#this sat in my wips for a bit since I was intimidated by my own work

[echo-does-art]

I've been working on this one for a while! Very happy with how it turned out :)

Lineart by my teammate @sunndropcitrus!

Version without lighting below the cut

[floral-force]

Hi! I saw your requests are currently open, I've never requested anything before, so I hope I'm doing this right. I saw this prompt:

"Here, let me buy you a new one"

and I imagined it with Simon Riley. Honestly, I think that man is too traumatised to meet his s/o in his line of work, man would be worried sick about his partner's life and I jist think it would cause him anxiety looking out for his partner's and own head on a mission. If he were to meet his s/o, I believe it would be accidentally, like he bumps into his s/o and spills her coffee or vice versa. He admires them for a moment, but continues on with his life. And then he happens to stumble upon them more often and slowly starts falling for them... I'd like the readee to be female, but it's okay with me if the reader is g/n. Also, a slowburn would be just right for my idea.... Hope this is not too bothersome, ty regardless if you decide to write it or not <3

I also personally think our beloved simon wouldn't be able to mentally focus with his SO in the field. some folks think he wouldn't be able to fall for a civ, but I’m personally more of a fan of that or a medic!reader. and, I'll die on the hill that he's a gentleman when the moment calls for it. I write requests as drabbles and short one shots (esp since im editing a few wips) so I tried to get the slow burn in as best as I could. I hope you enjoy this nonnie!!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Are You Mine?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: He bumps into her far too often for it to be mere coincidence. Suddenly, a spilled coffee leads to something more, and Simon falls deeper into the puddle he caused all those months ago.

words: 1.7k+

warnings/tags: 18+ only/NO MINORS ALLOWED, innuendo, meet cute, soft!simon, fluff, allusions to smut, slow burn, gentleman!simon "ghost riley, soft!simon, Oxford and Lincoln college are mentioned

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I. MARCH

Simon felt a small bump when he turned away from the register, and then a swear. He turned and saw a woman staring up at him, eyes wide. Coffee dripped down her hand and onto the floor, her mug half empty. This café was too damn small, and he was too damn broad. 

The woman glanced at the ground at the puddle and frowned. Simon’s heart hurt a bit at her defeated sigh, and he tapped her arm. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, immediately cursing himself for the lame apology. 

She looked up at him again with her sparkling eyes and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

An American, he noted. And a pretty one, at that. 

He shook his head, suddenly warm under the balaclava. “No, no.” He jerked his head back to the register and pulled out his wallet. “Here, let me buy you a new one.”

She gave him a weak smile, obviously intimidated. “Sir, really, it’s okay— “

“Stop, love. Let me get this sorted.”

He stepped up to the register and asked the barista what she’d ordered, and the barista put it in. Simon paid and turned back around to the woman. A gentle smile teased her gorgeous lips, and Simon couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. Before he could get another word in, his order was called—four coffees, one for each of the 141—and he was rushing out the door into the rainy March day. 

II. MAY

Soap was relentless. Pint in hand, he was swaggering up to any woman in the tiny pub, seeing if any of them would bite. Gaz sat next to him, making him shake his head with jokes about Soap. The Scot was standing at the bar chatting up a girl, and Simon’s heart stopped when he saw the woman standing next to her. 

It was the girl from the coffee shop—the one he'd bumped into over two months ago. She wore a simple but sexy outfit—one that turned heads. It certainly turned his. He shook his head when she covered her pretty mouth after Soap made a terrible joke that was timed completely wrong. Gaz commented on it, but Simon didn’t hear it; he was too focused on gathering the strength to speak to the mystery woman. 

“I’ll be back,” he said gruffly to Gaz, rising to his feet and striding over to the woman. She noticed him when he stood at Soap’s side and looked directly at him, her eyes widening. 

“I-It’s you,” she gasped. To his surprise, she smiled. “You’re the guy who ruined my coffee!”

“And promptly bought you a new one, love—don’t forget that.” He gripped his drink tighter. “Didn’t forget me though, did’ya?”

She giggled at his quick retort. “How could I forget such a clumsy, handsome man?”

She remembered him after all that time. And she thought he was handsome. 

He stammered and Soap laughed before he could get any words out. Simon glared at him when the Scottish man clapped him on the back.

“I’ll leave’ya to it, lad,” he chittered, the woman he’d been chatting up following him away.

Simon stared at her and drank in her beauty. He noticed how she shifted under his gaze, how her eyes darted between his and the floor. The pub’s music seemed to fade into the background and echo as he took her in, noticing the way her outfit defined her delicious curves, the way her hand seemed to clench her drink when her eyes met his and stayed.

He broke the awkward silence. “Not afraid I’m gonna spill your drink again, are you, love?”

She laughed, the sound of it like gentle, tinkling bells. “No. I guess I just didn’t realize how—” she waved a hand up and down—“tall you are.”

He felt his cheeks redden. “The mask ain’t scarin’ you?”

“I’ve seen worse.” She took a sip of her drink, licking her lips.

“Like what, love?” He asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“A 200-page book written in Britain from the 14th century.”

He chuckled, and she smiled up at him. “You’re right, lass—that’s far scarier than a mask.”

“Compared to that, you aren't scary at all.” 

“Care to give me your name, then?” She told him, and he repeated it, letting the sound linger on his lips. “That’s lovely.”

“And yours?”

“Simon.”

She smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Simon.”

His chest warmed at the sound of her voice saying his name. Simon finished his drink, closing his eyes. When he opened them again to set the empty cup on the counter, she was staring up at him, something sultry in her expression.

“You know, you have really nice eyes.”

“You think so, sweetheart?”

She nodded and took a step closer. Simon’s heart quickened. He could smell her perfume—something sweet and seductive—and took a deep inhale, hoping to etch it into his memory and be reminded of her every time he got a whiff of something even remotely like it.

“I’d love to see them up close.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled. “That could be arranged, love.”

III. JUNE

In Early June, Simon asked to take leave from late June through mid-August. It had only been two weeks since he’d met her at the pub, and one since they’d met again randomly in a café. After that incident, he knew he needed to see her as much as he could. Price had given him a quizzical look, a thick brown eyebrow quirked as he read the papers. He’d stared at Simon, making him feel small standing in front of his captain’s desk. 

“This important to you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

Price had sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’ll see what Laswell has to say.”

Simon had nodded and left his office. 

One week later, his request had been approved, and he was packing his things to return to his flat.

His leave now approved, Simon was hoping he’d be able to convince her to stay in England just a while longer after she graduated from Oxford—the smart lass getting her Masters—and he’d been successful. 

She agreed after their date to some random bookstore that ended with her in his bed. Simon laughed when she confessed that she’d already broken the news to her family in the States that she was staying through the summer the day after they met again in early June by accident in a small café. 

“Awfully confident, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She playfully shoved his bare, sweaty chest, her own body slick and shiny post-orgasm. 

“Don’t try me, Simon,” she scolded, her small smile betraying her attempt at a threat. “I can always get on a plane tomorrow.”

“We both know that ain’t true, love.” He dropped down to lay next to her on his side, running his hand down her torso and up again, watching her shiver.

“I can and will!” She exclaimed, hiding her growing smile under one of her delicate hands.

Simon pulled it away and kissed her, groaning when she placed her hand on his cheek. How he craved his lover’s touch. Just one taste was all it took.

IV. JULY

“Simon, English flats are not made for heat,” she muttered, fanning herself with a stack of papers. “Especially yours.”

He chuckled. She sat on the other side of his small couch, knees slightly spread apart, cotton shorts riding up her soft thighs. She gave him a shake of the head, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re the one who chose to extend her stay into the summer, love. Not me.”

“I’d say you sealed the deal back when I ran into you in that café near Lincoln and you put the moves on me.” She looked over at him, a few baby strands of hair stuck to her sweaty brow. She looked lovely, even when she was sweating from a heat wave. 

Simon smirked at her, raising his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She bit her lip and set the papers down on his dingy coffee table, scooting closer to him. Her sticky skin touched his, and she touched his shin with her toes. He ran a finger along her jawline, leaning down to catch her lips with his, the sweat on his brow running down his temples as he got even hotter when she placed her hand on his thigh, ghosting over the hem of his short cotton underpants, finally coming to rest over his crotch. She pulled back and smiled up at him, running her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch; he craved it, had been craving it ever since he’d seen her in May and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and she tugged him in to kiss his lips. In that moment, she’d sealed his fate. Simon was greedy for her, always needing her.

He still hid things from her—all she knew about his job was that he was military, but nothing specific—and always redirected any conversations that could lead to him discussing his past. Maybe he’d let her in one day. For now, he wanted to enjoy this—her skin on his, her tongue in his mouth, her scent lingering in his bed and mixing with his. Simon forgot everything when he was with her, choosing to bask in her glow instead. She blasted away the darkness within him with her radiance, gave him relief from his torments when she held him. 

He clicked his tongue when she gave his already-hardening cock a soft squeeze. “Don’t go teasin’ me unless you’re ready for the consequences,” he warned.

She straddled him, pressing her thin cotton tank top to his bare chest. His eyes fluttered close when she placed her hands on his cheeks, tapping her fingers. She kissed him again and Simon placed his hand at the base of her skull, the other gripping her waist. He felt her pull back and breathe against his mouth, something light and needy.

“Choices have consequences,” she said simply. “And I’m ready to face them.”

Simon shook his head and grabbed the underside of her thighs and rose to his feet, smiling when she squealed. He carried her to the bedroom and set her on his bed, letting her rest on her back and kissing her smiling lips once more.

He'd never been happier to have ruined someone’s drink.

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[simpingcowboy]

The Rancher's Kid

Pairing: Pero Tovar x GN!Reader, no use of Y/N, reader is described as short, use of pet names

Word Count: 2.6k+

Warnings: SMUT!! size kink (mostly fixated on height, but Pero does kind of lift up reader), very quick mention of family, passing reference to sex work, reference to oral sex, slightly degrading language, height insecurities, pentrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, bit of aftercare

Summary: A handsome stranger has a personal request for you and offers you an opportunity you cannot pass up.

A/N: Soooo this has kinda maybe been in my WIPs since Kinktober hehehe but it's heRE NOW!!! :) I did include a handy-dandy Kamasutra illustration of the position I was trying to describe at the bottom (drawing is M/F but this fic is inclusive to all! I simply could not find a M/M illustration to include 😭)

You were grabbing some water over at the local pub. Standing in the small corner where the jug of cool water sat for thirsty patrons. "The Rancher's Kid" the town's folk called you. Though it'd been many moons since you were actually a kid, the name stuck. You often were seen running around town to fulfill delivery orders for your family.

As you drink your water in the corner, a disgruntled noise interrupts your peace. You turn around, your eyes meeting the chainmail armor of the large man behind you. Looking up, you see a very handsome, rather bothered looking face. His dark brown eyes looking down straight into yours. A large scar covering over his right eye. The curls atop his head peeking over his brow as he bows his head to look down at you. He's broad, practically filling the small corner up with his width. The armor only enhances his large features, filling up even more space around him.

"Hello?" You offer up conversation meekly, unsure of the nature of his intrusion.

"You are in my way." He speaks in a thick Spanish accent.

"S-sorry" you stutter feeling intimidated. You step off to the side, clutching onto your cup of water.

You watch the stranger closely. He ridgedly approaches the water pitcher and pours himself a cup of water. You squeeze up closely to the wall behind you, finding yourself barricaded in the corner. The stranger's hand lifts the glass up to his lips to drink. You note the way his hand grips the cup with ease. His thick fingers taking up the height of the cup; his thumb and middle finger almost touching around its circumference. Looking back to your own hand you see you've barely been able to reach around the middle of the cup.

The stranger speaks again. "You are the ranchero's kid? Sí?"

"Y-yes I am…"

"What do you sell?" He asks, turning his body towards you.

"Different things, I don't have anything with me now, but I could bring whatever you need to you tomorrow?"

The stranger brings himself closer, his broad chest threatening to push into your face with each breath he takes. His harsh gaze brings itself down across your body, lingering over your form.

He hasn't taken a lover in many moons, the area around your town baren of most life. It was not unusual of him to go stretches of time without sex, the life of a mercenary not always affording him the luxury of someone to warm his bed. But he knew it. As soon as he saw you, he wanted you. You looked like the perfect little toy for him to play with.

"Are you for sale?" He asks coldly with a curious arch of his eyebrow.

"Am…am I for sale?" You repeat his question, certain you must have misheard him.

He answers you with a grunt and a nod.

An embarrassed heat runs across your face. You hastily shake your head no. "No. I'm not for sale." The stranger's gaze on you suddenly feels much heavier than before.

He pouts, and ponders for a moment. Still trapping you in the corner. "Then, what should I do- to convince you to lay with me?"

You swallow around your pride, the weight of which is sitting heavy in your throat. "I'm not sure…why should I lay with you?"

You didn't have many viable prospects realistically. The town was small, with limited availability at any one time. You certainly could not deny your attraction to the stranger, no matter how gruff he may be. With each passing moment, he grew more tempting.

The smallest smirk comes over the stranger's face. "Because little one…" He reaches up, taking your face in his hand. His large hand stretches the length from one temple to your other cheek, consuming your face in his grasp. "I will make you feel better than any man ever has before."

As much as you may like to deny this stranger the satisfaction, you couldn't deny the urge to feel those thick fingers in other places…

He'd returned you to his chamber for the night, a rented out little room off the side of a home. Pero was his name so you learned when he asked you to scream it out for him. You had learned very quickly that he was keen on keeping his promise of pleasuring you. It'd been over an hour of him teasing you with his mouth, licking, kissing, sucking. All the while stretching you out on his fingers. One…then two, and now three of his thick fingers eagerly stretching you out to take him.

"You are doing so well."

Pero greedily takes in the sight of your stretched out hole around his fingers before slowly removing them. He sits back in his haunches, towering over you laid on your back. His face and golden chest glimmering in the warm candle light. Warm brown eyes look up to peer into yours. His sulky expression is much softer than it was before.

"So stretched yet …" Unbreaking his eye contact with you, he steadily unlaces his breeches revealing his cock to you. "Maybe it will not fit." Pero says with the crook on his mouth. A teasing smirk growing on his face. He's big, long, thick. Even in his large hands, he barely fits around himself. Pero leans forward, resting his heavy cock along your hip. "Dimé, do you think your tight little hole can take me?"

You return his smirk, wrapping your thighs around his hips. "Only one way to find out."

He lets out a groan, your warm legs pulling him closer. His cock rubbing against your stomach.

"We will see, Quierde."

Pero pulls back enough to line himself up. He pushes in agonizingly slow. Letting you feel the stretch of his cock filling you up. The heavy weight of him pinning your hips to the bed. Inch after inch after inch he stuffs you full of him. Finally he plants his hips tight against yours. You swear you can feel him in your stomach.

"Bueno…muy bueno." He sighs out, satisfied with the way you've taken all of him.

He leans forward, caging you in under him as he slowly rocks his hips against you. Pero's body fills up your vision, casting his broad shadow over you. Even while lying above you, he still has a height advantage. His head starts where yours ends. You eagerly nip at Pero's neck, being the only thing really within your reach. You lap at the pulsing vein running up the length of it. Your arms stretch around his wide chest, nails scraping over his shoulders.

"More, I can take it." You plead.

Pero moans loudly on top of you. It's like you'd read his mind. He'd felt nervous about hurting you. You were well stretched out for him, but he didn't wanna break you. He was a heavy man,tall and sturdy. If he put his weight behind his thrusts he knew he'd risk hurting you, or knocking your head up against the headboard. But Pero Tovar was a man of great improvisation.

"Hold onto me."

As swiftly as he snuck into your life, he grips your hips and turns you both over. He sits back against the headboard with your legs still wrapped around him. A satisfied moan comes from his lips as he looks down at you sitting on his cock.

"Ride me." Pero asks of you.

You nod, a desire to satisfy him burning through you. Though, try as you might, your legs only barely made it from one side of his hips to the other. Your body didn't permit you the extra room needed to properly take him like this. You whine in frustration, only able to rock against him. He chuckles at your whine, causing his cock to twitch inside you.

"Shh, little one. I see." Pero's hand goes to your thighs, already so spread to accommodate his hips. "Turn around."

You do as he says, hopping off and quickly retaking your position on his lap now facing away from him. A moan coming from both of you as you sink down on him.

"Lean back against me, Girasol."

You recline against his warm chest, tucking your head under his. Reaching back to wrap your arms against his neck for support.

Without warning, Pero grabs your legs out from under you. Pulling your legs up and keeping them spread wide on either side of your body His large hands holding you tight in his grasp. Experimentally, he lifts you up on his cock, moving your whole body. Before slowly lowering you back down on him. Each muscle in his arms and chest was so controlled. Shit- how had you not noticed just how strong he was?

"There you do, Quierde." Pero bites back a growl. "Just like a pretty toy for me. You still want more?"

"P-please Pero. Play with your toy."

"Mierda" he moans loudly.

That sends him over. Any semblance of self control he had was quickly slipping from him. He lifts you again and again. Fucking you harder and faster with each lift of your hips. Enjoying the way your hands cling to his neck and shoulders.

"So good Little One…so small" his nails dig into your hips. "So tight for me."

Pero's head rolls back in pleasure. He knew you'd be so perfect for him. Letting him fulfill a fantasy, getting to use his body to its full advantage to fuck you. Even the slight burn in his arms turned to pleasure as you relinquished any power over to him. Sometimes Pero hates the mirror. His body is evidence of the many difficulties in life he's overcome. The scars, his muscles, even the scowl he wore on his face all evidence of his marred existence. But in this moment? He was so grateful to this body for bringing him to you. And for being strong enough to bring you pleasure like this.

Your moans echo off the cabin walls as you tuck your head into Pero's neck. You didn't always love your short stature. It came in handy sometimes on the farm. Being lower to the ground was convenient for gardening, or for lots of miscellaneous things here or there. Not like any of the animals cared, but other people? It felt hard to not feel a sense of inferiority. So many people towering over you, literally looking down at you. Right now though, you felt so grateful to be shorter. Letting Pero use you in ways that'd be impossible otherwise. Allowing him to fill and stretch you to your brink. You felt so safe in his grasp.

