was time to join the others downstairs again, as Charlie had another exercise planned for today. "I must say, you're a delight to be around", Alastor remarked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like he would with an old friend, "do feel free to stop by any time, my dear."

You thought it was a pity he didn't intend to join you downstairs, but you felt as though the two of you had gotten a little closer by finding something you had in common. And Alastor refused to show it on his face, but you had a feeling, that there was a little relief and peace inside him, knowing that there wasn't a big part of the human experience he was told he was missing out on after all.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! If this gets enough notes I'll write Alastor QPR headcanons.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #asexual #ace #ace alastor #aroace #aroace alastor #aromantic

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songmingisthighs · 2 months

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Wanbelyn

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ch. lxxx - broken face

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

genre : dad!au

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 2.3 k

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

To say that you rushed into the gym was an understatement because you practically flew through the door, almost breaking it in the process. You even ignored San who was beaming when he saw you, trying to go in for a hug only for you to push past him whilst yelling 'SORRY, MY BABY NEEDS ME MORE'. Hell, you didn't even take notice of Yeosang who had to console San for being ignored by you.

When you got to the classroom, your eyes zeroed in on the very familiar tuft of hair and not because of the fact that he was the only one there.

In a flash, you dropped to your knees and cupped Kijoong's face who was surprised when he was suddenly spun around. "Kijoong, are you okay?" you asked worriedly, the first aid kit you had hauled with you left on the floor as you tried to look for signs that his face was, as San said, broken, "Did you fight with someone?" you asked, still looking for signs of injury.

Now fully realizing that you were there with him. Kijoong grinned widely and jumped into your arms, wrapping his own shorter ones around your neck and trying to climb you like a tree. It was then that you realized that Kijoong was perfectly fine and perhaps you had fallen so absolutely stupidly to San's words. You risked getting a speeding ticket only to see that Kijoong was perfectly fine and that confused you more than anything. "Kijoong, did you get hurt?" you asked again, still wanting to make sure as it would greatly affect how dead Choi San would be. Instead of telling you if he was okay, Kijoong proceeded to tell you about what he had been learning in school and in class with San.

In a state of confusion, the door opened and at first you thought that it was San which would have been nice since that would mean that you could spare his staff from seeing the strangling of a lifetime. So it took you by surprise when you saw Hongjoong standing there, looking as surprised as you.

"(y/n)?" God, it had been a while since you heard him call your name, "What are you doing here?" he asked, confused but slightly hopeful for some reason. "I- San told me Kijoong got hurt and I got here as fast as I could. What are you doing here?" "Picking Kijoong up?" that was stupid of you to ask and you really wanted to kick yourself for that. "But also, San told me Kijoong got in a fight with a kid and I needed to sign an incident report? I just saw him outside, he told me to get the story from Kijoong first so I came here." As if on cue, after Hongjoong was done explaining his being there, the door suddenly closed and locked, surprising you and Hongjoong yet again.

Just as you rushed to try to open the door, Yeosang's head popped up from the small window with San above him. "Kang Yeosang, what the hell do you think you're doing?" you hissed, trying to open the door which of course didn't happen as it was locked. "I did nothing, San was the one who locked you in," he smiled innocently only to receive a smack on the shoulder from San. You turned your attention to San and glared at him, "You have exactly 5 seconds to open this door, Choi San, I'm not kidding I will whoop you," you threatened, oblivious that Hongjoong was looking at you with amusement and affection, as if you were the most adorable being on earth and it didn't go unnoticed by your two friends outside. "You can't scare me (y/n)," San was lying straight out of his ass but he had to keep the facade to ensure that the plan would work, "You two need to talk things out and reverse the divorce because Yeosang and I have created a gaming group chat with Yunho and Mingi and I'm not about to give that up especially since we're going into a competition soon and we want you both to be there!" "Bye (y/n)! Have a good talk!" and with that, both Yeosang and San walked away, leaving you in a room with the guy whom you harboured feelings for but unfortunately had to repress for the sake of his son.

"So..." Hongjoong started, clearing his throat, "Seems like we were lied to, huh?" he stated the obvious. Sighing, you turned around to look at Hongjoong but kept your distance by leaning against the door, "Yeah, seems like it and I have a feeling those two were not the only ones in on this," you huffed. Hongjoong only chuckled as he managed to put two and two together rather quickly.

"How have you been though?" he asked. You didn't know how to answer that because from professional aspect, you were finally getting back on track and you were happy with that. But emotional-wise? You've been repressing everything to the point that you were functioning like a robot in real life, using work as a distraction. Little did you know, Hongjoong wasn't faring any better but he had to kept things going for him as best as he could because Kijoong was depending on him to be okay. You were about to answer when he interjected, "Because I haven't been fine since you left." It genuinely surprised you that Hongjoong was the one to reveal his feelings first. From your experience, something dramatic had to happen between the two of you first before he came clean about how he was actually feeling. The honesty felt refreshing.

"Neither have I," you answered, sending him a sad smile.

Though it was a sad realization for the two of you, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach when he found out that you were as much as not okay as he had been.

"I missed you. Home is not home when you're not there," Hongjoong confessed, voice slightly shaky as he was trying his hard to not be too emotional. Your shoulders slumped hearing that, feeling bad that Hongjoong felt like that and thought it wasn't your fault exactly, you still feel somewhat at fault.

The two of you were so focused on each other that you completely missed the way Kijoong was staring at the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and a displeased expression. You only took notice of him again when he ran up to you and hit you on the hip with a balled fist. "No!" He exclaimed loudly, surprising both you and Hongjoong who immediately chastised him. "Kijoong!" he called out but Kijoong went for another hit and that was when Hongjoong swooped down to hold Kijoong back but Kijoong was straining against him, trying to get another hit on you. "Hey, no!" Hongjoong tried his best to keep Kijoong from trying to hurt you again but the boy was still going wild in his arms. "No!" Kijoong screamed again, louder this time as he tried his best to get his fists to reach you.

After coddling him due to your own self-blaming, you decided to step in and get to the bottom of the issue. You joined in and crouched in front of Kijoong, holding both of his hands in your own. "Use your words," you stated, looking straight into Kijoong's eyes. Kijoong noticed the serious tone in your voice and he felt something in him, something that didn't make him feel good. He managed to slip one hand out of your grasp and swung, successfully hitting you in the head much to Hongjoong's horror. As the parent, Hongjoong was about to haul Kijoong up and out one way or another so he wouldn't hurt you anymore but you didn't falter. Instead, you simply grabbed his loose hand and held it at the front. "Use your words Kim Kijoong, you know you can," you stressed, maintaining eye contact with him.

