#i have to look into getting the next three books

[mandarinmoons]

hi! i have an idea ive been thinking about for a while. spencer and the team (plus reader) are at a bar and reader goes off to get a drink/dance/talk to someone and either a girl or a group of girls come up to spencer and start flirting with him. the first thing she/they ask ofc is "do you have a girlfriend?" and spencer (not realizing they are flirting) is like yes!!! her name is _____ and she is amazing and i love her so much.... and he goes on like a 20 minute rant about reader. reader finally finds him talking to these girls/girl and has to recuse them/her from his ranting about herself and explain what they actually meant.

sorry that was a lot but i wanted to make sure understood what i was envisioning. thank you so much!!!

“Spence, please!”

Spencer kept pulling you closer as he tried to nuzzle his way into your neck and leave a few kisses behind your ear. He wasn’t one for PDA, but after a few shots he was puddy in your hands and everyone had to witness what a mess you made of him in this state.

“I just wanna be close to you,” you could feel him pout as his lips were pressed against your neck, his thumbs rubbing over your waist.

“Looks like you’re not getting out of here anytime soon, huh pretty girl?”

Derek chuckled as he took pleasure seeing his younger brother of a coworker finally have a girlfriend, especially with how clingy he was being at the moment. It was as if Spencer would follow you if you were to leave for only a minute, which he had done approximately half an hour ago when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and somehow he still had enough brainpower to talk about how hand-dryers could actually spread more germs and not remove them. He’d even taken it upon himself to take some paper towels and dry your hands for you, making sure to even dry the spaces between your fingers.

You had had only one drink and you were not going home unless you had a second one. Spencer had already downed three in that time, and looking at the state that he was in, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get served any more tonight.

“Spence, I'm going to get a quick drink, okay? Stay here.”

Prying his hands off of you, you quickly slipped out of Spencer’s grasp before he managed to put his hands on your waist again.

A few minutes later, Penelope pulls Derek to the dance floor while Emily comes across an old friend and excuses herself to have a word with her, leaving Spencer all by himself at the booth, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth while fidgeting with his fingers. He was too deep in thought that he didn’t notice a group of girls come over and sit next to him, their intentions clearly not innocent.

“Hi! You’re here all alone?”

“Oh, I’m not! I’m here with my girlfriend and team mates!”

“I don’t see any girlfriend around.”

“She went to get a drink. Oh, she loves an aperol spritz, she’s got great taste, in general not just in drinks.”

The girls watched in amazement as Spencer kept talking about every small thing he could come up with about you, from your favorite color and the psychological meaning behind it to your Myers Briggs personality type and how you’re both compatible.

As the endless line at the bar finally came to an end and you managed to get your drink, walking back to the team’s spot you noticed the unfamiliar girls surrounding Spencer and your stomach churned in nerves. The closer you got however you noticed their bored and confused faces and that’s all you needed to know that Spencer had most probably pulled his book smarts out on them and left them speechless.

“Oh and this one time- Y/N, you’re back!”

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, nearly knocking the drink out of your hands. Managing to put it down on the table, you rested your hand on his back as you turned your attention to the strangers, them clearly on the edges of their seats and ready to bolt at any moment.

“We’re gonna go, nice to meet you both.”

Your eyes followed them as they quickly got up and made their way to the other side of the bar, even from a distance you could see the red hue on their cheeks, embarrassment written all over their faces.

“Spence, what did they want?”

“They came over and asked if I had a girlfriend.”

“That’s it?”

Spencer nodded as he nuzzled into your stomach, “And I talked about how great you are and how I’m going to marry you one day.”

Laughter erupted from your mouth as you heard the answer, also because of Spencer’s fingers practically digging into your sides that it was tickling you.

“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s what they meant by that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually when someone asks “Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?”, it’s their way of asking “Are you single?”

Spencer blinked his eyes, your words not yet registering in his head.

“They were flirting with you.”

“Oh… really?”

Nodding along, the conversation was put on halt as everyone made their way back to the table.

“You guys had to leave him alone, huh?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Some girls came up to Spencer and tried to hit on him.”

“Oh, pretty boy’s got game now, huh?”

The team chuckled, but Spencer kept burrowing his head more into your embrace. It was clear that no matter how many girls tried their luck with him it would inevitably fail, as you were his home that he would come back to every time.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[ellecdc]

oh my god. I love your slytherin reader x marauders!!!! your writing is amazing!!!! could you do like a part three I guess? but like of later in their relationship and the reader has this little first year friend (who she is forced to tutor but she actually likes him but won't admit it) and he reminds her of the boys and the boy just like brings her flowers and chocolates and stuff and the boys see it and James gets all jealous and Sirius is just like "nah just watch mate" and expect the reader to get all annoyed but she doesn't she just doesn't say anything (because she secretly finds the boy sweet and doesn't wanna be mean to the tiny marauder like man) so then they are all in disbelief and pouty

sorry that was very long

hehe...hehehe.....this request is from March 14th 🫢 thank youuuuu for the prompt and sorry for the huge wait..... [also, let this perhaps let people know that I do have old requests saved!]

poly!marauders x fiesty!reader who has an admirer [1.2k words]

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: fem!reader, reader is feisty, Sirius is upset she's not feistier

“I’m not sure if you boys were aware,” Marlene drawled as she plopped herself onto an empty wingback chair in the Gryffindor common room, “but there’s some ickle little first year making moves on your girl.”

Her comment was met by a snort from James, a bark of laughter from Sirius, and an eye roll from Remus. 

“Thoughts and prayers to the first year, then.” James commented, never looking up from the rubik’s cube he was fiddling with as his back rested against Sirius’ folded legs. 

“I don’t know.” Marlene sing-songed. “He seems pretty sweet on her.” 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed. “Our darling girl is the least approachable person in Hogwarts, I hardly believe there’s a wix bold enough to solicit her, let alone a puny little first year.”

“He didn’t have to solicit her, she’s tutoring him.” 

“Honestly, Marls, I’ve never been less concerned about anything in my entire life.” James admitted.

“Could be interesting to watch, yeah?” Sirius offered with a mischievous wink, nudging James with his knee. 

Remus rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, though he did close his book with a mischievous smirk. “Someone should be there to save him from our little viper.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” Marlene laughed as she waved them off, not bothering to hide her devious grin. 

It didn’t take long for the boys to find you, seeing as you were haunting what you had early on in your schooling dubbed the ‘most superior table’ in the library. You’d told them what made it so, but James had been paying more attention to the way your lips were moving and less on the actual words that were leaving them. 

“Oh Merlin, the poor sod has no clue.” Sirius all but giggled as they crouched behind one of the aisles of books surrounding your table. 

“Not terrible.” They heard you say as you looked over his work, and based on the boy's beaming smile one would assume you’d given him high praise.  “But you’re getting ahead of yourself and not showing your work.”

“Does showing my work matter if the answers are right?” The kid asked, and James couldn’t blame the kid - he’d had many-a-conversations along the same lines over the years. 

You simply lifted his parchment and walloped him over the head for it. “Yes, showing your work matters; you will lose marks if you don’t.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down.” The kid said solemnly, and James’ heart momentarily melted before he realised that was his darling angel that he was putting the moves on. 

He waited for you to groan and call him a rotten toerag, but you simply shook your head and instructed him to do the next question, making sure to show his work this time. 

“Get a load of this kid; she’s gotta be just about ready to hex him.” Sirius murmured. 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t, honestly.” James replied, causing Remus to snicker.

“The two of you have been hexed for less.”

The three were interrupted when the kid let out a theatrical gasp and dropped his quill. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” He screeched before ripping open his book bag.

After far too long spent searching the inside of his bookbag, the kid withdrew a slightly crumpled rose, letting out a disappointed groan when he saw the state of it. “My astronomy textbook must’ve crushed it.”

“Why do you have a rose in your bag?” You deadpanned, and the kid was right back to beaming again.

“I brought it for you, of course. I picked the prettiest one for the prettiest girl.”

This was it, this was the moment they were here for; Sirius watched eagerly as Remus grimaced, each equally anxious for your no doubt cantankerous response. 

But it never came.

You simply let out a sound bordering a breath, a sigh, and a laugh as you gingerly took the wilted rose between two fingers. 

“Very thoughtful. Please get back to your homework.” Was all you offered him, but the kid seemed no less pleased as he picked up his quill and dutifully returned to his work. 

“What in the buggering fuck?” Sirius hissed, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Remus, but it was too late.

“Can I help you boys?” You drawled, though you never actually looked behind you where your three boyfriends were still hiding. 

“Yes, you can help me.” Sirius barked, storming out from behind the stacks followed closely by James and less closely by Remus who had the grace to look a little shamefaced for his spying. “You can help me understand what the hells all this is!”

“This is called tutoring and studying, Sirius, if you spent any time in a library, it might be more familiar to you.” You offered simply, turning a glare in Remus’ direction when he snorted. 

“Okay, swot, what I mean is why are you hear letting this little dugbog-”

“Sirius!” You chided quickly.

“Oh my gods! And you’re defending him!” Sirius continued shrilly, earning him various shushings from surrounding students. 

James couldn’t help but notice you roll your eyes in exasperation, but he also noticed the faintest hints of a smile dancing on your lips. 

“You’ve done well, Cameron; keep practising, and for the love of Merlin make sure you show your work next time or so help me gods…”

“Yes ma’am!” Cameron replied as he packed up his bag. “See you next week?”

“Just as we always have.” You drawled in a bored tone, though you offered him a smirk as he hustled out of the library. 

“I can’t believe you!” Sirius huffed as he took Cameron’s now vacated seat. 

“Angel…what is the meaning of all this?” James asked earnestly, causing Remus to snort as he had the decency to press a kiss to your hair in greeting. 

“If we’d have known you were meeting with new suitors, dove, we would have insisted on accompanying you to your tutoring sessions.”

“Oh please.” You dismissed. “He’s just a kid.”

“Uhm, and?” Sirius pouted.

“Sweetheart, we’ve seen you jinx a kid for sneezing too closely to you.” Remus reminded you, and your face darkened.

“Germ infested little freaks.”

“There’s our girl.” Sirius exclaimed. “I can’t believe you let him get away with any of that!” 

“He’s harmless.”

“He’s a flirt.” Sirius corrected.

“He’s you.” You shot back, and the three boys all looked at you with various levels of bemusement. 

“I beg your pardon?” James finally asked, and you shook your head as you began packing up your own bag. 

“He’s like a miniature version of the three of you; following me around and being abhorrently affectionate.”

“Well, hey, I think we’re, like, an appropriate amount of affectionate.” James tried. 

“No, it's sort of abhorrent sometimes.” Remus quickly agreed. 

“Babe…” Sirius cooed, causing Remus and James to grimace. “Are you going soft on us!?” 

Your eyes immediately darkened as you glowered at him, and if Sirius’ sudden flinch and the following yelp proved anything, you aimed a tame stinging jinx at him. 

“On the kid? Maybe.” You responded primly. “On the three of you? Jury’s still out.”

[jmdbjk]

We are sure.

WARNING, SPOILERS.

I have no doubt that every now and then, especially in the beginning, at the end of a long day or when they are tasked with doing something they've never encountered... they look at each other and say ...

And it allows them to laugh it off. They said they were making memories they could look back on while doing their service. What a fantastic period of time they had to create these memories.

This ending scene of the last episode of Are You Sure? has changed the way I think about that moment of them from the Bangtan Bomb of their enlistment day.

On their enlistment day we were so sad and were convinced they were too. And they were. But at that time we had no idea the fun they had during these three fantastic trips, they ate some wonderful food, drank a lot of beer, saw sights they don't have time to see when they are traveling for promotions and performing, spent a lot of "just being" time together which is obviously something they enjoy doing.

And knowing that at the end of Jungkook's I Am Still documentary, there was a scene of him showing Jimin his shaved head... it's as close to seeing it all play out as we're ever going to get. Piece it all together and you have a clear picture of this strong connection they have with each other.

Like Hobi said in his recent Weverse letter, I hope Jimin and Jungkook have come to realize by now it will all be ok. 27 days left until Hobi is back. 8 months, 23 days until Jimin and Jungkook are back. 38 more Mondays.

And they gave us a tiny bit of hope that this isn't the end of Are You Sure.

