#they totally fell completely in love after like. three months

[amethystwrytes]

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum. 

“Can you stop please?” 

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands. 

“...Sorry…” 

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade. 

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber. 

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign. 

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse. 

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes. 

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room. 

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again. 

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again. 

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?” 

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.” 

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.” 

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks. 

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation. 

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something. 

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk. 

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.” 

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.” 

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not. 

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.” 

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?” 

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter. 

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump. 

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.” 

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’ 

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing. 

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?” 

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk. 

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?” 

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.” 

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes. 

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic. 

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.” 

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates. 

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff. 

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.” 

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down. 

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.” 

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.” 

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.” 

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers. 

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.” 

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains. 

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?” 

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.” 

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses. 

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer. 

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles. 

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks. 

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him. 

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.” 

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it. 

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh. 

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him. 

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on. 

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile. 

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out. 

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg. 

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?” 

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.” 

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself. 

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable. 

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again. 

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades. 

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee. 

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up. 

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack. 

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing. 

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?” 

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment. 

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle. 

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease. 

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head. 

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit. 

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side. 

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment. 

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?” 

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself. 

“Never something you what?” he presses. 

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.” 

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him. 

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares. 

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves. 

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.” 

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.” 

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs. 

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego. 

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins. 

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder. 

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle. 

“Is this your building?” he points. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers. 

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard. 

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today. 

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag. 

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” 

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished. 

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.” 

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes. 

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.” 

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks. 

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.” 

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.” 

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!” 

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door. 

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying. 

“Already?” he looks at you. 

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.” 

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him. 

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon. 

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?” 

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.” 

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?” 

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone. 

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask. 

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares. 

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.” 

“Good, shall we?” 

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?” 

“No.” 

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back. 

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?” 

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down. 

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles. 

“I’ll get those right out.” 

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.” 

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.” 

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.” 

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?” 

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.” 

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?” 

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly. 

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table. 

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon. 

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.” 

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu. 

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug. 

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse. 

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door. 

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away. 

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again. 

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues. 

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing. 

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth. 

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?” 

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips. 

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car. 

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.” 

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in. 

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition. 

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up. 

“Uh…mine… mine I think.” 

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him. 

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness. 

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?” 

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist. 

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel. 

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans. 

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably. 

“God…” 

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking. 

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily. 

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth. 

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road. 

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours. 

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely. 

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth. 

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?” 

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs. 

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease. 

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.” 

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!” 

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room. 

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer. 

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt. 

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.  

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you. 

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…” 

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly. 

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs. 

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again. 

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind. 

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it. 

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster. 

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts. 

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest. 

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands. 

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.” 

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?” 

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.” 

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you. 

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.” 

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully. 

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

[hannie-dul-set]

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST.

p — SHEN QUANRUI x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, lovestruck! ricky trying his darnest to be cool. w — swearing, secondhand embarrassment what did you expect from me. 2.8k words.

note — rewriting the backstory of his leopard print shirt. my loser idolverse is expanding. no one is safe. who should i throw into the depths of patheticness next.

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists.

what need is there for a list of things he wants and wants to do before he dies when he can get and do everything he wants in an instant? if he wants to go bungee jumping, he can go to gangwon-do this afternoon. if he wants to date, he’s got a couple dozen numbers he can pick and choose to call. if he’s craving for authentic italian wine right out of the cellar, he can book a flight and visit all of europe with his phone as his only luggage. 

he lacks nothing, and therefore he wants nothing. ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists— he didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

there’s only one thing he’d like to tick off before he dies. one thing he wants as soon as possible. something that isn’t instantaneously achievable. something that unfamiliarly feels out of his grasp.

ricky, more than anything in the world, wants you to take him fucking seriously.

“you’re so pretty today.” 

is what he says, the moment you enter the office. well, two moments after you enter the office because he had to take the first moment to admire how pretty you are before verbalizing it. he’s down horrendous, he knows— totally outside of the image he’s perfectly curated for the past six months since entering university. you’re the chair of his department’s council, a third year, and by some mystical force or another (read: being stupidly whipped) he volunteered to help prepare for a department event and managed to drag the rest of his friends into it.

said friends being gyuvin and gunwook, who are looking at him in judgment and disgust after completing his daily routine of complimenting your face.

“aw, how cute,” is your reply. ricky wracks his brain for another word for pretty, but you’re quick to move one and leave him in the dust. “thank you, ricky! you’re so sweet. anyway, matthew, how’s the—”

gyuvin snorts. “hey, at least she thinks you’re cute.” ricky throws him a punch but it falls weak from the mental damage. 

cute. he hates it. he’s grown to hate it after it became the symbol of you thinking of him as nothing but your cute junior. are his daily compliments not enough of a giveaway that’s he’s lowkey fucking in love with you? what else do you want? a truckload of roses? a barbershop quartet illustrating through song how stupidly down bad ricky shen is for his unbothered senior?

knowing you, even if he gets on stage in front of the whole university and perform a three-act play of how he fell, head first with scraped knees, into the tunnel of torture that is you and your pretty smile, you’d probably just ruffle his hair and coo, “good job! you’re so talented, angel!” because he’s so cute, so lovely, so never going to be boyfriend-able in your eyes and it eats his despairing soul.

maybe if he rips his heart out of his chest and you see the gaping, you-shaped hole it’ll leave behind, you might finally get the idea.

“quit being a drama queen,” gunwook says, throwing a ball at ricky’s bedroom door that’s been locked shut for a good hour now. it bounces right back into his palm and gyuvin is laying flat on the floor next to him. “it could be that she knows you’re into her, but she’s just trying to reject your advances gently because she doesn’t want to hurt you.”

gunwook and gyuvin hear a crash from inside ricky’s room. 

“that’s— that’s, no. i don’t even want to think about that!”

they’re waiting for him to finish changing (if he is just changing. the crashes in his room are becoming sources of concern). you invited them for a nice buffet dinner to celebrate the success of the event. however, the three of them are already thirty minutes late for the restaurant appointment, and hanbin had to come over and pick them up with taerae in tow after hearing the news that ricky shen— cool guy extraordinaire— is having a breakdown over a girl. 

there are now four men waiting in front of ricky’s locked bedroom. gyuvin gets sick and tired and starts banging on the door. “hurry up! do you want to keep the love of your life waiting?”

“damn, you guys were serious,” taerae posits. “is he actually in love with her?”

“i’m afraid so,” gunwook solemnly shakes his head. 

hanbin hits another concerned knock on his door, and lo and behold, ricky finally cracks open his bedroom door and walks out—

walks out in an ensemble that they can only unanimously describe as jarring. 

leopard print. leather pants. gold chain necklace. a pair of shades are hanging on the way too low cut shirt and they wonder if he’s gonna wear them indoors. he’s got a leather jacket folded over his arm and it’s twenty four fucking degrees.

“what do you think?” ricky asks, eyes proud, expectant, and sparkly. hanbin doesn’t have the heart to break it to him. “i read somewhere that the pattern symbolizes, uh, confidence and sexiness, i think. this will make her stop thinking that i’m cute, right?”

“yeah,” gyuvin replies. “she’ll think you’re hideous instead.”

“google tells me that the leopard print is a symbol of, and i quote, absolute femininity.” gunwook has his eyes trained on his phone. he looks up and gives ricky a once-over. “if you’re trying to go for the femme fatale look, then you’re doing a good job.”

it takes a moment for ricky to react.

when he does, his reaction consists of grabbing onto the hem of his allegedly ugly shirt and starts pulling it over his head.

“whoa, whoa, whoa— what are you doing?!”

gunwook quickly tries to stop him from stripping. gyuvin is laughing his ass off. taerae has a hand covering his mouth. hanbin is stressed. “quit picking on him! ricky, you look fine!” ricky is not fine. his styled hair is not disheveled and he’s visibly upset and sulking. gyuvin is losing his mind. he’s on the floor and hitting the ground.

“are you trying to be cute right now?” taerae asks. this just scrunches up ricky’s brows even more and makes his bottom lip jut forward.

“n...no…?”

“well, shit,” taerae laments. “it’s a genetic disease. she’s never gonna take you seriously.”

the only emotion ricky knows is despair.

he’s supposed to be hot and sexy and handsome, why can’t you see that? do you have a pink filter when you look at him, or something? is that it? that’s gotta be it, right? because why else would you be so unaffected when he feigns nonchalance, brushing through his hair at a precise timing when he notices you starting to turn to his direction. it’s your heart that should be beating like crazy when he greets you with a half-smile and a nod— not his, not his, not his when you return it with a full-smile, so bright and beaming, of your own.

“oh, you’re finally here!”

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists. he lives in the moment. he doesn’t want things so desperately to the point where he writes them down on a checklist taped to his desk. the list definitely doesn’t have the words “get miss department chair to fall in love with me” written on it with scrawled letters. and he doesn’t didn’t give himself a deadline to date you by the end of the year.

he’s given himself until the day he dies because the moment he met you was the first time he imagined watching someone walking down the aisle. 

yes, he’s down bad. yes, he sings hopelessly devoted to you in the shower five times a week and replaced the word you with your name. yes, gyuvin has a recording. 

“ah, we’ve been waiting for you, kids,“ you say once they’ve all settled on their seats. kids. he scoffs. insult to injury. he’s pouting and picking on a plate of galbi. he feels like shit even though you’re sitting right across him all pretty and sweet like the strawberry shortcake you ordered— which he’s trying his damn best to not steal a slice from because he’s pretty sure you’re just gonna go, “oh! you really like strawberries, don’t you? so cute,” and he’d much rather choose physical over emotional torment, thank you very much.

“they were caught up in something,” taerae responds to your initial statement. your eyes gloss over them with curiosity.

“why? what took you guys so long?”

four sets of eyes are on ricky and his patterned shirt. the bossam wrap in his mouth won’t swallow down his throat. it was too late for him to change out of the symbol of femininity. mid-strip, hanbin got a text from you so he got dragged out, guilty in leopard prints and gold, out of his apartment.

don’t you fucking dare, ricky glares at the suspicious look gyuvin is wearing as he brings a glass of water to his lips. gyuvin clears his throat, “we had to wait for ricky who was dressing to impress y—” and is subsequently elbowed and chokes on his water.

hot. ricky feels hot. not the sexy kind, but the icky embarrassing kind because he wants to cover his burning face and stab gyuvin with a fork in the process.

“oh?” you voice out from across the table. you’re plucking out wads of tissue paper for a dying gyubin but your eyes are trained on him. oh my god. he wants to rip this shirt off and die, but he can’t do that. he can’t. he hasn’t been working out enough lately due to stress. “not everyone can pull off animal prints. it looks really good on you.”

huh.

“and you’re not wearing your usual silver! you look cool today, ricky.”

oh.

what.

“you really think so?” gyuvin, who has now recovered, eggs you on further in behalf of his malfunctioning friend. there’s steam rising to the ceiling and it’s not from the open grill. he exchanges glances with gunwook and taerae. they catch the signal and press on. “doesn’t he look—”

“—would you dare say—”

“—handsome?”

“hot?”

“sexy?”

you let out something in between a cough and a laugh. 

they don’t miss the flustered jitter filtering the sound coming out of your throat.

mission success.

“ahaha, what are you kids saying?” ricky doesn’t miss it either. the initial shock of you not calling him cute has worn off and now it’s up to him to finish what his friends have started. he doesn’t miss the way you try to brush them off while fanning your face with your free hand, the way you reach out for a glass of water with the other and there’s a nervous bob in your throat when you swallow. “a—anyway, let’s make a toast for the success of our event!”

when he clinks his glass with yours, ricky  maintains eye contact amidst the noise of the cheers. his gaze is deep and you’re caught off guard— escaping with a laugh and turning away as you down half of your beer glass in one go. holy crap. holy shit, it’s working.

ricky can see it. there’s hope for his bucket list. he’s gonna swear by leopard shirts and gold chain necklaces if he continues to get this kind of reaction from you.

“it’s not because of the ugly shirt.”

gyuvin snaps him back to sanity once dinner concluded and they start leaving the restaurant. “it’s because we manipulated her brain waves into finally noticing that you’re hot,” gunwook inserts. they’re all outside now. you’re bidding the other members goodbye and gunwook nudges him forward. “you’re welcome. you owe us a meal.”

now, even with the newfound confidence and hope, ricky’s knees still buckle when he approaches you from behind. why is the back of your head still pretty? why?

at the moment, it’s taerae’s turn to receive your goodbyes, wedged between two cars, one of them his. he notices ricky’s looming nervous wreck of a presence from over your shoulder. “ah, and this is my cue to leave,” he says. “thanks for the meal, miss chair. get home safe.”

“you too, taerae! thanks!”

when you turn around, you bump into him. maybe he intended it, maybe not, but god damn the uncharacteristic flutter of your surprised eyes is destroying his plans to act cool, act nonchalant, act totally unaffected with how prettily you’re looking at him under the dim parking lot lights and the night sky. “oh!” you exclaim after reformatting, after putting on your doting senior voice again and it kills him because that’s a night of progress down the drain. “are you kids heading out now? oh, sorry, this is your car, right? i’ll get out of the way.”

he frowns. totally uncool, perfectly non-nonchalant, and completely affected but he doesn’t care anymore. 

“what do you think of me?”

the words jump out before he knows it. screw his bucket list. he’s gonna proclaim his undying love for you even if it kills him.

you blink. “what?” a laugh bubbles from your throat— a mix of trying-to-brush-him-off but nervous at the same time. “ricky, what do you mean?”

his face is knotting up. he’s totally pouting right now which he’d rather be caught dead than doing, but he’s now twice the dead man. ricky takes a step forward. you take a step back until no more steps can be taken because your back hits against his car, and he’s grasping at the straws desperate to get even an ounce of a hint of a sign that you’re finally taking him seriously. “what do you think of me?” he repeats, voice a little lower this time. your expression is completely taken over by peaches of fluster, this time. no sign of the composure you’ve usually perfectly maintained.

“oh, uhm.” your hands are unsure and held hostage in the air because his arms serve as a barricade around you, palms pressed tightly against the cold glass of the front seat window. you’re nipping at your bottom lip. ricky just died thrice. “what—what i think of you? well, uh, you’re a very good, very cute, very hardworking junior that i adore, and i—i appreciate all the help you’ve offered to the counci— oh!”

ricky lets out a noise and buries his nose into the crook of your neck, arms that were once caging you are now completely wrapped around your waist. he’s putting all of his weight onto you. he is a corpse. he mumbles something unintelligible into you skin and you ask him to repeat it. “i don’t like it,” he says more clearly, still muffled, whiney all the same. “i’m not cute. i’m cool and handsome and totally in love with you but you just don’t get it.”

it’s quiet. ricky is anticipating the worst, which would be you calling him lame and a loser, but you don’t do that. you don’t push him off either.

“how can i not think you’re cute when you act like this?”

instead you pull him in closer. his eyes widen, and he feels your fingers digging into his hair, a tender touch on his nape, and he feels himself melting and turning into stone at the same time. 

“i never thought you were being serious every time you greeted me by calling me pretty. i thought you were just being playful and trying to earn extra points from me,” you hum. he sinks further. the only thing propping him up is you. “but calling someone pretty every day is barely a confession, ricky. how was i supposed to get anything from that? gosh, you’re so cute.”

“it usually works,” he mumbles. he doesn’t want to show you his face. he probably looks stupid right now. “i thought my new shirt worked too. gyuvin and gunwook don’t agree.”

“i think it’s cool.”

you finally pry him off, hands on his shoulders and he feels himself buckling. he’s pretty sure he looks stupid right now— pink and flushed and dizzy, but your face harbors no judgment. “i think i prefer the shirt owner over the shirt though.” only a familiar gaze of fondness and god, he’s so in love and you finally understand that. “now, why the hell are gyuvin and gunwook still loitering out here?”

ricky didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

now, he’s got that one thing crossed out. he’s thinking of adding more.

