#thank u me of the past for having the forethought that i would be home very late today and sketching this out this morning

[hyolks]

give it back

[passable-talent]

OMG is it too much to ask for a continuation of the last person's ask request ? Like I loved it so much but was heartbroken at the angst ending. Could you like do where the reader has to adjust to him being there and they work through there feelings them eventually falling hard for zuko as they did for Lee and Zuko tries his best to make things right them and whether or not it works is up to you I'm down for a surprise will they/won't they?

I’m going to... scream

someone, you my friend, loved my fic SO MUCH you want a continuation??????

I owe u my life thank you so much 💕💕💕💕

side bar I watched The Western Air Temple to get the true 👌🏻👌🏻 canon compliance of this ask and I am like, not okay. i would give my life for Zuko and the episode is SUCH a rollercoaster and a masterpiece of the group’s collective opinions of Zuko, I could go off but I’m not gonna. mostly? 18 y/o me cannot handle the resurgence of 6 y/o me that just crushes on Zuko like crazy

this is gonna be another long one because I actually really like this storyline? also ya boi is a sucker for angst

continuation of this post

You’d stalked back into the temple, finding an empty room to sulk in, anger and sadness and betrayal and all sorts of upset wrestling in your heart. You thumped your back against the wall, scowling, and reached up to wipe a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, forcefully, as though you were angry at it.

Maybe you were.

Zuko had betrayed you. He had been given the choice, and he chose poorly. He had no excuse for that. You could’ve even understood if he’d regretted it immediately, but he hadn’t! He had stayed in the fire nation for months!

What had changed? What had rocked his life so deeply that he’d come to the avatar? Was he being honest, or was it a trap? You wouldn’t put a trap past him, not after all of his past treachery.

Though you didn’t want to see him, you did want to know what was going on, in case there was a fight and you needed to intervene. It was as good a time as ever, you decided, to practice seismic senses. You weren’t quite good at it yet, and not nearly as good as Toph, but you’d been learning.

Pushing off of the wall with a motion still angry, you took a step forward and kneeled, settling both knees onto the floor. Already you closed your eyes, regulating your breathing as though deep in meditation.

The touch of your fingertips to the stone floor was light, at first, feathery, but slowly you moved your hands forward and laid the palm down. You stilled, your body not moving even a bit, and slowly a scene began to take form. It wasn’t a picture, and you couldn’t see it exactly, it was like the way that your fingers could find your nose even when your eyes were closed. You just knew, as though the ground itself was an extension of your body.

You could sense Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph, standing together and facing Zuko. You couldn’t quite understand his movements, but you knew they were frantic, whereas Team Avatar stood ready in stances prepared to fight.

The image went fuzzy as your heartbeat sped up, and by the time you could get it to clear up again enough to make sense of it, Zuko was gone. You stood up, and walked back out to the rest of the group, fists clenched at your side.

“So you kicked him out, huh?”

“We had to!” Katara said, a snarl in her voice. “He’s-“

“Don’t defend yourself to me,” you interrupted, “I probably would’ve done something worse.” There was a pause, in which you followed their lead to grab your sleeping bundle from Appa’s saddle. “And even if I hadn’t, my voice will only confuse our decision. I’m not even sure what I think of him, but I know I’m angry.”

“We can’t trust him,” Katara said, and you dropped your bundle so you could use it as a seat.

“I kind of have a confession to make,” Aang said, and the night only got weirder from there.

When Toph came back, you weren’t surprised she’d been burnt. And you weren’t surprised when Combustion Man resurfaced, too. You had the forethought to throw a rock shield from rubble in front of your friends, but very quickly Aang and Katara’s attempts at fighting back made the five of you realize you needed to find an even better place to hide.

What did surprise you was that Zuko swooped in, to try to stop the assassin. Despite everything about yourself, despite everything he’d done, you felt cold dread grip your heart when he was thrown back over the edge of the temple, and may have even tried to save him if it weren’t for Combustion Man’s constant explosions.

But Sokka did what Sokka did best, and soon the assassin was gone, leaving behind a clear view of the fire prince climbing a vine back up to safety.

“Oh. Zuko made it,” you said, your tone halfway between relief and annoyance.

His speech to Aang was everything you expected to hear, and it seemed as though he’d earned Aang’s forgiveness. Your heart still racing, you listened, to Aang’s words. You didn’t dare look at Zuko, and so stood beside Katara, staring at the ground by her feet. You tried to let anger be your shield, because Zuko’s presence made you remember all to easily how much you cared for him, even if it was a different part of him, under a different name.

“Now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love.” The sentence made you lift your head, and for the first time you let your gaze slide to Zuko. You caught his eye, just for a moment, as though the sentence had had the same effect on him. But he brought his focus back to Aang, to be told that he needed permission from all members of Team Avatar. Toph and Sokka’s answers were affirmative, and you knew yours would be the same- but that didn’t mean that you had to go easy on him.

“Y/N?” Aang asked, and you raised your chin, though still your gaze was on the floor, unfolding your arms from your chest.

“There’s good in him,” you started, and you raised your gaze finally to Aang. “I’ve seen it. And if you think that this is proof that he can let it-“ you slid your eyes to Zuko, a soft glare making up your expression. “-guide his actions,” you looked back to Aang with a small nod, “then I’m okay with it.” You didn’t dare look back at Zuko, you didn’t want to know his reaction. But mostly, you didn’t want to see his face, remind yourself how much you still cared for him.

It was easy, you decided as you laid in bed that night, to hate him when he wasn’t in front of you. It was easy to be angry and talk of how you’d hurt him when you couldn’t see him, hear his voice. But now that he was here, and you’d watched him fight, you knew that that wasn’t the truth of it. You still cared for him. Lee hadn’t been washed away in Ba Sing Se- the aspects of Zuko’s personality that Lee was made of were still there, and very much alive. You saw it in the small smile he’d let himself crack when you glanced back as Team Avatar walked away from him.

The boy you’d almost fallen in love with was very much alive. And though he’d betrayed you, he’d hurt you, he’d betrayed and hurt the people you cared about- it didn’t stop you from wanting to love him again.

“Y/N?” came Zuko’s voice from just outside your door, and your first response was to earthbend a slab from the floor that sealed the door shut. “I know you’re angry, please, just let me in so that I can talk. You don’t need to listen, or look at me, I just want to say things to you. I need to.” Despite yourself, you wanted to hear what he had to say, and so you uncurled just enough to pull your slab through the door, though you didn’t move it far enough to allow him to enter the room.

Reaching down to press your palm to the floor, you used seismic sense to make out that he’d sat down on the other side of the slab.

“Thank you,” were his first words, and you assumed that he meant for moving the slab. You were wrong. “-for saying that about me. You, I feel like I’ve hurt you the most. I know that that’s selfish, or- or ignorant, because I’ve done terrible things to Aang and Sokka and Katara, but-“ he sighed, and you heard what you thought was an impact between palm and forehead.

“But when I did those things to them, I didn’t care about them. I cared about you.” Though you couldn’t see him, through your little wall of rock, his words made you turn, rolling over to face where his body was.

“I cared about you a lot, and still I let Azula-“ once again he cut himself off. “You deserve a proper explanation, Y/N, even if it isn’t a good one.”

“My mom always treated me differently than my sister, I know that. My father did too, but in a different way. He didn’t- he wanted nothing to do with me. I was his eldest, his son, and he didn’t seem to like me at all. He was the one that gave me my scar, you know.” His next sentence was lost on you as you sat up, anger hot as lightning coursing through your veins.

You knew that scar had come from a firebender. But between Ba Sing Se and this moment, you’d been so caught up in your anger that you never stopped to realize that Zuko was a firebender too, and so a firebender must’ve hurt another firebender, and who would’ve done that? His father, the fire lord? If Aang didn’t take him down, you decided that you would.

“I spent years blindly searching for the avatar, not letting anything get in my way. I was so cruel. To Katara and Sokka, to Toph and Aang, I was so cruel because I just wanted to go home. I wanted to earn my honor, but moreso I just wanted to show my father that I could do what he asked.” You heard a tremor in his voice.

“And I was so blind, it made me ignore how important my uncle was to me. I see it now- and I think back on his face right after I betrayed him, and I just feel so ashamed.” He paused, leveling his voice before he said his next words.

“I think about how you looked. When Azula said that you were my enemy, too. I know it’s no excuse, but she’s so manipulative, she’s such a-“ There was quiet as he let out a breath.

“I don’t regret spending my time in Ba Sing Se with you. But I do regret how it ended. You have every reason to be angry with me, you’re right to be. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You thought, for a moment, that he was done, but still he didn’t move.

“When I went back to the fire nation, I fell back in with an old girlfriend I’d had before I was banished. But it felt wrong. It felt like- like I was just with her to try to regain my life from before, but I wasn’t that person anymore. I wrote her a letter, but I didn’t know what to say, and...” Zuko paused, and sighed. You wondered, with a bit of bitterness, why he would tell you about a girlfriend he’d had between the last time the two of you saw each other. Wasn’t he just giving you more reason to be angry with him?

“I’ll never have enough words to tell you how sorry I am. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance from you. I deserve nothing but hatred and- and anger and everything you can throw at me, because I asked for it when I turned against you.” You stared at your slab, and wondered how long it would be before your eyes bore holes straight through it.

“Just... just know that I’m sorry, and I- I’m never going to treat you like that again.” He took a deep breath, as though meditating, or summoning his courage. “Know that I’ve thought about you almost every day. About that time you spilled tea on me and tried to pay for a replacement shirt, and-“ he tapered off, and let out the rest of his breath. “You’re probably asleep.” He was silent, for a moment, as he reached up to press his hand onto the rock keeping him from you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” You heard him stand up and walk away.

You remembered the night he was talking about. Mushi- Iroh- had let you stay past when the shop closed, before you worked there. Zuko had sat down across from you and closed your textbook whenever you tried to read, and finally you’d gotten frustrated and put it away. You’d tried to put your feet up, but instead kneed the table, and sent his cup rolling, spilling his tea onto his shirt.

Looking back on it, it made sense why the heat of the tea didn’t bother him. He was a firebender, after all.

The part that he’d failed to mention tonight was how he’d walked to a back room to get another shirt, as you followed, insisting on paying for the ‘damages’. But the words had caught in your throat when he took off his shirt because wow, and that was all you could really fathom yourself to think, and you’d stuttered, and he’d just laughed before putting another shirt on.

You wondered, now, if things would have turned out differently if you had kissed him that night, instead of pulling away. Had you called him boyfriend, would he have been so quick to betray you?

Laying down slowly, you reached out to press your palm to the ground again. It took you a moment to get a clear seismic understanding, as your heart was pounding and your breath shaking, but you could sense him in the room he’d taken up as his own. You pulled your hand to your chest, losing the image, and closed your eyes.

Your throat burned the next morning.

ok this bitch got LONG AS FUCK so stay tuned for a pt 3 probably tomorrow

edit: | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 |

-🦌 Roe

[guessmonsta]

In The Woods Somewhere (Fae! Akaashi x Fem! Reader) (NSFW)

Hi cuties :’) Do I even need to apologize for being inactive at this point? Lmao. I’ll never return to my peak in 2016/2017, haha. Anyway, this was a request from my friend that I realized I never posted. Oops. I hope u like it I luv yall sm!!!!

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The first time she saw him it was May. Dewdrops danced on Silver Dollars and Lamb’s-ear, and Jasmine and Lily of the Valley were braided into her hair. She spent her days in May collecting flowers and herbs for her mother, ever since spring came, her mother had been bedridden, and worrying __ mad. She knew the herbs would help substantially, but she also knew the roses and carnations would heal a different side of her mother. On her way down to the carnation field just beyond the woods that swallowed her quaint little property, she saw him. She knew who he was, rather what he was before she had the opportunity to approach him. If she hadn’t the knowledge very little would have kept her from running to him. Her mother always warned her of his kind, they were dangerous, they would rip out your womb and starve you of food- but the way his gunmetal eyes stared into hers the moment he noticed her walk past him was enough to have her in his trance. He sat inside a faerie ring, several small birds clung to his sides, and a Barn Owl perched on his arm. If it weren’t for her mother on her mind, perhaps she would have been bolder- instead, she just broke a moment of eye contact and walked right past him, choosing to ignore his existence, and he ignored hers. 

The second time she saw him, she wasn’t so timid. Spore prints were her intention that day, or at least that’s what she told her mother, and while toadstools grew at random in the clearing in her backyard, she couldn’t help but be attracted to the faerie ring in which she had seen him the first time. 

Much to her disappointment, the face she had stumbled across weeks ago wasn’t present. It would’ve been easier for her to acknowledge him if he was already there, but she figured she would have to take measures into her own hands. With little to no forethought, she held her breath, closed her eyes, then stepped right into the vacant ring in the clearing. 

Before she even had the opportunity to open her eyes, she felt her body being vaulted backwards. She shrieked, then groaned as her back hit the ground beneath her. Upon opening her eyes, she saw him, the Fae with the beautiful eyes staring down at her. She couldn’t help but smirk at the slightest- lore always said that the Fae folk would do anything to make you miserable, but it almost seemed like this one was looking out for her. Before she could say anything to him, he disappeared just as fast as he came. She picked herself back up, sighed, then returned back home. 

Then she didn’t see him for a while. While she knew it was for the best, a part of her ached for a missed opportunity. There could’ve been so much adventure at hand if only she had acknowledged him, even if it meant giving up her womb. All she could do was fantasize about what could’ve been at night before she went to bed. It was all she ever did. 

Until she woke up to a pile of feathers on her windowsill. They were kept still by a small pebble from her garden, but the array was beautiful. A Blue Jay, a Crow, a Cardinal, and a Goldfinch. Accepting gifts from the Fae was strictly prohibited, yet she grabbed the feathers, and sprinted towards the faerie ring in which she had paid her visits to one too many times. 

She didn’t sit inside the ring, instead, just kneeling on the outside with the feathers cradled gently in her hands. 

“Hello?” She called out. If anyone caught her, she would look terribly foolish talking to herself while holding a handful of feathers. “This gift is beautiful, but my mother would tell me I cannot accept it.” 

She waited a moment, then heard the soft tap of footsteps on the grass behind her. Spinning around, she saw him, in all of his glory. He really was a beautiful thing, and that’s why she reckoned she thought of him so much. There was something about his aura, and those beautiful eyes, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw him. 

“Hello.” 

“Are you a fool?” He replied, towering over her as he stood across her. 

“Maybe.” She replied. “Or maybe I just want to be your friend.” 

“That would make you a fool.” Uncharacteristic for a faerie, he sat down next to her, and handed her another feather- a Great Horned Owl. 