Delulu time: They have a lot of time to scheme and plan a reboot. Planning the next trip can also help them have something to look forward to. Like Jin did, they can do a quick live at the Hybe building before jetting off to Bora Bora or Alaska to start filming the reboot of AYS. They can make it happen if they want to. It will be another ten days after their discharge before Yoongi is free too and the group can be one again. They can go away for a few days, get comfortable with cameras and civilian clothes again. Get busy, Universe! Please?

All along, Jungkook was expressing his love for these trips, his excitement for the experiences, his enthusiasm for the good food and his easy-going vibe because he's with someone who fits him so well. Jimin enjoys the vibe of being with Jungkook and enjoys watching Jungkook be immersed in everything that brings him joy. He said if we watched these episodes, this is what its like at home.

They made it clear there are no other people on earth either of them would rather be with than each other for these trips. Jungkook said it himself: these were the best trips of his life. Jimin teared up a little when it was time to head to the airport. This was a chapter closing in their lives. If it impacted them this much, they will for sure somehow try to do it again after military service.

Besides the fact the two loved creating this, the series has been ranking high in viewers which would help sway any decisions as to whether a reboot is worth the expense. Of course it is!

Questions: I guess the behind episodes will also be on Disney? Why would they be submitted for ratings if they were only going to be on BangtanTV? Or maybe they'll be on Weverse too?

With the purchase of the photo book, there is a digital code for 52 more minutes of footage. We'll begin seeing clips of that on Sept. 29 when people begin receiving their copies. Got mine! Can't wait for it to get here!

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[scribere-flores]

Sabo x Reader

~Just as a hypothetical question~

Part 5. Other Parts Word count: 3,8k words Short summary: Reader is preparing her escape, slowly losing it over her confusing feelings. Sabo is in his stalker era. AN: Dear God, I don't know what took over me when writing this. Let me begin with saying I don't condone stalking irl, this is just a silly self-indulgent fic. There is also mentions of a knife at one point, more as a joke, but it's there. Still nothing graphic. Smut will come in the next one, which will also be the last part. Thank you for reading!💕

MDNI 18+

(This man is way too pretty for his own good)

___

Almost three days had passed since Y/N became aware of Sabo’s true identity. And of the real threat he posed to her. He was dangerous, not just because he probably could crush her windpipe with little to no effort.

No, the real reason Sabo was so dangerous was because of his goddamn charm. Always helpful, always making her flustered. Always making her laugh against her will. It was still impossible for her to keep it together when she was near him.

He was playing a sick, sadistic game with her feelings. He wanted to kill her for god sake! And, even though those horrid facts were clear to her, Y/N’s heart still wanted to jump out of her chest every time she saw him.

And that was probably saying more about how messed up she was. Desperately clinging to the first person that ever showed her concern, even though she knew it was fake. Pathetic.

She kept having this one recurring dream. Being alone in a dark room, until the door suddenly opens, and Sabo walks with a smug grin on his face.

He stands behind her, places her wrists behind her back, and then proceeds to let his hands travel all over her body. Cold leather from his gloves caressing her skin as he presses soft kisses down her neck and back.

His movements growing more impatient as he takes a strong grip around her hair, pulling her against him. Then, just before the dream ends, his other hand snakes around her neck, cutting the air from entering her lungs.

And it excites her! Y/N always wakes up feeling hot and tingly after that dream, which means that something must be seriously wrong with her.

The man wants to kill her and she gets excited by the thought of him choking her?! That can’t be normal, it just can’t.

Besides her internal crises that she still had the hots for her future potential murderer, everything else was going as planned. 

After spending a half-day crying over the fact that the handsome, cruel man had tricked her just for his own pleasure, Y/N finally pulled herself together and started planning her escape. She was not willingly staying in this cursed base just to later be dragged to the execution stand.

So she had made a list, things she needed to secure her safety once she left. All the things she had spent the last few days gathering. Things that now were securely kept in a bag in her closet. 

She had also visited the small library more than once, reading every book on wilderness survival she could find. Memorizing pictures of what plants were safe to eat and which ones she should avoid. It wouldn’t exactly be ideal if she ran away from torture and her own murder, just to then die of food poisoning.

Y/N had done all these things, and she was painfully aware of the fact that she had been watched. 

Sabo was always near, following her like some curious cat, trying to figure out what the mouse he was hunting was doing. She was the mouse in this scenario, and it was starting to get on her last nerve. 

He looked amused the entire time too, huge grin on his face, probably getting some twisted sense of pleasure from watching her from afar. It was annoying, and Y/N was pretty sure stalking counted as a crime. But so was trying to overthrow the World Government, so Sabo might just not care that he was breaking the law.

It didn’t matter anyways, she had already gathered everything she needed and her planned escape was happening tomorrow.

She was currently pacing back and forth in her room, trying to figure out if she had forgotten about something. 

Who was she kidding, she most definitely had.

She hadn’t stepped foot outside the castle gates her entire life before two weeks ago, and now she was planning to survive out in the wilderness all by herself. It was a recipe for disaster.

But if the choice was between dying of hypothermia in freedom, or in the hands of the Revolutionary Army and her handsome tormentor, Y/N would choose freezing cold freedom everyday of the week.

Suddenly, her dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Jane Doe, you in there?” An obnoxious, honey-sweet voice could be heard on the other side.

Hate that stupid nickname.

He seriously needed to stop doing this. For the last couple of mornings, at the same time everyday, Sabo had knocked on her door, asking if she was there.

And Y/N never answered, pretending that she wasn’t in the room. He usually stayed outside for a few minutes before he left, which was probably going to be the case today too.

She heard Sabo let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know if you’re there, but I’m coming in.” He stated, like he wasn’t about to invade the last personal space she had at this godforsaken base.

Goddamnit… She had locked the door, right?  

No, this wasn’t the time to take any chances, she needed to hide. Who knew what god awful thing he would do to her if he found her.

Y/N quickly scanned the room for a hiding spot. Under the bed was too obvious, even she knew that. As her eyes landed on the small built-in closet, she heard the doorknob starting to turn. She didn’t have the time to be picky, she needed to hide, now!

Just as she had slid the closet shut, the bedroom door flew open. The small wooden planks of the closet door barely gave her any vision of the room, but the gap was wide enough to see Sabo mindlessly walk in. Not a care in the world, like he belonged in there.

‘He wishes.’ Y/N thought as she rolled her eyes.

Then she noticed that he was looking at the closet, straight at her, with a serious look that spelled nothing but trouble. She could swear that her heart was trying to crack her ribcage open by how hard it was beating.

She put her hands over her mouth, careful to not make a sound, as Sabo’s eyes lingered on her hiding spot for a few more seconds. Then an amused grin spread over his face, before he turned around and started to look around her room.

Dear God, that had been a close call.

“Are you hiding from me, Angel?” Sabo chuckled, bending down to look under the bed.

Since his blatant fake confession he had called her that from time to time. Some new way to play tricks on her mind for sure. And Y/N always berated herself when she heard it, because it made her stupid heart flutter every time.

Seriously, what was wrong with her?

Besides studying up on how to survive on her own, she had read a few books on psychology during her visits to the library. In those she had learned about this thing called *Stockholm Syndrome*, basically when a captive believes they are in love with their capturer. 

And Y/N had let out a sigh of relief when she read that. It explained every warm feeling she had for the man that she was 95% sure wanted to chop her head off in front of a crowd. The other 5%, well… that was the dumb sliver of hope that still lingered in the back of her mind. 

A sliver of hope that she consciously ignored. She wasn’t in her right mind, she had been manipulated by that handsome devil, and the strange thoughts she had about him couldn’t be trusted.

She had to stick to what she knew, and that was that Revolutionaries hated Nobles with a burning passion. At least, that had to be the case when the revolutionary in question was their Second in Command.

The closet walls were starting to feel cramped as she continued to watch Sabo mindlessly prance around her bedroom. He picked up her pillow, brought it to his face and let out a low groan as he took a deep inhale through his nose, making Y/N really question the man’s sanity. Was he trying to memorize her scent in case he had to hunt her down? 

What was he? A goddamn bloodhound or something?

She let out a quiet scoff when he put the pillow back, seeing a satisfied look on his face. She shouldn't have done that.

His eyes zeroed in on her again, a wicked smile spreading over his lips, making Y/N forget how to breathe. 

A shiver went down her spine as she watched Sabo move closer, stopping right outside the closet. He was so close she could feel him towering over her through the door. 

“Are you in here, Angel? Please answer if you are.” 

Dear God, please don’t open it.

Someone was apparently listening to her prayer, since he abruptly turned around, when Y/N was just seconds from passing out due to the lack of air in her lungs.

“Bummer, guess she’s not here then.” Sabo said in a monotone voice, putting his hand to his cheek in a dramatic manner.

He started to walk towards the door. She couldn’t believe it, she was actually going to get through this without being found.

Then, Sabo stopped in the middle of his step, right as he walked by her dresser. He carefully opened the top draw, which wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

“Hmm… I might as well since I’m already here.” He snickered as he took something out and stuffed it in his pocket, quickly leaving the room right after.

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Y/N fell out of the closet and landed on the floor. Too shocked from what she just had witnessed.

“Did- did he just steal my underwear?” She whispered to herself, as she felt a warm flush spread over her face.

Was Sabo a pervert?

Because that would explain sooo much. She laid on the floor, pondering on her theory for a few moments, before she rolled over on her back and let out a weird, nervous laugh.

“Yes, definitely a pervert… Just gonna add that to the list of reasons why he needs to be avoided at all cost.” Y/N concluded, questioning how she had gotten herself in this situation to begin with.

___

So fucking angelic.

There was no other way of describing her. Even though she had actively been avoiding him for the past few days and making him watch her from afar. 

But Sabo could forgive that. She was obviously planning something, and the most optimistic part of himself had convinced him that it was going to be a surprise.

He didn’t know what kind of surprise yet, but he looked forward to it. A little too much in fact.

He had watched his Angel gather all sorts of things, swiping snacks from the pantry when she thought no one was looking. Snatching blankets and other fabrics from the laundry, candles and matches from the storage. 

All things that were needed for a romantic date. 

Sabo still wasn’t sure why she needed all the tools she stole from the supply closet, nor did he understand what she was going to use a tarp for.

But he almost lost his shit yesterday when he saw her sneak a rope into her bag. If his, quite frankly, dirty mind was right and she wanted him to tie her up with it, he might have to marry her on the spot. 

The knife however, that was still a bit concerning… But hey, he was willing to try out whatever she had in mind at least once.

No matter what she was doing, these past few days had convinced him.

She had continued to play their little game, even though the rules had changed a bit. AND, she was planning a romantic surprise for him. That girl understood him so well.

She liked him, maybe just as much as he liked her, if that even was possible.

Sabo knew his obsession was starting to get a little out of hand. Or in all honesty, “a little” would be an understatement. 

He knew that what he was doing wasn’t exactly normal. Watching her go about her day, keeping tabs on where she was, at what time in the morning she was leaving her bedroom and when she usually returned. Putting it in a more brutal way, he was stalking her.

God- that girl brought out dark things in him he wasn’t even aware were there before. Last night he spent at least two hours convincing himself that, sneaking into her room through her window while she was sleeping, wasn’t a good idea. 

It wasn’t, he knew that. No matter how much that girl had messed with his moral compass, he knew that it would be crossing a line.

But he just wanted to hear the sweet voice he had been deprived of hearing for the last few days, even if it was her yelling at him to get out.

That’s why he went to see her this morning, to talk to her. Not about anything special, he just wanted to see her pretty mouth move, until his mind was filled with nothing but the sweet sound of her voice.

Sabo knew she had been in there, observation haki really becoming handy in these kinds of situations. But she hid in her closet when he stepped into her room.

And if she wanted to play Hide and Seek, who was he to deprive her of that fun? 

Plus, he had gotten a little prize for playing along.

Still, things had started to become a little boring for him.

At first, it had been exciting seeing her turn a corner every time he was near. Watching her look over her shoulder to see if he was there. It was twisted- but fuck- just knowing she was constantly thinking about him brought him so much joy.

Even if she was doing it in an attempt to avoid him, Sabo couldn’t be mad about it. She was obviously still trying to muster up the courage to face him after his blatant confession.