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[littlemissayu]

As you first anon (with a emoji) it a random coincidence that i refer to myself as 🎐 when a windchime is also tge gif on your masterlist

This was a coincidence i swear

Also do you mind writing fluff for riddle and floyd where its poly? Like the reader is dating both of them so they are also dating eachother

I hope this isnt too weird-

A/N: Hey🎐 anon! And no, this request isn't weird,I'm glad to write it for you!! I really wanted to write some fluff lately so this is a great chance

GN!Reader

POLY!Riddle Rosehearts x Reader x Floyd Leech

The way this all started is when you had a crush on Riddle first, then you confessed to him and he accepted your confession

(BTW this was after Azul's overblot) Before you started dating Riddle you had already developed feelings for Floyd but since you already started dating Riddle you thought they would BOTH think your weird for liking both of the them the same exact way so you said nothing

Riddle's feeling for Floyd developed for a long period of time because as much as Floyd annoyed him he also admired his free spirit and carelessness

Riddle didn't want to say anything because he was dating you and you might find him disgusting for liking Floyd even though he's dating you

Floyd had feelings for both of you, he didn't know where they came from all he knew is that he woke up one day and it hit him like a truck, he knew that he liked the both of you

You were so smart, beautiful, talented, kind, adventurous, and just all around incredible

Riddle's smart, passionate, determined, hardworking, reliable, and so adorable

Out of all three of you Floyd was the first to admit his feelings he dragged the two of you off to a secluded space where he told you two what it was; how he liked both of you equally

After Floyd said his peace you said yours but Riddle needed some time to think

Riddle didn't know what to think. Both of his crushes(one already his partner)

At first he started to think of what his mother would think but quickly strayed from his though remembering it's his life not his mother's

So he made his decision and wanted to talk to the two of you

"So how would this work?"

After a multitude of ups and downs, trails and errors, smiles and tears.

After a few months you all got used to your relationship.

Every morning you guys would meet up for breakfast, walk to you classes together, then spend your late afternoons and evenings doing homework together, eating dinner and cuddling.

"Good-morning~" You greet your lover "Good-morning Dearest" Riddle smiled. You hugged him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Strawberry chapstick this morning?" he guesses a little smirk on his lips. "Ding!Ding!Ding!" you too softly giggled. "Whatcha giggling about, shirmpy, golfish?" you hear a voice from above you; your other lover comes up from behind you and squeezes you a Riddle tight giving you both a soft kiss on the forehead. "Good morning Floyd"said Riddle smiling up at him "Morning~"

"Since we're all here let's head to breakfast" "Sounds good to me" "Lead the way!~" You all start walking off to the dining hall to get in a good breakfast before you all separate for your classes of the day.

~After School~

As you're walking to the hall of mirrors so that you, Floyd, and Riddle can meet up for you daily homework date. You stopped familiar frames walking your usual path. So you start running at top speed to hug pounce onto them. Luckily no one fell and got hurt.

"Hi Shrimpy!~" "Hello Darling" your lovers greeting you. "Hi! You guys ready to do some homework?" "Always" "Ehh" you giggled at their opposite responses. They may seem to be the complete and total opposite from each other. They may even seem to be too different to stand each other but the 3 of you don't care if it seems like everyone else thinks the 3 of you aren't meant to be. Your love for each is binding so if one goes somewhere the other two will follow in pursuit.

~Bonus~

The three of you were found asleep while cuddling each other on the floor of Riddle's room. You were between the two of them, Floyd was on your right while Riddle was on your left. Ace was stopping by to ask you for help on the homework(aka copy off your sheet)but decided this would be a good thing to blackmail you with so he makes sure to take a picture, take a picture of the homework the get out of there.

I hoped you liked it!!!

Main Masterlist

Octavinelle Masterlist

Heartsabyul Masterlist

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

Requesting Rafe Cameron

Could you do a fluff!Rafe when he comes to visit you at work for the first time and all the co-workers are surprised at how hot he is.

I HAVE READ ALL YOU FICS AND THEY ARE AMAZING, IM SO IN LOVE. DEFINITELY ONE OF MY FAVOURITE WRITERS OF TODAY

Meeting Rafe

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing(s): Rafe x reader

Warnings: Sexual References, kissing

Summary: Readers dad meets Rafe for the first time.

Masterlist

6 Months Ago……

Y/n could never have envisioned in a million years that she would find herself in a relationship, let alone the KOOK PRINCE RAFE CAMERON.

Y/n was quite introverted, keeping mostly to herself and interacting primarily with her family. Her job was just as unremarkable; she worked in administration, handling tasks like bill payments and data input – essentially everything that typically comes to mind when you think of administrative work. This was all for her family's business.

Leaving school after completing 10th grade, she entered the workforce directly. It was her father's business, and though she wasn't officially a personal assistant, she was practically treated like one. Y/n felt like she was constantly under her father's thumb, especially since her parents had separated about three and a half years ago.

As she turned 21, she had hoped for more respect and independence, but the reality proved to be quite the opposite. However, one night, she took a daring step and sneaked out of her father's house to attend the Annual Bonfire at the beach.

Dressed in a white top, denim shorts, and a lovely flowery headpiece, even though she didn't know many people there, she felt that if she didn't break free from her father's shadow soon, she'd remain trapped in his world.

As Y/n arrived at the bonfire, the festivities were in full swing, with intoxicated individuals scattered all around. She made her way to the keg to grab a drink, completely unaware that from the moment she walked in, Rafe Cameron had not taken his eyes off her. He was captivated by the way her long hair gracefully fell over her shoulders, the rhythmic sway of her hips to the music, and her sun-kissed figure.

Rafe made his way through the crowd, leaving his group of friends behind, determined to approach her. Just as he was about to tap her on the shoulder, Y/n unexpectedly turned around and their collision resulted in her spilling her drink all over him.

"OMG, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, reaching for some napkins on the table to help wipe him down.

"I totally ruined your shirt," Y/n continued to apologise, her voice filled with concern.

Rafe gently took the napkin out of her hand and reassured her, saying, "Hey, it's all good, don't worry about it." 

Y/n looked up and found herself gazing into his stunning deep blue eyes. In that instant, they both locked eyes and shared a profound connection. It felt like love at first sight.

With a playful grin, Rafe quipped, "If it was my favourite shirt, it would be a different story." 

Their laughter filled the air, and Y/n placed the used napkins behind her and tossed them into the bin, breaking the moment but feeling a newfound connection with Rafe.

"I'm Y/n, by the way," she introduced herself, extending her hand for a handshake.

"Rafe," he replied, shaking her hand with a smile. "I know," he chuckled.

He then asked, "Do you want to dance?" setting his cup down.

"Sure," she replied, and he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the dance area, the start of a night they would both remember.

Dancing to the rhythm of "Promiscuous," Rafe's hands found Y/n's waist, gently pulling her closer to him. She welcomed his advances, placing her hands behind her head and on his neck. As the alcohol began to take effect, Y/n pressed her hips back into him, their bodies moving in sync.

Rafe leaned down and started placing soft, wet kisses along her neck. Y/n tilted her head to grant him better access, and he took the opportunity to gently suck on her nape just above her breast.

With a firm grip on her hips, he pulled her back onto his bulge, their intense attraction growing with each passing moment.

Y/n spun around, her right hand finding its place on Rafe's neck, and she crushed her lips into his with a kiss that was soft yet filled with intense passion. He gripped her butt and signalled for her to jump, a gesture she eagerly followed. They left the bustling party behind, seeking a quieter spot.

Leaning against a tree, Rafe's fingers started tracing circles up the inside of her thigh, causing her to release a soft moan of pleasure. Suddenly, he withdrew from the kiss, and Y/n felt the loss of his lips on hers. Concerned, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just... I don't want to go too fast," Rafe explained. "I really like you, and I don't want our first time to be at some party when we're both drunk."

Y/n smiled in agreement and gave him a gentle peck on the lips, her hands resting on his chest. "Besides, I would like to take you on a date first," he added.

Their moment was interrupted by fireworks being set off in the distance. Y/n responded with enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around him and saying, "I'd love to go on a date with you." Their connection deepening, they continued to enjoy the magical moment together. 

Today…..

As Y/n's alarm blared, she reluctantly got out of bed and began the process of getting ready for work. Today was a bit different because her father would also be at the office. She had a quick breakfast of toast and prepared a takeaway coffee. Y/n had told her father that she would be picked up after work, but she didn't mention that her boyfriend, Rafe, would be the one picking her up.

Y/n and Rafe had been dating since their very first date, and he treated her like she was a princess. He spoiled her, buying her anything she wanted, and he respected her in ways she had never experienced before. Their love had grown stronger with time, and Y/n cherished every moment they spent together.

Rafe was undeniably wealthy, but his financial status never altered the way he behaved when she wasn't around. He was genuine, transparent, and always open and honest, with no secrets between them. Given his family's substantial wealth, they were often targeted by people looking to benefit from it. Rafe had his own set of bodyguards, and when they began dating, Y/n also had the protection of these bodyguards, ensuring their safety and privacy in the midst of the world's expectations and temptations.

Around 3:00 PM, three black SUVs pulled up in front of the office. One of Y/n's co-workers noticed this on the security camera and alerted everyone, saying, "Are you guys seeing this?" He drew everyone's attention to the SUVs parked outside.

A man in a black suit, sporting black sunglasses and an earpiece, emerged from one of the cars. This was James, the head of Rafe's security team. He positioned himself near the passenger door, standing on guard, prepared for any potential trouble or security concerns.

*Ding* Message from Rafe 😘

Rafe: We are out the front baby:)  Y/n: I can see that!! 😉 Rafe: WYM? Y/n: Cameras! Rafe: 😂😂 Y/n: Everyone thinks someones going down. Rafe: Someone is…. Y/n: What? Who? Rafe: Me on you tonight 👅 Y/n: 🤤🤭 Y:n See you soon

As the discussions about the SUVs outside continued, Y/n's co-worker, Dillon, arrived in the work van. He couldn't help but notice the man standing near the cars and briefly exchanged a look with him. Dillon grabbed his belongings from the van's passenger side and entered the office, placing his things on his desk. His attention was now fixed on the office's surveillance cameras, observing the scene outside.

Dillon couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "Who is that?" He began pacing around the office, periodically glancing out the window, clearly concerned about any potential developments or approaching individuals.

"Somebody should go out and see what they're doing," Y/n's father remarked with a hint of humor. The rest of the team started playfully pointing to each other, like children discussing who would confront the "bad people" outside.

However, Y/n rose from her seat and walked towards them, saying with a smirk, "I'll go." This unexpected decision left them all surprised, and they collectively expressed their concerns, as if they were about to advise her not to go. Turning to face them, Y/n reassured them, "It's okay; they're here for me." With that, she left the office to confront the situation outside.

As Y/n walked out and James gave her a kiss on the cheek, the onlookers in the office still wore puzzled expressions. Y/n greeted James, asking, "Hey, how are you?" and taking a step back.

James responded with a laugh, "Not much today, just listening to Rafe talk about you all day." The playful exchange revealed the camaraderie within the group.

"I heard that," Rafe chimed in as another guard opened the car door for him. He got out of the car, approaching Y/n to give her a kiss on the lips. Breaking away from the kiss, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Y/n chuckled and leaned into his side, saying, "Sounds like a great day." Their affectionate reunion showcased the strong bond between them.

"When do you finish, baby?" Rafe inquired.

"Right now, I'll go get my stuff," Y/n replied, leaving his side and heading back inside to collect her belongings.

Y/n’s Father’s POV

"I'll go," Y/n declared as she walked past her father. He shouted back, "What?"

Y/n reassured, "It's okay, they are here for me." She then left the office, and her father and co-workers couldn't help but watch the scene unfold on the surveillance cameras. They observed as a man in a suit kissed her on the cheek and they engaged in conversation, appearing to know each other. Another man exited the car and also kissed her, which left everyone in the office exclaiming, "OMG."

One of her co-workers, Dillon, asked, "Is that her boyfriend?" To which the father replied, "I don't know?" The situation had them all confused, and they anxiously awaited Y/n's return, trying to make sense of what they had witnessed.

—

Y/n re-entered the office and noticed everyone staring at her. Her father's voice held a tinge of anger as he inquired, "Who is that?"

Calmly, Y/n replied, "That's my boyfriend," and gestured with her index finger towards the outside.

Her father stepped forward, asking rather abruptly, "Are you going to introduce me to him?"

Y/n responded with a hint of humor, "I wasn't planning to yet, but I can tell from your reaction that you'd like to."

"Of course, I want to meet him and that guy in the suit who kissed you!" her father exclaimed, his anger evident. Feeling his emotions, Y/n agreed and instructed him to wait there.

She then returned outside to Rafe and James, saying, "Hey, my father wants to meet you," as she intertwined her fingers with Rafe's. Rafe asked, "Only if you want me to?" to which Y/n nodded. "You too, James, he insists," she added, conveying her father's desire to meet them both.

As they followed Y/n inside and met her father, she introduced Rafe by saying, "Dad, this is my boyfriend, Rafe." Rafe extended his hand, and Y/n's father shook it. Y/n continued, "And this is James, Rafe's... our bodyguard," the last part said a bit more quietly, though her father certainly heard it.

Y/n's father, always inclined to assume the worst, became angry and questioned, "Why would you need a bodyguard? Are you putting my daughter in danger?"

Rafe calmly reassured him, saying, "I would never put Y/n in danger; she is safe with us. You don't have to worry." He placed an assuring arm around Y/n's waist.

Y/n sensed the tension and intervened, saying, "Okay, we should go," as she stepped away to collect her belongings. Rafe and her father remained facing each other in a tense silence.

One of Y/n's co-workers, Dillon, pulled her aside and said, "Just thought I'd let you know we all think your boyfriend seems really nice. And he's really good-looking too," with a sly grin.

Y/n smirked back at Dillon and replied, "Thank you." She then came back to Rafe, said her goodbyes to her father, and walked out of the office behind James. James opened the car door for them, and Rafe helped her into the car before following her.

They settled in the back of the car, holding each other after the rather strange conversation. Y/n let her shoulders drop and apologised, saying, "Sorry about him."

Rafe reassured her, "Don't apologise for him, baby," and gave her a hug. 

His hand brushed her face, and he leaned in for a kiss. His hand traced up her thigh and squeezed it. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, leaving small purple marks.

"I love you," Y/n said, pulling his hair gently.

Rafe responded with affection, "I love you too, and as soon as we get home, I'm going to show you just how much." Their connection remained strong, and they looked forward to a more private and intimate moment together tonight.

📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢💑❤️📆🏢

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024,#20 do-over

Apparently there will be another AU happening. No beds but tats.

A Tattoo Shop AU.

I've no idea where this will go so I'll surprise us all. LOL

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part One (do-over)

Dr John Watson stood in front of 221 Baker Street and – for the first time in a very long time – felt anxious.

He was wondering why this actually happened to him right now. The London afternoon was mild and sunny, summer was about to begin and yet, an aura of foreboding seemed to hover around the well-kept Victorian building.

John shook himself mentally. This was completely ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of. There was no danger.

For God’s sake, he had fought for Queen and Country in Afghanistan, had saved several lives and countless limbs in the field hospital and also on the battlefield under heavy fire. He had not felt anxious then. Wary, yes. Cautious, of course. High on adrenaline, surely.

He had been shot in the shoulder while he was on a scouting mission with his team and had woken up in his own field hospital. When his fellow army doctor had disclosed to John in blunt medical terms that he might lose his arm, then John had been frightened.

After a long rehab process the arm was functioning again but John had been honourably discharged because of an intermittant tremor in his hand that made him unsuitable to work as a field surgeon.

Two years ago, John had returned to London and after struggling for three months he had found work as a physician in a local clinic. He had soon met a wonderful nurse named Mary Morstan, fell in love with her and they had married quickly.

Which brought John back to the reason why he was standing in the middle of the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street, staring at the tattoo shop like a village idiot.

The tattoo on his right upper arm needed a do-over.

“White Pony Tattoo” was not what John had expected. It was located in a small shop with a red awning above its single window. There were no flashing neon signs or colourful and enlarged pictures of tattoo designs the artist had created. No advertising of the shop’s services whatsoever. Everything was clinical and sterile, even off-putting. Had it not been for the single metal sign placed in the middle of the window, no one would have thought a tattoo shop would be behind it.

Maybe it was the sign that made John feel so anxious.

It read “White Pony Tattoo” and showed a stylized white running pony on its right side. On the left the sign read “no arguing, no crying, no boring designs”. This did not bode well. Just by the look of it, John would never have thought about setting a foot in there.

Yet, John had done his fair share of internet research to find the best tattoo shops in London because he really did not want some would-be tattoo artist botch up his skin.

White Pony Tattoo had topped several lists. The only shortcoming that people regularly mentioned was that the artist was capricious. The lesser polite said that he was a total dick. However, Sherlock’s – John assumed it was a pen name -artistry was highly acclaimed and he had won several competitions over the last years. Getting an appointment was difficult and being accepted as a client was even more so. But sometimes, when Sherlock was interested enough, he accepted walk-ins.