Pero's hips piston up to meet your bouncing form. Delicious groans spill from him with each thrust. A hand comes up between your legs, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look up at Pero. He growls as he leans down, meeting you in a feverish kiss. He's all tongues and teeth. Brash, but no less passionate.

"Need you to cum." He grunts into your mouth. Teeth nibbling at your bottom lip.

Pero shifts beneath you. The other snakes down and takes you in his hand. Fingers rubbing in circles and short flicks with perfect precision. Making you whine out at the way he works you. With one hand firmly in place, the other arm stretches across your thighs. Pressing them close together and pulling you as tight as he can against him. Each thrust has him slamming you back down on his cock.

"Pero!" You cry out. The tightly wound knot in your stomach threatening to snap. "I'm s-so close." You mumble, barely able to speak over the vigor with which he fills you.

"Cum Girasol!" Pero demands, lips tracing over your face and neck. As much as he longs to kiss you, he needs to hear your cries for him. His fingers work you faster, harder.

You're eager to comply. It's just too perfect. His large form, keeping you safe in his embrace, arms wrapped around you. His warm breath in your neck. Feverish kisses pressing in your skin. The way his beautiful cock stuffs you full with every hard thrust. The feeling of Pero's hair just barely brushing over your finger tips. The sound reverberating off the walls and filling your ears with the sound of delicious sin. His hand working you even closer to orgasm. Pero feels like a dream around you. A dream you happily let yourself give into. The band snaps as you cry out for the mercenary for the final time that night.

"Pero! Pero- fuck!" You moan into the room. Cumning all over his hand and leaking onto his cock. Your body pulsing around where he's still firmly fucking you. Filling you with himself all the way to the root.

"T-too good…dios Quierde. I-I" He cums with a loud cry of your name. His whole body tightening up around you. Thrusting one…two…three more times as he cums, filling your holes with rope after rope of his cum. Finishing by planting you down on his hips, keeping you on his now softening cock. His hips are just barely grinding up into you, enjoying the heat of your body. Pero heaves into your shoulder, breathing heavy from his orgasm. "Mierda…" he murmurs. His arms still wrapped tight around you, hugging you. A trail of soft kisses make their way up your neck. "Such a good toy. So good for me."

You chuckle as Pero tickles you with his moustache. You let your arms fall from behind his head to feel down along his arms. Feeling slightly dazed from the intensity of your orgasm.

Finally catching his breath, Pero asks, "Did I keep my promise, Quierde?"

"Promise?" You murmur.

He smirks, "To please you better than any man ever has before."

"Oh-" you feel your face run hot, "yes…I'd say so."

He huffs, obviously satisfied with himself. "Relax with me." He gives you little choice as he repositions the two of you together. His arms untangle from your thighs, slowly bringing them down to an outstretched position. The mercenary shimmies down off the headboard, lying down on his back and bringing you with. He's careful not to remove himself from inside you. He sighs out and closes his eyes. Strong hands come to your waist, just rubbing up along your sides. Imprinting your figure into Pero's mind. His skilled fingers draw delicate shapes into your skin where he touches you. With each deep breath of his, his stomach presses up into the curve of your back. He's so relaxed, unlike the way he was when you first encountered him.

"Pero?" You whisper, not wanting to interrupt his peace, but uncertain if he's planning on allowing you to stay or kicking you out.

"Hmm?" He groans, rubbing his eyes. "Need to rest-" he yawns "Or else I can't fuck you again."

Your face goes hot at the indication. "A-again?"

"Mhmm…you stay, Quierde." His hands hold onto your hips keeping you in place. A moan catches in his throat as you squeeze around him. "I'll clean you and then," Pero leans in to give you a soft kiss on the cheek. "Make you messy again. Okay?"

You nod quietly against his head. "Okay Pero." You say trying to hide your smile.

"Good, Little One. Now rest." He nuzzles you before planting his head back down on the pillow.

You yawn, a wave of exhaustion rushing over you. You press against Pero's warm body, letting yourself relax against him. Enjoying the gentle ache between your legs, and the light weight of Pero's soft cock inside you. His hands embrace you in a comforting hug. A soft snore coming from the man beneath you. A feeling of warmth encapsulates you as you slowly lull off to sleep. Grateful for your encounter with the mercenary.

Position name, Full Nelson

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[reidgraygubler]

bowling shoes (franklin/reader)

Title: Bowling Shoes

Request:  yes! It was requested by the wonderful @sunlight-moonrise​​

Couple: franklin (mgg’s role in beginner’s luck)/fem!reader

Category: smut

Content Warning:  SEXUAL CONTENT (degradation, praise kink, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, little bit of cockwarming ;), spanking, heavy petting, slight humiliation (i think), spitting, hair pulling, groping, creampie/unprotected sex, fingering, penetrative sex), dom!franklin, kissing/making-out, swearing, implied age gap (but they never specify Franklin’s age. So idk) (if i missed anything that needs to be tagged, PLEASE let me know!!)

Word Count: 4,224

Summary:  Reader is new in town and works at her grandfather’s bowling alley, where some people spend late nights practicing for the town-wide bowling competition.

A/N: The third day of my seven days of seven fics! This particular one shot has been sitting in my wip list since September 2020. And I just finally decided to write it. This was written with matthew gray gubler’s character from the short film Beginner’s Luck. If you haven’t seen it yet I highly recommend watching it bc it’s amazing and I love Franklin. I hope you’re all enjoying the 7 days 7 fics! I really cranked it out on all of these oneshots! Here is the masterlist for that! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!  

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Little Falls… I never understood this town's love for bowling… and I probably never will… It’s probably a good thing that I moved from Little Falls before I got old enough to actually learn how to bowl, mostly because if I did, and I didn’t bowl, I’d probably be chased out of town with a crowd of pitchforks and torches.

So, it’s probably an even better thing that I just work at the town’s precious bowling alley. But, to be fair… This alley has been in the family since it opened. 

Long story short, I hate bowling. I just needed extra cash, and my grandfather just so happens to pay me extra. Not because I’m fami-No that’s exactly why...

“You are busting my balls here!” A man shouted from the lanes. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked in that direction, looking for the owner of the shouts. I gently placed the pair of shoes down on the counter before walking around to the lanes. “You can’t be serious!” A guy wearing a yellow bowling shirt was shouting down the lane he was standing on. 

“Is… Is everything okay?” I leaned against the half-wall beside me. I propped my arms on top of the wall as I looked at him. I looked across the tables behind the lanes and noted there was only one other person, who was watching the man with such intent I was sure they’d kill him. “It’s just you playing,” I half-laughed at the guy. He spun around on his toes and pointed a finger at me. I tried to not take it as accusatory, but everything in my body was telling me he meant it as such.

“I would have gotten that pin down if it wasn’t for you,” he half-shouted at me. I lifted my hands as some form of surrender as I stepped down to the lanes. The guy in the yellow bowling shirt looked at me and cocked his head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just came down here to see if everything was alright… And if it was, I was just going back to work… Cleaning smelly rental, bowling shoes,” I gestured back towards the counter where a pile of rental shoes was sitting, waiting to be cleaned. “I just heard all the shouting down here and wanted to make sure someone wasn’t fighting with the balls,” I shrugged as I looked up at him. My joke about the balls was only mildly humorous if you knew that there were only 3 people in total in the alley. Myself, the angry stranger, and his unusual friend.

Glasses that kinda reminded me a little of Jeffery Dahmer sat on the tip of his nose, and just under his nose was a porn-stache. And the way he styled his hair just looked like a mop sitting on his head. But there was something, I don't know, attractive (I guess it was attractive) about this man. A certain handsomeness that I couldn’t exactly describe. 

“No, no, no one was fighting with the balls,” he spoke as he stepped closer to me. He looked down at me with a smile before resting both his hands on my shoulder. I sighed deeply as I stared up at him. “Now, go, run along… You said you have rental shoes to clean,” he smiled as he turned me around to face the 3 steps behind us. 

“Hold on,” I stepped away from him and turned back to face him. I had to crane my neck up to meet his stare, him being nearly a foot taller than me. “I can easily kick you out of here,” I scoffed as I looked at his shirt, finally noticing the patch sewn into the pocket of his shirt. The name Franklin was stitched into the patch with black thread in a fancy script. “Franklin,” I looked up at him and smiled. The cocky and smug expression on his face faltered for a moment as he looked at me. 

“Oh, aren’t you’re so cute,” he brought his hands to rest on my cheeks before squeezing them together, pushing my lips out. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked as he cocked his head to look down at me. I couldn’t exactly answer with my words, so I just nodded lightly. My eyes never left his face, and his never left mine.

“There’s just one thing you’re missing then. I own this place. This bowling alley... Is mine,” he kept his voice low as he spoke and the smugness returning, “Do you understand, Sunshine,” he asked, the condescension in his tone really coming out with the pet name he used. I tried to laugh and shake my head before I pulled away from his grasp. I stumbled back, nearly falling over the steps behind me.

“Since when are you my grandpa?” I asked, cocking my head to my shoulder. I could feel a teasing smile grow on my lips as I looked at him. His face shifted from being very smug to being shocked. “Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming… Did ya, Franklin,” I smiled at him. 

Franklin stepped back away from me but kept his stare on my face. “You’re not Hank’s grandkid. I would know when his grandkid would be here,” he pointed at me as he backed away from me. I snickered and shrugged.

“Well, you’d be wrong,” I smiled as I folded my arms over my chest. Franklin looked over his shoulder at his companion, seeking some sort of backup. But it was clear that she had no intentions in answering, she was far too busy just admiring him. How did he not see this as uncomfortable and wrong? 

“Aw, now you’re intimidated by the bowling alley girl? I don’t even bowl,” I scoffed before pulling my eyes off him, “I just work here,” I laughed. Franklin looked genuinely offended by my statement. Again, I don’t understand this town’s love for bowling.

“I’m sorry… What did you just say?” he looked at me and furrowed his eyebrows. Oh, I really did offend him… Do I feel sorry? Not really...

“Oh, yeah, you heard that right. It’s stupid. And, frankly, Franklin, I don’t understand how a town so quaint is so obsessed with throwing a ball at some plastic things,” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. He stepped closer to me, and for the briefest of moments, I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. And suddenly a tension was in the air between us. It was suffocating. “Did I make you mad? Did I piss poor Fwankwin off,” I furrowed my eyebrows and pouted, "Did I huwt your feewings," my head falling back as I broke into a fit of laughter.

“Be quiet,” Franklin scoffed as he stared at me. I felt my smile become a little smug as I looked up at him. 

“Oh? Really? Why don’t you make me?” I shrugged and stepped closer to him. We were so close, breathing each other’s air. One step from either of us and our chests would be pressed together. Our toes, however, were touching. His rented bowling shoes barely standing on my canvas shoes. 

That was when the air tensed even more. But, the level of tension shifted from an awkwardness… to a certain awkward-sexual tension. I personally loved it because he’s a dick. Men like him need to be messed with. Plus, I’m bored...

“Is that what you want me to do?” his voice was lower than before. My smile fell away and I swallowed roughly. I could feel my heart in my throat, cutting off any words I wanted to say. “Oh, I see how it is. All that snark and attitude is fake. Because the second someone… An older man, maybe, says something… It goes away,” he smirked as he slowly brought a hand to my face. I went to move my face away from his touch, but failed when he forced me to look at him.  

“You’re a brat,” he whispered as he kept his eyes on me. A shiver went down my spine and I had to press my legs together, slightly shifting my feet. I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling my breathing pick up slightly. 

And the moment was ruined before I even got the chance to say something. It seemed as if we both had forgotten something. Rather, someone. 

“We should get going, Franklin,” a voice asked from behind him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and pulled his hand from my face. It was obvious we both forgot that someone else was here. We were both so involved with each other that we just forgot about his companion. After a brief moment of awkward silence, he opened his eyes and looked at me, sighing deeply before speaking.

"I'm gonna be here late. You should just go home," Franklin spoke to his companion but kept his eyes strictly on me. His friend looked up at him like he was some sort of celebrity. I wasn’t exactly sure why she was staring at him like that. He wasn’t a god or anything. Unless he was, then I’d be screwed.

"It's okay. I can wait,” she smiled as she longingly looked at him. I looked back at Franklin before nodding to his friend. I’m starting to think she wasn’t even a friend of his… just a creepy and overly-devoted fan. I don’t think Franklin even noticed her obsession. “I’ll always wait for you, Franklin,” she murmured. I shifted on my foot before I stepped back.

“Bomber,” he spoke, turning to look at her. He looked down at her, his eyes telling her to leave. I only know that because Bomber (I suppose that’s her name) gathered her things and quickly left the alley. “Sorry, now where were we, Sunshine?” 

“Your friend seems nice,” I muttered, looking away from him for a brief moment. Franklin scoffed out a laugh before shaking his head.

 “She’s not a friend, just a teammate,” his voice was low as he brought a hand back to my face. Part of me was expecting him to be gentle, and I’m not really sure why I thought that. So when he jerked my head back up to look at him, I was left in shock. “But, that wasn’t where we left off. Bomber’s gone now,” he dropped his head down and looked at me through his eyelashes. 

“Which means we’re alone now,” I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He smiled and nodded lightly before bringing my face closer to his.

“Now you’re getting it,” he returned the whisper before harshly pressing his lips to mine. I couldn’t help but moan as he pulled me closer to his body. It was so hard to keep my focus on the world around us. My knees carefully buckled beneath me. If it weren’t for Franklin, I probably would have fallen to the ground. He stood his ground firm, like he was a brick wall in the wind, keeping me upright as I almost fell to the ground. 

He moved his face away from mine, but we were still close enough to feel each other’s breath. Franklin moved his free hand to my hip before carefully pushing it past the waistband of my pants. My body shifted slightly, trying to get more of his touch against me.

“The… The door,” I whispered, my eyes going to the door. Although, I truthfully didn’t care too much about the door and it being unlocked. The bowling alley closes in 5 minutes anyways.

“Who cares about the fucking door,” he muttered. I instantly looked back at him, feeling a whimper work its way out of my mouth. Franklin smiled as he moved his hand against the flimsy cotton blocking his hand from where I wanted it most. 

“Please,” I whispered, moving my hips against his hand. I hated the way he smiled. Mostly because it only further turned me on.

“Ohh, you’re such a needy slut. So wet and I’ve barely done anything,” he whispered as he squeezed my cheeks again. “You’ll get what you want, in due time,” he smiled. He pushed my underwear to the side and carefully moved his fingers between my folds. I couldn’t help myself as I ground down on his hand.

“Franklin,” I whimpered, my eyebrows furrowing slightly. He smirked, watching as I struggled for a moment. His finger slowly moving around the sensitive bud at the apex of my legs. My hands quickly held his arms, I was worried I’d fall if I didn’t hold onto him. My legs and knees became more and more wobbly as time passed.  

“Don’t cum till I tell you you can, Pretty Girl,” he whispered and pouted, “how about you open that pretty little mouth of yours, Sunshine,” he whispered, moving one of his hands to rest on my chin. I widened my eyes and took a deep breath.

I kept my eyes on him, a shaky breath leaving me, as I slowly opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out. Franklin smiled slightly before holding my cheeks and spitting right onto my tongue. He nudged my mouth shut, forcing me to hold his spit in my mouth for a moment. I had to force myself not to gag as I held his spit before swallowing it. 

“What a good little whore,” Franklin cooed, cocking his head to his shoulder. I took a shaky breath as his movements in my pants picked up pace. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked at me. I wanted to have a snarky reply, I really did. But I swear to god, my mouth and body betrayed me because an honest to god moan came from me. 

“Oh, you certainly did enjoy that,” he laughed as his movements in between my legs quickened. I looked up at him with wide eyes as a familiar tension grew in my abdomen.

But instead of saying anything else, he just put his mouth over mine, swallowing whatever sounds emitted from my mouth. He smiled, clearly enjoying my mild suffering. 

My body struggled to move, almost missing the sign of Franklin moving. On wobbly legs, my feet carried me backwards, and with Franklin's guidance, up the steps. My arms were wrapped around his neck to keep close to him. 

I was so close, I could feel the tension about to snap within me. The noises that were coming from me were becoming more desperate the closer I got to the snap. Franklin didn't seem bothered by my sounds at all. In fact, he was amused. 

He was so amused, that when he pulled his hands from my pants and pushed me over the counter, he laughed when I cried out. I wasn't sure the sound was from annoyance from him stopping, or from shock from being pushed down over the counter. His hand was firmly placed on my back, keeping me in place.

“What was that for!?” I shouted, trying to stand back up, only to be forced back down by Franklin, “You better do something better than leaving me high and dry! I swear to God!” I shouted as I wiggled my butt into his crotch. A certain hardness pressed into my butt and leg, causing me (and Franklin) to hold back a groan. Franklin’s hand was still around my waist, planted firmly on my hip to hold me against him. “Please, just fuck me already! Fuck!” I shifted my feet a bit and tightly pressed my thighs. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Franklin laughed as he shoved his knee between my legs, blocking his foot between mine to keep my legs apart more, “If you’re going to finish, you’re gonna finish on my cock. You got that, Sunshine?” he groaned as he pressed his front into my butt more. I bit my lips together, nodded and whined, hoping that was a good enough answer. “Uh huh, use your words, Sunshine. Do you understand that?” he asked as he leaned closer to my ear.

“Yes! Yes, I understand! Please,” I whimpered as his grip loosened on my hip and moved to the button of my jeans. I let out a deep relieved sigh as my jeans fell to the ground around my ankles. Although my moment of relief and excitement was cut short by a loud crack in the air, and a sudden pain on my bottom. 

“Fuck!” I gasped once I finally regained the ability to talk and breathe. My chest began heaving as my body started to get more worked up. The sudden smack on my ass went straight to my core, causing me to involuntarily moan. Franklin laughed lightly, and I could just see him shaking his head in amusement.