Kijoong's chest began heaving and you thought he was about to scream at you but the first thing he did was burst into tears. The sound of his son bawling made Hongjoong let go in worry, wanting to immediately calm him down but he was stopped from taking action when Kijoong spoke up, "Why you left? You left and you made daddy sad," he cried out while trying to get you to let go of his hands but you kept them firm, "Kijoong, what did you mean by that?" you asked, your voice sounding less harsh but it still had an element of seriousness to it. Through tears and sobs, Kijoong looked to you and then to his dad, and then to you again before attempting to speak even though it looked like he was struggling, "Y-you said you leave when I don't need you a-and you ma-de daddy sad," he told you.

Though his words were simple and rather vague, you immediately realize what he was trying to tell you. You did tell him that you would only leave when he no longer needed you and you did tell him that you cared for him and his dad. So obviously in his simple mind, when you did leave when he still needed you and when Hongjoong had to deal with the absence of you, he blamed you. It didn't help that you already blamed yourself for Kijoong's episodes and the decision to leave them, hearing what Kijoong had to say made your heart break.

You were about to apologize and acknowledge that you messed up when Hongjoong grabbed Kijoong and turned around to face him, "Hey, you can't blame (y/n) like that, Kijoong. (y/n) didn't leave us, she was giving us time because she was scared that you'd get sick again, remember? Remember when you had another episode and then again?" Kijoong nodded, remembering both times he had an episode around you, "You remember what you told Uncle Mingi? You remember telling him you didn't want (y/n) to be your mommy because then she'd leave me?" again, Kijoong nodded, his mind clearing up as his sobs died down slowly. "(y/n) is not like your mom, Kijoong. Your mom... She was sick so she decided to go, she couldn't be anyone's mommy and yes, that made me sad but I'm no longer sad about mommy being gone because I had (y/n)." Though Hongjoong was talking to his son, you couldn't help but think that he was probably also talking to you, telling you how he felt about you and how serious he was about his feelings. "I was happy when she was around but then you got sick so we agreed that you should get better first and yes, that made me sad, but that was not (y/n)'s fault, that was my fault too. I'd rather be sad for a long time than to see you sick again and (y/n) also thinks the same way. We didn't want to be apart but we thought we had to."

Hongjoong didn't realize that he was starting to cry too until Kijoon reached up to wipe the tears off of his face. "I'm sorry daddy, sorry for being sick," he sniffled, now thinking that his dad was sad partially because of him. But Hongjoong immediately shook his head and pulled Kijoong into a tight embrace, "You silly little monkey, you don't ever apologize for being sick, okay? You can't help being sick, you have no say in that," then he pulled away, "But you have a say in letting people into your, into our lives, you hear me?"

It was then that Hongjoong turned his attention to you, seeing you looking at him so sadly. A small smile appeared on Hongjoong's face as he reached a hand to softly take yours, immediately rubbing his thumb gently on the back of your hand. "And I want you in our lives (y/n). The distance between us confirmed my feelings that it was never the proximity that affected my feelings for you, it was never the fact that we were simply in each other's lives. I didn't choose to have feelings for you but I was gifted the ability to develop feelings for you because it was you, it had to be you. I don't want to force you nor do I want to pressure you, but I really want you back in my life. You heard what Kijoong sad, I was sad without you," You couldn't help but chuckle and tried to look away when you felt a tear fell from your eye from being reunited with the father and son duo once again, remembering how much you silently miss them but not being able to know if you should approach them again only to know that both of them were missing you too. Seeing the tear, Kijoong reached out again and this time, he wiped the tear off of your face. It may seem stupid, but that moment made you feel like it was proof that Kijoong didn't have anything against you, not anymore at least and you didn't know how to feel about that.

"So, can you find it in yourself to come back to us?" Hongjoong asked, hopeful but he was still allowing you to make a decision.

Your shoulders slumped and you let out an exhale. You took a moment to look at Hongjoong and then at Kijoong, remembering all the good times with them and then also the bad times. The bad times that brought so many emotions and even some trauma back. As much as you were reluctant to give an answer right then and there, you knew you had to because if not then, then you would just postpone and risk ruining things further.

This is going to seem mean, but...

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@strawberry-yeo @luvt0kki @allisonleannn @dinossaurz @khjcs @blackb3ll @aloverga @at1nys-blog @itsbeeble @potatomountain @axo-l0tl @green-thots @intancollins @galaxypox @11glitch11 @maddiebabyxoxo @alyssajavenss @mirror-juliet @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @kodzukein @teenyfinds @dear-dreamie @mitchloveswriting @soobiverse @satsuri3su @phenomenalgirl9 @guess-monst3r @dimeb29 @ka-ni-ma @yayaistime @angelicyeo @kyume02 @thedistractedwriter @surveilenceysystem @ateezourstars @aursmrt @mismatchfluffysocks @puppyminnnie @nycol-ie @yungilia @writingbarnes @worcesheshestershiresauce

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 7 months

Text

Unpredictable-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I was inspired a lot by the Bama Rush documentary and couldn't get the idea of a sorority girl in GOD U out of my head. Let me know if you want a part 2.

Warnings: some swearing

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist

Future probability cognition, the ability to see potential future outcomes, was usually a nice power to have. At 7, I knew my parents were going to get divorced before either of them considered filing. At 9, I knew my mother would focus all her energy on the agency. At 12, I knew that my older brother would take a head of surgery job in Buenos Aires, escaping the chaos at home. Despite this history, nothing could have prepared me for my second year at Godolkin.

The first day back on campus was uneventful: I survived a grueling early morning Pilates class that I envisioned would put me in Sydney’s, the Si Chi president, good graces and, later in the afternoon, I settled an argument between two Si Chi juniors by predicting that brunch would be the most successful rush event.

Being (one of) the first black high-ranking members of Si Chi could be a full-time job.

As I was re-reading the chapters for Brink’s class, my V-Phone buzzed with a text from Leah, one of the seniors in the sorority.

L: Do you know Emma?

I quickly typed back: Which one? Wallace or the girl who got the botched nj in SK?

L: Neither. Short girl with curly blonde hair. She’s here 4 u.

The yelp that left my mouth would have been embarrassing if anyone else was in the house study room. Quickly, I tucked my book under my arm and ran into the ivory and wood-paneled foyer complete with Tiffany crystal chandelier and faint instrumental piano music playing through the Bluetooth speakers. At the door, Leah’s arms were crossed over her lavender babydoll dress as she smiled fakely at Emma, who looked more apprehensive than usual.

“Emma, hi, I thought I told you to text me when you got here!” I greeted as I approached the two.

Emma’s expression relaxed when her blue eyes landed on me. “Sorry, I got distracted and then I got lost trying to find you.”

