#woop. I already typed this man. Sigh

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb VII

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 3300 words (woops sorry). Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect flirting, heartstrings tugggg, kind, beautiful, caring barista Caleb and smoool romcom angst, but I promise it’s worth it (like biiig promise!). Caleb x law student special heeeh.

Parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01 @ariakamil

Fruits of Delusion | pt. 7

You’re not supposed to be here.

No apron. No espresso machine. Just Caleb in a soft tee, one hand casually adjusting a canvas tote on his shoulder like he’s in a lifestyle ad and not casually wrecking your emotional recovery.

Your heart stops.

Then slams back into motion.

And you spin on your heel.

Walk fast. Now. Escape. Evacuate.

But it’s already too late.

You catch the tilt of his head. The way his gaze shifts—searches—and then lands directly on you.

And the worst part?

He smiles.

Like this is normal. Like he’s happy to see you. Like you didn’t just spend twenty minutes pretending to buy basil while trying not to pass out behind a kale stand.

Your heart’s already halfway to a closing argument when—

“Hey,” he calls, voice warm and devastatingly casual. “Golden Girl.”

Your spine straightens like you’re bracing for impact.

You turn, slowly.

He’s already walking toward you, sunlit, smug, and alarmingly real.

“Didn’t think law students came out in daylight.”

Your escape plan?

Denied.

You make a face. “Briefly. A little sun is medically advisable, and I needed overpriced strawberries and a charisma challenge, apparently.”

He laughs—and for a second, it feels normal. Stupidly, unfairly normal. Then he tilts his head, grinning. “Nice running into you without that slick guy tailing you. Kind of refreshing.”

You smile, sweet but sharp. “What, you only approve of my public appearances when I’m unaccompanied?”

There’s a glint in his eyes as he lifts a brow. “I’m just saying, the view’s better.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach does that thing again.

He glances sideways. “You sticking around for a bit?”

You nod, casual. “Yeah. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Caleb tosses the bag of apples from one hand to the other, grin low and easy. “Mind if I tag along? Unless you’re… meeting someone else here.”

Shoulders lift in a casual shrug, like your heart isn’t pounding out confessions. “I’m… alone. But you can tag along if you promise not to judge my irrational strawberry purchases.”

He gives you a mock-serious nod. “Never. Fruit law is outside my jurisdiction.”

And then you fall into step beside him without even thinking about it. The crowd buzzes around you—children with juice boxes, someone selling soap that smells like your grandma’s bathroom—and Caleb, warm and very much here, carefully sliding the bag of apples into his canvas tote as you walk.

A quick glance his way. “So, this your idea of a wild Saturday? Buying fruit and intimidating civilians with your forearms?”

He snorts. “I’m a man of mystery and nutrition.”

You arch a brow. “You say that like you didn’t buy six apples and a single jar of fancy mustard.”

“Maybe I’m a minimalist.”

“Maybe you’re a serial killer.”

He grins, unbothered. “I could say the same about you. Didn’t peg you for a farmers market type.”

“I’m expanding my public image,” you say. “It’s important for future jury manipulation.”

He makes a soft, amused sound. “Hm. Strategic. I respect that.”

You both pause near a booth selling organic candles with names like Morning Sigh and Birchwood Intimacy. Caleb picks one up, sniffs it, and immediately grimaces.

“That smells like someone’s therapist’s office.”

You lean in. “That smells like heartbreak in a beige apartment.”

He laughs—full-bodied and bright, the kind that starts in his chest and spills into the space between you. And for a second, it’s easy.

Then you raise an eyebrow. “Also, bold of you to have such a specific take. Personal experience, or…?”

A lopsided smile flashes as the candle clinks back onto the table. “Let’s just say I’ve spent enough time around grey trauma furniture to recognize the scent.”

You squint. “Enough time because you’re actually a secret psych patient and this”—you wave a hand at him, the apples, the smugness—“is just your well-funded rehabilitation program?”

He just grins. Doesn’t answer.

Which is very much an answer.

You click your tongue. “Mysterious.”

He shrugs, still smiling. “Or unstable.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Violet eyes meet yours—still playful, but maybe a little too knowing. “No. They’re really not.”

Trauma-scented décor?

Your joke was, obviously, a joke. But still—your brain runs the analysis anyway.

Was that just a throwaway comment? Or a casual nod to whatever psychological minefield he had to dance through in aviation school? Or… something else?

You’re this close to launching into Exhibit G of your ongoing Caleb casefile when—

His phone buzzes.

He glances down, and just like that—the mood shifts. Shoulders stiffen. Eyes flick past you.

“Hey, I should—uh. I’ve gotta run,” he says, already stepping back.

You blink. “Oh.”

Hesitation hangs for half a second before warm fingers find your arm, light but intentional.

“It was really nice talking to you,” he says, a little softer now. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod, trying to play it cool.

But his touch lingers longer than it should.

And then he’s gone.

You stand there for half a second, unmoving.

Then you start walking.

You’re not following. You’re investigating. Which is absolutely different. Or it would be, if you weren’t weaving through shoppers like a trained bloodhound with half a law degree.

You could’ve been a P.I.

You’d have crushed it.

This is fieldwork.

Character research.

This is what you came for.

You spot him across the street.

And then you spot her. The apple girl. It must be.

She’s already walking toward him—dressed like the human embodiment of a picnic daydream. Sundress. Sunglasses pushed up into her hair. That kind of easy beauty that doesn’t even try to compete—it just wins by existing.

Caleb lights up. Literally.

He grins—wide, unguarded, the kind of smile you’ve never seen at full strength.

Then he hugs her. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like they do this all the time.

You stop walking.

Your throat goes tight. Like you just swallowed a whole apple core. You look away before they kiss. You don’t know if they do. You don’t want to know.

You turn around. Walk fast. Faster.

You tell yourself you were just on a stroll. That you were curious. That your brain is a courtroom prep, and you were just gathering evidence.

But right now?

Right now, you’re the damn defendant.

And it hurts like hell.

So you run home. Toss your keys on the counter. Gather your books, your charger, your half-dead highlighters.

You don’t stop. You don’t think.

You make it to the study hall.

Sit your ass down like your future depends on it.

Because it does.

Your hands shake as you text the newbie:

you: update: apple girl exists. status: catastrophic

No reply.

You stare at the screen a little too long.

Then flip open your laptop, crack open a textbook, and throw yourself into 200 pages of law history like it’ll fix something.

You read. And read.

And don’t remember a goddamn word.

Just that necklace.

Just the way he looked at her.

The way he hugged her.

And the echo of your own voice, cruel and smug and right—

I’m not going to tank my grades over a guy who’s literally training to fly away.

… I told you so.

——————————————————————————

You walk home from study hall still feeling about as defeated as someone not technically on trial can feel. But spiritually? The jury’s in, and the verdict is tragic.

The Farmers Market incident has been haunting you like a ghost that smells like apples, coffee and smugness. And now, on top of that, your heartbreak induced study session confirms that you are falling behind on tort readings and forgetting basic Latin phrases. Unforgivable.

The outfit had been perfect. A cropped athletic zip-up—fitted, sleek, a little smug. High-waisted black pants. Crisp white sneakers. Hair: tight braid. Lip gloss: subtle shimmer. Jewelry: minimal, coordinated. It had even earned you a wink from Harv as you slipped into the study hall, still a little flushed from the walk over.

But now?

Now it just looks… tired.

The zip-up hugs you like it’s trying to pretend nothing’s wrong. The braid has unraveled into a sad-looking ponytail. The gloss is long gone.

You catch your reflection in a passing window and think: You tried.

But the day has emptied you. No reply from the newbie. No plan.

Just silence, and a very specific ache that settles somewhere between your ribs and your pride.

Honestly, with what little knowledge you have, if you were your own client right now, you’d probably be advising yourself to settle.

But you have a plan. Or… One last, responsible, future-focused move.

You’re going to tell the newbie that you both need to rest your case. Or risk tanking your grades over a man who hugs women at farmers markets and smells like cinnamon betrayal.

You’ll say it in person. Because the lack of replies can only mean one thing: they are spiraling alone.

Which, honestly, makes you the worst kind of co-counsel. So now you owe them a sit-down. A debrief. A legal meltdown with caffeine and solidarity and maybe mild defamation.

Because if Caleb is with her—if apple girl is officially out of the hypothesis phase and fully into confirmed status territory—then the case is closed.

Not in your favor.

And maybe, just maybe, if you say it all out loud— “We need to drop the case.”

—it’ll start to feel real.

Even if it never should’ve been admissible in the first place.

So, you swing by the café. Not dressed to impress. Not even to exist. Just to deliver your quiet little ‘case closed’.

And walk straight into the worst possible plot twist.

The café is empty.

Except for him.

He’s behind the counter, wrist deep in wiping down the espresso machine. Caleb looks up when the bell over the door chimes.

And he sees you.

Like—really sees you. Ponytail slipping. Eyes tired. The kind of defeat that even a strong espresso shot wouldn’t bother trying to fix. He raises an eyebrow, slow. “Didn’t expect to see you again today. Study break? Or did the prosecution finally crack?”

Your whole body reacts before your brain does. You turn on your heel, already halfway out

“I was just looking for the newbie.”

His voice follows you before you can escape:

“Ouch. Not your favorite barista anymore? They’ve surpassed me already?”

You freeze.

Stupid, stupid body.

Then—

Footsteps.

“Got a text from the newbie,” he says, a little closer now. “They weren’t feeling great, asked if I could cover.”

Of course they did.

Of course he showed up.

Because the universe doesn’t believe in restraining orders. Or emotional boundaries. Apparently.

Caleb crosses the room in a few strides and gently grabs your wrist, not tight—just enough to stop you.

You glance down, try to pull your expression together, but it’s too late.

He’s already looking at you.

Really looking.

“Hey,” he says, quiet now. “Are you okay?”

You blink. “Yeah. It’s just—school. Grades. Deadlines.”

He watches you for a moment, eyes scanning your face like he already knows what’s there. Then, gently: “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head before he even finishes the sentence.

But he doesn’t pull back.

He just watches you for a moment, then says—softer, like he’s offering a lifeline without asking for anything back—

“You can… you know… Tell me stuff.”

Your eyes stay fixed on the floor.

He adds, a little crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’m not saying I give great advice. But I’m an excellent listener. Very judgmental, obviously. But… I’m here.”

Still, you say nothing. You don’t have words yet. Maybe not even thoughts. Just static.

Not because you don’t want to.

Because you can’t.

Because you haven’t had time to come up with a version of the story where you don’t have to say I saw you with her, or you looked so happy it broke me, or you were never mine, and I forgot that for a second.

So instead, you just look down. Shrug. Swallow the lump in your throat like it’s admissible evidence.

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he reaches out.

No warning. Just a sudden, warm hand resting on top of your head, fingers threading lightly through your hair before settling there.

A gentle, grounding weight.

You freeze.

Then lean into it—helplessly, instinctively—like someone starved for affection, seeking warmth you didn’t realize you missed until it was right there. His palm is steady. His thumb brushes slowly against your temple.

“I know the feeling,” he murmurs. “Flight school finals are brutal. Same kind of pressure. Different altitude.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Then, after a beat: “…You leaned into that a little fast.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t ruin it, silly.”

Then you breathe him in, and—yeah. Of course. His wrist smells like coffee. Subtle, warm, familiar. You knew it would. Because of course even that is unfair.

Then, voice low, with the faintest curl of a grin:

“Congratulations, Golden Girl. You’ve been upgraded to first-class comfort.”

Before you can reply, his fingers reach further up—gentle, casual—and give your ponytail a light tug to tighten it.

“I’m also decent at braids, if you ever need a professional,” he murmurs.

You laugh—a real one this time. Small. Shaky. A little bitter at the edges

You probably braid apple girl’s hair every night like you’re auditioning for boyfriend of the year in a Hallmark movie.

He pulls back, eyes scanning your face for a moment, then tips his head toward the bar. “C’mon. You need a distraction. I was about to close and head out, but I make exceptions for exhausted law students.”

You blink. “Are you about to make me your apprentice?”

“Temporary intern,” he says. “Zero pay. Unlimited caffeine.”

Then he gestures you behind the counter like it’s no big deal, and for some reason, you follow. Your bag stays by the door. So does your pride.

Caleb steps behind the counter, opens a drawer, and pulls out an apron.

“Here,” he says, soft.

Before you can protest, he’s behind you—close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. He slips the apron over your head, then reaches around, arms brushing your sides as he grabs the ties. His fingers skim your waist as he knots the ends in front of you.

Your pulse trips over itself. He steps back like nothing happened, and you try to pretend you didn’t just forget how to stand upright.

Then he starts walking you through the pour-over—steady, focused, his voice low and even. He talks ratios, temperature, extraction time. How not to burn the beans. It should feel technical. But with him? It sounds like a ritual.

Like he’s teaching you something sacred. And the whole time, you’re aware of the apron cinched at your waist. The ghost of his hands. The heat of him still lingering like steam over hot coffee.

You pretend to listen.

But really?

You’re watching that stupid necklace again.

It catches the light every time he moves—just a glint of silver chain, the dog tag shifting, the apple charm swaying like it knows exactly what it’s doing to you.

You want to ask again. You almost do.

But instead you say: “You ever teach the newbie this?”

He smirks without looking up. “They refuse. Keep saying they’re just here for the vibes.”

You laugh, and he glances at you—just quick, just warm. Like maybe this is his way of showing you what he does when the pressure gets too loud.

And maybe this is what kindness looks like from someone who normally disarms you with charm.

Maybe this is worse.

Because it’s working.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

He walks you through the pour-over like it’s a party trick, talking casually, hands steady.

“You always like this when you’re stressed?” he asks, glancing sideways.

You shrug. “I’m a law student. If I’m not stressed, it means I’m unconscious.”

Caleb chuckles. “Fair. But you’re doing great. Better than the newbie, anyway. Don’t tell them I said that.”

“You’re lying.”

“A little,” he says, voice low and warm against your ear. “But you’ve got good instincts.”

Before you can respond, he leans over you—slow, deliberate—his chest brushing your shoulder as he reaches around to adjust your hand on the kettle. His fingers wrap lightly around yours, steadying the pour, guiding the motion like it matters. Like you matter.

“Slower,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Let it bloom.”

You try to focus. Really. But his breath is on your neck, his voice soaked in something softer than it should be, and the charm sways beneath his collar, catching the light like it’s in on the secret. You huff a laugh—weak, distracted—trying not to drown in the heat of him. Trying not to look at his jawline or the way he’s basically breathing in your thoughts.

The coffee finishes brewing. He sets a mug in front of you.

“No pressure,” he says. “But this cup might turn your whole day around.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You offering a refund if it doesn’t?”

He pretends to think. “No, but I can offer… moral support. Emotional buffering. Maybe a cookie if I dig around.”

You smile despite yourself. Sip. It’s good. Obviously. And for a second, just a second, it’s easy to forget everything else.

He leans on the counter, watching you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, too easily. “Just nice to see you smile again.”

Your heart does something.

Stupid, stupid heart.

You look back down at your drink, cheeks warm, trying not to smile too wide.

Maybe you are a little pathetic. But it’s fine.

You don’t say much after that.

You don’t need to.

He wipes down the counter while you sip the last of your coffee like it might stall time. But eventually, the clock catches up. The quiet starts to settle into finality.

You turn to say goodnight, maybe thank him, but he steps in just slightly—just enough that your breath catches—and leans in.

A brief, barely-there kiss to your cheek.

Warm. Soft. Gone before you can react.

“Feel better, Golden Girl,” he says, voice low and a little shy now. “Come see me again. I’ve got more of that… upgraded comfort waiting.”

Then, like it’s nothing—like it isn’t about to undo you completely—he reaches into his canvas tote hidden behind the counter. Pulls out an apple. Smooth, golden.

“Picked this up at the farmers market,” he says, holding it out. “Figured you’d appreciate the brand.”

You blink, caught. It’s a Golden Delicious apple.

“A golden apple,” he says, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For the Golden Girl.”

You take it. Silently. Trying not to show how stupidly much that means.

“Remember to eat,” he adds, already turning toward the entrance, voice gentler than it has any right to be.

You nod once, too stunned to speak.

Caleb opens the door for you.

And you step out into the night, cheeks warm, heart loud.

The air is crisp, your hands still wrapped around that stupid golden apple, and you tell yourself this is fine. Normal. Just coffee. Just golden apples—sweet ones that should taste like summer but land bitter on your tongue. Just a kind, caring barista with a heart already spoken for.

You nod to yourself. Yeah.

You can do this.

You can be a normal customer.

Order takeaway coffee. Smile. Leave. Study for finals. Because you made a decision—and you’re sticking to it.

Because you’re absolutely not going to fall back into his orbit.

A bite of apple, a quick tug to tighten your ponytail like armor, and then forward—no looking back.

You chew, waiting for the bitterness you assumed would be there.

But there’s none.

Just sweetness. Sharp and stubborn and almost cruel in how good it tastes.

And then your phone buzzes.

newbie: kinda had a moment. caleb’s covering for me. so yeah. case = closed, i guess.

You exhale through your nose, a small smile tugging at your lips. Fingers hover for a second before you reply—grateful to have the newbie in your life. Someone who gets it without needing a whole closing argument.

you: yeah. feels closed.

You hit send and keep walking.

——————————————————————————

Part 8

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Aaa, dear me. I hope I didn’t scare anyone off with that little burst of angst from the MC finally revealing herself. But trust me, the arc is arcing, and we’re just starting to brush against the edges of the complex man known as Caleb. This is… still achingly based on a true story aaaaaaa. My college days were the best and worst of days. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[alexa-yukiyu]

HEAR ME OUT

Asl + Garp or Whitebeard pirates with a Sassy!(nine year old) reader!

Like, lil Dokucha literally destroys with sarcasm and cynicism, spitting out facts left and right

Cynical Ways Ft Ace and Luffy

A/n Woop woop guess who did in fact for the first time in forever actually did what she planned on doing in the plane and managed to write a fic and a half ✊🏼. I ‘m hoping this one hit cause I had lil trouble understanding the concept of cynicism but hopefully I got it; or at least got close

Reader here is replaced by dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both Reader and oc characters readers!

“Oh Goody, he’s back,” Dokucha called from her spot on the branch as she glanced down at her brother, who just gave her a side glance.

“What are you talking about?” Ace grumbled as he lowered his pipe once he was sure the animal below him was down for the count.

“Your favorite old man!” She grinned, letting her body fall from the branch only to hold herself upside down using her legs

“Great,” He grumbled.

“He brought another kid with him,” she added.

“That better be a joke”

“C’mon Ace, don’t be too mean, alright? Maybe the kid will be tough like Sabo.”

Dokucha sighed at her brother’s action; he did in fact not, listen to his sister’s words. The first thing he did the moment the kid had gotten close enough was spit on him, which threw the latter into a small rage, demanding answers from Ace, who simply sat above his recent kill, glaring at the newcomer.

She rolled her eyes at his broody intimidation as she jumped down from her branch, giving the child a small spook.

“Ah, There he is,” Garp piped in, approaching the trio.

“Luffy, this is Ace and Dokucha; they are twins, three years older than you. You will be living with them from now on.”

“Hello,” she teased, approaching Luffy.

“What’s up with him? I’m still waiting for an answer!” he growled, pointing at Ace, who remained on his spot above the animal.

“Your definitely are energetic, and what’s up with the hat?” She mused as she circled Luffy, taking a hold of the item only to blink owlishly as Luffy snatched it back with a Snarl

“Don’t touch it!”

“Protective, aren’t you? Not bad for a squirt. Maybe if you keep it up, you might get somewhere, but yet again, probably not,” she piped up.

“What did you call me?! Do you want to fight?!”

“Out of all I said that’s what bothered you?I I like you, kid,” she grinned, leaning closer to him.

“But I don’t trust people like you; we don’t trust people like you, the ambitious type, I mean. I can already tell you’re way too reckless for your own good.”

“Dokucha, Luffy; behave yourselves,” Garp growled as he gave Luffy a bonk on his head, the latter giving a slight whine in response.

“That’s rich coming from an old man who is on his way to dump a third kid to some bandits. Talk about duty and responsibility,” she shot back, ignoring the way Garped narrowed his eyes at the girl.

“I’m about to show you what duty looks like if you keep it up with your snide remarks, Dokucha,” he called as he gave her the same treatment he had given Luffy seconds before. However, this time, he received a hit in the arm in response to his action.

“Don’t hit her old man!” Ace growled pipe rised up in his direction as he placed himself between Garp and his sister who crouched on the floor holding her head in pain.

“So you want to join too?! That’s alright. I can simply set you all straight with a fist of love.” Garp exclaimed, giving one final Bonk to Ace

Ace tsked, holding his head in pain at the hit, as he watched the old man make his existence after giving them all some of his ‘love.’ Irritated at the interaction, he grabbed the animal he had hunted and stomped his way to the lodge.

“Geez, that really hurt,” Dokucha groaned, rubbing her head.

“Dokucha, let’s go,” he ordered flatly without looking back at her.

“Yes, Yes, don’t get your panties in a twist,” she grumbled, trotting her way behind him but not before towards Luffy one last time.

“Bye, Luffy, we’ll talk again if you’re still alive then,” she called, turning around in time to meet a fuming Dadan at the door of the lodge.

“Where do you brats think you’re going?! Why don’t you scram for the rest of the day?!” She called as she blocked their way.

Not in the mood to deal with a pissed Dadan, Ace threw a glance to his sister, gesturing to deal with the situation; her cynicism always seemed to be what was needed to beat Dadan’s rage.

“That’s fine by us, but know that will mean that we will be taking the hunt with us,” she started gesturing towards the animal that Ace had been dragging.

“It would be a pity having to eat it in the wild, but if you want to spend the rest of the evening trying to catch another animal, be my guest. Maybe if you look hard enough, you will find some insects to get you through the night, seeing as most of the big guys are already tapped out for the day. I do admire your desire to better yourself,” she called, fake amazement dripping from her voice.

Dadan simply glared at her, knowing that the girl was not wrong. Sending her away, though it could save her a headache, would mean the group would go to sleep hungry while the little brats feasted outside.

“Just get inside and stay out of the way!” She huffed out, turning around to head inside, not bothering to give them another glance

“I’m Glad you still have common sense, Miss Dadan,” she replied in a saccharine voice as she and her brother followed after her.

🤭🤭

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[cosmiclatte28]

Forced Marriage II

Hello!! The awaited second part is here! Refresh memory here

Thank you so much for waiting and I promise, one more chapter and this trilogy is done. Also I already have the idea and ending, so it's going to be fast.

A/n : I cried in the middle of writing this. A bit too carried away by the emotion of explaining (y/n)'s abusive father. I cried like cried a lot and sobbed. Blew my nose and wiped my eyes but as I type tears keep falling (I hope I am not the only one crying)

trigger warning : character's death

tagging : @yutahoes @neopalette @swagmonsterofficial @byunniebaekhyunnie @huniehoeee

writing net : @supermwritersnet @multifandomnet

“Good morning Mam, is (y/n) awake?" Baekhyun greets the young lady watering the small garden on the front porch.

“Oh Baekhyun! What is it that makes you come early in the morning? And No she hasn't” your mother looks at the young energetic man in front of her. Memories flash by her eyes when she still remembers Baekhyun being the small cheerful boy from next door. Puberty does hit him well, your mother thought.

“Did you bump your head last time mam?” Baekhyun playfully asks, he knows your mother close enough to crack jokes and secretly your mother loves his playful jokes.

“Oh Baekhyun, you’ve never changed! Always the fun silly careless boy from next door. Now, I know you’re here to deliver milk right?” your mom takes a peek at the truck Baekhyun’s brother is handling.

Well the Byun family owns a farm and supplies milk and eggs to this town and the neighboring town. They’re a well known family for it.

“Do you mind if we get one more bottle? We have guests today.” Your mother takes out her wallet to pay for the milk and Baekhyun nods “We have plenty today! I’m glad your guest gets to taste this town’s best milk. Who is this lucky guest mam?” Baekhyun asks as he puts the milk down to the front patio.

Your mother comes back with some cash and gives it to Baekhyun along with a basket of fresh bread she just baked this morning.