“What do you want, Sunshine?” Franklin asked, his voice low, lower than before. I swallowed roughly before lifting my head slightly.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, trying hard to look over my shoulder at him. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and his hair was covering his eyes. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and swept across his lower lip.

“Wrong,” he muttered before striking my butt again. A pleased shriek fell from my lips as I dropped my head down to the counter. “What do you want,” 

“Franklin, please,” my words were soft as my breathing got rougher, “Fuck me, please, do… Do whatever you-you want… To me,” my statement was punctuated by another strike on my ass. A mix of a cry and a moan escaped my lips as he gently rubbed the sore spot on my bottom. But it was only a moment before he smacked my other butt cheek. 

“Do it again! Please,” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. I waited for his hand to make contact with my bare bottom again, but instead, I got nothing. I sucked in a deep breath before letting out a soft whimper, “Please,” I begged as I swayed my hips slightly from side to side. I hoped my begging would have given me what I wanted. But at this point, I’m not sure what I wanted more, to be fucked by him, or to be spanked by him over, and over again.

After he spanked my butt for the 6th time, Franklin’s hand grazed over each cheek before lightly dragging his fingers over my core. 

“You’re so wet, Sunshine,” he whispered as he moved his fingers over my cunt. Any response I thought I had gone out the window when he pushed two fingers into my entrance. So, I guess my response came in as a moan. “Fuck,” he groaned with pleasure.  

I was in trouble. He knew that too. The way he was playing with me, toying with me to get even the slightest reaction. Trying to get me as close as possible, without actually getting me over the edge. But whenever he curled his fingers just right, or just slightly touched my clit. 

“I-I’m so close,” I cried, my body moving closer to him. Franklin laughed again as he pulled his hand away from my body. This was the first time tonight that he wasn’t touching me. His hands were away from me, and as I tried to move closer to him I found nothing.

“Stay still, I want to remember this moment,” Franklin muttered as he rested a hand on my lower back, “Are you ready, Sunshine,” he asked, his tone seemed gentle. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Mmm-hmm, yes,” I nodded, feeling my hair move around before finally falling around my face. My body shivered as the sound of his zipper went down. And my body jerked once his hands were on my hips. 

I folded my arms on the counter. But what I should have done was brace myself against it in a better way. My body’s excitement was getting the better of me, and I could feel myself stray from the counter, and slowly towards his body.

“Stay still,” he muttered as he pushed me closer to the counter. My lungs ceased to function as I felt him rub the head of his cock against my slit. I choked back a moan and pressed  my lips together. And then he slowly began pushing into my entrance.

“Oh god,” I cried, pressing my face into my arms. 

“Name’s Franklin, but God works just fine,” he laughed behind me as he slowed his entrance. I gasped as he stopped, before slamming fully into me in one go. I couldn’t stop the shout that came from the pit of my stomach.

Once we were both used to each other, he started moving, his hips quickly finding a rhythm we were both pleased with. The silent room was quickly occupied by the grunts or moans from its only two occupants, and the sound of skin hitting skin.

I slowly lifted my head, looking out at the bowling alley. Is it bad that I didn’t think that this was weird or bad? That I was being fucked over the counter by a guy I just met? What would my grandfather think if he ever knew about this? Good thing he was never going to find out.

Franklin wrapped my hair around his hand before pulling me back up so my back was flush against his chest. His movements stilled, his hips pressed against mine as he stayed totally in me. My body froze like ice as I tried to take a deep breath. My senses were suddenly overwhelmed, and I honestly loved it. 

“Fuck,” I cried, pushing my hips against him to get some sort of relief. But I only groaned as he wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me still as well. “Please,”

“So greedy, so filthy,” Franklin groaned as he buried himself deeper into me. I whimpered as I bit my lips. The bitter, metallic taste of blood found its way to my tastebuds. “How does that feel? Does it feel good,” his voice was so low, nearly a growl in my ear. I sucked in a deep breath of air, slowly turning my face to look at him. “Just holding my cock in you?” he asked before pressing his lips harshly to the side of my face. 

“I… I do…” I spoke quickly and in a harsh whisper. My muscles clenched around him, wanting something to give me help for my finish. While Franklin kept his lips pressed to the side of my face, while his hands were otherwise preoccupied. One hand was holding one of my breasts, gently kneading at it. While the other was between my legs, slowly moving around my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, please move,” I whimpered, pressing my shoulder into his shoulder a bit more. Franklin removed his hand from my chest before gently pushing me back over the counter. I let out a pleased moan once he started moving his hips again. It only took a matter of moments before the tension in me snapped, sending me over the edge. My vision turned white, and my hands balled into fists, my nails would cause indentations in my palms once my hands relaxed.

And, after a few more faulty thrusts into me, Franklin finished close behind me. His body hunched over mine, his hands holding himself up on the counter beside me. Neither of us wanted to move, still trying to calm down from what just happened. But also, the mess to follow once he finally stepped away from me. 

“I didn’t know I needed that,” I truthfully stated. Franklin laughed before standing upright. I’d be lying if I said I wanted him to step away from me. So when he eventually did, I held back the whimper. 

“Paper towels?” he asked as he fixed himself back into his pants. I swallowed roughly as I blindly pointed towards where I was cleaning the rental bowling shoes. He stepped away from me, going to grab the things he sought after. 

The mixture of the two of us slowly leaked down my inner thigh, and I just knew that mess would not be fun to clean, now or later. When Franklin returned and wiped a damp paper towel up my thigh, I jumped. 

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked as he helped me stand up straight. My legs and knees were so shaky, I almost fell. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me upright. I only struggled a little bit to pull my jeans and underwear back up, but I was very relieved when they were back around my waist.

“I had a great time,” he laughed. I swallowed roughly before stepping back away from him. I hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the counter, only to let out a sharp cry and jump off the counter. How the fuck did I forget about the pain on my ass?

“Did it feel like winning?” I asked, feeling a smile grow on my lips. Franklin looked up at me with a sly smile, cocking his head to his shoulder.

“I always win in this bowling alley, Sunshine,” he muttered as he stared at me. I blinked slowly. “Except for that one time. But every time after… Always a win,”

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[anjuschiffer]

No Point In Lying

I should’ve been working on WIPs...oops...

Note: This is pre-daminette...and while Damian does not appear, I’m still tagging this as Maribat as it part of a Maribat au...

--

Tags: @theatreandcomicfreak @genshin-and-fanfics-are-my-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

--

AO3

Lila pinched her skin as she stood outside the classroom room, waiting for her new teacher Mlle Bustier to introduce her.

She always hated introducing herself. What was the point of it when all the friends she would end up making will forget about her months later? They always promised to keep in touch and yet, they never do.

Thanks to her mother being a diplomat, Lila always found herself changing school every school year and while travel stories always captured people’s attention, it was only temporary. When she would run out of stories to tell, one by one, they would leave, disappointed in knowing that Lila had nothing else to offer.

A temporary entertainment in their eyes…

Looking at her reddened wrist covered in nail marks, Lila let out a long heavy sigh when she heard someone climbing up the stairs. 

Quickly turning, Lila was surprised to see a student running up the stairs, the boy dashing straight towards her!

“Watch out!”

Lila quickly stepped to the side, watching as the boy skidded towards the door, only to fall face flat onto the ground. Panicking, Lila helped him out, watching as the boy towered her by a whole foot. “Thank you! Can’t believe I was almost late for- say.” The boy looked at her from top to bottom. 

Lila watched as he was about to grab her hair, only to stop. “May I?” While Lila would never let anyone touch her hair, she somehow found herself saying yes. “Thanks.”

She felt as he ruffled her bangs a bit, remaining still as she let the boy fix her hair, feeling as he gently pushed strands of hairs away from her face and placed back the silver hairband she had chosen to wear that day. “And finished.” The boy proudly announced, taking out his phone and showing Lila her reflection using the front camera. “Your hairband was a bit out of place and I-”

“Thank you.” Lila cut off, giving the boy back his phone. “I didn’t think much about-” The boy let out a small gasp.

“You can’t just not worry about your hair! It looks very pretty and that shine! You already take lots of good care for it already! But doing these small-”

“I see you’ve met out new student Marcel.” Mlle Bustier interrupted, “and you’re late...again,” causing Marcel to let out a nervous laugh.

“Apologies, Mlle Bustier. I’ll try not to be late.” Marcel gave a small bow, heading into the classroom, Lila following him as he sat in the front of the classroom, next to a boy with glasses. 

“That’s Marcel Dupain-Cheng.” Mlle Bustier snapped Lila from her trance, Lila feeling the tips of her ears burning. “He’s the class president. During lunch today, he’ll be showing you around the school. But for now, let’s head inside. It’s time for you to introduce yourself to the rest of the class.”

Lila could only nod, feeling her stomach jitter for the first time in ages. 

--

Before she could even approach Marcel to ask him about the tour around the school, Lila was ambushed by her fellow classmates, one in particular shoving a phone in her face.

“Hi! I’m Alya! I was wondering if you would be willing to say- hey Marcel! I’m- hey!” Lila watched as Marcel frowned as he took Alya’s phone and raised it above his head, Lila watching as Alya struggled to take it back.

“Alya, we already talked about this. Ask people before recording them.” Marcel pocketed the phone. “You won’t be getting it until you apologize to Lila.” After an apology, Alya got her phone back and put it away. Just as she was about to ask Lila about her travels, Marcel grabbed Lila by her wrist and dragged her outside the classroom, Lila wondering what exactly was happening.

“Marcel...I don’t think she’s following us.” Lila spoke up, watching as Marcel got flustered, instantly, but clumsily, letting go of her.

“S-Sorry about that! It’s just that I know how energetic Alya can get when she gets like that and thought that-”

“Thank you.” Lila smiled, clasping her hands behind her back. “Really. Thank you.” Smiling, Marcel returned the smile, quickly going onto the promised tour, Lila absorbing his every word. 

--

Just a month into school and Lila already fitted in with the rest of the class, already having a best friend in the form of Alya. Even after running out of stories to tell them, Lila found herself invited to every girl’s outing, after school events, club meetings and evern shopping out on weekends.

Today, the girls were out having a picnic, trying to catch Lila up on the different events that happened in the school year so far.

“-but of course! We only had one guy who was willing to go with our ridiculous plan.” Alya retold, looking at all the girls before signaling them.

“Marcel!” The girls said in unison, Lila watching as Mylene, Alix and Alya laughed while Rose and Juleka simply smiled at the memory. 

“He’s just like Ivan.” Mylene added, a soft smile on her face. “He may look intimidating at first, but the moment he speaks, you can tell he’s a big softie!”

“Doesn’t help that he’s so tall.” Alix raised her hands above her head. “Guy’s a giant!”

“You’re just jealous because he’s so tall.” Alya poked.

“Have you seen his dad?” Alix almost screamed, honestly wondering if anyone has seen Marcel’s father, or was she the only one?

“I remember when I first met him,” Juleka spoke up, making Lila jump. Can you blame her though? This was the first time she’s ever heard her talk! “I was busy helping tune my brother’s guitars, sitting on the Liberty’s deck when I saw him, staring back at me. One minute he was on the grass and the next, on the Liberty’s deck, asking me to model for him.”

Now that was surprising.

“Wait, is that how he actually asked you to model for you?” Alix screeched before going into a laughing fit, Lila watching as the others soon joined in, leaving Lila confused.

“Oh,” a snort. “That’s right! How did we forget to tell you!” Alya managed to say, gesturing Rose to fill in Lila while she continued to laugh.

“Marcel runs his own fashion line: MDC! He designs and sews all of the clothing, hats, bags and accessories in his fashion line. Juleka,” Rose gestured to her blushing girlfriend, “is Marcel’s main model.”

“Main model?” Lila asks, looking at the rest of the girls. “Do you guys help model for him too?”

“Sometimes.” Mylene shyly states. “But he mainly asks Juleka, Aurore and Rose to model for him. Aurore is another girl in the school!” She quickly adds when she saw Lila panic.

“Oh? What’s this?” Alya smirked, Lila feeling a shiver down her spine. “Could Lila...have a crush on Marcel?”

“W-What?! NO! No!” lila squeaked, knowing her face contradicted her feelings. “I barely speak to him! How would I have a crush on him when the only time I speak to him is during class and that’s it?”

Apparently that wasn’t convincing enough, Alya wrapping an arm around Lila, a cheshire smile plastered onto her face. 

“Oh Lila, you can’t fool us that easily. Not that you should be shy about it. Almost everyone in the class has had a crush on the designer.” Alya confessed, Lila watching as Mylene looked away while Rose hid her face into her hands.

“Had?” Lila dared to ask. “Does-”

“Yup.” Alix quickly answered, a grin plastered on her face. “Nathaniel, Chloe and Sabrina? They’ve fallen victim to Marcel’s spell. Oh! But of course, Chloe would never admit to falling in love with the baker’s son.” Alix quickly wrapped up, noticing Lila’s pale face. Uh-oh. “W-Well, despite-”

“Despite there being many people who’ve had a crush on Marcel,” Alya picked up, hitting Alix’s shoulder, “Marcel never showed any interest in them, something about none of them appealing to him. No offense!” Alya quickly said as she looked at Mylene and Rose. “And to be quite honest, I think you have a good chance of getting Marcel’s attention.” 

“What?” Lila squeaked, feeling her cheeks burn. 

“You’re literally the first person Marcel has ever went “designer mode” the minute he laid eyes on you.” Alix clarified. “Never done it to anyone else but you.” Alya squealed.

“If you do capture Marcel’s attention- imagine it! The two of you would be the cutest couple in school! No! In all of Paris! You and Marcel, posing together-”

Lila let out a screech, feeling her face on fire as she buried it into her hands.

“No way, now way, no way!” Lila denied. “Marcel’s just someone who I admire! He’s the first person I met who welcomed me to Dupont, so of course I’m going to-”

“Alright, alright.” Alya sighed, patting Lila’s shoulder. “So you don’t have a crush on Marcel...so that means you’ll be alright with him getting your measurements and being face-to-face with him, right?” Lila’s head snapped up.

“What?” Alya showed Lila her phone, Lila reading the message. 

“Marcel needs a model right now since Aurore might not make it to his photo shoot in an hour, so of course, I told him you’re okay with filling in for her.” Lila sputtered to come up with an answer, only being able to watch as the girls dragged her to Marcel’s studio…

Or rather bedroom.

There he was, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pair of sweats, his toned arms exposed. Did he work out?

Trying to not gulp loudly, Lila could hear the snickering and whispers of good luck as the girls left them alone, Marcel giving Lila an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for making you-”

“No!” Lila accidentally squeaked out. “Help being fine- mean.” She cleared her throat, hoping her heart would stop beating so loudly in her ears. “I’m glad to be able to help a friend out.” Lila answered, hoping she didn’t cross a line by claiming Marcel to be her friend.

Judging by Marcel’s smile, she didn’t cross it, causing her heart to flutter.

“Thanks Lila, you’re truly a life saver! Now all that I need to do is-” Lila simply smiled and nodded, her breath hitching when Marcel’s fingers grazed her shoulder as he started to take her measurements.

Being so close to him, she could smell the sweet aroma of bread, a small hint of-

Oh no…

There was no hiding it anymore, no point in lying about it, because...they were right...Marcel wasn’t just a friend…

He definitely was a crush...and a huge one at that.

[dreamingofscully]

Grey Canyon 7/?

Rating: Current Chapter: PG, Series: up to Mature Categories: Western AU / MSR / WIP WC: 1450 / Total WC:  7.3k

Updated on Mondays and Fridays.

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu​ for the beta ❤️ Tagging: @impulsive-astrophile​ @baronessblixen​ @suitablyaggrieved​ @gillywitch​ @today-in-fic​ (let me know if you want to be tagged when I post!)

all chapters in order: ao3 / tumblr

CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6

CHAPTER 7: “New York”

Grey Canyon, Colorado 1885

Lunches in the dining room or kitchen, and dinners in her room had become customary. He brought her more journals, which she read into the night, staying up far too late and waking bleary-eyed and happy. It had been nearly a year since she’d been able to keep up on any new medical developments. Even though she knew she’d never get the chance to pursue a career in the field, reading about others’ work gave her a taste of her old life, reminding her of why she’d wanted to be a physician in the first place.

As happy as the articles made her, the darkness within her deepened by the same degree. That Mulder had known she’d want them made her pause and feel guilty. His friendship had been a comfort, something she didn’t know she needed. But how could friendship stay strong when it was one-sided? She tested him, poked fun at his stories, but walled herself off from anything deeper. Sooner, rather than later, she felt it would not be enough.

Would losing his friendship, an unbearable thought, be worse than sharing a part of herself that she’d buried so deeply, she felt belonged to a completely different person? Could she be the woman that she once was? The possibility of her former self re-emerging thrilled and terrified her.

It was dinner. He sat across from her, telling another story, trying to convince her of something mad. For once, she was only half-listening, lost in her thoughts of where this connection between them was going. She’d never been able to pretend very well, though, and Mulder noticed.

“You’re not listening, Dana,” he said. He wasn’t upset, even though she felt he had a right to be. “Story’s a bit too far-fetched, even for me I admit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mulder, I was just distracted.”

“Anything you care to share?” He smiled at her, his eyes soft and gentle. He never pushed, never tried to force anything out of her. Sometimes she wished he would.

The same old conversation, she thought. ‘No, I’m fine’, is your next line, Dana.

She found herself, instead, telling a story of her own.

“My father, he… was a captain in the navy, during the war,” she started, not quite believing she was telling him this. If she went far back enough, things weren’t so bad. “He’d distinguished himself, made a name for himself, despite being an immigrant.”

She looked out the window, at her own warped reflection in the frosted glass. The lamp painted her face in grotesque shadows. Her hands found the edge of her napkin, fraying the edges.

Swallowing, she continued. “He was able to use his influence to help his children get into good schools. I excelled. We were very close. I think… he was proud of me,” she paused, blinking back the threat of tears. “He died, about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Mulder said, his hand reaching across to cover hers, stilling their restless movements.