I glanced at Leah, who shot me a questioning look. “Thanks, Leah, I can take it from here.”

Leah shrugged, turned, and teleported into thin air. Emma’s eyes widened again as she stepped further into the house and I closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about Leah; she’s cagier than usual because she couldn’t get a refill on her favorites,” I explained.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you aren’t like that,” Emma admitted.

I paused to finally hug her and she nearly crushed me as she wound her arms around my middle. It felt like forever since I had seen Emma, even though it was at my dad’s annual 4th of July barbecue. When I pulled away, Emma eyed the book in my hand.

“You’re reading before school starts. Nerd,” she teased.

I playfully pushed her shoulder. “We’re in college, we have to take school way more seriously now. Besides, a requirement for Si Chi is at least a 3.8.”

Emma tapped her chin. “Let me guess, you have a 4.0.”

I smiled and tugged her further into the house. Of course, I had to give her a tour of the house and introduce her to the girls we passed. When we finally got to my room, Emma collapsed on top of my pastel blue comforter, dropping her bag on the matching rug.

“I know Si Chi is a top house, but you basically live in Barbie’s Dream House,” Emma beamed. “How do I get in? What do I have to do? I will do literally anything or anyone.”

I rolled my eyes and set my book on my desk. “I’m glad you like the place but, you haven’t even met your roommate yet. What’s her name again?”

Emma pushed herself up on her elbows with a huff. “Marie Moreau. I tried to find her on social media, but she doesn’t have any: No X, no TikTok, not even an obligatory Facebook.”

Social media presence was basically a requirement at GOD U these days so it was a bold move for someone to show up without any. It could mean Marie was hardcore about her studies or…

“She might have strict parents,” I pointed out, sitting next to Emma.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “They better not be weird, cult-y parents. I guess that would be my luck too: have a psycho roommate my freshman year.”

“Hey, no one could have had it worse than me: a slob who always had boys over and threatened to gut me in my sleep,” I argued.

“But, you saw all of that coming,” Emma argued.

I shook my head. “Only the part where she stood over my bed with a knife in hand.” I sighed and pressed my hands into the covers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that ever again.”

“Really, because some of these girls are giving unhinged,” Emma replied.

“The nice thing is I either pick up on the signs or ‘see’ their breaking point,” I explained.

Emma nodded and pushed herself off my bed to start exploring my room. As she started messing with my checkered Moschino teddy bear figurine, my phone buzzed on my desk. When I grabbed it, I saw it was a video call from Cate.

“Hi, what’s up?” I greeted, holding the phone at the most flattering angle.

“I’m trying to entertain myself while Luke preps for training,” Cate admitted.

“What, you’re not totally entertained by your star boyfriend?” I teased.

Cate rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t wait for this to be over. You’re coming, right?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, we have a rush event at the same time, including a choreographed dance.”

“Ooh, did you choreograph it?” Cate asked.

“I might have helped a little.”

“Well, I’m pissed I’ll miss it but make sure to have someone send me all the cute videos and pictures,” Cate requested.

“Sure.”

There was some yelling in the background and Cate rolled her eyes.

“I have to go but we’ll talk later.”

“Bye!”

When I hung up, Emma was staring at me with her mouth gaping, the teddy figurine dangerously close to slipping from her grasp and onto the hardwood floor. I crossed the room as quickly as I could and carefully placed the figurine back on my dresser.

“Emma, I love you but if you break anything, I will lose it,” I warned.

“You know Cate Dunlap?” Emma asked slowly.

“Oh, yeah, she’s my peer mentor. Dean Shetty paired us up last year since our powers are similar,” I answered.

“So, you’ve met Luke Riordan? Like, you’ve been in his presence?”

“Yes,” I answered slowly.

“And you didn’t faint or throw up from his glory?”

“Emma, he’s a regular person. His powers are insane but he is also human, just like us.”

“No, I’m a regular person. Luke Riordan is, like, a demigod or something. Is he better looking in person?”

I hesitated and busied myself with grabbing my rush outfit from my closet and setting it on my bed. Then, I stared at my shoes, feeling Emma’s eyes bored into the back of my head. I closed my eyes and focused on the event tonight, the potential sounds and people. Seconds later, I got a decent image of my Si Chi sisters and I dancing in front of the house, surrounded by freshmen girls in Princess Polly and House of CB. I focused all my energy on looking at our feet and tried not to groan when I saw red high-top Converse.

“Every time,” I muttered as I opened my eyes.

Two more years, just two more years of going along and I would reap the benefits: a strong ranking, a decent contract, and my pick of the most eligible supes. I just had to keep playing the game.

I grabbed my platform red Converses and set them in front of my bed, sheepishly turning to Emma. “Yes, Emma.”

She squealed. “I knew it!”

I laughed at her joy as she bounced in her Vans. “Go to the training today and see for yourself.”

Emma’s expression deflated slightly as she walked closer to me. “I wish you could come, you could introduce us!”

“There will be a next time,” I stated.

“Promise?” She held up her pinky and eyed me as I slowly wrapped my manicured one around hers. She opened her mouth but was cut off by an alarm going off on her phone. “Shit, I have to go film a video!”

“You’re still doing Little Cricket?” I asked.

Emma shushed me loudly and her eyes filled with panic. “Not so loud and definitely not in this house!”

The girls probably already know all about it, I thought.

I flipped my waist-length box braids over my shoulder and laughed as she rushed towards the door. “You don’t know where you’re going, let me walk you out!”

She paused for a split second and gave me some time to catch up to her. However, I led her through the quickest route back to the front door and she gave me a quick hug before she took off. I laughed as I closed the door behind her.

“Some things never change,” I mused.

When I got back up to my room, I realized she left her backpack and groaned. She would have to learn to be more responsible if she was going to survive more than a week here. So, I grabbed my purse and her backpack before traipsing the campus. Fortunately, Emma had texted me her dorm information before she got on campus.

“In case of an emergency,” she’d insisted.

The freshman dorms were not as bad as I remembered them but I cringed at a few musty speedster jocks I crossed in the hallway. A brief premonition helped me duck to avoid an ice user’s power going out of control when I finally made it to Emma’s door. First, I rapped on the door three times.

“Emma, it’s me, you really have to keep a better eye on your stuff!” I called.

After a few seconds of no answer, I knocked again.

“Seriously? I can’t always be looking after you,” I teased.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing a pretty black girl with big brown eyes and long brown dreads that were pulled partly away from her face. Her eyes widened at me and I smiled.

“Sorry, I’m looking for Emma, she left her bag in my----”

Emma cut me off, appearing next to the girl, “I was wondering where that went, thanks!” She grabbed the bag from me.