“Thank you.” She smiled, and she immediately watched his stoic expression switch to a frown. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that.” 

“I wasn’t aware that this was a test.” __ shrugged, twisting the Owl feather between her fingers. “So, what do I owe you?” 

The Faerie looked at her, baffled, and cocked an eyebrow. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it, merely shaking his head in response. 

“You wanting to involve yourself with the Fae takes the fun out of all of this, you do know that, correct?” He sighed, and __ merely giggled. 

“Am I making your job difficult?” 

“No, no, just interesting.” 

“Well, you were the one who pushed me from the ring and brought me a gift. From my side, it feels like you’re the one who’s seeking me out.”

“Perhaps I’m looking for companionship.” __ felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes locked with his. Before she thought they were a light shade of bluish gray, but under the canopy of leaves, they looked a deep green. Maybe his eyes were magic, too. 

“My name is __.” __ smiled, taking a feather and reaching it out to brush it gently against the bridge of his nose, causing him to jump back in confusion. “And yes, that is my real name. __ __. Use it at your will.” 

“Are you that bored?” A slight chuckle passed the lips of the Fae as he shook his head. “Or are you that trusting?” 

“Perhaps a little mix of both…” She trailed off, searching for the name of the Fae across from her. He blinked at her slowly, the mechanics of his mind working out whether or not he could trust her with his own name or not. She smiled softly as she watched his thought process, fiddling with the feather in her hands as she did. 

“My name is Akaashi Keiji.” He smiled softly. “You may call me Keiji.” 

“Keiji.” The name felt like honey butter against her lips and she smiled, bidding him farewell using his lovely name, Keiji, and skipping back to her house. 

The friendship that blossomed between the two was unusual, yet __ had somehow managed to keep it a secret from her mother. It wasn’t difficult to sneak around, especially since her poor mother had been bedridden for quite some time. It had gotten to the point where it was worrying, her rendezvous with her companion cut short, and missed as the weeks progressed. Keiji still left small gifts on her windowsill, almost as a beacon for her to visit him, yet she felt overwhelming guilt at the thought of her leaving her poor mother alone in a terrible time. Between praying to every deity for her mother's safety, and attempts to nurse her mother back to health, she found it hard to think about anything else besides her mother, even if the word “Keiji” found itself tumbling off her lips at random times throughout the day. 

Then, as his name fell from her lips once as she brewed her mother a chamomile tea, she realized her situation. Keiji, he was a Faerie, he could heal her mother. The adrenaline of this realization ran through her body like lightning, and as soon as she handed her mother her tea and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, she left through the front door and sprinted through the woods. 

Keiji must have felt her energy, because as soon as she stumbled towards the ring, he was already there. She looked like a decent mess, the hem of her skirt and her knees covered in grass stains from tripping over herself. Keiji looked at her in surprise and what he could only describe as his form of excitement. 

“Oh, Keiji, Keiji.” She gasped, attempting to catch her breath. “Can you please help me?” 

“You’re aware everything comes at a cost, correct?” He muttered, offering her a seat next to him on the grass. She sat down quickly, then grabbed his hands in hers, causing him to flinch at the slightest. 

“Keiji, please, my mother…” __ still struggled to catch her breath, a mix between sprinting and her adrenaline. “My mother has been gravely ill for quite awhile and I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it much longer.” 

“And you would like me to…” 

“Please make her better. I will do absolutely anything in return.” 

“Ah, health.” Keiji sighed deeply and cocked his head. “It isn’t impossible for me. When your mother wakes up tomorrow morning, she will be in perfect health. Memories of her illness will be faded and distant and she will be up and active just as she was before she was ill.”  

“Are you serious?” __ responded, almost giddy, a smile cracking on her face. 

“Yes. It’s very possible. However, you are aware that there is a heavy price to pay.” 

“God, Keiji, I gave you my name when we first met, I don’t care about prices.” 

“Well, this one might be different for you.” He blinked slowly, catching __’s gaze. “In return for your mothers health, your mortality belongs to me.” 

“Woah.” __ inhaled sharply, then exhaled deeply. “So, does that mean that I have to die, you own me until I die or-” 

“It means you’ll have to live in limbo between your realm and mine for the rest of my eternity.” 

“Immortality doesn’t seem so bad.” 

“You might eat your words.” 

“Do I still get to see my mother?” 

“Yes, until you gradually outlive her then-” 

“Well I would’ve outlived her eventually.” 

“You’re insatiable, woman.” Keiji sighed, rubbing his temples. “Is there seriously nothing wrong with giving away your precious human life to a Fae?” 

“Not when it’s you, Keiji.” 

__ watched his eyes roll into the back of his head, then watched his chest rise and fall heavily. Soft hands fell onto hers, and her eyes met his. 

“You’re completely and utterly confident in your decision?” Keiji asked once more, almost insecure about their transaction. 

“Yes, Keiji. My mother means everything to me.” __ nodded. 

“Enough to give yourself away to me?” 

“Well-” __ paused, giving his gentle hands a squeeze, “This is just a win win situation for me.” 

She watched as Keiji’s frown twisted into a silhouette of a smile, and his hands crept up her arms, up to her shoulders, and he pushed her gently back against the soft grass beneath them. 

“In all my years I’ve never met somebody quite as insane as you, my dear __ __.” 

“And yet here we are. I’m the one you chose to give my mortality up to you.” 

“Yes I did.” 

Keiji leaned down and ever so gently kissed the tip of her nose, her cupid's bow, then her lips. __ all but eagerly kissed back, the softness of his lips something completely foreign to her. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine as she kissed him back, her hands running up his back to bury themselves in a mess of wavy black hair. 

“You’re so enticing.” Keiji muttered against her lips. “I was waiting for this.” 

“You didn’t have to wait for me to come crying over my mother to have me.” __ giggled. “You’ve had me all along.” 

A guttural groan came from the back of Keiji’s through as he kissed her again, deeper and rougher than the first time. 

“A human has never made me feel this way before.” 

“And I take that as an honor.” 

__ buried her nose in the crook of Keiji’s neck, kissing his collarbone then ever so gently nipping her teeth against his copper flesh. She felt him sigh against her cheek as she kissed his collarbone rougher, then trailing a mix of gentle and bruising kisses up the column of his neck. 

“If I’m going to be yours forever…” __ cradled Keiji’s face in her hands as she kissed him on the lips once again, “You’re going to have to show me how worth it it’ll be.” 

Keiji wasted no time in crashing his lips into hers, kissing her so gently, so feverishly it brought chills up her spine. Her arms snaked around his neck again, kissing him deeper, deeper, feeling every pulse in her body beat for him. Heaven knows she’s wanted this, it was even more enticing now that it was magically bound. She felt his cold hands run under the hem of her dress, and wordlessly she let him slip it off of her body and over her head- she wanted to be exposed for him. It was silly, foolish, throwing herself at a man like this, it was something completely foreign to her, yet lit a spark inside of her core the more she thought about it. The embarrassment and inevitable realization was sure to come later, but in the meantime, as Keiji began to place cold, gentle kisses below her navel, the only thing she could focus on was him. His fingers danced over the sculpt of her hip bones, and eventually, the softness of her inner thighs. 

“Dare I ask for your consent?” He muttered, leaving __ giggling. 

“After I sell my soul to you?” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be respectful.” Keiji  hummed, his hands running up her body again and leaving goosebumps in their wake. __ sat in silence, unaware of what his next move would be. Her heart was in her throat as Keiji got closer and closer in between her legs, and he could tell. When he reached the seam of her bloomers he chuckled deeply, and placed a deep, open mouth kiss against the fabric. She all but jumped, the feeling wasn’t foreign ate her own hand, but being caught engaging in these activities with the boys in her village was taboo, and she was far from being experienced. She wondered if Keiji wordlessly knew, or assumed she knew what she was doing. Nevertheless, Keiji gently slipped her bloomers off  of shaking legs, and wasn’t late to rubbing at her slit. 

“Oh!” She jumped, completely surprised. She hadn’t anticipated him finding her sweet spot so quick, let alone touching her at all. Keiji paused for a minute to unbutton his thin shirt, and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. His skin was the most beautiful shade of tan, she noticed, her eyes running up and down his torso and noticing the veins that webbed around his sculpted arms. Next were his trousers, he was expressionless as he did this, and it would’ve been frightening if she hadn’t previously learned that he majored in stoicism. When his member popped out of his boxers, she let out a tiny exhale. It seemed perfect, pretty even, and definitely wasn’t lacking. She moved to throw her bra off of her, she found no shame now in being completely exposed to him. Their bond was eternal from here. And as if it were on instinct, she opened her legs more for him, which was greeted with more rubbing against her clit. 

“Oh god, Keiji.” She threw her head back and whimpered. Her eyes blurred for a moment as she focused on the full moon above her, and all the stars that danced around it. She found it harder and harder to keep herself propped up on her elbows, her high chasing her the more he moved against her. 

Her arms collapsed underneath her, and the moment her back hit the grass, the first heavy wave of her orgasm hit her, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her as it did. His name was all she could moan as she rode out her high, strangled breaths leaving her mouth afterwards. It hit her like a train, the pure and unholy satisfaction of pleasure wasn’t foriegn to her, but in this circumstance, it left her dripping onto the grass below them. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, he ran one finger up her slit, which caused her to jolt from her after high sensitivity. Keiji merely smirked, leaning over her body to catch her lips in a kiss once again. 

“Kei-” She stammered against his lips, trying to prop herself back up on her arms to look up at the gorgeous Fae who she was enamored with. “Keiji.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“Oh god, Keiji, fuck me.” 

There was a foreign thrill of being exposed in nature the way her and Keiji were at the moment. She could feel her heartbeat all throughout her body as Keiji positioned himself above her, his lips on her chest as he got a feel for her body. An owl hooted off in the distance, crickets chirped and other gentle sounds of nature were all that she could hear besides Keiji’s gentle breaths. In one slow, fluid movement, he slid himself inside of her to the hilt. She almost felt paralized, nothing else dared cross her mind besides Keiji. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she kissed him. The numb pain was worth it, anything was worth being close to him. 

“You’re doing so well.” His voice was still so monotonous, it spawned butterflies in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment Keiji pulled out and slammed into her again, only ammitting a small, gentle squeak from her. Keiji began to rut into her at an even pace, leaving her wordless and tingling on the earth below. She let out another pathetic moan, wishing she could do more for him from her submissive position. 

“You’re so fucking-” She stopped to sigh, then grabbed at the roots of the grass underneath her. “You’re so fucking etheral, Keiji.”

Keiji chuckled in response, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper the more he moved. The feeling of being exposed to him and mother nature sent chills across her bare body. She wished she could do more for him, make him feel better too, but her had her locked in this pathetic position, all she could do was spread her legs further apart and let him fuck her senselessly. 

And he did. The soft pants that came from his parted lips made her feel even more full than before, and the more she thought about the way he stretched her, the wetter she felt herself become. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keiji at all, him making a comment on how she was such a good girl. Her senses were clouded by chills and sex and butterflies in her stomach. 

“You’re doing so good.” Keiji hummed, yet his monotonous voice sounded a little more strangled. “I’m gonna come.” 

“Come inside me.” She muttered, not even thinking. “I’m yours.” 

Moments later, with a gentle groan, his thrusts came to a halt, and spilled himself inside of her. She felt fuller, fuller than before, and warm. She sighed softly, holding him against her with his cock buried deep inside of her still. 

“Am I worth it for forever?” She asked, her fingers running through his hair as she kissed his forehead gently. “Do you really want me forever?” 

“Yes.” Keiji hummed, kissing her back. “And I wish you found me sooner.”

[onlyfansdotcomslashshawnmendes]

Sapphire and Moonlight

Bad boy Shawn, because ‘Señorita’ is still stuck in my head // Shawn Mendes smut // NSFW // Word Count: 6,531 // ShawnxOC // I didn’t name her though so insert whoever in your mind // Just...tons of flirting and bantering and sexy sex, a little angst // please excuse any typos I’m awful at catching them, also sorry tumblr wrecks my formatting. 