It was cute.

He had imagined her confessing her feelings for him so many times at this point. Nervous stutters leaving her mouth, a flustered blush spreading over her face.

God- Just the thought made him want to do unspeakable things to that poor girl. 

And in any normal case, Sabo was nothing but patient. With her however, not so much. 

Like previously stated, watching her had been fun for a while. But he was done with just watching now, he wanted to be with her. Being close to her, talking to her, teasing her. Seeing her smile, laugh or just resting peacefully on his chest.

So, at this moment he was in the library, hiding behind a bookshelf and going over his options on how to best approach her.

Jane Doe was sitting at a table a bit further away, reading a book in peace. Looking absolutely angelic.

Besides the two of them, the rest of the room was empty. And dammit, if there hadn’t been so many unresolved issues that needed to be sorted out first, he would probably pin her to that table right this moment.

Hitching that cute, little skirt up over her hips as he left kisses up and down her gorgeous legs. Teasing her to the brink of insanity until she begged him to touch her. Eating her out like a man starved for food-

Yeah, that was definitely not happening yet.

The second best option was to go over there, trying to make her flustered enough to at least blush. Which shouldn’t be too hard to achieve.

So Sabo did just that, walking over with a statement that was suggestive enough in mind. He stopped right behind her chair, bending down close to her ear, feeling a bit amused when he saw her flinch.

“You know, I had this dream last night- and fuck- your hands felt so soft against my skin. Like an Angel touching my very soul.” He said in a low voice, blowing a puff of hot air against her neck.

It was true, he really dreamt that last night. He had been kinda pissed off when he woke, not wanting the wonderful dream to end.

And he knew how much his little nickname affected her, she was so bad at hiding her true feelings.

“Dear God, why?” The girl asked under her breath, making Sabo chuckle as he walked over to the other side of the table, sitting down across from her.

“Why? Cause you’re cute, and funny, and ignoring me. So you’re obviously my type.” He stated, watching her mindlessly turn to the next page in her book.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” She answered, looking up at him for the first time.

“Perfect.” Sabo sighed, getting completely lost in her eyes.

He barely had the chance to catch the pretty blush that spread over her face, before she turned her head down.

But it was there, he saw it, and it made his chest fill with pride. No matter how hard she tried to ignore him, he could still make her flustered anytime he wanted to.

“Are you bothered by me being here?” He asked, giving her a teasing smile.

“Yes. I want to be alone.” She said curtly in response, not paying him more attention than necessary.

It was selfish, and probably a bit dumb. But Sabo wanted her attention to be on him, and not on some stupid book. What was so interesting about it anyways, for her to not look at him? He was way more interesting-

God, he really needed to seek professional help, didn't he? He was jealous over a fucking book.

“What are you reading anyway?” He scoffed, failing to keep his displeasure in.

“None of your business.” She snapped back, voice deprived of any warmth.

Shit, was she annoyed? That couldn’t be good…

“Why are you so snappy today?” Sabo asked, needing to know if all of it was just in his head.

“I’m not.” She bit out, jaw visibly clenching. 

If it was one thing Sabo took pride in, it was that he was good at reading people. But not this girl apparently, making her an exception in yet another way. 

He must have fucked up big during the last couple of days for her to be this mad with him. Was it the stalking? Had he taken it too far? 

“Yes you are. Did I do something to make you upset? I’ll try to fix it if you tell me.” He said, trying to reach for her hand, but she quickly moved it away.

“I said I’m not. Just drop it.” 

Was this their first fight? 

Sabo might not have been in any real long term relationship before, but he wanted this to work. He needed this to work, because he wasn’t sure if he could recover from being rejected by her. 

He knew that communication was important in any healthy relationship, so her avoiding the topic wasn’t going to cut it.

“I will drop it, if you tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want you to be angry at me and-”

“Can you just back the fuck off and leave me alone?” She said with an irritated tone, looking up at him with fire in her eyes.

Oh fuck, she’s mad mad.

She swore… she actually swore. That was a word Sabo thought he never would hear leave his Angel's beautiful mouth.

Was this about the underwear? He knew she had been hiding in the closet when he “borrowed” them, but he didn’t think she would be this angry about it.

“Is this about what I took from your room? Because I was going to give-”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT THE FUCKING UNDERWEAR!”

“Okay, so I must have done something else then… I'm sorry?” He said, feeling his heart sink to his stomach.

She didn’t say anything more. She just let out a frustrated groan as she slammed the book shut, leaving it on the table and walked away. Leaving him alone with nothing but his own thoughts.

Goddamnit!

He messed up, this was not how he wanted things to go. Had he been wrong the entire time? Had she actually been mad at him, and was that the reason she avoided him to begin with? Had they not just been playing their usual silly game?

Fuck, maybe had he come on too strong three days ago. He did choke her, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that was the reason. But she said she liked it, right?

Sabo was about to go crazy, trying to figure out what he did wrong, when his eyes landed on the green cover of the book she had been reading.

He picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him.

“ *Outdoor Survival for Beginners*- what the actual?” He flipped through the pages, as something clicked in his brain. “Shit-”

Jane Doe was planning on running away…

It all made sense now. Why she avoided him, why she had gathered all those different things. Why she had been so defensive just moments ago.

(Why she hadn’t told him she liked him too.)

She was leaving, and she didn’t want anything left behind. It made sense, he would do the same thing if he knew he was leaving. It was plain cruel to confess your feelings to someone, just to be gone a few days later.

That’s why he had confessed to her. He wasn’t exactly planning on leaving her anytime soon, and he wanted her to know that.

Still, the only thing that didn’t make sense was her reason. Why would she want to run away?

She liked it here, Sabo saw how happy she looked whenever she helped around the base. How well she got along with Koala. How peaceful she had looked that morning when she slept on his chest.

In fact, why was she even hiding her identity to begin with? He hadn’t thought about it more than in passing, his mind usually being too preoccupied with holding his urges back around her.

Something wasn’t right…

“I might have to speed some things up.” Determination took over him.

Her plan was batshit crazy to begin with. She couldn’t even cook, how the fuck was she going to survive alone in the woods? She would die, hungry, freezing and alone, within a couple of days.

Sabo couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone he cared for again. Not after Ace-

No. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that. 

He had a few very urgent house calls to make.

___

Tag list: @nymeriiiia

[storiesfromafan]

Don't Do It - Mattheo Riddle x Reader

A/N: Just a under 1000 word one-shot 😊 And trying to break writers block, haha.

Prompt/s: Write a scene in a library where the characters must whisper or stay silent.

And,

“Dont do it” “But...”

Late afternoon, an hour since classes ended for the day. The library was reasonably busy, due to various groups of students at the tables studying for the next days tests in different classes. It was mostly silent, minus the soft whispers of the students to each other.

Sitting at one of those tables, your boyfriend at your side, you were the only two to have their own table. Which irked a fair amount of students, so every so often you would get dirty looks. Yet neither you or Mattheo cared. Not now, not ever.

You were currently reading over a book for potions. Your boyfriend at your side, chair close to yours. His arm was slung over the back of your chair, his hand playing with the ends of your hair which cascaded down your back. Every now and then Mattheo would lean in, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Making you smile or giggle. That also got some unkind looks from the other females in the room. As your dear boyfriend was one of the few sort after boys of Slytherin and Hogwarts.

While you weren’t really high up on the list of girls the boys wanted to snog. Though that never bothered you. You weren’t ugly or anything, you were quiet pretty. It’s just boys tended to go for the prettier, and sometimes easier girls. And you might ask why Mattheo chose you. You didn't fuss over him, or make goo-goo eyes at him. Sure, you thought he was cute, even had a small crush on him. But you kept a level head. And Mattheo liked that, as well as the challenge of getting you.

After he got you it just got better and better. Mattheo never got tired of you. If anything, he just liked you more, even loved you. And after getting to know the real Mattheo, you began to love him back. Separate, you were smart while he was a troublemaker. Together, you were yin and yang. You managed Mattheo's wild side, while he brought out the fire in you.

This looked to be one of those moments. For your boyfriend's attention wasn't on you so much any more, rather he was shooting daggers at the Golden Trio. To be fair they had been looking at you both, sour looks upon their faces. Not to mention whispering to themselves while looking to you both.

It was starting to get to you too, but you had more patience then Mattheo. You just knew he was itching to say something, or hex them. The way his hand on your back twitched told you his restraint was wavering. When he drew his hand from you, and hands hid under the table before you both, he had made his decision.

“Don't do it" you whispered, eyes still on the book before you.

“But...” he whispered back.

“I said, don't do it" you repeated, turning the page casually.

“It's just one small hex, love" Mattheo tried to reason.

You sighed, “one small hex will lead to detention, love" you mocked. “You can’t afford another detention. Or else no Quidditch for you".

Mattheo sat there silently. No doubt weighing up his options, hex and detention or play Quidditch. With a soft groan Mattheo pouted, slouching down in his chair. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. You found his childishness amusing. He wanted to hex those three so badly. But Quidditch was his escape.

Closing the book, you leant back in your chair with a small stretch. Shooting a dark look to the Golden Trio, you turned to face your boyfriend. Who had gone back to glaring at the three. You leant into him and placed a kiss to his cheek, before moving your lips to his ear.

“It's alright, love. You can get your payback on the Quidditch field" you whispered sweetly in his ear. “Wouldn't it be just dreadful if Potter was knocked out by a bludger, or hit with a Quaffle".

You moved back just enough to watch the dark smirk cross Mattheo's sinful lips. “Yes, love, just dreadful”. He then turned to place a linger kiss to your own cheek, making you laugh a little too loudly.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Grew in my Heart

It's finally done you guys!!!! This is my take on a foster Pony au, loosely based on this idea from @freak-l0rd-certifed. It's currently unedited but I'll post it here anyways, and then cross post an edited version on my ao3. @pepsicurtis asked to be tagged when it was done based on a snippet I posted earlier, so here you go. This is part 1, part 2 is fully written and will be up tomorrow.

***************

The lady on the other side of the room is watching him.

That’s okay though. Ponyboy is used to people watching him. Social workers, foster parents, group home staff, police. Everyone watches him all the time but nobody cares, cares for him or about him, so Ponyboy doesn’t mind this lady joining in. He knows he looks weird, with his sticky out ears and the patchy haircut Mr. Fuller gave him and the bruise around his eye. So he understands why this lady is watching him, and doesn't begrudge her for it.  Besides, she looks like a nice lady. Nice ladies don’t usually watch him. If they do they don’t usually look at him with the kindness glowing in the woman’s shining green eyes.

The lady smiles at him and he ducks back into his book, ears burning. She wasn’t supposed to catch him looking.

When he peeks over the top of his copy of Great Expectation a minute later, she’s still watching him, smiling in a way Ponyboy would call amusement if he didn’t know better. He quickly hides again, cursing himself for drawing notice. It’s never a good thing. Never. Better he stay quiet, stay invisible. Invisible kids didn’t get hurt.

He hopes Ms. Summers will come back soon and take him to wherever he’ll be staying next, if only so that he can leave the waiting room, escape from where this nice lady and her nice family are no doubt waiting for them to bring a brand new baby to adopt. Probably one only a few days old, something sweet and cute and new they could love and pamper. Nice people only ever came to the child services offices to pick up babies. Anyone who came to pick up kids was usually about as nice as the people who dropped them off. 

He goes back to his book. Usually it’s easy to escape into the story where he can pretend to be a knight or a hero or anything but stupid, small, unwanted Ponyboy Hewitt, but he can’t seem to concentrate today. It’s not just because of the nice looking lady with the green eyes who keeps watching him, keeping an eye on him the same way she’s been keeping an eye on the three boys who came in with her. His head is also aching something fierce. That last knock from Mr. Fuller was kind of hard. 

Hard enough Ms.Summers thought he should move again anyway.

“Quit fidgeting, Soda,” an authoritative voice from the other side of the room says, and Ponyboy can’t help but glance over. He tells himself it’s because the speaker was kind of loud, but he knows deep down that’s not the case. It’s not because the boy is loud, it’s because he’s cool. He’s a lot bigger than Pony is, and older too, with wavy brown hair and broad shoulders. He could probably look Mr.Fuller square in the face and never be scared, not ever. “We have to show we’re the perfect family or they won’t let us keep Johnny.”