John straightened his back, raised his chin, took a deep breath and opened the door of the tattoo shop. A melodious door bell chimed and announced his presence.

IIt was cool and dim inside the shop and it smelled faintly of a fresh lemon fragrance. A thick purple curtain behind the wooden counter closed off the rearmost part of the shop. Quiet classical violin music played in the background.

“Hello?” John called out, taking off his jumper to let his tattoo show. “Is there anybody here?”

The curtain moved and a man stepped up to the counter. It was easy to recognize Sherlock from the few pictures John had seen on the internet.

“Hello, I’m here for a do-over…” John began.

“Shut up.” Sherlock commanded. His baritone voice was silky and opulent just like the luscious black curls that framed his aristocratic and unusual face.

John was so surprised that he closed his mouth with an audible plop.

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John’s face and upper arms, then the rest of his body. Piercing blue grey eyes took in every detail, precise like an x-ray machine or better, like a computer tomograph. They missed nothing, pinning John to the spot and stripping him down to his very bones, unable to hide anything. It was uncanny. Disconcerting.

“Firstly, it’s called a cover-up, as you should very well know.”

Sherlock chided, frowning. His voice rumbled like the high-end engine of a race car and filled John with an unknown desire.

“Secondly, I’ve already deduced what you want. I won’t do it because it’s boring.”

+++++

The one(s) who know and tell me where the shop's name comes from will get a cameo in this AU (nothing bad, I promise). Are you game?

tagging @peageetibbs @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @raina-at

[lucidlivi]

Chosen For Pleasure (XIV)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @ladysparkles78 @suckitands33 @little-x-wolf @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @lessons-of-red @jamerlynn @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @deans-baby-momma @willow-sages @ritz-hell-hotel @perpetualabsurdity @mhessellund @itzabbyxx @chriszgirl92 @abbybarnesstuff @larrem88 @commonsenseishard @impalaspixie @notsogoofyjelly @hzllxhoundxx @taylortots-world @k-slla @heavenlyackles @spnfamily-j2 @buckybarnes-1917 @foxyjwls007 @spnbaby-67 @readingsins @lauraashley93 @antisocialcorrupt @anixiiee @jackles010378 @alternativeprincess @rosecentury @lelilw1 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @djs8891 @bakugouswh0r3 (thank you to everyone who's been here since the beginning, thank you for always hyping me up and for loving this story! If you want to be added please let me know! It's only going to be a few more parts, so get in while you can!)

I hid a quote in here from one of my favorite tv shows, besides supernatural of course... see if you can catch it! If you can, let's be best friends!

gun violence and mental illness talk at the end of this chapter, please read with caution if it is triggering to you in any way.... if you are struggling with mental health, please reach out! I love you and I'm happy you're here!

"is this really necessary?" I asked Jensen, my eyes befalling the large man in a suit standing next to him.

"yes, until they catch Riley, I'm not risking your safety... besides Mark's a professional, he knows how to be discreet, you won't even know he's around." Jensen said kissing my cheek.

I highly doubt that.

A big burley security man following my every movement.... yeah they'll never see him coming.

I sighed deeply, knowing I'd never be able to talk Jensen out of it.

I stood on my tippy toes connecting his lips with mine. It was a short brief kiss, but it was all I needed to get my heart racing.

"I should go, don't want to be late for my first day as Chief Editor." I said leaning in to Jensen's warm embrace.

"I'll pick you up after work, we have some things to discuss."

"things to discuss, what sort of things?"

"you never answered my question." Jensen smirks knowingly before departing.

It's been a hectic few days, my mind has been on overload. I'm lucky I even remembered to put pants on today. Of course I haven't been able to think about Jensen's proposition of moving in with him yet. I definitely needed to talk to Stella first.

"Mark." I said nodding my head at the tall man.

Mark starts to follow me in to the building quietly.

"who's the big dude?" Stella says as soon as we get inside.

I let out a sigh, so much for being discreet.

I roll my eyes as my coworkers glance at Mark, who's right on my tail.

"Mark.." I answer shrugging my shoulders.

I walked past everyone, going to my new office. I was surprised to see it was completely different than the last time I had been in here.

"I uh redecorated, I thought it would help ya know, so you didn't think about it." Stella said from the doorway.

I looked around the spacious office, every trace of Gray had been erased.

"I love you Stell." I said, a tear in my eye.

I engulfed my best friend in a hug. We stood in each other’s embrace, smiling.

"Sooo do I have to call you Ms. (L/N) now?"

"Oh god please don’t!" I laughed.

I took a deep breath, a comfortable silence fell between us.

"this is crazy right, I mean your life has done a complete three sixty."

I let Stella's words sink in, she was completely right. A few months ago if you'd told me this would be my life, I would've laughed in your face.

"it totally has... sometimes I don't even know how to keep up." I admitted glancing at Mark who stood outside my office like a soldier.

"okay what's up with Mark?" Stella giggled looking at the large man.

"I'm afraid Jensen insists, just until they catch Riley."

"ah yes, the crazy."

"Stella, she's not crazy, she's mentally ill."

I could see Stella noticeably roll her eyes.

"why are you defending her, she literally wants to hurt you (y/n/n)!"

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously as her words sunk in.

I didn't know what Riley's intentions were, but from the damage done to my car, I gathered that we wouldn't be talking over a cup of coffee anytime soon.

"I’m sorry, I know things have been crazy for you, and I just want you to know that I'm here, to listen, to talk, to eat our feelings away with chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream... whatever you need." Stella said giving me a warm smile.

"Jensen asked me to move in with him." I blurted out, the thought weighing heavily on my mind.

"oh my gosh, that's great!" Stella squealed.

"it is?" I question, surprised by her reaction.

"it is if that's what you want?" Stella questions.

I look at the pretty brunette sitting in front of me. I didn't know what I did to deserve her friendship some days.

"I really love him Stella." I whispered.

"then you should do it."

"but I'll miss you.."

"please, you can't get rid of me that easily.."

I engulfed my friend in another hug, squeezing her tightly.

"am I interrupting something?"

I let go of Stella to see David, the owner of the magazine standing in the doorway.

"no, I’m sorry sir." I said smiling.

"just wanted to see how you were settling in, and ask if you made any progress on finding me some new voices?"

I smiled widely at Stella.

"yes sir, in fact this is one right here! Stella is the best journalist we have." I said pushing Stella forward.

Stella nervously smiled at him.

"Stella is it, well why don't we go have a talk then?" David said reaching out a hand for her to shake.

I beamed with pride as I watched them leave the office to settle in the conference room.

I could never repay Stella for how much she does for me, but this was a start.

I heard the office phone start to ring, snapping me out of my daze.

"Ms. (L/N)" I answered.

I heard Jensen chuckle on the other end.

"Ms. (L/N), sounds incredibly sexy when you say it." Jensen purred.

"oh please, I thought I was going to come undone, the first day you said my name." I shot back.

"I was just calling to see how your first day as chief editor is going?"

I felt the smile grace my face.

"good actually, it's kind of making me nervous.." I said picking my nails.

"why is it making you nervous?"

"have you ever heard the term regression to the mean?"

"no.." Jensen said sounding confused.

“It means that life can’t ever be all bad or all good. You know, eventually, things have to come back to the middle.”

"I'm not understanding baby."

"I mean that everything's been okay lately, you know, we're okay, the jobs okay, Stella and I are okay.. the middle."

"so you mean things are about to get really good.." Jensen started

"or really bad." I finished cutting him off.

"sweetheart I think this whole Riley thing has you worked up, everything will be fine, okay, nothing is going to happen." Jensen reassured.

He was probably right. I mean this whole Riley situation did have me pretty worked up.

I just felt it was something more though, like there was something looming over us and I just couldn't figure out what it was.

It could've been my conversation with Elle too. I couldn't get her words out of my head... I just want to know who my competition is.

What did that even mean?

Was she going to try to steal Jensen away from me?

I guess it would be steal Jensen back, considering she had him first.

I didn't realize how quiet I was until I heard Jensen's smooth voice through the speaker.

"baby talk to me, what's going through your mind?"

"I think you're right, I'm just a little overwhelmed, I guess Mark wasn't such a bad thing." I said staring at the man who hasn't moved from the entrance of my office.

"see I told you..." Jensen said in a teasing tone.

"I don't have to take him everywhere do I? He's not coming home with me!"

I heard Jensen's hearty laugh boom through the speaker.

"he's definitely NOT going home with you.. he's just for when I can't be with you to protect you."

"my hero.." I swooned.

Jensen laughed again.

"I miss you already." I whispered.

"oh god I sound so needy." I added quickly.

"I miss you too.."

"so I uh talked to Stella about your proposition." I said biting my thumb nail.

"oh yeah? and how did that go?"

"good.." I answered being vague in my answer purposely.

"and do you have an answer for me?"

"yeah..." I whispered not being able to fight the smile on my face.

"well get on with it then, c'mon woman you're killing me here." Jensen whined.

"I mean, I'll have to get some things from the apartment." I said.

"so that's a yes?"

"yes Jensen, I'll move in with you."

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

"Are you going home? I'm going to grab some things and stay at Jensen's tonight." I told Stella as we gathered our things, the end of our day approaching.

"No, Matt's taking me out to dinner to celebrate my new promotion, thanks for that by the way! I can't believe I'm the new lead journalist!" Stella squealed making me smile.

"I didn't do anything, that was all you."

"Still, I couldn't have gotten it without you putting in a word to David for me."

"It's the least I could do, you do so much for me."

Stella wrapped her arms around me squeezing me tightly for the third time this day.

I've been so caught up in all things Jensen that I realized I really missed my friend, and I was so lucky to have her in my corner.

"woah, that's my woman."

Stella let go, throwing a look to Jensen who now stood in the doorway to my office. I didn’t see Mark anymore, Jensen must have dismissed him.

"nice office..." Jensen admired.

"I redecorated, thank you very much." Stella piped up.

"so when I need any redecorating done, I'll know who to call." Jensen smirked.

Stella glanced at her phone quickly before meeting my eyes again.

"I think Matt's here, I'll see you soon.." Stella said squeezing my hand before going over to Jensen.

"Jensen, take care of her... if you don't I'll chop your dick off." Stella threatened.

"Stella!" I exclaimed mortified.

Jensen just laughed in response.

"You have my word Stella, I mean I would kind of like to keep my dick." Jensen said making me roll my eyes at the pair.

"see you tomorrow." Stella said with a final wave.

Jensen smiled at her shaking his head. He came over to me wrapping me in a hug.

“she’s something..” Jensen laughed.

“you have no idea… are you ready to go home?” I asked cocking my eyebrow.

“as long as I’m with you I am home.” Jensen said.

I rolled my eyes at his line.

“that was incredibly cheesy.” I laughed.

“I thought it was romantic… even a little bit?” Jensen pouted.

“okay just a little bit.”

Jensen smiled, leaning down to pull me in for a kiss. I took a shaky breath as he connected our lips. I felt electricity pulsating through my skin as his lips moved on mine.

“I love you.” He said as he pulled away.

“I love you more.” I whispered.

Jensen gave me another quick peck.

“Impossible.”

Jensen grabbed my bag with one hand, grasping mine with other, as he led us out of the office. Cole stood by the car waiting with an open door.

“Ms. (L/N).” Cole nodded as I slid in.

“You really need to give him a break..” I said laughing at Jensen.

“Cole doesn’t need a break, do ya Cole?”

“no Mr. Ackles.”

“Cole you can be honest I know this one’s a lot to deal with.” I said smacking Jensen’s chest playfully.

“between you and me ma’am.” Cole started giving Jensen a smirk.

I laughed at Jensen’s flustered expression.

Cole pulled up to our apartment, quickly getting out so he could open my door. Jensen shuffled out after me. As soon as we stepped out of the car, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out checking the caller ID.

“It’s Jared.”

“you can take it.. I’m just going to grab some toiletries and a couple outfits, I’ll be right back.” I said kissing his cheek.

Jensen offered me a grateful smile as he answered his phone.

I unlocked the door, before grabbing our mail and going inside. I would have to remember to reroute my mail to the new address. I threw the mail on the counter, wanting to pack my things before I went through it.

I grabbed my overnight bag throwing articles of clothing in it before going to our bathroom. I made sure to grab my toothbrush, hairbrush and the other essentials. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror breathing a deep sigh.

I was really doing this.

I threw the rest of my stuff in my bag, zipping it up and walking back in to the kitchen. I set my bag down grabbing the mail to sift through it.

I turned around, feeling my blood run cold.

It was her.

Riley.

I gasped at the sight of her dropping the mail.

I didn’t know how she got in, the door was still locked.

I could see from the look on her face that she was distressed. I was afraid, but I wouldn’t let her see. I needed to remain calm.

“Riley… uh Jensen’s right outside, we could go see him.” I hesitantly said, holding my hands out so she could see I meant her no harm.

I shuddered as she pulled a gun from her pocket.

“I came to see you.”

I shivered, her voice was haunting, like she was in grave pain. I didn’t take my eyes off the gun she held to her side.

“okay..” I breathed.

“Jensen told me what happened Riley, I know you’re in a lot of pain, and I’m so sorry.. Jensen talks about you still, he cares about you.” I said trying to diffuse the situation.

I flinched as a warning shot rang out. I could feel the breath getting caught in my chest as I feared for my life.

“DON’T LIE!” Riley yelled, bringing the gun up so it was now pointed directly at me.

“just tell me what you have that I don’t.” she cried.

“nothing Riley, I’m nothing.” I pleaded.

“but he kisses you, and sleeps in your bed.” Riley said.

I felt the color drain from my face.

“how do you know that?”

“I saw you, I watched you… I know you love him but I do too.” Riley said eerily calm.

I thought back to the night when Jensen slept over. I thought I had seen someone but chalked it up to my imagination playing tricks on me… but now I know it was her watching us.

“Riley why don’t you put the gun down.” I begged trying to maintain my composure.

“you don’t even know him, what he likes, you don’t give him what he wants, he’s just pretending with you and he’ll get tired of pretending!” Riley growled.

Suddenly Jensen burst in the door followed by Cole.

Riley didn’t move the gun from me.

I could see the fear in Jensen’s eyes as he glanced at me.

“Riley..”

Jensen pointed at himself, asking Riley to turn the gun on him. Riley glanced between me and Jensen before turning the gun his way.

“Jensen don’t.” I cried, letting a few tears slip out.

Jensen held his hand out quieting me.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me Riley.” Jensen said, taking a step closer to her.

Riley breathed a heavy sigh as Jensen reached out wrapping his hand around the barrel of the gun. He yanked it out of her hands, switching the safety on, and putting it in his pocket.

“come here.” Jensen said reaching his arms out.

Riley collapsed in his arms crying. Jensen held her stroking her hair.

“Cole get (y/n) out of here, take her back home.” Jensen said.

Cole took a step towards me, but I took a step back.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I said not wanting to leave Jensen alone.

“(y/n) for once just do what I ask!” Jensen snapped.

I felt the tears roll down my cheeks as I grabbed Cole’s hand allowing him to lead me outside to the car. He opened the door gesturing for me to get in.

I dropped his hand stepping away from the car. I gave Cole a look, and started to walk down the street.

“Ms. (L/N) please.”

“stop it Cole.” I growled walking away.

I didn’t know where I was going, I just had to get away. I felt the tears staining my cheeks as I walked.

It was too much.

It was all too much.

for once just do what I ask..

he’s just pretending with you, and he’ll get tired of pretending..

I covered my ears trying to drown out the loud voices that were screaming at me.

I collapsed on the sidewalk, bringing my knees to my chest and sobbing.

this is what I meant.

regression to the mean..

Author Note:

I’m sorry for breaking your hearts again! Part fifteen will reveal a lot, so make sure you stick around to find out! If you liked this part please indicate so with a heart, comment, reblog, or a follow! It really is motivating! I appreciate you all!

xoxoxo

Liv

[bitter-panacea]

Goultard's backstory, comparing the Dofus manga and the special episode Part 2 - Falling in love

Part 1

The special ep and the manga are the most different when it comes to Goultard falling in love.

The most notable difference is that Goultard falls in love with one witch instead of three. Certainly because they thought Gou having three girlfriends/wives at the same time wouldn't be politically correct enough for a short film meant to be showed to french tv channels as a way to prove Ankama had what it takes to make a tv show (Wakfu).