It was late July, the time of the year when the only reprieve from the heat falls just around midnight and only lasts just till sunrise. The time of the year when humidity clung to the air like a lingering emotion. And he had the audacity to walk in wearing a leather jacket. The sun was just coming up, and even as he slipped inside, shrugging off that jacket in the cool AC of the diner, his skin already glistened with summer. He was tan, dark eyes, and dark curls, slightly damp that threatened to fall in his face any moment. As he sat down at one of the booths, putting his jacket on the seat beside him, he shifted slightly, straightening out his clothes a bit. It was almost as if he’d been riding a while and had just remembered that he may not look as presentable as he’d thought. About that time the waitress came over to his table, introducing herself and giving him a menu. It was also about the time that another waitress in the diner caught his eye. He wasn’t exactly subtle either, his eyes locked on her starting at her face and slowly moving down her body before moving back up it. As he made it back up to her face again, she glanced at him, clearly feeling someone staring at her. Once they made eye contact, he smiled at her, just still watching her even as she turned back to the table who’s order she was taking. He didn’t stop, not until his waitress came back, at which point he gave a sort of rushed, ‘oh uh sorry’ and he would have glanced at the menu, before back up at her, “I’ll take a coffee, black, and a number four, thank you,” he said it with a smile, handing the menu back to her, before turning his face back to that other waitress. He shifted slightly, leaning up as if he might get up and go speak to her. As she closed her notepad though, slipping it and her pen back in her apron she turned to face him, clearly intending to walk past his table. Immediately his face lit up, and he poised himself to speak to her, “Hi I’m Sh-” but she leaned down, cutting him off, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she said as she walked back toward the kitchen. For a moment he was silent, eyes wide, answering a soft ‘No I…’ under his breath before just sitting back in his booth and kind of sighing to himself. When he thought about it, he probably did seem creepy, but he leaned back into the seat then, running a hand through his curls to push them away from his face. It wasn’t much longer before his food came, and he began eating slowly, just trying to relax now and shake the tension from the night off of his shoulders. When he saw her again, he gave her a soft smile now, almost apologetic, or he did his best to make his face seem that way. Once he was finished with his meal, he did wait until she was standing at the front counter before going up to pay for the meal, “Hey,” he said softly, before he really gave her a chance to notice him. “Oh,” she said looking up from what she was doing to lock eyes with him. For a split second he could see it in her eyes, the fact that she was moments away from telling him off. “I’m sorry,” he said before she could, “If I was being creepy earlier.” “You were,” she added in before defended himself, and he could only smile at her, “I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been driving all night, and I’m sleep deprived, not that that’s an excuse or anything but,” again she chimed in, “It’s not,” she clarified. He just laughed again, “I’m Shawn,” he said, “I just…wanted to say hi, and ask your name.” As she pointed to her name tag on her uniform she looked back up at him, “Were you going to tell me I was too pretty not to be smiling too?” she asked but he bit his lip, shaking his head, “No, I promise not,” She seemed to believe that though, and held out her hand, “You’re ready to pay?” she asked, glancing down at the written receipt he was holding. “Oh, yeah I was,” he said handing it over and just letting her key it in the register. “If you’re not getting back on the road, there’s a motel just down the road, keep going straight you can’t miss it,” she said with a soft smile as they exchanged the difference of his bill and tip. “If you’re really that exhausted,” she added. But he gave her a little nod, “Thank you, that’s really kind, maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” he said as he took a step back but she just kind of shrugged at him and gave him a sort of ‘shoo’ motion with her hand. He did opt to take her advice, slipping his leather jacket back on just for the ride, and heading down to the motel to get himself a room. Almost as soon as he walked into the room he was sliding out of that jacket and falling on the bed. It hadn’t been an exaggeration, he had been driving most of the night, and he was exhausted. So soon enough he was entirely out, just sleeping away most of the day. By the time he woke up the sun was already beginning to set, hitting his window just right to shine a single streak of light threw his blinds and directly onto his face. It was what woke him, making him squint and groan, reflecting the metal on his earrings and casting rainbows on the walls of the motel room. He sat up inhaling deeply and cursing softly under his breath as he stretched the stiffness out of his body. Slowly he pulled himself off of the bed, and stretched completely, taking a moment to slip off his shoes and looking around before shuffling to the bathroom. It was a slow process of waking up and forcing himself to take a shower, but once he stepped out of the shower he did feel much better. He walked back into the main area of the room, standing in front of the bed as he dried his hair off, just letting the drops of water roll down his tan body. Once his hair was sufficiently dried he tossed the towel aside and walked back to his discarded jeans, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. A sigh left his mouth as he noted the lack of notifications. Quickly he swiped to his messages and scrolled to the thread he was looking for a response to, just sending another text message that read ‘??? I said I’m here, when am I picking it up?’ tossing his phone back onto the bed. Before he could make it back to his carry on bag though he heard his phone vibrate. He did instantly turn back to it and swipe up only to pause at the notification text that just said ‘when he ready for u to pick it up. relax ur being paid arent u?’ “Oh fuck you, you’re not paying me to wait around,” he said out loud to the empty room, his jaw clenching as he threw his phone back onto the bed and walked back to his travel bag. It was small but had a couple days of clothes in it, just enough his saddle bags would hold it. As he reached in though he pushed aside the gun, and the ammo just to toss some clothes onto the bed piece by piece before zipping his bag. Then he turned back to the bed and pulled on a pair of underwear before pulling on his jeans and then finally a button up shirt. He didn’t bother to respond to that text, hoping that it might send the sense that he was currently irritated with his ‘employers’. It was about that point he did glance at the time, taking note of the fact his stomach was growling, dinner time. He slipped his shoes back on, grabbing his wallet and his motorcycle keys along with his phone and room key, pocketing them. He did have the forethought to take that carry on bag and slip it into the closet of the room before heading out. Pulling his jacket on as he walked to his motorcycle the idea occurred to him to hit that same diner from the morning for dinner. But he did think better of it, and he decided that he would find somewhere else for the evening meal. It didn’t take him much driving to find another place, this one more like a grill though. It was a small town, there wasn’t really that many fast food places, and nothing was terribly far apart. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why this was the town he’d been sent to in the first place. What kind of Kingpin stayed in a place like this? He turned off his motorcycle in the gravel parking lot of that grill, getting off and locking the stand in place as he took his keys and headed inside. It was a hole in the wall kind of thing compared to some of the places he saw in bigger cities but it was homey. Part of the inside felt like a pub, a place for eating and drinking and part of it was clearly for dancing and talking. There was an outdoor patio area, lit up with lights where people were also dancing and talking. Music filled the inside and outside of the place as he just walked up to the bar, sitting on one of the stools and ordering a beer and a roadhouse kind of burger. While he waited on the food he did make a mental note to spend a couple of extra hours in the gym back home to knock of all of the calories he was racking up on this run. Dinner was fairly uneventful as he ate it, finishing his beer and ordering one more before taking the time to go ahead and leave money on the counter. With his second beer in hand though he stood up, venturing out to the patio, not really looking for anything or anyone, maybe more to get fresh air. But that was when he saw her, the waitress from earlier. A smile painted his lips and despite the fact he thought better of it, he did walk up to her, “Hi,” he said smiling in a coy way, “Let me buy you a drink to make up for being a creep earlier,” When she looked up at him, she pursed her lips, cocking her hip and resting one hand on it. “I have a drink,” she said holding it up, “Are you suddenly blind now?” she asked. “Let me buy you another,” he bargained. “So you can spike it? I’m good,” she clarified. Once again all he could do was laugh at her, looking down and smiling while he did, “You’re really determined to make sure I don’t shoot my shot, aren’t you?” he asked. But she nodded seriously, “Of course I am, boys like you are dangerous,” she said matter-of-factly. “Boys like me?” he asked furrowing a brow, “What is a boy like me?” his tone was a bit more coy than playful now, flirtatious. “You’re hot,” she said stepping up toe to toe with him despite the height difference, “And you know you’re hot no matter how much you want to modestly deny it. Girls never tell you no, they’re flattered to have you tripping over them. It’s killing you that I’m making you work for it,” she said with a head tilt. “No it’s not,” he said laughing some but she only nodded, “It is, it’s all over your face,” she explained, before resting her hand on his chest, perfectly manicured nails catching his eye. “And those eyes,” she said, her fingers slowly moving over his chest, “Such sweet eyes, deep brown, they look innocent, you’re not innocent. Those curls, you look like a little angel, you’re not an angel,” she said before running her hand up his neck only to rub a thumb over his lips, “Your lips say your kisses are poison, regardless of what kind of beautiful words come out of them,” she said. “Mhm,” he hummed, leaning his head down to gently nip her thumb. “What if you’re wrong; and everything you just said is absolutely total shit?” he asked, “What if my eyes are kind, not innocent? And what if I am an angel, without wings to take me back to heaven?” he asked leaning in closer, letting his lips nearly brush hers, inches apart. As his hand moved to rest on her jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheek. She could smell his scent, and not just the beer on his breath, whatever intoxicating cologne he wore. “What if my kisses taste like honey?” he said in almost a whisper, just for them being so close. “I never said poison wasn’t sweet,” she answered just as quietly. A soft laugh left his lips, lusty in nature, “Aren’t we both holding poison in glasses?” he asked against her lips, slowly lifting his head so his lips brushed hers. But he jolted back as the sound of glass shattered, liquid spraying onto his jeans and shoes and a soft gasp left his mouth. He looked down and saw instantly where she’d dropped her glass on the patio floor. Between the music and laughter only a few people had noticed, but his eyes shot back to her, “Now I’m not,” she said in a more stern voice, “Dance with me,” There was a moment of silence as he smiled and then slowly realized she wasn’t joking, “I’m a horrible dancer,” he said quietly. “I can lead,” she said, taking his beer and setting it aside, “Don’t you want to know how my body feels in your hands?” That earned her another soft laugh from him but he nodded and stepped closer to her, “Lead the way,” he said gesturing more toward the center of the outdoor area. She did take his hand though, pulling him out some and almost immediately dancing herself, just kind of swaying in front of him and taking his hands and pulling them to her sides. That part he did get pretty quickly, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his body up against hers. It took him a few minutes, but soon enough he was in motion with her, leaning down and brushing his lips against her cheek and jaw as she ran one hand up his back, tangling it into the back of his curls. “So,” she said after a moment against his jaw, nuzzling her face against his, “How does my body feel?” she asked with a giggle. “It fits in my hands perfectly,” he said against her jaw, giving her soft kisses along her skin there as he pressed his body against hers, his hands beginning to run up her back slowly. But almost as soon as he got that touchy, she pulled back, just turning her back to him. Once again she pressed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she ground her hips back against him. At first he just put his hands on her sides, but slowly he let his palms wrap around her, resting on the front of her hips as he moved his hips in time with hers. The more they danced, changed positions and styles on the floor the more he fell in line with it. Of course it didn’t make him any less interested in her, and by the time she took his hand and pulled him to the side again, his cheeks were flushed a soft pink. He was sweating as she seemed to only glisten in the hot summer night. “I think you should get me a drink now,” she said looking up at him with a smile. He couldn’t help but grin, doing his best not to look so pleased with himself, “What do you want?” But she rolled her eyes at him, “You to get me a drink back at your hotel,” she said looking up at him with a rather sweet flirty smile. Now his grin was coy, biting his bottom lip as he took her hand, pulling her toward the front of the restaurant. “You’re eager,” she said laughing as she let him pull her along. Soon enough though they were standing in front of his motorcycle, and he was getting on before taking her hands and helping her get on as well. “Now you have to hold on really tight okay?” he said looking back at her. “Yeah, I know how this works,” she said in a more playful tone, wrapping her arms around his waist, running her palms up his chest slowly, and just holding him tight. Moments later though he was starting that bike and already beginning to drive them back toward the hotel. As he drove she did hold him close, her hands gently massaging his chest, resting her cheek against his back, just taking the opportunity to snuggle against him some. He was so big, especially compared to her, and she just took a moment to savor the way his toned muscles felt under her fingertips. Even through the fabric of his shirt she could feel the ripples beneath her fingers. Soon though the pulled up outside of that hotel, and he got off, once again getting the motorcycle in place, and then helping her get off of it, taking her hand as he pulled her along, slipping into his room with her and locking the door behind them.  Once he turned back to face her though, within seconds she was pushing him back onto the wall, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his face down, standing on her tiptoes even in the heels she was in to kiss him. Instantly his arms wrapped around her waist as he leaned down to kiss her. Long fingers slid up her back, one hand tangling into her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling gently. It was just enough to make her moan into that kiss, a soft little noise almost like a kitten mewl. As soon as her lips parted, his tongue slipped into her mouth and he was already walking her backward. He kept walking her back, slowly, his hand on her back guiding her, keeping himself bent over so that she wasn’t still on her tip toes. He walked her back until her shoulders hit the opposite wall, this wall only feet from the bed in the room. His tongue still tangled with hers inside of her mouth, and her hands left resting on his chest to push the jacket off of his shoulders. “I thought you wanted a drink,” he whispered against her lips, a smile painted on his own as he spoke. He broke it only to speak, shrugging off his jacket and pulling off his shirt while he was in the process, just to not have to stop kissing her again. “You’re so fucking cocky,” she said with a grin, pushing at his chest, almost as if to push him off of her, “With that attitude your cock must be huge,” her tone was sarcastic, “You walk like it is,” she purred. “Well, you’re about to find out aren’t you?” he asked, reaching to take a hold of her jaw, lifting her face to lock eyes with her before he kissed her again. She almost moaned into that kiss, just the amount of passion he put into it, his fingers slipping down lower to wrap around her throat as he took a step closer to her. Her hands found his body now, running up his sides and over his chest, down the ripples of his stomach. Nails gently dragging over his skin, leaving little claw marks along him while she did. The way they kissed was intense, starving as if they were trying to outdo each other. Both of their hands tangled in the other’s hair, his fingers pulling hers almost as if he’d hold her still that way. Her fingers tugged his curls though, almost just to feel his breathing shake against her lips. It felt like hours of those kisses before his hands found her hips and picking her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. His hands slid down her back, grabbing at her ass, and just sort of holding her up that way as he pressed her back more against the wall for leverage. Regardless it seemed effortless for him to hold her up that way, and he kept kissing her, like her breath was the only thing filling his lungs. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his curls, and giving soft moans and purrs into those kisses. It wasn’t much longer though before she turned her head to the side, exposing her neck to him, “I want more of you,” she whispered, giggling as she felt his kisses move down her neck. “More than kisses?” he whispered, his lips moving up the curve of her neck now. He would leave full lipped slow kisses, almost sticky as he trailed them up to that soft spot just behind her ear. He attacked it as his lips reached it, kissing and sucking the skin, dragging his teeth over it and nipping. “Mhm” she purred, giggling at his touch despite it turning into a moan halfway through, her nails clawing down his scalp. “God, you’ve got me so fucking wet…” “Good,” he whispered against her ear before nipping gently at the lobe. But he slowly turned and walked to the edge of the bed, sitting her there as he reached down to unzip the back of the dress she was wearing. With one swift tug he pulled it over her head, dropping it beside the bed as he knelt down and slipped her heels off, one then the other, running his hands up her thighs as he watched her. “You know they say when a woman’s lingerie matches, you didn’t get lucky, she planned to fuck you,” he said letting his fingertips move up her hips and over the deep crimson panties, up to the matching bra. It wasn’t exactly lingerie, a bit of sheer material and some floral patterns mixed in but all the same she made it sexy. “I think in this case, you should consider yourself lucky,” she said leaning down, resting her fingertips under his chin and lifting it before kissing him again. This kiss was soft and short, and she spoke against his lips with a moment, “Now take off your pants so I can see if you’re wasting my time or not,” When she said that, he laughed, slowly standing up then, “Mn, well get there but you’re going to have to be patient,” he said reaching behind her and undoing her bra now, pulling it off as well, before reaching down to tug off her panties. A soft gasp left her lips as she sort of fell back, letting him toss that fabric aside, before sitting up on her elbows to look at him. “What, like what you see?” she asked before sitting up and then standing, reaching up to tug him down again, “Of course I do, I have taste,” he said resting his hands on her hips before pushing her back onto the bed again, this time moving over her as he kissed her again. That kiss was broken soon by him though as he reached one hand up, spitting on his fingers and sliding that hand between them. Moments later his fingers found her slit, and he pushed two fingers into her, slowly massaging her inner walls at first. Soft moans left her lips almost instantly as one hand tangled back in his hair the other hand sort of clawed along his arm. Her legs fell open for him, and her body almost naturally arched against his touch, “That feels good,” she encouraged, her breathing a soft pant. “Good,” his voice was a hot breath against her neck, his lips dragging up the curve and up to her temple, nuzzling his face against her as his free hand roamed her body, touching and feeling her. It was almost overwhelming for her, the heat of his body, tenderness of his lips and those fingers inside of her that hooked just into the perfect spot. Slowly those fingers got faster, rougher, the heat already beginning to bubble in her stomach, dangerously close to overflowing already, “Oh…fuck,” she whispered, those moans of hers turning into a whine now as her nails dragged against his shoulder and back, “Oh, fuck Shawn, that’s good,” her hips didn’t grind up to him anymore, instead just staying arched up off the bed. “You’re not going to cum already are you?” his voice was husky but it was condescending, “I thought you would put up more of a fight than that,” The way he spoke didn’t stop him from nuzzling into her neck, nipping and kissing that tender skin as he worked those fingers faster inside of her, his thumb now brushing over her clit, which only served to make her hips jerk against his touch. She was whining constantly now, cursing under her breath, her body jerking and twitching as her nails nearly drew blood from his skin. Moments later though one of her hands shot to cover her mouth as she almost screamed against it. Just as quickly as her hand moved though, his hand grabbed it, pulling it away from her mouth, “Don’t you dare,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “If I’m making you scream you fucking scream for me,” his fingers moved rougher inside of her now. And scream she did, her body jerking as she reached her orgasm, soaking his fingers and his wrist, as well as the covers between them. Her voice trembled almost like a dry sob with each noise she made, her hips rolling against his touch while she came down from it, humming in the afterglow of that pleasure. “Good girl,” he said in a whisper, kissing down her neck and over her chest, leaving kisses and licks along her breasts, nipping her skin gently while he did. But his eyes were up and locked on her as her chest heaved and she did her best to relax, her fingers tangling into his curls, just crawling along his scalp, gently scratching at him while her hips sort of shifted. It was like she was squirming to find a spot she was comfortable in again. “What?” he said after a moment, his chin between her breasts his eyes up and locked on her face, “Are you still worked up? Do you want something else? You want me to fuck you maybe?” he whispered, kissing his way up to her chin and brushing his nose and lips against hers, “I want you to say please, you’ve been such a fucking brat all night, and now you’re going to ask politely,” She gave a huff at his statement, looking at him with defiant eyes, but she sighed before nodding, “Fine, please,” As she spoke, he moved back up onto his knees, undoing his jeans, and hooking his thumbs in the sides of his underwear, pulling both down at the same time, and kicking them off as he kept his eyes locked on hers. A coy grin found his lips as her eyes moved up and down his body, her mouth slowly falling open in shock, “Please fuck me,” she whispered before looking back up at him. “Is it big enough for you?” he asked, giving her SUCH a smirk. Despite the fact that she felt her cheeks heat up, she did her best to play it off, even as he moved back over the top of her, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said not breaking that eye contact. “You don’t?” he asked, laughing softly as he lightly pressed his hips against hers, shifting ever so slightly so that his cock slipped between her thighs and slid up and down her slit as he rolled his hips. That already elicited a soft moan from her but his hand slid behind her, tangling back in her hair and jerking it hard, enough to make her gasp and whine softly, “My cock,” he said in a stern voice, “You think my cock is big enough for that greedy fucking pussy hm?” She nodded instantly, whining softly, “Yes, yes it’s big enough, I want it so bad please stop making me wait,” she in a quiet voice, despite the fact that her hands were almost pulling at his hips now. “That’s what I thought,” he said in a softer voice, giving her a smile as he reached down, taking a hold of his cock and moving so that it gently pushed into her, giving a soft moan of his own as that tight heat swallowed him. It took the two of them a moment to find a rhythm that they both matched to. He began slower so that he wouldn’t hurt her, and yet she instantly pressed against his hips, almost like begging for more. Soon though he was thrusting into her at a steady pace and his hand slid up her body, wrapping around her throat. He didn’t really choke her, more just rest his hand there, giving her another knowing grin as her hand wrapped around his wrist. “Choke me,” she whispered and with a nod he tightened his grip on her throat. “Of course sweetheart,” he cooed in a slightly condescending tone but leaning in and kissing her forehead as his hips rolled against hers. For a split second he could see the whites of her eyes as they fluttered and her mouth fell open. He could feel her tighten against his cock as well, clenching and squeezing as her body tightened against him. The waves of pleasure radiating up through her body as she wrapped a leg around his waist. It was so much better than she wanted to admit it was, the way he moved his hips was insane it was like he knew exactly where to aim. Each push into her made his cock drag against the most sensitive spots inside of her. That alone was enough to take her breath away, but the way his fingers pressed against her throat was magical. She could breathe, easier than she was used to with boys who tried this before. But her mind felt like a haze, almost like she couldn’t move, like she had to lay there and take his cock any way he wanted to give it to her, not that she had any complaints. “Does it feel good baby doll?” he whispered against her jaw, “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” his voice was still cocky, his lips pulled into a smirk as he reached his free hand between them, brushing over her clit while he kept thrusting into her. This earned him a yelp though, her hips jerking up against him as she arched her body, her head falling back so that his lips dragged along her neck. “You feel…so fucking good,” she whispered, “That cock is so fucking deep baby, you’re amazing,” she panted, looking at him the best she could. “I’m glad,” his voice was genuine now as he dragged his lips and nose up her cheek, kissing at her cheek softly, speaking there despite how rough he thrust into her now, “You’re so wet, it feels incredible…” he panted softly, “You’re so beautiful right now, the way your lips fall open when you want to speak but can’t, you look like a fucking angel with my cock inside of you,” When he said that, she laughed softly, it was a worked up laugh and mixed in with her moans, “I knew you were bad,” she gasped, her lips falling open again as his cock brushed that sweet spot. But within seconds he slipped out of her, “The kindest demon you’ll ever know,” he cooed, his hands flipping her. His arms were strong and he handled her almost as if she were a doll, tossing her around was nothing for him. It was all so fast, he had her on her stomach, pulling her hips up so she was on her hands and knees. Strong hands pushed her back to form her into the arch he wanted. Seconds later he was pushing back into her, making her cry out at the sudden intrusion. “Oh god, it’s fucking deeper like this,” she cried out, arching tighter and pressing back against his hips. “That’s a good thing right?” he asked with a laugh, but her hands clawed at the sheets beside her head, “God, yes, it’s fucking amazing, you’re so fucking good,” she whined, her voice almost trembling as she felt his hands rest on her hips. He had control of their motions now, pulling her back into his thrusts as he slammed up into her each time. He did keep her bouncing, body shaking the bed moving with them as he set that pace. Soon his hand ran up her back, tangling into her hair and pulling it back like a leash, earning himself another gasping moan from her. He could hear her on the verge of sobbing now, whispering things like ‘its so good’ and ‘please yes’ under her breath while she did. “That pussy mine tonight baby?” he purred, leaning in to kiss along the back of her shoulder. Almost as soon as he asked, she half sobbed a soft ‘yes’ her voice vibrating it out as he nuzzled against her. “You’re such a sweet girl,” he whispered in her hair, resting his lips there, “Are you going to let me cum inside of that hot pussy baby? Are you going to let me fill you up with this thick load?” his voice was ragged now, despite the gentle way he nuzzled against her. She could already feel herself getting closer, and with the way he spoke to her, she whined, reaching one hand under her, massaging her clit in a fast desperate way. “Yes,” she whined out again, voice still shaking, “You’re going to make me cum Shawn, please, please don’t stop, I want you to cum for me so bad, fill me up,” her voice was nearly a sob now, and the way he almost growled against her ear when she spoke…that was enough. Seconds later she was reaching her second orgasm, her body clenching so tight against his as she screamed. This time it wasn’t muffled or stifled, but it did fade into a pleasured sob moments later, soft ‘yes’s trailing it out as she quieted down. Her hips rolled against him while she rode it out, but after a few more rough thrusts he was spilling into her. His own moan a gasp, low and hungry as he just tried to push his hips tighter against her. She could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of her, and the way that warmth seemed to drain into her stomach, running down her thighs as he slipped out of her. As soon as his hands were off of her body, she collapsed against the bed, slowly moving and crawling up to rest against one of the pillows. However she positioned her body so she was looking up at him, doing her best to ignore the shit eating grin on his face. “That was hot, you’re so fucking sexy,” he panted after a moment, leaning down and brushing her hair out of her face as he kissed her temple. “Do you want a drink now?” he asked quietly. “Nuh-uh,” she whispered, but her hand rested on his, before moving to hold his wrist, “Lay with me,” she said quietly, “Let me pretend you’ll be here in the morning,” Despite the fact that he moved and rested beside her, he laughed a little, “Did you forget this is my hotel room, why wouldn’t I be here in the morning?” he asked shaking his head, “You should go use the bathroom, right?” he said in a very paternal kind of way. But she just wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he fingers massaged his scalp through his curls again, “Stop bullshitting me, everyone here knows who you are, who you work for,” her tone wasn’t mean, it wasn’t mad or even accusing, just soft and sleepy. All the same, the room fell silent once she’d spoken. “Then why did you do this?” he asked quietly, watching her smile as her eyes closed in a sleepy way. “Because you wanted me to, and no matter how much I knew I should be running the other way, you’re so damn hard to say no to,” she cooed as her fingernails gently scratched at the nape of his neck. “I thought you didn’t like that,” he said in a teasing way, leaning in and letting his nose brush hers. “Mn, I wish I could have kept pretending that I didn’t,” she said softly. After that he didn’t speak, his hand stroking her hair as her nails lazily scratched at him, playing with his curls until she fell asleep. Honestly, he was on the verge of falling asleep himself, until he heard the familiar vibration of his phone. Slowly he pulled himself from her, careful to not wake her up, sighing heavily as he walked to his jeans. Taking his phone out of the pocket he swiped up to see his notifications, despite already knowing what it was. His eyes scanned the single text message, ‘he’s ready for your pickup.’  “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, sighing again as his eyes fell on the girl in his bed. Quietly he got dressed, pulling on each piece silently, but when he got to his jacket, he glanced back at her before just resting the jacket on the edge of the bed. She could have that, if she didn’t hate him, he decided, an apology of sorts. Once dressed he slipped his bag out of the closet, sliding that gun in the back of his jeans, pulling his shirt over it to hide it. Lastly, he walked to the side table in the room, over to the pen and paper that was always left there for guests. He took a moment to write his cellphone number, and just a little note that read ‘Call me, señorita ♡’ just tossing that note pad on top of his jacket before he slipped out of the room. And he did go by check out, paying for the room before he got back on that motorcycle once again.