“Really?” The boy who answers has golden blond hair and rosy cheeks with a dimple high in one corner. Pony never really understood what books meant when they talked about eyes twinkling until the boy had pranced into the office a few minutes before, looking like a prince straight from a fairytale. His eyes aren’t twinkling now though: instead, they’re shining with worry. His shadow, a smaller boy with jet black hair and tan skin, looks the same, eyes wide and terrified in his peaked face. “They can’t do that just ‘cause I’m sittin’ wrong, can they mom?”

He turns anxiously to the nice lady who smiles and smooths down his hair.

“Of course not honey,” she soothes, “we don’t gotta prove we’re perfect to keep Johnny, we just gotta prove we love him. And we do.”

She turns her smile on the dark haired boy who flushes and ducks his head shyly, looking unfathomably pleased. Ponyboy swallows hard and looks away, his own ears reddening. It’s not fair for him to hate the dark haired boy, he knows it isn’t, but it doesn’t matter. In that moment, he kind of hates him anyway. 

The woman’s gentle smile has confirmed what he suspected all along. She’s a nice mom, the kind he’s only ever read about in storybooks. She probably kisses those boys goodnight- even the big one, even if he pretended it wasn’t cool- and probably smells like cinnamon and bakes birthday cakes sometimes, puts bandages on cuts, and never slaps them, not ever. 

He wants Ms. Summers to come back. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to sit here and watch a boy his own age get adopted by the kind of family he wishes he could have more than anything in the world. 

The blonde boy sticks his tongue out at the cool one and makes a fart noise.

“See Darry? They ain’t gonna take Johnny! You’re stupid and wrong!”

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis!” A man Ponyboy assumed must be the nice lady’s husband and the boys’ father boomed, “What have I told you about using that kind of language towards your brother?”

“That it's not how we speak to our family,” the blonde boy, Sodapop, says like he was reading off a teleprompter. Clearly, this was not the first time he’d heard that particular reprimand, “but dad, I was only defending my other brother.”

“Be that as it may,” Mr.Curtis said, “I don’t want to hear that language from you any more.” He sounded stern, but his eyes were still glinting proudly and there was a smile hiding somewhere near the corner of his mouth. Not a scary dad then. A good one.

“Yeah Soda,” the older boy, Darry, grinned, seeming unperturbed by the insult. He was real handsome, Pony thought. If he was Sodapop he’d never call that Darry boy stupid, not ever. “Save that language for socs. Or Two-bit when he’s playin’ poker against Dally.”

Sodapop laughed then, any traces of animosity disappearing, Johnny grinning quietly beside him. 

Ponyboy decides he’s done watching them be happy, and goes to the washroom.

He does his business, standing on tiptoe to reach the sink when he’s done because it’s meant for adults not for kids and there's no footstool. He can’t reach the soap, even when he jumps, so he just settles for rinsing extra long. The paper towel dispenser is also too high to reach so he dries his hands on his pants and goes back to the waiting room. 

“Oh honey, wait,” he doesn’t realize the nice lady is speaking to him until she’s kneeling in front of him, tugging his shirt from where he hadn’t noticed it had gotten twisted and tucked into his pants, pulling it out and smoothing it down nicely, “there you go. All handsome again.”

She smiles, looking like sunshine incarnate, and Ponyboy kind of wants to die.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, sure he must be redder than a tomato, then flees back to his chair on the other side of the waiting room. They’re all watching him now, the nice lady and her nice husband, and the three boys who are now all sitting in a circle on the floor, playing a game of cards. 

He opens Great Expectations to a random page and stares at it hard, trying very hard not to cry. He’s almost seven years old, he’s not a baby anymore. He will not cry just because one lady was nice to him and now her perfect family is staring at him. He won't. 

“Hi!” Suddenly, blonde, beautiful Sodapop is in front of him, grinning like Ponyboy is the best thing he’s ever seen ever, “I’m Soda. Wanna play cards with us?”

He wants to, more than anything, but he knows if he does it’ll just feel worse when they leave and he doesn’t go with them , or when Ms. Summers comes to drag him away to whoever will bother keeping him for the next few weeks, so he can’t.

He shakes his head, unable to actually say no, and Soda deflates, eager grin melting into an unhappy pout, shoulders curling forward, and the twinkle in his eye dimming. He looks like Pony just ruined his whole day with one shake of his head. 

“Ok,” he sighs, dramatic and world weary, and it would seem like an act if his eyes weren’t entirely genuine, “if you change your mind, you can c’mon over anytime. It would be so much more fun with another person.”

He rejoins the other two boys who shoot curious looks Pony’s way, but he ignores them, looking back at his book. He’s not reading though. He can’t. Instead he’s listening to the boys playing cards, wishing more than anything that he could join them.

“I win.” Dark haired Johnny proclaims for the third time and Soda throws down his cards with a dramatic groan, while Darry just laughs. He seems real nice, not like the big boys at the group homes who liked to steal Pony’s books and shove him around. He hadn’t gotten mad at Soda or Johnny even once, not even when they were playing Go Fish and Soda cheated by peeking at his cards. 

“You little shark,” Darry ruffled Johnny's dark hair, the smaller boy flinching a little before leaning into the touch, “how do you keep doin’ that, huh?”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

“You’re cheatin’!” Soda accused.

“Am not!”

“Are too! No one wins as much as you.”

“I’m just good at cards without cheatin’.”

Soda huffed. “You’re lucky you’re my brother now or I’d fight you.”

“I’d win.” Johnny boasts, and suddenly he looks fierce, chin jutting and eyes fiery, like every kid in every home who fought grownups and just ended up beaten down worse. 

“That’s enough,” Darry pulls the two apart, practically picking them each up with one hand, “quit arguin' or I’m putin’ the cards away.”

“No!” Soda throws himself to the ground, arm draped dramatically across his forehead, “I’ll die of boredom!”

“Then sit up and be good,” Darry tells him, and Soda scrambles to do as he’s told. Pony feels his own spine straightening. It’s just because he’s tired, he tells himself.  It has nothing to do with wanting Darry to look at him with the same approval he looks at Soda and Johnny with. He needs to stretch out a bit, that’s all.

“Y’know,” Darry says, disarmingly casual, easily shuffling the cards the way Pony always wanted to but could never manage, the movement too deft for his clumsy fingers, “there's so many more games we could play with four players.” 

If he didn’t know better Pony would swear Darry was looking at him sideways as he said it, grinning conspiratorially like they were sharing a joke. 

“Euchre…gin rummy…spades…signals…”

Pony’s heart jumped. He loved signals. 

It was practically another invitation right? And Soda had said he could join anytime if he changed his mind…surely one game wouldn’t hurt. 

He scoots forward a bit on the chair, considering. 

“Well?” Suddenly Darry- handsome, cool Darry- is grinning right at him, one eyebrow raised, “You in or not?”

And well….that was an actual invitation. From a big boy no less! Usually boys like Darry wanted nothing to do with him.

Pony could feel what was surely a far too eager grin spreading over his face and he nodded, quickly taking a spot on the floor in between Soda and Johnny. Darry’s grin turned triumphant, like he was the one who’d just been invited to play cards by a cool stranger. 

“Nice. What’s your name kiddo?”

“Ponyboy.” He mumbles, bracing himself for laughter that never comes. Instead Darry just nods, starting to deal cards with ease. 

“Tuff name. I’m Darry, and this here’s Johnny.” 

Pony offered a shy smile in response to Johnny’s friendly nod, earlier vitriol forgotten. It wasn’t Johnny’s fault he was lucky. Pony shouldn’t hate him for it. 

“You already met Soda.”

Darry gives Soda a fondly exasperated look, and Pony focuses very hard on the cards being dealt so he won’t have to look at their faces.

Unsure of what to say, he just nods. Luckily, Darry keeps talking.

“Well Ponyboy, I reckon since you just joined you get to pick the game.”

“R-really?”

“Sure.” Darry smiled kindly. Golly he was nice. “We’ll play a few rounds and then switch it up if any of us are getting bored.”

“Can-” Ponyboy hesitated. Darry nods, encouraging him to continue, “can we play signals?”

“Sure. You okay to be on a team with me?”

“Yes,” Pony could hardly believe his luck. Not only were they playing his favourite game, but Darry wanted to be on a team with him!

“Ok,” Soda chirped, “me’n Johnny are going over there so you don’t listen to us pick our signals like cheaters!”

“Soda!” Mr Curtis warned.

“I’m bein’ nice!”

Pony giggled. 

“Ignore him,” Darry advised, scooting over to sit beside him, “I wish I could say he’s just bein’ crazy ‘cause he’s excited, but the truth is he’s always like that. He ain’t really mean though, just has too much energy.”

“I know,” Pony tells him, “I seen mean before. He ain’t it. If he was mean he’d have taken my book or followed me to the bathroom and put my head in the toilet.”

A horrified gasp makes him jump. He’d momentarily forgotten all about sunshiney Mrs.Curtis, but now she’s staring at him in horror, eyes filled with rage. 

What did he do? Did she not want him to be telling her nice golden sons about stuff like that? 

“I-I’m sorry I-” he can feel his ears burning and wishes more than anything he’d stayed on that hard plastic chair where he was safe instead of getting drawn in by the light of the family in front of him. 

“Whoa, hey,” Darry catches him by the arm before he can scramble to his feet, grip not bruising like he’s used to but gentle, reassuring, “where are you going? We haven’t picked a signal yet.”

His smile is so hopeful. Hesitantly, Pony settles back down. 

“Ok.”

“Well?” Darry nudges him gently, carefully. It seems to Ponyboy that someone so big shouldn’t be able to do that and not hurt him just a little bit, but somehow Darry manages it. “What signal do you think we should do?”

Pony glances across the room at where Soda is gesturing exaggeratedly and talking at Johnny a mile a minute.

“Something small,” he decides, “something they won’t notice.”

“Good thinking,” Darry’s approval feels like sitting in the sunshine and eating ice cream and reading a book all at once, “how about…rubbing our noses?”

He demonstrates, rubbing a finger under his nose like he’s scratching an itch and Ponyboy nods, copying the action. 

“Perfect.”

He raises his left hand then. Taps his ear. Waits a few seconds. Taps his ear again.

“What are you doing?” Darry wonders. 

“I have a trick,” Ponyboy informs him.

“Oh?” Darry’s raising a single eyebrow again, looking intrigued. A swell of unearned pride starts in Ponyboy’s chest. 

“Yep,” Pony nods, “they’re watching us right now.”

Darry follows his gaze across the room to where Johnny is watching them out of the corner of his eye, while acting for all the world like he’s still focused on Sodapop. 

“So,” Ponyboy continues. He taps his ear again, “if we do a fake signal now, like we’re practicing, and then do it while we’re playing they’ll call signal and get themselves disqualified and we’ll win.”

“Huh,” Darry reaches up and taps his own ear, “good thinkin’ kid.”

Pony glows.

“We’re ready,” Soda announces a second later, dragging Johnny behind him, “and we have the best signal ever. You’ll never guess it.”

“We’ll see.” Darry challenges, flipping the first card off the deck, and the game begins.

Pony checks his own hand. Two jacks, a two, and a seven. Deciding to go for jacks he passes the two facedown and slides it left to Johnny, picking up the ten Soda placed down for him on the other side.

He passes and trades cards for a few seconds, managing to pick up a third jack on the way. When it’s been long enough it’s not suspicious, he reaches up and taps his ear, trying to make it seem like he’s scratching an itch.

The trick works. 

“Block!” Johnny cries triumphantly, pointing at him and Pony grins, shaking his head. 

“Nope!”

“What?” That’s Sodapop, “We’re out? But-but I’m with Johnny! Johnny always wins!”

“Guess not this time,” Darry grins, raising a hand. It takes a second for Pony to realize he’s reaching out for a high five instead of to cuff him, but when he does he reaches out eagerly, tapping Darry’s palm with his own.

“How did you do that?” Johnny wonders, head tilted in confusion, “I saw you tapping your ear earlier when you were making your signal.”

“It was a trick!” Pony grins. Darry is pleased, and they just won a card game, and no one here has gotten properly mad at him at all. 

Johnny shakes his head, grinning ruefully. “Well it was a good one.”