In the manga, Goultard goes after a trio of witches, the dark sisters, who keep stealing food from their village and causing chaos. He's not really interested in stopping them, really he's just charmed and intrigued... (maybe he's kinda fascinated... and wishes he could be free like they are idk idk maybe who knows)

Kiki : Alright girls, I've got everything we need... Let's go!

Guy : Well, Goultard? What the hell were you doing? These three witches ransacked the whole village! And you didn't even lift a finger!

Goultard : I... I don't know, I wasn't myself, they must have cast a spell on me... / Guy : A spell? My ass. You're losing it! Talk about a hero... You're a pervert, that's what you are!

The way this guy talks to him like he's a completely useless imbecile really proves Goultard's only respected as long as he does what people expect him to do...

So he throws a large boulder the size of a small boulder at them, making them drop the bag of stolen food.

Kiki : Listen little peasant, we don't want to hurt you. Give us that bag and you'll leave safe and sound. / Elvie : Pretty cute for a little peasant.

Goultard : Shush... A small demonstration is better than a long speech...

Kiki : You think we're impressed, you pretentious macho? (Still... A tree with only one finger!) Let's see what you can do againsnt our magic powers!

Dark sisters : Take this! / Goultard : I wonder which one is the cutest...

They insult him, make fun of him, threaten and eventually attack him... and I guess that totally does it for Goultard. This is also exactly what Algathe did before he fell in love with her, so I'm pretty sure that's just his type.

Goultard : Now, you've really gone too far... You've burnt all my clothes off! (Gou like "teehee oops i'm naked lol ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ " )

Kiki : It's impossible... No man can resist our magic! / Elvie : Seems like he can.

Goultard : Now, may I give you some advice? / Kiki : Keep your advice and take this!

Goultard : Please, don't make me hurt you! / Kiki : Ow, my arm. Where does this strength come from?

Goultard : No idea, I've always been pretty sturdy... Now, if you'll excuse me... I believe this bag of provisions must be returned to its real owner. See you later, girls! (omg nobody look! he's ass)

Ah yes... No creature could resist Goultard, whether monstrous or feminine... / Kiki : What a guy... / Elvie : I'd like casting a love spell on him.

They dont ever say it, but you cant make me believe that these three "single" witches, who people call "sisters", (who lived together secluded from "respectable society"?) and did petty crimes together, weren't all dating one another. Goultard was just the latest addition to their cute little polycule. Thanks to his idiot rizz. And supposedly huge dick (If Elvie says so I believe her)

Elvie : Oh! Now that's what I call a magic wand!

His dick pictured here, here and here (pictures kindly provided by @dj-m0th thank you lmao)

( ＾◡＾)っ✂╰⋃╯No!! you leave that thang alone!!

In the special episode, the unnamed witch initiates the flirting with Goultard.

She IS very cute even if she doesn't seem mean like Goultard usually likes.

They dont waste any time getting to know each other. As shown here by this VERY subtle broom riding illustration.

In the manga, the relationship takes a little more time to develop.

Thus, after a few months, the relationship between goultard and the dark sisters grew friendlier. They first began by repairing the damage they had caused and helped Goultard to fend off the most aggressive monsters.

Over time, the three sisters and goultard became more intimate / Kiki : Take your finger out of there, naughty boy...

Looks like they're having fun. Good for them, good for them....

His wedding was magnificent and thousands of warriors came to pay homage. They were even surprised to see some former enemies arrive during the ceremony.

(Cabotine isn't there, is she dead?)

Life went on and Goultard was the happiest hero in the world. / Monster : Goultard, you little worm, come taste my balls... / Goultard : Stay in bed, girls, I'll be back in five minutes... (He'll be back right after tasting this dude's balls I guess)

They had many children and lived happily ever after

They have four children, three boys and a girl. Riri, Fifi, Loulou, what the fuck is the daughter's name oh my god (Fun fact : Riri, Fifi and Loulou are the names of Donald Duck's nephews in french)

Goultard's family is what he cherishes the most in the entire world. He truly loves that simple domestic lifestyle....

And this is it! Happy ending! No looming threat in the dark and certainly no part 3 to this post.

Part 3 Part 4

[bonebabbles]

Jagged Peak sucks too

And I'll say it actually. Gray Wing's anger is completely fucking justified. This has nothing to do with Jagged Peak's disability, this is because he's completely irresponsible with the well being of children

This isn't the first time he lost track of the kittens when he was in charge of them, either. Last time this happened they had to mount a rescue mission.

We see Sparrow Fur get painted a lovely shade of red in her own blood because she ran off on her Father Quest, mauled by One Eye in her goal to reconnect to her mother's domestic abuser, while Gray Wing trusted his brother with ONE JOB to make sure they didn't do something ridiculous

Gray doesn't know that Sparrow looks like a Children's Hospital right now, but he does know she's missing. And he learns where she is from OWL EYES

JAGGED PEAK SAID IT WAS OKAY

FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD

TO RUN INTO THE FOREST

TOWARDS A GROUP THAT IS HARBORING A WIFEBEATER

AND DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO BE THE ONE TO TELL GRAY WING THAT HIS ADOPTED DAUGHTER IS NOT IN CAMP

It gets worse. Gray Wing calls him over FURIOUS and Jagged Peak plays stupid

"IS THERE A PROBLEM THAT I LET YOUR CHILD GO LOOKING FOR HER ABUSIVE BIODAD IN THE WOODS, UNACCOMPANIED?"

Jagged Peak started to look uncomfortable :(((((((((( "im sowwy i thought it would be okey :( after all the wifebeater is HER FATHER, gray wing, guy who was mates with turtle tail and is the only paternal figure the kittens have ever known. i thought you wouldnt be a little bitch about it because she's big enough that a fox could eat her in two bites instead of one."

THESE KITTENS WERE BORN IN SUMMER. IT IS CURRENTLY AUTUMN. THEY ARE, AT MOST, 6 MONTHS OLD. That is assuming that they were born at the start of summer and this is the end of autumn.

Most likely scenario is that we are looking at 4-month-old kittens, and Jagged Peak said it was FINE for Sparrow Fur to run off on her own into the Oh So Dangerous Woods

How many stupid pills is a lethal dose?

You do not, under ANY circumstances, "GOTTA ADMIT HE WAS RIGHT"

EVERY time I believe that this arc has scraped the BOTTOM of the barrel, I hear the sickening crackle of wood and peak over the rim to watch them scooping out splinters.

"all three of them wanted to train with the man who got their mom killed, gray wing. so i let your 10 year old run off into the woods. 10 is old enough to make their own choices gray wing. come on man. c'maaaaan"

Then he starts gushing about how HE is going to be a dad, because that's just fucking GREAT, Jagged Peak. You've really proven how responsible you are and how much you can totally be trusted with children.

RE: This has NOTHING to do with Jagged Peak's disability. None of that is a factor into LETTING CHILDREN RUN OFF INTO THE WILDERNESS UNSUPERVISED

But then The News reaches the Moor cats. Sparrow Fur has been mauled and she is hanging on for dear life. What a turn of events!! No one could have seen this coming!!!!!! Gray Wing rips into Jagged Peak.

All THREE of you suck. NONE of you are okay people. You are all BLIGHTS on my eyeballs and I wish all three of you fell into a meat grinder at the end of this series

Gray Wing downplaying Clear Sky's role in everyone's pain and torment. AGAIN

Clear Sky "ohhh I feel dreadful :(" good. die.

Jagged Peak: "im sorry b-b-b-b-b-BUT your daughter was INSISTENT, so, you have to forgive me for letting her run into the woods alone--"

Before you go ahead, go on back up. Read that again. Sparrow Fur was put in danger because of Jagged Peak's STUPID choice, and he can't even FULLY take responsibility for it. "I AM sorry, I should have checked with you................................ BUT."

Always, ALWAYS in this series, a character who is angry is treated as JUST AS BAD as the person who hurt them and mustered up a shitty apology.

You expect me to take Gray Wing FINALLY expressing anger towards the shitty people in his life as a bad thing?? You think I'm supposed to see this as an expression of ableism???? TWICE now Jagged Peak has let children wander off, they have been KIDNAPPED in the past, and now Gray Wing is faced with losing ANOTHER family member. All because of Jagged Peak being an irresponsible manbaby who couldn't say no to an "insistent" child

His leg had NOTHING to do with this. Jagged Peak is the same reckless kid that charged out of the mountains and forced Gray Wing to follow him to prevent him from becoming eagle food, not thinking about anyone else besides himself, but this time he isn't a kid anymore. He's an expectant father.

Fuck, I'll bet you that it's why he let Sparrow Fur run off into the woods alone in the first place. "I did it and turned out fine!" When he's always had GRAY WING behind him to save his ass

Is this harsh? Yes.

Is it deserved? ALSO YES. Jagged Peak should take this shit to heart and THINK about what it means to be a parent before his children come into the world and have to deal with having HIM for a father

TEA.

A BOSTON HARBOR FULL OF TEA

I hate that the only time this arc ever lets Gray Wing fucking unload onto someone, it has to go and try to make it a big shameful thing that he's NOT being a total doormat. He's RIGHT.

Jagged Peak needs his wife to jump in and stand up for him because he can't face the fact that his stupid, careless decision put Sparrow Fur in danger and his brother, NOTORIOUSLY A PUSHOVER, is rightfully losing his shit with him

Jagged Peak, I hope it felt just as good to smack your brother as it did to call Bumble a fat slob before you stood by and watched her get dragged back to her domestic abuser. The same one you let a kitten run to. I hope your paw falls off.

But before it does, I hope you learn to take responsibility for your actions. Loser ass.

And before someone tries to clown at me about "Oh but Gray Wing was legitimately ableist to Jagged Peak in the past so actually it's not okay that he's yelling at him even though he's totally right!" Do you mean the time he prevented him from running towards a forest fire, the same one that also permanently disabled and ends up killing Gray Wing himself via complications, that everyone could only barely escape from with a lot of jumping? Or do you mean when he told him to defend the camp instead of joining in on the First Battle Murder Party, when Clear Sky was indiscriminately slaughtering people?

Or do you mean when Clear Sky was insulting him in public by calling him useless and Gray Wing was out here trying to insist that he IS useful? Which is its OWN bucket of problematic worms, but no, NEVER in a way that was meant to insult Jagged Peak for his ability or lack thereof.

This is completely new. He has NEVER snapped at Jagged Peak like this.

In fact I even point out in the link above that Jagged Peak shouldn't have to "justify" his existence. His life has value (even though he treated Bumble like hers didn't). That doesn't mean he can't face criticism for what he just allowed to happen to Gray Wing's adopted child. That doesn't mean he'll make a good dad if he doesn't smarten up. That doesn't mean Gray Wing shouldn't be fucking pissed at him.

Shove off, Holly. Shove off, get lost, play in traffic, suck an egg. You should take out your pain on the person who is responsible for sending a child to an unsafe camp with her mother's abuser where she got mauled, actually. That's completely fucking reasonable.

Holly x Jagged Peak FOREVER. HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. YOU CERTAINLY DESERVE EACH OTHER, IF NOTHING ELSE

Disclaimer: This is not a Gray Wing defense post. All three brothers are terrible. Clear Sky remains the absolute worst. Jagged Peak is the "least" bad but he's still fucking awful.

[rogerswifesblog]

A/N: it’s my first time writing this much angst, I hope you like it. It’s sad. No Happy End.

Please feedback?🥺❤️

Written in the stars

Summary: Steve always loved you. And he’d always love you, in health…and in sickness. Till your forever would end. You two only hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon,

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, cancer, angst, angst, angst, fluff, but it’s sad

You and Steve met 6 years ago, literally bumping into each other on the streets. He had spilled his coffee over your white shirt-yes, very Rom-com cliché. He gave you his hoodie to wear, and his number in case you’d like to call him…

You did.

After six months of pinning, meeting the avengers and a lot of teasing you were together. A perfect, happy couple.

Steve had realized he loved you very quickly into your friendship-two months after meeting you, you had invited him over (not for the first time), but this time you wanted to show him something. Something that you loved. A little hobby and passion of yours.

Stargazing.

While you were laying on the blanket, covered with another one, your gaze was glued to the sky-while Steve had only eyes for you. He couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes were so sparkly and pretty…your pretty lips so rosy and soft looking…and the smile creeping over your face whenever you saw a shooting star.

“Oh Steve look! The Coma Berenices…”, your voice brought him out of his thoughts, quickly looking to the sky. “It’s really pretty…”, he mumbled, once again letting his gaze slide to you. “Beautiful even….”

He put his arm around you “come here, little star, have it comfortable”, he laughed gently in your hair, pulling the blanket higher.

You had spent many hours just stargazing. After a while you had put your head on his chest, cuddling him closer, since it was a bit cold. Well, you had the blanket, which was technically enough, but….but you really wanted to cuddle him. And he enjoyed it as much as you did.

When you fell asleep on his chest, talking about the stars and how much you loved watching them. He had known about a few of your hobbies-but you’ve never talked with so much passion about something. It made his heartbeat fasten.

In this new world people didn’t show their feelings or love for other stuff than technology-internet, YouTube or Netflix. Everything was always about social media-and he was an old fashioned man. Don’t get him wrong, technology was great but he enjoyed the simple things. Like sketching or…or just stargazing.

He fell in love.

What he didn’t know was that you had also fallen for him that day.

Steve had asked you if you wanted him as your boyfriend-which was sweet. He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He asked you to be yours.

And he did it again. Three years later.

He asked you if you’d let him be your husband. Be the one at your side for the rest of your life. Be your forever.

But you didn’t know that forever would end so soon.

Five years into your relationship you got married. It was a small ceremony, with Natasha being on your side, while Steve had Bucky standing behind him.

Steve cried. (You did too.)

Natasha said she didn’t cry. (She totally did.)

Bucky cried openly, seeing his best friend-that one that got beaten up in alleys twice a week-getting married.

One year after your marriage you got diagnosed.

You were taken to a hospital, after passing out while shopping with Natasha. She was supposed to help you find a pretty dress for your anniversary.

You tried on a dress, spinning around and needing to sit down after that. Moments later you lost consciousness.

Cancer.

Terminal cancer, to be specific.

You were completely surprised with this diagnosis-shocked, actually. It came out of the blue. Well, you were a bit more tired lately, slept more and had trouble with your appetite. You were often exhausted by doing very simple things, like walking down the stair-lately even carrying the laundry was difficult.

Maybe you should’ve seen it coming?

Steve spent the next hours with you, just holding you in a tight hug.

Needing it as much as you did.

Maybe even more than you.

Definitely more than you.

In the evening he had to leave you, since he wasn’t allowed to spend the night in the hospital. (He tried the Captain America card. Didn’t work. Stupid people. His wife was dying and he wasn’t allowed to be with her.)

He spent the night in Bucky's room, not being able to be alone.

He cried.

Hours passed and he was still crying.

Until he fell asleep.

Three months passed and you felt weaker every day. Steve stopped going on missions to be with you-he didn’t tell you that, but you knew. You knew why he was doing this.

He wanted to spend more time with you. The last days, weeks….as long as you had left. Which probably wasn’t that long anymore. You could tell it wouldn’t take long.

Steve knew it too. He could hear your weak heartbeat. Your heavy breathing…

You slept a lot-making him nervous Every Time you went to sleep or napped. He was scared you wouldn’t wake up one time, which made him scared of falling asleep himself.

Steve gave you a gentle kiss, walking past the couch on which you were sitting. “Hungry, sweetheart?”, he asked, putting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. A small smile crept over your face, while you put your head in your neck and looked up at him. Your eyes seemed so sad…slowly losing their sparkle.

“I could eat”, you mumbled. “Okay, I’ll make you…something that I won’t burn”, he grinned, giving you another kiss. It made you laugh quietly too. He really was a bad cook, always burning everything-but with the many tutorials (and JARVIS’ reminder to check the food) he managed to make decent meals. Even really good ones.

Even Bucky ate with you two once, praising the food, thinking you had cooked. He didn’t believe it, when you two told him the truth. You remember the red blush on his cheeks hearing the praise.

Twenty minutes later Steve sat down next to you, two bowls in his hands, one for you, the other for himself, clearly a much bigger portion. “I think it’s not salty enough-but I’m not sure”, he mumbled, looking at you and waiting for a reaction.

After eating a bite you shook your head quickly. “It’s really good. I like it”, you mumbled, slowly leaning your head against his shoulder. Enjoying the warmth radiating from his body.

If someone had asked you ten years ago, If you wanted to die you'd say yes.