“Oh, uh, come in,” the girl said, stepping aside.

I nodded and wandered further into their dorm. It was small, like most freshman dorms, but Emma’s side offered pops of color and coziness. The other side was more basic, probably because the girl just moved in.

“Marie, this is Y/N, my best friend, Y/N, Marie,” Emma introduced as she plopped onto her bed.

I turned to Marie and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She hesitated slightly before shaking my hand. “You too.”

“Don’t worry, Marie, you’ll get used to her hotness,” Emma advised.

My cheeks warmed as I whirled around to my friend. “Emma!”

“It’s true!”

The embarrassment floated in the pit of my stomach as I faced Marie, who looked somewhere between surprised and amused. “Sorry about her, she speaks without thinking.”

“It’s okay. How do you two know each other?” Marie asked.

“Her mom represents me,” Emma answered.

“Oh.”

“She’s the one who helped encourage me to make a YouTube channel and is helping me get into more commercials until my big break,” Emma continued.

I sighed as I sat in Emma’s desk chair. “We’ve known each other since I was four and she was three.”

“Do you want to be an actor too?” Marie asked.

I shook my head. “I tried it when I was little but it wasn’t for me.”

Emma’s eyes lit up and she sat up on her bed. “You should have seen her, she was so cute! She was that toddler in that one diaper commercial----”

“Emma,” I softly begged.

Marie laughed. “Now, I’m curious.”

“Please don’t look it up, it’s not worth it anyway,” I insisted.

Marie shrugged and sat on her bed. “My curiosity might get the best of me.”

“Why did you have to mention that stupid commercial?” I whined at Emma, who laughed at my pain. “Anyway, what’s your major?”

“Crimefighting,” Marie answered.

I straightened up. “Me too.”

“So, you’ve had classes with Brink? How is he? What’s he like?” Marie rambled.

“Well, he’s really tough on first years and makes his tests almost impossible to pass,” I admitted.

“Really?” Marie asked.

“But, I can help you if you want; I did pretty well last year,” I offered.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I questioned where they came from. Marie was a complete stranger, yet she was one of the easiest people to talk to. Normally, I stumbled over my words in front of new people, and this was…new.

“That would be great, thanks,” Marie replied.

Emma leaned forward. “Y/N, you are way too modest. She was in the top ten of the first years last year and she has a peer mentor and meets with Brink on a regular basis.”

Marie snapped her attention to me. “Wait, what?”

I shook my head. “She makes it sound more impressive than it is.”

“No, I’m not; she hangs out with the Top Five all the time.”

“Top Five?” Marie asked.

Emma and I turned to her, stunned.

“You don’t know what the Top Five are?” Emma asked slowly.

Marie shook her head, growing tenser the longer we looked at her.

“Godolkin ranks all the students based on their Q score, which is basically the strength of their powers, academics, and social media engagement. The Top One Hundred are the only ones published every day,” I explained.

“And the Top Five are the only ones everyone really cares about since they’re the ones most likely to make it into the Seven,” Emma added. “It’s on the GOD U app.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Marie admitted.

Emma balked at her. “How have you gone this far in life without a phone?”

Marie shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t let me have one.”

“What about emergencies?” I asked.

“Someone else always has one,” Marie countered.

Something was off about her statement and I knew that if I focused on it long enough, I would get a premonition about her. However, I decided that it would be rude to do that in conversation and tabled it for later.

“You’ll get through it,” I said.

“So, what ranking are you, Y/N?” Marie asked.

“Last I checked, I was number twenty,” I recalled.

Marie and Emma’s eyes widened at me, and I shrunk a little under their gaze. It really was not that impressive considering how intense the nineteen other people above me were.

“That’s amazing!” Emma cheered, leaping off her bed and hugging me.

“How did that happen?” Marie asked gently.

When Emma pulled away, I replied, “Well, right before summer break, I had a premonition about a case Brink had the class working on all year.”

“You solved a crime?” Marie concluded.

“I just helped with a tip,” I insisted.

“Please, Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t solved cases before,” Emma stated.

I narrowed my eyes at her and Emma smirked in reply. Marie held up her hands and shook her head.

“Wait, as in plural?”

“It’s really not a big deal. With all the forensics, psychology, and ethics classes you’ll take, you’ll be solving them too.”

Marie looked unconvinced but did not push it. “So, what’s your ability? I’m sorry if that’s rude to ask.”

“No, it’s fine. Future probability cognition, I can see potential outcomes for the future,” I explained.

“That’s amazing,” Marie complimented.

“Eh, a lot of times it means I get blurry images in my head but it’s helpful sometimes. What about you?”

“Blood manipulation.”

“Whoa, no offense, but that is such a supervillain power,” Emma thought outloud.

“Emma!”

“I said ‘no offense’!”

Marie laughed. “It’s okay, I get why people would think that.”

“Can you give us a demonstration?” Emma asked.

Marie nodded and grabbed a switchblade from her cargo pants’ pocket. In a graceful motion, she cut one of her palms and held it out in front of her. Seconds later, a circle of blood floated in the air like water, swirling each way. Marie smiled at our expressions and the blood slowly flowed back in her palm and the mark healed.

“That was awesome!” Emma cheered.

“I think Brink will like you,” I added.

“Thanks. I think it’s your turn, Y/N,” Marie said.

I hesitated. “Well, mine is definitely not as impressive as yours and I can’t promise I’ll see anything…positive.”

“That’s okay,” Marie insisted.

“You can use me as a demonstration,” Emma offered.

I turned to her and closed my eyes. My mind wandered to images of her face and the sound of her laugh. Eventually, I saw an image of her rolling around her dorm bed with some guy. Then, all of a sudden, she was small and--- “AAAH!” I jumped from my seat, both underclassmen looking at me confused.

“Is it that bad?” Emma asked.

My eyes looked everywhere but my best friend and my hands unconsciously flexed. “Whatever you do, do not bring a guy here in the future.”

“You don’t want me to get laid?”

“I don’t think you would want to experience what I just saw.” I shivered at the thought.

“Have your powers made you respond like that before?” Marie asked.

I nodded. “It’s rare, though, and I have help to get a handle on it.”

Slowly, I sat down and focused on the orange circle rug on the floor. Suddenly, I wished Cate was there to wipe that premonition from my memory. My stomach churned and I swallowed thickly.

“Oh, Marie, you have to come to the training with me today,” Emma announced.

“What training?”

“The Top Five have public training at the beginning of every year. This year, Luke Riordan is up first,” Emma explained with a grin.

“Luke’s a big deal?” Marie asked.

“Hell yeah, he’s number one!” Emma chastised.

Marie turned to me. “Are you going?”