Soda declared he wanted a rematch, so they played a few more rounds, until Johnny figured out their trick and then both teams had so many fake signals and everyone was too scared to block anyone and could hardly remember their real signals from their fake ones. Darry was just proposing they switch to playing crazy eights when Ms. Summers hurried out of the office, looking harried as usual.

“Oh! Ponyboy,” She looks surprised to see him sitting on the floor, “don’t go botherin’ these nice folks now. I know you’ve had a long day, and I promise I’m workin’ as hard as I can to figure things out so just sit tight and be good a few minutes longer. I just got a few more calls to make and I’ll get you some lunch, alright? C’mon and sit properly now, that’s a good boy.” 

She pulls him to his feet, not roughly exactly, but carelessly, the way he’s used to, and he ducks his head, shoulders curling automatically as she frog marches him back to the plastic chair in the corner of the waiting room she’d parked him in at seven o'clock this morning.

“He ain’t botherin’ us!” Suddenly Soda is on his feet, glaring at Ms. Summers. “We invited him to play. We’re havin’ fun.”

“He’s really no trouble,” Mrs. Curtis smiles, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. Her voice is as sugar sweet as ever but there’s something hard in her eyes nevertheless as she stares Ms. Summers down, “the boys are all havin’ fun playing together and I have no problem keepin’ an eye on him for you. He’s a good boy, like you said.”

She turns the full force of her smile on him, her eyes suddenly all softness, and Ponyboy finds himself wondering what it would be like if somebody looked at him like that every day, like he was something instead of nothing.

“Well, if you’re sure, I suppose that's fine. You be good Pony,” Ms. Summers says, and then she’s gone again, back into the office, back to making phone calls to find someone, anyone, willing to take him in.

Pony stands where she left him, half dragged across the room, lost in the waiting room he’d spend what felt like half his life in.

“That lady,” Soda says, “was a bitch.”

Darry’s eyebrows shoot up, and Soda grins cheekily over his shoulder in a way that says he fully expects a reprimand, but to Ponyboy’s surprise Mr.Curtis just nods slowly.

“Y'know son, I think in this case you might be right.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Mrs. Curtis says, but it’s so half-hearted even Ponyboy can tell. Her eyes are fixed on Ms.Summers’ door, lips pressed into a thin line, and Pony gets the feeling she’s real mad but hiding it real well.

“She don’t know what to do with me,” Pony finds himself defending his social worker. She ain’t mean really, ain't even a bad person. She’s just busy. Too busy to really care. “It ain’t her fault. I cause her a lotta problems.”

“I have a very hard time believing that,” Mrs. Curtis says, “I don’t think you could cause problems if you tried.”

He could. He wasn’t like Curly from the group home, who did everything he possibly could and then some to cause problems, but Pony did create them sometimes. One time he’d burned Mrs.Delvine’s sheets when he was ironing because she hadn’t given him dinner the night before. And he’d put half a shaker of salt in Mr.Fuller’s soup after he gave him this stupid haircut. But he never tried to cause problems for Ms. Summers and he still caused them anyway.

He shrugs. “No one wants me. It’s her job to find someone who’ll put up with me. I can’t blame her for bein’ tired.”

“You’re still a little boy,” Mrs.Curtis shakes her head, and usually Ponyboy hates being called little but he finds he doesn’t mind too much when she says it, “she shouldn’t be takin’ any of her frustrations out on you.”

Pony wants to tell her that his own mother didn’t want to be stuck with him so he can hardly blame his social worker for feeling the same way. He wants to tell her about how tired he is and how much his head hurts and how hungry he is. He wants to tell her a lot of things. He doesn’t.

“Oh honey,” he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he’s wrapped in a warm hug, held protectively against Mrs. Curtis’ chest, his sobs muffled against the stretched collar of her pretty yellow dress. He’s sure he must be getting snot on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, holding him closer when he starts to squirm away and apologize, cooing to him until he settles down, “oh honey.”

She scoops him up then, because she’s a grown up and he’s still pretty small for six years old, and she sets him on her knee and kisses his forehead, and even if it won’t last and he will never feel this again after today, for once he knows what it’s like to be comforted and loved by a mother. 

Golly he’s tired.

“You just have a sleep now,” she pulls his head down to rest against her shoulder, running a gentle hand through his shorn off hair, “you just have a good sleep and don’t worry about a thing.” 

He feels his eyelids drooping. She drops a soft kiss on his forehead, her fingers never ceasing their soothing motions in his hair.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby,” he hears her say as he drifts off, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

He sleeps.

[heavyhitterheaux]

“Don’t pretend you’re still mad at me”

Slight NSFW under the cut

You peeked open the bedroom door to see Jack laying across the bed as his head was resting on his hand as he turned the page in the book that he was reading and you immediately went and laid next to him. He simply glanced down at you before returning his attention back to the book. Seeing this, you quickly snatched the book from his reach and pushed him down onto the bed as you climbed on top of him without him saying a word.

“Smush.” You said as you looked down at him, but all he did was give you a blank stare.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re going to play?” You asked him and he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Hmm, I see.” You whispered as your hand traveled further south and immediately went into his shorts and you began to lightly stroke him. His body couldn’t help but to respond to your touch as you reached down to kiss him. To your surprise, he didn’t kiss you back which instantly made you roll your eyes.

“Don’t pretend you’re still mad at me.” You whispered in his ear.

“But I am mad at you. I told you not to do something, but you went and did it anyway all while putting yourself in harm’s way. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you about that, but it needs to stop.” He told you as he pushed your hand away and tried to sit up which made you push him right back down.

“Y/N…. Move.”

“Fine, I promise that it won’t happen again. And no I'm not moving.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m not fucking playing. I want to keep my wife safe. We can’t do the same things we used to do when we were less known and not really in the public eye. You have to have security every time you leave this house. You got it?”

“I know you’re serious, baby and like I said, I promise that it won’t happen again.” You whispered as you pulled his shorts all the way down along with his boxer briefs.

“Now, are you going to let me make it up to you or not?” You asked as you glided your tongue along the side of his dick starting from the base and going all the way up to the tip and licking up the precum that was leaking out and looking up to see that Jack had an unreadable expression on his face and you looked at him confused.

“Pookie?”

“Switch positions with me.”

“Wait for what?”

“Stop asking questions and do what I said. Get there or I'll put you there myself. Your choice.”

“You won't even believe how wet I just got by hearing you say that.” You told him and all he did in response was rip your thong off your body making you gasp and grazed his fingers across your folds.

“Hmm, now let's find out if that's true.”

“Did you just rip my new thong that I bought YESTERDAY?” You exclaimed and Jack immediately flipped the two of you over and then turned you around placing you face down on the bed.

“I’m the last person that you want to get loud with. Be a good girl for me and I’ll buy you another one.”

“I want three in different colors.”

“Keep talking and I’m not buying you anything. Don't talk unless I tell you to. Now come here.”

[hannahssimblr]

“Is that everything?” Mom’s car idles as I haul my last suitcase out of the boot and onto the pavement. The wind is frigid, slicing through the tunnel of concrete and asphalt at departures, and whipping my clothes about my body like sails.

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s it now.”

“Alright,” she says, and pauses, her face halfway turned, so I see her in profile from my place by the open boot, her sharp cheekbone silhouetted by the sunrays through the open floors of a car park.

“Right, well.”

“Yes. I better go.”

“Thanks for the lift.”

She hesitates, her chest rising and falling with a sharp breath. “I- It’s a shame you have to go,” she says eventually. “But it’s for the best.”

“Yes.”

“Call me when you land.”

“I’ll text.”

“That’s fine.”

I slam the boot shut, and she pulls away from the curb with a roar of her engine. 

“Would all passengers travelling to Berlin on flight DLH-3478 please have your boarding passes and passports ready for boarding? Flight DLH-3478 now boarding at gate 41.” 

“Welcome on board,” says a peppy flight attendant. “Can I help you find your seat?”

“No.”

I shuffle down the aisle to the sounds of sleepy murmuring from the other passengers. A combination of English and German. I find my seat and shove my bag into the overhead compartment. 

As luck would have it, I was randomly assigned a window seat. I squeeze in, my knees bent and nudging the seat in front of me. 

Next to me, an older lady, in her sixties maybe, struggles in. “Oh, goodness’ sake,” she says, in this lilting, Donegal brogue. “These seats weren’t made for tall fellas like you, were they?”

“Suppose not.” I turn my face to stare at the asphalt out the window. 

She settles in, hauling a heavy purse onto her lap, from which she unloads her reading glasses, a book with a WHSmith sticker on the cover, a BLT sandwich and a knitting project, still on the needles. 

I breathe slowly from my nose. 

“Terrible early flight, isn’t it?” She says, wiggling into her seat. 

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“I came all the way from Letterkenny. I had to get a bus at midnight. Imagine that. Took three hours overall. It’s desperate.”

“Mm.”

“Where are you coming from?”

“Clontarf. It’s like, fifteen minutes away.”

“Oh, lucky you!” She pulls down the table, but soon has to fix it back in place when the flight attendant coming to close the overhead lockers asks her to. The handbag is repacked and squeezed under the seat in front. 

She happily talks over the safety announcement. “I’m excited about this,” she whispers as the attendant demonstrates how to blow up the life vest. “I’m visiting my sister. She’s lived over in Berlin for years and years. She’s got a German husband. Gerhard, and I’d say the last time I visited, well, we were trying to figure it out together when I was on the phone with her. Was it eight years? When was… No, it was 2001…”

When the engines roar to life, and the plane begins its slow taxi across the runway, she produces a bag of sweets from her cardigan pocket. “For your ears?” she says. 

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” She rustles the bag, and I look. They’re lemon bonbons. I like those. 

“Yeah, actually, thanks,” I say, and pluck one from the packet. I haven’t yet decided if I can eat it while my stomach is so knotted up and queasy. Maybe I’ll just hold it.

“What’s bringing you to Berlin?” She says, as the plane rounds a wide corner to reveal the expanse of sky over the flat of north Dublin. 

“I’m moving, actually.”

“Oh! Wow, isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“What has you going to Germany?”

“College,” I say, because it’s all I think I can say. Something is happening behind my face. I clench my fist around the lemon bonbon, sticky in my hot palm. 

“All on your own?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well, it’s a big change, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’ll miss your family and friends, won’t you? It’s not far, but you know how these things are. It’s never easy leaving home for the first time.”

“No.”

“You’re very brave.”

A murmuration of starlings cuts through the blue. “Mm. I suppose. I-” I break off as my voice catches. No. I think. Not here. So I blink, hard, but it can’t stop the tears coming, because they’ve been waiting, as though building behind a dam, and now at last, in the most inconvenient location on the planet, something has given. “I… um…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she produces a tissue and I take it, pinching it against the bridge of my nose while tears spill over and snot flows, my teeth bared. I can’t bear to look at her as she fusses over me, her hand stroking my sleeve. I sniff, and it’s loud, and thick, and humiliating. 

“Darling, you’ll be alright, c’mere, now, you can just let it all out.”

“Sorry.”

“No need.”

Like a mother, she murmurs vague, comforting sentiments as the tears pour, and build, and flood my vision until the view of Dublin blurs like wet paint. I sob until I think I’ll retch. The plane speeds along the runway, and lifts, and takes off into the sky, and I leave my little green island behind. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[philomenie]

RIDE THROUGH AN AUTUMN NIGHT

Pairing: Jolly x Alice

CN: angst, grief, break up, mention of cheating, drugs, alcohol, fluff

@reyadawn @nojoyontheburn @dsireland86 @jilliemiw86 @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Exhausted from lack of sleep and jet lag, Jolly stands at the car rental counter at Stockholm airport waiting to finally get the damn keys to his rental car.

The last few hours seem almost surreal to him... he's now been traveling for almost 13 hours, and on top of that he's hardly slept at all, as he left straight after the last concert in L.A., went to the airport, waited there for the next available flight to Stockholm, which fortunately wasn't fully booked and left in less than half an hour.

So now he's in Stockholm, overnighted, exhausted, without luggage, in sweatpants and a hoodie, although at this time of year, unlike in warm California, it can get pretty cold in Stockholm.

The last rays of sunshine on this sunny October day have long since faded and it is already dark.