“It’s your favorite bread. I see there’s a lot of deliveries today.” your mom smiles seeing the truck full of eggs and milks.

Baekhyun nods “Yes, business is doing good.”

“Oh about the guest, well he’s (y/n)’s future fiance. Hope you can meet him soon and be friends with him. He’s a nice guy, like you Baekhyunie.” your mother taps his nose like she used to when Baekhyun was nine.

Baekhyun’s smile falls when he hears “(y/n)’s future fiance.” what is this? Why has he never heard the news from you?

He has a lot to ask but his brother already honks the horn and Baekhyun comes back to his senses

“Come over for dinner or lunch next time Baekhyun!” your mother offers a polite invitation to the young lad and Baekhyun puts on his smile again as he bows “Thank you and I’ll see you soon mam.” he waves goodbye and jumps into the free seat next to his brother.

“Have a nice day you two!” your mother sends the Byun brothers off and descends to the kitchen with the fresh milk.

“Baekhyunie,” she sighs and hides a small smile “Always charming and sweetheart, some lady will be lucky to have him one day.”

--

Baekhyun’s brother hears everything, but he is not aware of the romantic feelings both you and Baekhyun share. He only knows the relationship between his brother and you is platonic.

“Look at (y/n), it’s like only yesterday their family moved in and both of you are so young. Running around carelessly, getting bruises from trying to climb trees, and woop she’s engaged now. When will you get a fiancee Baek?” his brother jokes around and wiggles his eyebrow to Baekhyun who only keeps his head on the road by the window

He sighs “I don’t know, why don't you get married first. You’re the brother here.” he scorns

You spend the day waiting for your neighbor’s head to pop up on the window but until lunch he’s not back yet. Your mother told you he’s away to the town and the neighboring town for the day but usually by afternoon they’re back. There’s nothing much for you to do since Sehun bid farewell and said he’ll return next week with the plans all ready and the wedding can happen soon. You don’t even have to buy a dress because your mother wants you to use hers, since its the tradition. You scoff in your mind, when do you ever have a chance to make a choice?

Even something as simple as what outfit to wear to meet someone, your mother won’t let you choose by yourself

Tea time makes you finally move your butt from sitting next to the window. His room window is still shut closed and the truck is still not home. Did something happen to them? Your worry disappears when the truck comes into your sight but you already got yourself dragged out of your room by your mom.

Baekhyun washes his body quickly and climbs up to his room after faking a smile to his parents. His brother is busy counting today’s revenue but Baekhyun opens his window and sits down only to stare at yours which was still open.

He can see your room, how the lights are on and he knows that means you were dragged out and you didn't have the chance to turn the lights off.

He sighs and closes his curtain, watching your empty room already makes it hard for him to breathe. What about the day when you will move into Sehun’s house?

Judging by his car yesterday, Baekhyun knows he is from the city and he is rich. Will Baekhyun be able to wake up in the morning knowing that the reason he wakes up everyday is now taken away from him? Not that he can actually say “taken away” since he never claims you as his.

You sit uncomfortably on your chair. Your father keeps on talking about this wedding. He doesn't even realize he’s indirectly saying “I am marrying you to Sehun just for the sake of my business so it won’t crumble down and you’ll live a good life after I die.”

Your ear burns with every single word your father rambles. Yes you grew up with his strict rules, you got hit several times but this… setting up your marriage and pressing on you to accept it as his last wish hurts the most.

“I don’t love Sehun.” you try to speak up your voice.

Your dad chuckles as he sips on his tea “I never said this marriage is based on love.”

You gulp and look at your mom with your red eyes. You’re ready to cry and scream here that you’re tired of your life being controlled but your mother shakes his head gently with a pleading look and you don't want to hurt her feelings so you keep your lips shut.

--

Life feels like hell after Sehun’s constant mail filled with questions of which flower you want, what color you want his tie to be and whatever useless question he asks (it’s useless because you don’t intend to bother thinking of which color or flower for a wedding you don’t want).

Since the day Sehun left, you’ve never met Baekhyun too and that is odd. Something about the way his window is always closed when you wake up, how he never pops his head randomly at the window, his constant busy days that you don’t hear any knock of pebbles on your window and the disappearing sunshine in your life.

Your wedding invitation is distributed already to everyone that’s within the inner circle and in your hand now lies one more invitation you can’t bring yourself to hand.

“Byun family” was written on the addressed invitation. You hold the invitation in your hand and almost drop it when your mother suddenly enters your room and questions you with “Whose invitation is that you’re still holding?”

You gulp “Baekhyun’s” your voice croaks and your mother nods.

“Why are you not giving it to them?” she sits down next to you and runs a hand on your hair.

“I haven't seen him and I want to give it to him.” you lie. Well to be honest, you’d rather have your mom deliver this to his mother but you need an excuse to meet Baekhyun and he’s been gone so you need to see him. At least see him before you are married to another man you barely know.

--

Early in the next morning, you wake up to the noise from the window. You open the blinds, looking to find the ruckus and that's when your eyes pop open. There you see Baekhyun jumping around the garden and his family are just smiling and patting his back. You saw a white envelope in his hand and you're trying to remember if he ever tells you about waiting any good news. No, Baekhyun never tells you anything. You open your window and pop your head out waiting for the happy man to notice you and maybe share the good news with you, but until he climbs into his room, he didn't spare you a glance and instead he's calling someone and you're sure that is Chanyeol.

You tried to eavesdrop but it's impossible despite the close distant, someone was using the blender downstairs. Annoyed, you toss some rock to his direction but it all doesn't hit him.

Now, you're mad. What made him ignore you, was it that carnival night incident? After that you never met him… so is that why he is still ignoring you?

You wave and try to get his attention, to which he completely didn't see. Alas, your mother calls you for breakfast and you have to go.

The sweet smell of waffles make you smile and lighten up your sour mood.

"What's the good news in Baekhyun's house?" You ask your mom when she looks like she knows something.

She smiles as she sips her tea "Oh didn't you hear? He was auditioning for a record company and well he sent his tape and he won the offer. The company wants him to move to the town this weekend and they will begin his contract and discuss his debut. Oh that Baekhyun!" Your mom wipes a tear that fell, as if he is her son and she is so damn proud.

Your father smiles "Good fella, he sure will make it big. I remember him singing in the town hall when he was eleven! Good vocal, good looks, easy personality. I think the company made a good decision."

Both your parents are so happy, but you… something inside your heart is furious. How come he never tells you about this, will he leave you? Leave you for a dream that might flop!

You hide your feelings during breakfast and after cleaning up, you sneak out to knock on Baekhyun's window.

The mischievous grin you memorize by heart appears in the window and he gladly opens it up so you can climb in.

"What makes you climb in my window?" He calmly asks. His stupid smile still there as if he didn't do any mistakes and he was surprised you are here.

You sigh "You lied."

He shrugs his shoulders "You lied first."

You scrunch your brow "What do you mean?!"

He sits down and you copy him "Well, you didn't tell me the truth that you are engaged."

You froze and he slaps your back "Guess my proposal last time wasn't good. Congratulations." He tried to joke it off but you are tearing up.

"Don't congratulate me. I don't know him and I don't love him."

Baekhyun sighs "It's father again isn't it?" He places a comforting arm around you and you bury your face in his chest. Crying your heart out and calming you down.

"I'm sorry honey, I couldn't propose wealth to your father and I couldn't even ask your hand for marriage with a diamond ring. I'm sure that lucky guy has so many to offer you." He rubs your hair but his words sting more and you punch him "I don't need that. I just want to be with you."

"Well, we can still be friends." He tries to hold his emotion back at the word friends.

"But I want you as my husband! I love you." You stare into his eyes and see his eyes smile "I just need to hear that. I also love you."

"And you are not telling me that you auditioned for that singing company!" You punch his chest again.

Baekhyun giggles "Sorry, I heard your mom said about the fiance and I was so sad and mad at myself for not claiming you first… so that made me send my audition tape because I thought that you're going to be his and it'll hurt me."

"So you're leaving me with that man. You run!" You let out a breather

Baekhyun bites his lips "Well, I have to chase my dream like you always said."

"My dream is to be a singer." Baekhyun stands up and shows you the acceptance letter.

You read it through the tears "This is so far away Baek."

"Well, but it's a step closer to singing in stage!" He stares at you with passionate energy in his eyes and you couldn't bring yourself to beg for him to just stay here and be your neighbor so you can at least wake up and see him and feel less bad.

"Now, I have to leave this Sunday. Do you want to spend the rest of the week with me?"

You nod and hide the invitation behind your back. No he shouldn't know that you're getting married. Let him think he is only your fiance that won't hurt him.

"It's Tuesday already, we have 5 days."

You wipe your tears and lock your eyes to the ecstatic boy.

"Later i will write songs about you! About our friendship and about our memories. I'll make money and I can get you that diamond ring and we can host a wedding you love! The simple one in a garden." He pretends he is walking down the aisle and you just want to disappear. No one should break his heart but if he must get his heart broken why must it be from you?

"So, (y/n) wait for me okay. Don't get feelings with this man."

You scoff, Baekhyun doesn't even know the man's name.

"And then one day I will return to you and we can live like our dream." He takes your hands into his and twirls you around the room. You laugh and giggle, feeling alive from the small action you missed.

He ends with hugging you and you wish so hard that life could change its path and you can be with Baekhyun.

"Congratulations Baekhyun!" You whisper

--

5 days. 5 days to Baekhyun's departure and 6 to your wedding.

Day 1, you rush your fitting and got to spend the afternoon walking to the rose garden near the forest.

Day 2, Baekhyun starts packing and you're using the chance to practice your wedding speech and your walk. The afternoon was spent together strolling around down town

Day 3, You had to pick the dress up and Baekhyun had to legalize some of his documents. You sneak to his rooftop that night, both of you just sitting and enjoying the starry nigh.

Day 4, You help him pack only for him to realize your body has bruises. He stops you from helping and folds your sleeves "What else did you do?"

You shake your head and unfold the sleeve trying to shake it off saying it's just a small problem but Baekhyun could see the fear in your eyes and he knows you're lying.

"Wait for me, I'll save you. I promise." He pulls you into a hug and for the first time, you press a deep kiss into his lips.

Day 5, You hand him the invitation and you're glad you kissed him last night because right now all you can see is your feet and how Baekhyun's hand trembles. His hair hides his eyes but from the way his lips shake and his body shakes, you know he is furious and disappointed at you.

"I am sorry." You whisper

"Why not sooner." He asks, his voice so bitter and dry. His eyes still avoid yours.

"I want to spend my time with you before you go."

"But why you keep this invitation until today?!" His voice cracked and you cried. This time, he doesn't console or calm you down. He lets you cry alone

He closes the invitation "You could've given me sooner and I won't be promising you all those dreams. Now I sound like the jerk who made promises to a girl who will be married in two days! Grow up (y/n)! If I knew this-"

You cut him off "If you knew this, you'd avoid me Baek! And I wouldn't want to waste my precious 5 days to be with you. Heck who knows if this might be the last time we see each other." You're furious too and Baekhyun shakes his head "What are you talking about. We're adults! I'll definitely accept the news like a mature man. I won't give you the silent treatment."

You scoff "You would. I know you Baekhyun."

"And if you know me… do you know that because you did this, i am now so i don't know… i'm " he pauses

"You hate me?" You ask that

He shakes his head and stomps his leg "I love you okay! But this is not right! I'll. You know what?" He couldn't speak right and couldn't think straight

"This will make my departure easier. You do know artists cannot date and I'll be busy. Well, now I won't have the reason to think about you and our dream. You're going to be with him forever and i? I will be the fool who didn't know you're already someone else's. Goodbye. And congrats."

"No Baekhyun. Please, sorry. I cannot do anything!"

"Yes I know. You're just too afraid of everything your father said. You can't fight for yourself and oh I'm tired okay! If you told me earlier, we could think of a way to stop this. But now it's too late! I'm leaving tomorrow and your wedding is ready! Don't make yourself an embarrassment by canceling the date. Go, live your silver spoon life. Goodbye (y/n) it was nice knowing you."

Baekhyun steps inside his house, closes the door and you're there staring at the floor, eyes still wet.

He's right . It's too late.

You force yourself to go home and well, you didn't even get to send him a proper goodbye.

--

Baekhyun just left like that, with a simple goodbye from the window and he’s gone. You are also preoccupied by the busy preparation for the big day tomorrow that you don’t have time to ask Baekhyun about his arrival or well updates.

While drowning in the sadness of losing Baekhyun, your best friend, your love, and your dream, you have no soul left when you have to recite the vows. The wedding bells deafen your ears, the smile from the guests blind your eyes and when Sehun kisses your lips, your tears fall because Baekhyun’s right everything is too late to be fixed.

You’re glad Sehun didn’t force you to sleep with him on the first night. He respects your decision and you sleep peacefully that night, mostly because you’re tired of thinking and the day is tiring.

Your morning wasn’t any difference than before, despite living in a house not far from home, you didn’t feel any difference. Well, Sehun is as stoic as your dad, his morning is filled with coffee, newspapers, and him checking his agenda.

“We will be busy this week, your dad wants to move the company ownership to us, you will follow me to the office. Go dress up smart and I’ll see you in the car an hour from now, is that enough?” he asks and you nod.

The maids here clean up the table as Sehun leaves to fetch his documents and working bag and you just hope Baekhyun will reply to any of your texts.

The paperwork takes your whole one week, office paperworks, house ownership, marriage legalization and well with your father’s health deteriorating it’s been hard for everyone to keep signing papers when father is in the hospital. Your father has already prepared his last wills and all beneficiaries.

You finally get news from Baekhyun’s mother saying that he already signed the contracts and the company loves him and wants to make a great debut for him. He’s preparing to write songs and he is arranged to debut in two years if he is good.

One month after being Oh Sehun’s wife, you begin to see a difference in your husband’s attitude. Yes he can be a caring man, his cold facade is slowly gone, but the sly look in his face is still there. You don’t know what but something in your guts say that this is just the calm before the storm. Your father’s condition gets worse and the hospital announces that he will probably have months left. You take turn with your mom in looking after dad. He’s in the bedroom lying down half alive, the machines keep his heart pumping and the oxygen tube in his nose forces oxygen into his lungs. You feel bad for him, despite all the pain you grew up with, your dad was a responsible person who never leaves you and your mom.

“I am sorry (y/n) for being a bad father. I hope you forgive me and I hope your future will be good.” he said that one afternoon when he saw you crying on his side. You were crying because you were telling him your heart about how he hurts you but he was trying his best for his family.

“I am sorry I cannot be your ideal daughter.” you hold his hand and he smiles weakly, “You’re all I would ask for. I love you and mom so much but I’m just so bad am I not? I hit you a lot.”

You cry harder, “It was because you care about me.”

He shakes his head “I shouldnt have been that hard. You’re a flower after all, we need to handle you with care”

“But you trained me to be a warrior dad. And whatever storm I will face one day, I will be thankful that you beat me as a kid so that I won’t just cry and accept fate if things go wrong.”

Your father lets another tear fall “I hope you don’t have to experience that time, but if you have to, I know I prepared you well.”

You hold into his hand tighter “I forgive you dad. Do you forgive me?”

He smiles “I never hate you love, I always forgive your mistakes every night before I sleep. I just have to punish you so you know that everything comes with consequences.”

You nod “I’ll remember that, how are you feeling dad?”

He coughs “Feeling like a sinner confessing his sins, but I’m glad I have time to tell you this.”

You kiss his hand and he takes a deep breath. “Be happy my flower, use the wealth for good stuff, and always help others. Remember that everything takes process.”

Your mom comes into the room and when the golden sun rays kiss your dad’s face, he glances to you and your mom. His sincere smile blooms and both you and your mom hold his hands, he takes one deep breath “My job here is done, I love you both.” he lets a big exhale and there goes your father. A great man who just can’t express his love in the best way.

Come to think of it, he is always coming home whenever he can. He tries to go home fast so he can eat dinner together. He only starts breakfast when all the chairs are filled. He taught you how to use a screwdriver, he taught you chess so you can beat your nosy friends. He helped you ride your bike. He’s the one who pays all of your living cost and not for once has he made you worried about what the family will eat for today. When life wasn’t as easy as this, he made sure you can still get a new dress on special days and he tries his best to bring you to the circus tour. Wealth came to your father when he was old and you were a young adult, and now he doesn’t have the time to enjoy it too much but he gave it all to you.

Baekhyun trained so hard day and night. His will and desire to be an artist beat all of his homesickness and exhaustion. He always appears in the training room with a big smile even though he has to go home half asleep. The company loves his attitude and promises a lot of good things for him. The boy just smiles, saying he’ll be happy as long as his dream of being an artist comes true. He heard about your dad’s death from his family and actually came home to join the funeral. He saw you but you were too sad to notice him and so he disappeared the next day. He noticed you moved back into your mother’s house because you don’t want her to feel alone. Sehun lets you do that, and because your mom insisted Sehun to also stay there, now the three of you live under the same roof.

Two years after your father’s death, Baekhyun has his debut. Well, it has to be delayed because the company saw that it’s going to be better to debut in Summer than in Fall. His hard work paid off when you finally see his name rising in charts and appearing in music shows. His hair is no longer boring, it’s painted silver white and you never think Baekhyun will look hot as an old man, but here you see him looking so handsome and lively as he finally gets to sing on a stage for thousands of audience. He was labeled as the successful rookie and he’s been offered a lot of advertisements and special appearances. You’re happy whenever you hear the town people talk about his name, or when the radio turns on his song. You missed him, you always text him but he rarely replies.

Everything seems going according to plan, but your guts were right. Those days were just the calm before the storm.

To be continued….

“(Y/n), come to the hospital now.”

“(Y/n) a package is here for you.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N:  I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW:  mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

[imnotwolverine]

Written in Egyptian Cotton

Henry Cavill x OC (Naomi) one-shot

Disclaimer: NSFW, sexual tension w/ someone outside of relationship, emotional blackmailing, break-up, smut

Word count: 9.982

Author’s note: It took a while, but here’s a fic I’ve written on request of darling @cherrybloomn​ (thank you for all your wonderful ideas, patience and help! ❤️). It may have changed quite a bit from your original idea, going from pure smut to something with nearly 10k of backstory - WOOPS - but here goes.

PS. I just got back from work ..and..eh..WHAT?! I got like 200 notifications, which is like 10x what I’m used to getting in such a time frame. So, whatever’s going on; thank you sweet readers, it’s such a joy to see you enjoying my work in such great numbers, and what a great way to start my weekend! YAY!!  🎉

--

Written in Egyptian cotton

‘Well you could have just told me. Yeuss Henry..’ The pretty brunette rolled her eyes and turned away from him, her face pouting as she scooted back, further expanding the already significant distance between the two.

‘But..I did! I…’ He sighed, realising she was no longer listening, her arms crossed in front of her ample bosom as she looked out of the window of the jeep, the vehicle bouncing left and right as it drove over the uneven desert road.

The blond woman in the shotgun seat, Naomi, bit her lip, the petty fight behind her reminding her just what a ..joy..it was to not have a partner of her own. And this definitely wasn’t the first petty fight between her two clients, the two near endlessly bickering over the past week. They were far from the calm, loving couples she was used to giving tours, being a personal traveling guide for the well-to-do.

‘I hate this.’ The brunette softly muttered under her breath, the air in the jeep now so tense that it would only be a matter of time before the ticking time bomb that she, Victoria, was, would completely explode.

The other day she had in fact almost jumped out of the car after a full hour of nagging that she didn’t want to go. And now? Now she was picking a fight over the fact that Henry hadn’t told her explicitly that we wouldn’t be back before dinner, since..well..the name kind of implied as much; we were going to do a “Night Tour”.

The darling brunette had not packed any extra clothes, which is, no matter what you are going to do in the desert, ab-so-lute-ly ridiculous. People got stuck here all the time and nature didn’t care about your pouting face and stomping feet. Carefully looking over her shoulder Naomi caught a glimpse of Henry’s eyes as he bit his tongue again, the large man quietly clenching his fists before his blue eyes quickly looked away, avoiding Naomi’s knowing gaze.

It was going to be a long, long, long afternoon..and probably even longer night.

Shivering in the cold night air as she had given some of her spare clothes to Victoria, Naomi called a silent prayer as she heard the wind in her back carry the all familiar nagging voice of one very unhappy client.

Would this ever end?

‘My feet hurt. Can we go back?..HENRY? Hello? Earth to Henry?…I’m tired.’ The small company just trudged on through the sandy dunes, some pocket lights shining the way to a small beduin village where a local would tell about life in the desert and explain how the stars were used to travel in the vast expanse of this sandy landscape.

It was a pretty night. The wind laying low and the stars sparkling bright like a million tiny freckles on a black velvet canvas. Almost perfect. Almost, the peace and quiet of millions of sand grains not being able to muffle the never-ending wails that escaped Victoria’s lips, no matter what her lover Henry tried - the shame and annoyance clear on his clean shaven, handsome face.

‘Vic..- URGH - Victoria. Please. Just…’ Henry’s voice came out strained and choppy. ‘Stop.’

‘Oh YOU WANT ME TO STOP. Well here.’ She stopped her dragging feet at once, soon falling even further behind. Henry halted as well, shining his light at her, her face turned up in an angry scowl. ‘..I stopped.’ She growled.

‘Vic..baby come on. I promise once we get back I’ll make it up. We’ll..’ He hesitated. ‘We’ll..just..reschedule our plans. Look for a..a..swimming pool..and..hammam. Get you pampered, hmm? Just a few more hours, okay babe?’

‘FUCK. YOU.’ She near-screamed over the listening landscape, the small gathering of other tourists that had arrived for the tour now also halting to hear and see what was amiss with these two.

Naomi quickly paced back to check on her bickering clients, her heels sinking away in the heavy sand before she halted next to Henry, his voice just biting back a quiet; ‘I wish we’d at least do tha..’ - ‘Hey. You okay?’ Naomi looked Henry up and down, his face long and exasperated. He looked positively DONE with his darling girlfriend.

‘Yea..it’s..we just..’ He looked at Victoria and wetted his lips. ‘..Just a..just a moment, okay?’ He offered Naomi a pleading look and took a shaky breath before quickly moving down the dune hill to talk some sense into Victoria.

They truly were an interesting pair. Victoria playing Henry like a fiddle. A sweet caress, a little flirt, followed with an on-slaught of ..well..emotional blackmailing?

Naomi watched Henry disappear in the half-light, her blond hair flailing in the gentle night air as was lit up by the dozen pocket lights that shone behind her back, the rest of the group now also watching the scene unfold.

The scene where Victoria broke with him, Henry.

AGAIN.

Yea..this was emotional blackmailing.

‘Hey.’ - ‘Hey…’ Henry hesitantly stepped into the corner of the hotel bar, Naomi sprawled onto a low sofa as she was typing away on her laptop, the hour late and her hand keeping a cocktail right within arm’s reach. ‘Can I eh..’ He bit his lip. ‘..join? I mean. I don’t want to..’ - ‘Oh yes, of course! Please!’ Naomi hastily sat up and pushed aside the scattering of paper that had gathered around her as she worked through the plans she was making for her next trip.

‘I really don’t want to disturb you. Please…I..’ - ‘Henry.’ Naomi looked up at him with a stern but friendly look. ‘Sit down.’

He sighed and smiled hesitantly, the falling out with Victoria clearly having scarred his confidence a little, his large feet carefully stepping into the small nook to take a seat on the dark blue sofa. With a sigh escaping he let himself sink into the comfortable pillows, his whole being obviously very exhausted with all that had come to pass.

‘See. The couch doesn’t bite.’ Naomi winked, hoping it would lighten the mood ever so slightly as she moved to place all her stuff on the seat next to her.

‘Well that makes one thing that doesn’t bite me in the butt.’ He snickered, his voice echoing the tiredness of his body after a long day of attending to the every need of Victoria - who had thankfully retired to the hotel room by now.

‘Yea..’ Naomi said softly, her voice trailing away in the incense heavy air, the temperature inside the hotel lounge so very comfortable after a few long hours of hiking through the cold desert dunes. She had fallen into a bit of a rosy state, her pale cheeks slightly flustered, a fluster that got even worse when Henry finally laid a good eye on her.

He had that effect on her.

Always had.