I looked up at her and wondered if she seemed kind of hopeful. “No, I have to do rush tonight.”

“On top of everything else, she is also the secretary of Si Chi, the top sorority on campus,” Emma bragged.

“Wow, are you always this busy?” Marie asked.

“Not always. Things calm down once rush is over.” My phone beeped in my bag and I grabbed it. “Speaking of which, I have to run and get ready.”

“But you already look nice,” Marie commented.

“Thanks, but I need to be up to Si Chi standards. Have fun at the training and Emma, please try not to act up too much.”

“I can’t control what will happen once his clothes burn off.”

“What?” I shook my head. “I’ll see you around.”

The next day, I was shocked awake by a series of texts from Emma.

E: Emergency, pls come 2 my dorm.

E: Srsly, Marie needs ur help.

Immediately, I wondered my Marie would need my help. When I reached out to Emma last night, she was busy gushing over Luke and never mentioned any issues. Also, I didn’t see any posts about her on social media which calmed my nerves.

After texting her I would be there soon, I slowly pushed myself to sit up in my head and pushed my silk sleep mask up over my scarf. Then, I meditated for a few minutes, breathing through all the chaotic thoughts and scenarios that included strangers and people that I knew. Just when my temples began to throb, I stopped and made my way into the en-suite bathroom.

About thirty minutes later, Emma shoved her dorm room open and pulled me in. She was wearing a gray GOD U t shirt and matching shorts, her curly stuck up in random places.

“Where the hell have you been?” she whispered.

“I got here as soon as I could,” I defended. “What’s going on?”

Marie stood from her desk, a deep frown on her face, and made her way towards us. “I’m not in any Crimefighting classes; it’s all performing arts!”

I cocked my head to the side. “That’s weird. Can I see your schedule?”

“It’s on my phone.” Emma handed it to me and I started scrolling through Marie’s schedule.

“Did you register for any performing arts classes?” I asked.

“No, I registered for all the first-year Crimefighting classes,” Marie insisted.

The frustration was thick in her voice and I wondered what was keeping her from punching a hole in the wall.

“Is there anything I can do?” Marie asked.

“Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this happening.” I paused for a moment and smiled. “But I might be able to help. I have a meeting with Brink today and if you come with me, I could introduce you and we could get this all figured out.”

“Really? Do you know how it will go?”

“Let me try.”

I closed my eyes and focused on Brink, the Crimefighting building, and Marie. The images were as blurry as a Monet up close and all the audio was muffled as if everyone was speaking underwater. When I opened my eyes, I shook my head at Marie.

“Looks like it’s up to fate,” I commented.

Marie deflated and I did not know whether to comfort her or not.

“I’m sending good vibes your way,” Emma offered.

“Thanks, we’ll need it,” Marie replied.

As much as I wanted to push back, I did not like not knowing how this would turn out. My heart drummed in my ears later that day as we walked to the Lamplighter building. At the very least, the sun was beaming on everything, making Godolkin look shinier than usual. It was the perfect day for the white cherry-printed sundress and denim jacket I wore with platform white sandals. My braids flowed freely around me under the cool breeze.

When we walked into the building, I let out the breath I did not know I was holding in.

“You okay?” Marie asked.

“Yeah, why?” I replied.

“Your heart rate picked up,” she observed.

I paused and looked at her. “You can hear my heartbeat?”

She nodded. “Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird.” “Nothing’s weird at this school but, that’s good to know,” I assured.

I made a mental note to be more intentional in meditation as I led Marie to Brink’s office. The Lamplighter building was practically empty since most students were sleeping off hangovers. However, Jordan Li wasn’t most students and was at their usual post, the desk outside of Brink’s office, eyes focused on their laptop. They were in their feminine form, hair slicked back in a low ponytail.

A small smile etched its way on my glossed lips at the sight and I turned to Marie, whose eyes widened at Jordan.

“Let me do the talking,” I whispered.

“Sounds good,” she answered, nodding.

As soon as we got in front of Jordan’s desk, I waved my hand in front of their face to no avail. With no choice, I grinned as I slammed my hands on the desk and called their name. Immediately, Jordan jumped in their seat, yanking their earbuds out as they exclaimed an expletive.

I laughed as they rolled their eyes at me.

“Seriously, freshie?” Jordan commented.

“You can’t call me that anymore, I’m a sophomore,” I sang.

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Jordan teased.

My cheeks warmed at their words and I gripped my Longchamp tote closer to me in an attempt to get a grip on myself.

“By the way, I loved your little dance from last night,” Jordan added.

“You saw that?” I rasped.

“Rushtok is so big that no one can escape it.” Jordan glanced at their laptop. “You’re early, as usual.”

“I like to be punctual but, I also have someone who might be your new favorite freshman,” I replied.

“Impossible,” Jordan scoffed.

I nodded to Marie, who slowly moved to stand next to me. “This is Marie Moreau. Marie, this is Jordan Li, Brink’s TA.”

Jordan glanced at Marie, a smirk disappearing from their face. “Hi.”

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so awesome; your powers are incredible,” Marie confessed.

Jordan smirked. “I’m glad I impressed a freshman.”

Marie looked taken aback and glanced at me.

“I brought Marie with me since there’s been a mix-up. She applied for Crimefighting but she’s in all the performing arts classes. So, I was thinking that you’d be able to help,” I explained.

Jordan looked back at their laptop and started typing again. “I know, I’m the one who rejected her.”

Their words hung in the air and I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. As smart as Jordan was, they were either unaware of how deeply their bluntness could cut or they did not care. After knowing them for a year, I began to lean toward the latter.

“What?” Marie muttered.

“Why?” I questioned.

“She has no social media presence and, even though her scores are decent, she needs a following,” Jordan rattled.

“Isn’t that a little biased? Do you know what her powers are? If you knew, I think you would be open to making an exception,” I argued gently. “Besides, she can still get a following online. With her face, it will take no time.”

As soon as the comment left my mouth, I froze. I had no idea why I said that, maybe Emma’s tendencies had rubbed off on me.

“Sorry, the decision’s final.” Jordan did not sound apologetic at all and I thought I saw them trying not to smirk again.

“You can’t do that. Let me talk to Professor Brink,” Marie requested.

“There’s no point, he leaves all admission decisions to me,” Jordan said. “You should learn from your friend. Y/N here has ten million followers across her social media and solved the Glasgow Ripper case and a twenty-year-old cold case before she got here.”

Marie whirled around to me. “You solved the Glasgow Ripper case?”

“I just gave them a tip and it was supposed to be anonymous,” I muttered.

“Nothing is anonymous with Vought,” Jordan countered. “Plus, you led them to key evidence.”

“They would have solved it…eventually,” I admitted.