If someone had asked you, If you were afraid of dying you’d say no. Back then, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel like life was worth living. Always working, being stressed and not being able to sleep from all the coffee you were drinking, to staying awake at work. You often had enough, just needing to scream into your pillow to let out your frustrations.

You hadn’t really appreciated life. You hadn’t found your reason to love life.

Until meeting this gorgeous, sweet man.

He made life worth living. You loved every second you spent with him.

Now you are scared. You didn’t want to die. Not when you had your whole life with Steve before you.

A single tear rolled down your cheek. You didn’t want to leave Steve behind. He didn’t deserve it.

While Steve had made your life worth living, the same happened to him. Having met you, he finally felt like he had a purpose. Not as Captain America, but as Steve. You made him happy.

“Today is a meteor shooting. Maybe you’d like to watch it? I could put some blankets on the roof…make us some snacks…”, Steve mentioned one day, while you were a bit stronger than the days before, taking a walk outside.

Steve still wanted you to hold onto his arm, which you gladly did, leaning your head against his bicep.

Smiling brightly, you looked up at him. He finally saw some of the sparkle he had missed so much. “Yes, it’s so sweet you remembered, Mr Rogers”, grinning you gave him a kiss on his cheek-to do that you needed to step on your toes. Steve pulled you a bit closer, kissing your lips gently. “Of course I remembered Mrs Rogers. It’ll be a beautiful night”, he whispered, giving you a few gentle kisses on your face.

A few hours later you two were laying down on a blanket on the roof, with you cuddling against his chest. He was like a human heat pack- “I’m what?”, you felt your cheeks blush, realising you had said these words out loud. “Oh god, sorry Steve-it’s just you’re so warm”, you laughed quietly, matching his own laugh.

He shook his head slightly. “Yeah, okay, you’re always telling me I’m warm but…a heat pack? Interesting” Steve grinned, looking at the sky, slowly turning a darker shade, from the most beautiful rosy, organ he and purple shades the the dark night shades, lighted with beautiful bright stars.

Both of you sighed, watching the stars shining brighter than ever.

It felt special.

A special, beautiful night.

“There’s the constellation Coma Berenices…”, you pointed at the sky, where you saw it-knowing that Steve had no idea what you were talking about, but he liked listening either way. He tried to find it. “I remember you’ve mentioned it a few times before…What does it look like?”

You pointed once again at the stars. “These…these three stars in the half square are the main stars” “what is it about?”he asked, looking at the stars you were pointing at.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “It’s a constellation for lovers-well, technically for the sacrifice of the beautiful hair of Queen Berenice of Egypt. She did it for her husband Ptolemy…was so concerned for his safety when he went off to war….so she vowed to cut off her glorious long hair as a sacrifice to Venus”, you whispered, closing your eyes slowly.

“Did it work?” Steve sounded hopeful, making you smile a bit. He had such a good heart. “Yes. He came home safely…and Zeus placed Berenices beautiful hair in the heavens to shine among the stars…” “that’s a beautiful story.”

You nodded slowly. “It really is….I get why she did it. I’d do everything for you too”, you whispered. Steve was quiet for a moment, looking at the brightly shining stars. He kissed your head gently. “I’d do everything for you too. Meeting you was the best thing that happened to me.”

Smiling, you put your arm around his waist, inhaling his rich smell. “I love you, Steve. You’re the love of my life…the reason I was the happiest I’ve ever been in the last few years. God, you’ve no idea”, you said, which nearly ended in a sob. Steve felt like he could cry himself, which he often did.

“I love you too, my little star.”

You smiled, looking at the Coma Berenices again, then also seeing another shooting star. Then you closed your eyes again, cuddling a bit closer against his chest.

Lying in Steve’s arms was an incredible feeling.

He was your home.

It’s the best place you could imagine ever being.

It was perfect.

For a while you two just watched the shooting stars. The sky was filled with beautiful and bright lights. Nature was the most beautiful thing. Incredible.

Feeling Steve hugging you even closer-if that was possible-made you sigh quietly, softly.

If hugs could heal, you’d never be sick in the first place. Maybe they did. Maybe Steve’s embrace was the only thing you needed.

The pain stopped.

Steve stroked over your hair gently. Another star fell, making him smile lightly. “Look, another one.”

But no answer came. “Sweetheart, we’ve been here for only two hours, you can’t sleep now”, he laughed, gently shaking your shoulder.

You still didn’t move.

He took a deep breath, listening to your heartbeat.

Silence.

Gently kissing your head he stroked over your hair, not holding the tears back anymore. It was over. Your pain was over.

And he was happy he was with you, till your forever came to an end. You weren’t alone. You died in his arms.

In the arms of your true love. He knew you were happy in your last moments, doing what you loved the most, watching the stars. With him. He knew you loved him, he saw it in your eyes everyday. Even when your sparkle vanished, he saw love.

“I’ll love you till my forever ends, my little star…”

And looking up at the sky he knew you were looking right back at him. Free. At peace.

Thank you for reading!

Please interact, leave some feedback!❤️

I’m thinking about writing another one shot about this-maybe some fluff and cute memories or something, or Steve’s life after…I’m not sure, but I enjoyed writing this. (Even if it broke my heart, it was nice to write something like this)

[nullvoidface]

Wall!AU Main Three

(CuteGuy Villain AU)

All art in this post done by the lovely @shr00mgum

Read the fic HERE

Grian, pseudonym - CuteGuy

Hybrid-Status: Presumed avian

Not much is actually known about Grian as he keeps things to himself.

He was never a member of The Hermits, only working as a vigilante side-kick to HotGuy at most.

Five years ago he disappeared (and was presumed dead) due to The Wall incident. Now he’s back in the desert and more secretive than ever.

He’s extremely focused on his plan, which will be revealed in due time.

He’s currently struggling with balancing being on the run and trying to make it big as a villain.

Though he doesn’t want to kill anyone, focusing much more on sending a message.

He’s got one foot in the past, and one in the future. Plagued by overthinking every current moment as well as remembering his past and trying his best to suppress what once was and justify to himself what he’s currently working on.

Random fact: Grian once tried to make Mumbo the mayor of El Santuario. It didn’t work.

(Song I associate with Grian: AJJ - A Big Day For Grimley)

Mumbo Jumbo, Pseudonym - None at the moment

Hybrid-status: Human

Mumbo moved to the desert with not a penny to his name after being kicked out by his parents at 16 due to him being trans. This turned out to be an awful idea as had it not been for the mad scientist known as Doc, he probably would’ve spent more than a year as homeless. Doc picked him up off the streets after hearing about the kid’s redstone abilities that he used as a smalltime-villain.

After a few years working for Doc, Iskall decided to take him in. The two worked together on various projects, and would primarily do bank heists/robberies to earn enough to get their weapons company up and running.

Mumbo was caught by The Hermits, and due to his young age they decided to offer him a new chance to get “on the right path” (possibly due to Scar taking a liking to him).

He grew close with The Hermits, but after the loss following The Wall, he went back to Iskall. The two have worked and lived together since then.

He’s struggling quite a lot with the fact that Grian is back, part of him is convinced it’s all a dream, or maybe he has finally lost it. He sleeps less, his appetite is gone, our poor Mumbo is not doing great when we first meet him in the fic.

Random fact: Mumbo faints at the sight of blood

(Song I associate with Mumbo: PUP - Totally Fine)

Scar, Pseudonym - HotGuy

Hybrid-status: [CLASSIFIED]

Growing up in El Santuario, Scar was a pretty active kid and went onto become a skilled archer, even competing in other parts of the continent. However, this eventually came to a stop when Scar fell ill with an unknown disorder.

He decided to challenge himself to become a hero, starting out as a simple vigilante with a bow and arrows, he could be found perched on rooftops saving him from close-combat.

Eventually he was recruited into the Hermits and quickly gained an even larger fanbase than before. He had quite a hold on the media as well, and when Xisuma had to leave El Santuario for a few months Scar was picked as the man in charge.

This, however, was when The Wall appeared. He had kept close to Grian as usual, until he was forced to split from him.

Some media sources blamed Scar for the loss of an unofficial Hermit, leading Scar to leave the Hermits for a while until he could finally be convinced to rejoin the group.

When Grian was gone Scar focused more on unravelling the ties of the criminal network that runs through the city like blood vessels. This is done completely outside of work with the Hermits as the government refuses to fund his search for answers. “Surely it’s tied to Grian somehow, right?”

Scar is appalled that a new villain would ruin Grian’s “good name” and considers CuteGuy a rival.

Random fact: Scar’s cat Jellie has been the employee of the month every single month except for one. This was because Tango brought donuts in on his shifts for the entire month.

(Song I associate with Scar: Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill)

[ninja-muse]

February was a pretty good month! I read some books I really loved (and a couple that were simply meh), I got in a father-daughter visit and had really good luck at Scrabble, the weather was mostly not awful, and even if inventory at work took longer than expected, I survived it without brain mush, which has happened before. I am still the fastest scanner! My title holds.

Regular readers will be unsurprised to learn that Eve by Cat Bohannon and Mirrored Heavens by Rebecca Roanhorse were my top reads of the month, or that What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher ranks third. My T. Kingfisher problem is at least a year old, after all. (Also I read a couple delightful picture books, so be sure to click through to find them!)

I'm personally more surprised by my lowest picks, because they both sounded so up my alley but fell flat for nearly completely different reasons. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store ended up feeling disjointed and like it was trying for a theme it couldn't quite grasp, and A Market of Dreams and Desires hit all kinds of tropes I love, right down to random Dickens references and weird steampunk machines, but tied everything together a little too neatly for me. Ah well.

And right in the middle of my list is my sole physical TBR read of the month: The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz. This managed to tick off "Canadian author" and "classic" at the same time, so I get triple points. (This might have had a hand in me picking it.) Duddy has aged surprisingly well, in that it's still pretty fast-paced and amusing and also in that Richler wrote it with the understanding that scam artistry, hypermaterialism, and misogyny were bad and y'know what? They still are. I would recommend if you're looking for a Canadian teen anti-hero, more than anything. Duddy is a trainwreck and you can't look away.

I managed to get through the month with only three books hauled. (We won't talk about ARCs but the book fairies were kind.) The Unfortunate Traveller and Under a Pendulum Sun were bought during the habitual father-daughter bookstore date, and both because I never thought I'd see them and figured I might never see them again. The Unfortunate Traveller is essays and travel writing by a guy who co-wrote with Shakespeare and I didn't know it even existed. Under the Pendulum Sun was recced to me somewhere (here? bookish website algorithms?) and since it's essentially a gothic novel with properly weird fairies, it's been on my list.

The third book was a total surprise. Apparently I helped crowdfund it in 2019 and they've only just managed to get it printed and also I said I wanted a physical copy? The things we learn. Anyway, it's essays on aromanticism, agender identity, and asexuality so that tracks.

And I know I said I wasn't going to talk about ARCs but I got some good ones this last month and also in January, and there's a lot of them that are out or soon to be out and I'm having that problem where I want to be reading all of them at once. March is going to be interesting and probably a little panic-inducing.

Click through to see everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

Eve - Cat Bohannon

A history of human evolution, through the lens of the female body.

8.5/10

warning: touches on sexism, mental illness, suicide, miscarriage, and rape

reading copy

Mirrored Heavens - Rebecca Roanhorse

The fractures following the eclipse have deepened and no one can see a way back to peace that doesn’t involve bloodshed. Out in June

8/10

Indigenous cast, 🏳️‍🌈 POV characters (bisexual, third gender), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (third gender, sapphic), Black-Pueblo author

warning: war, torture, mentions of child abuse

reading copy

What Feasts At Night - T. Kingfisher

Alex Easton has returned to kar hunting lodge to relax. Unfortunately, the locals claim there's a monster on a property.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (third gender), protagonist with PTSD

Library ebook

The Twilight Queen - Jeri Westerson

Will Somers, jester to Henry VIII, is caught up in another mystery, this time of a corpse in Queen Anne’s bedchamber.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (bi), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay)

digital reading copy

The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz - Mordechai Richler

A delinquent teen grows into a hustler, against the backdrop of mid-century Jewish Montreal.

7/10

largely Jewish cast, Jewish author, 🇨🇦

warning: racial slurs, misogyny

Off my TBR shelves

The Woman With No Name - Audrey Blake

Lonely and craving war work, Yvonne signs up to be the first female spy for the Allies in occupied France. Out in March

7/10

half a 🇨🇦 author

reading copy

The Frame-Up - Gwenda Bond

Ten years ago, Dani turned her art thief mom in to the Feds. Now her mom’s mentor has given Dani an offer she can’t refuse: use her magic to pull an impossible heist, get her life back.

6.5/10

Black secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic)

reading copy

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store - James McBride

The Black and Jewish residents of a Pennsylvania neighbourhood are (mostly) in it together, not least of when the government decides to take a local Deaf kid to an asylum.

7/10

Jewish and Black cast, major character with chronic illness and a limp, secondary Deaf character, Black author

warning: ableist characters and institutions, racist and anti-Semitic characters, sexual assault and molestation, (largely) reclaimed slurs

library book

The Market of Dreams and Destiny - Trip Galey

Deri may have a chance to buy out his indenture early when he meets a princess looking to sell her destiny. But in the goblin’s Untermarkt, nothing’s ever easy.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (mlm), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (mlm, genderfluid), British Indian secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: child abuse, enslavement

borrowed from work

Picture Books

No Cats in the Library - Lauren Emmons

Cats aren’t allowed in the library but that’s where all the books are!

🏳️‍🌈 author

Read at work

Family is Family - Melissa Marr

Chick gets a note before kindergarten, telling him to have his mom or dad walk him to school. Except that Chick has two moms.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters and themes

Read at work

Currently reading

Knife Skills for Beginners - Orlando Murrin

Paul Delamare is filling in at a cooking school when the resident celebrity chef has a, erm, "accident."

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (gay), Black British secondary character

Reading copy

True North - Andrew J. Graff

The Brechts move to Wisconsin to restart a rafting business. They hope it’ll save their young family, but it might do the opposite.

library book

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Victorian detective stories

disabled POV character, occasional secondary Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 9 +2 Yearly total: 20 Queer books: 4 + 2 Authors of colour: 2 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 1.5 Classics: 1 Off the TBR shelves: 1 Books hauled: 3 ARCs acquired: 6 ARCs unhauled: 4 DNFs: 0

January

[darlingshane]

when you call me darling

Swaino x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Warnings: Explicit. Sex Work. Cam Girl. Smut. Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Panty Kink. Edgeplay.

WC: 5,6k

Summary: You're meeting Swaino for the first time face to face. It should be simple except for the fact that you work as a cam girl, and he's one of your most loyal clients.

-- Read below or at AO3.

A/N: This is fiction. Please stay safe and don't do this if you're a cam sex worker, unless that's your thing. // Fair warning: I use the word darling 18 times in here. And I gave reader a fake name for her online profile.

 You've totally lost your mind…

The words of your friend echo over and over in your head, minutes away from meeting Swaino. Maybe you have really lost it by agreeing to meet one of your members in person, but you're safe here. You picked this pub that Bridget owns exclusively because she's there behind the bar in case this whole thing is a bust. It eases you up knowing that she's close by. The thing that worries you the most is when he realizes you're not the same girl from the website. She's part of you, and looks like you, sure, but she's bolder and sexier and less scared in front of a camera than in real life. You should probably call it, he's going to see immediately through the veil of smoke. Your posture alone; you're so anxious right now that you can't hold yourself as poised as you do in all your pictures and videos.

All your interactions so far have been virtually ever since Swaino came upon your profile on Kinky Fans about three months ago. He started purchasing a handful of pictures and videos of Sweet Lexi, your online persona, before signing up for a full membership to access all your content. He went further and bought one of the priciest perks you offered, and one of those was an exclusive video made just for him where you get off in a pair of panties, and then you'd send said-pair-of-underwear to the buyer. After that, he even got two more in the following weeks. He claimed he was not a panty sniffer, and that you had awoken something on him, he couldn't truly explain. He was completely infatuated with you, that's for sure, and part of you loved that someone was getting off to the smell of you somewhere not too far away. You sent all those to a town in New Hampshire, roughly 50 miles away from your home city, Boston.

A month later or so, you accepted his request to face cam privately. It was one of those things you've only done a handful of times, cause live interactions and streams have always stressed you out. Swaino seemed sweet in his messages and wasn't demanding or degrading like any other you got constantly, so you decided to give him a chance.