Jolly needs nothing more than a bed and a good night's sleep, but he has to go through with what he has planned.

He is afraid that once he is asleep about everything, his courage might leave him and he knows that if he retreats now, he will probably never have the courage to do what he wants to do, needs to do.

He is now firmly convinced that he simply MUST do it. He MUST seize this opportunity, this last opportunity, to perhaps have a minimal chance of saving what he so carelessly threw away so long ago. The love and affection of Alice.

The woman who once meant the world to him and whom he first abandoned and then repressed. Repressed, not forgotten, because he could never really forget her completely.

Whether it was a one-night stand, friendship plus or a relationship after Alice, he had unconsciously compared every woman to her, as he had realized in the last few hours on the plane.

He thought long and hard and came to the conclusion that he was a huge fucking asshole who too often just wanted to have fun and live the rock star life to the full.

Whether it was women, partying or the occasional drug, alcohol.... He lived his life to the limit for a long time without showing much consideration for others. Others who should have meant something to him, meant something to him, like Alice....

FUCK, what an idiot he was.

Lately, or rather in the last two or three years, he has slowly realized that this life isn't everything, can't be everything, and he has taken a step back, no more random one-night stands, no more drugs, hardly any alcohol, hardly any parties.

Somehow he's only really grown up now, in his mid-30s, and has realized what's really important in life....

The decisive factor was actually his last failed relationship, when his girlfriend at the time accused him of only being half-hearted about it, of not fully committing to her and the relationship.

This got Jolly thinking six months ago and he realized that his heart was still attached to Alice, as his thoughts kept wandering back to her and the questions of 'what if' and 'what could have been' still dominated his thoughts and feelings.

“Right Mr. Karlsson... here are the papers I need you to sign here and here..... and here are the keys to your hire car!” smiles the young woman behind the counter, snapping Jolly out of his thoughts.

He looks at her, irritated.

“You still have to sign here and here!” she explains kindly a second time and pushes the rental agreement and the insurance contract towards Jolly.

“Um... yes, sorry, I was thinking it!” mumbles Jolly and quickly signs the papers, then has the key handed to him.

“The car is in our parking lot, right here at the airport, you can't miss it if you go straight out through the main exit.... Parking lot number 14!” explains the young woman with a smile, ”Have a nice stay in Stockholm!”

“Hmm, thanks!” nods Jolly and walks off, out of the building, where the cold, crisp fall air rushes towards him.

Jolly stops for a moment and takes a deep breath of the fresh air, closing his eyes briefly. The smell of home runs through his head and a pleasant shiver runs through his body.

Home... what does that actually mean to him now?

Is it California, L.A.?

Or is it rather Sweden....

In the past, he would have said L.A., his new home, without batting an eyelid, but right now he feels a certainty deep inside him that this is his real home, always has been and always will be.

His roots are here and perhaps it is time for him to realize what that means.

Home.... Jolly also knows that it's not just a place, a feeling, but also a person.... His home has always been Alice. With her, he felt safe, loved, understood, accepted just as he is, wasn't questioned, didn't try to change.... He was simply allowed to be himself..... just be....

He could just kick himself in the ass for throwing it away like that... God you asshole, you moron, he thinks to himself angrily!

Jolly quickly finds the car, a silver-colored SUV from Volvo... a Volvo, of course... what else here in Sweden, he thinks to himself and has to grin.

He gets in, then sets the sat nav before driving off.

Fuck, three and a half hours' drive, and it's already past 9 pm... which means he won't be in Jönköping, or rather Husqvarna, a suburb of Jönköping, until half past twelve. His old hometown, where he was born and raised, where he took his first steps in the music business with his first band, where he met and fell in love with Alice.... The place he was all too ready to leave, just as he was all too ready to leave Alice. For a career in America.... For a life to his liking..... an extraordinary life.

But this extraordinary life has been demanding a lot from him lately, almost too much if he is honest with himself.

Sighing, he turns the ignition key in the lock and starts the car, drives out of the parking lot, letting himself be guided by the voice of the navigation system in the dark, starry autumn night.

Jolly's thoughts drift back to the previous day, the concert they played, which was something of a turning point in his life, depending entirely on the outcome of the conversation Jolly wants to try and have.

Nevertheless, he already knows that no matter how the conversation turns out, he won't be the same person he was before.

Too much has happened at once, he's learned things he didn't know, never thought he would, and he's realized how much he's hurt Alice.

God, she won't listen to me anyway, probably won't even let me get a word in edgewise, if she even opens the door....

Jolly becomes uncertain.

Damn it, shouldn't he go to a hotel after all.... NO, at least he has to go to Jönköping today. He can stay in a hotel there.

He doesn't want to go to his parents, especially as they don't even know he's here. He hasn't told anyone that he's coming.

Of his bandmates, he only told Noah because he came to the conversation, if you can call it that, that he had after the concert.

Jolly is sure that Noah has told everyone by now that he had to leave urgently.

He can still remember Noah's words: “If you're going to do it, do it properly, be honest, just go completely naked if you want to have another chance with her!”

And that's exactly what he plans to do!

Kilometer after kilometer passes in the starry night. Jolly has opened the window a crack to feel the fresh, cold air on his skin and to dispel his tiredness.

He takes a few deep breaths in and out.

He reviews what has just happened in his mind's eye.

During the concert, he had already noticed the young woman standing near the barricade with her friends. The first time he consciously looked at her, he messed up the chord, which earned him an irritated look from Noah. Normally, he never messes up.

But he was too perplexed, because at first he really thought he was looking at Alice. About the same height, same figure, even the same hair color, almost exactly the same facial features.... Even the dimples when she laughed were identical.

This woman looked exactly like Alice did when he left her, nine years ago...

Jolly had to keep looking at her, which her friends also noticed and pointed out to her. The cool, disparaging look that he then received from ice-blue eyes made it clear to him that it couldn't be Alice, as Alice has green eyes, but he was familiar with this look and had already received it in the past.

From Maja, Alice's little sister, who is 10 years younger than Alice and hated him with a passion back then. That definitely hasn't changed, in fact it has intensified.

After the concert, he practically stormed off the stage, more or less threw his guitar into Josh's arms and went down to the barricade, but Maja and her friends were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck... he just has to find them and ask for Alice....

He had searched social media for her some time ago, but couldn't find her profile. His internet search revealed that she still lives in Jönköping, Husqvarna. In a typical Swedish house on the edge of a small settlement, just as she always wanted.

A lump then formed in Jolly's throat as he recalled some of the conversations they had.

At the beginning of their relationship, when they were just 20 years old, Alice and he often played a game, What if....? A question and answer game

What if I'm 30 years old... Alice once asked.... He still remembers this question very well, including his answer!

Then we're married and you're touring the world with me because I'm a famous rock star....

Jolly feels that lump in his throat again and angrily punches the steering wheel.... FUCK!!!

God, they were so young and so in love.... Alice was friends with Petter's sister and once happened to be at a band rehearsal in Petter's basement.

They had both fallen head over heels in love with each other. However, it took a while before they finally got together because both were too shy and insecure at first to reveal their feelings to the other.

Heavens, when Jolly thinks about it now, he gets the same weak knees and that tugging in his stomach, in his chest, as he did back then, whenever he thought about Alice or saw her.

He can even smell her scent if he closes his eyes for a moment, which isn't safe considering he's sitting in a car right now and driving. Lavender. Alice has always smelled of lavender.

A flower that even he knows, as his mother has dozens of lavender bushes among her roses in her garden.

Alice was always at his side, at every performance, whenever she could manage it.

They were inseparable.

Until... until he became something like a megalomaniac! In any case, at some point everything was too small, too little, not spectacular enough for him. He wanted more, much more. Fame, success and, stupidly, other women who willingly offered themselves to him.

After every infidelity, he crawled back to Alice in remorse, promising her again and again that it would never happen again. After every drunken binge, he swore to her that he would drink less or nothing more. Because as soon as he got drunk and Alice wasn't with him, he ended up back in bed with some girl anyway.

He still doesn't know why Alice kept taking him back. She seemed to be able to forgive him for all that.

Maybe because they were simply made for each other, she knew that, only he had forgotten it?

FUCK.... Alice was just perfect for him, in every way.

Her silky dark brown hair that shimmered reddish in the sunlight. Her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds, her cherry-red, full lips that he loved to kiss so much, her dimples when she laughed. Her sparkling laugh in general, which always made him weak.

Her delicate hands with the many silver rings, her perfect ears with the piercings. Her swan-like neck, which he loved to cover with kisses.

Her narrow waist, which he loved to embrace, to pull her towards him, to signal to everyone that she was his and only his.

At some point, he began to pull away from her more and more, partly out of a guilty conscience, partly out of selfishness.

Maja more than hated him at this point and showed it openly as soon as they met.

Jolly has to think about her last evening.

Alice must have known back then when he turned up at her door. With his hoodie and baseball cap pulled over his face, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, staring at the floor as he began to speak haltingly.

She was still defending him against everyone and anyone at this point, not letting anyone say a bad word about him, even when he hurt her, unconsciously but also consciously... in the end it was mostly conscious and he didn't care.

That absolute shitty evening when he stood stammering on the porch outside her parents' house and told her that he was leaving and that he was therefore ending their relationship, he knew for a fact that he was breaking her heart.

She plunged into an absolute hole of despair and he hardly cared because he told himself that it was the right thing to do, that it was time to move on, to get to know new things, to start a new life....

HE decided what Alice wanted didn't count for anything at that point.

Jolly angrily hits the steering wheel again.

Damn selfish idiot, he growls again and again.

Maja then appeared at some point and shouted at him because she had heard her sister crying. The girl hit him and shouted that he should fuck off, preferably die and never come back, just leave her sister alone.

Jolly was almost right, he could practically escape from the situation, which he did without looking back once.

He blocked out Alice's sobs until he drove away with screeching tires.

FUCK..... Now he remembers this little detail, just before he started talking.... Alice said we need to talk.... Jolly thought she meant their relationship, that it's at ground zero right now, disastrous, messy, destructive!

Now he knows she wanted to talk about something else... FUCK!!!!

If only he had listened to her once....

If only he'd let her talk first....

However, he's not sure if that would have made much difference at the time.

FUCK, he really is the biggest scum.…

Jolly has to stop because he feels sick and dizzy, so he pulls into a parking bay on the side of the road, switches off the engine and pulls open the driver's door, sucking the crisp autumn air into his lungs.

Slowly, the dizziness and nausea get better.

Damn... he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for a long time....

Just as he is about to let the navigation system search for a gas station or a snack bar, his cell phone buzzes.

It's Noah.

“Arrived safely?” he wants to know immediately.

“Hmm,” grumbles Jolly in agreement.

“So, are you in Jönköping yet?” Noah continues.

“Not yet... I've still got a good two hours' drive ahead of me!” gulps Jolly.

“Fuck... have you slept at all?” Noah asks anxiously.

“Some.....” Jolly qualifies, stifling a yawn.

“Are you still going to see her today?” Noah asks.

“Honestly... no idea right now!” growls Jolly, ”Since I've been on the road, I've been thinking about everything, what mistakes I've made, how much I've hurt her.... But also how much I loved her... how much I still love her...... Noah, she was THE one... and I broke everything, threw everything away.... How am I supposed to just show up at her door in the middle of the night after almost 10 years and beg for forgiveness? Beg her for forgiveness with the idiotic hope that she'll take me back?”

“You can only try, what she does then is not in your power to influence!” Noah explains seriously, ”Like I said, get naked! If she really means as much to you as you said, then this is your only chance!”

“I know..... but I'm scared shitless right now!” whispers Jolly harshly, ”So much depends on it.”

“Exactly, that's why!” hisses Noah, ”Jesus, Jolly, since when are you such a doubter? You're not a coward! Face up to everything, admit your mistakes and hope for the best, that's all you can do!”

“Yes, I am a coward... I was and I probably still am.....” mumbles Jolly, embarrassed.

“Then face it!” Noah declares seriously, ”Just do it!”

“Hmm” grumbles Jolly.

“Listen, let me know when you've arrived and what you want to do then. Maybe you'll have a bit more clarity by then!” Noah explains gently, ‘And one thing you shouldn't forget, despite everything, is what Maja's girlfriend blurted out!’ he then grins.