“I’d been accepted into medical school, a rare thing for a woman,” she looked back at him. “New York—it is the very best and the very worst, at the same time.”

Mulder nodded, squeezed her hand, his focus giving her courage. She trusted him, not knowing why she should. Her father told her she’d had good instincts about people, recognizing almost immediately who had integrity, and who did not. Looking at Mulder now, she knew him, almost as much as she knew herself.

“My brothers. They didn’t do so well in school. They… got involved with different sorts of people. It was a vicious circle—they could not please their father by being smart or hard-working, so they tried to win him over by bringing home money obtained from more dishonest means. My father was aware of how these… groups preyed on those who were less fortunate. Their relationship only got worse. When he died…”

Dana withdrew her hand, clenched them underneath the table. It hurt to say the words, to allow the reality of what had happened to enter the air of this room, to add to the weight on Mulder’s already heavy shoulders by sharing her burden with him.

“Because I was an unmarried woman, they took control. I had no other recourse. They would not allow me to go to school. Instead, they said I was to marry.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Mulder leaned forward.

“The person—” she stopped. “I do not like to speak harshly, to judge, but the man they wanted to give me to was just the sort of person you would expect, given their type of dealings. I suspect I was meant to be payment. Their younger sister in exchange for more power, more money.” She spat the words out like venom. The anger she’d felt when she’d first realized what her brothers intended came back with equal strength.

“I thought I could reason with them. Perhaps I could be a doctor for their ‘organization’. I would have done anything, except they would not listen. They use violence and intimidation to do what they want, I could do nothing. There was no one else after Papa...”

Dana breathed heavily and covered herself with her shawl, overcome with a sudden chill, though the room was not cold. There, she’d done it, for good or ill. She’d run from her family, abandoned her life while he had chased ghosts for ten years in hopes to bring his own back together.

“So you find yourself here, in hiding? Playing school marm and nursemaid to a bunch of —”

“Mulder.”

“I’m sorry, I just...”

When she looked up at him again, his face, normally filled with amusement and softness and passion, was now like a stormcloud, staring off into the darkness of her room. It reminded her of his outburst in her room late at night, what seemed like so long ago.

“Your mother?” he said.

“She… could do nothing. She felt my choice to be a doctor was a mistake, that I should accept my duty to the family, and be a wife. That I should accept it without complaint,” she said. Guilt rose up inside her, thinking about her mother: they would not hurt her, would they? “I don't have a family any more, Mulder.”

He rose from his chair and paced. She could feel his anger coming off of him in waves, while she shivered in place, unmoving.

“There must be something—”

“I have learned to live with my fate, Mulder.”

“I don’t accept that,” he said, waving his hands around her modest room. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“Please, sit.”

He looked at her, saw her.

“You’re cold.” He brought over a quilt from her bed and laid it across her shoulders, rubbing his warm hands along her arms before crouching beside her. She let out a shaky breath, imagined she could see the water vapor apparating between them.

“I can see your mind working. Trying to think of something to do. Please, Mulder. It is too risky.”

“Are these people really that dangerous?”

She nodded, silently pleading with him.

He looked at her, reluctant but steady, then cupped her face. “I do not agree. But I promise.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Warmth spread through her chest at his touch. She was so tired, but the weight of her secrets had been somewhat lightened, and his promise lifted her spirits. She chanced a smile when she opened her eyes.

“If all of this hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have met. Perhaps this was all meant to be, fate… destiny,” she pressed her lips into his palm, and brought his hand down to her lap. “I will not pretend though. It was terrible, and difficult, and I have not shared everything.”

But I will, was her unspoken promise.

Mulder caressed her hands with his own, remaining close. The warm lamplight enhanced his features: his stubbled jaw, full lips, strong nose. She couldn’t help it, her hand rose to his mouth, caressed his bottom lip with her thumb. He froze, searched her eyes, his anger disappearing under her touch, replaced with something else. Something she recognized, that he’d awakened within her these past weeks as well.

<i>Yes</i>, she thought, willing herself to speak the words aloud, for her thoughts to reach into his mind.

Suddenly, he blinked, and shook his head. She dropped her hand back to her lap as he stood up, taking his things and moving to leave.

He turned before opening the door. “Thank you, Dana,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “For telling me.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes with a shy smile. “Good night.”

[pappydaddy]

I Wanna Know What It’s Like (f.w.)

A/N: So, I am going to start making new Masterlists and today I was supposed to start them, but I’ve had this idea for an imagine in my head for weeks now so I am writing it instead. I also couldn’t choose who to write this for so I’m doing multiple variations of this for different characters and stuff. I decided to do Fred first bc my other Fred imagine was really sad so this is a way to make up for that unnecessary sadness.

I am also testing out a new scene divider, idk if I’ll like it, but we’ll see! This is a repost bc the tags weren’t working the first time a posted which was upsetting and I really hope that they work this time. This is another repost (last one for a while if this one doesn’t get any feedback or the tags don’t work). 

Anyway, Enjoy!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader  

Fandom: Harry Potter

Inspo: The Tik Tok audio for Let’s Be Friends by Emily Osment, links to the song below so you don’t have to search for it like I had to 😂

                  - The song the Tik Tok audio is cut from                   - Slowed version I found and really like

Warnings: None except making out I guess. Some NSFW hints and thoughts. Like downright sinful thoughts. Hints towards a kinky reader? (Is that even a warning? And is wanting to be completely railed a kink? Is it?)

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - my gif -

Y/n couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from the red-head seated next to his identical twin. The pair of them sitting farther down the Gryffindor table than Y/n and her friends. The hall was silent as all the students were working on their essays, being monitored by Snape, but the greasy Potions Master nor the rules silenced the twins - them having found a loophole that let them annoy the largely hated Professor. There was a rule about no talking, but he couldn’t punish them if they never spoke actual words, could he? From where she sat, she could hear their loud grunts and hums from their wordless conversation with each other.

She didn’t understand the sudden fascination with the Weasley boy. It confused her since when she had left Hogwarts last year, she found him annoying, but alas, once she laid eyes on him for the first time this year at the Welcoming Feast, something had changed. She definitely couldn’t pin-point it to save her soul. Maybe it was the fact that he had grown his hair out, but then she’d also be attracted to his twin since he had done the same. Could it have been that she finally developed her attraction to bad boys? Was she looking to spice up her dating life since her past boyfriends had been quite lackluster with their golden-boy attitudes? Whatever it was, it made her question her sanity since this was Fred Weasley she was talking about. The same boy who decided it would be funny to throw a large Dungbomb into her dorm in First Year. She had stunk for a good two weeks along with the only other girl that was in her room at the time.

“L/n,” The monotone drawl of Snape made her feel like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her - which she was thankful for since she could sense her thoughts for the red-head were about to take a steamier turn. Gulping, she slowly turned her head to look at the scowling man donned in black. “I suspect that you’re done your essay already since you certainly do not look like you’re working on it anymore. Didn’t take you to be too keen about potions based on your unsuccessful potion brewing.” His voice was slow and sharp, showing that he was not in the mood to even be pleasant to Gryffindors.

“Almost, sir. Just a bit distracted. Sorry, Professor.” She shrunk under his hardening glare, realizing that he probably didn’t want her to answer his statement.

“Five points from Gryffindor for talking, L/n.” Snape sneered making Y/n’s jaw fall in shock. Her eyes stared up at him in disbelief. He was the one who talked to her first!

“But I was just-”

“Another five points from Gryffindor, need I take more?” Snape asked in a threatening tone, his frame seeming to grow and tower over the girl, intimidating her. She gulped, shaking her head nervously, remaining silent. She might not be someone who thought things through before acting, but she certainly did learn from her mistakes - usually after the second time. With a nod and a flick of his long cloak, Snape stalked along the table, glaring at the Weasley twins as they continued on with their nonsense, pushing his buttons as he waited for the moment one of them slipped up. Huffing as she casted one last glance towards Fred, she couldn’t help letting the question slip through her lips.

“When did he get hot?” Her eyes widened when she realized she muttered the words out loud. Her friends looked up from their own essays, snickering at the red-faced Gryffindor. A few other Gryffindors looked up at the girl in confusion, but she noticed that her quiet voice hadn’t reached the students near the Twins. She let out the breath she held, thinking that she was safe from embarrassment from Fred hearing and Snape hearing, but her false sense of security was yanked out from under her.

“Another five points from Gryffindor, Miss L/n!” She cringed, peeking up to see Snape glaring at her from the middle of the Great Hall. A groan emitted from her before her forehead fell against where she thought her pile of parchment and books were only for it to thud against the wooden table harshly. She didn’t react, only hissing and scrunching her face in pain but otherwise keeping her head down.

_____________________________________________________________________

Saturday was the day of relaxation. Where you ignore all your problems like the load of homework you had due on Monday. The day was designed for this, putting everything off and worrying about it on Sunday when you had a pile of work that needed to be done in the single day. Y/n was the queen of blissful Saturday ignorance which is why it was so surprising to see her sitting outside, staring blankly at the lake (at least they thought it was the lake) as she clearly worried about something. Her friends, in turn, ended up breaking their Saturday tradition to worry about their friend.

In reality, Y/n wasn’t staring at a wall and she really wasn’t worried about anything. As her and her friends sat under the shade of a large tree, the Weasley Twins were tossing something into the lake. She was sure they were up to something, but that wasn’t on her mind. What was on her mind was the fact that she was still trying to figure out why she liked Fred Weasley. She had figured her feelings for the boy when she saw him flirting with some random Ravenclaw Prefect to create a distraction for George to slip past the Prefect and place their product in her bag that sat on the floor by her feet. Before realizing what the two masterminds had plotted, she felt a wave of unfamiliar anger flaring in the pit of her stomach - something she later diagnosed as jealously.

Her thoughts were definitely clouded with steamy thoughts that could be the contents of a dirty movie. As her eyes scanned over the tall boy standing at the shore of the lake, laughing mischievously with his twin, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was different than her past experiences. He was a flirt, he talked a big game, but when it got down to it, did he really know how to please her? Did he know how to make her scream louder than she ever has? Would he be scared to hurt her or would he not think twice to push her into the mattress and completely destroy her? “Y/n!” Her friend shoved her, making her almost topple over. Snapping her once glazed-over eyes to her friend, she saw her friend group blinking at her expectantly.

“What,” She asked, clearing her throat when her words came out too high to be played off as normal. The friend that had pushed her shared a concerned look with the others before looking back at the wide-eyed girl whose cheeks had become tinted with pink when she retraced her thoughts. “What do you want Cami?”

“We were talking about Cedric and asked you a question-” Another friend, Alyssa, popped into the conversation. Cedric, Hogwarts Heartthrob and Golden-boy. When Y/n broke up with Roger Davis, they were sure her and Cedric would pair up, they were the most attractive students at Hogwarts, they would be the power couple - it must have been destined. Y/n was even convinced that they would end up dating this year, but once she caught sight of Fred, that all went out the window. She wasn’t entirely convinced that it was entirely the oldest twin’s doing since when Y/n saw Cedric on the platform before boarding the train, she questioned what all the fawning was about. Sure, he was attractive, but he was too good. If she had dated him, she’d probably end up bored of the relationship just like the others.

“Repeated it ten times, too.” Her Hufflepuff friend, Sophie, spoke up.

“We wanted to know when you guys were going to get together? Word has it, Cho and him have been talking, you might want to jump on him when you have a chance! Ask him to the Yule Ball!” Cami regained control of the conversation. Y/n shrugged, opening her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by her other friend pointing off towards the lake.

“Look! Janet Green is going to ask Fred to the Yule Ball,” Alyssa exclaimed in a hushed, gossipy voice. Y/n instantly looked towards the lake to see the same Ravenclaw Prefect Fred flirted with approaching the snickering twins. “I heard she’s been plucking up the courage for days. Poor girl, hope he says yes. It’d be awfully embarrassing to be turned down after it’s all she’s been talking about!” She gushed in a fake sympathetic tone. She lived for drama and gossip, no matter what Fred answered, it’d be good for her since she’d be able to spread the news.

The group watched, Y/n hoping that Fred would say no. Janet started to talk, nervously playing with the ring on her pointer finger as she talked to him, George watching with a playful smirk on his face still. Y/n took in the younger twin’s form, seeing his shoulders shaking ever so slightly with smothered laughter, the smirk on his face saying that he knew the answer his brother was going to give. Y/n furrowed her brows as he obviously enjoyed the situation his brother was being placed in. “I can’t watch this-” Sophie gasped, being cut off.

“Be quiet, they’ll know we’re watching!” Alyssa hissed at her, whacking her with the muggle magazine her mother sent her. The snap of the magazine resulted in George flicking his eyes up to the group, all of their eyes widening, but his smirk just grew more and they could clearly see a sparkle in his eyes when he noticed Y/n staring intently down at the group. They could all see that his eyes stayed on her for a solid second, singling her out before he sent her a knowing wink before he looked back at his stammering twin.

“That,” Sophie breathed out. “Did not go well, poor girl.” She finished with a real sympathetic sigh.

“Yeah,” Alyssa let out a fake sigh before smiling brightly. “I’ve got to go tell Alicia Spinnet, she owes me ten sickles!” And with that, she scrambled up and was running towards the castle.

“Alyssa, no! You’ll embarrass the poor girl further!” Sophie gasped, chasing after her Gryffindor friend. Cami watched the two runoff, but Y/n couldn’t be bothered with them. She was too busy trying to decode what had just happened. From her thoughts to George’s wink. It was all like a secret code. She watched closely as George poked fun at Fred once the embarrassed Ravenclaw was far enough away. She hummed, noticing George trying to discretely point towards her as he tried to convince Fred of something. She could see Fred’s hair blowing slightly, the flaming hair looking smooth. Suddenly, her mind was clouded once again, imagining how it feels to have him press her up against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, their lips locked together in a heated kiss, their tongues invading each other’s mouth, her fingers tangled in the locks of fire-

“What are you doing, Y/n,” Cami asked, snapping her out of her daydream. She looked over at her friend to see her with furrowed brows. “You were,” She paused, looking disturbed by the next word she was going to say. “Moaning, I think?” She wasn’t even sure what Y/n was doing. Y/n would have normally flushed in embarrassment, but it seemed like her mind had a different plan. She wanted to know what the big deal about Fred Weasley was about. There must be something about him that she wanted, why else would she be plagued with these curiosities? She can’t even look at the guy without suddenly wondering something about him. She wanted to know how his lips tasted, to know if his hair was soft, if her fingers could glide right through his locks without getting caught on any tangles. She wanted to know everything her mind was wondering.

“I’m going to go get answers, that’s what.” She told her friend, making Cami more confused as she stood up, her eyes on Fred and George. George, seeing that Y/n was storming her way over, looking like she was on a mission quickly told his brother who seemed to freeze before turning around to see that his brother was telling the truth. After a second of shock, he plastered his normal smirk on his lips, but Y/n could see the nervousness in his eyes. She had studied that smirk since the beginning of the year after all.

Cami watched in shock and confusion as her friend marched up to Fred, standing in front of him. The tall boy looked down at her, his smirk still on his face (looking normal to her) as Y/n craned her neck to look at his face. “Hey, Fred.” Y/n smiled, completely unsure of how she was doing this. Her inner self was having a complete meltdown, her brain being overridden with confidence.

“Hello, Y/n.” He perked an eyebrow at the girl, feeling her confidence rolling from her, a stark difference from Janet a mere few minutes ago. She hummed, a smirk that she didn’t even know she could produce stretching onto her face. It was like she wasn’t even in control of her body, she was being driven by her sheer attraction to the boy standing in front of her.

“Let’s be friends so we can make out,” She came right out with it, Fred’s smirk falling as he nearly choked on his own spit, taken back by her statement. “You’re hot, I wanna know what it’d be like. We can go to the Yule Ball, sneak away to make out in a dark hallway,” She shrugged, her eyes glistening with the normal flirtatious sparkle Fred held in his. “Don’t you wanna know what it’d be like to make out with someone who has only been with good guys? Show me the wild side?” She stepped closer to him, her hand skimming his hip as she did so, her hip bone hitting just below his hip due to the height difference.

Fred was silent, his pupils completely blown as he processed what was going on. Her confidence faltered slightly, but she then remembered all the flirting tips she had read in Alyssa’s magazines. Walk away, leave them wanting more. She picked the dropped confidence up, adding more onto the surge she was miraculously given somehow. “If you want to take me up on the offer, you know where to find me.” She rolled up onto the balls of her feet, pressing a soft kiss to the skin close to Fred’s mouth while still being able to say it was the cheek before spinning around and sauntering back towards stunned Cami. It took everything in her to fight against her inner self that wanted to die right there not to drop the smirk, hoping that he’d come after her once he got over his shock.

The hand wrapping around her wrist didn’t surprise her, she almost knew it was coming. In a swift movement, she was whirled back around, facing Fred who panted slightly, a flirty smirk on his face as he gazed down at her. “I think I’ll take the offer,” He hummed, his eyes dropping down to look at her lips, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip hungrily. “You and me, the Yule Ball and a dark hallway, see you then.” He pressed a kiss to the very corner of her lips, regaining his confidence before releasing her wrist and walking back towards the lake where his brother smiled proudly. She watched him, the corners of her lips feeling the aftershocks of having his lips touch her. Cami walked up to stand beside her, looking at Fred and George as well.

“Guess you’re gonna need to get a really sexy dress now,” She commented, nodding absentmindedly. Y/n hummed in agreement, stunned that it had worked and that she had actually just did that. “Now I know why you’re a Gryffindor,” She added on before grabbing Y/n’s arm and dragging her back to the castle. “Come on, we need to make a list for possible dresses and Alyssa owes me the ten sickles Alicia is giving her.”