By his profile picture, you couldn’t tell shit about how he looked, since it was just a snapshot of a red motorcycle. When he popped out on your screen during your call, you could only see his top half, but he was surprisingly good-looking at first glance. He didn't have the same quality webcam or the lighting set-up that you had strategically placed to highlight your best features and make yourself look better; but you could tell he had a handsome face with strong angles, held on broad shoulders and a thick neck.

His eyes were kind and playful, and his lips were sexy as hell, framed by a beard, in the shape of a goatee. You weren't particularly fond of that style, but it suited him.

Most guys you had interacted with live like this never show themselves on cam, they would stay in the shadows behind a random profile picture, watching and asking you to do this and that while they masturbated. Swaino was different, he wanted that connection and went the extra mile of giving you the opportunity to see his face.

He was plainly wearing a black hoodie, half opened, with no visible shirt underneath, just two gold necklaces hanging around his neck.

You, however, were laying sideways on your bed, showing your whole figure dressed in provocative red, lacy lingerie set of bustier and panties.

Within the first three minutes, you fell for the Swaino of it all. He’s a talker, which works great, cause firstly you weren't good at first impressions. Secondly, the longer he'd stay on the line, the more money you'd get. And thirdly, it gave you the opportunity to meet someone genuine that didn't want you just to take off your clothes right off the bat. He needed to seduce you, and he absolutely did.

It was shocking, though, to find someone different for a change, you almost felt sorry for collecting his money.

He asked how was your day going to break the ice, and then a series of mundane questions that eased you up into performing for him. Being behind a screen was very liberating. You felt sexy seeing him react to the way you moved, and how you took off your underwear, touching yourself teasingly over the fabric, and wetting that fourth pair that you'd sent to him the next day. Though he had seen it all already, he looked transfixed as if it was the first time he ever set his eyes on you.

It went on like that for weeks. Some days he only wanted to talk about everything and anything going on in your lives, and you did so for hours until you learned almost everything about each other. He was incredibly funny, sort of douche-bag sometimes for the stories he told about his friends and work, but it was part of his charm, and you couldn’t deny being a little attracted to it all. It made you crazy enough to agree to meet in person.

Preparing yourself for a face to face meet, you poked around his socials and saw for yourself if he was the guy he said. He didn't have much presence online. Only Facebook and Instagram accounts that were basically ghost towns. He had only a few pictures with friends and family, a dog, and that red bike you got used to seeing whenever he interacted with you, or indirectly with your profile.

And now, here you are, at Bridget's pub, downing a soda while you wait. He’s fifteen minutes late. He probably hit traffic on the way in, or maybe he got cold feet and decided not to show up at all. You check your phone and there’s nothing. Would it be bad to be a little disappointed if he doesn't come? Probably. One thing everyone said to you when you went looking for advice at the beginning of your career at Kinky Fans was never to meet in person subscribers and such. If they pay, they might feel entitled to something else, and could get really ugly really fast, they said. You’ve made it clear that this isn’t part of what you do online. This is just two people meeting. Nothing else, nothing more.

“Still late?” Bridget interrupts your train of thought, “what’s it been, half an hour?”

“Uh, yeah. He must be close,” you glance at her, “don’t look at me like that. He said he’d come.”

“You really like him, don't you?”

“Not really…” crossing your arms on the edge of the table, you let out a long sigh,“I like some things about him. And I wanted to see if there was something more, you know? But maybe you were right. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“He'll show up if he knows what's good.”

He has to show up, right? You start to doubt everything he’s ever told you as Bridget goes back to work. And just as you start thinking that you’re being stood up, you see him walk past the window. You recognize him by his signature goatee and perfect hair before he steps inside the bar.

Without being too eager, you draw some air and wait a couple of seconds, as he scans the crowd, before rising from your chair and putting your hand up midair.

His eyes land on you, and you put your hand down. He quickly nods and walks in your direction. You notice he's carrying a small bouquet as he gets closer.

When he stops and stands in front of you, you both open your mouths simultaneously to greet the other.

 “Hey.”  “Hi.”

“I'm sorry, I'm late. I got stuck at work, and then I stopped to get these…”  he apologizes, smiling nervously, showing you the flowers in his hand, “I know you said—”

“It's okay,” you cut him off, “I'm just glad you came. Dahlias, huh?”

“Your favorite flower,” he swallows, holding the bouquet out, “here.”

“Thanks,” nodding shyly, you brush his fingers as you take the flowers from his hand.

You sit back down on your chair, and place the dahlias on the table. He takes off his jacket and sits across from you.

Swaino stares at you for a long moment with those big brown eyes of his that seem naughtier up close before exhaling with longing, “you're even prettier than I thought.”

“You're cuter than I thought,” you smirk, propping an elbow on the table, holding your chin on your palm.

“Ah, c'mon, don't give me cute,” he whines comically, leaning back on his chair, “puppies are cute.”

You shrug, amused, “you kinda look like a big puppy in a hoodie.”

He scoffs, and hangs his head down.

“Alright, you're very handsome, Mr. Swaino. That better?”

“Did you say very?” gazing at you bashfully, a strand of his hair moves across the side of his forehead, “I wasn't fishing for that, but I'll take it.”

“You're also very humble.”

And you thought meeting him would be awkward. It surprises you how quickly you ease up. Screen or no screen, you fall into your usual banter the way that you’ve been used to for the last  few weeks. Talking to him always felt very easy, it shouldn't be different face-to-face, unless he turns out to be an asshole. Which you haven't ruled out yet.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask.

“Uh, sure.”

You wave at one of the waiters, but it's Bridget that comes to take your order.

“Flowers? God, you're easy,” Bridget sighs dramatically.

“Don't tell him that.”

“Right, cause axe murderers care if you're easy or not.”

“Actually, I'm a… a strangler,” Swaino quips between your conversation, “guitar strings are my usual go-to, but I can use anything at hand.”

“That's not funny.”

“Can you just take his order without harassing him?”

“That's not gonna happen. I need to see your ID first,” she says without an ounce of amusement, staring at him.

“What?” his brow knits in confusion, “do I look like I'm underage?”

“Won't get served until you do.”

“Just show it to her.”

He scoffs and reaches for his wallet in his jean's pocket to produce his ID, and hands it to your friend.

“Okay, Mr. Terrance Swaino, if that's your real name, from Manchester, New Hampshire,” she announces a little over the top, scanning his ID thoroughly.

“That is my real name,” he utters, a tad intimidated.

“If something happens to her, I know where you live now.” Bridget continues, handing his ID back, throwing him a menacing look, “And I have a gun. We could all end up on Dateline if you dare to touch one of her hairs. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am. Can I get a beer now?”

“Draft?”

“Sure.”

“I'm sorry,” you say after she's gone, “she can be a little intense.”

“Nah, that's fine, darling. She's just looking out for you. I get it.”

A smile lightens up your face, hearing him call you the usual pet name he picked out for you.

   That's right, darling.  

   You're so beautiful like that, darling.  

   I wanna suck your tits, darling.  

   You make me so hard, darling.  

   Come for me, darling.  

Those are his usual chants when he's watching you pleasuring yourself. It sends fire to your core seeing that falling from his plush lips every damn time. Including now, you feel that sweet tingle at your crux, and you press your thighs together, hoping he doesn't notice the effect he has on you.

“You okay?” he questions. He must have seen it in your face, that grows hotter by the second.

“Mm-hmm,” you take a long sip of your drink as one of the waiters brings his beer.

Swaino leans back against his chair and tilts his glass up to his lips. Without taking his eyes off you, he downs almost half of it before opening his mouth again.

“Are you going to tell me your real name?”

Your head turns to the side, and you glance out the window for a beat.

“What? You know mine,” he scoffs, “I can call you Sweet Lexi in public if you prefer, but something tells me you don't wanna.”

“Shhh, no, don't call me that,” you hesitate, and pause, “I guess it's fair to tell you, since I know yours… just promise to keep it to yourself. I can't have people online figuring out my real name, you know?”

“Okay, promise.”

You clear your throat and utter your actual name, watching his lips curve up as you do.

“See, that suits you better.”

“Yeah?” you fold your arms on the table, lean forwards, and confess openly, “I… I like it when you call me darling.”

With a grin plastered on his face, he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, and mirrors your position, leaning even further, so his face is just a couple of inches away from yours, as a flaming electricity is held in the air between you and him.

“I like when you call me baby,” he hushes.

“Oh, I know.”

“Do you call that to every guy or just me?

“Why? Would it make you feel special if I did?”

He simply shrugs.

“I don’t talk to guys the way I talk to you, but sometimes I have… I…” you pause, clear your throat, and glance around before uttering, “most guys are older than you and prefer other terms.”

His brow knits, “like what? Daddy?”

You nod.

“Would you call me daddy if I asked you to?”

“Client’s choice, baby. I probably wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it.”

“Say, what else do you like about me, darling?” He circles back.

“I like your nose.”

“This nose?” the tip of his nose strokes yours, side to side, “what else?”

“I like your lips.”

“Hmm, do you want me to kiss you?”

Your chip dips, “are you going to?”

“I would, but I’m afraid your friend will shoot me if I do.”

“She won't,” a soft laugh bares your teeth.

“Either way, it'd be worth it, right?” he purrs, and licks his lips, arming himself with valor.

He unfolds one of his arms to trace your jaw with his index finger, ever so subtly, as your eyelashes flutter. This fingertip stops beneath your chin, and slightly tilts your head up, so he can capture your mouth.

His beard tickles your skin as his lips slowly bounce against yours, pressing a few tender kisses.

“Are you really that easy?” he stops kissing you, but his lips remain painfully close to yours, wrapped in a raw intimacy of hushed words between both mouths.

“I guess… only when I want to. Would you think less of me if I told you that I wanna take you to my place already?”

“Oh, baby. I'd never think less of you. You're a fucking dream come true. I respect a woman that quickly makes up her mind like that.”

“I've never done this before. You know… meeting a client.”

“I know.”

“That's not what I do,” you point out again, in case you haven't made it clear yet.

“I know, darling. I'm just surprised that you wanted to meet me at all. Are you trying to decide if you should take me home or not?”

“Kinda,” you bite your bottom lip, questioning yourself if you should. “I like you, Swaino. You just have to promise you'll be nice.”

“I will. I swear,” he exhales with urgency, “I fucking promise, I won't hurt you.”

He brought his car for the trip. You climb into the passenger seat, and guide him a few blocks away, where your apartment's settled. It's brand new, you've been living here for less than a year. When your profile took off, and you started making big bucks, it gave you the opportunity to move to a bigger, industrial apartment. It's a three bedroom/two bathroom. Big open space and arched windows. One of the bedrooms is where you work. You keep that door closed for now.

After all the formalities of showing him inside, dropping your keys on its tray, taking off your winter layers, and having another drink to soothe yourself smoothly into the whole thing, you take him to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, and slip out of your shoes.

With a little trepidation, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch him step out of his Nikes.

“Take off your hoodie,” you utter, and he obeys with no question, slowly unzipping his hoodie. He wants to show himself as much as he wants to see you.

“See anything you like, darling?” he grins, tossing the hoodie to the chair in the corner, as you find yourself staring like an idiot at his muscled-broad chest.

“Mm-hmm,” it’s not enough to express how much you want him right now.

You draw a long breath, and gingerly remove your sweater under the shadow of his dark eyes. Afterwards, you unclasp your bra at the front to release your tits.

“You're fucking perfect, darling,” he hushes under his breath.

“C'mere, baby,” you pull at his belt, and scoot backwards on the mattress, pulling him along till he ends up on top of you.

One of his legs ends up wedged between your knees, as he props himself on his forearms. He inhales and seals your lips, as your arms curl around his torso. Taking it slowly, you make out as you get comfortable into the whole ordeal of having him here, in your home, in your room, in your bed. It's hard to let go of that thought. His tongue swiping past your lips makes it easier. He's firm, unpredictable, and sloppy at first. But maybe he's just trying to figure out your mouth. It doesn't feel bad, though. No sir. Not once he's found the best way to make you hum at the swirling of his kiss. Makes you giddy and relaxed every passing second.

The lock of your legs open, and you nudge him to have him nestle in between.

His body feels amazingly against your chest and palms. Your fingers glide up his spine, and you catch his skin turning into goosebumps as his hips start waving against yours. There are two layers of thick denim between his erection and your slicked folds, but you can definitely feel him swelling.

And all of a sudden, you can feel your core anxiously throbbing at the desperate grinding of his hardness.

He breaks the kiss, and angles himself to the side to make room for his fingers that trail down your body to undo the buttons of your jeans. He tugs them down to your knees before letting his hand sneak beneath the elastic of your panties without hesitation.

He doesn't ask verbally, but nods at you as a warning that he's going straight for the cake. You nod back and close your eyes when his fingers reach your slit.

“Fuck, darling,” he exhales, soaking his fingers in your arousal.

Your eyes flick open, locking with his bloodlust browns that are ready to scorch the earth with just one gaze. He starts with your core, though. His touch, as good as it feels having your clit to play with, doesn't have the same effect as the way he looks at you right now. It's probably you've grown used to having him watch you masturbate. It's always been enticing from the get-go to allow his eyes to witness the way you undress and pleasure yourself for him behind a camera.

He has a front seat now that comes with VIP access to your body like no other member has ever had. It looks like that's what he desires, to watch you come by his hand that anxiously rubs harder to make you lose the little control you had until that point.

You rotate your hips involuntarily and ball the sheets as his fingers poke and slip at your entrance. He keeps them in, massaging the roof, as the vicious pressure of his thumb meeting your clit repeatedly drags you to the edge.

“Do you think about me touching your pussy like this?” Asks Swaino.

“Sometimes,” your breathing falters over his mouth.

“Yeah? Wanna come for me, darling?”

“Hmm.”

“Go on, beautiful,” he purrs, kissing your lips, “don't be shy.”

Letting him take you to ecstasy, you bring one hand to hold onto his neck, as our legs start trembling near that crucial point. A few strokes after, you let a strangled moan, and clasp your knees together, trapping his hand between your thighs when you come undone.

“Good girl,” he praises, and peppers your face and neck with kisses, feeling your opening contracting around his fingers before pulling them out, “can I kiss your pussy?”

You huff a laugh in between pants, “later, I… I can’t right now, baby.”

“Just a quick kiss. I swear, I just wanna get a taste of you.”

“Alright, go ahead,” you breathe out and part your legs further, as your body relaxes.

Swaino licks his lips and ducks his head towards your crotch. With a finger, he gently strokes one side of your outer labia before pressing a small but lingering kiss. He stays there for a moment, humming softly, smelling, and savoring your taste without even stimulating your tenderness.

Basking in the afterglow, you lace your fingers in his hair until he comes back to you.

“I’d eat you all up if I could,” he prints a wet kiss in between your breasts as he climbs back up.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“You’re a fucking dream,” he reiterates.

“You already said that.”

“Bears repeating,” he cups your jaw.

“You’re sweet.”

“I’m a sweet puppy, I know,” he scoffs.

“Are you always like this with all your conquests?”

“Truth?” his brow raises, and you nod, “no, I’m not always like this. You’re special.”

“Me or Lexi?”

“You sweetheart, you. I mean… Yes, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think about her… but it’s you, she’s partly you, and you move like her, sound like her, and come like her… It’s…”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yes… but I want you. I swear.”

“Good. Come here, puppy,” you frame his face and pull him into a kiss. Now that you’ve recovered fully, as you play with his tongue, you use your feet to push your bottom layers that were still wrapped around your ankles. Then, in return, you start undoing his pants and see that he’s still hard as you palm him over his boxers.

He’s shown you his cock a couple of times. Pictures are always tricky, he looked big from the angle you saw. And he feels just as big in your fist as your fingers tuck around his hardness.

“Wanna fuck me now, baby?” You hush, pulling away from his delicious lips, and he grunts when you jerk him a little harder, “look at you, you’re so desperate for a fuck, are you?”

“God, you’re gonna kill me,” he grumbles. You know he likes it when you talk to him like that. A few times you’ve played with orgasm control, either him controlling you or the other way around. It’s very enjoyable to see him struggling when you have the power.

“What if I tell you that you can fuck me as hard as you want?” it’s then that you slide your fingers under the fabric and feel his aching erection, throbbing in your fist, wet at the tip.

“I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll come before my cock touches your pussy if you keep talking to me like that, darling.”

“Yeah?” you laugh softly, and release him, “go on, take off your pants and put on a condom.”

He obeys and once he’s stripped down and wrapped his dick, he kneels between your legs, extends your arms over your head, as his lips drag up from navel up to your neck. He kisses your tits on the way up, flattening his tongue over your hardened nipples and giving them a good licks and little sucks.