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (2/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one. 

Rating will be explicit in later chapters. This chapter 4k words. (ao3)

(Chapter 1)

________________________________

Chapter 2

The cardboard tray of chicken enchiladas was barely visible through the dirty microwave door, spinning slowly as it defrosted. Patrick Brewer stood and watched the little digital numbers counting down. When the microwave dinged, he used some paper towels as an oven mitt to pull his lunch out, picking up his refilled water bottle in the other hand to take both back to his office.

“You could eat your lunch here, you know. You don’t have to go hide in your office.”

He looked over at Eleanor, one of the salespeople at Rollins Electrical Supply, where he’d been employed as the small company’s business manager for the last two months. “I’m not hiding; I just like to work while I eat.”

“Well, I don’t think all those spreadsheets are good for your digestion,” she said with a smile, elbow on the table with her fork hovering over her salad.

Patrick shrugged and sat across from her at the small break room table. “I don’t usually see you in here at lunch time.”

“Yeah, I’m usually out on sales calls in the middle of the day, but we’ve got that training at one o’clock.”

He rolled his eyes. “Super useful for us desk jockeys to undergo extensive training on electrical safety, huh?”

“I know my life is frequently in danger from… see, I can’t even come up with an example of something that would be funny.”

“Don’t you sell this stuff for a living?” Patrick asked with a smirk. Eleanor was nice and clever; he hadn’t really made a work friend since coming back to his home town and taking this job. Maybe she could be his work friend.

“So, Linda was telling me you got married recently?” she asked around a mouthful of baby spinach.

Patrick tried not to cringe. Apparently Linda, their administrative assistant, was a gossip. “Uh… yeah. Three months ago.” He looked down at his left hand and winced. He’d forgotten to put on his wedding ring again. He hoped Rachel wouldn’t notice it sitting on his bedside table.

“Wow, really recently. And then you guys moved here to Oak Grove?”

“Oh… not exactly. Rachel and I grew up here, but I had moved away for a few months. I came back when we got married.” He took a bite of his mediocre frozen entree. It was too hot, and he burned his tongue.

“Gotcha. Were you away at school or something?”

Eleanor was clearly one of those people who loved asking questions about your life until she dug down to something uncomfortable. With Patrick she didn’t have to dig that deep.

“No, I’d just…” He sighed — how to explain the temporary insanity that had taken him to Schitt’s Creek? “I thought I needed to make a big change in my life,” he blurted out quickly. “I quit my job and broke up with Rachel and moved to this random town to work for a guy, Ray, who… it doesn’t matter. It was all a big mistake.”

“Wow, so you and Rachel got back together and then immediately got married? That’s ballsy.”

Was that what it was? he thought. “We’ve been together off and on since we were teenagers. She… she knows how to shake some sense back into me when I need it.” He’d certainly needed it when Rachel showed up in Schitt’s Creek, rescuing him from the lonely life he’d fallen into. Renting a single room in Ray’s house in a town where there hadn’t really enough financial planning business to cobble together a full-time job, where his only friend was the sullen woman who worked at the motel, and their only activity had been going to a seedy bar on the outskirts of town to drink beers and mope about their sad lives.

That reminded him, he really should text Stevie and see how she was doing.

Eleanor seemed to finally get the hint that quizzing Patrick about his relationship with his wife might be too much of a minefield for a work acquaintance to navigate. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Patrick got to the middle part of his frozen entree and found that it was too cold. He powered through eating it anyway.

“So are you married?” he asked in an attempt at polite interest.

“Yep. We’ve got two boys, four and six.”

Patrick asked her for pictures, figuring that would effectively occupy the rest of lunch. It did. He paged through the pictures on her phone and cooed appropriately at the cute kids until it was time to grab a cup of coffee — a potion to prevent sleeping during the corporate safety training session.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, Patrick letting himself sink into the soothing monotony of working on the budget for the following year’s capital expenditures. When his phone buzzed, he was surprised to see that it was already half past five.

The text was from Rachel. Don’t forget we’re having dinner with your parents tonight.

He had forgotten, but he didn’t mind so long as his mother had finished giving them grief about rushing off for a quickie courthouse wedding and denying her the joy of seeing them get married ‘properly.’

Before he drove the short distance home in the darkness of the January evening, Patrick plugged his phone into the auxiliary jack, loading up a news podcast to listen to on the drive. He’d been listening to podcasts a lot lately, as if he had to be feeding content into his brain during any idle moment. He tried not to think about why.

The apartment was quiet when he walked in; Rachel was picking up some bread rolls and a bottle of wine to bring over to his parents’ house on her way home from work, she’d said. A stack of boxes that he still hadn’t managed to unpack stood in one corner of the living room, shaming him. He went into the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes that were in the sink, along with a pot that had been left to soak the night before.

When the apartment door opened, Patrick felt his shoulders tense.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Rachel called.