“Hmm” nods Jolly, a little more hopefully.

“So! Stand your ground and don't run away!” Noah reiterates to Jolly before hanging up.

Jolly stares thoughtfully at the display of his cell phone.... The words of Maja's girlfriend still clear in his ear.

FUCK, he has to try, Noah is right, so he sits back down, closes the car door and drives off again.

However, he makes a little detour to the nearest gas station and stocks up on various snacks and drinks, as his blood sugar feels off the charts.

After he has consumed most of the snacks and 2 cans of Coke, he feels better again. Not just physically, but mentally too, so he is determined to go through with it.

Preferably tonight!

The longer he drives towards Jönköping, towards Alice, the stronger his longing for her becomes. God, it just has to work, he tells himself again and again.

Alice is his home, always has been and always will be....

Maja will strangle him, as she has sworn to do, if he dares to go to Alice, but he accepts that.

Maja was so angry, mainly because her friends, especially Selma, had blabbed and only didn't go after him because Noah suddenly appeared next to him.

Jolly has to grin at this memory.

It was pure coincidence that he met Maja and her friends after the concert after all.

After he and the others had freshened up, they actually wanted to get to their minibus in the venue's private parking lot.

On the way there, they had to pass a group of concertgoers, separated by barricades.

Jolly's gaze automatically wandered over the people and got stuck on Maja, or more precisely, her rear view.

Jolly was struck by lightning at first and couldn't move, but then he gave himself a jolt and approached her, talking to her over the barricade.

Her friends' eyes almost popped out of their heads, but they stared at him and Maja open-mouthed and speechless.

It felt like an eternity before Maja turned to him with a cool, hateful look.

“What do you want?!” her voice couldn't have been icier.

“Talk?!” he shrugged his shoulder awkwardly in response.

“What would I want to talk to YOU about!” came the reply.

“Maja... please, I know it's been a long time... but when I saw you earlier.... Damn you look so damn much like her.....” he swallowed.

“You realize that now, after fuckin almost 10 years?! Fucking asshole! You could have contacted her long ago if you'd really wanted to! Suddenly you're getting sentimental? Remembering the good old days? Or are you horny? Don't you have a slut to fuck right now?” she snapped at him.

Her friends were more speechless than ever, and other concert-goers listened with interest.

“Maja... please.... can we discuss this in peace and quiet? In a different setting?” he tried to reassure her.

“Forget it, Karlsson, you're scum and I'm certainly not going to listen to you!” was her reply.

Until Selma regained her composure and blurted out a few things.

“FUCK.... Then HE really is HIM?!” she stammered.

“Shut up!” growled Maja.

Jolly couldn't quite follow that.

“I thought you were joking when you said you knew the fuckin guitarist from fuckin Bad Omens.... FUCK!” blurted out one of the other women.

“Yes... I 'know' that asshole... unfortunately!” Maja hissed.

“But is HE really HIM then?” Selma followed up.

“Shut up!” growled Maja.

“FUCK... you know very well that Alice still loves him, if that's who he is! Hasn't forgotten him. As well as.....” Selma blurted out, interrupted by Maja.

“Shut your mouth, Selma! I won't say it again!” Maja grabbed Selma's arm angrily.

“Alice still loves me?!” whispered Jolly tonelessly, more to himself than to the others. This information turned his whole world upside down.

Selma, who had broken away from Maja, nods, “Yes, she does... She hasn't had a steady relationship for years, dates now and then that have all come to nothing.... Which isn't just because of Liam!”

“Liam?” Jolly furrowed his brow in irritation.

“That's enough... it's none of his business! He ran off back then and Selma, I swear I'll wring your neck if you make another sound!” Maja hissed at her friend.

“Who's Liam?” Jolly wanted to know.

“As I see it, your son!” Selma nodded and Maja tried to lunge at her, which Jolly just managed to prevent with a firm grip.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!” Maja yelled out all her anger and frustration, ”AND LEAVE ALICE ALONE!”

“Maja... is that right?” gulped Jolly, thunderstruck.

But Maja preferred icy silence.

“Yes... Alice has a son and he must be yours!” Selma nodded instead.

Jolly felt like he might faint in an instant, so he clung to the barricade. Panting and gasping for air, he stood there, “Really?” he croaked with a pleading look at Maja, who didn't give him a glance, instead stabbing Selma with her eyes.

“Maja... is that true?” he repeated pleadingly.

“He looks a lot like you... your hair color, your eyes....” Selma enumerated, ”The right age. She hasn't told anyone who the father is, but..... well, when you see him, you'll just know!”

“Maja....?” Jolly choked out questioningly.

“Luckily he doesn't have your nature...” Maja hissed almost inaudibly, but Jolly had heard and his legs threatened to buckle.

At that moment, Noah joined them and was able to observe Jolly's strange behavior from a distance.

Worried, he put a hand on his back, “Are you OK, Jolly?”

“No... actually, nothing's ok....” Jolly choked out, ”I have to go, Noah!”

“What, where? Why?” Noah wanted to know immediately.

“To Sweden... She's still in Sweden, isn't she?” Jolly asked and Selma nodded.

“Yes, she's still alive, or rather back in Jönköping!” Selma confirmed.

“If you care about her, you leave her alone!” Maja suddenly declared icily, ”She's been through hell because of you, even after.... Now it looks like she's made up with her life and everything. Don't you dare destroy that again by showing up, turning everything upside down and then disappearing again! Besides, it's also about Liam, a child!”

“I.... Maja... I need to talk to her!” gulped Jolly.

“Yes, YOU have to talk to her, all right. Once again, it doesn't matter what she needs!” snapped Maja.

“Maja, she still loves him.... She told me at the summer party when Nils broke up with me. She told me about her great love that she could never forget and how hard it is to let go, even though you don't really want to....” Selma explained gently.

Jolly felt sick.... FUCK, he really destroyed Alice back then.

Noah looked from one to the other uncomprehendingly, “Alice, Liam... kid?? What are we talking about here?”

“I guess I have a son!” gulped Jolly and Noah went no less pale than Jolly already was.

“WHAT???” he gasped tonelessly.

“Yeah, with Alice... I didn't know about anything... had absolutely no idea, she never told me.....” gulped Jolly.

“Yes, I wonder why!” Maja added spitefully.

“The Alice you told me about? The one you still love?” Noah then wanted to know, which made the women present sit up and take notice.

“Yes, that Alice.....” nodded Jolly.

“Then go to yourself, get your shit in order, get naked and try to win her back!” Noah nodded seriously.

Jolly looked at him questioningly, but Noah just gave him a shove, “GO, for fuck's sake, what are you waiting for?”

So he ran off, took a cab to the airport and is now here, in the middle of the night on a lonely road in Sweden on a clear fall night. Ready to take his fate into his own hands and win back the love of his life.

Monotonously, kilometer after kilometer goes by. Jolly goes through countless scenarios in his mind, what he should say to her, how he should say it.

FUCK, he feels like a schoolboy trying to slip a love letter to his crush. Just as excited, just as insecure.

As the lights of Jönköping slowly illuminate the darkness, Jolly's heart beats faster, he feels sick again and starts to sweat.

He nervously brushes his hair out of his face.

What should he do now? Go straight to her or check into a hotel and wait until tomorrow to attack her?

Jolly is getting more and more nervous.

Swearing, he pulls up again with squealing tires. He has to get to her, otherwise he's afraid of losing his courage.

The small settlement on the outskirts of Jönköping already seems to be sleeping peacefully, with only a few illuminated windows to be seen.

The SUV slowly rolls along the road until Jolly reaches his destination.

Alice's house.

His heart is pounding in his throat and he feels like he is going to faint again when he stops and takes the ignition key out of the lock.

He has to inhale and exhale deeply for a moment.

A glimmer of light can be seen from a window at the side. Alice must still be awake.....

She's always been a night owl, he remembers, and a smile steals across his face.

With trembling legs, he walks through the small garden gate and along the gravel path that winds its way to the house, climbing the steps to the porch that nestles against the front door.

Should I really, it races through his head......

He almost lets his hand drop again, but then he raises it again and knocks hard on the front door.

It's so loud, he himself is startled and looks around because a dog has started barking somewhere nearby, so he doesn't even notice that the hall light has gone on and keys are being turned in the door lock with a rustle.

Only when the door opens a crack does he startle, staring into bright green eyes that widen in shock.

Before Alice can slam the door shut again, at least that's what Jolly assumes, he pushes his foot between the door and the hinge and presses his hand against the door.

“Please.... We need to talk!” he chokes out, looking at her pleadingly.

Alice is so shocked that she can't get a sound out, nods automatically, undoes the chain in front of the door and then opens it completely.

As she stands there in front of him, Jolly's knees go weak and a stupid grin appears on his face. God, how could he have left her.

A whole world of emotions assaults him.

Love, desire, longing, security, home.... He feels all of this at the same time, just at the sight of her and the delicate scent she exudes. Lavender.

Alice is still unable to make a sound, so she just stands there in her leggings, oversized sweatshirt, thick woolen socks and messy hair bun, from which countless strands have stolen and are winding around her delicate face.

Jolly would have liked to tuck her behind her ear, but he doesn't dare move a finger, let alone touch her.

So he just chokes out, “We need to talk!” again.

Alice must have recovered from her initial shock. She clears her throat, wraps her arms around her torso, pushes her chin forward slightly and narrows her eyes.

She's even more enchanting than usual when she's angry, it occurs to Jolly as he looks at her like that and his desire for her continues to grow.

“About what?!” she growls softly at him.

“About just about everything....” sighs Jolly softly, ”Please.... Just let me finish, then when you say go, I'll go. I promise!”

Alice eyes him coolly, but then nods.

So Jolly plucks up all his courage, puts everything into a balance and begins to apologize to her, revealing his true feelings, what a fucking idiot he has been. In the end, he begs her forgiveness, asks for a second chance.

“I love you, Alice. I always have and I always will. I was just so stupid that it took me so long to realize that..... and then I had to work up the courage to go to you!” he mumbles.

“I understand if you send me away because I hurt you so much..... tore you to pieces.... All I can say is how sorry I am!” he swallows.

Alice looks at him for a long time. You can see how hard she is working, how much she is struggling with herself. But then she straightens her shoulders.

“It's too late, Joakim!” she whispers harshly and Jolly flinches as if he's been hit, but he was actually expecting this answer, ”No one has ever hurt me like you before and I'll never let myself be hurt like you did again! So please go!”

The question about Liam is on the tip of Jolly's tongue, but he remains silent. He understands that he has no right to ask Alice about his son. He has no right to anything. He gambled it all away a long time ago.

“I see...” he just nods, ”If I could, I'd turn back time... but I can't... I'd like to shake myself, beat myself up, to come to my senses.... I'm so incredibly sorry, Alice. And I know you won't believe me when I tell you I love you......”

Jolly can't move, but then he tears himself away, turns and storms out of the house, leaps down the porch steps and hurries to his SUV.

With trembling fingers, he unlocks the lock, but before he can open the car door, he is overcome by a wave of nausea and has to lean against the car, retching and gasping for breath.

It all seems to be too much for his body, his legs buckle and Jolly has to kneel down, leaning his head against the car door.

He feels hot tears running down his cheeks, so he presses his face against the cool car door.

In a surge of despair, he bangs his head against it a few times, just to stop feeling this despair, letting suppressed sobs escape his throat.

FUCK... this must be exactly how Alice felt back then.....

“YOU FUCKING STUPID IDIOT!” it suddenly hisses next to him and Jolly blinks upwards in confusion, where Alice stands like an angry avenging angel, staring down at him, trembling and equally crying.

“WHY???” she continues to hiss and punches him on the shoulder.

Jolly tries to get to his feet and stands up, trembling.

“TELL ME WHY??” Alice continues to cry, pounding his broad chest with her fists. Jolly just lets it happen.

“WHY ONLY NOW??? WHY ARE YOU ONLY COMING NOW? WHY DID YOU GO TO .....” Alice gasps.

“I... can't tell you... because I was a stupid asshole... scared of what we had.... Felt constricted..... I'm sorry.... I'm so incredibly sorry!” he mumbles.

Alice continues to lash out at him, taking all her frustration out on him until she stands sobbing in front of him, “And why do I still love you......” she breathes so softly that Jolly thinks he has misheard her at first.