You can feel his length tapping your pussy as he bathes you with kisses, spit, and the scrape of his beard that feels amazing on your skin. It makes you ache for more, and you reach with your hand to guide him inside you.

“Look, who is desperate for a fuck now,” he parts from your chest and props himself to his hands, gazing down to see your hand sheathing him in the sweet confinement of your walls.

A shiver runs up his spine, and he thrusts on reflex at the sensation of your opening pressing around him.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, “like that, darling?”

“Yeah,” you grip at his waist, looking down at the same point where your sexes meet, and pull him harder against you. He gazes with hunger at your wobbly boobs, dancing with every thrust, and he sends one of his giant paws to clutch one of them. He stays propped on the other, as the pace of his driving grows more sharp and erratic.

You can tell he’s not going to last soon by the way he twitches inside you, so you use your fingers to rub your clit.

“That a girl, come with me,” he urges, as his face contours, and the hand on your tit moves to hold your face. His thumb nears the corner of your mouth, and you stick your tongue out to suck it between your lips and watch him struggle close to the end.

“You’re fucking mean, too. I swear. You're killing me,” he groans, and you smile around his finger.

You suck on harder, and rub yourself faster until he inevitably falls on top of you when the orgasm claims his body, taking him to cloud nine. It takes you a moment to be there with him, but eventually you do too.

His nose is buried in your neck, and his length is still semi hard inside you, as you catch your breath.

“My goodness, you smell amazing.”

You fit one hand to his nape, smiling to yourself as you come down from your high.

“That was… fucking great, baby,” you utter gruffly and clear your throat.

“Yeah? You’re glad that I came?” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I do. Yeah.”

“Wanna go for seconds later?” he sweetly brushes away the hair strand sticking to your forehead.

“Absolutely.”

“How are you even real, darling?”

“Maybe I’m not… maybe you’re dreaming.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. You feel pretty real,” he tilts his head and captures your lips ever so gently.

It’s later than you order dinner and hang out on that same bed, just watching TV and feasting like kings and queens without any worries in the world, as if you’d have done it many times before. The longer you’re with him, the more obvious the chemistry between you two becomes. It’s palpable in the way you laugh and talk with each other.

“Can I ask you something?” he mumbles, having his arm wrapped around you, cuddled against the headboard while you watch a movie.

“Sure,” you half glance at him, as you play with his fingers.

“You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna, but I’m just curious why you show your face in your pics and videos.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I used to crop it at the beginning, but I… I guess I like being watched. All of me. Not just my body. I felt…” you pause, seeing him listening closely, “I used to have very low self-esteem and when I put myself out there the first time it was just for fun. One day I got all these comments, telling me how sexy I was, and that made me feel good… and eventually I just didn't care about showing my face. I don’t know if that makes sense. The Internet is filled with porn now. I’m not worried that someone will find me. My closest friends know what I do, and I don’t think my family will ever figure it out. “

“Yeah, it makes perfect sense, darling.”

“Can I ask you something now?”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you do with my panties?”

He scoffs and looks to the other side for a beat, “you don’t wanna know.”

“C’mon, I wanna know,” you insist, amused, and cup his chin to guide his eyes back to you.

“I uh…” he struggles to get the words out, as his ears turn red, “don’t judge me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I ruined two pairs. I wanted to… and I just rubbed a couple using them, you know? Made me feel closer to you or whatever. I washed them, but it's not the same anymore.”

“What about the other two?”

“I just like smelling them sometimes. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Swaino…. Why would I think it’s weird? It’s flattering, actually.”

“Yeah? Makes you feel sexy and special?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I…” his lips pull up on a lopsided smile.

“What?”

“Can I see where you work?”

“Why?”

“I just want to see where I met you. Can I? C'mon, I know you wanna show me,” the cocky bastard insists, and you fold and take him to the other room.

“See? It's just a room,” you give him the full tour of it. There's a queen bed with a metal-framed headboard and a side table.  A desk parallel to the end of the bed with your computer and a light pointing towards your stage. A dresser filled with toys, and a mirror on top and makeup case on the surface. A chair in the corner, and a closet.

“Turn on the fancy lights, would you?”

There's nothing fancy about the LED lights that illuminate the back of your bed. You set them on a dark shade of blue, and then switch off the ceiling light.

“It's so weird,” he utters from behind the desk.

“I told you.”

“No, not like that. It just gives me…. What's the word? Dejuju?”

“You mean déjà vu?”

“Yeah, I'm having one of those right now. I feel like I’ve been here before,” he walks around the desk and sits at the end of the mattress.

He kinda has. Multiple times.

You sigh and get on the bed, crawling at his back, curling your arms around his neck.

“That’s where I see you,” you point at the reflection in the shiny surface of the black screen in front of you.

“I figured.”

“You wanna fuck me here, don’t you?” you whisper in his ear and nibble playfully his earlobe.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Baby… every guy wants to fuck me here.”

“So, I’m not that special.”

“You’re here, aren't you? You wouldn't be if you weren't. What do you wanna do with me?” As much as you want to keep this space separate, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to please him right now. You’re having so much fun that it really doesn’t matter if he fucks you here or anywhere.

“Seriously?”  

“Yeah, seriously. Tell me your fantasy.”

“I uh… I don't really have a fantasy,” his brow knits, as he gives it a thought.

“What's your favorite video of mine?”

His lips automatically curve up at your question, “I mean besides the ones you've made for me? I guess… the one you did with Scary Mary was pretty good.”

Of course, he likes that one. You've done a couple of collaborations with two other girls, and your most popular video yet in your channel is one you did last year with your friend Mary. It was titled– Brat learns manners feat. Scary Mary. She's one of the top tier stars in Kinky Fans, and the majority of her content is BDSM related. You're into some aspects of it, but you haven't really explored further than some light bondage and impact play.

“Well, I'm not doing that with you.”

“It's okay, darling. I guess my only fantasy was getting to fuck you. I didn't have an elaborate plan… just plain ol' fucking.”

“That was a great fuck, baby. We could do what we usually do. You tell me what you want from me and I do it… within reason.”

“Hmm, that simple?”

“That simple. What’s it going to be?”

Even simpler, he just chooses to remove your shirt, and have you sit naked on his lap. Facing that screen that remains switched off, he uses the reflection and asks you to look at yourself while he pushes your legs apart and touches your pussy. He tugs at your lips and grazes every inch of your vulva before tucking two fingers inside you. His opposite hand moves up to your face and slips another two fingers into your mouth at the same time. He wants to control your orgasm, and you let him. The effect he has on you is scary and thrilling.

You keep grinding against his cock with your ass, desperate for a release the longer he draws it out. He viciously edges your orgasm three times, making a mess out of you, until he finally lets you come.

The cherry on top is when he fucks you again. He places you down on your front and spreads your cheeks to see his cock fully disappearing into your opening over and over. He makes you beg for an orgasm once again, and you comply with a lot of whining and drooling over the sheets until he finally allows you to.

[caspersickfanfics]

Post-adrenaline puking

For @monthofsick day 6

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, near death experience, nightmare reference, imagined death (?) (thinking about "what if [character] died")

A/N:

No ask for this one, just my own brain thinking it'd be great if Cyno and Tighnari were fighting together and then Cyno almost died and he's totally fine but Tighnari is horrifically shaken up by the whole experience.

There was something uniquely exhilarating about fighting with Cyno. Although Tighnari was more than capable of handling The Withering on his own or with his team of forest rangers, something about teaming up with the person Tighnari was closest to enhanced his own strengths. As a general rule of thumb, Tighnari didn’t much like fighting, but this… he would never admit it out loud, but fighting alongside Cyno felt more like play.

They took down the last ruin monster together, and despite the energy-sucking effects of The Withering, Tighnari felt like he could fight ten more as he moved to destroy the tumor. A single shot should do it, now the they’d destroyed the monsters and the branches. And yet… It didn’t. Tighnari frowned. Had he missed? A sense of foreboding rose in his bones, but he brushed it off as he heard Cyno laugh.

“Tighnari! What does an archer say when he misses his target?”

Tighnari ignored this, taking aim for a second shot. As he did so, he heard three things:

The complete silence of the wind

Cyno’s carefree voice saying, “Oh, bow”

A creak that comes not from nature, but machinery

He whipped around just in time to a final infected ruin monster appear behind Cyno, already charging up. He didn’t know how it had gotten past both of them, but he knew without a doubt that it could take his partner from him forever with a single strike.

“Cyno!” Tighnari’s stomach flipped; he felt felt the blood drain from his face and with it went any sense of fun. For a moment where time was frozen, Tighnari saw snapshots of Cyno, making unfunny jokes to lighten a tense mood, playing TCG with the highest degree of intensity, returning to their home weary to the bone but full of love after months of nonstop work. He saw him helping Collei through panic attacks, reminding her that her illness did not define her or make her weak, tucking her in after a bad dream and staying with her the better part of the night, teaching her tracking and spatial awareness to ensure she’d be able to sense when danger was near. He saw Cyno as he was years ago, awkward and uncertain in the early stages of their friendship, recalled the wonder in Cyno’s face as Tighnari taught him how to brush his tail. He saw Cyno asleep in their bed, peaceful and entirely relaxed and safe.

Then he saw Cyno, cold and stiff. Lying flat, but not sleeping. Entirely unmoving. This Cyno he had seen before, too, many times since his dreams had returned, but only ever in the worst of his nightmares.

And then the hands of time began ticking, and Tighnari lost track of himself. He had a thought that he’d need multiple shots to take it down, and then he was moving. Two shots from a distance, running closer before the second one hit. The machines weapon went off, its laser beam striking too close to Cyno for comfort, but Tighnari’s body continued to move. Positioning himself in close quarters and knowing that he could hit its weak point up to five times in succession if he got lucky.

He did get lucky, but it didn’t feel that way. There was no immediate sense of relief as the ruin monster fell to the ground. Tighnari wasted no time destroying the tumor. The Withering cleared, but his chest stayed tight and painful, and oxygen felt just out of his grasp. He heard Cyno whistle and then speak as though he were a mile away.

“Wow, that was kinda hot. I had no idea you could–” Cyno’s breath stuck in his throat the moment he caught sight of Tighnari. Ears pinned to his head, tail quivering weakly, eyes wide. A single glance and he could tell something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

Then Tighnari doubled over and vomited, and Cyno was at his side assessing the damage before a single thought crossed his mind.

“Are you hurt,” he demanded. No response, just a moan and a shuddering back, and then a hand clasping Cyno’s arm, tight. “Tighnari.”

“‘m fine,” the forest watcher mumbled, voice hollow and still thick with nausea; decidedly unconvincing. A harsh heave brought another wave of puke splattering across the uneven forest floor. Cyno held his companion steady with his free hand on Tighnari’s shoulder. When the retching stopped, the matra took it upon himself to conduct a quick but thorough examination, only breathing a sigh of relief after he confirmed that Tighnari had sustained exclusively surface level injuries.

“Right,” Cyno spoke with an attempt at confidence. “You’re okay.”

Except Tighnari did not look okay at all. His skin was washed out and covered in beads of sweat, and his ears stayed pressed into damp hair. The way he gasped for air made Cyno’s chest hurt. Most concerning were his eyes: unblinking and dilated, red-ringed but dry, they traced all of Cyno’s movements as if tied to him by invisible strings.

“You–” Tighnari started, only to be cut off with a retch. His grip on Cyno’s arm tightened impossibly further. Cyno didn’t mind; he simply moved closer and rubbed firm circles onto the ill forest watcher’s arched back until he threw up again and his airways cleared. Cyno was rattled, impatient for an explanation and reassurance, but not enough to rush Tighnari into speaking. He took a slow breath before speaking again.

“Let’s sit." The matra’s voice was deliberately soft with the suggestion, and his movements as he guided Tighnari to rest on a fallen tree were gentle. He was still clearly feeling unwell. He curled up, one arm wrapped around his knees, feet pulled close to his body, looking much smaller than he was. Even his tail had curled closely around him. Every so often a wet burp would bubble out of him, but Cyno doubted there was anything left in his stomach. Since he hadn't brought any extra supplies, Cyno used his own bare hand to wipe the area around Tighnari’s mouth clean. He tried not to think too hard about what it meant that Tighnari, who was usually so insistent about taking care of himself, expressed no resistance to this action. He still hadn’t let go of Cyno’s arm, though his grip eased somewhat over time. As Cyno eyed the place where their skin touched, he thought about how scared he had been at the idea of Tighnari being hurt; he thought about the number of times Tighnari had examined him for injuries, and the intensity of his gaze just minutes ago.

“Ah,” Cyno said quietly. It was so obvious. “I’m okay.”

The words, simple as they were, clearly meant a great deal to Tighnari. His tail twitched and unraveled, brushing Cyno’s shoulder and falling to rest nested between both of their thighs. Tighnari’s eyes, which had been staring blankly at the ground in front of him, drifted to Cyno’s face.

“You almost died,” Tighnari croaked. A shiver ran down Cyno’s spine.

He didn’t know if Tighnari was right, though he trusted the forest watcher’s judgement. He wanted to deny it. He knew, really, that it didn’t matter exactly how close he had come to fighting his last. If he had scared Tighnari to this extent… He didn’t know how to fix it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, both helplessly and genuine. “I didn’t mean to.”

Tighnari’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his nose twitching. His mouth quirked up slightly, like he wanted to laugh but was too tired to muster up the energy. “I know.”

Cyno nodded. There was a much bigger conversation to be had, he knew, but now was not the time. Tighnari’s complexion had improved somewhat, but he was still incredibly shaky. His grip on Cyno’s forearm had weakened, and he had slumped against Cyno’s side. It was… disconcerting, seeing how steady he usually was, and Cyno wanted him to rest and feel better as soon as possible.

“Do you still feel sick?”

Tighnari took a moment to answer, and Cyno knew he was taking stock of his body. He waited silently, comfortable with this familiar process, until Tighnari shook his head. “Not sick, just tired and weak. I–” He hesitated and Cyno offered when he hoped was an encouraging expression. Tighnari’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not sure I can walk, to be honest.”

This was not surprising to Cyno. “I’ll carry you.”

The blush darkened. Cyno stood, facing away from Tighnari, and nodded at his own back. “Get on.”

Tighnari scoffed audibly, and then there was a soft “You’re ridiculous,” but soon a weight settled against Cyno and he smiled slightly.

“What did the forest ranger say to the fox?” He asked. Tighnari groaned, Cyno’s smile grew, and together, they set off towards home.

–––

Send asks here!

[imtrashraccoon]

I got a bit busy but I haven't dropped this series! It made more sense to combine these two ideas rather than make two separate chapters I think. I have about three more planned chapters that will both serve to wrap up the final threads and also serve as an epilogue of sorts.

This chapter takes place a day after Day 18 Festival or two months and three weeks after the humans fell into the Underground.

First Day, Previous Day, & Bonus Three.

Bonus 2: Festival & Dancing Part 2

You were stirred from sleep by an incessant bouncing on the couch cushions, which was no doubt Frisk's doing. With a low grumble of annoyance, you rolled onto your back and pulled the blanket up to your chin.

"... it's too early kiddo..." you murmured.

For a brief moment all was quiet and you almost began to wonder if they'd actually decided to show mercy on you.

You were mistaken.

The sudden collision of their much smaller, but still quite solid, body with your abdomen immediately dashed away any hope of getting a few more minutes of sleep. You let out a sharp gasp of pain and your eyes shot open to their now widely grinning expression.

You scowled and before they could get away, pulled them into a crushing hug. "You little pest," you growled in a teasing way while trying to get your own revenge by tickling them.

Frisk squirmed and wiggled to get away but to no avail as your grip held firm and you rained down tickles until you were both completely out of breath from laughing so hard. Only then did you release them and collapse back onto your pillow to recover.

"Okay... So what has you so impatient for me to get up this morning?" you finally asked.

"Santa came!" they signed. After a moment though, their excited smile fell to be replaced by a confused expression. "He did come, right? Even though there's no chimney?"

You chuckled and managed to sit up, pulling Frisk with you so they were sitting on your lap. "Well... You're right about the chimney part, so we decided to help Mr. Claus out this year since he wasn't able to drop off your presents in person."

You hoped your explanation wouldn't confuse them further but what else were you supposed to say? Right now would be a bad time to break the news that Santa Claus wasn't real and while you didn't want to lie to them, you also knew the importance of childlike wonder. It couldn't hurt to keep that hope alive for at least one more day, right?