‘So..’ Naomi quickly swallowed, reaching for her drink in hope it would cool her down somewhat. ’..that was an eventful night, hmm?’

‘You can say that.’ Henry sighed, sinking even further down in the pillows so he could rest his head on the backrest. It didn’t look like he was going to share his thoughts with her, and Naomi couldn’t blame him.

‘Hey..shall I get you a drink? Looks like you can use a drink.’

‘Oh no..please. I can..’ He tried to get up from his comfortable position but Naomi gently coaxed him back in the pillows. ‘I’ve gotcha, no worries.’ She said, using her fingertips to push him back down. A gesture that made their eyes interlock for another brief moment, both their mouths falling open ever so slightly as Naomi’s nimble fingers felt through the soft fabric of his shirt, noting Henry’s rapid beating heart, his pupils blown out wide.

Naomi hastily pulled back her hand and smiled. ‘Sorry.’

Darn it Naomi! He literally broke up with his girlfriend two hot seconds ago!

Besides..HE’S YOUR CLIENT.

’No..no..please..It’s okay.’ Henry muttered, pushing himself up from the pillows all the same, his eyes looking for hers but she already evaded his gaze again. A mere look of those ocean blues did things to her that she should not even think about. She shouldn’t make the same mistakes she made earlier.

He’s a client. And a very good, returning client at that. Behave yourself!

‘Yea..okay..drinks.’ Naomi pushed herself off the couch and with long strides she carried herself to the bar, out of his sight, one heated night in the city of Rome springing back up in her mind.

Ugh..Rome..

‘Can I ..can I at least have a pillow and a blanket?’ Henry tried, standing in the corner of his and Victoria’s hotel room. ‘Pffft! You run so hot in the night..like you fucking NEED it.’  

‘VICTORIA dammit! I’m trying to just…ARGH..’ - ‘WHAT?! HUH? Make amends?! Oh look at me being all goooood, your superhero ready to serve your every need. I am Henry, I am too good to keep my girlfriend involved when we plan OUR SHARED FUCKING HOLIDAY.’ Victoria fumed as she pricked her long, prettily manicured nail in his chest. ‘Or is that not how it went, hmm? HMMM?’ She moved to spin around on her heel, but Henry caught her arm before she could reach the bed, his hand gripping awkwardly around the silky smooth fabric of her black bathrobe.

Black like the poison in her words.

‘Vic..I’m sorry..really..’ He sounded at loss for words, his every attempt to make things better between them, only causing more damage. His voice got close to breaking as Victoria’s words echoed in his ear.

‘Don’t Vic me.’ She growled, fiercely pulling her arm from his grip and reached for a little blanket and a pillow. ‘Here. You sleep on the fucking couch.’ And with that she threw the items at him before pointing at the couch that was situated behind a curtain in the corner of the room.

Henry blinked and held his breath, the fabric of the little blanket coarse beneath his finger tips.

Another uncomfortable night on a couch, it was.

‘Wow, look at that!’ Henry’s eyes glittered as the boat coasted over the smooth water of the Nile, a number of land workers digging through the wet soil on the river bed to create water trenches for their crops. ‘Cool right.’ Naomi stepped in besides him, joining him as he watched the men work. ‘They’ve been doing it like that for thousands of years. In fact the Egyptians became one of the first cultures to develop such large scale agriculture. And actually.. if you look to the..’ - ‘Hi!’ Victoria peaked in between the two of them, her face all smiles as she squeezed herself through, trying to get a glimpse of what Henry and Naomi were looking at.

‘Whatcha talking about, hmm?’ She smiled at Henry, who blinked at her like she had just slapped him right in the face.

‘Eh..the..the..fieldworkers.’ He quickly gathered himself, stepping aside to make room for her, ever the gentleman. ‘You see those men there?’ He pointed at the bronzed figures in the distance, toiling in the harsh midday sun.

‘Mhm, what about them? Hey, by the way, they have cocktails on board, did you know that?’

And just like that the conversation was diverted back to the many luxuries that Henry didn’t care much about, but Victoria? Oh Victoria most definitely did.

It had played out like this on a near daily basis. Like the bipolar sexbomb Victoria was, she was either a sweet, happy and bubbly spirit, or a projectile of red clawed nails and vicious words whose sole purpose was to hurt whomever got near.

Which, usually was Henry.

As Victoria pulled on Henry’s arm to attract his attention, he looked past the brunette to meet the worried gaze of Naomi. He knew what she thought. All in just one simple look.

Oh...If only his life could be so simple as to understand his lovers with just one look.

If only everything in life was so simple, so gentle, as the caress of her fingers over the cotton sheets of her bed.

Trailing her finger pads over the notoriously soft Egyptian cotton, Naomi looked up at the ceiling of her hotel room. Usually she had a near endless pool of energy to tap from. Traveling, in the end, was her life’s dream. Now, however, she was simply exhausted. Truly, truly exhausted.

Naomi just hoped that beneath the childish nagging and materialistic bullshit that seemed to make up 99% of Victoria’s being, there was somewhere deep underneath that 1% that made her a good match for Henry. Because honestly, she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see what made the two a good fit.

Happy, cheerful Henry seemed honestly depressed. She had known him for years and never had she seen the large man shrink so small and unsure. And Victoria? She seemed truly restless, her gaze and attention falling a bit too often on other men. Rich men. As if she was setting up a back-up plan.

Poor Hen..

*knock knock*

Naomi blinked and turned her head slightly. Had she just imagined that? The room was near quiet, some muted sounds outside the third floor window of a few people walking through the nightly streets of Caïro. Hmm, strange. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She looked back up at the ceiling, her fingers trailing back over the soft cotton.

Maybe she could help him. Maybe she could..

*knock knock*

Alright. There was definitely something, or someone, there. Sitting up and slipping into a bathrobe to look at least a little bit presentable, her bare feet padded over to the door as she searched for a light switch, hands flicking open the lock to see who was there.

Henry, his lips curling in a tentative smile as he carefully let out a little breath.

‘H-heyy..Henry.’ Naomi blinked, then looked into the hallway left and right, almost as if half expecting a vicious Victoria to come chasing him down the long hallway. But, there was nobody else there.

‘Hi. Eh..mind if I eh..’ He gestured over her shoulder and she gulped a quick agreement, stepping back to let him inside.

Did something happen?

‘Yea..sure, sure. Come in. Don’t want to wake the neighbors haha.’ - ‘Yea..the neighbors.’ Henry swallowed, his eyes flying around her small, but comfortable hotel room. On one side of her king sized bed a scattering of maps and tourist info, obviously moved aside so she could go to sleep in the other half, sheets already tousled.

‘You know what...I..It can wait til morning. I didn’t know you went to bed.’

‘Oh no, please, please. I couldn’t sleep AT ALL, actually. Tired yes. Sleep no.’ Naomi shrugged.

‘Hmm.’ Henry’s brows furrowed as he looked back at Naomi, seeing she indeed looked quite tired. So unlike her, the steady force of happy, bubbly excitement in his life right now.

‘I hope it’s not about..Victoria..I really am so sorry about-’ - ‘It’s fine. Truly. I mean, you can’t really help it now, can you? Sometimes things are easy, sometimes they’re...not?’ She smiled at him and quickly moved past, hand accidentally brushing against his as she reached to fold back the sheets, a quick attempt to make the room look somewhat more presentable.

‘So. Anything I can assist you with?’ She turned back around, the energy in the room suddenly very tense.

Oh..they should never be alone. She just knew it. Everytime they were alone, things were bound to happen.

It was past 11 o’clock and Henry, her very hot-hot-hot client, was standing here in her small hotel room. Why?

‘I guess I just..eh..’ He looked around the room again. ‘..wanted to apologise. I mean you had to..’ He gestured at the paperwork on her bed. ‘..change your plans. And I really, truly appreciate all your hard work and how you are dealing with this situation with me and Victoria.’

‘Eh..but of course. I mean, that’s what you hired me for.’ Naomi shrugged it off, barely noticing the restless shuffle of Henry’s feet. ‘It’s not just that though, is it?’ She gave him a discerning look and he slowly shook his head. ‘You know what. This is really silly on my part. It’s late and we both should catch some sleep. Great plans for tomorrow, right?!’

And before Naomi could even blink he had left again.

Was it just her, or was Henry acting increasingly weird now things were crash-and-burning with Victoria?

--

A day off. It was almost strange to have a day off when you were going on a holiday, but right now Naomi was more than a little glad that they had planned this day for everyone to go about their business alone. And, from the looks of it, that was just what everyone was doing. Naomi had given Victoria some tips on local spas that she could visit and Henry had simply vanished into thin air.  

Which was fine. Naomi wasn’t sure if she could handle being alone with him again. Not after that night he had visited her hotel room. And most definitely not now, after she had some hot and bothering dreams in which she explicitly thought of what COULD have happened, had he stayed.

All scenarios including very..VERY unprofessional actions on her part.

Naomi was feeling tense and all she really needed right now, was a nice..relaxing..stretch session.

With her room being simply too small to even sit on the ground properly, she had opted for the hotel’s gym, the midday hour meaning practically all tourists were out in the pool or on excursions. There was nobody else, which made it just a little less awkward to roll around in some shorts and a tank top as she followed along with a Youtube video she would always resort to whenever things in her life got stressful.

Deep relaxing breaths escaped her slightly parted lips as she sat there in a cobra position, head tipped back, eyes closed, arms pushing up her upper body as her legs lay stretched out behind her. Just..breathe in..and..breathe out. Breathe in ..and..

*scchwwupp*

The door of the gym quietly slid open.

Okay, just, don’t pay attention to it. You’re here for you, Naomi. Just..breathe in..breathe out...breathe in..

Not managing to calm her curiosity completely, she peaked through the ceiling height mirror to check who it was. And well, have you there, it was of course a gleaming, beaming, slightly sweaty Henry.

‘Hi.’ He breathed, smiling, getting back his breath after what probably had been a run out in the scorching hot Egyptian sun.

‘Hi.’ Naomi swallowed, quickly reverting her attention back to the video before her and acting like there was nothing awkward about sitting there in clothes that really left nothing to his imagination. And oh how absolutely wonderful it was that she was right in front of that darn floor-to-ceiling mirror, the reflection making sure that he could not only admire her back..but also her front.

UGH..the gods had a sense of humour, didn’t they?

Swallowing back those thoughts she sat back on her buttocks to follow the instruction along, the stretch continuing with a focus on the legs, her hands reaching out to touch her toes, back straight. And ..breathe in...breathe out..breathe in…

She could swear he was watching her, but it was probably rude to check.

And breathe in..breathe..Fine, a little peak then.

Making sure she was not too obvious she quickly eyed Henry, his attention averted to adding weights to a bar.

He looked good. His broad chest sporting a grey shirt that sat snug on his pecs, his shorts begging for mercy as they stretched over his generous booty and thighs, long legs covered in a fine sheen of sweat and hair.

Oh, he was truly a thing of magnificence wasn’t he?

[ Florence, Italy, a few years back. ]

‘And here, the one and only..David by the great artist Michelangelo!’ Naomi pointed at the humongous statue as it rose high above both their heads, Henry’s eyes admiring the smooth stone that bulged with perfectly hewn muscles and sharp facial features much like his own.

Though, not entirely like him, his eyes dragging down to the crotch area before raising a careful eyebrow.

‘Aherm..yes. Times were quite different then,’ Naomi chuckled. ‘..with the Greek also having pretty clear opinions on ideal genitalia sizes and shapes. Smaller, back then, was considered to fit the ideal Greek man, since it fit with the profile of being rational, intellectual and authoritative, whereas bigger penises were related to lust and foolishness. And that was very much opposite of what Greeks wished to exude.’

Henry frowned and slowly shook his head. ‘Why not both?’ To which Naomi broke out in a loud chuckle, making Henry snicker in turn. ‘Sure..why not..both?’ She winked.

--

Why not both?

Well. Not much later that week she had learned what Henry had meant with that little joke. And what he packed away beneath those tight gym shorts she was staring at right now, the fabric straining around his muscles as he bent over to start a timer.

Oh he surely would have made Michelangelo’s David blush - both by those ridiculous gym shorts and what was beneath.

Henry was a man of intellect, authority ..and ..well..he sure as hell was packing.

Swallowing back those thoughts too, Naomi finished her stretching sessions with red hot cheeks - her mind trying to blame it on the barely working airconditioning, but she knew better as she returned her gaze to the mirror, finding his eyes there.

Of course he was looking back at her now she was a blushing mess.

With feral eyes, face in deep grunting focus, he pushed the heavy weighted bar high above his head. The weights at either end probably as heavy as she was, her eyes staring in quiet admiration, the air so very tense again that she just had to hold her breath as she watched him lower down the weight.

Turning around, wishing to bid him a good day and leave, she simply couldn’t. Their eyes interlocking and his face turning into a teasing grin, he furrowed his brow and pushed up the weight again, muscles flexing, hair tumbling over his sweaty face.

Ugh, that beautiful chiseled face.

No matter how focused and snarling he looked at her, she couldn’t help but feel all kinds of hot and bothered, completely ensnared in his gaze. And so she just stood there, watching, phone and gym bag in hand, ready to leave but doing none of the sort.

*cla-clang*

With a slightly awkward slip Henry pushed the weighted bar back in its holder, Naomi finally awaking from her stare as a little smirk appeared on her lips.

‘Don’t hurt yourself, cowboy.’ She mused, finding back her teasing confidence.

Henry snickered and shook his head, looking away for a split second to make sure the weight wasn’t causing damage, before realising she was now really making her way towards the door.

‘Unless of course you want me to.’ He teased back, slightly out of breath, making Naomi offer him one more raised eyebrow over her shoulder before she quickly disappeared.

D-did he mean something by that? Or was this just Henry being unaware of the tease he was being?

[ Rome, Italy, a few years back ]

Blond, bouncy and confident, Naomi waved her hands in the air as she explained in great detail how the city of Rome had been rebuilt numerous times over the past few thousand years. “And look here!” She’d say with that grand smile on her lips, attracting Henry’s attention like nothing else could, his eyes barely managing to tear away from her whenever she wished him to look at a grubble of old decaying rock.

It was the first holiday in years without a lover by his side and, though he was fine with being alone, he couldn’t help but wish for having someone there to share his trips with. And thus he had hired her again. Naomi. He had hired for a trip a year prior, which had been with his brothers, wives, nephews and nieces.

So very different was this trip to Italy, being just the two of them, her hands now halting mid-air as she struck a near comical pose, copying the stance of a statue of a grand fountain they were walking past. Henry chuckled loudly, cheeks dimpling and eyes twinkling.

She was cute.

‘Do you dance?’ He asked, near teasingly.

Oh gods..he couldn’t help but tease her endlessly. It was a perfect way to get the rather professionally dressed and well-learned blond woman before him to loosen up and strike a pose like she did just now. Winking at him, a chuckle on her lips, she nodded towards a bridge in the far distance. ‘Only one way to find out, cowboy!’ She teased back, walking ahead and making Henry chase her through the tourist horde.

He enjoyed the chase.

Looking back over her shoulder she offered him a kitten-like, though also quite taunting, little smirk. ‘..tonight, maybe?’ She smiled.

Henry’s heart flipped out of his chest, his ears almost unbelieving of the very subtle flirt that had just escaped her lips.

It had taken him a full year to get the blondine for him alone. And then some weeks before she would as much as offer him a wink or tease back. But this? THIS?! OOPH, this was more than he could have wished for. He may not be much of a dancer, but her offer? He just couldn’t refuse.

--

‘OH GODS.’ Naomi shot up from the bed, the crinkled Egyptian cotton sheets falling down her naked curves, her eyes staring in slight shock at a sleepily blinking Henry. ‘W-what?’ He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he watched the blondine rush out of his bed, her hands quickly grabbing for her clothes.

Only after her underwear was back in place, did she turn back towards him, eyes big like those of a deer in the headlights. ‘I’m SO..SO sorry. Dammit..ugh..let’s ..forget this ever happened, okay?’ She said, looking at him with intent as she pulled on her jeans with kicking feet. Jeans that he had so deliciously rolled down her legs only a few hours prior.  

Realising what was happening a tad too late, Henry’s sleep muddled brain could only produce a confused ‘Okay..sure..’ As he watched her leave his hotel room.  

Had it all been but a dream?

As a dream is a wish your heart makes

‘UGH..and these don’t fit either!’ Victoria growled, her tone of voice so very unladylike, so very unlike what she presented to the world with her well coiffed hair, elegant white palazzo trousers and silky light blue blouse. It just proved that no matter how pretty a person was from the outside, it could never truly hide what was inside.

Near throwing the “pretty curly shoes” back at the poor vendor, she looked up at Naomi, her mouth curled down in a dissatisfied pout.

Naomi tried; ‘It’s eh..actually rather normal to wear slightly too small shoes here - in fact it’s the reason why you fold the back of the shoe flat beneath the soles of your feet.’

It was obvious that this wasn’t the desired answer.  

With one angry snarl of Victoria, Naomi’s words were quick to die on the tip of her tongue, her lips curling in an apologetic smile at the salesman, the man quickly shrugging before he turned to look for some different shoes that would appease the queen of drama.

‘Pff..it’s not like you know shit about fashion.’ Victoria muttered begrudgingly, looking away from Naomi in annoyance. It was then Naomi decided it was best to just flee the scene, her feet shuffling backwards until she bumped into one large chest.

Henry’s chest.

‘Woops..sorry.’ Naomi swallowed, quickly stepping aside and creating some socially appropriate distance between the two of them - quite a challenge as the little shop was packed from top to bottom with those “cute little curly shoes”, the racks squeezed so tight together that you could barely walk through the small isles, Henry and his wide chest having to actually side-shuffle to move through.

‘No..no problem.’ Henry muttered, quickly eyeing what Victoria was up to over Naomi’s shoulder. And thankfully, she had now occupied herself with her smartphone as she waited for the sales vendor to get back with a new batch of shoes. Naomi followed his gaze and quietly whispered; “Well, looks like prince charming found himself a Cinderella of sorts.’

‘Ha.-ha.’ He said unamused, then rolled his eyes at her, lips curling in a smile. Naomi chuckled.

Then Henry used the moment to study Naomi, her blond hair half-hidden behind a royal blue head wrap - it looked pretty on her. Subdued, but pretty, her face without make-up and her outfit a simple unwashed linen shirt and ankle length skirt. Like..

‘Cinderella? Hmm..I think there’s only one Cinderella here..and Victoria..is definitely not the one.” He smiled, making Naomi blush ever so becomingly as she quickly turned to meticulously study a stand with leather bags.

Pfft..what the hell was he talking about. She was hardly a princess, right?  

Looking back at him through the corner of her eyes she saw him still looking at her, an appreciative smile ghosting his lips.

Right?!

[ Carcassonne, France, a year ago ]

‘WOA..did you hear that?’ Naomi looked nervously over her shoulder, the single street lantern behind them casting long, ominous shadows over the cobble-stoned alleyway. Almost without noticing herself she stepped closer to Henry, the large bear of a man right in step as they walked back to the hotel after a rather late dinner in the medieval old town centre.

Narrow alleyways, uneven cobble-stoned roads, cute little squares. The old fortified city had made for a nice sightseeing trip as they drove with Henry and his team down for a week-long team excursion in the Pyrenees mountains. The rest of the group had taken a cab, but with there being no place left, Henry had been quick to just wave them off, offering to walk to the hotel together as Naomi knew the way and “he would keep her safe”.

Something she had thought quite ridiculous, wishing to call another cab, but Henry had been adamant.

What he didn’t know was that she was in fact just really quite afraid of the dark, and so, with every passing cat or gust of wind, she’d hold her breath, stepping closer to Henry in hope he would in fact protect her if the need arose.

And Henry? Oh, he loved every minute of it.

‘Don’t worry.’ Henry smiled, reaching out his hand and folding it around hers.

Amicably, but spark-inducing anyways. Naomi chewed on her lip as she felt the warmth of his palm ooze into her skin, the simple touch calming her nerves like nothing quite could.

‘I’ll gladly be your knight in shining armour!’ He beamed, winking at her, to which the last of her nerves finally faltered, making way for a tinkling little laugh. ‘Oh...OH!’ Naomi exclaimed, then flailed her free hand extremely dramatically before her face, acting all tender and maidenlike, ready to swoon right in his arms. ‘OH it’s so SO dark! And scary! And..’ They both break out laughing, Henry squeezing her hand and pulling her closer to his chest.

And she let him.

Henry couldn’t be happier, the little moment being just what he had hoped for. Not only having the time alone with Naomi, but also seeing her burst out of her neatly built up walls. Ever the professional, it was hard to get her to join in such banter like they had right now. And he liked every second of it, his feet trying to slow their pace just so it would last a little while longer.

It was unfortunately also the only moment that holiday during which she allowed him to come anywhere near that close to her, further tempering any hope he held to finally grasp her attention.

Did she not feel what he felt? Did she not ..enjoy..being around him, like he enjoyed being around her?

Hmmm...France. It seemed so long ago.

The reality of Henry’s life was quite different now as they once more walked through a dark alleyway. Though this time with Victoria next to him.

No hands being held, though conversation warm and surprisingly pleasant between him and Victoria - she seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps, just maybe, he was simply comparing her too much to others. To Naomi. Victoria was Victoria. He had to give her a chance.

After a little evening stroll they had arrived at a cute restaurant where they’d be having dinner, Naomi having walked ahead to explain in the best of her capabilities that they wished to get a table out of view - so fans wouldn’t disturb Henry during dinner.

Feeling eager to recapture that memory of France, which he had kept so close to his heart, he reached out a hand to Victoria, her face pulling into one of near agony as she quickly swatted it away.

‘It’s too freaking hot Hen.’ She said with exasperation - as if he was stupid for even thinking about touching her - her eyes moving back to Naomi as she and the waiter seemed to come to an agreement, a simple “come-hither” wave of Naomi’s hand gesturing them to join her.

Well. So much for hoping things were okay now. Was it..urgh..was it bad to wish that Victoria would take a cab home, so he and Naomi could..walk back to the hotel again?

--

It was a good question to ask why in the hell’s name he had stayed with her. Victoria. Every time he decided to give it another shot, appreciate the little moments that were good, he was disappointed even more.

Sitting now, alone, on the edge of the hotel bed, it was probably the reason why he didn’t feel any disappointment. Her clothes gone and the hotel room void of anything other than the furniture and the never-ending heat that lingered between these walls, Henry couldn’t help but feel a slight relief. Slowly he let his eyes wander across the room, for the first time truly appreciating what was there.

It was large and with oriental luxury in abundance, a prettily mosaic tiled bath sunken in the middle of the room, heavy dark blue drapes hung around it and candles at the ready might the need for something romantic arise.

Not that such a thing had happened with Victoria. Not in quite a few weeks..or actually months by this point.  

It was always either too hot, too humid, or she had a headache, was tired or just got her period. Excuses, excuses, Henry realised, as he saw her eyes glimpse a touch too often at other men. Rich men. Her laugh and banter directed at those men whenever she could - thinking he didn’t see.

And now she was gone. She had broken up with him, again, though from the definity of her actually leaving, this was probably truly foregood.

Henry could only guess where she was now. With the creepy old Italian, with whom she had been flirting for over a week now? Or perhaps that sjeik that had been a bit too obvious in his curiosity for her as they made a visit to his estate?

Henry felt bad. Bad for how all this had come to play out, as well as that he simply couldn’t bring himself to care for Victoria at this point. He had made sure there was a cab waiting for her, he had apologised for whatever tiny little misstep he might have taken, in hope to salvage the situation, though knowing full well that neither one of them truly wanted that. Not Victoria, but also not he.

He just didn’t like goodbyes. And Victoria had used his tenderness, abused his tenderness, to the extent that he wasn’t even sure if relationships were a good idea for him anyways. He had wasted most of his life on women that may have stolen his heart, but made him insane in the process. Either they wanted his fame, his money..pfft..even just the sex. But never truly, just..him.

*BZZT BZZZT*

Naomi: “Henry! Are you okay? I received the notification that Victoria has just checked out of the hotel. If you need some time, don’t feel pressured to answer. I just want to know you are safe and taken care of. If you need anything, I’m a call away. Naomi.”