“Yeah, give me just a sec,” Patrick called back, flipping the now-clean pot upside down and setting it aside to dry. Wiping off his hands, he emerged and gave his wife a small smile. “All set.”

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it out and glanced down.

[Stevie] hey. whatcha doing?

Patrick put the phone back in his pocket without responding. “You want me to drive?” he asked Rachel.

The trip to Clint and Marcy’s house was ten minutes. Everything in Patrick’s world was within a five mile radius — his apartment, his job, his parents’ house, the stores he shopped at, the bar drank at. No wonder he’d thought escaping to a new place would solve his problems. It hadn’t.

His phone buzzed again as they pulled into the driveway, tires crunching over uneven pavement where he’d tripped and skinned his knees when he was eight.

[Stevie] i’m about to go to the bar alone and i need u to convince me not to go home with a loser

Patrick texted her back: Don’t go home with a loser.

“Who ya texting?” Rachel asked.

Patrick put his phone away and stepped out of the car, grabbing the bread and wine from the back seat. “Just somebody from work,” he said, the lie coming without forethought. It wasn’t that he had any feelings for Stevie; Stevie had only ever been a friend. But he figured Rachel might be suspicious of the female friend he’d made during the last time they were broken up.

He looked at his phone again as he followed Rachel up the driveway.

[Stevie] very helpful 🙄

[Patrick] You’re better than this, Stevie.

[Stevie] that’s debatable

“Come on in, kids,” his Dad said as he opened the door, giving an exaggerated shudder as the winter wind accompanied them into the house. “Brrr, it’s a cold one!”

His mom joined them in the foyer, taking the wine and bread rolls with a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks for having us for dinner. It’s always nice to not have to cook,” he said as he pulled off his gloves and scarf and winter coat. Shoving the gloves into a coat pocket, he hung everything on a peg.

“Of course, we love having you here,” Marcy said.

“Maybe we should make it a weekly thing,” Rachel suggested, following Marcy to the kitchen. Patrick shoved his hands deep in his pockets and shot his father a tight smile.

“So, son,” Clint said, clapping Patrick on the back as they followed the women. “How’s married life?”

Patrick tensed, then hoped that his father hadn’t felt the tension in the hand that was still resting on his shoulder. “It’s fine. Good.” What was he supposed to say within earshot of his new wife, anyway? It’s a lot like before we were married, Dad. I feel tired and sad most of the time. I’m relieved every time Rachel leaves the house and anxious when she comes home. I stay up late watching TV to avoid going to bed with her. The thought of this being the rest of my life makes me want to… He choked that thought off before he could finish it.

Rachel fell naturally into helping his mother in the kitchen while Patrick stood by and watched. It wasn’t that he and Rachel cleaved to those kinds of regressive gender roles with meal preparation in their own apartment, but Patrick felt wrong-footed and awkward with his parents these days. He had for a while now. Rachel and Marcy chatted happily; they’d always gotten along well, those two. It was yet another reason that he’d gotten back together with Rachel each time — he knew it was what his parents wanted.

He checked his phone, but Stevie hadn’t texted again.

Schitt’s Creek had felt like his salvation when he first arrived, Ray Butani a gift from the heavens who offered him a room to rent and a job within a few minutes of his interview. Often in those early days, as Patrick had walked past the shuttered general store to get lunch at the cafe, he’d have a feeling deep in his bones that something wonderful was right around the corner for him. Sometimes it had felt so immediate that he’d stop and turn around quickly, expecting to see… he was never sure. He’d scrutinize what passed for the downtown, wondering why he felt like he’d just walked into a room and had forgotten what he was there for. Eventually that feeling of possibility faded and loneliness had crept in to replace it. When Rachel had arrived in town after a few months and asked him to take her back, he’d told himself it was for the best.

“Patrick’s going to New York in a few weeks,” Rachel volunteered as they all sat down to eat.

“Oh, really?” His father looked over to him, impressed. “What for?”

“It’s New Jersey, actually. And it’s just so that I can take a seminar on U.S. tax law. Rollins wants to do more business outside of Canada and I need to learn more about it, that’s all.”

“You’ll need your passport,” his mother said.

Patrick chuckled. Once a mother, always a mother. “I know, Mom.”

It took until halfway through dinner before his mother mentioned the wedding.

“I was thinking,” Marcy continued, putting down her fork. “I know you’ve rejected the idea of having another ceremony so that the family can be there, but what would you think about just a reception? A party, so that everyone can celebrate your marriage? Would that be okay?”

Patrick felt his stomach turn over. “It would cost a lot of money, Mom,” he said, looking down at his plate and not at Rachel.

“We can help with the cost, sweetheart, and I’m sure Rachel’s parents would say the same.” She reached over and took his hand. “We just want to do something nice that would allow us to celebrate your happiness.”

His happiness. His eyes flicked briefly to Rachel, who was watching him for his reaction. “I don’t know. We’ll talk about it.” Another glance at Rachel — she had averted her gaze and was staring down at her plate.

“Oh, do you remember Mrs. Temple down at the library?” Marcy asked. “She asked me today if it was a shotgun wedding, can you believe it?”

Patrick scowled at her. “In other words, she wanted to know if I had to marry Rachel because she’s pregnant? That’s what she wanted to know?”

Rachel snorted.

“I’m sure she was only kidding,” Clint said, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“Just tell anyone who asks that it was because Patrick had to get the wedding over with quickly before he inevitably talked himself out of it again,” Rachel said.

“Rach—”

“What? I’m joking,” she said, taking a large swig of her wine. “Lighten up, Patrick.”

Several seconds of excruciating silence passed before Marcy cleared her throat. “Did you end up joining the hockey team, sweetheart? You’d mentioned you were thinking about it.”

Patrick shook his head. He used to play with a local adult league, but he would have had to try to join a team late this year, and even the thought of the whole process had exhausted him. “Not this year. But I’ll do baseball this summer.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” his mother said.

“We’re loving that new blender you got us for Christmas,” Rachel said.

“Rach is trying to become a smoothie person,” Patrick said.

“I can be a smoothie person,” Rachel said with a laugh, and Patrick breathed a sigh of relief.

The awkwardness past, they carried dinner over the finish line with similarly banal small talk. Patrick managed to maintain an upbeat facade until they were back in the car.

“I think I’m gonna meet Dennis for a beer down at Cooper’s after I drop you at home,” he said as he backed out of the driveway. “He texted me a little bit ago.” Actually, Patrick had texted his cousin from the bathroom before they left his parents’ house.

“Oh,” Rachel said, staring out the passenger window. “Okay.”

They were most of the way home before she spoke again. “Listen, we don’t need to do that reception thing your mom was talking about.”

“We can if you want to,” Patrick replied.

“No, because I know you don’t want to.”

“I’m fine with it.”

Rachel laughed bitterly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know why I thought getting married would make things better. It’s only made things worse, hasn’t it?”

Patrick’s stomach dropped, and he reached for something to say. “I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring, Patrick?”

He stretched out his fingers on the steering wheel. “I just forgot to put it back on this morning, that’s all. I swear.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

“Look, I won’t go to the bar. I’ll come in and we can talk—”

“I don’t really want to talk.” Rachel’s voice quavered. “I’d rather be alone right now.”

Patrick pulled up in front of the house. “I thought things between us were okay.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘okay’ is supposed to be like. And maybe I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like either, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be like this. I think I’m supposed to very occasionally feel like my husband loves me and desires me.”

“Rachel, I do love you.”

“And I don’t know if you know what that means.” She jerked her seat belt off and pulled open the car door.

“Rach—”

“Patrick, don’t. Just… we can talk tomorrow, okay?” She slammed the car door and ran into the building before he could say anything else.

Driving to the bar in a daze, Patrick tried to raise and counter all the things that could potentially have set Rachel off. The fact that he wasn’t wearing his ring, that had truly just been forgetfulness. His reluctance to have a reception to celebrate their wedding, that was because of the cost. His general unhappiness these days, that was just the winter doldrums. The fact that he could count the number of times they’d had sex in the last several weeks on one hand? He was just tired and stressed because of his new job.

The bar was busy, even for a Friday night, the music and raised voices of animated, drunk conversations hitting him like a wall of sound as he pushed through the heavy oak door. He spotted Dennis at the bar, and Patrick waved and made his way over.

“Hey,” Dennis said, gesturing vaguely with his beer bottle as Patrick pulled off his coat. “I would have ordered you something, but they have a lot of new, confusing microbrews here now and it paralyzed me.”

Patrick clapped his cousin on the back as he sat down on an adjacent stool and fumbled to find the coat hook under the bar without looking. “No problem.” He raised a finger to signal the bartender, a heavily tattooed woman with an asymmetrical haircut who Patrick was pretty sure had gone to his high school. She nodded to indicate she’d seen him as her hands moved quickly to pour bourbon into several glasses.

“Is everything okay?” Dennis asked. “It’s usually me dragging you out to the bar, not the other way around.”

Patrick took a breath, uncertain how much of his problems he should spill, but he was saved by the arrival of the bartender.

“Hey, Ash,” Dennis said.

“Hey,” she said before turning to Patrick. “What can I get you?”

“A shot of Bulleit and whatever you have on draft that’s not too hoppy, please.”

The bartender nodded. “Gotcha, just a minute.”

Dennis had an eyebrow arched. “Do we have a goal in mind tonight to get shit-faced? Because if so, I need to level up.”

“It’s been a long week,” Patrick said, eyes following the bartender. “You know, I could have sworn when she was in high school, her name was Katie. Or Kristen? Something with a K.”

“It was Kaitlyn, but now it’s Ash, and they use they/them pronouns now,” Dennis said.

“Oh,” Patrick said, uncertain what his reaction to that information should be. What he felt for just a brief second was a surge of… jealousy? Uncertain of where that could possibly be coming from, he did his best to ignore it.

“So is it the new job that’s driving you to drink?” Dennis asked.

“No, the job is fine. How’s teaching?” Patrick’s cousin taught math at the local high school.

“Is it summer yet?” Dennis asked with a manic laugh. “My kids this year are a handful.”

Ash brought Patrick’s drinks over, and as they set them down, Dennis gestured to their forearm, where a woman’s face was tattooed on their pale skin. Or, half of a face, at any rate. The other half was a skeletal horror. “I don’t remember seeing that tattoo before,” he commented.

Ash looked down at it and smiled. “It’s fairly new. Hela, the Norse goddess of death.”

“I don’t remember Cate Blanchett looking like that in the last Thor movie,” Patrick said, taking a sip of his beer.

Ash rolled their eyes. “Yeah, because I’m not talking about a superhero movie, I’m talking about actual Norse mythology,” they said as they walked away to go deal with another customer.

“So, how’s Rachel?” Dennis asked.

Patrick shrugged, tossing back the bourbon and following it with a long drag from his beer.

Dennis was watching him carefully. “That good, huh?”

“Pretty sure she already regrets getting married.”

“No way. Rachel adores you, there’s no way she regrets marrying you.” Dennis picked up a coaster and rolled it back and forth along the bar. “Unless she’s picking up on some regret on your part.”

Patrick swallowed more beer, impatient for the alcohol to dull the sharp edges of his emotions. “I’ve loved Rachel since I was a kid, why would I have regrets?”

Dennis opened his mouth and then hesitated for several seconds before speaking. “You do know that loving someone the way you love a best friend, or a sister, that’s not the same thing as being in love with them, right? Like, I’m sure some people build marriages on that kind of… I don’t know, companionship, and if you’re both approaching it that way, fine, but it’s not what most marriages are based on.”

“I don’t love her like a sister, Dennis. Pretty sure I wouldn’t fuck my sister,” Patrick said with a strained laugh.

“Okay, fair enough, but tell me honestly: is Rachel truly the love of your life? And don’t answer me with how long you’ve been a couple. Tell me that when you’re away from her, you miss her like there’s a gaping hole in your chest. Tell me that the thought of your future together makes you so happy, you can hardly contain it. Tell me that sometimes you can’t wait to tear her clothes off.”

The bartender was handing a check to the woman sitting a couple of stools down as he said all this, and Patrick could see Ash register at least some of Dennis’ speech. His cousin was now waiting for him to respond, but he had no idea how to. All of that stuff sounded like the way people said they felt in movies. It didn’t sound like real life.

“You know, at one point I thought you were gay,” Dennis said.

Patrick reared back on his stool. “What? When did you think that?”

“During high school. You had that friend on the baseball team… I don’t remember his name. The tall guy.”

Patrick didn’t want to admit that he knew immediately who Dennis was talking about. “Eric.”

“You guys spent a lot of time hanging out, and the way you looked at him…” Dennis shrugged. “Just kind of looked like you were in love with him.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Patrick said. He could feel himself flushing. It suddenly felt very hot in the bar, and he felt the urge to flee — to run outside into the night and put his face in the nearest snow bank.

“Okay,” Dennis said simply.

“Seriously, I wasn’t,” Patrick said, unsure why he was still talking when Dennis had seemed willing to drop it. “I was dating Rachel then anyway; I wasn’t into my best friend.”

“I said okay.”

“I’m going to be a total asshole and butt in,” Ash said, and Patrick looked up in surprise, wondering how long they had been standing there. “But have you considered the idea that you might be asexual? Or aromantic? Or both?”

“Kinda putting your tip at risk here, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.

Ash shrugged. “I know, I’m breaking the bartender code; don’t offer your opinion unless it’s asked for. Sorry.” They crossed their arms over their vintage Roxy Music t-shirt and didn’t look particularly sorry.

“I’m not asexual,” Patrick said, although he knew he didn’t have as much of a libido as most people seemed to. “I like sex just fine.”

Ash arched a well-sculpted eyebrow. “Convincing.”

“Okay, can we change the subject, please?” Patrick asked, taking another large drink from his beer glass.

“Sorry, man.” Dennis at least had the decency to look regretful. “Look, you know I’m always here for you, right? Whatever you need.”

Patrick knew he should have been comforted by that, but it was hard to feel comforted by his cousin’s offer when he had no idea what he needed. He stared down into his almost-empty beer glass, looking for the answer.

Chapter 3

[takemedancingmaine]

Go, Cubs, Go!

It was cold. Very, very cold. I had prepared myself for it, too, but wasn't able to properly stay warm no matter how hard I tried. The walk from my front door to the stadium takes less than ten minutes, and in that time I'd frozen.

I had worn a thermal and a long sleeve t-shirt underneath my jersey and my jacket, had a knit hat on and had on a pair of leggings underneath my jeans. When I'd left my apartment I'd glanced at my weather app on my phone and thought about how ridiculous I'd look all bundled up when the temperature was supposed to be 45 degrees I almost cringed in embarrassment. I was pretty good at dealing with the cold.