Alice looks him in the eye with a teary gaze, “Why?”

Jolly can't help but pull her into his arms and hold her close. Alice clings to him, sobbing.

“I'm so incredibly sorry, Älskade!” he swallows.

“I can't do this again.....” sobs Alice.

“I know, min Älskling, I know...” whispers Jolly tenderly, stroking her hair, ”If I hadn't realized that, I wouldn't have come...... I came to stay with you!”

Startled, Alice looks at him, scrutinizing him closely, but all she can see in his gaze is love and the promise he has just made to her.

“I don't know.... I....” she swallows.

“We don't have to rush into anything!” nods Jolly, ”I'll stay here for now... let's just start over. Get to know each other again.”

“But there's something else I need to tell you.....” swallows Alice.

“I've known that for a while... And the thing I'm most sorry about is that I wasn't there for you!” Jolly nods seriously.

“Where from?” asks Alice, stunned, and Jolly tells her that he met Maja and her friends in LA.

“And Selma's still alive?” Alice has to ask.

“Well, at least she was when I stormed off!” smiles Jolly and kisses Alice's forehead.

“Maja will kill her and me!” Alice then nods.

“Why you?” Jolly wants to know.

Alice buries her nose in Jolly's broad chest, breathes in his tart scent, which lulls her and gives her the security she has missed for so long, “Because I'm so stupid and say yes....” she whispers.

“You're saying yes? You really want to try again with me?” Jolly's heart seems to burst.

Alice nods, “Yes... because I still love you, I've missed you so damn much and this feels so good, so right......”

She lifts her head, “But if you.....”

“No!” Jolly interrupts her immediately, leaning in and kissing her tenderly, ”No, I won't!”

The gust of wind that catches them both and pushes them closer together is like a sealing of this promise.......

[marsgalaxias]

I have made the horrible mistake of finishing a book. there are no more theories to ponder, lore to wonder, endings to muse, simply only emptiness that all is well. it was pleasant, to waltz into this new universe, to root for the heroes, to watch character after character sacrifice themselves for the good of all. and now it’s over. and I am left with nothing but “the end.” how awful it is to have the whole story within your hands. to have your questions answered. there is nothing more.

[hkblack]

Let me tell you a story...

It starts in the summer of 2021. Honestly it probably starts a little before that. 2020 through 2022 ish are a bit hazy because there was a lot of sitting around at home doing nothing.

Somewhere in that haziness my partner goes “wait, you haven’t watched this Good Omens show yet? And you haven’t read the book? … oh no. You should do that.”

And immediately after finishing the show I knew I was in trouble. I knew if I read the book I would absolutely fall down the fandom rabbit hole and be trapped, and so for a very long while, I didn’t. Until I did.

And then in August 2021, I wandered into fandom. I had been lurking. Seeing what AO3 had to offer. Crawling back onto Tumblr. But I had a story idea, and I needed a beta reader. And the last time I was in fandom, LiveJournal was still a thing, so I didn’t know where to go.

I found out about Discord, and I signed up for a thousand servers, it felt like, and in one server I bravely started sticking my neck out.

There was talk about someone writing a Human AU on a farm, and farm animals in general, and I chimed in about goat-scaping. And then I made the joke that would seal my fate.

“I don’t know if I could write a kid fic, but you know. I could write a kid (goat) fic.”

It was meant to be a short, sweet, meet-cute. Professor Aziraphale has a goat from the goat scaping team break into his office. Based loosely on a campus experience where a member of the goat-scaping team at a campus I was on tried (and failed) to get into a classroom once.

A simple formula. Maybe a 4+1? 4 times a goat broke into Professor Aziraphale Fell’s office, and one time it didn’t.

I even found the first beta reading request. First chapter done, I’ve got four more planned. Rated T.

Ha.

I started writing Chapter 5, you know, the final chapter, and realized—there’s more to this story. These characters have life, and story, and who doesn’t want to see more goats? Also, had I truly fulfilled the “kid-fic” portion of my joke?

I think we can all agree that no, no I hadn’t.

So, I kept writing. But I also found my stride in other Discord Servers and in Fandom in general. And in the winter of 2021, I went on a beta-reading blitz for the Gift Exchange happening in the Do It With Style Events Discord server. I read something like 14? 15? stories in a very short amount of time and in doing so, got to know some really amazing people and began to carve out my spot in the community.

From this server I found folks with lived goat-experience who were willing to share and advise me. From this server I found beta readers and brit pickers willing to cheer me on and guide my writing to the best version it could be. I found friends and joy and I found community.

And if you look very carefully through the pages of Bleating Hearts, I think that at its heart, past the puns, past the obvious fast burn love story, and the crooked Luce Matin and demanding James Starr, and even beyond the goats, it’s a story about finding your place in a community. While we talk about Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship, so many people have asked me about Anathema and Crowley at the chicken coop (we only got to see Newt and Aziraphale in the bedroom). The most commented on scene is Anathema pulling the car over and getting Aziraphale’s consent to go to Tracy’s for lunch.

It's a story with goats, romance, and drama. But it’s a story about community.

I have thanked the people most involved a thousand times over, and I will always take an excuse to thank them again. @ambrasue, my ride or die beta reader. She is who to thank for the sentences making sense. And for me not beating you all over the head with the word “Gently.” HolRose, for the Brit-Picking and second pair of eyes when Ambra and I had gone cross-eyed, and always, always, always having a kind comment ready to go for every chapter update. @writingordinaryrealities, for all things Goats, and for not laughing at me when we met in person and I lost my cool over real life goats.

@mirjam-writes! Mirjam made me my first ever fanart for one of my fanfics! And so many more of you have followed suit and I never know what to say when I see it but I always make a noise and run excitedly to my partner and flap my hands and show him his heart and he always gets the dumbest smile and goes, “I love when people make you goat fanart. You are adorable when you’re verklempt.”

But also, the DIWS and Good Omens community. Every single person who shouted at one of my snippets when I needed a boost and shared a bit of what I was proud of. Every single person who tagged me in a goat video—you all have tagged me in so many goat videos. I watch each and every one of them. Every single person who got excited when I said I was finally ready to start posting.

Because you see, that support, that community, led me to pay it forward. At TIC4 in 2023, I had just finished my panel on beta reading and was feeling a bit amped up. I saw in the chat that someone wanted to talk Slow Show and Human Aus and, I don’t know if y’all know this, but uh, I’m a big fan of human AUs. And so I hopped into the break out room and met J.

J is a lovely human who has been fandoming since the OG Star Trek days with Kirk and Spock. She had found a physical copy of Slow Show and just needed to talk to someone, anyone about it. She wasn’t sure what the Archive was, she was still learning her way around digital fandom, and I instantly wanted to reach out and help her find community and joy the way I had when I got started in the fandom. So, I sat down and I gave her my favorites. I told her how to find me on socials. We connected on Discord. We sent each other long letters back and forth on Discord sharing our joys and frustrations and our love of GO and talking about all sorts of other things. And it has been amazing listening to her stories and getting to know her.

Unbeknownst to me, J had reached out to @brunheiffer to ask for a physical copy of Bleating Hearts. Now—I’m all for fandom in the physical space, but it’s never even crossed my mind to do more than something printed out at my home printer, hastily hole punched, and shoved into a binder so I could sneak fanfiction reading time during 5th period math class after I was done with my worksheets many, many, many moons ago. When brunheiffer reached out and asked if they could print and bind a copy for me—I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think. I think I keysmashed? I keysmashed after I made my partner read the message out loud. And then I went and looked through tumblr and all of brunheiffer’s excellent work. And then I went, “Do I say yes?” and he went “um YES OF COURSE YOU SAY YES. WHAT”

So, I said yes.

I also said yes to progress shots and got to watch some of the coolest work ever. I didn’t know how books…ya know…booked. Witchcraft probably? I’m still convinced there is witchcraft involved, but there is also an incredible amount of skill, and time, and patience, and hard work, and love that is put into making a book a book. And learning what I did, and watching the process, and seeing the care that brunheiffer put into each of the three (THREE!) sets of books that were made (one for me, one for brunheiffer, one for J), was just stunning.

Do you know, J reached out to me and apologized for not asking me first and asked me if it was okay that she had reached out and asked if brunheiffer would do this for her? Why would I ever be against something so heartfelt and kind?

I cried.

I legitimately sat in my office and cried.

When people ask me how I write the way I do, or why I write, or anything along those lines. I have the same answer. “I write for myself.”

Oh sure, I started to write Bleating Hearts to make Ambra laugh and/or have feelings, but at the end of the day, when I write, it is because I need to get the bed time stories I tell myself at night, the day dreams while sitting on the bus, out of my head and somewhere else—so that a new movie can play. And when I write, I write knowing that I will come back to that story. That I will forget the little pieces (because I have a pretty shit memory tbh), and I’ll be able to go back, and wrap myself up in the comfort of the story I have written, and be surprised by some of the little details I left as presents for myself. And be excited. And be happy. And watch my favorite movie again.

So every time I see someone make art of this story, or talk about how they love the story, or how happy it made them, or the feelings it inspired, or how reading goats made them want to write their own fanfiction—I get, well, like my partner says, “verklempt.” I don’t know what to do with that feeling, other than to just be overwhelmed that somehow something I made to entertain me has brought other people so much joy. Has helped people connect and find community.

What a powerful and beautiful thing that is.

Not everything I write is going to be Bleati—y'all I am just going to call it Goats. Calling it Bleating Hearts feels so weird. It’s Goats. That’s the name of the story. That’s my name for the story.

Anyway.

Not everything is going to be Goats. I’ve got some wips in the hopper right now that are um…lots of angst and heavy spice. Not everything I write is going to be liked by everyone. Some of it may even offend you.

But knowing that this one thing has inspired you all to the point that I’ve been gifted the ability to hold my story in my hand?

That’s powerful.

And it only exists because this community, this Good Omens community, has come together and chosen joy.

There’s some bad apples out there, there are in every bunch. But I am liberal with my block button and have been blessed to find a welcoming and warm community that creates some amazing and incredible art—whether that’s like actual like digital or pen to paper art, or the fiction you write, or the podfics you record, or the meta analysis you write, or the playlists or the animatics or the beta reading or the shouting unhinged support or the role playing or the plushies, or the books you bind—this community is full of incredibly creative and amazing people.

So thanks, y’all, for letting me part of your community, and enjoying my silly little goat fic. And thank you brunheiffer and J for this amazing gift.

If you haven’t read it, or just want to reread it, you can read Bleating Hearts (GOATS) on Archive of Our Own.

All my love,

HK

(I am the most cringe sap on main right now. No regurts)

[butchford]

Bitches will be like "damn am I overexaggerating how bad the current landscape is?" And then the top posts in a character tag that's not even involved will be "this post contains filtered tags [ship]"

[possum-quesadilla]

Blucifer sketch dump bc this is the most motivated I’ve felt for drawing in months lol

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I just looked at the price on the back of a book I’ve had for a bit over a decade and it was four. fucking. dollars. Just four with no taxes. No extra 97cents or something before taxes. Just a round number that you would add taxes to.

I googled the price of a new edition and it was almost thirteen! Not an even thirteen, it was like 12.96 or something. Close enough that it’s basically thirteen but if you’re adding multiple items together to try and get the price on a purchase with more items it would add more confusion.

[oldtvandcomics]

Book Shout-outs for Pride Month #3:

French Edition.

Should I have read more French books since last autumn? .... yes, shut up. Next year, it will be a bigger list.

Nous Sommes La Poussière by Plume D. Serves: Magic realism where some people for whatever reason attract an electromagnetic dust cloud around them, and it is an in-universe disability. Clearly an allegory for autism, I have NEVER seen my life as a disabled person reflected this well anywhere.

Le Garçon et la Ville Qui Ne Souriait Plus by David Bry: Alternate history end 19th century, where the French society has been divided by laws expelling everyone deemed "different" to the island in the middle of Paris - disabled people, fat people, gay people. Romain, a young aristocrat, has spent the entire summer sneaking there at night while he was coming to terms with his own gayness, but he has to take action when he accidentally uncovers a conspiracy to flood the island - with the people still on there. It's a children's book, but quite a sweet read.