Well, alright, at least there was at least someone looking out for him.

He sighed, a smile brushing across his lips as he reached out for his phone that lay forlorn next to him.

Naomi.

Where some hotels had nice, proper running air conditioning, this cooling system seemed to run on the coil of the earth, the walls near sweating with the humidity that hung in the air like a thick, heavy blanket. Naomi wiped her forehead as she continued to fold her clothes, neatly packing her suitcase so they could leave next thing in the morning - that was, if Henry would be ready to.

Just a few hours ago she had walked past the reception desk to inquire at what hour they could check out, only to hear that one of the guests had already done so. Victoria Koberlach. Left without a trace, without a message or goodbye.

And honestly, that wasn’t so much of a surprise. Victoria hadn’t really come across as a person who cared about the well-being of others. Especially if there wasn’t something there for her to gain. She was the most charming woman from a far, but once you got close you could see the fine lines between her brows from the many times the furrowed them, angry pouting and stomping her foot to get her way.

The princess had left the building.

Sighing quietly, she zipped open the inner pocket of her suitcase, wishing to slip in her toiletry bag when something seemed to obstruct it. Something small. With hesitant fingers she reached inside, only to find an old trinket there. And not just any trinket.

That darn fucking ring.

In the low light of the few lights that lit her room, the hour getting quite late, the golden band with the heart shaped cut diamond shone like one of the treasures from Ali Baba. Pretty, but deceiving. Not only was it absolutely not her style - too big and too loud -, it also carried with it the memories of her ex-husband.    

Just like Victoria, he had been a handsome, charming man from a distance. And Naomi had fallen hard for him. So hard that her sweet 22-year-old ass had barely noticed when his caring, authoritative figure was not galant and kind, but overbearing and manipulative.

Before she knew it she barely dared to open her mouth to express her thoughts and feelings, his head already shaking as he laughed it off. ‘Oh you women.’ Which he’d then follow up with a tap to her ass or a squeeze of her cheek. He would be the one to tell what they’d be eating at a restaurant. He’d be the one telling her she looked tired and perhaps should let down her hair so it looked better with that dress he bought her. He would tell her she just needed some sleep, when she was feeling emotional or insecure.

Not in the five years they had been together, had he once truly asked her how she truly felt. Never did he ask about what was going on in her mind. She thought this was what love was. Someone who took care of you to the point you didn’t have to think or feel anymore. You just had to ..get pregnant, be a mom, raise that family and be the good, sweet wife. Before she knew it that gaudy ring was on her finger and she made herself believe that this was happiness.

But it wasn’t. It was a prison. And as they were shopping for a bigger house and she stood there in those rooms that were ready for their off-spring, she decided that she just couldn’t do it. She went on a trip with a friend to clear her thoughts, only to find that not only did she no longer wish to be with that overbearing, manipulative husband of hers.

She wanted to truly be free.

And here she was. A private travel guide, following her life long dream or travelling for her job. Setting out her own path.

Love, had to be side-tracked. It only caused her pain.

Men, in fact. Needed to be side-tracked. Because not ever did she want to sink down in that hell hole again. Not ever again would she let herself make the same stupid mistakes.

*BZZ BZZ*

Henry is calling.

‘Hey’ She answered, quickly letting the ring slip back in its initial hiding spot.

‘Hi..eh..I saw your message.’

‘Hey..yea..do you need anything? Can I..?’

‘Eh..could you maybe come over? To my room?’

A soft shuffling of feet and zippers being zipped told Naomi that Henry was indeed in the room, her head peeking around the door that had been intentionally left unlocked and cracked open. What she saw was probably one of the prettiest sights she had yet to lay her eyes upon.

The room was mutely lit, small speckles of light dancing over the ceiling, large drapes hiding most of the room from sight, Henry on the right near a large bed, folding his clothes just like she had done moments earlier. Engrossed with his task, he hadn’t noticed her presence just yet. He looked..okay..she guessed. Not distressed, panicked, angry or sad. Just..normal.

Closing the door behind her, stepping further into the room, the soft click of the heavy lock finally made him look up, big blue eyes meeting hers.

So...now what? She wasn’t sure what to say or do.

What do you do after someone just left you? What do you want, need? What did..Henry..need? She wasn’t sure, his eyes surprisingly calm, his lips curling up in a warm smile. ‘Hi.’ He greeted, standing back up and turning towards her.

Was this just him acting like nothing was amiss, whilst his whole world was in fact crumbling? After all, he was an actor..

‘Are you..are you okay?’ Naomi asked carefully, quickly looking around her now she got a better impression of the room, her eyes almost inadvertently looking for any items Victoria may have left behind. Any sign of that she may return. But there was nothing of the sort.

She really was gone.

Henry smiled again and shook his head. ‘It’s..hmm..I think this had to happen for a very, very long time. It’s..good. Yes. Good.’

‘Okay then. So..’ Naomi quirked her head, trying to see if he was lying or hiding the truth, but not finding even a flicker of doubt in his gentle eyes. Clearing her throat she looked back into the room, her feet stepping just a meter ahead, taking in what was hiding behind those curious heavy blue drapes. A bath. Ha..of course. A bathtub in the middle of the room. Why not.

Her lips curled up in a half amused smile as she felt Henry’s presence come nearer, his eyes following her gaze.

‘Nice bath, for sure. Though the couches aren’t great. I’ve..unfortunately.. spent plenty of hours there.’ Henry grinned, pointing at a little sitting nook in the far back, making Naomi grimace at the thought that Victoria had probably made him sleep on the freaking couch.

‘She really was a treasure, wasn’t she?’ Naomi said, looking back at him and finding an amused smile on his lips, making her feel less concerned for him. He looked truly relieved. Their eyes met, bodies now far closer together, a mere meter or so left in between them. He swallowed and squared his shoulders, the already humid air feeling even more tense all of a sudden.

‘Are.. you okay, though?’ He asked, quite unexpectedly, his eyes not missing the slightly reddened eyes that Naomi sported.

‘Me? Yea...I eh..’ She frowned and suddenly felt the need to turn away from him, turn away before he’d come bursting right through the meticulously built walls around her heart. Gosh that darn ring. She should have gotten rid of it the moment she had gotten rid of her ex-husband. Sniffling her nose she quickly turned on her heel, deciding to act as if she was to inspect the bed now.

Henry frowned and followed Naomi with his gaze, seeing her shoulders stiffen as she moved towards the bed, her hand flicking over her cheek as if to wipe off some sweat - though obviously it wasn’t sweat that was leaking from her eye.

‘Is this the moment where you’re going to tell me that it’s common in Caïro for local rain showers to make their apparition indoors?’ He asked, trying to somewhat lighten the mood. Naomi laughed and turned back around, watching him with watery eyes.

Just like that her walls crumbled like they had never even existed.

‘W-w...noo. Henry. Oh come on.” She sniffled, quickly brushing away her tears. ‘It’s…’ She shrugged. ‘UGH..it’s just so fucking stupid. I was thinking about this ex of mine. And..pff..you know what, it doesn’t matter. Victoria just left and now your travel guide is in tears in your room? Ha..quite a show, aren’t we women?’

She turned back to face the bed and took a calming breath, eyes roaming over the soft Egyptian cotton sheets - she really should bring some of those sheets home -, before halting on the sight of Henry’s open suitcase. Without meaning to, her eyes fell down on a pack of condoms. Unused condoms. The box still wrapped in its original plastic wrap.  

Well. At least they both didn’t get laid this holiday.

‘From the looks of it we men don’t fair much better..’ Henry said carefully, watching Naomi’s shoulders slowly release their tension as she looked over his bed..over his suitcase..over..oh..dammit..the condoms! He forgot to hide those condoms.

Naomi didn’t really seemed to be fazed by it. ‘I’m sorry I left you like that..’ Naomi said gently, looking back at him, her eyes suddenly holding a certain fierceness. ‘That wasn’t..’ She took another deep breath. ‘That’s wasn’t right of me to do. You didn’t deserve that..’ She blinked, feeling the scorching heat of this arabian night suddenly catching up with her.

‘R..rome you mean?’ He stepped a little closer, eyes flicking for the slightest second to her lips, the air thickening with every excited beat of their fluttering hearts.

‘Yea.’

Did time just come to a halt?

‘Ugh this is silly. Do you want to talk about it?’ She asked, knowing full well that neither of them truly wanted to talk. The tension in the air was sparking so delightfully - just like it had that night - that it didn’t take an evil genius to decipher what was going on here. What was going on between them.

‘I mean if you want to.’ He tried.

‘Me? Ha..’ She breathed, blinking slowly as her body almost automatically pulled towards him, her tears long dried, the sweat beading on her heated body but an afterthought. Tonight it wasn’t too hot, too humid and nobody suffered from headaches, or periods or tiredness.

Tonight had been postponed for years now. And in this slight slip of time, where both their guards were down and nobody else was there to disturb, it felt almost natural to smile at one another, to step closer, to forget for just a moment that this was very..very..

Unprofessional.

Naomi stiffened again as Henry traced a careful finger over the back of her hand, wishing to grasp it but noticing the near immediate flinch that rushed through her body.

‘Oh this is very unprofessional of me. I’m so..so..sorr-’ - ‘Ninny.’ Henry stopped her rambling.

She blinked. ‘What did you just ..call me?’

‘Ninny.’ He smiled. A nickname. Her nickname. She blinked again, her body stepping back, needing to sit down for a moment, her legs hitting the edge of the bed as she slumped down on those ridiculously nice, soft sheets.

DARN this. What the hell was going on with her. Him?! THEM?!

‘Ninny..huh..you’re going to call me by my nickname now, hmm?’ - ‘May I not?’ He said carefully, a smile tugging at his lips. She looked up, her initial shock making place for a slightly amused grin.

‘Pff haha..oh gods Henry. Of course you may. You’re one of my best clie…-’ Her words died on her tongue once more as he moved to sit down besides her as well, his presence causing that electricity to spark in every cell of her body. And truly, Naomi was not a shy person at all. She haggled with corrupt police officers, she could tell aggressive street salesmen to piss off without a blink of the eye, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to back down from anyone who dared to speak up against her.

Not after she left her husband. She took care of herself now.

And yet...Here she was, flustered and giddy, her heart beating loudly in her chest and her whole body so aware of how close he was to her, how good he smelled.

‘Hi.’ She smiled. ‘Hi.’ Henry chuckled, turning his body slightly towards her, knees touching hers. ‘I can call you Naomi too, if you like that better.’ He said, averting his eyes from her curious gaze, his ocean blues looking back out into the room.

‘You called me Ninny on that night in Rome.’

‘I did.’

‘So I guess you’ve forgiven me for that bit of my unprofessional behavior?’ She looked back at Henry, having collected herself again. It was in the end so very comfortable talking to Henry, being with Henry. He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit by the memory of what had happened between them then.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by what was happening between them..now.

‘I think I was actually the one who made the first move there..’ Henry shrugged, teasingly looking back at her.

‘Ho..oh no you didn’t.’ She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. ‘If I remember correctly you wished to order room service at like 2AM at night. And it took so long that I practically stole that phone from your hand...and THEN we..’

He kissed her.

The dance they had avoided for so long now was danced once more. Him, her, a flurry of arms and legs tangling into one another, the first move quickly followed by a cascade of new ones. Caressing finger tips, giddy laughter, tentative pecks on the lips, hands growing bolder, roaming, claiming, until every piece of clothing only seemed to have become an obstruction.

Shakily breathing Naomi started to tug on the white shirt Henry was wearing - for once not a blue shirt, huh? -, his lips curling in an enbolding smile, hands reaching down to help her strip him down to his bare chested glory.

‘Ha..’ She breathed, a hand immediately reaching down for his pecs, abs. He was bigger now. Bigger than the last time.

‘I can shave it if you want.’ He grinned, feeling her finger tips move through his patch of chest hair.

‘What?! No..no. absolutely no freaking way. It’s..’ She started to slowly nod her head. ‘..nice.’

He chuckled, eyes interlocking with hers as his fingertips in turn moved to her shirt, the cotton slightly sticking to her heated skin.

Not that he cared.

His eyes got more greedy, eating up every inch of skin as he pulled up the material, her breath choking in her tight chest as she reached up her arms so he could remove the obstructing piece of fabric altogether.

With tender fingers he traced the valley between her breasts, her dark blue bra thankfully semi-sexy - it wasn’t laundry day.

‘Want me to shave?’ She teased back, making him chuckle even louder.

‘No..no. Absolutely no…’ He leaned in closer, smiling against her lips. ‘..freaking..way.’ He claimed her mouth again, eager tongue begging for entrance as his hand became bolder, moving over the hills of her bosom, soft flesh hidden beneath a lacy harness.

‘Take it off.’ Naomi breathed, feeling equally annoyed with the thing, her throat sighing in great relief when Henry didn’t need to be told twice, his other hand eagerly reaching back and unclasping it with a flick of his fingers. Practised fingers.

‘I fucking missed Rome.’ Henry muttered, dipping his head down to sniff a long stripe up her swan-like neck.

‘Did you now?’

‘Why else did you think I hired you?’ He smirked, pulling back ever so slightly.

‘And bring the girlfriend just in case?’

FUCK..she should NOT have said that. Naomi gasped quietly, biting her lip as Henry raised an eyebrow.

‘Ouch.’ He chuckled.

‘Oh gods..I should not have said that.’ Naomi uttered.

‘Ninny. Please. You are more than allowed to make such a comment. I mean. Yes. I brought along a woman I already knew, full well, would not be in my life for much longer. Like all those women before her.’ He sighed, his smile becoming slightly more watery.

He had been hurt a lot of times.

‘I’m just terrible at choosing a woman who is right for me.’

Naomi sighed and shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. ‘And I AM the right woman for you, hmm?’ She chuckled.

‘Oh well..I guess I have to admit that I did in fact have a little crush on you. And…’ He raised his shoulders slightly.

‘What?’

‘The stretching session didn’t help. Much.’

‘Ah! You! Cheeky monkey!’

‘Hahaha..more like a cheeky bear, right?’ He winked, using the moment to push Naomi’s back flat on the bed, his body moving on top of hers, arms and legs caging her beneath him.

‘I did call you Bear, huh?’

‘Yea..’

‘Ninny and the Bear.’

‘Quite romantic..’ Henry smiled, his fangs shining in the low light as he looked down upon Naomi, her blond locks fanned prettily around her head. ‘..oh I could actually light some candles..talking romantic.’ He sat up slightly, but was immediately pulled back, head now dipping down as Naomi eagerly tugged on his curly locks.

‘Henry. Another time, okay? Please..just…’ She bit her lip.

‘What’s that?’ He teased.

‘You know what.’

‘Do I now?’

‘UGH.’ She rolled her eyes and tried to pull him down. Unsuccessfully so, because he was too strong, his pecs flexing ever so slightly as he tightened his arms to stay on all fours above her. ‘..just fuck me already. Leave the romance for later..please?’

Henry lifted a teasing eyebrow, but was not going to decline such an invitation, his lips quick to press back down on hers.

In mere seconds the hot arabian night brought with it a new memory that was written in the soft embrace of egyptian cotton. Bodies colliding, dancing, writhing, those condoms finally unpacked, as was their emotional baggage after evading feelings and needs at either end of their finger tips for so long.

‘Henry, stop stalling.’ Naomi growled, feeling his eyes on her as she lay face first, ass up on the bed.

‘Are you in a hurry, milady?’ He purred, slowly crawling on top of her, his weight pressing her down further in the mattress, in the silky soft sheets. ‘Mmpfff..no..it’s just..a few years of waiting..you know.’

‘Ah..’ He breathed with a chuckle, playfully nibbling on the shell of her ear. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting then.’

And with that said, he finally, finally claimed what was his, their mingled moans echoing off the sweating walls, the lights dancing along with their body song as he pressed on, in.

‘Oh bear.’ Naomi growned, her aching walls finally soothed.

It may have been years of waiting, but every second had been worth the way he stretched her out, the way he fit perfectly to her body, their hands entangling and hips writhing. Rolling sharply the crescendo of his hip thrusts reminded her just why she had called him bear.

Because where her ex-husband would have been a lazy, selfish prick. Henry? Henry was a big, burly carebear, perfectly balancing between a tender lover and ruthless beast, strong beyond compare. And as he crashed into her hips, filling her ache, burning her skin with that itchy patch of hair - which he definitely shouldn’t shave -, she was happy.

--

‘What are you smiling at, huh?’ Henry stopped his hip thrusts for a moment, looking down in Naomi’s broadly smiling face, the soft London morning light trickling in, caressing the feather light cotton sheets beneath her blond locks.

‘Mmm..nothing. Just thinking about how much I love these sheets.’ She teased, making him quirk an eyebrow, hip jerking in her to punish her for her little tease, her lips “o”-ing with a little gasp. ‘The sheets? Really?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She snickered, feeling him dip down and bite down on the tender skin of her neck, tickling her with his slightly out-grown week old beard. She chuckled, arms and legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer to her so she could whisper in his ear.

‘Six-hundred thread count, extra long fibres, and the more you use them..the ..HAHAHAH..no..the better..HENRY STOP..HAHAHAH. The better they feel.’

‘Mrrrwpfff.’ Henry growled biting down on her laughing lips, his teeth catching her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, their mouths entangling in a sensual slow dance, their hips quite naturally following in a slow, erotic rut.

‘Very good sheets.’ Naomi whispered, causing Henry to gasp in unbelief, his chest thundering with an even louder growl, his lips attacking her every reachable patch of skin, marking her, his cock making sure she’d feel him even long after this little morning session was over.

Naomi gasped and swooned beneath her bear’s administrations, her lips parted and her brow slightly sweaty. Just like that night. And many nights after that night. And mornings? Mornings too. And afternoons? Oh, you get the jest..

She smiled, fingers tangling through Henry’s curls as his lips hesitated, hovering above hers, his deep blue eyes searching hers.

‘Then again..’ She sighed, smiling. ‘..the sheets just can’t compare..to you.’ Her little confession made him smile, honestly, his life now calm and easy-going, their love a tale that was told with luxurious kisses, wrapped in the silkiest of Egyptian, 600-thread count cotton sheets.

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond​ @maroonmolly​

[girlofthefandom]

Tales from the smp thoughts and random quotes I enjoy (essentially delayed live blogging) Part 1

I love all these npcs already

“Hurry up camera man!”

Yes! Gladiators! I remember seeing someone say that idea

Just some joes

Porkeous the 7th. Oh no I can see the fan girls now.

Yes! Punch em off!!

“Yeah same.”

“That’s good cause I don’t” “we build a new colosseum every time”

I can’t want to see the names of everyone’s characters. Especially Philz’

Stairs everyone’s worst enemy

Tubbo... sweet child

She disappeared!! Witch craft! Burn the witch!

Tubbo=Jacky (forced off streets)

Fundy=Laggius Maximus (I love this name so much with the spinning)

Please don’t kill both the boys in this fight. But also I’m cheating for Laggius.

Subbin Empire? Subbin to Technoblade!

Go Laggius! This is not going to go well... this is really not going to go well...

No I refuse to root for Jacky. I like Laggius the bit will be funnier later.

I want to know what happened to the last camera guy! Let us know!

Vertical feeling! Heaven forbid! Also look at them insulting TikTok

I love the background music. Feels magical.

A lovely jump

Surprises... well that’s ominous. And wait the first one!

Tower! Towers are always good.

We got our popcorn. Ready to watch this fight.

Laggius is... coming... maybe...

GG Jacky... he hasn’t won yet but gg.

Lava!!!! Hooray! Love us some good lava

Poor Laggius... he was burning too early

And Laggius is still lagging

Why isn’t Jacky burning?? He won???

Knocked unconscious in the lava. What is this a Pokémon game?

GG Jacky.

Nobody needs to know the way around here.

“Almost like a video game” just break that fourth wall right down

Keeps looking at sapnaps character and talking about strong. How sweet. We love some fiancé’s.

Please don’t throw Laggius to the wolves

Jack Manifold = Bartholomew

Phil having to translate. I love it.

Watson = Phil

Good pun. Very good pun.

Nobody likes Punz. Gosh everyone’s so mean

We love Watson. Let’s go Watson.

Bartholomew with the drugs and Watson.

Crazy drunk man with fire resistance

I agree with Watson why did we come to this cousin.

Sapnap in a hole

Also I love the drinking age being 3

Let’s go Watson!!!

Where are my Pom poms? I’ve got a Watson to cheer for.

Execute those architects.

And their first Borns.

Watson! Watson! Watson!

“Welcome to the land of the living Bartholomew.”

I love the slow fight.

Come on Watson shoot em!

Oh no. Oh no. Come on Watson. You’re so close!

Noooooooooo.

Why Bartholomew???? I can’t spell that! I’ve been relying on autocorrect this whole time.

Watson would be so much easier to spell.

Still must go down the stairs.

Speed running life. That’s what I do.

No one dies. Just take them to nurse joy.

Poor Punz being so bullied

Punz=Levi

Levi? Really? Oh well I like the name. He won’t like but I like the name.

Also why does Levi have such a full backstory.

Has weapon hands with a horrible southern accent. I love it.

“Hmmm”

Who is Ol’ Sap?

Sapnap = John

And no creativity apparently.

Laggius had the best name for a gladiator. All the others are too boring.

Why are we beating up BBH

Hannah=Genevieve

Genevieve! I can spell that thanks to old Barbie movies!!

Go Genevieve! Trained her life! I love this woman!

Mostly women upstairs. I love it our fandom is so biased.

“Are you sure about that?”

Darlin? Really that’s not the right word.

Go Genevieve! I probably shouldn’t cheer for her since everyone I’ve cheered for has lost.

But still GO GENEVIEVE!!

Our empire is millions in dept

Let’s step up the battle! Let’s gooooo

“Ayyyyy!!!”

Go Genevieve! Levi hush up with your gills.

Jump in! Splish Splash!

Wait why are we listening to Mario Kart music? Wait I recognize this song.

Go Genevieve!!

YES FINALLY! I PICKED THE WINNER!

Levi hush. You done lost messed up southern boi.

Go Genevieve! I can actually spell your name!

I straight forgot Porkeous the 7ths name for a second and had to check my notes.

Stairs. Woop de doo.

“Pick the most handsome” wow

Ol’ Sap = John as I remember. And he’s sticking with it. Bold man sticking with it.

Ranboo = Ran

Just Ran and it’s just the enderman part of the skin. Haha. Very funny.

BBH = Edward

He went from strange voice to normal(ish) voice

I don’t like Edwards speech pattern. At the very least. Yucky.

John v. Edward letsa go

Go John!

Wait we renaming? This is going to get confusing.

Handsome. Can you two quit flirting (not really keeping going)

Alrighty then Ugly v. Edward

Go Ugly! (Sentence I never expected to type)

The seat thing

And saying king Julien. Sigh.

Just BRB real quick.

Thinking about buying things. Oh he meant ad.

Alright Ad 1/3 let’s go.

No I can’t even open chat to watch them instead of the ad. Boooo.

2/3 let’s get this done!

3/3

Snickers just loading for forever

Alrighty we survived.

And a crown really? Just wants his normal skin back.

Let’s go Ugly!

Bo-at battle! Let’s go!

Please don’t shoot Ugly.

Go Ugly!

“King Are you ok!”

I still hate Edwards speech pattern so much

Please. Just pretend to have a fair fight.

The rabbits???? Cant rabbits swim?

Hooray rabbits! I don’t what purpose they serve but I love them.

Edward or Edwardo? Did I miss something?

Ok it seems both.

Shooting a rabbit? Disowner on you disowner on your cow.

Killing pets reference? The references are so good.

YES UGLY!!!! Thank heavens!

I’m 2/4 for choosing the winner.

I hope ugly keeps on winning

“Colosseum Remote Control”

3 in 1 battle how did they not plan correctly for an even number

Nerds hold cameras you heard it here folks

I don’t want to hear deeper for some of these stories. All I want to see is Genevieves further story. She seems deep.

“Massive pigs growling at us. No offense”

Watson trying to clean the table.

We bringing in the Harmonika.

Harmonika fits the moment.

Yes name him handsome! Haha

Grievous is how I’m spelling that stupid sounding name. But it’s better than John and ugly.

I can’t get over the name Ran.