When I was a block away from my place though and a massive wind gust came and almost picked me up off the ground, I was thanking my forethought for the layers. We were going to be in the stands, high up and in the path of the wind, and I would have been miserable if I'd not dressed like I had. I thought wistfully of the overpriced beer that I'd purchase once inside and although the drink would be cold the alcohol would warm me up.

The streets and sidewalks were packed. Usually, they're pretty busy, especially when the Cubs play. This though. This was something else.

This was game one of the World Series.

The air was electric as I followed the crowds, the hoards of people--who had come by foot, car, train, and some by planes--down the road to the main entrance. I passed by countless scalpers yelling that they had the best price, passed people who'd bought water in bulk just to sell it to fans on the street, passed people who were overflowing out of bars with stamps on their hands to prove that they were allowed back inside per the fire code, and had even seen who I thought was Bill Murray out of the corner of my eye.

I was beyond excited. Words didn't exist that could describe how excited I was. Everyone from the group was coming out tonight, even Niall had been convinced to show up, and it was baseball at its finest.

There are two types of baseball. The first type is baseball in the spring and summer. Baseball in the summer is when you can just sit out in shorts and a jersey, get a tan while drinking a cold beer and watching a sport that enables you to have a conversation. It's a hot and lazy day with friends, sports, and alcohol. You can talk, watch, and just enjoy life as you engage with those around you.

Then there's tournament baseball. It includes lots of heckling and tension that doesn't leave your shoulders for hours. Any drinking is done to help relieve tension and not just to be done socially. The highs of the game--strikeouts, double plays, home runs--are higher and the lows are lower. There's always a belief that the impossible can happen and that's what sports are all about: the impossible becoming reality.

Both types of baseball have their merits, but both types also have their pitfalls. For instance, a negative to summer baseball is the inevitability that at least once you will forget sunscreen. Then that perfect tan you worked on turns into a radioactive, angry red colour--here's looking at you, college Cleo. A negative to tournament baseball is that it can end quickly and sour even the best of moods.

I shoved both my hands into my back pockets and tried to get to the meeting point we’d set for ourselves near the marquee. It was difficult to squeeze past and manoeuvre through countless people of all ages, but I spotted Harry and Ana along with Cleo all bundled together, chatting to each other with their backs angled toward the wind to block some of the cold.

I wasn't at all concerned that seeing my friends in person after news came out about Niall and myself. The group chat had been absolutely mental throughout the week, but it was nothing too bad, nothing neither Niall nor I couldn't handle. I was hoping that my friends would be mature and would have gotten all of their teasing out via text. I knew that wouldn't be the case, but I hoped regardless of my knowledge.

“Are we crazy for doing this?” Ana asked with a genuinely curious look on her face as I stepped up to them.

“Was Kennedy crazy when he said we were going to the moon?” Cleo asked back.

“Yes.” Harry nodded, his beanie causing the ends of his curls to wrap up and frame his face. He looked ten years younger as a result.

“Then yes.” Cleo smiled as she nudged me.

“Oh look, it's the woman of the hour.” Harry turned to face me. “I don't think I've ever known you not single.”

I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment.

“It's true,” he said matter-of-factly. “Three years now and you've not had a boyfriend for any span of time.”

“I wasn’t exactly withering away into nothingness during that time,” I sighed. “I went out and had fun.”

“Having fun with someone and dating someone are two completely different things,” Ana said.

“Cleo’s never had a girlfriend,” I pointed out.

“That's not true.” Cleo nudged me again. “Remember Mary?”

I shivered. I did remember her. “She was miserable and it only lasted three months.”

“It still counts.” She shrugged.

“It does.” Harry nodded as he gave me a cheeky smile. “Is it the accent that does it for you? Turns you on? Are you using him to get a work visa in Ireland?”

“Dude, sometimes I have an accent.” I gave him a pointed look. When I spoke to my parents or spoke in Hindi the accent just came out. I'd learned to speak it from my parents who had their own accents, so my words were tinted in the same ways.

Harry shrugged.

“And no. Seeing as he just moved back here and took a pretty good job, I doubt he's moving back to Ireland any time soon. If I was using him for a work visa it would be a poor plan.”

“True,” he said.

Even over the din of shouting and heckling and excited conversations going on around us, we all heard Louis calling out to is all in greeting. He was flanked by Niall and Liam, the three of them having met up at Niall’s and walking here instead of attempting to take the train. He had texted me while they walked saying they'd given him his fair share of ribbing.

He walked up to me wearing a Cubs hat and I spotted a Cubs shirt underneath his windbreaker. I had a sneaking suspicion that neither item was his.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek as he stepped beside me. I melted under his touch--even knowing that all of our friends were gaping at us--and leaned into his side.

“I cannot believe you got me to come out here,” he said to us all while looking around pointedly at the crowd. “This place is absolutely insane.”

“It's pretty cool though, right?” Ana asked.

“Yeah, it's alright.” He shrugged, but his smirk gave him away.

“Ignore him, he's excited,” Louis looked between him and me, “and not just because Ruby is here.”

I reached over and flicked Louis’ ear. He laughed, and so did the rest of them. I groaned and Niall's hand squeezed my waist.

“Are these yours?” I asked as I reached up flicked the brim of Niall’s hat and pulled the collar of his shirt a bit.

“Actually, yes.” He smiled, proud of himself. “They're from when I lived here the first time. I worked literally less than a block from here: I couldn't not have some gear. Plus, I look really good in blue.”

I laughed and shook my head at him. He wasn't wrong, though. He did look good in blue, it brought out his eyes. Plus the baseball cap was doing things for me.

“Ready to go in?” Liam asked. He was getting anxious. Liam and I were on the same page about this game as anxious and excited energy seemingly flowed out of the two of us in waves.

“Let's forking do this thing!” Cleo jumped up and yelled. She was less anxious and more excited. Cleo was optimistic. I admired it, Liam ignored it as his pessimism swept through him.

The seven of us started moving through the throngs of people toward a gate where we all put our keys and phones in bins as we went through the x-ray machines and got our tickets scanned.

Liam was absolutely tense as he led us toward our seats, his excitement manifested in his tight shoulders and the crinkle in his brow, in his clenched jaw. Niall gave me a curious look and then looked at Liam before looking back at me. I laughed and gave an amused look back to him.

We had no trouble finding our seats--the number of times Liam and I had each been here was a fair number--and once we’d established our spot, Harry and Louis set off to get us each a beer.

Cleo was directly behind me, next to Ana. Harry would sit back there with them while Niall was on one side of me, Liam on the other, and Louis was to be on the far side of Niall. It was strategic on everyone's part to place Liam and me beside each other. He and I varied our emotions on the events of the game much more so than anyone else. Liam because he’d been a Cubs fan since before he could talk and me because when I followed a team I gave them every ounce of passion I possessed. Liam and I just understood each other best when it came to events like this.

Niall nudged his knee against mine as we were listening to Cleo tell a story about a second grader and a bug at recess. He gave me a look and I understood that he was asking if I was okay. Clearly, he could sense the tension as it rolled off of me. Or maybe he was sensing Liam’s tension through me.

I gave Niall a small nod and placed my hand on top of his knee, making a horrified expression when Cleo said something of the young girl trying to get the bug to go into her ear. Niall laughed at that, as did Ana. Liam and I both made faces but didn't offer anything vocally. I wasn't sure either of us had the capacity to at the time.

It took a while, but eventually, Harry and Louis made it back to us with trays of cups that overflowed with beer. I brightened considerably at the beverage passed my way, as did Liam. We all toasted and cheersed before I lifted my cup to my lips. If my intent was to use the alcohol to warm up, it helped if I had more than one sip in me.

Niall peaked over the rim of his own cup at me as I chugged down a few gulps.

“What?” I asked.

“Nervous?” He laughed.

“Shut up,” I said lightly and took another pointed sip, keeping my eyes on his.

He just smiled back at me, amusement dancing across his features.

This is what I lived for. I was in one of my favourite places in the world, with my best friends, surrounded by an energy that just seemed to heighten and sharpen all my thoughts and emotions. I was experiencing bliss.

I thought about all of my worries over the past month. I’d been made to feel unsafe and had experienced the gnawing worry of opening up to someone and risking my established friends in the process. I had gone back and forth with myself on how to feel safe. I had slept poorly because of the unease in my brain.

I had put my body through difficult training in the gym and the torture of copious amounts stress and what it was doing to me--circles under my eyes, what felt like a small ulcer in my stomach, near constant exhaustion despite my inability to fall asleep quickly most nights, and what I had realized was a compulsive need to double or occasionally triple check my locks every night.

But right here with my friends, in this moment, I felt everything negative and stressful just leave my body. I knew the feeling wouldn't last, so I revelled in it. Didn't think about the end of it, only thought about the now.

I could feel Niall’s eyes on me, and they were often on me throughout the evening. Whenever big things happened I felt his eyes on me, gauging my reaction and taking it in. When he wasn't watching me, he was actually watching the game. Everyone--excluding me and Liam--was teasing Niall about it being the one sport he couldn't get behind and asking him if we were doing any good at changing his perception.

In a moment of clarity, between innings, I had heard him answer that if anyone could change his perception it would be the lot of us. Harry cheered at that and confused a few of the fans around us as to what was going on, and they looked around, curious to see if they were missing something.

Throughout the game as the score fluctuated--we were up first, they came back, we levelled, they went ahead again--Liam and I were in absolute agony, especially as the game came down to the last inning. I can admit though that it was an absolute cracker of a game to watch. There was a fair bit of excitement.

It was only game one of the series. and there would have to be at least three more to come no matter what, but you never want to be the first to drop a game, especially with a home-field advantage.

I really found myself while watching baseball in college. I'd take a textbook and a notebook and pretend I was going to study or do practice problems as I sat in the sun on a warm Saturday afternoon, but the books would always remain closed as I watched the game, or just closed my eyes and felt the sun soak over me.

It was a way to relax. A bit like running would help me to clear my head, baseball would give me a way to just sit and feel at peace. It was weird, my attachment to baseball. I wasn't a sports person. I didn't play anything. I ran, but I didn't do anything like volleyball or soccer or lacrosse. So the fact that I'd become so taken with baseball and being at games was a strange happening.

I felt a calm rolling over me as the first out of the bottom of the ninth came in and it looked bad for us. I shouldn't have felt calm at all. In fact, the nervous energy I felt was causing me to practically vibrate, but underneath it, I felt a feeling of peace just being here in the first place.

Liam and I were mirrors of each other. We were each leaning forward in our seats with our elbows resting on our knees, our hands locked together in front of our mouths. I felt Niall put his hand on my knee as we got a runner on base. His warm touch was spreading through me, radiating his ease into me. It wasn't working. Even Niall, the force that could calm me in any other situation, wasn't working for baseball.

We’d each had a second beer (because why not spend a small fortune on beer that's ten dollars cheaper just outside the stadium walls?) and it had made Harry very talkative behind us. Between him and Cleo, the banter was borderline funny, but I honestly kept forgetting to laugh.

Niall squeezed my knee as the next batter stepped up to the plate. We were in dangerous territory, double-play-could-go-against-us territory, a fact that even Niall knew. Louis has been explaining things to him all night. Niall knew the basics of the game, three strikes, three outs, the concept of a double play, and a home run, but Louis was getting into strategy, which I think made it more real.

Despite my nerves, I looked over at Niall. He was trying and that made me give a small smile. I looked back down at the field but nudged him with my shoulder and he squeezed my knee again.

Liam groaned as strike one flew over the plate.

And then it happened.

The crack of the wooden bat echoed around the park and the ball sailed far and fast, landing just over the wall and in the fourth row of seats.

The air was incredibly still, almost like everyone else was also having a hard time believing what we’d seen, was holding their breath. And then Liam and I snapped into the present. And so did everyone else. The thunder, the roar of the crowd was deafening as the stadium erupted in euphoria. A walk-off home run.

It was only game one, I kept telling myself, but as I leapt from my seat and yelled and clapped I couldn't help but be optimistic. Hope is the thing with the feathers.

Five nights later we were huddled in what Louis had dubbed ‘Niall’s Old Bar’ a half-block from Wrigley. Apparently, Niall still had some influence there, because unlike everyone else we didn't have to start lining up to get in at ass o’clock in the morning. We did get here a bit early, but nothing too unmanageable.

“This is batshirt crazy!” Ana called as we--the entire bar--just finished another rendition of ‘Go, Cubs, Go!’ during a commercial break in the seventh inning. The series was 3-2 in favour of the Cubs, and tonight could either see us win or see us go even and leave it to a final game seven

Everyone here was really hoping for the first option. The win it all tonight option.

The Irish Oak was packed to capacity and we were currently waiting for our food. We’d ordered almost every appetizer on the menu to split amongst the group of us all, and we were on our second round of drinks at this point.

It was a Sunday. We all had work tomorrow. I'm sure our customers at the bakery would understand, but they wouldn't be too happy. And the teachers couldn't exactly show up with raging hangovers. However, Liam seemed to incline that regardless of the outcome he would be drinking himself to sleep tonight.

We sat huddled around a tall table right below a television screen and my face was right beside a picture of Anthony Rizzo’s butt--not that I was complaining. The whole lot of us was more than content with our situation.

“I won't say I'm a fan or anything like that,” Niall trailed off as he sat down beside me. He’d gotten up to talk to the manager, thank her for letting us ‘reserve’ our spot, basically and had missed Cleo’s screech singing and Harry’s falsetto. Liam, despite his nerves, decided to participate and sang quite loudly in that baritone voice of his.

“But?” I asked as he sipped his drink.

“But being part of these past few nights has been really great craic,” he said.

“Oh fork off with the Irish slang,” Louis teased as the commercial break ended and the bottom of the inning began. The Cubs were up 5-3 but had dropped game two after leading so we were all agreeing to be cautiously optimistic. Except for Liam who was just cautious.

“I will not fork off, mate,” Niall said. “In fact just for that, I'm going to speak Irish.” Niall took a large sip of his Guinness, almost as if to prove his Irish-ness.

“You don't even know your own language.” Louis rolled his eyes. “That's an empty threat.”

“I'd learn the language just to annoy the piss out of you,” Niall said.

“Honestly, I don't doubt that you would do that.” Louis smiled and held up his glass, which Niall then clinked his own glass against, a bright smile on his face. In fact, they both wore the same expression.

Ana’s face brightened considerably and I knew what that meant: food. Sure enough, when I looked up and followed her gaze a server was coming up to us with a tray loaded with food.

It was wonderful.

Truth be told though, I was too nervous to eat. Liam looked at the food as if just seeing it made him sick. I always felt like Liam and I did our best bonding when talking about--or watching--baseball. Sure we connected on other levels, but there was this level we occupied away from everyone else in the group.