Based on my original estimate, it would have taken them three years and I always felt horrible whenever they showed the victims’ families on the news. The tension in the space was thick as Jordan and Marie glared at each other. I wracked my brain for something, anything to say.

Fortunately, Brink took care of the tension when he burst out of his office, gun in hand, and shot at Jordan. Marie yelped as Jordan switched to their male form and absorbed the shot.

“Wow, every time,” Brink admired.

“If you keep it up, I’m going to run out of shirts, sir,” Jordan replied, smiling.

Brink turned to Marie and me. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here, early as always.”

“Hi, Professor Brink. How was your summer?” I asked.

“Busy. And yours?”

“Good. Um, Professor, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but this is Marie Moreau and there was a mix-up with her schedule,” I started.

Professor Brink nodded and turned to Marie. “Is that so?”

Marie quickly explained the dilemma, narrowing her eyes at Jordan but was able to stay as calm and professional as possible. I glanced at Professor Brink’s expression and while he looked pleasant, I dreaded his words.

“Well, if Jordan rejected you, that’s final. I trust their judgment,” Professor Brink affirmed. “You can serve as a hero in many ways; Crimefighting is a select group of students who show high aptitude in several areas. That does not mean anyone else is less valuable. Maybe we will see you on Dancing with the Stars one day.”

Marie’s face fell and her body tensed. I might have started crying if I was in her position but her eyes stayed dry. I gently put my hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out,” I muttered.

She did not look convinced and as I politely followed Brink into his office, I prayed that I would get some sort of helpful premonition. Then again, why did I want to help this girl? I knew her for less than twenty-four hours. Nothing was making sense.

Later that day, I practically ran a hole into my bedroom floor as I ruminated over my next steps. My meeting with Brink was unremarkable and I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Marie into crim. She was obviously a strong hero in the works, even if Jordan didn’t see it. One way to help would be to get her into a decent house on campus since that was one of the only viable routes outside of making it into the Top 100 to get noticed on campus. However, Marie did not strike me as the sorority type.

Then again, I could help her with donors at fundraisers since they loved throwing their money to make themselves feel better. As I thought, my mind somehow circled back to Jordan. It was fun getting a rise out of them after everything last year. They were not as rude to me as they were to Marie, but they were still terrifying last year. They always had a critique for someone and had reduced numerous kids to tears before the first semester ended. Somehow, I impressed them last year and they started being nicer to me. It probably also did not hurt that I had befriended Cate.

“Ugh, it’s hopeless!” I huffed, plopping onto my bed.

Even when I tried to get premonitions, there was nothing helpful; just Jordan and Marie arguing while I attempted to settle things.

What was this year turning into?

My phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts, and I answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Do you have any rush shit tonight?” Cate asked.

I sat up and eyed her in the video call. “No, all the presidents and VPs are meeting tonight so we’re on our own.”

“Great, so you’re free to go out with us,” Cate concluded with a grin.

My heartbeat picked up at the thought of going out with Cate and the others. Any time I went out with them always ended in an interesting story, from the time Cate got us all out of a really embarrassing ticket to the time Andre and Luke drunkenly dueted “Never Gonna Give You Up” in a Korean karaoke bar.

“I know that face, you’re thinking too much,” Cate warned.

“Not in a bad way, in a good way. Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry, just wear something hot and meet us in the parking lot at ten.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and set the phone on my dresser. Maybe this would help me clear my head or get me out of my head. Sometimes the thoughts could be suffocating but I would get a break tonight. I closed my eyes and wondered what would happen tonight. Slowly, clear images of a dark club and the sound of a thumping bass flooded my mind. The club was crowded but I saw myself dancing with Cate and…Marie?

#gen v x reader #jordan li x reader #black!reader #marie moreau x reader #limoreau x reader

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proposalanonaita · 3 months

Text

FINE.

The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.

Ugh.

I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).

All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.

With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.

I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.

He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.

...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So.

The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.

For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.

And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.

He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.

It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.

He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.

I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.

I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.

He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.

I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.

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cinnamonest · 2 months

Note

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes his stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

#lord forgive me but this is the GOOD stuff #like taking reader from her lover/husband/bf by force... hnnnnng

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zepskies · 11 months

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Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.”

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload!

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late.

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late.

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sunk further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm.

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.”

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—”

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass.

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform.

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment.

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum.

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head.

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day.

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow.

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits.

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session.

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head.

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn.

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit.

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms.

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.”

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown).

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.”

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom.

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately.

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie.

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York.

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment.

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that?

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you.

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower.

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why…

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier.

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt.

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate.

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen.

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face.

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you.

“What now?” he groused.

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest.

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek.

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important.

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV.

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said.

You frowned and followed his gaze.

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment.

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said.

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity.

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck.

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm.

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back.

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability.

Then he turned to face the TV screen.

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he��s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?”

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded.

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men.

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face.

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face.

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist.

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up.

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband.

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world.

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone…

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa.

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you.

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose.

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either.

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders.

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father.

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th.

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep.

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

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916 notes · View notes

dre6ming · 6 months

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Christmas tree shopping

The delicate beginning rush

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x singer/actress fem reader

Warnings: smut, sex, explicit content, mentions of blood, crying, bad family relationships, fluff

Word count: ~3000

Plot: Christmas tree shopping puts a small dent into your heart considering the past, so when Austin asks that you do it together, you have some holdbacks.

I love Christmas! And that's that. I've always loved it, ever since I could understand the concept of it. I adore the buzz of the crowd searching for gifts, the smell of Christmas foods, the decorations, the songs, the movies. I mean you'd have to have a big lump of coal for a heart to not like Christmas. But with all my love for this time of the year, this year I'm just not feeling it.

As I walk the crowed streets of New York all on my own, with my big fluffy scarf covering most of my face, I look around at the stores wondering where I could go next, dreading going home, where Austin waits for me so we can go Christmas tree shopping. When he proposed the idea that we go together, I just nodded and smiled, but in my heart a big hole was being uncovered. I used to go Christmas tree shopping with my dad, some of my favorite memories with him, are of us choosing a tree, setting it up in the living room and decorating it together. Those were some of the best hours in the whole year. But then the divorce happened right before Christmas, no one bought a Christmas tree, I didn't even bother decorating that year, I stayed over at Timmy's house, then the year after that, was mine and Austin's first Christmas together, but he was with his family and I went again to Timmy's house.

This year though, he wants us to have a Christmas together together. He suggested that we spend it over at his LA home, but Christmas is supposed to be cold and wet and snowy, not sunny and hot, so we are going to have a small party at my apartment on the 25th, until then he wants all the Christmas stuff to be done. Which I'm more than happy to do, but I was hoping we'd get a fake tree from Amazon or something.