BE GONE LEVI!

I love Watson having to take care of Bartholomew. Translating for him and waking him up.

Phil just can’t resist playing the dad.

No no stopping just fighting.

Also I love Watson saying break it up. I wish Watson had won.

Genevieve sounds like such a lovely lady and she deserves to win.

As much as I love Grevious I want Genevieve to win.

Sapnap=Grevious good gracious this is hard to follow.

Ran is cool. I’m going to kill over listening to them just saying Ran.

Complicated backstory. Found the main character.

Ran is cool.

Wait this place is going down??? Pardon me???

Three person fight is...

Grevious v. Ran v. Bartholomew

Genevieve v. Jacky

Puns! Let’s go! And of course Levi likes Puns.

Everyone is so mean.

GO GENEVIEVE!

And Watson just babysitting Bartholomew

I’m going to get good at spelling Bartholomew. Because I was horrible at it before.

Empire of women!

Cages=Lava

“Mmm what smells good”

Battle star!!

“Boing Boing Boing”

Water dome?

Water Dome in Lava?

Well he tried zombies/bunnies

Lava in the water sphere?

Only fight at top of fishbowl got it.

GO GENEVIEVE!

Come on girl you’ve got this!

No Genevieve babe please don’t lose.

“The boats going down.” “It’s yelling timber.” “Like that song that hasn’t been made yet.”

Hurry up and die. I love it.

NO GENEVIEVE!!!!!

Do do do do

That was a longer fight. But pretty good.

To the cellars! Not to the cellars!

No! The boat is gone!

That was close.

This feels like a funky Pokémon game.

Jacky is a finalist! Good for him. I’m not cheering for him but good for him.

TRIANGLE FORMATION

Who’s missing? Oh wait it’s Bartholomew

“Intense prison cosmetic surgery”

Rabbits! We love rabbits.

Oh no faceplant mode!

What is even happening?!?!

Thinking creatively.

Just don’t die. What a game.

Cant wait to watch the thinking creatively animatic.

In a boat to avoid floating.

Attack!

Go Ran!

Oh we’re lagging.

Disable the dive mode!

The zombies are a bit much. Oh everyone’s actually fighting.

Rats why weren’t there baby zombies when Watson was going. They even made a Phil reference.

No treaties.

Go Ran! Keep on running away.

I love Ran.

GO RAN! I love Grevious. But GO RAN

Faster Zombies. Zombies go zoom.

Oh Grevious won.

Wait why does Ran have grass and why do they see him again.

Placing more dirt to clean old dirt.

Poor Grevious.

I feel sorry for him now.

Stand on da dirt.

Put the rabbits in the cages!!!!

I cheer for Grevious.

And yes there are many a loser.

Everything is so spicy. As in lava is there.

You can’t kick your fiancé’s future descendent out of the gang.

A full inventory

Watson with the backup button!

Seriously all he can do is be a dad.

OH BOY LAGGIOUS IS BACK!

And he’s here for the picture.

And Watson is (still) bullying him!

Bartholomew is pure trouble.

Ooops. The root beer was on the brain.

Watson! Come get your drunk!

Oh wait he actually did! I love this so much.

Petition for more Phil in Tales.

Only Genevieve voting for Jacky

Some people refusing to vote.

I’m sorry who asked if Laggius is ok.

He is always (not) ok

He is fine. See.

I love Laggius’ character the most.

Go winners!

Reformed kinda. If that doesn’t sum up the whole of the smp.

All the grass in the cage.

And Laggius being his slow self.

Nothing v. General

I love how it went from King to Emperor to King

And there is Laggius.

I don’t know how anyone else is spelling Laggius but I like this way and refuse to edit it if it actually spelled different.

Oh we’re getting more ads.

1/3 let’s go

[bleedinghearthalstead]

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 10, woop woop! SWAT!AU version of Chicago Med 2x20 Generation Gap. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

They walk through the front yard with the white and green picket fence and straight into the white and green house, Jay not even bothering to knock, and wow, if Hailey didn't know that Jay was a White Sox fan before, she'd know it now... or at least know where he got it from. She looks around the place and there's memorabilia everywhere – a White Sox wall clock, a White Sox jersey framed on the wall, baseball caps, bobble heads, there's actually a game on the TV...

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

"Pop." Jay takes her hand and pulls her to his side to where he's standing in front of his father who is sitting in a recliner. "This is Hailey," he pauses and clears his throat while she squeezes his hand, "my fiancée."

Patrick Halstead laughs. Hailey doesn't know what kind of reaction she expected, not that she thought that she'd receive a warm welcome, but it still kind of hurts, and if not for her sake, then for Jay's. They've shared some of their experiences growing up and she knows that Jay and his father don't have much of a relationship – Jay has barely spoken to him since he joined the Army and even less after his mother died, just as she doesn't have any contact with her father except for when her mother isn't fast enough to be the first to pick up the phone. But how the man in front of her can manage to look down at them from his position sitting down is still unbelievable to her. It all feels oddly familiar though. She glances at Jay out of the corner of her eye and she can see the muscle in his jaw twitching and the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Yeah, my fiancée," Jay huffs. "What's so funny about that?"

The older man wheezes while he is still laughing. "Didn't think you'd ever have the balls to-" When Pat spots the diamond ring on Hailey's left hand, he loses his train of thought.

Hailey notices him staring at her hand and instinctively crosses her arms, hiding the ring from view, although she doesn't really know why she does it. Well no, she does know why. She immediately knew that he recognized the ring, hell, he must have been the one to buy it and he'd seen it on another woman's hand for over twenty years, but while Hailey is still getting used to wearing the ring, she is already extremely possessive of it. It's hers, a symbol of Jay's love.

Pat frowns at the couple, unsure of himself all of a sudden. He hasn't seen that ring in years, over a decade really, and it's bringing back all kinds of feelings that he definitely doesn't want to deal with. He settles on disdain and turns back to his son. "Again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Again," Jay parrots and pointedly stares at Pat. "Will wanted me to check on you. He said you didn't sound so good when you talked on the phone."

Hailey and Jay had been in the middle of the maze that is an IKEA store looking for a new coffee table when Jay's phone had started buzzing insistently. He'd declined his brother's calls twice before he picked up on the third time. They'd had a ten minute discussion about whether Jay really (really?) needed to go over to their Dad's house while Jay was lounging on one of the display beds until he'd reluctantly agreed.

And Jay has to hold back rolling his eyes because Will was right. He takes a closer look at his father – he is pale except for his red cheeks, there's a sheen of sweat on his skin and he's breathing heavily, gasping almost, although he is reclined in his chair and was probably doing nothing except for sitting there and watching TV.

"As I said to your brother," Pat rasps, "I don't need this, I'm fine."

His son scoffs. "Are you kidding me? You can barely talk!" Pat only grunts at him and Jay sighs. "Come on, we're taking you to Med."

"Like hell you will, it's just a waste of a trip," the older man grumps.

"Dad, come on. Let Will have a look at you."

"What, so I can take medical advice from someone who wet the bed until he was nine?" Hailey's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Jay groans at the jab at his older brother who isn't even there.

"Stop being so stubborn, you old pri-"

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey interjects before Jay can finish his sentence with an insult, "you're obviously having a lot of trouble breathing, why don't you let us take you to the hospital?"

The older man glares at Hailey. "And now I have to listen to some ditzy blonde-"

"Hey!" Jay snaps at his father.

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey tries again, this time more firmly, "either you let us take you or I might have to call in an emergency and have an ambulance roll up." She takes out her police radio and stares him down, fiddling with the dial. "I think I heard cries for help coming from this house."

Pat stares back at the defiant young woman next to his son, waiting on her to call her bluff. One of her hands is propped up on her hip and she's added a raised eyebrow into the mix. When she doesn't budge at his glare, he huffs, "I'll be damned if I'll have neighbors see me hauled out of here in an ambulance." He pushes himself up from his seat with shaky arms and grunts with the effort. "If we're going, I'm driving."

Jay's snort is cut short when he sees his father sway as soon as he is upright. "Woah, Pop!" He grabs his father by the arm, holding him steady.

Pat groans, but tries to push his son's hand away. "I got it!"

"I'll call the ambulance." Hailey takes the man's other arm.

"No!" The older man says with more force than expected, especially given his condition, and shakes both of them off. "Just move your asses."

Pat walks or rather staggers out on his own, with Jay hovering next to him the entire way to the jeep. He helps his father into the front passenger seat and Hailey slides into the back. When Jay starts the car, he looks at his fiancée through the rearview mirror. "Can you text Will, tell him we're gonna be there in twenty?" She nods at him and starts typing a message on her phone.

* * * * *

Jay drives right up to the emergency department entrance and they are greeted by Will, a nurse and a wheelchair. Of course Pat refuses to sit in the damn thing, so both brothers guide the older man to the nearest open exam room, their father grumbling at them to leave him alone. Since Will isn't allowed to treat the elder Halstead, he's also called in Dr. Rhodes who immediately starts calling out treatments and diagnostic tools as soon as they have Pat on the exam bed.

Will turns to his brother and future sister-in-law who have stopped at the exam room door, pats Jay on the back and smiles at Hailey. "Thanks for bringing him in."

"Yeah, no problem." Jay frowns, watching their father being hooked up to oxygen and various monitors, being reminded of another time he was unable to help one of his parents. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Will checks on what is happening in the exam room. "Apical holosystolic murmur and his lungs are wet."

Jay rolls his eyes at his brother. "In English?"

"It means that his heart has been compensating for his faulty mitral valve for a very long time and now it can't keep up, so fluid is backing up into his lungs." Will grimaces. "It looks like he's having a NSTEMI – it's a type of heart attack."

When the team of doctors and nurses pushes Pat's gurney out of the room, Jay's frown deepens and he scratches the back of his head, a telltale sign that he is getting upset. Hailey takes his hand in hers and rubs his arm with her other hand.

Will starts following the gurney, but stops and turns back to his brother. "Don't worry, we can beat this. Dad needs an angiogram, I'll let you know when he's done." He gives Jay a quick one-armed hug and jogs after their father who is being wheeled towards the elevators at the end of the hallway.

Jay keeps staring after his brother until Hailey squeezes his hand. "Come on, let's go park the car somewhere it's not gonna be in the way of an actual ambulance and then we'll be right back, okay?" She gives him a soft smile and rubs his arm again. Jay just nods at her and lets her lead him back to the jeep.

* * * * *

After the non-surgical treatment failed and Pat was quickly rushed to the operating room, Will left Jay and Hailey in the waiting area and went to observe their father's surgery, but when he comes back, Hailey is waiting by herself, reading a magazine that's probably been there for a few months at least.

As soon as she sees Will, she gets up and walks up to him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, the surgery went well." He lets out a relieved breath that he didn't realize he was holding. "They fixed the mitral valve – shouldn't give him any more problems. He's still in recovery, but they'll get him to a room soon."

"That's great." Hailey gives him a hug. She pulls back and notices Will looking around the room. "Jay was called in. He said he'd be back as soon as possible, but it may take a while, you know how it goes. I can text him if you want?"

"Thanks, yeah, that'd be good."

When she sees that Will is still fidgeting, Hailey puts a hand on his arm. "You okay? When was the last time you ate something? Do you want me to get you something?"

"I'm fine," Will says, but he's still looking antsy. "I should probably head back to the house and get some of my Dad's things… but it can probably wait till Jay gets back. I don't want to leave my Dad by himself."

"I can stay with him," Hailey blurts out, but as soon as she says it, she internally panics, thinking she's overstepped. Although she and Jay are engaged now and she feels like Will and her get along pretty well, she's only met their father a few hours ago and that meeting couldn't be called friendly by a stretch.

"You sure?" Will looks hopeful though, so her decision has already been made for her.

"Yeah, I can sit with him till you get back." She raises a questioning eyebrow at Will. "He'll be out of it for while, right? From the surgery?"

Sensing Hailey's hesitation, Will chuckles and gives her an out. "You really don't have to stay, it's fine." But in that moment, his stomach growls and he gives Hailey a sheepish smile. She only gives him a pointed look. "If you're really sure… I'll be quick, I promise. I'll tell the nurses to let you know what room he's in."

She shoos him away. "Go. I know how to deal with difficult fathers." Will has half a mind to ask her what she meant by that, but figures this is neither the time nor place.

* * * * *

Hailey is reading a text from Will that he's on his way back when a hoarse voice startles her.

"How long have you two been engaged?" Hailey raises an eyebrow at the question. She feels like it deserves a sarcastic answer given his earlier reaction to the couple, but the man in the hospital bed beside her has been through major surgery so she decides to give him some leeway. Before she can answer though, Pat coughs and grunts in pain.

"Do you need me to call a nurse? Are you in pain?" She is looking around for the call button, but the elder Halstead stops her with an annoyed wave of his hand.

"No, I'm fine." And if there's one thing she's learned from meeting their father, Hailey now knows that the one personality trait commonly shared between all Halstead men is that they are stubborn as hell. Pat slowly reaches for the cup of water that's been conveniently (thankfully) left on the bedside table by the nurse that showed her to the room earlier. She helps him with the straw and takes the cup from him after he takes a couple of sips, but stops fussing as soon as Pat has settled back against the pillows. "Where are my boys?"

The way he says it, soft and somewhat disappointed that neither Will nor Jay is here, Hailey isn't sure if he meant to say it out loud like that. "Will's on his way back from the house and Jay's been called into work." She checks her phone to see if she's gotten a message from Jay in the meantime, but he still hasn't replied to her text that his father's surgery went well, but then she also knows that Jay doesn't keep his phone on him when he's out on a call.

Pat grunts in response, then motions at Hailey. "Hand me the remote, will ya?" She does and he starts zapping through the channels. "I missed the game for this."

Hailey rolls her eyes when he waves the remote at her not to block his view, but also turns to the TV and settles back in her chair, although it's almost impossible to get comfortable on the hard plastic. She watches as Pat changes channels every few seconds, going through all the channels twice before sighing and putting on an old White Sox game. She can live with that.

They watch the game in somewhat of a comfortable silence until Pat speaks up again. "So?" When the young woman frowns at him, he huffs. "You didn't answer my question."

"We only got engaged last month." Hailey can't help but blush thinking back to the day at the range and the surprise that awaited her. There's a feeling of butterflies in her stomach every time she thinks about Jay and her getting married soon and she couldn't be happier. Still, she feels like she needs to elaborate. "But we've been together for over two years now."

"So no shotgun wedding?"

Hailey laughs. "No, definitely not."

"He treat you well? That boy can be trouble, always has been."

"Trouble?" Hailey feels sudden anger flare up inside of her at the uncalled-for dig at her fiancé and any compassion she felt for the older man evaporates within seconds. "Jay served – is still serving – his country and just because he didn't do what you wanted him to do, he's trouble?"

"Don't be disappointed when he leaves you," Pat mutters, averting his eyes.

Hailey lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh I've heard all about your son being a disappointment to you. And Will too. You do realize that both of your sons have done everything they can to help you today? If it weren't for them, you might as well be dead." The blonde knows that she's being very harsh, but maybe that is what's needed to drive the point home for once. Having said her piece, she turns back to the TV and dreads having to spend another minute with the older man, but she told Will that she'd stay with him and she's not going back on her word.

"You're right," Pat says after a couple of minutes where the sound coming from the TV was the only thing that made the silence between them even remotely bearable. "They made something of their lives. They're better men than I am."

"I don't think they feel that way," she sasses, but pauses at Pat's defeated look. "But I also don't think they'd want you to feel that way either."

Will chooses that moment to appear at the door, slightly out of breath and carrying a luggage bag. "Hey guys." He looks between the two of them, dimly aware of the tension in the room. "How are you feeling, Pop?"

Pat sighs. "Like I took one on the chin."

"You kind of did." His son smirks at him.

"I'm gonna head home, leave you guys to it." Hailey stands up from her seat, her mission accomplished with Will's return. "Keep me updated, Will, yeah? Bye, Mr. Halstead."

Before she can step away from the bed, he stops her with a hand on hers and gives her a small smile. "Call me Pat."

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

Breathless

Oh goodness my first angst (still not enough angst because I'm a fluff girl). Reading angst hurts my heart, but writing this was kinda fun (thankfully it didn’t change my view on Young K/Brian). I’m sorry for the late submission to this request, I’m trying to do better.  🥺

Keep requesting/asking! Also like, reblog, follow 💕

Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, oral, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating (woops), some fluff?

Word count: about 2k

Just one more night. That’s what I keep telling myself. One more night and I’ll end it with Brian...whatever we have. Why did I let myself fall so easily? My momma taught me better than to fall back into the arms of the man who broke my heart. He broke it once, he’ll just do it again, but the sex is too good to pass up. That’s all this is, it’s just sex.

A knock on my door startles me. I adjust my garter belt that fits snug on my thigh, hidden by my silk robe.

I open the door to the suave, irrisistable, sex demon. Fuck, he’s wearing his leather jacket. His hair is perfectly brushed back, he definitely showered before coming over. That’s a first. He brought a bottle of wine? What’s the special occasion? He also has a little black box with no label. The whole ensemble is giving me assumptions. Assumptions that make me want to vomit.

“Brian”, I greet, avoiding looking at the box and wine.

“Hi, baby”, he greets with an especially low, soft voice. I welcome him in.

“For you”, he gifts me the wine.

“What’s the occasion?”, I wonder, heading to the kitchen for some glasses.

“Have you looked at the calendar?”, he chuckles. Don’t fucking tell me. Is this our anniversary for when we were dating?

“Our anniversary?”, I furrow my brows. I pop the bottle and pour about halfway of the glass. Rosé, my favorite.

“I know it’s been a while since we broke up”, Brian shrugs, accepting a glass.

“A year”, I internally scowl. I take a long drink of my wine. 

“Do you ever wish we got back together?”, he mumbles. Thank goodness I swallowed before he said that, or else I’ll be choking.

“Did you forget what happened, Brian? Or do you need a refresher?”, my skin crawls, my face showing my internal scowl. He has a thing for seeing me mad. He loves the fiery passion in my eyes. There would be a game to see how angry I could get before I would pounce him and fuck the angry out of me. I could tell tonight is going to be one of those nights.

“Enlighten me”, he encourages, taking a long sip, staring deep into my eyes. The little box sits beside me. The curiosity of that box is killing me. It could be anything.

“You love attention. Any attention. You thrive on validation, either as an artist or a person. You’re a slave to vanity. Someone calls you pretty and you want more, refusing to stop till you’re satisfied”, I slowly elaborate, keeping my composure. He finishes his wine and puts the glass on the countertop behind me. He stands in front of me, hands on the countertop, trapping me with his body. Does he think this will intimidate me? That's bold of him.

“I won’t stop till I’m satisfied?”, he purses his lip.

“Any woman who gives you the slightest bit of interest, you make it your goal to have them submit to you. Your sick game of wanting women to fall at your feet”, I continue. I finish my wine, Brian puts the glass behind me.

“You fell at my feet”, he smirks.

“Pathetic of me”, I snarl.

“You seemed to enjoy it for years”, he bites his lip. His cock is getting harder by the minute. I grab his bulge and stroke the length over his jeans. He bows his head, taking a deep breath.

“So did that whore”, I whisper in his ear.

“Tell me about her”, he breaths. I play with his tip.

“The escort you’ve been paying to fuck since we started dating? You didn’t think I would find out about your toy. I was in denial for years, but you wanted me to know. You wanted me to know how replaceable I am”, I get choked up. I’ve been taking therapy since the breakup to cope. This shit really fucked me up and saying it out loud doesn’t make it better. I’m not getting angry, I’m getting flushed.

“I told you I would leave her”, Brian whispers. I squeeze on his length.

“You thought I would believe you, but I knew better. You wanted power”, I sniffle.

“It was wrong of me to want both”, he moans.

“Yes it was!”, I yell, yanking my hand back from his crotch. He puts his hand behind my head and rubs his thumb with the grain of my hair.

“Have regrets now, Brian?”, I sniffle. He pulls me into a kiss. This doesn’t feel like the sexual tension type of kiss from the past year, this feels like the romantic first kiss from when we started dating. No matter how much I want to have this kiss, I have to stop. I push him away.

“No! You can’t just kiss me and expect me to shut up about you fucking me up!”, I shout.

“I know I can’t make it up to you”, Brian sighs.

“That’s right, you can’t”, I cross my arms, breaking eye contact with him.

“Do you want me to leave?”, his voice softens. He realizes he broke me. I’m not playing anymore.

“After tonight, I don’t want to see you again”, I bite the bullet.

“Do you want me to leave now?”, he turns mousy. I should say yes.

“No”, I mumble.

“Can I kiss you?”, he whispers. I appreciate the asking for consent. He was always good at that when we were dating. I nod. His fingers comb my hair, to soothe me.

“I’m sorry. About everything”, Brian apologizes.

“Enlighten me”, I quote him.

“I should have stopped seeing her when we started dating and I should have told you about it anyway. You’re the only girl for me”, he spills his heart.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Brian”, I glare at him. A hand slips to the small of my back, pulling me to him.

“You’re an incredible woman. I don’t deserve you”, he continues.

“That’s right, you don’t”, I subtly smile.

“Being with you was the best part of my life”, he whispers in my ear.

“I won’t stop loving you”, he adds. Don’t. Don’t say that.

“You still love me?”, I close my eyes to embrace the little breaths on my ear.

“I never stopped, I couldn’t”, confesses.

“Fuck you, Brian”, I whimper before meeting his lips. A tear falls down my cheek. How does he know exactly what to say? No, no, no! This is exactly what he wants! I said it’s over and he’ll do anything to keep this going. Brian takes my hand and leads us to my bedroom. He notices my tears and stops us from going further.

“Baby”, he whispers, wiping the tears away.

“You really fucked me up, Brian”, my voice cracks.

“I know”, he breaths, untying the belt of my robe.

“Why did you keep her after all these years?”, I continue.

“You said it yourself, I won’t stop till I’m satisfied”, he admits. He slips the robe off my shoulders, letting it fall. Brian hisses from the sight of me in my new bra and pantie set with the garter belt.

“Was I not enough for you? Did I not make you happy?”, I sniffle. He halts.

“Don’t say that about yourself. I’m the problem, I got greedy”, his voice changes from soothing to stern.

“Will you always be greedy?”, I raise my voice.

“No!  After the breakup, I ended it with her. I haven’t seen her since and I don’t plan on ever calling her again”, he matches the volume. Really? He ended things with her? Is he just saying that?

“You better not be fucking lying to me”, I run my fingers through his hair.

“I wanted to become a better person”, he swallows his pride.

“Prove to me how much of a better person you became”, I flutter my eyelashes. He unhooks my bra and let it fall on top of the robe. His fingers outline my silhouette: my arms, shoulders, breasts, waist, hips. How could the most delicate touch feel so intense? How could he get me from disgruntled to needy in the matter of seconds with his fingertips?

“Brian”, I breathlessly moan, feeling needy for more. He strips naked and plays with the material of my panties. His cock never looked more beautiful.

“On the bed, face up”, he whispers a command. I lay on my bed, teasing him by sweetly keeping my legs closed, acting prudish was one of our favorites because he knows just how dirty I could get. Sitting between my legs, he lifts my leg with the garter belt and kisses a trail from my ankle to the delicate strap of lace. His teeth tugs the lace off. This is a different Brian. He hasn't taken his time like this since the breakup. Usually at arrangements like this, he would come in, fuck me for an hour or two then leave. We would've  been done with round one by now. He runs his hands along my outer thigh, feeling the silky skin he can't get enough of.

"Please", I beg for more. The call of my neediness ignites a fire in his eyes.

"Yes? Talk to me", he teases, massaging my inner thigh.

"Just fuck me, Brian", I groan from frustration.

"I told you I wanted to become a better person. You deserve more than just a fuck, you deserve to feel good", he scoffs, slipping  the panties off me, tossing it to the pile on the floor.

"What are you going to do to me?", I get anxious.