I know Liam can be quick to judge and that to others he may seem critical and impatient, but truth be told he was anything but. He was judgy because he was protective of his friends, and critical because he was protective of himself. His impatience stemmed from dealing with children all day. When he was away from that environment he preferred not to waste time and energy and just move along. Loyalty was Liam’s biggest strong suit. He was never not supportive.

I loved bonding with Liam like this. Words weren’t needed. We just silently appreciated the similarities between us and that was more than enough. Liam and I were the perfect partnership when it came to watching baseball.

Everyone else started in on whatever they could get their hands on first though. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Niall. If I had learned anything about him in the two weeks or so that we’d been together, it was that he loved food. All food. He was a vacuum.

Nothing was going for the Cubs in the seventh so it went to commercial before the start of the eighth. Two more innings of pain and uncertainty.

One of the good things about the last six nights was Niall wearing a baseball cap every single night. I couldn't tell whether or not he was doing it on purpose because of me and what I'd said about him in a cap, or because it was one of the very few items of paraphernalia he owned. It could have been a combination of the two things.

Brian had cancelled self-defence classes on Thursday so I didn't have to come up with an excuse to be late to our viewing party. I was thankful for that. The gym had sent out an email that morning to all the members of the class and my discomfort over thinking up excuses just eased away with my morning tea as Louis flitted around the kitchen.

Although I didn’t have to stress over my making excuses with my friends, I could feel the extra tension in my shoulders from not going to the class this week. It felt wrong. I missed the routine of it, of going and being in a place where I was pretty sure everyone knew--from my bruising the first class--why I was there and why being there was important to me.

If the only person who really knew was Brian and I could be free and not have to worry about keeping it a secret, then not going was like shaking a bottle of soda until the top was bound to pop off and everything would spurt out in the messiest of fashions.

Even though Brian had mentioned a noticeable change in me before and after class, I hadn’t really paid attention to just how necessary the effects were in terms of getting through a week normally. I felt antsy these past few days. I felt like I was on the edge of my seat, metaphorically speaking, and that someone would come up at any moment and pull the seat out from under me. I wasn’t looking over my shoulder every ten seconds on my walk home or on my run over the weekends, but I did feel unsettled.

I didn’t know if my friends could tell. I was getting better at keeping the secret from them, I thought. Once the initial shock of the event wore off, it became second nature to keep it to myself. If they had noticed I was on edge though recently, maybe they attributed it to the series and my stress over the outcome. I suppose that gave me a good cloaking excuse for any noticeable tension and uncomfortable behaviour.

I had been worried that by getting closer with Niall that he would begin to notice my being off; however, I’d only know Niall as what I had dubbed Post-Attack Ruby--aka my new normal. I felt like that gave me a little bit more leeway with him.

“Shirt,” Liam cursed under his breath across the table from me.

I looked over at him and then up at the television. The score was now 5-4 as the inning shifted. We would have to either maintain or add to our lead in order to win. I’d been so lost in thought that I’d completely missed what had happened.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You want anything?” Niall asked, his eyes watching me with concern as I shook off my thoughts and brought myself back into the present.

I looked down at the food on the table and made a face.

“I’m not all that hungry,” I said.

“No?” he asked, knowing I hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“I’m honestly too nervous to eat,” I said and glanced over at the screen. Still a commercial. I could breathe.

“Are you really?” he asked. I just looked at him. He smiled. “Six nights in and I still can’t believe you’re the type of person to get this nervous about baseball.”

I just shrugged while I thought about what he was saying. Even when I expressed my love for it, even when he’d teased me for being nervous the previous nights, he was still relatively new to the whole experience. He moved his hand from my shoulder to my back and leaned in and kissed my cheek.

I felt my face flush and refused to look up to see if any of our friends had seen him do it. I got hit with a napkin though and when I looked up to see who’d thrown it Cleo was giving me a smirk. I rolled my eyes and threw the napkin back at her before turning my eyes back to the television, but I had a smirk on my lips and the flush on my face as the game returned from commercial.

Adrenaline has a way of staying in your system long after the moment is over. After the euphoric yells and cheers that had bounded across the walls of the bar and echoed throughout the streets, after the songs had been sung and the celebratory beers had been downed, and the pictures in front of the stadium and the marquee had been taken I could still feel the adrenaline, the excitement as it coursed through me and gave me a jittery feeling, the good kind of jittery feeling.

Niall had walked me home. With the packed streets and the lights and the partying, it was now the early hours of the morning. I couldn’t care less that I had to be up in a few hours for my kickboxing class and then spend an entire day at work. I was on top of the world. I’d high fived so many strangers, taken pictures for others, and had just ridden a high the whole time.

I wasn’t regretting a moment of it, and I wouldn’t regret a moment of it when I woke up. I was genuinely happy at the moment. No stress, nothing to make me feel heavy, and no worries about anything… I felt light. I felt like I was walking on air as Niall held my hand and guided me through the crowded streets toward my apartment.

His cheeks had been flushed from the singing and the yelling--and the beers he’d downed--before. He was walking with a spring in his step as well, and he just listened to me as I talked through all big plays and moments from the game and doted on so many of the players. He’d nod and make affirmative sounds at all the right times, the amusement clear upon his fair features.

It was cold, colder than it had been the other night in the stadium, but with the alcohol and the excitement, I didn’t feel it. Even as the wind rushed past me, even as the leaves swirled around my feet, and my breath came out in puffs before me, I didn’t notice the cold that was trying to bite at my fingers and nip at my nose and cheeks. It was irrelevant to me in this state. Nothing could get to me.

When we got to my front door I bit my lip and once the door was open I turned to him. Seeing him in the baseball cap and the Cubs gear I couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was the adrenaline still, or maybe it was the high from the win, maybe it was the alcohol, but when I turned to say goodnight I opened my mouth and then closed it, and made a split second decision.

I grabbed him by his jacket, and pulled him inside with me, crashing my mouth against his as he tried to close the door behind himself. It took him a hot minute, his hands fumbling to complete the task while his eyes were closed and I pressed myself against him, my mouth moving against his, but the moment it was closed--and locked--his hands were on my waist as mine flew up to his face. One hand shifted and tangled itself in his soft hair, knocking his hat to the floor behind him and pulling a bit at the base of his neck, and one holding his cheek.

It felt feverish as he pushed me back against the wall and our bodies aligned, the entire lengths of us pressed together and causing a blaze to rip through me from my head down to my toes. His touch felt like it was going to chemically react with whatever fire was already going on inside me and I would explode. His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt and their contact with my skin caused me to gasp against his lips.

He took the opportunity and before I could bring my brain up to speed with what was happening, his tongue was tangled with mine in an experience that was putting everyone I’d ever kissed before in my life to shame. How dare they kiss me and have been any less than this? It felt like this was truly the first time I’d really been kissed like this, every other boy, every other kiss fading from my memories until all that remained was Niall and the feeling he was inducing as we made out in my front entryway.

I tugged his hair a bit and he growled. I swear to god my knees buckled upon hearing it, feeling it against my lips as it escaped from him. I smirked against his mouth and tugged again.

“Fork,” he gasped out as I pulled my mouth from his and began kissing my way along his chin until I reached the spot behind his ear. He shivered when my teeth grazed the spot and my tongue followed after them.

“Jesus, Ruby.” His voice was ragged, and his chest was heaving against mine as our bodies fought to intake enough oxygen to sustain us at this moment. I could feel his pulse in my lips on his neck. It was racing.

I brought my lips back to his and I could taste the many pints of Guinness he’d had earlier just as he could surely taste the whiskey I’d downed. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. Without me telling it to, one of my legs came up and wrapped around his thigh, interlocking us together and pulling him closer yet.

With another shudder he brought one of his hands up to tangle in my hair as the other pushed my shirt up a bit more and settled in the small of my back, his large hand spanning the expanse of my back as he used the leverage to keep me as close as possible.

There was something that passed between us at that moment. The vulnerability of the moment perhaps, as I realised just how long it had been since I’d done this with someone where it wasn’t a fling or a one night deal. It could have been just that at that moment I realised how much I liked him. He had said many times that he wasn’t a baseball fan, had even made some mild complaints throughout the week about how boring it was to watch a game with that many commercial breaks, but here he was six nights later with me after having watched every game at my side.

He had put up with it for me--and our friends--and that made me realise that he’d been willing to do something he wouldn’t normally do because I was invested in the outcome. He had sacrificed his time to spend time with me and to try and understand something I felt passionate about. The thought alone sent a shiver through me as together we slowed our pace and our intensity began to mellow into lingering kisses that made my mind feel like goop.

I lowered my leg back down to the floor as Niall brought his hands to my cheeks, cupping my face gently.

“I love baseball,” Niall said when he eventually pulled away.

I laughed. I laughed like Niall. I felt my head fall back against the wall as my laugh echoed around the small space we occupied and he giggled as he watched my response. When I’d calmed down a bit I looked over his face.

His cheeks were flushed a bright pink, his lips a vibrant, delicious shade of red from our kisses. It was his eyes though that sent an electric shock up my spine. They were glistening in the low light and locked onto mine I felt like I could do anything, accomplish anything in the world. It was my favourite sight in the world, the sight before me.

“Thanks for walking me home,” I said. “And thank you for watching baseball every night for almost a week. I know it’s not your favourite despite your very recent declaration otherwise.”

“I mean, I still don’t understand it, but I honestly think I might be beginning to like it,” he said, his voice somehow both light with elation and gravelly from what we’d just done. The juxtaposition of it all stirred something in me and I had to resist pulling him back against me for round two.

“You don’t have to lie.”

“M’not lying.”

“Okay.” My tone conveyed my disbelief.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday?” he asked.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday.” I nodded. I watched as he disentangled himself from me--I instantly mourned the loss of his hand against my back--and bent to pick up his hat from the floor.

“Sleep well, Ruby.” The kiss he pressed against my lips was the sweetest thing I’d ever experienced. It was sweeter than the triple chocolate brownies Louis baked every Thursday. I felt the kiss through my entire body as he brushed his thumb against my cheek and pulled back.

I nodded as he opened my door and stepped out.

“Let me know when you get home safely,” I called out to him as he opened my gate.

He gave a nod and slipped the hat back on his head before heading off into the night.

[svt-consumed]

vocal unit reaction to catching you (fem) masturbating

warning(s); contains smut/suggestive content & implications of smut

description; x member who you happen to have a crush on catches you masturbating and is turned on by it.

vocal unit // hip-hop unit // performance unit

Jeonghan

Peering through the crack in the door, Jeonghan’s eyes skimmed your body. The way you laid, hand dipping beneath your waistband, cheeks flushed from the heat – if ever you were irresistible, that was now.

He gently pushed on the door and you stilled at the sight of movement.

“Enjoying yourself?” he grinned, and your cheeks were now reddened from the humiliation of being caught. You quickly withdrew your hand and breathed a shaky breath.

“Wh-what the hell, Jeonghan, were you watching me?” You tried to tread lightly, attempting to avoid the truth that you were extremely turned on by his gaze, by the thought that he wanted to watch you pleasure yourself.

“Mhm, until you stopped. Did you need a hand to continue?”

The way his dark irises seemed to reflect delicious lust made your already wet core burn with desire.

“Maybe I do.”

Joshua

He breathed a gasp of surprise before quickly jolting away from your room. Surprised that you were so daringly letting moans pass through your lips, and yet thankful, his arousal was increasing tenfold just reimagining what he’d seen.

Should he apologise somehow? You were exposed still and if he left whilst pretending he’d seen nothing, another member may still see you.

He quietly knocked on your door. He heard you emit a squeak from inside, alongside faint rustling. Once he felt he’d given you time to straighten yourself, he entered.

“Um, I honestly did not mean to see you,” he said softly, avoiding your eyes. Nausea hit the pit of your stomach, you were trembling and sweating, afraid that the friendship you had gradually built with your crush was about to crash and burn.

“Would it be strange if I said seeing you like that really turned me on?”

He said that whilst looking directly at you and you had to swallow a shriek of happiness.

“Not at all.”

Woozi

You had decided to be a little bold and waited for Jihoon to go home before sneaking into his studio and pleasing yourself in his chair. The thrill had you turned on before you had even started.

“(F/n)!” 

You stiffened hearing a voice gasp your name. In the reflection of the glass, you could see Jihoon’s face turn gradually darker shades of red.

“U-Um...” nothing seemed to want to come out of your throat, tears stinging in your eyes. You couldn’t even turn the chair to face him.

“Th-that’s kind of hot,” he stammered, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise, turning to see a rather prominent boner pressing against the crotch of his ripped jeans.

Neither of you spoke as the sexual tension began skyrocketing. The urge to continue struck you and before you could think it through, your fingers returned to your nethers and ran through the wet folds.

“Oh, shit.”

Dokyeom

Needless to say, observing Seokmin during dance practice with his thick thighs in full display, made you hot.

You excused yourself and made an attempt to find a space to relieve the ache between your legs. The bathroom was on another floor, and you were desperate, and so the empty studio would have to suffice. You pressed your back to the wall and set to work with his legs on the mind.

As climax approached, you could not control the manner in which his name seemed to slip past your gritted teeth.

“Ah–Seokmin.”

“Uhh, y-yes?”

You snapped from your daze and locked eyes with a red-faced Seokmin, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and his shoulder pressed to the doorframe thighs tightly pressed together in an attempt to hide his erection. You were so close that by the time you noticed him you were spiralling into orgasm.

“Ohh, gosh,” he groaned hearing your own cries, “I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

Seungkwan

Seungkwan apparently did not have the forethought to decide against barging into your room at eleven at night when the rest of the residents had turned in to sleep. 

You rarely pleasured yourself, however, tonight had unluckily been the first instance of masturbation for the month. Seungkwan had unfortunately happened across you as you ground your hips against your pillow.

His cheeks turned rosy once he had deciphered the image before him, and he opened his mouth to exclaim however words caught in his throat. You halted the movements and quickly covered your bare privates with your hand.

“What the hell, why didn’t you lock your door?” He hissed, trying desperately to ignore the way his sweats were straining. In loose pants like this, one glance southward and you would meet his arousal. That, he feared, would only serve to increase tension.

“I’m sorry,” you finally responded, “although, it looks like you don’t entirely object to it.” He realised within a few seconds what you were hinting at and appeared offended.

“F-Fine. I’ll help you out, but only if you help me.”

[pocharryfics]

hi!! do u mind writing a drabble inspired by harry and his motorcycle?

At this point in your relationship, you would have thought that Harry would have learned not to question your choice in movies - if you had selected something for the two of you to watch, it undoubtedly served some purpose in one way or another. Many of your favorites growing up had become matriculated into his own film collection and more often than not, he preferred the choices you made to his own.