I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my coat and I know I can't ignore him, or he will get worried, so I sigh, taking the phone out and answering the call. "Hi, Aus! I'm still looking at a few shops, they've got really nice things out here, I bought some stuff." I lie, having not bought even a single thing. "Don't worry darling, I was just checking in, what do you say, I come get you with the car and then we go to the Christmas tree market?" He asks so sweetly, it hurts my heart. "Um actually I don't know, I don't think I'm gonna be much longer, so just wait for me back at the apartment." I hate the anticipation of the disappointment in his voice. "That's fine Y/n, just be safe, I love you!" I close my eyes and rub my temple with my free hand, feeling a headache creep it's way to me. "Love you too!" I cut the call short and keep walking, smiling as I spot the rusty old sign from Frank's record store.

As I enter the smell of cinnamon and chocolate, hits me, soft jazz playing in the background. The store looks empty today, except for Frank, sitting behind the counter, reading a book. As the door bell rings he looks up from his book and smiles at me, getting up to come hug me. "Hey kid, haven't seen you in a hot minute. Though I've heard plenty of you. I never knew fruitcake makes you sick" he laughs, referencing my latest album, a Christmas ep called fruitcake. "Very funny!" I giggle, unwrapping the scarf from my neck and undoing some of the buttons on my coat.

"Well I've been busy, but I'm home for the holidays." I say, looking around, skimming through some of the new records he has in store. "Hm I bet you're busy, touring arenas and all. Hey kid look what I have here." Frank says as he goes to the back and brings out a mysterious vinyl. "It's a first edition. A mix done on vinyl in the 90's, all your favorites are on here." He explains, replacing the vinyl he had one with the new one he brought. "Last Christmas I have you my heart.." the song starts playing and I start singing along.

"Want some hot cocoa?" Frank asks, putting the closed sign on the door, as I take of my coat to be a bit more comfortable. "Of course I want some, extra-" "-Whipping cream, I know" he finishes my sentence, making both of us laugh. As Frank goes to make the hot cocoa, I take my phone out and text Austin.

Hey, something came up, I'm over at Roxy's place. Can we reschedule?

Austin

Sure, hope everything is alright. Love you 💜🧶

Ofc, love you too

I hate lying to him, but I just don't feel like having a therapy session right now. "Hmm perfect!" I smile taking the cup from Frank and drinking some of the delicious hot beverage. "So any big plans for Christmas this year?" He asks, and I start telling him all about the dinner me and Austin are hosting for friends and family.

Before I knew it I had spent a few good hours over at Frank's store and then I had to call Matt to come get me with the car and drive me back home, as it had gone dark outside. So now I'm in the elevator, watching the buttons of each floor light up, until we get to number 10. I walk in and the whole place is quiet, no sight of Austin or any cats, so I guess that he must be sleeping. Tiptoeing to my room I find Austin sleeping on the bed with Simba and William cuddled up to him. Walking into the closet I try to make as little sound as possible and I start to take off my clothes.

I feel a pair of arms wrap around me and I let out a small scream, startled for a moment. "Shh it's me" Austin whispers against my ear, kissing down my neck, I lean into him and reach my hand back, to comb through his thick hair. "It's ok.." I moan as he sucks the skin right above my collarbone. His hands travel down my abdomen and unbutton my jeans, his right hand sliding down between my legs, into my underwear. "Austin.." I sigh, putting all my weight on him. "Shh, don't talk." Austin says

He's skilled fingers work me like magic, his left arm tight around my waist holding me up, as he plugs a finger into me. I gasp, fisting his hair, as he moves slowly inside me. "Shh no talking." He repeats, after I try to moan his name again. This is something we've never done before, he usually likes me talking during sex, and he encourages me to be vocal, but this time he wants me to be quiet.

I'm lost in my train of thought and don't realize the moment he pulls his hand away and picks me up, taking me to the bed. "Aus?" I ask concerned as he removes my jeans but not my panties. He looks at me, but there's no tenderness like before, he looks mad? "No talking." Is all he says, as he takes off his clothes and puts on a condom, getting on top of me. "Aus baby, is something wrong?" I ask touching his face. A faint smile crosses his face and a glimmer of something sweet shows up in his eyes. My heart beats at a thousand miles per hour and I'm aroused as ever, but something is off.

"Nothings wrong, I just want to feel you." He says, kissing me, his hands going back to their ministrations. We move in sink and I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. Austin's hands go immediately to my breasts, kneading and pinching my nipples. "Fuck!" He grunts as I sneak my hand down and pump his cock, touching his tip to my covered pussy, wishing right now there was no thin layer of cotton between us.

"Please!" I beg as his head nudges at my wet pussy, brushing against my clit, sending electric shocks up my spine. "Fucking hell!" Austin curses, guiding his hand between us, to push my panties to the side, quickly sliding into me. I wince in pain, as he usually takes his time opening me up, but this time he seems to be in a hurry. His lips find mine and he swallows my whimpers. When he's all the way in, he stills and waits for me to give him the ok to move. After a few moments of sitting like this conjoined, with my legs around his waist, my hand in his hair and his around my waist, something changes, something in him, he starts feeling warm and soft, unlike the cold stiff feeling he was giving me before, it's like he melts into me.

His hands moves up my body, wrapping tightly around me. "I'm sorry!" He says in a broken voice. "It's ok, doesn't hurt anymore, please move." I say caressing his cheek, encouraging him to pull his hips back. When his pelvis meets mine again, fireworks sparkle behind my closed eyelids. Austin starts a slow pace, each time going deeper and deeper if that were possible. The room is filled my muffled moans and skin slapping noises, as both of us feel closer and closer to the sweet release. "Shit Austin, I need more, please!" I beg arching my back to give him a new angle.

Austin groans in my ear and picks up the pace, placing one hand behind my head on the pillow and the other on my clit, rubbing slow circles. "I love you! I love you so much!" I say, feeling closer to my orgasm, my walls spasm around hid twitching cock. "Fuck!" His voice sound strangled and he moves faster, sloppier. "I love you I love you Iloveyou!" I say over and over again and over again. He keeps his moves fast and rhythmic, I curl my toes and pull on his hair, my orgasm wrecking through my body, tingling head to toe. Austin keeps moving until I feel him tens and he cums moaning into my shoulder.

We sit a few minutes tangled together, breathing in sink, his heart thudding against my chest. The without a word, Austin pulls out, leaving me empty, getting up and going to the bathroom. I'm left staring at the ceiling, wondering what this whole experience was just weird. I sit up in bed and wrap myself in my fluffy robe, getting up, going to the kitchen to drink some water.