[xazz]

Moth Wings 4

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

It’s a very spooky scary time in the US right now. So it seems the best thing to do is to post some extra chapters of Moth Wings. Because vampires are less scary then the current political climate :,)

----

In the morning after breakfast Altair brought the violin case into Desmond’s room. Desmond was playing with some blocks. Altair took the bow out first and tightened and waxed it properly. Then he put the violin up under his chin and started to tighten the pegs. He drew the bow acros the strings and they gave a jumbled dissonance of out of key notes, making him wince.

Over the next hour or so Altair tuned the violin, testing each string one at a time then all together and then playing something, hearing the dissonance, and retuning it. It was slow going really. His ear wasn’t as trained as it used to be. Before all this he’d had nearly perfect pitch and could tell what was out of tune and how much to turn the peg effortlessly. This was taking a great effort now.

Finally he had the instrument tuned and he stood up. “Alright Desmond, I want you to sing along,” he said and drew the bow across the strings with an open neck. The chord was harmonic and beautiful. 

He was out of practice playing too and his first attempts were clumsy. He screwed up notes and played things out of tune as he tried to remember some songs he’d once memorized.

The first day was full of failures and his fingers hurt after every attempt. He wasn’t used to playing anymore. After he put Desmond asleep for the night he laid in his bed and cried over his cramped hands, the strings had dug in so deeply they’d nearly drawn blood. It wasn’t even the pain though. It was that he couldn’t play like he used to. He’d grown up playing. He’d spent his entire life playing. And these three and a half years he’d been forced to stay here in the castle had robbed him of calluses and memory of how to do what he loved.

But he tried again the next day, pacing himself instead. He played a bit until his fingers hurt and then stopped and played with Desmond. When his hands felt better he tried again, stumbled his way through a song, and rested his hands again. The next day his hands didn’t hurt as bad.

He spent the next week or so doing that. Playing little ditties on the violin for Desmond’s amusement and building up his muscle memory and hand strength again. It wasn’t all gone really. It had just been buried. By the end of the week he remembered most of it but he still didn’t have the hand dexterity anymore for quick songs.

He needed a rest after a week. He didn’t bring the violin out and instead read Desmond story books. His hands had hurt so much that night and he needed to rest. Desmond liked the story books and picked out all the ones he liked he wanted Altair to read. As he did he tried to encourage Desmond to say some of the words with him. He never did.

As he was putting Desmond to sleep the boy was fussy and whiny. “What is it, Des? Hmm? What’s the matter? Why are you so fussy huh? You’re usually so good about going to bed.” Desmond, of course, didn’t say anything. But he sat up, stopping his fussing for a moment, and crudely mimed playing a violin like Altair had. That surprised him. “You want me to play you a song?” Desmond nodded. “Okay,” he got up from the bed and went to get the violin.

He made sure the instrument was tuned and sat on Desmond’s bed again. He played a simple lullaby instead of a ditty. His father used to play it to him when he was little to help him go to sleep so he only knew it by ear. Umar claimed Altair’s mother had written the piece and Altair liked to think Umar playing it for him was his way of having his mother sing to him at night. It wasn’t a sad lullaby like a lot were but it was down beat.

It was the first time he felt he played with any confidence since he’d brought the instrument here. He closed his eyes as he played, going by feel alone. The lullaby itself wasn’t very long. A dozen or so bars and he repeated them a few times. Eventually he opened his eyes and saw Desmond was sound asleep. He smiled and leaned over, kissing the boy’s cheek. “Goodnight, Desmond,” he said softly.

He started when he heard soft clapping and spun. Standing in the open doorway was the foreign vampire, Malik. Altair’s eyes got very wide and he swallowed. Shit. Had he seen Altair kiss Desmond goodnight? He was pretty sure the Matron would have a fit if she knew. “That was beautiful,” Malik said, just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to wake Desmond. “Come over here,” he beckoned.

Altair hesitated only a moment before obeying. Malik stepped out of the door and into the hall, he closed the door behind Altair to not disturb the babe. “You play very well,” he said.

“Thank you,” Altair swallowed.

“Have you played long?”

“Since I was a boy,” he said, looking down. 

He started and flinched when the vampire grabbed him by the chin. “I told you the last time we spoke, look at me when you speak to me,” he said, making Altair look at him.

“Sorry, sir,” he swallowed.

“You learned to play when you were a boy?” Malik kept hold of his chin, like he knew Altair would look away the moment he was allowed. He wasn’t wrong. Altair nodded. “Who taught you?”

“My father. My family has made violins for musicians in the valley for five generations.”

“And you too?”

“I would have. But I was chosen to attend the castle and young master Desmond,” he swallowed.

Malik finally released his chin and he took a step back but didn’t avert his eyes. “Follow me,” was all Malik said and turned around. Altair wilted but did follow Malik. He was surprised when Malik led him into his chambers. In the week or so since his arrival he’d decorated and added his own things to the chamber. Did he intend to stay long? Malik fell gracefully onto a sofa. “Play for me,” he ordered.

“Ah— excuse me?” Altair squeaked.

“The song you played for the boy was lovely. I want one too.”

“Ah— I’m very out of practice. It won’t sound good,” Altair stammered.

“I won’t notice. We don’t have instruments like that where I’m from. Now play me something,” he put his arms on the back of either side of the sofa. Altair swallowed and put the violin up under his chin again. He closed his eyes because seeing Malik watching him was intimidating. He tried to think of something, anything, to play but he came up with nothing. He couldn’t remember a single sheet of music, couldn’t picture a single bar in his head. And Malik was waiting.

He just started playing. Nothing quick, his fingers weren’t fast enough for an upbeat song. He just played how he felt which was all he could do. He could imagine the notes like drops of water, splattering in a pool, and that helped him along. He played something that reminded him of before he was in the castle and he’d go down to the lake near the town and watch the mist lift during the morning. Tranquil, secluded, and with a touch of melancholy. And he knew he’d never get to watch a sunrise over the lake in a long time. Maybe ever again. Who knew how long vampires took to grow up. Desmond might be a child the rest of his life.

As he thought that the music turned from melancholy to sad, long mournful chords that Altair felt in his bones. Playing and hearing the music just made him even sadder. Desmond was two but he didn’t look like he’d aged a day since he’d hatched. Who knew how long it’d be until he looked like he was five, or ten, or fifteen, or old enough for the masters. Altair could be here forever. This could be his entire life now. Taking care of a young vampire who’d never grow up.

He jerked and his eyes flashed open when someone grabbed his wrist holding the bow. Malik was standing in front of him. “Why are you so sad?” Malik asked and to Altair’s horror he reached up to his face and wiped away a track of tears streaming down both cheeks. “What’s William doing to you?”

“N-nothing. I should go,” and before Malik could stop him he bolted.

[quickspinner]

WIP Wednesday 6/3/20

Adélaide Sardou was a tall, angular woman with a commanding presence almost as powerful as her voice. It served her well on stage and in crowds, but she didn’t seem to know how to turn it off (or she chose not to), and being in a small space with her tended to feel overwhelming. She walked into the small café like the diva she was, oversized sunglasses and all and scanned the tables for him. Luka waved to get her attention. He saw her chin jerk when she saw him and chuckled as people practically jumped out of her way.

Luka had grown up with Anarka Couffaine, who’d had a different energy but just as much force behind it, and Juleka, who’d had a runway walk so fierce it made everyone in the front rows lean back every time she was on the catwalk, so he wasn’t phased by the aura of mystique she projected. 

Besides, he’d known Addie since university and it was hard to be intimidated by a woman he’d taken to the emergency room for a fractured coxis when she’d landed on her ass after the botched kegstand that that idiot American jock had convinced her to try. “Good to see you, Addie,” he said, standing to greet her. They exchanged a bise and Addie squeezed his arm briefly before they sat back down.

“It’s been ages since I saw you last,” she said as they waited for the food they’d ordered. “You’ve barely been answering even my business texts.”

Luka sighed and tried to smile. “I’m really sorry about that. I’m trying to be better.”

“You look better,” Addie said, tilting her head slightly. “Not so...sleepy. Are you resting better?”

“Sometimes,” Luka shrugged, but he didn’t really want to talk about it just then, even with someone he’d known as long as Addie. “So, Spring Recital,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I know I haven’t been as engaged as I should and I’m sorry. Can you bring me up to speed on where we’re at?”

“Right,” Addie said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a folder, setting things out on the table between them. “I’ve reserved our usual venue and my students have chosen their pieces. Here’s the ones I need backup for.” She slid a list across the table, and then tapped one painted nail on a name. “This is the one I wanted to talk to you about. She’s really good, Luka, probably one of my favorite students I’ve ever taught. I want her to do the showcase piece, but if you don’t have any students who can match up to her, I’d rather use canned music.” 

Luka gave a thoughtful hum, looking at the name and the piece listed next to it. “Do you have—” Addie was pushing a CD across the table to him before he even finished speaking. Luka quirked an eyebrow at the choice of medium but picked it up and set it next to him on the table. 

“She’s track six,” Addie told him. “You’ll know her when you hear her. I was thinking maybe piano and guitar? Maybe drums if you can keep them from being too heavy.

Luka nodded. “I’ll listen to her and see who I’ve got that matches her style that might be willing. I’m not going to pressure anyone into it though, Addie, you know I don’t believe in that.”

Addie waved that away; it was an old argument. Their teaching styles were as different as their personalities, and when they’d first gotten the idea to have Addie’s vocal students pair with Luka’s instrumentalists and collaborate on a few recital pieces, it had seemed almost crazy. Luka had always managed to match up groups that worked, though, and he was of the opinion that the students worked a little harder when someone else was counting on them. 

“Just let me know once you’ve got an arrangement put together,” Addie said, “And we can work out a rehearsal schedule.” 

“Who else is on board for the recital?” Luka asked, and they spent the rest of the lunch gossiping about their colleagues. Luka was sadly out of date on the news and he cringed a little as Addie related the latest drama to him. He should definitely touch base with some people.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to come home with me?” Addie said, leaning on the table. “I could stand to blow off some steam and I’m sure you could too.” 

Luka shook his head and he could feel his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile too broadly. “I’m actually seeing somebody at the moment.”

“Oooh,” Addie raised her eyebrows, a sly grin of her own spreading over her face. “Is it serious?”

“It’s new,” Luka said, avoiding her gaze as he poked at his food, still smiling. “But yeah, it’s pretty serious. For me, anyway. It’s...things are...well—” He bit his lip to stop the fumbling, and shrugged just slightly. “She’s got baggage. And it’s not like I’m exactly rock steady myself right now. So...I think it’s gonna go slow, but…” That smile was trying to break through again. “But I think it’ll be worth it.” 

“Worth it, like, the one worth it?”

Luka made a noncommittal noise but he still couldn’t look her in the face.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Addie said, eyes narrowed, and he felt all the force of her personality on him in that moment. “Spill.” 

“Her son is one of my students,” Luka admitted, leaning his chin on his fist.

It was almost comical, how fast her eyes flew open. She leaned forward slightly. “You’re dating a client?”

“Technically, no,” Luka mumbled. “Technically, her ex-husband is my client.” 

Addie didn’t answer for a moment and he flicked his eyes up at her.

“Luka,” Addie sighed, shaking her head. “You never do things the simple way.” 

“Never,” he agreed, sitting up straight. “It’s a Couffaine thing.”

[mxpseudonym]

Extra

Pairing: Tommy x OFC

*This is an OFC from a current Peaky WIP I wish would magically write itself*

Summary:  Tommy’s first attempt at exploring the “extra” with his gal pal.

Length: 1675 words

Warnings: Shmutty, slightly aggressive sex, dirty talk, choking, cursing, misuse of kaleidoscopes, maybe don’t read at work, 18+, NSFW

A/N: Tis my first Peaky smut and it feels a bit uncalled for, but it’s a fun distraction to my main WIP

(Where does this take place you ask? On a couch somewhere.)

Tommy Shelby liked fucking.  

He enjoyed and was accustomed to the immediacy and touch starved intimacy that came with fucking. With his routine of late nights and early mornings, he couldn’t help but enjoy the efficiency of it as well. Kissing, playing, foreplay wasn’t always necessary, they were extra.

Rose liked the extra.

“Just enjoy,” She’d tell him every so often, forcing patience upon him. She was an adventurer with a specialty in exploring the teasing and addictive acts that forced one to practice restraint. For Tommy, those were acts like kissing.  

Her legs tucked under her and her front pressed against his side with the aid of his arms wrapped around her and pulling her closer. Cradling his face in her hands, she tenderly moved her lips tongue against Tommy’s. Even when the occasional moan and shift closer, no moves to take things further were made. This was where they were, and where they had been for God knew how long before Rose leaned back only to have Tommy follow for another kiss. She licked her lips and looked up at him.  

“I think,” She began but was distracted when he leaned in again. The delicate caresses had entrapped him, and by God, she was going down with him. His hand ghosted up her side, eliciting a sigh, but didn’t stop her hand from pressing against his chest. “I should check the time.”  

“Stay with me.” A request made with the brushing of noses and his thumb gently caressing her cheek for extra leverage. She further melted into the puddle she was becoming.  

“I should try to get back to London tonight,” She spoke, staring at his lips, already missing the feeling. Fuck it. She ignored the responsible voice that was trying to pry its way into situations where it wasn’t wanted and ran her hands from his chest to his neck, pulling him to her. He moved to her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, letting soft kisses become gentle nips.

In an absent-minded trance, they made steady work of their clothes before Tommy moved Rose back, laying above her and wrapping her legs around him. She let out a gasp at the feeling of his fingers examining the state of her.

“Fucking dripping, love.”  

“Just for you.”

He wasted no time sliding into her, but they weren’t in a hurry. Each stroke was a thoughtful and complete movement from head to hilt. Her knees were at his rib cage, back arched and head tilted back. He reached up and grasped her face in his hand, so she was looking up at him, bruised lips and eager eyes, face beautiful and flushed.  

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he spoke words that were far dirtier than the act itself. Rose’s lips parted, and she tightened at the compliment, piquing his curiosity. She was so responsive, he needed to see what he could do to her. First, he changed his pace, a few quick, deep thrusts that made her gasp and squeeze her eyes closed. Divine, but he needed to see her. “Look at me.”  

Her eyes opened again, and his hand slid to her throat next. They’d never done this before but the feeling of his hand around her, even without pressure, was enough for her to bite her lip in anticipation. “Touch yourself.”

He watched her hand slide between him, but let her eyes rolling back be the evidence of her obedience. He could feel her tightening around him and chose then to squeeze her throat ever so slightly and move faster.  

She forwent announcing her undoing in favor of calling out the man responsible by name. Her gasps, clenching walls, and shaking legs only spurred him on. He squeezed a bit tighter and sped up, continuing going deep.  

“Fucking gorgeous, taking me so well like this,” he groaned.

All thoughts except doing anything Tommy ordered left Rose’s mind. Not that she needed anything else. She whimpered as he continued his words, sweet compliments aligned with filthy words and more commands for her to touch, look, speak. And his actions, alternating from sweet to rough second to second, made her mind swirl.

She was a petite woman, but it was rare that he ever made her feel small. Tommy often teased that her confidence added half a foot to her because there wasn’t a man who could intimidate her. But at this moment, he so easily flipped her onto her stomach, making her yelp, then pulled her up to her knees and placed her hands on the arm of the couch for support. He followed this with trailing fingers along her sides and kisses between her shoulder blades. He slid into her again with no mercy, burying himself deep while gripping her ass hard enough to leave bruises before massaging the flesh. His hands moved to her hair and pulled her up, back against his chest while the other hand trailed up to knead her breasts.

He looked down at her, taking her in and feeling her against him, around him. Her skin matched her name as it grew more sensitive to his touch. This was what she wanted. She’d told him he could be rougher with her, explaining certain things she’d done before, what she liked, what she’d considered doing. He’d been rough before, more out of a need to release aggression than pure pleasure, but never physical the way she’d described.  Playing was something extra.

It had been nearly a month since she’d opened that door, and with their busy schedules it hadn’t come up, though he remained interested. She didn’t pressure him but had them come up with safe words just in case. From her breasts, his hand moved to the apex of her thighs to swirl over her clit with an aching lightness, and the other from her hair back to her throat, knowing that the word “kaleidoscope” would slip from her mouth should she need him to stop. And, in her words, were her mouth to be full, three slaps to the arm or thigh would do. But that would come later. Like their safe word that he initially raised an eyebrow at, he agreed to her suggestion to explore because it clearly made her happy. However, hearing her throaty moan at the strategic mix of his control over her air supply and the amount of pressure given to her clit made him feel something akin to gratitude for the things he considered extra. If nothing else, it was fucking erotic.

“You’re being so fucking good for me, love. I want to feel you come all over me again, yeah?” He spoke gruffly in her ear as he found his strong, deep, and quickening stride.

“Fuck, Tommy.” She whimpered. He’d change that. There were a few things he’d rather hear her call him, but that would also come later.  

“Then we’ll see about painting this gorgeous face, hm? Let’s ruin all that makeup, eh love?” He watched her eyes roll back, and her lip finds its way between her teeth at the thought. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You like that don’t you? Being on your knees, covered with me?”

“I-I’m gonna,” she panted as her hands gripped the couch and his wrist for support.

“Come for me.” He gave the orders, and she carried them out, gripped around him as he thrust deep. Her cries and writhing body forced him to cut any recovery time short. In a moment he was out of her, and she was guided to her knees by her hair as he worked himself to his completion. Even in her state of bliss, she opened her mouth, offering her tongue as she looked up at him through her lashes. That was enough for him as he growled, “Fuckin’ hell woman.”

With each burst, Rose seemed increasingly pleased at her glistening state. He watched her replace his hand with hers, lapping at his head before giving it a kiss and sitting back on her heels. Both of them were panting but equally transfixed. He held a hand out to her and helped her up, immediately capturing her lips. She tasted like her and him and everything they’d yet to do together. A blanket was securely wrapped around her, and his own underpants were pulled on before he led her to the bathroom.

It amused him that even with her legs still wobbly, their roles began reverting back to her being the chatty one and him being the man of few words. She caught her breath and let a discussion about it being while he sat her on the counter. He smiled at her still beaming face as he passed a warm cloth over her face, ridding her of her makeup and the evidence of indecency.