But when you had cued up Grease 2 instead of its more universally popular predecessor, he couldn’t contain himself and his reservations had surfaced before he had the time or forethought to stop it.

“Why’re we watchin’ that one? It’s awful.”

You had heard that phrase recited almost verbatim anytime you chose to watch this film with someone and each time you gave the same response.

“Have you ever seen Grease 2 before?”

The immediate reply was almost always the same as well.

“No.”

“No? Well how do you know it’s bad if you’ve never seen it?”

That usually begets stunned silence, and you always seize advantage of that moment of disbelief to make your case.

“The problem is that people always compare it to the first one. As a standalone film, it’s not bad at all actually and it has pretty good songs.”

Harry was still unconvinced, looking as though he’d much rather just watch the original, but held out his arms open for you nonetheless and settled in for the movie.

Around halfway through the film is when it all started to piece together for Harry and he understood your obsession with the underappreciated film. Certain songs you would hum along to or contently nod your head at, but the “Cool Rider” scene in the auditorium is what really got you on your feet.

It was your favorite song in the entire film and while Harry wasn’t as entranced by the magic of it all, he was certainly endeared by it - for the most part just enjoying you enjoying the film.

“So he’s gonna become a greaser an’ try to win her over?”

“Oh Harry, it’s so romantic, too! He becomes this super cool biker badass and sweeps her right off her feet when she’s at work,” you cooed, humming along to the final notes as Michelle Pfeiffer danced off screen.

“Mmmm. Well thanks for the spoilers, love. S’not like I wanted to see it for myself,” Harry teased, pulling you back against his chest and tucking a bit of your hair out of his face.

“Sorry, I just really love that bit. Ever since I was a little girl I always fantasized about a handsome guy on a motorcycle pulling up and picking me up from school. I know it’s silly, but watching this movie just reminds me of that.”

Harry only nods and squeezes you a bit tighter. You were being so uncharacteristically adorable that he couldn’t help but soak it in as much as he could and when that particular scene came on, he understood the appeal. The masked motorcyclist had showed up to the gas station where she worked, rescued her from rude customers, and they had literally drove off into to the sunset together. Who wouldn’t be endeared by that? He had even swooned a bit so he couldn’t imagine how dreamy this would have been to you as a little girl.

A slow smirk spread across his face as an idea occurred to him. He quickly peered down at you to make sure your eyes were still focused on the screen. When he saw that they were, he grabbed his cell and thumbed a quick message to Ben Winston - he’d need to make an unexpected visit to his home very soon.

You were unbelievably exhausted. In what could have only been a few minutes, your political science professor had droned on for what seemed like hours on a side tangent about the electoral college. Usually you wouldn’t have minded this - it contextualized the lessons as well as helped improve your understanding and gave a brief reprieve from the vigilant note taking you had been doing - but the next exam was two weeks away and there was still material that needed to be covered.

It seemed that your fellow classmates held the same reservations, some going as far as closing their laptops altogether. The chances of your professor finishing up the tangent and providing any additional information pertinent to the exam in these last few minutes of the lecture were slim.

“You got any plans after this?” Your study buddy Sylvia whispered to you, trying to discreetly pack away their belongings.

“Nah, just gonna head up to the library and look over my notes,” you quietly replied.

“Good, cause I wasn’t here last class and had missed the lecture. Can I see your notes?”

“Sure,” you hummed.

“Well that’s about it for today, folks. The study guide is posted online and I’ll be available Tuesday and Thursday during my office hours if you have any questions. See you all on Wednesday afternoon.”

The lecture hall emptied out as if the building were on fire, dozens of dead-eyed and weary academics shambling for refuge outside. You knew that available space in the library was scarce at this time of day and that if you stood any chance of grabbing a seat then you would have to get a move on soon. A much-needed caffeine fix would have to wait until then and a proper meal even more so and you hoped that the sharp hunger pains wouldn’t dull your concentration too much.

A sudden and thunderous roar ripped through the campus quad - sleek, lean, and impressively glossy, a motorcycle drifted a corner and pulled up on the curb.

The masked motorcyclist had a thousand eyes on him, most everyone in the quad staring. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the engine of the howling machine had ceased its clamor as its rider turned the key. A plethora of coeds strutted past his bike, flipping their hair and waving in hopes of catching the mystery mans attention but he seemed to only have eyes for his phone. You and Sylvia rolled your eyes and shared an exasperated laugh as the spurned ladies huffed at the rejection.

A low buzz emitted from the right pocket of your sweatpants. You slid your thumb across the screen to unlock the device and the message that read nearly made you drop the phone.

Your head whipped up from your phone and you swore you could see the smirk underneath the helmet. In retrospect, you should have known it was Harry the second he had pulled up. Those famous boots were recognizable almost anywhere and if you weren’t so exhausted you would have noticed it sooner.

Just gonna stand there and pretend like you don’t see me?

No fucking way.

[blakavalon]

No one came cursing at us about the door when we walked in. Not a good sign. Someone behind me complained about being able to see. The vampires kept the Warren dark unless they had human visitors. Photosensitive. Brae flexed their hand, conjured up the globe-light. The complaints stopped, and amazingly weren’t followed by complaints about the magic. Seeing a mage work close up can be a bit humbling.

Humbling. The Warrens were empty. Doors left open, including a fridge full of “food” left to go rank. Couches, tables, and abandoned belongings like phones and jackets in the communal living room were covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Point that this way,” Hatchet said. None of the hesitance speaking with Brae as some people had. It might have been the fear, obvious in his tone.

Brae’s fingers twisted again, casting wild shadows on the wall, and a globe-light appeared hanging over Hatchet’s shoulder.

“Thanks, uh. Buddy.” Hatchet visibly steeled himself and walked through the open doorway of what must have been someone’s bedroom. I turned to look around, watching the other Keepers break into singles or small groups and explore other parts. Some of them had the forethought to bring flashlights. Damn if I knew where the light switch was. No one else asked Brae for help, so the pair of us started to comb over the living room, crouching and squinting in the half-illuminated gloom. Dust. No footprints except those we had brought with us. No one had lived here for a while. Probably longer than it took us to notice. Keepers were notoriously busy. Vampires, notoriously secretive. It was probably them that had started the Hunter nickname. I got down on hands and knees in the dust between couches. Empty beer cans, bits of food. Some of them still enjoyed normal things. Or maybe they’d had guests. I waved Brae over and they let their globe of light settle on the floor. It made a tinking sound, like glass.

My inkling paid off. Dropped underneath a ratty couch, the black rectangle of a cell phone. I tried the buttons. Off, battery dead. Someone would have a cable. Brae had taken to wandering the room again, so I picked up the globe- as strange a sensation as I ever had, like the sun shining harsh on half-numb skin- and experimentally tossed it into the air, where it hovered, and then orbited, my head. Good enough.

“Brae, I found a phone. Got any spells to juice it?”

Brae raised a finger, and I waited for them to answer me. Until they started to shift impatiently, and pointed at the raised finger with their other hand. I squinted, moved closer.

Very slight and nearly impossible to see without the globe of light, a sheen of luminescent slime on their glove. I cursed. “Where’d you find this?”

Brae moved behind a counter, near the open-hanging fridge. Case of beer, empty. I leaned down to look- Brae grabbed my shoulder to stop me. Their first glove was gone, tainted as it was, and Brae instead wore a dark blue surgical glove. Their hand looked right, but felt wrong. Like there were too many bones in the underside. I stood.

Brae pointed to the box, pressed a fingertip to my forehead. Brought a fist up towards their mask violently, but blocked it with the other hand.

“Damn,” I said. “We should round everyone up, get the hell out of here.” I brushed off my hands, checked them for slime, and stuck two between my lips to whistle loud and sharp. Two shrieks of sound, followed by a long wail. Regroup signal. It didn’t take long for word to pass, once the first few who found me wandered over and became vectors for the message. After that, a head count and hustle out. Another headcount in the tunnel. Brae went back into Night City, returned with a trio of other mages. Two almost as tall as Brae, faces covered with identical porcelain masks. One nearly half my height, wearing a dollar store werewolf mask under a droopy hood. All four of them marched past us and stood at the rubble in the threshold of the Warren. Their hands moved in unison and something tore. When I could think again, feel again, the vault door was restored as if it was never gone. Someone groaned. Just as quickly, the mages marched out again, leaving us Keepers alone.

“Nickname?” It took me a moment to realize Hatchet was talking to me.

“Toolbox,” I said. “Nickname?”

“Hatchet,” he said, folding his arms and screwing up his face. “Most embarrassing mission?”

I glared at him, waited. He got the cue pretty easily:

“Peacoat Station,” we said in unison. “The wererats.”

He grinned, I grinned. We clasped hands, embraced. Around us, other Keepers were pairing off and doing the same thing, and a few were teaching the new kids the drill. No room for mistakes. The unlucky sap who paired off with Lena got yelled at. So, she was fine too. Much as I hated her, what happened to the vampires wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone. Speaking of vampires, I made my way back into Night City and scanned the crowd. There. He was distinctive as hell, or at least the group he danced with was. Tanner Hawksbie, and friends. Less of them these days than there used to be.

“Tanner,” I said. He kept dancing. The music in here wasn’t exceptionally loud. With a vampire’s ears, I know he heard me. “Tanner, we need to ask you some questions.” I stood a good ten feet off, and hardly raised my voice. Tanner could hear a literal pin drop from across a crowded room. He’d won bets with that trick. Not very subtle. I switched to a low whisper: “We could just call a moot, Tanner. Tell everyone where your people went.”

“You call a moot and everyone knows your people fell asleep at the wheel, Toolbox,” Tanner said, growling from just behind me. I didn’t jump. Every one of them did this trick, eventually you kind of get used to it. I turned.

“I missed the twenty-fifth, man. Got into some trouble back south.” I folded my arms and looked him over. Still the same clothes as ever. Patched jeans, oversized and fraying flannel. Band t-shirt so faded it could have been anyone’s. Lank and bleached hair hanging over his eyes. He would’ve passed as a teenager back around when I was born, if a pale one. But for the accent. I’ve never met anyone with that accent. Never seen it in movies, either. Tanner was from England. Not the England of recent or even distant memory. Rumor had it the kid was pushing two, three thousand. Damn shame. No matter how many times I tried to remind myself of his age, I saw a half-grown high-schooler, trapped in some perpetual torture.

“Twenty-sixth soon,” Tanner said. His temper cooled if you distracted him with his interests. Another reason my mind kept going back to “kid.” He put a cigarette between his lips, didn’t light it. “I’ll get you a copy, we’ll listen together. You guys got a room?”

I nodded, led him off to one of the side rooms the Keepers kept clear for emergencies. Dimly lit in deference to what might as well have been the king of all east-coast vampires. Hatchet was inside, as were Lena and one of the new kids from earlier. Getting his stripes in early.          

“Hey kids,” Tanner said, pulling up a chair for himself and slouching into it. “You found something?”

“Your empty lair,” Lena growled. She was standing with her fists balled at her sides. Shoulders back, ready for a fight. Tanner’s lazy smile only made it worse. “What the hell were you thinking, keeping quiet?”

Tanner spread his hands helplessly, smile never even twitching. His canines almost shone, huge enough to distort his lips. “I told the Bartender. If they didn’t tell you, that’s hardly our problem.”

Hatchet moved his chair closer to Tanner’s, right in front, held up a hand to stop Lena’s next words. Caught the vampire’s gaze and held it. I fought down a shudder of revulsion. I tried to be cordial- even friendly- with all the factions of Night City, but looking a vampire in the eyes still gave me the sweats. Some of them seemed to be good people, but even once you got past the fangs, the speed, even the blood-drinking, there were the eyes. Something deep in the ancestral memory, someone had told me once. Lena looked away. I watched the air between them. “You know the bartender only answers if asked, Tanner. Why didn’t you tell us?” Hatchet said, leaning forward. “Why are you here like nothing’s happened?”

Tanner leaned back and actually squirmed a little. Give Hatchet one thing, he knew vampires. “I trust the Bartender, and all the trustworthy Keepers were indisposed for some time. Yourself and Toolbox especially.” Tanner slipped back into his careful, almost archaic tones. He did not look at Lena when he failed to mention her. “If the de-facto leader of such a large portion of the American vampire- no, of the night’s children in general, stops making appearances and starts getting worried, what do you think happens? To you? To me? All of us? No. I’ll tell you. I’ve seen it. Chaos, rumors. Novels written and paranoia stirred. I can name a specific, extinguished line, for each and every credible rumor or strangely inspired fit of creativity involving my people. Not dating back to, not since. Each and every.” Tanner’s slouch disappeared, replaced by the haughty bearing one might expect from a vampire king. “I’ve moved my people to an emergency holdout, and have sent word to the other Warrens along the colonial coast. What did you find when you blew up my home?”

Maybe Hatchet wasn’t as good as he thought. He sat back, eyes on his own hands. I was- pressed against a wall, almost half the room from where I had been standing. I looked for Lena. She was leaned against a wall as well, catching her breath. The meeting room felt more like a broom closet filled with snakes. Tanner’s composure faded and with it, the sudden panic and pressure that had filled the space. He slouched again, and grinned at me. Fuck.

“We-“ Hatchet closed his eyes, shook his head. If I was fuzzy all the way over here, he must have been wrecked.

“We think they’ve been taken by the Folk, Tanner.” I stepped forward, doing my best to seem casual. “The signs are all there. Disappeared with no struggle, as if in the middle of whatever they were doing, en masse. We found a phone, Brae’s trying to get it started back up. They also found some of that slime.”

That did it. Tanner winced with disgust. Seeing something so powerful suddenly twitch with fear made my heart drop. “I can’t get them back,” he said. “That’s that.” His slouch became more pronounced. No longer an affectation. “This will cause panic, Keepers. What shall we do?”

“We fight them,” Lena said. She had recovered fully. Back straight, scowl right where I thought it would be. Hatchet and I still looked like sweaty hell. “Or else they keep taking people. Toolbox lost a town on his last run. Gearhead found a farm taken over, almost died. With your people being taken, that’s five in the past few months. That we know about.”

“That we know about.” Tanner massaged his temples. “Get your people. Trusted ones. Get ready. I’ll do the same. One of you may want to broach this with the dogs. They wont speak to me.” On shaking legs and looking more like a child than I had ever seen him, Tanner Hawksbie strode out of the room. Once the door was closed, Lena moved over to a pile of boxes and leaned over them.

“Kept your composure real well, kid,” she said. “I bet no one even noticed you dive back here.” The trainee poked his head up from behind the boxes and smiled apologetically.

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