I keep thinking what just happened, I can't imagine what must have happened to make Austin act like this. It's not that the sex didn't feel good, it did, but it felt like he was somewhere else, or at lest trying to be somewhere else. "Are you hungry ?" I jump at Austin's voice, dropping the glass of water on the floor. Without thinking I try to reach for the broom, to clean this up, but I step on a shard of glass. "Aw, fuck fuck!" I let out, holding onto the counter, lifting my leg up to see if the cut is bad. It's only a small shard, so the cut is barely a graze, but blood is already coming out of it. "Don't move!" Austin warns, walking around the broken glass and water, coming next to me. He puts both hands on my waist and lifts me up on the counter, the going to clean the mess I made.

We sit in silence, as he cleans and I feel the blood dripping down my foot. When he's done, he goes away and I start thinking if he just left me here, which I know is stupid, but my brain can't stop making weird scenarios up. "Show me your leg!" Austin says, kneeling down in front of me, cleaning my wound and putting a bandage over it. "All done!"

"Are you mad at me?" I ask at the same time as he speaks and he blushes, looking the other way, avoiding my eyes. "Where were you today?" He asks and as I open my mouth to answer he interrupts me. "Don't lie, Roxy came over, thinking you were here." I sigh and jump off from the counter, ignoring the pain in my leg. I wobble a little bit, despite my best effort, so Austin puts his hands up around me, ready to catch me if anything were to happen. I look him up and down, thinking about what I could say, I could just tell him the truth, but I haven't really told him much about mine and my dad's relationship. He waits patiently for me to answer and the way his arms are still around me, like waiting for a hug, makes me want to melt right into him, but I choose the childish part of me, pushing him away and walking past him.

"Did something happen?" His voice sounds like an echo and for a moment I feel like he didn't even speak and it was all my imagination. I turn around slowly, looking at his face, his eyes are read, teary. "Aus-"

"I know you weren't at Roxy's place, you didn't answer your phone, you were out shopping all day and yet, came back with no bags or nothing." Austin's hands are shaking, so I walk up to him slowly, taking his hands in mine, but he takes a step back, pulling away, which breaks my heart. "Can we sit down? I can explain everything." He shakes his head and I close my eyes taking a deep breath, preparing for the things I'm about to say.

"I was at Franks store, I did go out to buy somethings, but my head was somewhere else so I didn't get anything, just walked around." I start saying and he fiddles around with his hands. "Why?"

"I wanted to go Christmas tree shopping, but it just it hurt to much. I haven't gone shopping with anyone other than my dad, it was our thing, but I'm no longer a part of his life and it's, it's like slowly learning how to breathe again." His face saddens more, but this time, the sadness is pointed my way, and I appreciate his empathy, but I'd like if he'd stop. "I'm sorry I really am, it's just been hard on me to.." my voice breaks down and I lick my lips, tasting the salt of my tears.

Austin closes the distance between and hugs me tight. "You should have told me, I'm sorry, we don't have to go if you don't feel like it, baby" he says rubbing my back, holding me close to him. "I think if you go with me , I could do it. " he chuckles, kissing the top of my head and we stand hugging for a moment.

"Aus?" I ask softly something still on my mind. "Yeah?" "Is something wrong, you felt a little cold, you know, earlier." I feel him stiffen a bit, so I wiggle out of his arms to look up at him. "Well I was worried about you and my sister told me that she and the kids are down with some virus and can’t make it to Christmas, so I was just filled to the brim with worry." I smile at him, touching his hair lightly, placing some flyaway hairs back. "Oh my baby, want some hot cocoa? And how about we bake something?" I say, walking back to the kitchen counter and getting things ready for a feel better night. "Your butter cookies? With orange?" He asks puppy eyed, making me giggle. "Well I did just buy some oranges yesterday, so why even ask?" I say putting milk on the stove to warm up and already measuring the right amount of flour and sugar.

Between finishing the hot cocoa and adding the flour to the dough, someone decided to start a fight with flour, so we're now laughing, picking flour from our hair, as the cookies rise. "You're such a child." I chuckle, wiping his nose. "I just couldn't help myself" he shrugs, smirking at me.

The next morning we wake up as late as we can and now we're enjoying a shower together. His hands wash my skin tenderly, massaging all the stiff spots. "I don't think I'll ever get bored of washing your hair!" He admits, bubbling the shampoo between his hands, then applying it to my hair. "Well I'll never get bored of you washing my hair, so lucky for you!"

After what must have been the slowest start of day in months, we finally enter the Christmas tree market, hand in hand. Being here does feel weird without my dad, but not as bad as I thought. Austin squeezes my hand three times and that calms me a bit, so I take a deep breath, looking at all the trees. "Can we get a huge one?" I ask already having my eye on one. "I was thinking smaller, but whatever you want." He says, looking the opposite way the trees that are way too small for my liking. "How about two trees?" I suggest, smiling at him.

"Honey I don't think we'll fit in the elevator with this." Austin says, as he pull down the tree that's almost twice his height, from the roof of my heel. Driving around New York with this on top of the car was of course something out of a comedy. "So up the stairs?" I ask hoping he'd say "no"

"I think so." He sighs, looking with dread at the staircase door. "Ok then.." I say defeated, locking the car and getting ready to help him.

Around the 2nd floor it feels like I'm dying, we decided that best way was for me to go up pulling and him pushing form down. "I think we're going somewhere." I encourage, already cursing myself for not going to the gym enough. Austin laughs, form somewhere behind the tree branches. "Yeah the North Pole!" He jokes

On the 10th floor we stop at the door of the apartment, him in better shape than me, but still just as tired. "You have no idea how lucky you are I love you!" Austin says, kissing my cheek. "I love you too!"

"Is it straight?" Austin asks from under the tree, trying to place it in the tree stand. "A little to the left!" I instruct. "My left? Or your left?" He asks, out of breath. "Mine, ugh no, yours. I don't know, can you get out of from there?" I ask and he comes to sit next to me. The tree is still very much crooked, but I think I like it this way. "I think I like it this way!" Austin says, rubbing my back. I snuggle into his side and stand on my tippy toes to kiss him. "I think I agree!"

"I think I love you!" He says, picking me up and spinning me around. "Did you notice that you kinda picked a tree looking like me and I picked one looking like you?" Austin jokes again, but as I look at the two Christmas trees, now realizing that the very obvious height difference does resemble the one me and Austin have between us. "I think we just did the funniest thing." I admit, going to the boxes on the floor and taking an ornament out, placing it in the smaller tree Austin chose. "Merry Christmas, y/n! I love you!" Austin says, placing and ornament in the tree I picked. "Merry Christmas Austin, I love you too!"

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