“And to think all of this came from me asking for a kiss goodbye,” she thought about it, making him chuckle.

“Close,” he instructed her softly, and she closed her eyes and let him restore her eyelashes to their previous glory. She went quiet and let him tilt her head with his gentle grip on her chin to give her a once over when he was done.

“Tommy?” She asked and received a hum in response. His hand ran through her hair. “Did you, you know, enjoy yourself? I don’t want you to do this just because of me if you don’t like it.” She could feel him move closer.

“Open your eyes,” he told her, and they fluttered open to look straight into his. His hands were placed on the counter on either side of her, and he smirked. “If you can’t tell how much I enjoyed that, then I don’t know what to tell you, Rose.”

“I’m just making sure,” she shrugged and leaned forward to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, eh?” He rubbed her arms, generating a bit more heat. “Now, let’s get you some tea.”

“Tommy, it really is getting late.”

“Well, who’s to say your car even has enough petrol for the drive anyway?”

“Tommy!”

[sinfulwonders]

I think prompt #82 would be cool! Anyway you’d want to take it. Maybe pregame where they both are at a party? Honestly I love your writing and I think you could do something cool with it! Fluff/Angst/NSFW whatever you’d like! Preferably a happy ending of some sort of possible! Thanks for the consideration!

Wow. I am so so SO sorry this took so ridiculously long to write. I hope you enjoy it anon. I had most of it written a while ago, but doing the WIP challenge I found it and decided to finish it! Again, so sorry it took forever. It’s ingame, not pregame, so I hope that’s okay!

The Party

Words: 4613

Prompt: 82.  “You’re really drunk right now. I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this.”  “I’m not drunk at all. You’re just blurry.”

Summary: Shuichi goes to a party! Drunk shenanigans ensue!

“So, Saihara-kun, did you decide whether you are coming to my party tonight?” Shuichi jumped at the sudden presence of a young girl standing in front of his desk.

“A-akamastu-san,” Stuttered the startled detective, as Kaede leaned in inquisitively. “Umm, yes, I’ll be there.”

The ultimate pianist pumped a fist in the air in triumph. She turned around towards the other side of the classroom and shouted to a group of students talking and laughing amongst themselves.

“Saihara-kun said he’ll come tonight!”

“That’s what I like to hear from my sidekick!” responded Kaito, who proceeded to flash a smile and his signature thumbs up. Maki gave a curt nod of approval from next to him.

The rest of the students congregated near Kaito and Maki gave similar nods and words of praise followed by a few cheers of approval.

Shuichi blushed, “Me being there w-won’t make much of a difference on the party. I-it’s really not a big deal.” He felt himself hiding his face in the cap that rested loosely on his head.

Kaede could tell he was growing anxious from being the center of attention. She took his hand in her own and pulled him out of his chair.

She gave him a warm smile as he rose, and he slowly responded with a small, nervous grin.

“We’re all just thrilled that you’ve decided to hang out with us outside of school! There are no expectations of you at this party, we just want to hang out with you, Saihara-kun!”

Shuichi breathed a small sigh of relief as he felt his body relax just a bit. While attending Hope’s Peak High school for the past few months, he had managed to grow close with several of the students. He considered that an incredibly impressive feat, as he was terribly intimidated by his fellow Ultimates. After all, he never thought he deserved to be at the school, as his first case was a mistake that haunted Shuichi constantly. This inferiority complex accompanied with his social anxiety (especially in group settings), made hanging out with his classmates outside of school a fear-inducing scenario.

After a few words of encouragement from Kaito, the group began to go back to their previous conversation. Kaede nudged Shuichi and spoke quietly where only he could hear, “I’m so proud of you for going to this, and hopefully you’ll have a wonderful time! I know you’re nervous, but thank you for facing that fear for our sakes!”

Shuichi cringed at her sweet smile.

I wish my intentions were that pure.

Shuichi was not going to this party for Kaede. He was not going to this party for Kaito or Maki or any of his supportive friends. He was going strictly to investigate. There was a thorn at his side, an unexplainable enigma of a person that perplexed him. It was equally bothersome and intriguing, and when Shuichi caught wind that he would be attending Kaede’s party he had made up his mind to overcome his anxiety for a night and go to learn more.

This party isn’t a social event for me Kaede, I’m sorry. I just need to figure him out. I need to know his motives and what he’s thinking…Ko-

“Saihara-chan  ̴!”

Speak of the devil.

Kokichi Oma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader, also known as a consistent source of Shuichi’s distress, skipped into the classroom, a childlike smile adorning his pale face as he made his way to the detective. The green haired Rantaro Amami followed behind, sighing like an unenthusiastic babysitter.

“Oma-kun…I t-told you, that name’s too girly for me…” Shuichi sighed, knowing that insisting that Kokichi use proper honorifics for the umpteenth was useless.

“Well kun is way too harsh to describe a pretty boy like you!” Kokichi spoke in a sing-song tone, but his face held a mischievous smirk.

Shuichi blushed involuntarily and Kokichi’s eyes lit up.

“Is my beloved Saihara-chan falling for me?” After the words left his mouth he suddenly got closer and his eyes face darkened as he whispered, “What happens if the detective falls for the supreme leader of evil?”

“O-oma-”

“Nyeheehee!” His face was back to his regular devious smile, and he leaned back from the detective, hands resting behind his head, “As much fun as it is to torture you, I actually came because Rantaro told me that you were coming to the piano nerd’s party tonight!”

Rantaro shrugged as Shuichi looked at him. The green haired boy had an unnatural talent for being the first to know anything. He always had the most popular music, clothes, and anything else that was trendy months before it became mainstream.

Maybe Rantaro should have been known as the Ultimate Hipster instead of the Ultimate Adventurer… But wait, he wasn’t even here for that conversation! How did he-

Rantaro, seeing Shuichi’s confused expression, lazily nodded in the direction of a tall boy sitting in the back of the classroom, “Shinguji texted me.”

“Oh okay…” Shuichi responded, not knowing that the two were even friends. He turned back to Kokichi, “Yeah, I’m going to the party.”

Kokichi’s face lit up, “That’s great! I’m so happy I won’t even poison your drink like I was planning! I’ll still poison Miu’s though, since I heard that doing random acts of kindness helps build a stronger community! I mean freeing everyone from a long-term headache is pretty kind, don’t you think?”

“Shut up, Cock-kichi!” screamed the abrasive inventor, running over to the boy at the sound of her name.

The two started flinging vulgar insults at each other and Shuichi decided that that was a good enough distraction to sneak away from the situation. As the detective took step out the classroom door, he glanced back at the two fighting. He locked eyes with Kokichi. The boy grinned that conniving grin as he mouthed:

“See you tonight.”

Shuichi rushed out of the room, irritated with Kokichi’s deliberate flirting just to take him off guard. He had a purely professional interest in Kokichi Oma. As a detective it was his duty to find out if any of his claims about running a massive evil organization and committing crimes were true. He didn’t think so, but he needed to figure out how to tell if Kokichi was lying. He wasn’t obsessing over a classmate.

I have a moral obligation.

He told himself that as he had watched the supreme leader during class the entirety of last week. Shuichi sat behind him, so it was natural for him to look that direction. He had watched how he interacted with different people, physical reactions, and facial features, but hadn’t come to any clear conclusion on the boy having a ‘tell’. He wished he had more opportunities to stare into Kokichi’s large violet eyes, not because he thought they were mesmerizing, but to get a read on the boy of course. It also didn’t help that Shuichi had no baseline. Since Kokichi lied about everything, there were no clear truths or lies to base a pattern from. Kokichi was truly a mystery for Shuichi to solve. A mystery Shuichi needed to solve.

A mystery wrapped in white cotton and soft purple hair, smelling slightly of lavender.

And so it was in his unquestionably professional interest that he attended the party that night.

--------------

He arrived at the venue an hour after the party began, as he had read somewhere that that’s the cool thing to do. Rantaro opened the door, holding a red solo cup in hand and smiling wider than Shuichi had ever seen him before.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” he swayed, definitely tipsy.

Although Kaede was throwing the party, Rantaro had offered his off campus flat (special permission was given to him by the school to stay there instead of the dorms) as a venue for the party. It seems that one of the benefits was that the students could drink freely without worry of getting caught drinking on campus.

“Come on in, make yourself at home! Drinks are over in the kitchen!” Rantaro sauntered off, zigzagging through the many people contained in the modestly sized flat.

So. Many. People.

There were more people than just Shuichi’s classmates. It seemed as the entirety of Hope’s Peak was crammed into the two bedroom apartment. The music blared and a blur of unrecognizable faces practically swallowed the detective. He inhaled sharply.

You can do this.

He nervously stepped into the mass of people, following the flow of steps and desperately looking for any friendly faces. His panicked anxiety causing him to forget his true motive for being here almost immediately. He ended up in the kitchen, the sound of Kaito’s loud voice drew him like a magnet.

“Damn it, how’d you win again?” Kaito yelled, an exasperated Maki lightly holding him back from flipping over the beer pong table.

The fluffy haired blonde at the other end of the table smiled kindly at the shouting astronaut, “I’m sure you’ll beat me next game! I’m worthless, nothing compared to an actual ultimate such as yourself!” the boy’s eyes got wider and more wild and Shuichi took a step back instinctively, “My luck is bound to run out soon, so when it does please use me as a stepping stone to bring hope to every beer pong enthusiast in the universe!!!!!” He cackled.

“Komaeda, you need to chill with giving that hope speech to everyone we meet… you’re really hurting our friend retention rate,” a brunette male mused next to the still manically laughing blonde. He took the boy’s hand and said quieter, “Also… you’re not worthless.”

Little did the brunette know, that Kaito was too competitive to back down from a challenge, even one from a self-deprecating hope-enthusiast.

“Oh it’s on! Maki Roll, you ready to play one more round and beat this punk?” Maki sighed in anguish and glanced up, locking eyes with Shuichi.

“Saihara!” she said uncharacteristically enthusiastically, “You just got here right?”

“Hey guys, yeah I just got here,” Shuichi walked up to the pair.

“Perfect. Kaito, meet your new partner.”

“Eh? But-” Shuichi was instantly silenced by the intense glare Maki shot him. She quickly pushed the two closer and dashed off, avoiding various people and obstacles with reflexes faster than what should be capable of the ultimate child caregiver.

“Haha! I guess Maki Roll got sick of me!” Kaito chuckled, “I guess we have been playing for a while now... but this kid is just so annoyingly lucky… That’ll change soon if I keep playing!”

I need to remind myself to never take Kaito gambling.

It turns out that Kaito and Maki had been playing beer pong since the party began.

No wonder she got out of there. I guess I’m stuck now, but this is way better than standing around not knowing what to do with my body.

Nagito threw the first ball, and it plopped softly into a cup.

“Newbies take the first drink!” Kaito cheered, patting his sidekick on the back. Shuichi sighed and took a drink of the amber liquid. The cheap beer went down his throat with only a mildly repulsive aftertaste.

And, as an added bonus: For the first time since he arrived, Shuichi was able to loosen up a bit.

And he continued to loosen as the boys began their devastating losing streak to Nagito Komaeda and Hajime Hinata.

“Prretty ssure we almosst had em that time,” Kaito slurred as he swayed at the end of the table, obviously drunk from spending two hours losing badly at beer pong and, as a consequence, drinking a lot of beer. Shuichi, having started much later, was not wasted but was still very tipsy.

“Kaito- Kaito I think we gotta be done. You’re too…you’re too drunk.” The detective stumbled over his words, struggling to sound as sober and authoritative as possible. The wasted Kaito agreed eventually, stumbling over to the couch when he saw that Maki was over there. Shuichi smiled and rolled his eyes at his friend’s predictable nature.

He watched him sit and talk with Maki and sighed in relief at being released from mom mode. He wandered around in the flat, no longer anxiety ridden. Shuichi felt confident, and also fuzzy, like everything was a little out of focus.

But mostly confident.

Shuichi suddenly noticed a black and white checkered scarf in the distance, a flash of purple entering what seemed to be Rantaro’s bedroom. Shuichi followed the boy in as much of a straight line as he could, to discover what he was doing. He peeked in to see Kokichi in the dimly lit room sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone, and very much alone. Kokichi quickly looked up and caught the not-so-sneaky-especially-while-drunk Shuichi staring at him in the doorway.

“I-I umm, hi Oma-kun.” Shuichi said, disappointed that he’d been discovered so easily.

“Saihara-chan, hi. Come to escape the noise, too?” His demeanor seemed different than at school as he sat up on the bed. Calm and quiet. But as his Shuichi entered the bedroom, his mask quickly reappeared, “Or did you come to be alone with me?” He crooned.

Shuichi rolled his eyes at the boy’s usual aggressive flirting to make him uncomfortable trick and plopped down on the mattress next to the supreme leader. Kokichi raised an eyebrow in interest.

“You’re a weird guy, Oma.” Shuichi stated, no malice in his voice, “I can’t figure you out.”

Kokichi laughed, “You just figured out that I’m unsolvable? Man, maybe you’re not the ultimate detective after all!”

“I wouldn’t say unsolvable. It’s certainly a pain though,” Shuichi sighed and fell backwards, letting his head hit the sheets.

“Then why do you keep trying?” Kokichi asked, head tilted like a puppy.

Shuichi stared at Kokichi for a second and laughed out loud. Kokichi looked taken off guard for once.

“You know, that’s a really great question,” Shuichi smiled up at the boy looking over him, “I keep avoiding that question myself, so I don’t think I could give you a good answer.”

Kokichi laid back on his back beside the detective, meeting his gaze.

“Ya know, most people are boring. They’re predictable and easy to figure out. I’m glad I don’t bore you, Saihara-chan.”

This time, hearing Kokichi call him Saihara-chan didn’t seem to bother Shuichi. Kokichi said it like it was an endearing nickname.

Kokichi continued, speaking quieter, “And you know… you’re not boring either. To me I mean.”

As weird as it was, it seemed that Kokichi had given the detective an honest compliment. It didn’t seem backhanded or sarcastic, unless Kokichi was a much better liar than Shuichi had previously suspected.

The detective couldn’t help but blush a little.

The two boys laid there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but soon enough Kokichi jumped to his feet, his mischievous smile once again plastered on his face.

“We better hurry back, or we’ll look pretty suspicious! Alone in a bedroom like this! What will your dear Kaito say?”

Shuichi rolled his eyes and stood to his feet, instantly remembering that he had a lot to drink as the room shook slightly, “Yeah let’s go.”

The two boys exited the room to find the flat much emptier than a few minutes prior.

“How long were we in there?” Shuichi wondered out loud.

Shuichi and Kokichi made their way to the kitchen, and after being forced into taking shots with a drunk Kaede and Rantaro, the two told them that after learning that Rantaro’s apartment complex had a volleyball court, a large chunk of drunk students had gone to play a game.

“Well, I say game, but Akane Owari, from the other class, is ready for war,” Rantaro sighed, “She challenged Nidai to a volleyball showdown and things may have gotten a little out of hand when someone suggested it be boys vs girls. Needless to say, Chabashira is out for blood…”

Shuichi winced when he heard that. Tenko was ready for any chance to bring the population of degenerate males down a peg or two.

“Well what’s the plan now Amami-kun?” Kaede asked, a little disappointed that so many people had left her party at once.

“Well there’s still a bunch of people around,” Rantaro noted as he looked at the no longer packed apartment, “So we could always play a group game.”

“Like truth or dare or something?” Kaede asked, eyes lighting up.

“Ugh, truth or dare sucks,” Kokichi groaned, “half the game is so boringgggg. Why don’t we play dare or drink?”

“Dare or drink?” Shuichi lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah! My organization created it to get rid of the worst part of truth or dare: the truth! Of course we used play a slightly different version… ‘Dare or Die’…but we had to switch it up because we were losing too many people!”

The three others sighed at Kokichi’s outrageous lies. At least Shuichi was pretty sure it was a lie. But the group agreed and Kaede gathered a group of people together. Shuichi happily accepted Rantaro’s offer of another shot. He let out a hiccup and a small giggle as he poured a drink for the game, which caused Kokichi to scan his narrowed eyes over the boy.

“Are you good, Saihara-chan?”

Shuichi saw what he surmised to be genuine concern on the boy’s face.

This is my chance to get back at him!

“Aww, are you worried about me…Oma-chan?” Shuichi mimicked Kokichi’s usual sing-song tone, and even copied his use of chan. He stuck his tongue out at the boy when he didn’t receive a reply, and he sauntered off towards the gathering group of teens. He smiled to himself that he had been the one to catch Kokichi off guard for once. He didn’t know that the supreme leader had stayed back to hide his red face from him and the others.

 -----------

Soon, the students that hadn’t gone to play or watch the volleyball war taking place outside were gathered in a circle to play ‘Dare or Drink’.

“I am so thrilled to experience a classic game from your culture! I am ready to absorb as much information as I can about this ‘Dare or Drink’ for the people of Novoselic!” shouted a very excited Sonia Nevermind.

“Umm…Miss Sonia…it’s not actually a classic game, Oma-kun made it u-” Kazuichi Soda attempted to correct the princess but was interrupted by a still very drunk Kaito.

“Soda! I dare you to write out an embarrassingly sexy text and send it to a random contact in your phone.”

And so the group began their game of dare or drink.

 --------------

Shuichi could barely remember why he had ever been nervous to hang out with his classmates outside of school.

With alcohol involved this is easy!

“Saihara,” Rantaro purred, “I dare you to kiss a guy in this room.”

Never mind. This is awful.

“H-huh? W-who?” Shuichi stuttered as he glanced around the room.

Rantaro hummed at the question, then a sly smile overtook his face, “Pick the guy you think is the cutest…”

Shuichi focused his mind a bit, and thought.

Do I find any of my classmates cute? I mean Momota is an attractive guy, but I just think that in a best friend kinda way, plus he’s really not my type. Amami is attractive, but I don’t think he’s anything compared to Oma, I mean his cute face and those eyes… Wait a second…

Do I like Oma?