"Don't worry about it, baby. Just relax and let me do my thing", he smoothly hushes me. He pushes my legs apart, giving me a deliciously good stretch. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of my glistening pussy that calls for him. Without hesitation he bends over to lick stripes along my slit, still holding my legs. He syncs his tongue with his hands, giving muscle relaxing massages to my inner thigh as he swirls between folds. I'm already breathless. I don't know what to grab. Do I grab his hair, my blankets? He looks so beautiful, I almost forgot how long it's been since he went down on me. I brush his hair back that was almost covering his eyes. He looks up at me, giving me a sexy little wink. He hooks his arms around my thighs to keep them open as he goes deeper, my hand not leaving his hair. I arch my back when his nose tickles my clit, a mousy whimper trapped in my throat. He laughs at the feeling of me coming undone. My pussy pulsates under his lips, making the warm knot in my stomach turn. I need a distraction, I can't cum this soon.

"What's in the black box you brought?", I moan, hoping he could stop to show me so my knot can loosen up.

"My apartment key", he reveals, lips not leaving my quivering pussy. His apartment key? He doesn't even have a key to my place! Wait...he did have an ulterior motive coming here.

"And a surprise for later", he chuckles, tongue teasing my entrance. My grip on his hair tightens. The surprise could be anything. I don't remember talking to him about getting toys, or at least not recently. Could it be something he wants me to try on? We already have a drawer full of toys, so what could this be?

[huberts-private-counsel-archive]

Hello it's me again~ may I... Ask for a cute little one shot thing for Ashe and Hubert. I'm weak for them....

,HI!! I MEANT TO GET TO THIS A L O T SOONER SKJFHFKJ I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND HOW LONG IT TOOK ;W;

And also, Modern AU for this one!! and...a lot more (attempted) humor than I originally intended lol - as well as a switch from my usual format!! 

....aaand a lot...longer...than I thought...i know you said little but i kinda went off woops

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

Hubert was going to die. That’s it. He was going to perish in just a few moments and the one person he thought would have his back was currently trying not to laugh at him.

Correction. Was laughing at him.

“Edelgard please, this is a serious matter...” Hubert grumbled, though that only succeeded in making her laugh harder...for some reason. 

“I’m sorry Hubert,” Edelgard said as she wiped away the tears in her eyes - liar, she wasn’t actually sorry, Hubert could tell - and sighed. “But truly...how could you expect me to not laugh?”

“Maybe out of respect for a childhood friend?” Hubert buried his head under his arms, trying to figure a way out of this situation while his traitor of a friend simply laughed. 

“Hubert, honestly, how did you expect me to not laugh? What you’ve told me is, pardon my bluntness, absolutely hysterical,” chuckling as she spoke. Perhaps Hubert would have to reconsider helping her get those tickets Dorothea’s new play if this was how she was going to treat him.

What was the matter, exactly? According to Edelgard, something hysterical. That something being the fact that, after what might have been a year or two of stewing in his feelings for a young man named Ashe Ubert, and decided to take the plunge and attempt to confess.

By writing him a letter. With the intent to gift it in person, since he knew that he would not be able to say the words aloud, having not bothered to sign it. And then leaving said letter in front of his dorm room because he was an idiot and a fool who panicked as soon as he knocked on the door, dropping the letter and booking it.

Do you understand Hubert’s dilemma now?

And thus he had come to Edelgard, hoping for sympathy and maybe advice on how to get the letter back if not apologize, only to be met with laughter on her end. The absolute traitor.

“In any case...I don’t believe you have any reason to worry.” Edelgard took a sip from the coffee she had been nursing when Hubert initially asked if they could meet. Thankfully the shop had been quiet when he arrived, with very few patrons aside from himself and Edelgard...

...and yet, with how much she was laughing, Hubert almost would’ve preferred if there were more patrons - if only to have some distraction from his embarrassment.

“I believe I have every reason to worry. I made a fool out of myself,” Hubert lifted his head, only to hold it in his hands. Goddess, the amount of embarrassment he felt from this whole situation was immeasurable - and it was all his own fault! He really had no one to blame here but himself.

And yet...truthfully, he couldn’t find any true regret in this situation. Well, of course he regretted leaving behind the letter, and he defnitely regretted running away like a coward even more, but he couldn’t find himself regretting falling for Ashe. In fact, he found himself struggling just trying to picture a world where he did not fall for Ashe. After all, Ashe was practically a ball of sunshine incarnated as a person - if opposites really did attract, well, that would explain quite a bit. 

There were a million and one reasons as to why and how he realized he’d fallen (including but not limited to the time Hubert had quite literally tripped into Ashe’s arms)...and apparently, he had found it fit to include it all in the letter.

Perhaps if he asked nicely enough, Edelgard’s step-brother would be willing to put him out of his misery.

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

Ashe hadn’t known what to expect when he first found the letter in front of his dorm room after hearing a knock on the door. He’d reached down to pick it up, but when he looked up to see who left it there, all he’d seen was a flash of black rounding the corner. Maybe he should have given chase, but at the time, he had been distracted by the letter that was now in his hands. 

So he had gone back into his dorm room, carefully opened the letter, and began to read.

And within the first few sentences, felt his entire face burn.

Whoever it was that wrote this letter - and actually wrote it, in very neat (and almost familiar) handwriting - was very, very much in love with him. And very detailed about said love. No, there wasn’t anything gross or creepy in the letter, but with how hot Ashe’s face felt, there might as well be. 

It’s just...he’s never felt so flattered in his entire life? It was almost uncomfortable, with how hot his dorm room seemed all of a sudden when they mentioned how much they adored his cooking, and the way he gushed about his favorite books, and how his eyes apparently lit up whenever getting particularly passionate, and...

Well, you get the gist. The point was, Ashe was definitely flustered. There were just a couple of problems.

First of all, whoever had written the letter had not signed their name. Sure, they had handwritten the entire letter, but Ashe didn’t think comparing the handwriting of every student on the campus would be feasible in any way (although, looking at it again, it did look rather familiar...). 

Second of all...Ashe already had someone he was in love with. So whoever had sent this letter, he was flattered, really, but his heart was already set on one person.

That person being Hubert von Vestra. Maybe it was surprising (Ashe could almost hear Sylvain’s shocked sputtering if he were to ever find out), but Ashe found himself falling head over heels with this man. Perhaps he was rather intimidating when you first meet him, and maybe he seemed far too dark and broody for someone like Ashe to fall for, but that was the thing.

Hubert was more than just some dark and broody forensic science major (though he wouldn’t blame people for thinking otherwise). At his core, Hubert was a truly kind person, despite it only being to people he deemed worthy of it. He was loyal to a fault, and just as protective - Ashe almost giggled remembering the time someone had tried to trip Ashe and ended up getting their own legs swept out from underneath them. There was also the fact that Hubert was fond of cats - Ashe had caught him, on multiple occasions, petting and even feeding the stray cats around their university.

It also didn’t hurt that Hubert was very attractive. Very, very attractive,

Look, point was, Ashe had to find whoever wrote this letter and tell them that he was awfully sorry, but his heart was already set on someone else, and he couldn’t find himself returning their feelings when he was already in love with another. That would just be cruel of him.

So he had headed out, letter in hand, hoping to maybe find Hubert and asked him if he could help him figure this out. No, this wasn’t just an ulterior motive to spend more time with Hubert - though that certainly didn’t hurt - he just knew that if anyone could figure out who wrote it, it would be Hubert. After all, Hubert was extremely smart, almost scarily so. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to look for too long. He spotted Hubert sitting with Edelgard at the university’s coffee shop - though for whatever reason, Edelgard seemed to be laughing as Hubert buried his head in his hands. Did something happen?

“Hey, Hubert!” Ashe called out as he walked over, holding the letter tight. Hubert’s head whipped around to look at him, with a strangely panicked look in his eyes as Edelgard’s simply twinkled with what Ashe guessed was amusement. 

“H-Hello Ashe,” Hubert said in a strained voice once Ashe had reached their table, with Ashe tilting his head at hearing the strained tone. 

“Are you feeling alright? If you aren’t, I can always come back later-” Ashe began saying, though he was cut off. Surprisingly enough, by Edelgard - somehow, she just didn’t seem like the type.

“No, it’s quite alright. I’m certain we would both love to hear what you had to say,” Edelgard said, giving Hubert an odd look.

“A-Alright, if you say so.” Ashe looked between them, a bit concerned, but he supposed Edelgard would know if Hubert was alright or not. “I got this letter earlier today, and I was wondering-”

Hubert suddenly seemed to choke on nothing, coughing hard. Was Edelgard sure that he was alright? Hubert was turning horribly red...although, Edelgard herself didn’t seem too concerned. In fact, she seemed almost amused.

“Well? Go on,” she prompted.

“...I was simply wondering if Hubert could maybe help me find out who wrote it,” Ashe finished almost weakly. 

Hubert’s face seemed to be warring between various shades of red and turning completely pale. He muttered something, so quietly that Ashe couldn’t hear it.

“Did you say something? I’m afraid I couldn’t quite hear you...” Ashe watched as Hubert gave an almost helpless look to Edelgard, as Edelgard simply gestured for him to go on.

Hubert coughed again, and without looking Ashe in the eyes, he spoke. “It...It was me.”

Ashe stared at him for a few moments, completely silent as his mind processed what Hubert had said.

Then...

“WHAT?!”

(Edelgard, admittedly, was having far too much fun watching the both of them stumbling over their words as they both admitted to having at least a year’s worth of feelings for one another. She was glad that they finally managed to get together, even if it was in one of the more ridiculous ways Edelgard had thought of.

Well, she’s definitely seen worse. That worse being her professor’s first attempt at romancing the dean of the school...his fault for taking Sylvain’s advice to heart. At least it worked out between them.

She almost wished she had recorded this. Dorothea would be having a field day with this entire situation.)

[mookoo-writes]

~Day Out With Wilford~ (Wilford Warfstache X Teen! Reader)

Authors Note: I love Wilford so much oof

Fandom: Markiplier Egos Pairing: Wilford Warfstache X Teen! Reader (Platonic) Warning(s): Platonic reader, cursing