Frisk seemed to consider your words for a moment before they smiled again and nodded slowly. "That makes sense... I suppose he can't come down here anyways because then he would be trapped and no one would receive presents."

You stroked their head in an affectionate way and smiled as well. "I guess that's one way of looking at things, but it's alright. Even if things aren't the same this year, we love you and we still want you to be able to be happy, okay?"

They wrapped their arms around your neck in a fierce hug that actually caught you off guard. You embraced them though and slowly rocked their body back and forth.

The brothers came downstairs eventually, although you could tell Sans seemed like he hadn't completely woken up yet. Papyrus was somehow the opposite and looked the very picture of perfect, like one those cliché "Just woke up like this" Instagram posts. You honestly envied him but weren't about to voice your complaints out loud, as he totally would take satisfaction in holding it over your head.

Once everyone was gathered together, Frisk opened their presents. While they seemed excited to receive the sketchbook and coloured pencils, you were surprised to see how much they liked the Mettaton action figure. They were grateful for each of their presents, but you could tell what the winning gift had been and it wasn't even a close contest.

A little later while Frisk was checking out the books they'd received, you helped Papyrus in the kitchen with making breakfast. It made you happy that Frisk had liked what you had managed to get them and while things were different this year, overall they seemed happy, which was what you'd been most worried about.

"got a question for ya, Rihanna."

You glanced over to find Sans leaning against the archway between the kitchen and living room. "Sure, what's up?" you asked.

"frisk mentioned a guy named santa claus earlier. so, who is he exactly?"

Papyrus seemed to perk up at the question and stopped what he was doing. Turning to you, he inquired, "Does He Seriously Just Enter Your Home Without Asking Under The Pretense Of Leaving Gifts?"

You chuckled and responded in a lower voice than before so Frisk would be less likely to accidentally overhear. "Well, that's how it traditionally works. The truth is it's just a fun thing someone made up for the kids to make this time of year magical or something."

"Right, I Cannot Imagine Not Having Magic, Let Alone Not Growing Up Surrounded By It, That Must Be Unbearable," Papyrus mused. "My Previous Question Still Stands Though. Why Do Humans Trust A Stranger Like That Around Their Children?"

"Most people don't," you answered flatly. "Besides, Santa Claus doesn't actually exist, it's just a guy in a costume pretending to be him. Most Santa's are set up in malls so you can get pictures with them anyways."

"so he's made up?" Sans asked in a tone that sounded like he didn't fully believe you.

You couldn't help the grin that formed at his question. If you didn't know better, both brothers actually seemed rather concerned and while you could understand why, it was still pretty amusing that they were so unnerved by a harmless tradition.

"Yes, Santa Claus is made up. In fact, the whole tradition of a man that gives presents to children was based on an actual person named Saint Nicholas who gave money to people in need. While Santa has roots in many cultures, usually by different names, the concept is pretty much the same across the board."

Sans made a low humming sound and tapped his clavicle thoughtfully. "huh, that's quite different than what we thought..." he muttered.

You tilted your head questioningly and glanced between the brothers. "What did you think Santa Claus was then?"

"i dunno, like a celebrity or a ruler of some sort?" Sans rubbed the back of his skull awkwardly and frowned. "look, 's not much you can really gain from the random junk you find in the dump with his stupid face on it, okay?"

You giggled at his obvious embarrassment and shook your head. "No, no, it's okay! Anyone would find my culture's fascination with him strange and you've probably only seen a glimpse into the level of our obsession."

Papyrus chuckled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Your Kind Have Some Strange Traditions But I Suppose We Do As Well. In Fact When We First Put Up The Lights Outside, We Did Not Even Know They Were Christmas Lights Until Much Later. We Just Thought They Looked Cool So We Have Left Them Up Ever Since."

Sans nodded in agreement. "too much effort to take 'em all down anyways..." he muttered.

"Fair enough, most would probably agree with you, but then there are crazy people who decorate their entire home and yards with lights. I couldn't even begin to understand how they can stand doing so."

< ~ - . - ~ >

That evening, Papyrus approached you in the kitchen and you couldn't help but notice that something was different about him. He seemed kind of excited, but not in a teasing or smarmy way, and he was holding something behind his back.

"What's this about?" you asked.

With more flourish than was necessary, he produced a decent sized package wrapped in simple brown paper and tied together with twine. You could feel your heart skip a beat and while you didn't want to assume this was a present considering the occasion, your mind couldn't seem to come with any other explanation.

"I Was Thinking Of You Recently And So I Got You Something To Show My Appreciation," Papyrus explained as he handed the package to you.

You blinked in surprise and for a moment just looked at the present, scarcely able to believe this was happening. You hadn't expected for him to get you anything but you really shouldn't have been as surprised that he had. Coming from the guy that would jump at the chance to spoil you if it wouldn't make other people suspicious, and if you had let him, this gesture should've been obvious.

Upon opening, the package contained something knitted from incredibly soft red yarn. You quickly realized it was actually a shawl with a fringe and, by the texture, seemed to be made from a similar material to Papyrus' scarf.

"Is this...?"

He nodded, "Yes, It Is, Precious. I Remembered How Much You Seemed To Like My Scarf So I Got You Something Similar." He couldn't seem to be able to stop the wide grin that crept across his skull and in a slightly snarky tone added, "Maybe With This You Will Refrain From Stealing It Again, Hm?"

You felt your cheeks grow rather warm from embarrassment and looked away. "It was one time! Besides, I did give it back when you noticed..."

He chuckled and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, guiding your gaze back to his own. "I Know, I Am Only Teasing You..." he purred softly.

"This is really nice though... Thank you, Paps." You frowned slightly and glanced down at the shawl. "I just... I feel bad I didn't get you anything in return..."

"Hey." When you looked up at him again, he smiled in such a genuine way, that it almost made your heart melt. "I Know You Were Not Able To And I Never Expected Anything Like This From You. I Only Got You Something Because I Wanted To And Just Having You By My Side Is Enough To Make Me Happy."

"Still," you pouted, "I wish I could've."

A moment later though, you got a bit of a cheeky idea. "Hey... There is one thing I could give you..."

Papyrus seemed to catch on rather quickly. Maybe it was your tone of voice or maybe it was the slight smirk you had when you said it. Either way, he bent down slightly to be more on your eye level and gave you a bit of a curious look.

"Oh? And What Is That?" he asked.

"It's a sort of human Christmas tradition..." Rather than explain and ruin the moment, you decided to just go for it, despite the lack of mistletoe. Catching him by surprise, you wrapped your arms around his spinal column and kissed him.

He almost melted into your embrace and barely hesitated to hug you back. You released him after a minute but couldn't exactly pull away when he continued holding onto you. He pressed his skull against your forehead seemingly content in the moment.

"I Like Your Traditions, Precious," he purred in your ear.

You grinned in satisfaction, "I hoped you would..."

He held you close for a little while longer before he seemed to get an idea. His hold loosened on you except for his right hand which he moved to just behind your left shoulder.

"Remember A Few Days Ago When You Asked If I Would Teach You How To Dance?" he asked.

Your eyes widened and you nodded. "Yes, are you saying you want to right now?"

He grinned, "If You Would Like To."

"I would," you agreed. "But a fair warning, I probably will end up stepping on your toes a bunch as I've literally never done this before."

"Do Not Worry About That, You Could Not Hurt Me If You Tried."

Papyrus directed you to wrap your left arm over his right and rest your hand near his shoulder. He then clasped your right hand with his left and raised your joined hands up to about your own eye level.

There wasn't any music to really sync your movements to, but that didn't bother you in the slightest and you slowly swayed back and forth together. Once you'd become a bit more comfortable, Papyrus guided you into a basic step.

He moved to his left and brought his feet together before repeating, bringing you along with his movements. Then, he repeated the process but to his right this time.

It was much simpler than you'd originally pictured and actually pretty fun. You were pleasantly surprised that you didn't make an absolute fool of yourself. While he didn't admit to it, you suspected Papyrus was somehow purposely guiding you in such a way to prevent you from stepping on his toes like you'd fully expected to. He moved with such confidence though that you didn't mind in the slightest.

You quickly lost yourself in the moment and found yourself only able to focus on his face. Here was the toughest and also the strongest man you'd ever met, and yet he moved with the grace of an experienced gymnast or athlete. It was so contradictory and yet made complete sense for him as a person.

He was just that cool.

[4townie]

Road to 4☆TOWN

It was nearly 11pm. The boys sat around the tour bus impatiently, Taeyoung asleep in T’s lap.

“Courtney,” Robaire whined, “are we there yet?”

Courtney sighed. “We should be at the hotel in another ten or fifteen minutes.”

T, Z, and Robaire all groaned.

“We’ve been sitting here for hours.” T complained. “I can’t sit still much longer.”

“And my neck can’t take sleeping on this window much longer.” Z rubbed his neck.

Courtney glared at them. “Why can’t you just be quiet like Jesse? He’s behaving?”

“He’s sulking.” Robaire glanced at Jesse, who was staring out the window.

Jesse let out a melancholy sigh.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Right now, Jesse is my favorite because he’s not—”

“SELINA!” Jesse ejected out of his seat when his phone started ringing.

Taeyoung jumped awake. “Ugh, I was having the best nap.”

“Great, now you woke the cat.” T shook his head.

“Sorry, guys.” Jesse maneuvered out of the seat row. “The love of my life is calling me, I’ll be right back.” He headed into the bus bathroom and shut the door.

The bus fell silent.

“So,” Taeyoung sat up, “are we almost there?”

Courtney groaned loudly.

“Hey, babe.” Jesse said as he picked up the phone. “How are you and Marcel holding up?”

“Well, uh…we’re interesting.” Selina said awkwardly. “I mean, Marcel’s fine. He misses you like crazy, but—”

“Awwww, I miss him too.” Jesse smiled. “I miss you both a lot. I know it’s past his bedtime, but is he still up? I wanna talk to him.”

“Jesse, we need to talk.” Selina got his attention. “And I know your bottom lip is quivering right now. Calm down, I’m not breaking up with you.”

Jesse sighed with relief. “Lina, you gotta stop opening conversations like that, especially if it’s not gonna be serious.”

“This is pretty serious actually.” Selina said quietly. “Remember the night before you left for the tour?”

“You mean when you dragged me off the couch and made me finish packing?” Jesse furrowed his brow. “I told you I wasn’t sleeping, I was just resting my eyes. I was gonna get up in a second.”

“Actually,” Selina’s voice got awkwardly high pitched, “I was talking about what happened after that.”

Jesse froze. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“Because…I’m pregnant.” Selina finally said. “Surprise.”

Jesse stared at the wall in shock, completely silent.

“Oh, not again.” Selina groaned. “Baby, I need you to actually respond so I know you didn’t pass out or something.”

“Are you sure though?” Jesse narrowed his eyes. “I mean, maybe you’re late because you’re stressed about being alone with Marcel for two months.”

“Honey, I went to the doctor’s office today.” Selina crossed her arms. “The ultrasounds confirmed it.”

Jesse got quiet again. “Okay, well I’m gonna tuck and roll off this bus, walk back home, and—”

“No, babe, it’s totally fine.” Selina stopped him. “You’re only gonna be gone for a little while longer at this point.”

“It’s only been, like, three weeks. I’m not gonna be back until two days before Marcel’s birthday.” Jesse reminded her. “And the tour isn’t as important as being there for you. I mean, you’re gonna need someone to watch Marcel while you’re hunched over the toilet.”

“Jes, it’s really gonna be fine.” Selina calmed him down. “I’m gonna call Daunte in the morning to let him know, plus my dad’s retired now so he should be able to help until you’re back. All you’re really missing is the part of the pregnancy where I don’t want you near me.”

“But even during that phase, you needed to sit on my lap while I told you how pretty you are.” Jesse whined. “I just wanna go home and be with you guys.”

“Five more weeks.” Selina sighed. “Just five more weeks and we’ll be together again.”

“It’s gonna be the longest few weeks ever.” Jesse ran a hand through his hair. “Well, other than the first six weeks after Marcel was born. That was torture.”

Selina giggled. “Well, I’m gonna have to go now, babe. I just smelled what the neighbors are cooking and I’m probably gonna be sick.”

“Awww, that’s my pregnant wifey.” Jesse said with a giddy grin. “Go on, go throw up. Love you lots.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you, too. Bye.” She hung up quickly.

Jesse quietly smiled to himself. “I hate it here.”

Act II

Late 1998–First (American Only) Tour

Robaire—20 going on 21 in ‘99

Jesse—22 going on 23 in ‘99

Aaron Z—20 going on 21 in ‘99

Aaron T—19 going on 20 in ‘99

Taeyoung—15 going on 16 in 2 months

———

Aaaaand we’re back! Did you miss me😁

[greylockeileenparker]

   ⛰️  ◞       (   COURTNEY EATON.  CIS WOMAN.  TWENTY-THREE.  SHE/HER.   )  do  you  see  EILEEN PARKER  over  there  ?  they've  been  in  greylock  for  twenty-three years  working  as  a  bartender at  The Hollow Tavern.  i  heard  they  can  be EMPATHETIC  but  i  wouldn't  get  too  comfortable  ,  rumor  has  it  they  can  also  be  PRONE TO ANXIETY.  it  isn't  too  surprising  when  you  realize  they  have  a  reputation  as  the  local  OPTIMISTIC WALLFLOWER.  

Dependent character blog for @greylockhq

Basics:

Name: Eileen Lorraine Parker

Age: Twenty-Three

Birthday: July 23rd, 2001

Sexuality: Pansexual

Gender: Cis Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Occupation: Bartender at The Hollow Tavern

Main Positive Traits:

Empathetic

Creative

Charming

Main Negative Traits:

Anxious

Indecisive

Impressionable

Family: 

Mother: Harriett Parker

Father: Unknown

Grandmother: Virginia Parker

Biography: 

Eileen was born on July 23rd to her mother Harriet Parker.  There was no sign of Eileen’s father, but that didn’t bother Harriet much.  The girl in her arms was perfect and there was nothing that could ruin that moment for her.  By Harriet’s side was her own mother, Virginia Parker, who also fell in love with baby Eileen at first sight.  Under the watch of the two women, Eileen thrived as a child.  The only thing that ever really bothered her was the absence of her father.  She would often come up with stories for herself, imagining that he was a spy on a secret mission or a long lost king who would one day show up to tell her that she was a princess.  

Whenever she asked her grandmother about her father, she would only shrug and tell her to ask her mother.  When Eileen asked her mother, she was always evasive.  She did her best to be kind, but Eileen eventually realized her questions made her mother uncomfortable and she stopped asking.  She was more than happy with the family she had.  

As a teenager, Eileen started to have horrible nightmares almost every night, dreams that were terrifying and completely impossible for her to fully understand.  Often she would wake up paralyzed in the middle of the night to see a long limbed figure in the corner of her room.  No matter how hard she tried to scream, no sound would come out.  Eileen spent day after day in total fear and eventually, her mother took her to the doctor hoping he could help find a way for Eileen to sleep.  Eventually, they settled on a regime of sleeping pills that kept Eileen from dreaming of anything at all.  At least, they did most nights.  The dreams still came whenever she forgot her pills and the tall monstrous figure showed up a few times a year no matter what Eileen did, but she finally felt like she had her life back.  

During her senior year, Eileen agonized for months over whether she should apply for her dream film school in California.  A part of her wanted to chase that dream more than anything while another part feared that she would arrive at the school only to realize she’d actually had no talent all along.  Ultimately, she didn’t make any choice at all.  The deadline to apply passed and Eileen promised herself she would take a gap year and then apply the next year, but then never did.  She took a job as a busser at The Hollow Tavern after graduating high school before eventually being promoted to bartender.  Eileen truly loves her job and getting to talk with all the locals who stop by consistently. She always makes sure to do her best to keep up with what’s going on in their lives and remember their regular drink orders.

While she still dreams about film school, she’s more than happy with her life.  Though after Emily’s disappearance and the rumors starting to swirl about the strange things appearing in the night, Eileen is starting to fear the monsters she saw only in her dreams might be starting to appear in reality.

Other Information:

Eileen has a habit of taking videos around town and has contemplated gathering some of her friends to put together a short film. Now with the strange things that are occurring in Greylock, she's started to wonder if perhaps she should change the film's genre to a documentary.

The only people who know about her dreams are her mother, grandmother, and doctors. She's always been too ashamed to speak about them with anyone else.

While Eileen is happy and comfortable around the regulars at The Hollow Tavern, outside of work she can be shy and have a hard time approaching others for conversation.