He looked over at the boy, who was now giving him a sultry stare and licking his lips.

“I choose drink!” Shuichi blurted out, his face now beet red.

“Aww even drunk Saihara-chan is a prude! How predictable!” Kokichi laughed as Shuichi chugged the rest of his mixed drink.

He couldn’t help but be more than a little hurt by the words of his newly realized crush. Even if said crush didn’t realize his new status.

I mean I came to this party for him, after all. Even if he doesn’t know it. That’s pretty rude.

Because it was true. Although Shuichi’s intentions had been ‘purely professional’, he had indeed come to this party to get to know the supreme leader. And now here he was being accosted by the one and only. That pissed drunk Shuichi off.

“Oh yeah? Well let’s see how you do with the same dare,” Shuichi tried to glare as menacingly as possible at the boy sitting across from him, which only was effective at making Kokichi laugh harder, “I dare you to kiss the cutest boy in the room.”

“Is repeating dares even allowed?” muttered a monotone Maki, but Rantaro shushed her quickly.

“My house, my rules. And I say yes,” He smirked.

“Aww but I can’t kiss myself Saihara-chan! So I guess I can’t do your dare! So sad!” Kokichi gave the detective a dramatic sigh and a pout.

Shuichi didn’t back down, “You can’t count yourself, Oma-kun.”

“Psh. As long as you agree that I’m the cutest one,” Kokichi sang as he stood up and sauntered around the room, lingering on each and every guy sitting around the circle. While inspecting them he announced, “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna wimp out like Saihara-chan! I take this dare very seriously!”

Shuichi rolled his eyes as he popped open a beer that was sitting nearby.

“Eenie meenie miney-” Kokichi lilted nonchalantly as he made his way around the circle. He stopped in front of Shuichi and grinned, “Mo.”

“Eh?”

“We gotta get rid of this emo hat!” Kokichi plopped in front of the detective and quickly removed the hat placed on his head, much to the other’s dismay, “Yep I was right! Saihara-chan really is the prettiest boy here!”

“Wh-what?!” Shuichi stammered. He saw Rantaro chuckling in the background while Maki and Kaito watched the two with abject horror.

“Wwwwhat, you didn’t know you were cute? Were you born in that hat or something? Have you never seen your eyes?” As he bombarded the detective with questions he leaned in closer to the detective’s ears and whispered, “If you really don’t want me to kiss you, just say so. I won’t.”

Shuichi thought about it for a moment and then quickly shook his head, “N-no. It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Kokichi smirked at the answer, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He dove onto Shuichi, effectively knocking him onto his back and slammed his lips onto the detective’s. It was a powerful kiss, and at the impact of the ground behind him and Kokichi’s lips on his own, Shuichi let out a gasp. This proved to be the perfect moment for Kokichi to quickly push his tongue into the other’s mouth. Their tongues danced around one another in a strange tangled tango; it was saliva heavy and warm, but decidedly not unpleasant in the slightest.

Shuichi wasn’t sure when he had wrapped his arms around Kokichi, but he had, pulling the smaller closer to him, needing to feel his body heat near his. The smaller had his arms around his neck, his fingers instinctually kneading and caressing the nape. This, along with the feeling of tongues twisting and swirling against one another in his mouth, caused Shuichi to let out an embarrassing moan.

With that Kokichi immediately pulled off of him, untangling his arms and quickly throwing them behind his head. He smirked, “And that, ladies and gentleman: is how it’s done.”

Rantaro, Soda, Sonia, and several others whooped and clapped for the boy. Oma proceeded to bow dramatically as a red-faced and still panting Shuichi finally managed to sit up.

Well that really didn’t go how I intended it to go… but…damn.

Shuichi stared at the supreme leader, now laughing and daring Kaede to do something embarrassing. He wasn’t listening, his eyes just focusing on Kokichi’s lips.

Those lips just…kissed me…

Shuichi quickly inhaled the rest of his beer as a distraction.

 --------------

Rantaro let out a yawn and quietly said, “I think the game is over.”

It really was. The game of Dare and Drink had quickly devolved into a sort of spin the bottle type game, where all the dares now had to do with kissing someone. Shuichi was thankful that he had not been forced to kiss anyone else besides the one time with Kokichi. He didn’t want the flavor of grape chapstick to fade.

As the group dispersed, Shuichi stood and instantly regretted it. The room spun around him and he had trouble balancing. A hangover was inevitable in his near future.

“Ah, Rantaro. Can I crash here?” Shuichi asked wearily, and the green-haired boy smiled cooly in return and said of course.

At least now I don’t have to worry about getting home.

Shuichi thought that while finishing off his umpteenth beer. That’s when he noticed Kokichi alone on the couch. He wandered over, in as straight of a line as he could, and plopped down next to the boy. Kokichi glanced up and grinned, “Just couldn’t get enough of me Saihara-chan?”

“Hmm. Maybe I just felt bad for you,” Shuichi hummed, “You’re sitting all by yourself.”

Kokichi stuck out his tongue and Shuichi couldn’t help but eye it a bit hungrily, “Or maybe you were just desperate for another kiss! Well that’s just too bad, Saihara-chan. You shouldn’t have wimped out on your dare! You could have gotten a second kiss with moi!”

Shuichi frowned, “You seem awfully convinced that I would have chosen you for my dare.”

Kokichi feigned shock, placing his hand over his heart like an overdramatic actor, “Are you saying you wouldn’t pick me?! I’m hurt! Wounded even!” His expression instantly changed to boredom, “But that’s a lie, of course.”

“Which part?”

“Who knows?” Kokichi giggled, “Does it even matter?”

Shuichi decided that this was his chance to catch Oma off guard. He smirked and leaned in, whispering in Kokichi’s ear much like he had done right before he kissed him, “It does matter. And for the record, I would have chosen you, Oma-chan.”

The usually unflappable Kokichi Oma paled and then quickly turned several shades of red. Shuichi took this as his chance and placed a quick peck on Kokichi’s lips, “There. That’s for my dare.”

Kokichi, still red faced but desperately trying to reassemble his mask, chuckled, “You’re really drunk right now. I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this.”

Shuichi chuckled back, and dragged his finger lightly along Kokichi’s jawline, “I’m not drunk at all. You’re just blurry.”

“You really let loose tonight, Saihara-chan,” Kokichi mused as the two got closer and closer, as if being pulled together by some magnetic force.

As they neared Shuichi pulled Kokichi into another passionate kiss, not really caring if anyone else saw. Kokichi quickly broke it and looked at Shuichi, eyes wide.

“How are you planning on getting home tonight?” There was no ill-intent in the words, but rather just genuine concern, an emotion very rarely seen from Kokichi.

“Amami-kun is letting me stay the night.”

Kokichi laughed out loud at that, then muttered, “That meddling bastard.” Shuichi cocked an eyebrow and Kokichi sighed and continued, “Rantaro. There’s only two beds. One for him and one for me. Or at least that’s what he told me yesterday. How convenient that he’s suddenly ‘selflessly’ offered for you to stay!”

Shuichi shook his head, “I don’t know about that, I mean I asked… Also I can always sleep on the couch-”

Kokichi scoffed at the very idea, “No way. No way is Saihara-chan lowering himself to sleep on some dirty old couch. Eww. Nope, it’s decided!” Kokichi looped his arm through Shuichi’s own and dragged the wobbly boy to the guest bedroom, “You’re staying with me tonight!”

“I suppose I can live with that.”

[joycecarolnotes]

Ask meme! Time for director's commentary on the fic you are most proud of and why

Oh what a good question! I spent a while trying to come up with a real answer to this but I’m honestly not sure which I’m proudest of. It’s a little hard for me to feel proud of stuff. I’ll go with my latest fic, The Hourglass Project, because I’m proud of having finished it.

The plot of this fic is based on the Doctor Who episode “The Girl Who Waited.” I’m not a huge Doctor Who fan really, and stopped watching the show years ago, but I did love the era of Matt Smith’s Doctor and Amy and Rory. I felt like the premise of the episode (in which one character gets stuck in an alternate timestream for decades, while the other rushes to save them) was pretty much ideal for the good ship Jared/Richard. And I wanted to explore what could drive someone as faithful and devoted as Jared to a point of disillusionment, anger, and bitterness.

I started writing this fic in July of 2016, and since then it languished in my godforsaken WIP folder while I agonized over how to write something sci-fi-ish. I found that if I tried to mimic the episode too closely, I felt terribly bored, but that if I tried to deviate too much from it, I felt lost and directionless. I worried that people would be snobby about how I wrote time travel, and that I’d make myself look foolish. I tried to tell myself that what mattered was that it make sense emotionally and no one would care how much scientific sense it made (I’m still telling myself this). I couldn’t think of a symbolic way to get them back to the original timeline. I became frustrated to the point of tears.

Then, I guess IT 2 stirred up all my feelings about memories and reunions and true love (??) because I woke up the morning after seeing it and said to myself, “jcn, today you are going to finish the girl who waited au” and I sat down and wrote and rewrote for something like nine hours until it was done.

Some of the things I love in this story are: Richard’s smugness at his own genius, how he thinks Jared looks like a sexy professor, survival being the thing Jared’s best at, and how he realizes he’s lived in the alternate dimension so long it’s the closest thing he’s had to a home. I like that Monica got to be sort of a stand-in for the Doctor, helping Richard’s Rory crack the case. I also really like that the episode itself is a bit of a role reversal and then I doubled down on that (because in general, Jared is much more the Rory analogue to Richard’s Amy, I think!).

Anyway I’m proud of sticking with this fic even though at times I thought it would never be finished. The other stories hanging out in my WIP folder don’t look as intimidating, now.

[haveyouseenmymind]

Tales of a Cup Part 2

I’m kinda having a bad case of writer’s block at the moment, so I thought I’d stop working on my current WIP, to get back to something older. 

As you can see, it worked for me, and I’m quite happy about it, since part one got some notes over the last few weeks and I totally got motivated to write more.

Also: Is this proof that I’m able to write on my series? Cause I got a few that still need to be finished, and boy do I feel bad about that. 

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Pairing: Scotty x Reader

Warnings: Ghost story with a creepy doll, spiders and insects 

Words: 1656

People are curious about Scotty’s tea cup. Christine Chapel is the second to ask.

part 1

Another curious soul was Christine Chapel, the head nurse of the Enterprise and the one woman who was, not so secretly, running medbay. Had she known how the Scot would react to that simple question, she surely wouldn’t have asked though.

+++

It was early in the morning, well, at least as far as one could say in space. Your shift would start in half an hour, and you were enjoying breakfast at the mess hall, a steaming cup of tea in front of you, while you were chatting with Christine, who was telling you about the newest gossip.

You were relieved when your boyfriend, whom you hadn’t seen since dinner the evening before, entered the mess hall. He had spent last night in engineering, taking care of some emergency repairs, and so it was no wonder how exhausted he looked. You were glad that you had made a whole can of tea, since it surely would help to make him feel better after that long night.

When he spotted you, he walked right over to the two of you, offered Christine a tired smile before he leaned down to give you a short kiss. He sat down next to you, and put his own tea cup, that he indeed had brought with him in expectation to enjoy some of your tea, on the table, before he reached for the can next to you, and poured himself a cup.

With a relieved sigh he took his first sip, and you could watch how he gradually became more relaxed, enjoying the hot beverage and his break from work. Christine eyed him with a hint of professional concern, before her gaze wandered to the cup in his hand.

“That’s a really cute teacup, Mr. Scott.”

Your boyfriend’s answer was a simple smile, but there was also that mischievous gleam returning to his eyes. Knowing what that meant and how it would completely turn over the conversation, you tried to hide a laugh that you couldn’t hold back behind a cough, as to not ruin whatever hilarious story would follow now.

Scotty put his cup down, and suddenly he was beaming the most innocent smile at Christine before he started with his little act.

“Oh thanks, Chapel. It certainly is, even though it came into my possession in a quite mysterious way.”

He waited a minute, to see if the nurse had taken the bait, and indeed, she seemed to be curious, though you could see that she also was kinda wary about the whole thing.

“Well, how did you get this teacup?”

Not laughing was really hard at this point, but you tried your best to hold yourself back to see what your boyfriend would come up with. To be honest, you had your doubts that he would be able to fool Christine as easily as he had done with the captain before, but that made everything even more hilarious, though it would surely disappoint your boyfriend.

“Well Christine, you see, there was that one time I was on shore leave,  just before that whole unfortunate debacle with Archer’s dog. I was in the mood for a bit of hiking, and so I thought I’d try my luck and go for a nice stroll through the woods.”

The blonde woman looked at the engineer skeptically, and you could see that she wasn’t that impressed with the story so far. But before she could interrupt, Scotty kept spinning his fantastic tale.

“It was a really nice day, but after a while I got, as I have to admit to my own shame, a bit lost. And so I was stumbling through the forest, wondering where I was and where to go, when I found this wide open clearing, that seemed to just have appeared out of thin air.”

He made a distinct break to take another sip of his tea, but he was in no hurry to get back to the story, enjoying Christine’s obvious impatience for him to start talking again.

“So what happened next?”

Scotty, who was clearly satisfied at the nurse’s interest in his story, set his cup, to Christine’s annoyance, back down on the table very slowly, and let out a soft sigh before he returned to telling his story.

“Well, I know this sounds unbelievable, but right there, in the middle of nowhere was this small wooden table, with three just as small chairs around it. Two were standing, while one was laying on the ground backwards, as if someone had just stood up and left the place very hastily. Right across of it, on the other side of the table, sat a doll with long blonde hair and a very dirty black dress.”

You shivered at the image, impressed with the setting Scotty had come up this fast. He could have fooled you, but thankfully you knew your boyfriend good enough to know when he was pulling someone’s leg. However, the story so far turned out to be quite creepy, and he wasn’t done with it yet.

“Curious as I am, I stepped closer to the whole scene, and saw that it had closed its eyes, which kinda threw me off, though I didn’t know why at that moment. Oh, and not to forget the tiny little spiders crawling all over it and through it’s hair. That really was a nasty sight. But still, I tried to examine the setup a bit closer, and realized that it looked like everything had been there for years, as the most of the table’s wood was rotten and some insects had made their home in it. The next thing I noticed, was the set of porcelain tea cups on the table, though the cup of the one across the doll was missing, and just the saucer was left.”

Scotty stopped talking for a moment, and you were anxious to hear what would happen next. One glance at Christine didn’t tell you anything about what she was thinking, as her face gave nothing of her thoughts or emotions away. But Scotty still wasn’t done, and maybe he could catch her with the rest of his tale.

“So I looked closer at the doll’s cup, and what can I tell you, it was filled with a completely black liquid. That’s at least what I thought, cause when I tried emptying the cup, it flowed out of it very slowly, like some kind of slabby goo.”

Finally, Christine said something, sheer disbelief in her voice as she interrupted the engineer.

“Why the hell would you empty that tea cup? Or even touch it at all?”

Scotty just shrugged, but you could see a small smile on his face. He was clearly happy that he finally had gotten Christine fully interested in his story.

“You said so yourself, it is a really nice teacup, and leaving it there would have been such a waste. However, after a while I realized that it was slowly growing dark, so it would have been best to leave and try finding my way back out. I stepped back, packed cup and saucer into my jacket’s pocket, and got ready to leave. But not before turning around one last time to look at the doll, and let's be honest, I got the shock of my life. I swear honest to goodness, when I looked at that doll, it’s eyes were wide open, staring at me accusingly. After that, I left as fast as I could and never went back there. But the cup is still in my possession, as you can see.”

After he had finished talking, Scotty stared expectantly at Christine Chapel, hoping that he would get a similar reaction like he got from the captain the time he had told him another tale. But the woman just looked at him, blinked once, twice, before she raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Scott, that was just… ridiculous. I think you better take today off, it seems to me like you’ve overworked last night. Now excuse me, I need to head to medbay and prepare for my shift. Y/N, we’ll see each other later.”

And with that Christine stood up and left, greeting the captain and doctor McCoy as they entered the hall.

Your own gaze swept over to your boyfriend, who was completely surprised, as if he had not quite understood what just had happened. He then looked at you with a pout on his face, clearly unhappy about the situation.

“What just happened? Was the story not good enough?”

You sighed with sympathy and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, trying to console the poor man.

“No, I think it was brilliant, and I really loved it. But I don’t think Christine’s the right victim for your stories, you know how she is. Nobody who can intimidate doctor McCoy would get scared by a ghost story, no matter how good it is.”

“You’re probably right, Y/N. Nothing can frighten nurse Chapel. But honestly, I think that woman spends too much time with Leonard. Did you see her eyebrow going up like that? Seriously, that was kinda creepy.”

You laughed at that, and noticed the captain and the CMO coming closer to your table, clearly wanting to join you with their own breakfast. But right in the middle of walking, Kirk stopped suddenly, his eyes growing wide when they fell on the porcelain teacup in front of Scotty. He looked up at the engineer, who smiled at him innocently and waved at his friend.

This made the blond turn to the right abruptly, heading for another table with a hurried stride. His best friend, who had nearly run into him, stared at you in confusion, before he grumbled and followed Kirk.

The captain’s obvious unease with that innocent little teacup made you laugh, and it seemed like it had cheered up Scotty, who just smiled smugly and took another sip of his tea.

tags (Strikeouts I can’t tag): @thevalesofanduin @medicatemedrmccoy @toosouthernforspace @reading-in-moonlight @feelmyroarrrr @0dannyphantom0 @eyeofdionysus @bsotstory @neon-green-bra @loststarlight @imoutofmyvulcanmind @fireboltrose7559 @ree923 @str8-jack-it @flaminglupine

Star Trek: @theartofeheheh

Tales of a Cup: @kawaiiusagichansan @texasblues

If anybody else wants to be added to or removed from my tag list, or has special wishes for being tagged, just let me know. :)

[semiwriting]

Excerpt from a new wip about pirates I may or may not continue!