Anyway, please enjoy~

~~~~~Y/n P.O.V.~~~~~

Schools the worst. All the homework we receive, being forced to socialize, getting yelled at by teachers, and having to be responsible for all our duties. One of them is bringing a lunch or at least some money for the vending machine. Unfortunately for me, I didn't bring either. I guess I could just ask a friend for something but I don't want to be a burden. I could just use it as a study hall then.

I huffed as I stuck my hands in my pockets. Weaving through the crowds of people to get to the cafeteria, I spot a familiar pink haired entity. Why is he here? I thought I told all of the egos to never come to my school unless necessary. I sigh as I start walking over to Wilford. He looked completely lost. Like he was in a jungle surrounded by animals. Actually, that's a pretty good description of high school.

"Y/n! Fancy meeting you here!" Wilford ran over and gave me a huge hug. I saw over his shoulder that everyone passing by was giving us a weird look, but that didn't bother Wil one bit. He let go and gave me a big smile under his pink mustache. "I thought I told you-" "Yea yea yea I know, but you forgot your lunch on the kitchen counter. Wil pulled a brown paper bag from behind his back. I took hold of the bag and felt something wet on my hands. "Uh Wil, why is it leaking?" I open it and find...

"WHY IS THEIR A LUNG IN A BAG?!" I shove the bag back at Wilford so I don't have to hold the liquid drenched bag. He grabbed it out of my hand and took a peek inside. "Woops. I grabbed the wrong back. I think this is Dr. Iplier's." Wil tapped his chin as he tries to decipher why it was on the counter. Of course, this type of stuff doesn't phase him. On the other hand,  I am mortified that I just touched human essence. I just stare at my hands as the liquid lingers on my palms. Wil snatched the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me. I quickly grab it from his hand and start drying my own hands off.

"Well, looks like I'm skipping lunch." I sighed as I handed the handkerchief back to Wil. Will gasps and covers his heart with his hand like I just offended him. "Nonsense! I will take you out to eat like a gentleman!" Wilford grabs my arm and practically drags me to the school's exit. There is no way I could stop Wil from pulling me out of school. Plus, I don't want him to stop. My worst subject was after lunch.

"At least let me sign out so it doesn't seem like I'm skipping." I walked over to the school's office and signed some papers to get out of this jail. I walk back to the mustached man as he rocked on his heels in boredom. "Just, don't tell Dark I'm practically ditching school." "Wasn't planning on it gumdrop." Wil gave me a side smile as we walked down the street to a nearby restaurant. "So, what goes on when I'm not home?" I bluntly ask, trying to make conversation. "Well, after you leave for school, we have our meeting" I shake my head, telling him to go on. "Everyone want's to kill each other a little more when you leave." I laugh at his honesty. "I'm a little surprised no one already has." We both laugh until we stop at a little restaurant with an outside seating area. Wil pulled out one of the chairs for me to sit. I swung my bookbag off of my back and set it next to the chair. "What a gentleman." I rolled my eyes as I took a seat across from Wil.

A waiter/waitress came over at our table and handed us our menus. "What would you two like to drink." The waiter/waitress asked as they gave me a wink. I fumbled with my menu from the sudden flirty mood. "I- uh- I'll have a f/d" I gave a nervous laugh as I try to avoid eye contact. Wilford gave a stern look and ordered what he wanted. The waiter/waitress smirked and walked away with our orders. "I'm going to un-alive them." I look over at Wil and see his hand holding a knife. "You better put that thing away! Where in public!" I whispered/yelled at him. He only sighed and stuck the weapon back into his pocket. "Just to be clear, you're not allowed to date until Dark is dead," Wil stated, fixing his pink bowtie. "But he's immortal." "Exactly!" A bright smile was plastered on the pink haired man. "Who are you, my dad" I joked. "Well, all of your caretakers are male, so to answer your question, I guess I am." He gave a proud smile.

Having so many people take care of me kinda reminds me of Steven Univers, except Steven actually knows at least one of his biological parents. I guess all of the Septiceye's and iplier egos are like your dad's without the romantic parts.

The waiter/waitress came back with our drinks and asked us what we wanted to eat. As Wil was ordering, the waiter/waitress kept glancing at me. It was pretty uncomfortable actually.

As they took our order off to the kitchen, Wilford looked at me with a stern expression. "If they do anything funny-" "Calm your straps their Wil" I sigh at his dad like antics. "I think I can take care of myself. After all, I didn't learn how to use a gun for nothing." I gave him a smirk. Wilford's eyes lit up with a proud expression. "That's my girl/boy/other!" I let out a chuckle. I did learn from the best after all.

"Here's your food." The waiter/waitress smiled as they handed each of us our food. "Thank god. I'm so hungry!" I said as I took a bite of my food. "Hi hungry, I'm dad." I slowly look at the man sitting across from and gave out a disappointing sigh. "So it begins," I mumbled to myself.

I took a few more bits out of my meal until I saw a piece of paper underneath all of it.

Call me ###-###-####

"I'm just gonna put that here" I placed the piece of paper under my plate pretending they never put it there. Before I placed my plate back to its original spot, Wilford snatched the paper off the table. His eyes narrowed as he read what was written. He crumpled the paper in one hand and threw it in the nearest garbage.

"How have your meals been so far?" The waiter/waitress asked, leaning on my side of the table. This set Wil off the charts angry and annoyed. He abruptly stood up from his chain and grabbed him/her by the color of their uniform. "You know, It's not smart to flirt with my daughter/son/other in front of their father." Wil spat at the poor waiter/waitress. "I think you're taking this father thing a little to serious." I patted Wil on the back as he let go of the waiter/waitress. "I think we're done here. Grab your bag, we're leaving." I swiftly picked up my back and started walking beside Wilford.

Where probably never going there again.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

"You forgot your wallet, didn't you"

"You know it!"

[southside-vixen]

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 7

Chapter 7. Tequila, Hold the Worm

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

Ness made the trade off for the Serpent kids that night, it seemed the snake charmer made good on her promise. However, just as soon as her friends arrived they all left with Ness for a Serpent Summit. Since Adria wasn’t a Serpent, and she wasn’t working, she therefore wasn’t invited.

The minutes ticked by like hours as she waited for Ness and Toni to get back. First she tried watching TV, then reading a magazine, then in an act of desperation doing sit ups. Nothing helped. It was after midnight by the time Ness and Toni got back. Ness collapsed on the couch as Toni went and took a shower. Adria stared at her aunt waiting for some sort of news.

“Yes, Adrianna?” Ness rubbed her temples, sinking further into the cushions.

“Are you not going to tell me what happened?” She sat expectantly, hating being left out of the loop. Ness didn’t have an issue telling her issues with the gang before so it seemed odd that she would start now.

“Ask Toni. I’ve had enough Serpent business for the night.” She sighed again “I’m sorry Adria, I just need to sleep.” Ness left for her room leaving Adria standing in the living room, waiting for Toni. Clearly something had gone on if Ness was already this tired.

When Toni stepped out of the bathroom Adria was already buzzing around her, nosy as ever, prodding for information about the meeting she missed out on.

“Will you let me put clothes on first?” Toni groaned, going through the dresser for a shirt and shorts. “You have no chill.”

“I get that a lot.” Adria replied, taking a seat on her bed. She impatiently waited as Toni got dressed before she stared expectantly again “Toni, come on this is killing me.”

“Christ, Ads. It’s not as exciting as you want to think.” Toni grabbed a brush to run through her hair, not bothering to look in Adria’s direction “Jughead went with Tall Boy to try to deal with the Ghoulie issue. Jughead decided on a car race next weekend.”

“Jughead decided to deal with the Ghoulies a la Fast and Furious street race? And you tell me nothing exciting happened?” Adria started intently at her foster sister/ friend “What is exciting to you?”

Toni didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to think of would actually excite her after all the shit the Serpents put her through “Winning the lottery.” She shrugged.

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

The days counted down until the big race as Jughead kept disappearing to his ex-girlfriend to work on the race car. Toni made a comment before about how Betty didn’t seem the mechanic type, not like Adria would know as she never formally met her. School had quieted down after the raid, although it was clear both the Serpents and the Ghoulies were on edge.

The morning of the race Adria was destroying her closet trying to find something to wear. What does one wear to a street race? She scoured the internet trying to find anything helpful before finally consulting Toni. Who was equally not helpful.

“Just wear what you usually do” She replied

It didn’t matter what Adria wore because she was told to tend the bar while every other Serpent attended the race.

“This is torture.” Adria murmured to herself, picking up another glass to clean. Sure enough there wasn’t a soul in the bar. Most of the day she sat on her phone, waiting to see if someone would post something on social media. Her FOMO kicking in hard.

The hours passed by as she passed her time doing nothing at all. She stared at the windows waiting for a motorcycle to pull up. At this rate she was so bored she would have welcomed actual customers.

Sweet Pea was the first to pull in with Toni on the back of his bike. She could see him angrily toss his helmet on the back while Toni looked like she was trying to calm him down. Adria wasn’t necessarily excited about the first person she saw being the angriest person she knew, but at least she wouldn’t be bored anymore.

“You don’t know that!” Sweet Pea ripped the door open, causing the bell on top to nearly go flying as Toni hurried in behind “He could have known the whole time which is why the sheriff got Malachai and not him.”

Sweet Pea pulled up a stool at the bar while Toni went behind it to start her shift. Just in time as the parking lot was quickly filling up with a sea of leather jackets.

“Sounds like you guys had a good time” Adria smiled and rested her elbows on the bar “Care to fill me in?”

“Jughead put us in bed with the pigs. The whole race was a sham, the sheriff was waiting at the bend to arrest the Ghoulie leader.” Pea grumbled angrily

“Sweet Pea doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, Malachai got arrested but Jughead swears he didn’t know about it. His friend Archie owned up to it and if Jughead said he isn’t involved I’m inclined to believe him.” Toni argued

“You’re just backing him up because you want to fuck him” Sweet Pea didn’t bother to make eye contact but Toni at this point was fuming. Adria knew that Toni gave up on Jughead the moment she found out he wasn’t over his ex but she didn’t think she told Sweet Pea or Fangs about it.

“Just because I spend time with him” Toni started to raise her voice causing the Serpents who had just entered to stop what they were doing entirely “When the rest of you can’t be bothered does not mean I’m crawling into bed with him. He’s honest and if this were his plan he would have said something”

She slammed down the drink one on of the older Serpents ordered and collected a handful of bills to put in the till. The whole bar was silent for a minute, quite the feat for a full house. Soon enough the bar sprung back to life, trying to ignore Toni’s outburst. Sweet Pea left the bar to go find Fangs at the pool table and Toni joined Adria in hastily making drinks for the crowd.

“You good?” Adria asked when things settled down

“Yeah I’m fine. I just wish he’d think before he opens his stupid mouth” Toni eyed Sweet Pea from across the bar, a frown still apparent on her face. It wasn’t likely that she would let this one go any time soon.

“That would be terrifying” Adria laughed “At first it bothered me but now I think it’s kind of nice. I like knowing where I stand with people. Better to know that I’m not liked than have someone go behind my back.” Adria shrugged. Sure she would rather he stop giving her so much shit but at least he didn’t smile to her face and laugh at her behind her back. Unless he did. But he really didn’t seem the type.

“Is that a compliment I hear?” Toni raised an eyebrow, her frown curling upward at the corner of her mouth

“Absolutely not. Fuck that guy” Adria smiled back at her

“You wish.” Toni’s smirk turned into a full grin as Adria punched her in the arm causing her to flinch and rub the spot. “I deserved that.” The two girls both shared a bit of laughter and all was right with the world.

A few hours later the bar managed to calm down a bit and half the patrons left as they had other things to do on their weekend. Adria watched as Fangs and Sweet Pea finish up another game of pool while Toni dried glasses.

“I’ve got winner.” Adria called out across the room. It had been a while since she last played, she wondered if she would still be able to keep up. Both boys nodded at her request and returned to their concentrating, only pausing to give each other grief between shots.

Soon enough Sweet Pea came out on top, giving Fangs a friendly punch in the shoulder as the taunted him about how he won 3-1. Adria popped up from her bar stool and grabbed the pool stick from Fangs’ hand.

“Good luck” He told her “He’s on a lucky streak, it’s the only way to explain it.”

“Lucky streak?” Sweet Pea laughed as he chalked the stick “Fangs just doesn’t want to admit that I’m the better man.”

Adria shot Fangs a smile before looking back at Sweet Pea “Well then. May the best woman win.” She gave him a wink.

The game started out well enough, Adria broke and ended up with stripes. Managing to get two balls in her first turn. She and Sweet Pea kept fairly even and the number of colored balls were diminishing quickly. It seemed that lucky for her playing pool was like riding a bike. Even though it was months since her last game she picked it back up quickly. Although if she were playing her father the game would have been long over. He had years of experience and skill on her.

Finally the game had dwindled down one stipe, one solid, and the eight ball. Both Fangs and Toni were watching intently, quietly placing bets on who they thought would win.

“Let’s make this interesting.” Adria said, propping the stick up beside her, the stick almost as tall as she was. “If I win you have to bus the tables in nothing but your underwear and an apron.”

Sweet Pea raised his eyebrow “Trying to get me to strip, Princess? Deal. What’s in it for me if I win?”

“I want to see you humiliated for talking all that good shit about winning” she smiled sweetly “Name your terms.”

“Alright. Same. If I win you have to bartend in an apron and underwear. I also expect VIP service.”

Adria considered the terms and accepted. She had no intention of losing, no matter what the cost. She could hear Fangs and Toni as well as some of the other Serpents wooping in the background. Adria took a deep breath as she lined up her next shot. It wasn’t an easy shot, but it was doable. She muttered a small prayer to herself and knocked her last ball toward the side pocket.

The seconds crept by as the ball moved toward the pocket, only to be knocked out of the way by the very corner of it.

“¡No Mames!” Adria yelled involuntarily. Sweet Pea immediately laughed

“So do you want to start stripping now or do you want to watch me sink these two first?” He immediately lined up his shot and sunk his last solid ball in. All that was left was the eight ball, but the game wasn’t over just yet.

“Call it.” Adria demanded

“Eight ball, corner pocket.” He tapped the pocket with his stick before chalking up one last time. Just then Adria had an idea. A brilliant one at that.

She waited until he was lining up his shot before groaning loudly trying to get his attention while she unclipped her bra from underneath her shirt. Using her feminine magic she managed to wiggle her arms out from the straps and remove it while never taking her shirt off.

She casually shoved it in her back pocket while rolling her shoulders a bit “Much better. That was just so uncomfortable” She was milking this stunt for all it was worth as it was her final shot at a distraction.

Sweet Pea’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly as he took the shot. Once the cue ball was rolling he realized it was too late. He took his eyes off Adria to see the cue ball spin sideways into the side pocket. Adria was doing her best to suppress a laugh, but Toni and Fangs were already in hysterics.

“Oof.” She smiled “A scratch on the last shot? Automatic loss.” Toni threw Adria an apron which she in turn handed to Sweet Pea “Better get stripping.”

“You fucking cheated!” he yelled “You distracted me on my last shot!”

“I did no such thing. It’s not my fault you were watching me, the straps were digging into my arms.” She made a show of rubbing her shoulders

“Fangs! Help me out here”

“Dude, not her fault you’re distracted by boobs.” He shrugged “It’s not like she was waving her hand in front of your face.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Pea. Those tables aren’t going to bus themselves.” Toni added, smiling from the bar.

“Fucking. Fine. I’ll honor the deal.” He slid his jacket off onto the chair behind him and began unbuttoning his shirt “But everyone here knows you cheated. They’re all just enjoying this at my expense.” He made the last bit a little louder.

Adria sat herself on a barstool next to Fangs, high fiving as they watching Sweet Pea strip down to his boxers and tie an apron around his hips.

“Hope you’re enjoying the view, Princess.” Sweet Pea taunted as he began to wipe down tables “As you had to cheat to get it.”

“Someone really doesn’t like losing.” She muttered to Fangs, both laughing as he made his way around the bar, cleaning all the tables. Some over the Serpents even going as far as sticking dollar bills into the waist band of his boxers. It seemed like with this as entertainment just about everyone forgot about the events of the race. If even for a moment.

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

A few days after the race things were already calming down. Lucky for Sweet Pea everyone finally stopped teasing him about his strip tease at the Wyrm. Although a good portion of them had pictures saved on their phone for blackmail.

News was circulating that the leader of the Serpents, FP, was getting out of prison that weekend and that Jughead and his ex-turned not ex-girlfriend were throwing a retirement party at the Wyrm.

“I can’t believe the first time I’ll meet FP will be the day he retires” Adria said, poking at her salad at lunch “Who do you think will take over?”

“Hopefully not Tall Boy. He’s been awful since FP was put away.” Toni scrolled through her phone, looking at different photographers’ work on instragram. “I’m just going for Sweet Pea and Fangs to get drunk enough to sing some lovey dovey duet together.”

Right. Toni mentioned Uptown Betty even rented a karaoke machine which seemed a bit out of place at a biker bar in her opinion. Then again what did she know.

Sweet Pea slung his arm around Fangs “You’re just jealous of our love, Topaz.” He and Fangs gazed longingly into each other’s eyes before the both of them broke away laughing

“Little known fact, Ads. Pea and I are kings of karaoke.” Fangs told her “Are you going to sing something?”

“Get me drunk enough and I do a lot of things I don’t expect to be doing.” She replied

“Point taken. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of then” He gave her a wink

And sure enough they did.

FP hadn’t even arrived yet and Adria was already drunk. Fangs and Toni had been indulging her with group tequila shots while Sweet Pea opted to just stick to beer.

“Did you see Alice Cooper?” Toni asked the group “She may be Serpent enemy number one but she looks hot.”

“Oooh” Fangs slurred “Looks like Toni is into older women” they all laughed as Toni rolled her eyes

“Listen. I’m just being honest.” She raised her glass as she took another shot. The other two followed. She wasn’t exactly wrong. She had never seen Betty’s mom before but she was definitely pretty. Adria leaned up against the bar and looked at around the crowd. Sweet Pea was off in a corner being hit on by two of the younger Serpents from school. Fangs disappeared somewhere when she wasn’t paying attention and Toni was eyeing Jughead with Betty.

“Everything okay?” Adria leaned over and asked into her ear

“Yeah.” She nodded “It’s just weird seeing them together. I would have imagined him with a goth girl.” Adria nodded as well. She didn’t know much about Betty aside from what Toni told her. Just looking at them they looked like something out of Grease. Like Danny Zuko standing with Sandy.

Fangs reappeared not too long after to pull Adria away “I signed Pea and I up for Time of My Life and now it’s your turn to pick something.”

She leafed through the giant book of different karaoke songs, looking for anything Spanish.

“The only latino song you have is Despacito? With Justin Bieber?” She groaned after searching the book at least twice. “Whatever. I’ll make it work. Fangs I need more to drink if I’m going to do this.”

Fangs, who didn’t need any other excuse to get his friend wasted was on it “I can go all night with these shots.”

An hour or so later Adria watched from the back of the bar, laughing while Sweet Pea and Fangs crooned at each other with microphones in their hands. They were definitely entertaining up on stage. Overdramatically singing each line of their chosen duet. Before long their song ended and the deejay announced that Adria was up next.

She weaved through the crowd, occasionally using someone to keep herself going in a semi-straight line. She needed every ounce of her drunken confidence to push herself up on stage. She climbed the stairs and took a microphone from Fangs as he and Sweet Pea situated themselves at the front of the crowd, Toni soon joining them.

“Ahem. Toni Topaz this one’s for you.” She winked at her and blew her a small kiss before the music began. The lyrics for the remix came onto the screen, and she quickly ignored every single one in favor of the original.

“Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote. Tengo que bailar contigo hoy” She was pitchy, and slurring but she would make this a performance to remember. She kept singing as Fangs was burst out laughing. She was glad at least one of them spoke Spanish to know how completely ridiculous she was being. It wasn’t long before he pulled out his phone and handed it to Toni who was then laughing and shaking her head. He must have given her the translation.

After she finished she took a bow and handed back the microphone, falling in with her friends. Toni was still laughing as she pushed Adria in the shoulder, nearly causing her to stumble and fall over even though there was hardly any force behind it.

“Pervert.” She smiled at her friend

“That was great, Ads” Fangs laughed as well. Sweet Pea, although he didn’t say anything, just smiled and shook his head. Soon enough Toni disappeared to help behind the bar and Fangs had moved across the room to flirt with some girl.

The next duo up for karaoke was all too familiar. Adria didn’t recognize the girl, but the red head-Archie- she recognized immediately as the one who chased them off with a gun at the bodega. Adria immediately looked up at Sweet Pea who stared at the boy instead of doing anything. She was thankful they were tucked at the back of the room behind a crowd.

The two weren’t bad signers by any means but their performance was beyond awkward. Not only was their song depressing and not fit for the mood at all, but soon the brunette girl ran off. Archie quickly dropped his mic and ran out the door after her. The crowd was only able to boo for a moment before Jughead’s girlfriend Betty took the stage and picked up where they left off.

‘Perfect song for her. Boring.’ Adria thought to herself as she rolled her eyes. She could barely see the stage behind a sea of taller Serpents but she immediately saw Betty move to unbutton her top. Adria looked around in disbelief as she threw it off to the side and moved to her skirt. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the stage so clearly she wasn’t hallucinating the situation.

When she looked back at the stage Betty was in black lingerie, trying to look sexy against the pole when she clearly had no experience.

To her surprise she heard Sweet Pea whistle from next to her. She looked up at him in shock as his face was covered in a smirk

“Hey!” She yelled at him “That’s Jughead’s girlfriend, you pervert. Cover your eyes!”

He tilted his head “What are you going to do? Make me? You can’t even reach.”

Adria’s eyes filled with drunken determination. She looked around and noticed a bar height chair behind them which she pulled up next to Sweet Pea and climbed on. Now being a head or so taller than him she leaned over to try to cover his eyes as he attempted to swat her away.

In an event everyone around them saw coming, drunk Adria lost her balance and fell off the chair. Falling right into Sweet Pea. She let out a small shriek as he took as he took a couple steps back to steady himself.

“That’s it. I’m taking you home.” He groaned, keeping his arms around her shoulders to make sure she was steady

“What? No! I’m having fun.” Adria protested, trying to wiggle free and failing miserably.

“I promised Fangs I would babysit you while he went off with some girl. You’re drunk. We’re taking you home.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” She shouted at him

“I didn’t want to have to do this.” He shrugged. He picked her up with ease and slung her over his shoulder, causing her to yell again. She pounded against his back trying to get him to let her go, not thinking that she’d most likely fall on her face if he did.

The crowd cleared around them, not wanting to be hit with a rogue fist to the face as the two exited the bar. Outside, Sweet Pea set her down as they reached his bike and handed her a helmet.

“Hop on.” Adria rolled her eyes as she snatched the helmet from his hand and jumped on behind him. She held onto his waist as tight as she possibly could, determined to make him uncomfortable. Her own small protest from being dragged from the party.

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

When they reached her trailer, Sweet Pea walked her inside and sat on the couch. Adria stared down at him, confusion running through her brain.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” She asked, still standing across the room

“I’m here to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’m not even tired. It’s only midnight. Go home Sweet Pea, I’m just going to watch TV.”

“I promised Fangs. Who promised Toni. I’m not leaving so get used to it.”

Adria groaned as she threw herself onto the couch next to him. Staring him down while he refused to remove his eyes from the TV. The two sat in silence, the sound of infomercials and old cartoons filling the room.

“Why won’t you look at me?” She asked, breaking the long silence

“Because I’m watching TV.” Sweet Pea replied simply

“Bullshit you are. Without looking at the guide tell me what this episode is about.” In between infomercials had been shitty re-runs of family guy. The current episode being something about the main guy making his house its own country.

“Something about how much he hates his daughter.” He pulled off the top of his head

“Wrong!” She made a buzzer noise at him “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”

“Like you are? You’ve been staring at me since I sat down.” He still hadn’t bothered to look at her, keeping his eyes glued to the TV.

“Am I bothering you?” She goaded “How about…Now?” Adria positioned herself from sitting next to him to straddling his lap. She continued to stare at him, trying to egg out a reaction only to have him look avert his eyes to the window.

“Get off.” He murmured, still refusing to look her in the eye “You’re annoying.”

“Not until you look at me.” She insisted “Look at me and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuck…fine.” He begrudgingly brought his eyes to hers, for once having to look up instead of down. “Are you happy now?”

Adria blinked and moved back, giving him more room. She looked up for a moment in thought before bringing her eyes back down to his “No.” her voice sounded jovial before but now it seemed to lose its light. She gently pushed a strand of his hair behind his ear and stood up. “I guess I’m not.”

Sweet Pea sat confused by the sudden turn of events, he expected her to keep tormenting him as a form of amusement until someone came and relived him of babysitting duty. But she just…stopped. He watched as she straightened herself out and pulled her hair into a ponytail. It was like a switch flipped and she was sober, serious.  

“Good Night, Sweet Pea.” Was all she said as the door to her room shut behind her. Sweet Pea didn’t hear anything else come from the room until he left.

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Dad, Probably

Well, I've had quite a stressful time, and I really needed a whole lot of happy, self-indulgent fun, so enjoy my entry for Diptember, Week 3: Mysteries.

A VERY short amount of time ago - Dipper can't stress that enough - Mom got a job as a travelling journalist and now, in the absolute epitome of convenience, she's gonna be pretty much constantly on the move for anywhere between 2-6 months. So, him and Mabel need some place to stay.

What better place than this . . . this . . . Mystery Shack.

Which belongs to a friend Mom hasn't seen in years.

Who looks kinda . . . terrified?

Oh boy.

AO3

“I like it,” Mabel decided brightly, staring out the car window at the tourist trap.

It was old. It was gauche. It had been owned, operated, and inhabited for a long time and looked it. The self-proclaimed “MYSTERY HACK” nestled in the woods as naturally as a toadstool in a library and as yet Dipper hadn’t been inclined to autocorrect the ramshackle spelling. The fact that Mom was going to dump him and his sister here for the rest of the foreseeable future didn’t help his mood. He glared at the floor.

“I think that’s the guy.” Mabel nudged him, tilting her head towards the view she had. Sparing a glance, Dipper saw a large group of overly-excitable tourists rounding the side of the building and being herded inside by a man in a suit and a fez, directing them with some sort of cane like a Maestro. Mom approached as the last of the crowd disappeared inside, calling out an indistinct greeting. The man turned, immediately stepping forward with a wide showman’s grin, only to falter. He became significantly more awkward as Mom approached, and by the time she stopped in front of him the smile was more a grimace of politeness. Dipper frowned. This was not encouraging.

He watching glumly as they talked for a while. When the guy’s jaw dropped, and his head snapped around to look at the car so fast he must have gotten whiplash, eyes going wide and face draining of colour at Mabel’s happy wave, Dipper sighed and turned back to the floor. To the backdrop of a very loud “Oh God. Oh my GOD,” he thought, Great. She doesn’t tell us she’s got the travelling journalist job, she doesn’t tell her friend beforehand that he’s going to be putting up two kids for a while, what’s next on the agenda?

“I think he’s excited!” Mabel cheered.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH-”

“Very excited,” Mabel maintained blithely as Mom shut the guy up before he could say (or, more accurately, shout so loudly the windows rattled) something he’d really regret. She was pretty big on the no-swearing thing.

“Is he about to throw up?” Dipper wondered, eyes drawn back to the scene against his will.

Mabel paused, inspecting the view. “He might be. Oooooorrrr he might be really interested in the grass! He sure is bending down close to it,”

“I think ‘doubled-over’ is more accurate,”

“Haha, cool words. Ooh, what about now, what’s the word for that?”

Dipper looked closely.

“I’d say that’s a ‘row’,”

“‘Row’.” Mabel turned it over in her mouth. With cheerfulness that possessed the tensile strength of a steel cable, she said, “It rhymes with ‘wow’! This is gonna be great, I just know it! Woop, here they come,”

Mom was walking back towards them, the guy following her like his legs weren’t working properly. When she motioned for them to hop out, Mabel did so in an “eager” way, while Dipper went for more of a “resigned” look.

The four of them met in a square of grass. There was a daisy growing in it. Mom looked at the guy. The guy continued to gaze speechlessly at the kids. The kids side-eyed one another. Mom sighed.

“Kids, this is Stan.” She introduced. “He’s okay with you staying here for a while until I get back.”

Riiiiight, Dipper thought, mentally raising an eyebrow. In his experience, Mom usually ended up getting what she wanted regardless of what other people were okay with. He and Mabel considered it both an awesome and frustrating superpower, and this was a case where Dipper was sour enough to be leaning heavily towards the latter option.

“He’salsoyour-” she added, lightning quick, but the speed with which Stan’s head cracked around to nail her with a panicked glare was still fast enough to stop her in her tracks. And ‘cracked’ was perhaps an even more suitable term than Dipper had originally realised. Now that he was closer, the guy did look old – but not definably so: he could have been anywhere between five and fifteen years older than Mom; the hair that was visible under his fez thick, but very grey, and his face lined, but more of the stress type than the age type, if Dipper had to guess. The cane seemed to be for show rather than support, and everything he’d heard of his voice so far was . . . well . . . atypical, Dipper decided with some restraint. Really gruff (possibly the roughest thing he’d ever heard), but what it lacked in pleasantness could more than be made up for in strength of volume, as he’d already demonstrated.

“I’m sorry, I mean, he’s also my . . . very good friend,” Mom finished eventually, rolling her eyes. Stan relaxed slightly, which was to say he looked like a marginally less tense bowstring.

Now, Dipper wasn’t an idiot. He was very proud of that fact, and he was determined to keep it true. As such, he’d only had to listen to one of Mabel’s overly-embellished explanations of this in his whole life, when certain things came up, and since then he’d been able to put together clues himself. Mom had never been married, had never wanted to be as far as he knew, and had had no one serious enough in her life for Dipper and Mabel to know about since they’d been born. That being said, they would, occasionally, encounter and be introduced to someone who had been, at one point, Mom’s “very good friend”.

i.e. Someone she’d dated or something. Mabel was generally more interested than he was in prying for details.

So. Another one, then. One that he and his sister would be crashing with.

Could this really not have been planned better? Or at all? He thought desperately.

During the silence Stan’s gaze had gradually been drawn back towards them. Dipper managed a weak grin. Stan matched it, even weaker. It stayed that way, before becoming something more genuine. Another moment, and Dipper would call it downright infectious.

“This is a long silence,” Mabel said airily, also grinning widely.

Stan laughed.

“Anything you want to say?” Mom asked him expectantly. That brought him back to reality. The grin dropped, and he suddenly looked like he wanted to run away again. Mom grabbed his arm.

“Excuse us,” she said to them, her smile brittle. Stan got dragged a few steps back to the Mystery Shack.

“This is not going well,” Dipper said flatly.

“You’re right,” Mabel snapped her fingers. “This old man is gonna need some ultra Mabel cuteness if we want this to be the best summer-slash-undefined-length-of-time-that-probably-won’t-exceed-six-months ever!”

“-of course I’ll tell them! Yes, I will I swear, I just- I need some- I gotta sort some things out first!”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” frowned Dipper, trying to subtly edge closer to the adults and eavesdrop on their hissed argument better.