The woman standing in front of me was one of the only ways I could get a job. After all, she was a pirate. And people didn’t normally like hiring children, or like children at all. I didn’t really consider myself a child, except maybe when I was an actual child. But people saw me as one anyway. I couldn’t help I was small and thin for my age; part of that was from growing up in poverty, but most people in this city did. Either way, I needed money. And if I had to enter a life of crime and deceit to do it, then so be it.

“What’s your name, kid?” She asked. Her hands were on her hips and she looked down at me, but so much so that she was really looking down at me. I’m pretty sure it was just an intimidation tactic, but it was working. She looked real rough on the outside, and was probably also real rough on the inside.

“Elian.”

“How old are you, Elian?”

“Fourteen.”

She smirked a bit. For what, I wasn’t sure. She turned in her spot, letting her hands fall casually at her sides. “The name’s Belle.” She started walking off the dock and onto the ship via the little walkway-board-thing off the side. I followed her, which is what I believed was the right thing to do right now. “You know how to work a ship?”

“Not really.”

“You’ll learn.” She continued to walk, earning a couple nods by various men on her way below deck. She was the only one wearing that type of hat that seems pretty exclusive to pirates, so I assumed she was the captain of this ship.

“I’m the toughest bitch on this ship,” she continued. “I run it, and everyone knows now not to cross me. They all call me captain or ma'am, and you will too. You’ll be working the ship under my orders, got it?”

“Yes,” I answered dutifully. She paused a moment, looking back at me with a sharp eye that put a jolt through my nerves. “Yes, ma'am,” I corrected myself. She smirked again and faced back in front of her.

“These are my quarters,” she gestured to the open door of a room. There weren’t many rooms in this hallway, but this was the closest one to where we were. It was also the only one with a little plaque on the door. It said “Captain’s Quarters” if Belle wasn’t clear enough. The room itself was very minimalistic. There was a short bed in the corner, a hammock beside it, a dresser made of dark, shining wood, and a chest by the end of the bed with gold trim that could hold treasure inside if I dared to dream. But I would never get the chance to find out in my lifetime.

“You’ll be staying down the hall.” Both of us faced the short span of wooden floor. “All the men stay in those two rooms. You can go to the one on the right. The left is mainly full. Just careful when choosing where to sleep. The men are pretty territorial about where they sleep.”

I nodded in response. She showed me around the rest of the ship, or at least, the rest that she wanted me to know about.

Since we were stopped back at this city’s port, most of the men went out to eat, but were to come back soon. According to Belle, she doesn’t let them stay out long enough to drink heavily, but they're more than welcome to bring their alcohol on board and drink it here. Apparently, she just doesn’t want to have to dive after another guy who stumbled his way off the dock and into the water. Unless, of course, we stayed at port for more than a day or two and some of the men wanted to stay the night on land. Usually with… women. Can’t expect much from these men.

“Hey! Listen up!” Belle stood next to me with a heavy and domineering hand on my shoulder. Most, if not all, of the crewmen stood on the deck in front of us. “This is Elian. He’ll be joining us out on sea. I expect you all to show him the ropes when you have the time. He’s got pretty shit knowledge at sailing, so work your magic and play nice.”

I smiled an awkward hello at all the men. The youngest besides me was probably a boy who looked like he could lift three of me over his shoulder with ease. He was maybe eighteen. Everyone dispersed, and I decided to hang out on deck for now, looking out at the sea and whatnot. Think, maybe. I wasn’t really sure what pirates did in their free time.

I leaned against the edge, hearing the soft sloshing of the water underneath the my feet. It didn’t bother me that Belle thought I was a boy. In fact, it was probably better that way. She of all people probably knew how hard it could be as a girl out on your own. Especially in these parts. And especially out at sea. I’ll be surrounded by drunk, smelly, sexist men for about a hundred percent of my time. I hoped the money was good.

“Hey, kid.” I spotted a man behind my back. He was relatively lean, had a nice face, didn’t seem too menacing or very drunk. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Eh, weird age,” he leaned against the edge next to me, looking out at the dark horizon like I had been.

“How so?”

“Trying to figure yourself out. Want to see the world around you but don’t really have the opportunity. Lucky you get to, though.” He smiled at me. I smiled back, curious of his intentions. “You can call me Tully. Captain wants me to teach you some things around here, though I hear you’ll start off scrubbing the deck or washing clothes.”

“Heard so too. But Belle said that when I get to work I’ll be doing knots. She says I have small hands.”

“Sounds about right. But you want to be careful about calling her Belle, especially to her face. She thinks it disrespectful.”

We got quiet for a bit, just staring at the sea and the sky and where they came to meet. Both were dark, but the moon gave a paler image to the sky. And while the moon’s light did shine off the sea, it seemed as dark and smooth as that type of blue could go. It almost shimmered. I had the sudden urge to wash the sea water over my skin. It must be cold, though.

I glanced to the side at Tully. He was pale, like Belle and I and most of the men on this ship, actually. His hair looked permanently rustled, but had a rich brown color that didn’t seem appropriate for a pirate.

“If anyone else finds you staring at them like that, you’ll probably get hit.” His eyes matched mine, making me jump slightly. I tore my eyes away from both him and the open ocean. I felt my face get a little warm.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. He chuckled and gave me a pat on the back. Both of us retreated to that one room Belle said I should sleep in. The middle of the room was littered with hammocks of different colors and sizes, while the walls were printed with variously-clean-looking beds. Several men were already rocking away, asleep, in the hammocks. One or two had a bottle of alcohol on their chests. My eyes dodged the slightly disheveled beds and hammocks with a hat or a shirt hanging off of it. Many places were open since the men who were out hadn't come back yet, but my mind traveled back to the words Belle told me about their possessiveness. I also remember her saying newbies tend to end up sleeping on the floor. Not by choice, of course.

Some laughing men came up from behind me and knocked me on the back on their way into the room.

“Kid’s got no place to sleep, huh?” One man with a slightly rotund stomach leaned into an empty hammock.

“Can always sleep with Carrow,” chuckled the other who was with him, a bottle carrying a strong smell in his hand.

“Oh, yeah, like he needs his ass hurt like that. Kid’s just fourteen,” someone in a hammock rolled over on their stomach to contribute to the conversation.

“I’m good with just sleeping on the floor, for now,” I told them, trying to ignore the sex comment. My smile wobbled. I wiped the nervous sweat off my palms and onto my pants.

“Hey, just let us know if Carrow causes you any problems, okay?” The guy with the bottle tapped my arm with it, the liquid swishing inside.

“Man, I’m telling you, I don’t think he’s into kids,” the hammock-lying dude said, trying to get some leverage on it to look out, but it was a hammock.

I sat on the floor between two beds. Tully threw me a blanket. Slowly but surely, more men began trickling into the room and throwing themselves on hammocks or ducking under covers. Dark and quiet laid over the room of sleeping and snoring men. Someone farted loudly. There was a bit of grumbling from protesting bodies. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable. Or warm. I’ve slept on floors before so I at least knew what to expect.

I rubbed my lower back, feeling sore. Dull, pale morning sunlight filtered through one of the portholes into the room. I noticed I was one of the first awake. One of the men from last night--the fatter one--stretched out with a groan and scratched his crotch. Thankfully it was over his pants because he gave me a hard pat on the back with the same hand as we exited the room.

“First day on the job, eh? What’s your name again, kid?”

“Elian. What’s yours?”

“They call me Sloan.”

“Why do they call you that?”

“Why do you think?”

I didn’t really have an answer for that. Several men already happened to be on deck, some tightening ropes to sails, others running around and making sure things were in tip-top shape.

“Looks like we’re sailing out today,” Sloan mentioned. I observed all the men working hard to make the ship ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

“There’s probably something that needs cleaning,” he grinned. My shoulders slumped. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a couple men hurriedly board the ship from staying out on land for the night.

[misanthropicmegara]

Excerpt from WIP

Once I had rejoined the others in the field, I felt much like a spy. I strode out among the other workers, not bothering to blend in because that was impossible. I was taller than all but a select few of the other men, and the way the sun brought out the red in my hair made me the most easily recognizable from a distance. I didn’t bother hiding my grin as I got back to work, and even began to sing for the first time in months. I wondered what the rest of the band would think of me singing one of our songs in a vineyard in the boot heel of Italy. Maybe I’d tell them about it later, if I remembered. If the others were bothered by the somewhat juvenile lines from the greatest hits of Shamrock Sledge, I didn’t notice. When I’d written the lyrics, I hadn’t even comprehended what their true meaning could be. I’d never been drunk on such a cocktail of admiration and affection for one person before, not to mention how I couldn’t keep my eyes off Rosanna. Even when she was disheveled and feeling like garbage, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. “We get it, you’re a young cocoş, could you spare us your gloating about it?” Luca called from another row. I’d heard enough Romanian to know he was talking about a rooster, and grinned over the heads of everyone between us to show Luca he had no power to shame me. “I talked to the boss! She’s feeling poorly and has asked me to deliver her food and pick up her medicines! Guess who’s getting paid overtime?” I did a little dance as if that were all I had to look forward to, but if I were asked, I couldn’t lie and pretend I wasn’t more thrilled to spend a night far apart from Rosanna but under the same roof than I was to go back to the hotel room with Luca. It occurred to me then that Luca would require an explanation for my whereabouts or he’d make the obvious assumptions. The way he was looking across the vines at me indicated he already was. Rosanna would not appreciate that. I’d catch him when I went back out, I told myself, or leave a note in the hotel. Rosanna had no idea how little luggage I had, considering I liked to stay mobile at all times. I’d end up bringing everything and it would take five minutes tops to pack. Hopefully she’d let me do my laundry in something I wouldn’t have to watch the whole time to make sure my laundry wouldn’t get mixed in with just anyone’s clothes. How could we mistake each other’s clothes for our own, anyway? The time that passed had no effect on me, other than how many songs I could fit in before the call came in. I was so clumsy with excitement I nearly dropped my phone, only to find I had to strain my ears to ensure I could actually hear Rosanna’s soft voice. “Liam? This is you, yes? Your first stop will be the gate to wait for the taxi. They didn’t want to drive up around the back when you could just meet them there. You’ll be driven in the back way when you return.” “Eh? Oh, all right! Are you sending me the directions?” I asked as I adjusted to her volume. “Yes, as soon as you hang up. Now don’t be obvious, you gigantic puppy, or I’ll call it all off.” I straightened up at once with that thought in mind. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you down!” I said loudly enough for most people to hear me without it being obvious I wanted them to. I didn’t hang up the phone as I waved at all of them and made my way toward the gate to meet the taxi. Down by the gate, as I had every day since my arrival, I admired the gatehouse. It looked like a feature of a castle, something that someone would drop attacks on invaders from. I couldn’t peek through any of the windows, since the blinds and curtains were all drawn, but I could guess that the furniture was probably the same as the library had been. If only someone would move in and make its interior seem worthy of its exterior. The taxi and Rosanna’s instructions arrived together, so I read them from the front seat of the taxi. The food was going to be ready in twenty minutes, she’d ordered some freshly made and enough for the leftovers to last her a couple days. She also mentioned that she knew I wasn’t allergic to anything from my file, so she had gone ahead and chosen her favorites without worrying about whether we could safely share. It wasn’t the most conventional date I’d ever gone on, but I couldn’t say I’d ever been more enthusiastic about one. It sure beat letting Grant drive us to Wendy’s while he sat a couple tables away and watched our every move. Sometimes he could be my best friend, but at others, he really knew how to turn up the volume on that big brother boss mode. I caught a few sidelong glances from the taxi driver, and turned full on to look right back at him. “What’s going on?” I asked, “got something on your mind?” “I know there’s a fine lady that lives in that house. You’re her errand boy?’’ “Sort of,” I acknowledged, relaxing since he probably wasn’t about to claim I had no soul. “Do you know what happened in there? I wouldn’t want to go anywhere nearer than the gate, let alone spend all day out there. They had to let everyone go after the attack, since there was only the girl to run the place and she had to spend so much time being watched over at the hospital.” “Was she badly hurt?” I asked, the memory of how Rosanna could struggle with her breathing creeping up on me. She didn’t act at all as if she had asthma, it was something else… “Who would know? She was able to hide it from the press, somehow. She won’t discuss it when I pick her up, and trust me I do nearly every time she can’t drive herself somewhere. It’s a bit of a rumor in the town what might have happened. Things like that haven’t happened before or since, and we’re all seized with the worst curiosity. Have you seen the lady in person? Did you notice anything that might be a hint what happened?” I thought about the way her side seemed to bother her, and wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms and let the pain heal on its own. There was no way I would let word about her weakness reach hungry ears, especially as someone could easily use it against her should they mean to. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that,” I said, “but it’s not right to gossip about someone, especially not someone who’s been through something like what she’s gone through. You’ve got to have more respect for people who’ve survived those kinds of things.” The taxi driver had by now decided I wasn’t any fun, and waved his hand to silence me. “You’re just going to make this ride last for ages, aren’t you? Now how about we talk about you? It’s not gossip if it’s to your face.” “Oh, yes, that’s true enough. Well go on, what do you have in mind to ask?” “Are you one of the laborers or a personal assistant? You seem like a mixture of both. Why does the lady need someone to do a job like that so suddenly?” “Ah, that’s her own choice,” I said, puffing out my chest a little bit as if that might intimidate the man driving the car I was strapped into. “I only know that she wants the help tonight, I don’t think it’s a permanent situation. But whether it is or not is her own business.” “Ugh, fine. And what are you doing here, aren’t there enough jobs in America?” “There are, but I wanted to see the world. I didn’t want to do it backpacking without a goal in mind. I want to create and build and leave a mark where I go, learning as I do. I’m on a grand mission to teach myself what works in a vineyard so I can go back and tend my own.” That was my rehearsed response, and I’d gotten great at saying it. But it was far from the whole truth, and only my family would have as clue about that. There were things I could bear recreating, scenarios it didn’t pain and frighten me to relive, but to walk in the same old places, that I couldn’t yet bear to face. I’d run so far away to become someone who wasn’t that guy, the one it happened to. I wasn’t about to tell a random Italian stranger about it. Yet, I knew for a certainty that I would tell Rosanna whatever she wanted to know, and wasn’t she more or less a stranger to me? I brooded over this in silence until we pulled into one of the spaces in front of my hotel. I hurried in, eager to be done with the place. A mad little moth in my head chomped away at my brain, making me daft enough to think I’d never have to come back, and I’d be able to sleep on Rosanna’s couch until… well, until I left, I guessed, but the brain moth didn’t care so much that far into the future. I pulled the family photo off my bedside table first, unwilling to sleep apart from it, as well as my actual family. I made sure to get every bit of technology, and finally roll the suitcase to the door. I wrote on the hotel stationary, “Luca, I’m staying overnight at the vineyard in case our boss needs something. She’s sick and tired of nurses. Enjoy having the room to yourself! And please don’t tell the others, nothing is going on.” That last line was a ridiculous lie, at least as far as I was concerned, but if someone asked Rosanna, she would have said the same thing and meant it. On the way out of the hotel, I passed the usual nightly revelry at the bar. I waved at the others as I passed, and got a refresher course in the more ribald portions of my English-Romanian phrasebook. “Yeah, yeah, you laugh now, but I’m making sure our boss doesn’t die, so when you get your next paycheck you be grateful!” By the time I made it to the door, they were calling me Nurse Cockerel, which wasn’t entirely wrong. The taxi driver next took me to a restaurant packed with customers, all of them wearing what looked like expensive clothes. It occurred to me that if I had the money, this would be the perfect date spot, and I’d still probably never get a reservation. Was this Rosanna’s idea of comfort food? The taxi went around the back, where an old woman was waiting with two large bags of food marked, “Conte.” The woman had a sweet face, but there was a suspicious squint in her eyes that I didn’t think was her usual expression when I climbed out to pick up the food. “You’re the boy I was told about,” she said, her accent thick but still not making it difficult to understand her. “What are you after with Rosanna?” she folded her arms as she glared up at me. “You know her?” I glanced at the bags of food, noticing how something smelled an awful lot like shepherd’s pie. How could that be? It definitely wasn’t an Irish restaurant… “Of course, I know her. I used to work for her family,” the old woman said. “Now, answer my question. What are you doing inviting yourself to stay with her tonight?” “She’s sick,” I said, giving her my prize-winning smile,“she has trouble walking, and she seems like that doesn’t bother her so much. Someone has to watch over her but she won’t let a nurse do it. I volunteered.” “You better not hurt her,” the woman said, “I’ll tell her what she needs to hear if you do. She’s been through enough without you breaking her heart. If you’re planning to leave her n your dust, I’ll personally advise her to get rid of you before you can.” “It’s wonderful that she has someone looking out for her,” I said truthfully, placing a hand over my heart. “I’d never hurt her intentionally, and if I accidentally did, I’d do everything possible to make it right. Ever since I’ve met her, I’ve had this belief that I was sent here to help her. Not just with the field, but… she can’t be alone, anymore. It has to stop somewhere… I understand that you can’t be there anymore, she was probably away and you needed work… Now  that she’s back in that house, it’s dangerous for her to be alone. She needs someone who can afford to check in on her, and for now that person is me. Do you trust me?” Some of the suspicion had drained from the woman’s eyes as she peered at me, but even when she relaxed more she asked, “How long have you known her to have such strong feelings about her? Are you one who flits about feeling strongly then departing?” “Never,” I said firmly. “Yes, it’s been a short time, but I’ve learned so much… Nobody should go through what she’s struggling with alone, and I’m not going to be the person who knows about her alone and in pain without trying to help. She needs to be shown that there’s more to the world than what she’s seen.” “And you think you can do it,” the old woman shook her head. “I was the cook who kept her fed when she was locked away and missed meals. I taught her to make food and pour all the love she couldn’t have for her parents into it. And I’ve never succeeded in this. What makes you different?” I picked up the bag slowly, making no sudden movements. “When something like this happened to me, I had an entire family to comfort me, to be there when I needed them. She has nobody except me. I will not fail her.”