“-it’s a lot for a guy to take in, is all I’m saying!”

“Hey.” Mabel tugged at his sleeve.

“What?”

“Did you see that?”

“-the hell wouldn’t you tell me?!”

“Uh huh, sure,” Dipper said vaguely, craning his neck to try and make out the expression on Mom’s face.

“Dipper. In the forest, look!”

Mom was saying something matter-of-factly back now, but she was much better at keeping her voice quiet than Stan was.

“It looked like a hawk and an octopus had a baby together!” Mabel said ecstatically, peering further into the forest.

“Right, right – what?”

“It was a . . . wait for it . . . hawktopus!” She grinned dazzlingly, eyes wide and amazed.  

“What? Mabel, stop messing with me, what did you really-” He stopped dead at the shadowy shape he saw moving high in the trees. There was a clear bird head, and a hint of feathers, and . . . well, could those really be vines, dangling below it? And from its beak, as well?

One whipped out and snagged a nearby critter, dragging it up to the tentacled beak to be swallowed whole.

Dipper felt his jaw drop open.

“Alright kids, I’m gonna head off now,” Mom said unceremoniously. Mabel turned away immediately and dashed over to give her a bone-crunching hug, which was readily returned.

Dipper continued to stare speechlessly at the forest.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Mabel whined.

“I know honey, I’m sorry, but it’s only for a little while and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you so much. Dipper Pines, get over here and give me a hug good-bye!”

“Oh, right.” Dipper shook himself and tore his gaze away, heading dutifully over to Mom, remembering when he was halfway there that he wasn’t happy with her and appropriately reschooling his expression. He still gave her a hug, though, and hugged tighter when he realised he might not be seeing her in person for as long as six months – but it wouldn’t actually be that long, right? Just until things became a bit steadier, which couldn’t take too long, right?

He caught sight of the garish building again.

No way that we’ll have to stay here for six months. Right?

“Promise me you’ll at least try to have some fun?” Mom said, pulling back and looking at him in concern.

He didn’t want to have bad memories of his last hug with Mom for definitely-not-a-long-time. With this in mind, Dipper only used about a quarter of his sarcasm reserves in his answer.

“Well, you said spending some time outdoors would be good for me, so I suppose it’ll happen whether I like it or not,”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised them, and then got back in the car, honked a goodbye, and left. Unnecessarily rapidly, in Dipper’s jaundiced opinion.

With nothing left to do, he turned back to Stan.

And the forest.

And the hawktopus!

All concern and resentment was flushed from his mind in an instant: he wanted to know what the frick-frack was in the trees and what it looked like and how big it was and if there were more and was it really a hawktopus or was it just something normal after all? That would be disappoint-

“‘Pines’?” said a dazed voice.

“Uh, yes?” Mabel smiled at Stan, who was blinking like he’d been hit on the head with a your-life-is-now-changed stick. “That sure is our last name, and it sure does seem to have a lot of significance to you!”

He cleared his throat and seemed to hurriedly pull himself together. “Right. Of course. I just, y’know, was under the impression that your mom’s last name was . . . er, something different. Right?” He looked at them uncertainly.

Well, this guy mustn’t have lasted long, Dipper mused privately. He doesn’t even remember Mom’s old last name. So of all the exes she could have loaded us with, why this one?

“Yeah it was,” he explained, still itching to run over to the boundary line between the trees and the car park and examine the dark, tentacled shape further. “But she didn’t want us to have it because it was so awful, and then she changed hers to match ours as well a few years after we were born,”

“Right! Yeah, that makes sense, ‘cause, yeah, her last name was definitely cra- cruddy, that . . .” Stan trailed off.

“Pea-Nez!” Mabel filled in helpfully.

“Pea- what?” He looked pretty startled. Dipper felt his cheeks warm up and nodded grimly.

“Yep. Some people still call her by it, but at least now the spelling’s different,”

“Yeesh, no wonder she used mi-,” Stan said reflectively before abruptly cutting himself off. “Uh, well, better get you two inside, huh?” He crouched down to pick up Mabel’s bag for her.

Immediately, Dipper saw his chance to investigate the thing in the trees starting to vanish. He looked urgently at Mabel, and she leapt into action, just as curious about it as him.

“Wait!” she shouted.

Stan jumped violently and snatched his hand back, stricken.

“What?!”

“We want to explore!” she beamed.

“Specifically the forest!” Added Dipper eagerly. “Is there something in there? That, like, possibly has never been discovered or seen by human eyes before?”

“Like an entire forest full of magical creatures?” Mabel enthused.

“You saw something?!” Stan whirled around on his knees to face the trees, one hand unmistakeably closing into a fist.

“Yeah!” Dipper said excitedly. “It was like this huge hawk, but it had tentacles for a beak and more tentacles for legs and it reached out and just grabbed this squirrel and it ate it whole and it’s eyes, oh man, they were-”

“-so beady!” Mabel picked up. “Like it had a hunger that could be satisfied only by the blood of the innocent! But other than that it was totally cute. Its squishy little tentacle face! Awww!”

“I wonder if it squirts ink! Wait, wait – if it inks, then it must have a predator! But it was huge! How big could its predators be? How dangerous? Mabel, we need to check this out!”

“You mean, go after the crazy deadly animals that hunt hawktopuses for food and maybe fun?”

“Yes!”

“Well, duh! What else are you supposed to do with the wonders of nature! Haha, I doubt we’ll get eaten or anything,”

“Stan!” Dipper’s heart was starting to beat faster and he already picture all the cool photos he could get if this was really happening and not just some awesome dream he didn’t want to ever wake up from. “Is the supernatural real?!”

After a moment, Stan turned back to them, hands spread in a what-can-you-do gesture, a shrug in his shoulders and only the barest hint of strain in his grin.

“Nope. Sorry, kid. The only weird things around here are the idiot tourists, who, believe me, are much easier to scam out of their money than the effort making a moving hawk-octopus hybrid thing requires,” he dismissed, taking hold of Mabel’s suitcase and reaching over for Dipper’s as well.

“Wait . . . you mean it’s a robot or something? You made it?” Dipper frowned.

“Awww, what?” said Mabel disappointedly.

“Got it in one,” Stan said easily.

“But I could’ve sworn it was . . .” Dipper moved to the side so he could see around Stan, who was blocking his view of the hawktopus.

“Well it wasn’t,” Stan said shortly, his arm coming up to grab Dipper’s shoulder and keep him in front of him. “Alright, let’s go find some room for you in the Shack, huh? Indoors. Away from any hell-bir- robotic hell-birds. I think the attic’s got some free space. You with me, kid?” He waved a hand in front of Dipper’s wandering eyes, bringing them back to him – which made Dipper notice something.

A very familiar pair of brown eyes.

Dipper blinked and frowned a little, looking more closely into the man’s increasingly confused gaze.

“What, I got something on my face?”

Dipper looked over at Mabel – or more precisely, her eyes; the same brown – but he supposed brown eyes weren’t all that unusual, and even if they were also a similar – no, exactly the same shape that didn’t necessarily . . . mean anything.

Mabel had tilted her head and was looking back and forth between him and Stan, inspecting them thoughtfully.

“What? What is it?” Stan and Dipper said together. Then they looked at each other. Then they scratched the back of their necks in bemusement, mirroring each other.

Stan froze. Dipper lowered his hand hurriedly.

“Okay, this is gettin’ weird,” Stan said after a pause. He retook his hold on Dipper’s suitcase and stood with both their luggage. They followed as he strode perhaps a bit quicker than necessary back to the shack, the thought briefly crossing Dipper’s mind to make a break for the forest before it was dismissed. He was getting more curious about Stan, which . . . kind of undermined his strength of cynical conviction.

They were in a crowded giftshop. Tourists milled about near clothes racks and counters, fawning over snow globes and souvenirs. Stan grinned and talked and gestured grandly, upping prices with practiced ease. Dipper had to admit that his guts were impressive – he was certain that no snow globe could be worth eighty dollars, no matter how well-made or “one-of-a-kind” (despite there being another twenty on the same shelf). With every gaudy and obviously fake attraction he saw, like the jar of eyeballs on the desk, Dipper became more and more suspicious of the creature he’d seen outside. It had appeared significantly more . . . real than anything inside so far. The tourists called Stan “Mr Mystery” as he passed. Dipper was beginning to think that name fit him.

They reached the back of the room. The thought that maybe all wasn’t as it seemed was once again entering Dipper’s head. If it was true . . . well, maybe this hopefully-only-a-summer (although if this town was a nesting site for the supernatural, maybe six months wouldn’t be so bad) was going to be a lot more interesting than he’d imagined. Question marks were filling his head.

“Hey, who are you two little doods?” said a friendly voice.

Tweaking the hinges of an “Employees Only” door was a large man with an affable face, a toolkit belted around his waist, and, huh, a question mark across his dark green shirt.

“Hi!” Mabel said brightly, sticking out her hand. “We’re here for an epic summer romance!”

“She’s here for an epic summer romance,” corrected Dipper.

“Our mom dropped us off to live here, in this place specifically, for no discernible reason except that she somehow knew Stan,” Mabel continued happily. “I’m Mabel Pines, and this is my brother Dipper!”

The man laughed, shaking Mabel’s hand. “Oh man, what a coincidence, huh? Mr Pines, they’ve got the same last name as you!”

“Same last name?” Echoed Dipper. He looked narrowly at Stan, who was very interested in the ceiling all of a sudden.

“I’m Soos, by the way, the Mystery Shack’s mysterious handyman – or not really, I guess. If you want real mysteries you’ll probably have to go into the forest,” Soos said amenably.

“Mysteries in the forest?” Dipper repeated, perking up.

“Soos, can I talk to you for a minute?” Stan interrupted, making the request sound more like a demand.

“Sure thing, Mr Pines.” He added to Mabel though, “No discernible reason, huh? Then I’d guess you’re in for some life-changing and probably unexpectedly heart-warming personal revelations. That’s the way it always goes.” He nodded knowledgeably.

“A room, Soos! We’ve got to set up a room for them!” Stan said, some desperation creeping into his voice.

“Oh, sure. Can’t have you sleeping on the floor – unless that’s what’s you like. If that’s not what you like though, we should probably get you some beds. I don’t know if there’s any more in the Shack, actually. But hey, I’m sure Mr Pines’d let you have his bed if it came down to it! After all, you guys have the same last name, and you look a little similar, and your mom knows him, so you’re practically fam-”

“Now, Soos!” Stan quite literally dragged him into the next room, carting away Dipper and Mabel’s bags with him.

Dipper stared at the door, feeling a little bowled-over. He licked his lips.

“Hey Mabel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you . . . do you think Stan’s our da-”

“Probably.”

“Huh,”

Well, I guess that’s one mystery down. Only a hundred more to go.

I wonder if the hawktopus is still out there?

[divabucky]

Starmora Highschool AU

“Hey Gamora.” Peter grinned, leaning against the wall next to his not girlfriend’s locker. Gamora side-eyed him, but couldn’t keep the tiny smile from forming on her usually stoic face.

“Hey Quill.”

“Oh, still not on first name basis, got it. Um,” Peter’s face scrunched up in deep thought. “You know, I just figured since we’ve been friends since like a couple days ago we’d be past that but nope yeah, totally.” He shrugged. “Awesome.”

Jesus the guy talks a lot, Gamora noted. That was already apparent from the moment they were partnered together for their physics project and he proposed they build a “blowing junk off” grenade. The project was about making a homemade musical instrument, but Gamora would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by the schematics he had drawn out already.

Needless to say, she gave that idiot her phone number.

“I’m guessing you didn’t come here to talk about how we address each other, though.” Gamora said coolly. 

Peter’s face instantly lit up and he straightened his posture. “Right! Right. There was something I had wanted to ask you.” 

Gamora ignored her increasing heart beat and continued to put her books in her locker, waiting to hear what Peter had to say. There was no way he would ask her out so soon. He didn’t even know her that well and neither did Gamora know him that well, but anything could happen and she wouldn’t exactly say no to him-

“We didn’t have any homework last night right? I don’t remember anything Mr. Stark said yesterday; that dude just goes on and on and on. I just tune his voice out by this point.”

Gamora closed her eyes for a second, gathering all the patience she had left in her and willing herself to not punch this guy in the face. With gritted teeth, she pulled her physics notebook from her bag and ripped out the homework that had been assigned. However, in her fury, she had managed to tear only half of it out and she pointedly offered it to Peter with a glare.

“Here you go.”

Peter’s smile slightly faltered and he laughed nervously as he took the shredded paper. “Th-thanks, man.” 

Gamora slammed her locker shut, making the boy jump. She felt a bit bad upon seeing that, and her expression softened as she looked at him. She sighed. “It wasn’t much, really. Just give it back to me before class starts.”

“Oh, yeah okay, thanks!” Peter’s eyes twinkled with gratitude. Gamora smiled and nodded. 

She picked up her book bag but as she turned to leave, she felt Peter’s hand on her arm, stopping her. She looked back, questioning. 

With a sheepish look on his face, Peter spoke, “Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask you. I heard about this party, I think the Thor dude in our class is throwing it, you know, the tall, ugly guy not that muscular kind of a dick-”

Gamora raised her eyebrow.

“But anyways, I was just wondering if you’d want to maybe, go. With me. As a date?” Peter nervously finished, his hopeful expression staring down at Gamora. 

She was, quite frankly, stunned. And Gamora was usually never caught off guard so that made her even more stunned. What was with this idiotically wonderful guy who stumbled into her life?

 “Actually I heard about that party too. Thor told me himself.”

Peter’s eyes widened slightly and he breathed out deeply. “Ooooooooh, okay okay, cool cool cool.” He muttered under his breath and lightly scratched his nose. “Cool cool, great. So like, did he tell you as a friend or...?” He huffed. “Cause you know, awesome. If he did ask you out. But I heard his house is like super gross and dank like just bottom of the barrel nasty and don’t even get me started on his family-”

Gamora laughed. “Peter.”

He stopped talking immediately, eyes now comically wide and hyper attentive. “Yeah?”

“I’m just not really a party type,” Gamora added after seeing Peter’s face fall, “But, I’d love to go out with you sometime.” 

It was like seeing a kid on Christmas. Peter pumped his fist and wooped softly, mindful of the students droning around them. “Great! Um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. Uh,” The bell for first period rang. “Shit. I’ll text you!” Peter started walking backwards. “See ya!” He turned and hurried to class.

Gamora stood there for a moment, still processing what had just happened. Finally she scoffed, shaking her head, and started walking in the same direction Peter went.

The fucking idiot forgot they had first period together.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Be My Baby Part 7

Summary: Charlotte goes by Charlie in the summer of 1963. Sebastian works at the resort her family is staying at. He teaches her how to dance.

Chapter Summary: Sebastian teaches Charlie a few ballroom dance moves. 

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, I think that’s it

Chapter 7: Get Ready

(I’m in Greece atm and I may or may not have had too many glasses of alcohol the night before. So if there’s anything fucked with this chapter, let me know. I started it sober and ended drunk. woop)

I never met a girl who makes me feel the way that you do. 

           The next morning, I had to pinch myself to remember that the kiss with Sebastian was real. I glanced over and realized my sister was already out for the day. I jumped up quickly and got dressed. I actually took a moment to fix my unruly curls and grabbed my sister’s mascara to apply a few swipes.

           I swung the cabin door open with a new sense of confidence. So much so, that I didn’t realize someone was standing by the cabin.

           “In a rush to see someone?”

           I nearly fell down the stairs when I heard Sebastian taunt me. I glared and carefully made my way down without falling. “You can’t scare me like that.”

           He chuckled and glanced around. When he deemed the coast to be clear, he wrapped an arm around my waist so he could kiss me.

           Instantly, I could taste nicotine on his lips. It was sour but oddly intoxicating. I wondered if it was because he was the one kissing me. “I thought I told you, smoking’s bad for you,” I said when we pulled away.

           He winced. “Habits are hard to break.” He tugged me to his side as we started to walk up the path.

           “I mean do you even know what’s in them?”

           “Nope, I’d rather not know.”

           I frowned. “Ignorance is not bliss.”

           He smiled and shook his head. “Depends on the situation.”

           The rest of the day, I spent some time with my family but kept my eye on the clock. I wanted to make sure I was around for Sebastian’s breaks. Every so often he’d walk by and send a wink my way. I blush and try to keep listening to my sister.

           “Chris said we could do something together on his day off,” Laurie said as she whacked the birdie back over to my side of the badminton net.

           I groaned as I tried to reach it in time. I nearly fell on my face trying to extend my racquet out. But the birdie fell flat and I had to pick it up and serve again. “What are you going to do?” I asked. I didn’t mind talking to Laurie about Chris. Now that I could see her point of view of being head over heels, her delusions sort of made sense. I only wished I could talk to her about my relationship and get some advice.

           “Maybe he’ll kiss me.” Laurie squealed as she hit the birdie back over. “Do you think he’ll kiss me?”

           I almost stumbled over my feet trying to return the lob. I cursed under my breath when I came up short again. “I don’t know, Laurs, maybe.” I shrugged and served. “He seems to really like you.”

           She smiled. “You know, Charlie, you’re in a much better mood today.”

           “I guess I’m just starting to like it here.” I let a smile play on my lips as I thought of Sebastian.

           “Hi, dad, hi, mom.” Laurie waved to my parents as they walked by with their golf bags.

           “Look at you two getting along.” My father remarked. "I think this vacation was one of the best ideas for this family." He said proudly. "My two girls are actually being friendly.

           “Dad, do you have the time?” I asked.

           “Sure, Charlie-Bear.” He pushed his sleeve up to glance at his watch. “It’s almost noon.”

           “Okay, thanks. Laurie, I’ve gotta go, I’ll be back.” I promised and dropped my racquet.

           “What?” Laurie pouted. “But I was winning!”

           “We’ll pick up where we left off,” I said and started to make my way back to the hotel.

            I walked behind the main building and Sebastian fell into step with me. “You’re not very good at badminton either.”

           I rolled my eyes and nudged him. “I’m good at dancing.” I reminded him, which he chuckled and nodded. “Do you have your lunch break now?” I asked.

           “Yep, half an hour.” He wrapped an arm around me. “C’mon,” He led me up a set of stairs to a smaller building.

           “What’s in here?” I asked as he peeked in the window.

           “Dance studio. Scarlett gives private lessons here.” He answered. “It’s empty now.” He checked the door and it was unlocked. “Alright, I want to teach you some ballroom dancing.”

           “Really?” I looked surprised.

           “Sure, it might be fun.” He turned the lights on and found a stereo in the corner.

           “Where did you learn to dance?”

           “Scarlett will teach me a step every so often just for the fun of it.”

           “Okay then, what’s my first lesson?” I shifted my weight back and forth between my feet.

           Sebastian turned on some music that sounded a lot like the type he played at dinners. He walked over to me. “Stand up straight.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Stand with confidence.” Then he tilted my chin up. “Eyes always on me.”

           “How will I know where I’m stepping?” I was a little skeptical.

           “Trust that I’ll lead you.” He smiled. “Okay, so when I step back, you step forward. But don’t go until two.”

           “What?” I was beyond confused.

           “Just try, ready? One…”

           Purely on instinct, and still confused, I lurched forward and stepped on Sebastian’s foot.

           “Two…” He winched. “Never step on one.”

           “Sorry. Are you okay?” I asked, feeling terrible.

           “I’m fine.” He shook it off. “Let’s go again.”

           It took a few times but we found our rhythm, even if it was a little choppier than usual.

           “Eyes up.”

           “Arms firm.”

           “Keep your shoulders back.”

           I kept tripping up as I tried to listen to every little thin Sebastian told me. After two songs, I stopped and huffed out of frustration. “You’re too tough.” I protested.

           He shook his head. “You should see Scarlett. She’s strict. She was a ballerina in Russia when she was sixteen.”

           “Oh, wow…what happened?”

           “She escaped just like me. Communism was getting worse but there didn’t seem to be an end to it. Now she teaches dance here.” He shrugged. "People are afraid to hire immigrants from the USSR. They're worried they're spies for communism." He rolled his eyes. "The level of fear in this world is unbelievable sometimes."

           “Well, I’m glad you came here,” I said quietly. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that but I’m glad I met you.”

           Sebastian smiled at me. “Alright, enough with this boring stuff. Let’s let loose.” He went back to the stereo and switched tapes.

           “Will you teach me more fancy moves?” I asked.

           “What do you want to learn?” He wrapped his arms around my waist as the music changed again.

           “What do you call it when the woman jumps and the guy catches her?” I rested my hands on the nape of his neck and swayed with him to the new song.

           “A lift?”

           “Sure.”

           “Oh, I dunno. I’ve never done that. I think Scarlett has though. Maybe you can ask her.”

           “But I want to do it with you.”

           “You’re hard to say no to.” He chuckled and spun me around. But he didn’t bring me full circle. He stopped me with his hands on my hips so I was facing away from him. I could see us in the mirror and for a moment I couldn’t believe it was me.

           Sebastian ran a hand up my arm and lifted it so I reached back. My fingers found his hair and I lightly brushed up against his temple. He grazed his fingertips back down my arm and I squirmed a little. I giggled as his touch tickled me. He laughed softly and I could see him smiling in the mirror. He tilted his head and exhaled softly over my neck.

           Goosebumps covered my arms as we started to sway again. He focused a little more on my neck, though, as he kissed and lightly nibbled at my pulse point. I bit back a small moan and leaned against his chest, feeling his hips against mine.

           We were only lost for a moment before we heard someone open the door to the studio. Sebastian and I quickly put a reasonable distance between us.

           In walked a young man in business casual clothing. “Sebastian, what are you doing in here?” He gave him a stern look.

           For a moment, Sebastian seemed to freeze up. So I quickly jumped in. I had been getting better at lying it seemed. “He was helping me look for my hair barrette.”

           “Oh…” The man seemed to buy it purely on the fact that I was a guest. “My apologies. Did you find it yet?”

           “No, I must’ve lost it somewhere else. Thank you,” I turned to Sebastian, “for helping me though.”

           He cleared his throat. “Of course, miss.”

           “Sebastian, where’s Scarlett?” The man asked as we began to leave the studio. “She has a lesson here and she knows she must always arrive five minutes beforehand.” He checked the expensive watch on his wrist.

           “I don’t know, Michael.”

           “Why don’t you go track her down then?” He replied impatiently.

           Sebastian sighed and nodded down the path. “She’s right there.”

           Michael turned. “Ah, Scarlett, so nice of you to join us.”

           Scarlett’s face went sour when she saw the dark-haired man. “Alright, Michael, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” She hoisted a duffle bag further up her shoulder and walked past him.

           “Watch your tone.”

           She rolled her eyes and stomped up the stairs past Sebastian and me. “I was two minutes late.”

           “You should always be on time.”

           “You know what, Michael,” She spun around to glare at him. “You’re not my boss. You don’t own this place yet.” She snapped.

           Michael squared off against her. “And when I do, I know the first person who’s going to be fired.”

           She narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure your dad would love to hear that you fired the resort’s best dance instructor.”

           “It won’t matter what he thinks.”

           “I have class, Mikey, run along.” She hissed. “No one’s afraid of you.”

           Michael’s jaw tightened but it seemed like he didn’t want to make more of a scene in front of a guest. “Charlie, would you like me to escort you back to the hotel?” His voice was still tense.

           “Oh, uh…no thank you. I was going to ask Scarlett for a lesson.” I said, a little shaken by the encounter.

           “Very well. She will for as long as she still works here.” He replied sharply and turned to leave.

           “Asshole,” Scarlett muttered and walked into the studio with us following her.

           “Who was that?”

           “Michael, Robert’s eldest son,” Sebastian answered and leaned against the doorframe.

           “He must be back from another booze-filled romp around Europe,” Scarlett grumbled as she walked around the studio, preparing for her class. “No wonder it was so calm here. Now we get to listen to why women deserve to be barefoot and pregnant and why segregation is a good thing.” She spat. “He’s disgusting.”

           “At least Robert treats us like humans, Michael only respects rich white men like him,” Sebastian grumbled.

           I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “And he’ll own the resort?”

           “One day…I guess.”

           “Not if I have anything to do with it. He’s only picking on me because he tried hooking up with me and I told him no.” She made a face. “Even I liked men I still wouldn’t touch him.” She sighed and looked around with her hands on her hips. That’s when she noticed the stereo was still playing music, something Michael hadn’t realized.

           “What were you two doing in here?”

           Sebastian and I both blurted out different answers.

           “Looking for her barrette.”

           “Dancing.”

           We looked at each other in disbelief.

           “I thought you said we could trust her!”

           “She has a big mouth!”

           Scarlett just laughed and brushed us off. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Just as long as you two weren’t fucking in my studio.”

           “Scarlett!”

           “Oh, my God…no we weren’t!”

           She cracked up even more at our reactions. “I’m just kidding, geez, you two are so cute.”

           Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Charlotte wants to learn how to do a lift.” He changed the subject quickly. “Would you teach us?”

           “Really?” She looked impressed. “Ambitious, but okay. I’ll teach you, sure.”

           “Awesome.” I brightened up. “So do we just have to book studio time or…”

           “Oh no, we’ll have to start next Saturday when we all go to the lake.”

           “The lake? Why?”

Masterpost

[looselucy]

November

I walked out of my Thursday lecture with a spring in my step, still incredibly happy that thanks to my schedule, I always had a four day weekend, only actually expected in uni on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I did have to try not to think about how much I was paying simply to do those 3 days a week, because that would ruin the whole thing.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and rang Zayn straight away, hugging my coat tight around me, the weather as shocking as always, drizzle soaking me through. “Alright!” Zayn beamed down the phone. “You need some booze? I’m going to the shop now, I’ll pick you some up.” “Yes! A bottle of vodka, please.” “No worries. Okay, I’ll see you soon.” “WAIT!” He yelled. “What?” “Guess who I’ve just met?” “Who?” I quizzed. “New boy.” I hadn’t had an interaction with him since the morning / afternoon before, when I first met him. He had stayed locked in his room, not coming out to introduce himself or make any kind of effort with anyone. It was safe to say, I had a bad impression of him from the get go. “Really?” “Yeah. He seemed alright. I invited him to drink with us tonight but I don’t think he’s up for it.” “Maybe he doesn’t drink.” I tried to have his back, for some reason. “Nah I asked him that. Said he does.” I scoffed out loud and rolled my eyes, because to me it just sounded like he couldn’t be arsed making any effort with us, and if that was how he was going to be, I would do the same to him. “Fuck him then.” I replied. “If he doesn’t wanna get involved I’m not gunna put in any effort. He seems like a bit of an arse to me.” “I think he seems sound.” I knew Zayn was just excited to have another lad around. He got on well enough with Mike, but the two of them weren’t really similar. Zayn, even though he was a lads-lad, had ended up developing closer friendships with the girls he lived with. And I think he was excited to have another boy around. “Did you find out his name?” I grinned. “Umm, no. Sorry.” “Oh for fuck sake.” I groaned. “I needed to know beforehand so I could have time to like... think up some snotty comment about it. Something witty. You have been absolutely zero help with my plan, Zayn.” “Sorry, but he like, started asking about my tattoos and we got chatting and I didn’t even think!” God, it was ridiculous how utterly desperate I was just to make some stupid comment about his name, so I could high-five myself and start walking off into the sunset with a massive smile on my face. So I could die happy just knowing I had made fun of his name. But I was never too good at thinking up comebacks on the spot. I needed time to mentally prepare myself and think up something hilarious, so everyone could laugh with me and what’s-his-name could cringe for the rest of his life. Zayn was not helping me. “Woops.” He chuckled. “That’s my new name for you. Zero help Zayn.” “You’re a pain in the arse!” “Right, I’ll be back soon. Whack the kettle on.” I groaned. “Don’t forget my vodka, Pain In The Arse Pippa.” “Fuck off!” I laughed, before swiftly hanging up. + + + Myself and Tally sat expertly doing our makeup on my bedroom floor, using the mirror on the back of my door to prepare ourselves for the evening ahead, hair done and outfits on, almost ready. “Y’know, Zayn is dead keen on having this new chap drink with us tonight.” Tally said. “I finally saw him too. You didn’t say he was so fucking fit Pippa!” “Urgh, I know. I’ve been trying to forget about it.” I nearly rubbed over my eyes, forgetting my fresh mascara. “Seriously. He is nice.” It was easier to dislike him when I could forget how nice he was on my tired, hungover eyes that morning, how it looked like I could have cracked a coconut on his fucking abs. “Hm.” I tried not to think about it. “I think we should ask him to drink with us.” “Why?” “Maybe you just got the wrong impression. Or like... maybe he didn’t mean to take the piss. If we spend the night with him, we can all make a good, solid judgment.” I wanted to disagree with her, but she was totally right. I knew I was being dramatic, but that was me through and through, as much as I’d like to deny it, I had always been a pretty dramatic person. So maybe I had misconstrued what he meant a little. Maybe I heard it wrong, and he wasn’t being as snotty as I first thought. It was probably a good idea to give him a second chance. “Suppose.” I sighed. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go invite him.” “Now?” “Yeah yeah yeah. You ready?” She nodded, and we awkwardly stood up, pulling down our dresses as soon as we were on our feet to make sure our bums remained covered. I wasn’t nervous as we approached his door, thankfully. We had shared a few light vodkas in my room whilst we were getting ready, and I was prepared to be nice to him and make the effort. Tally seemed a little more nervous, definitely the type of person who needed a number of drinks in her to be confident around lads that looked like this one. But I was holding up nicely. I knocked loud and chipper on his door, hearing a few scuttles from inside before he opened the door wide, face low, unenthusiastic, looking between both of us like we were mad for being there. And in that moment, I realised even that my first impression was going to stick. “Hi.” I smiled. “We were wondering if you wanted to come out tonight?” His eyebrows dropped even lower, looking us up and down now, a little stuck for a reply, and clearly uninterested by the idea. “I dunno.” He groaned. “Not sure it’s my scene.” “Well, why don’t you come and find out?” I tried my best not to roll my eyes, but the fact he thought he had a scene made it difficult. Zayn walked out of his room, dressed ready for the night, pushing his long hair out of his eyes, greeting the new boy with a slight raise of his chin, which was returned. And I knew it wouldn’t be me who would be able to convince this guy to make some effort with the people he lived with; to actually introduce himself and not be such an arse. Zayn said he had gotten a good impression of him, so if anyone was going to convince him, it would be Zayn. “C’mon, man.” He began his attempts. “I’ll share my vodka.” He looked as though he really didn’t want to. If it was me who had kept asking him, there was no way in hell he would have said yes. I could tell right off he was one of those lads-lads, but not in the same way Zayn was. He was the type who always wanted beers with the lads, and laughs with the lads, and pulling girls with the lads, and it made me cringe. I was really trying not to snort at the whole idea of the boy in front of me. “Alright, I’ll get ready.” He hesitated. He swiftly shut the door in my face, all three of us feeling the gust form the harsh action, stood a little baffled by the interaction. “Prick.” I mumbled, finally rolling my eyes, feeling the relief off my shoulders, having ached to do it. The three of us wandered into the kitchen, Zayn running to be the first to put his phone in the speakers, sticking his fingers up at us and laughing, pleased with himself. He put on music that, unsurprisingly, me and Tally had never heard, but it was perfect to drink to. Hearing noise, Mike jumped out of his room, one of those people who could smell fun from a mile off. “We drinking? We going out?” His eyes lit up, obviously forgetting we’d already invited him that very afternoon. “Yeah.” I giggled over my shoulder, pouring myself and Tally a drink. “Yes!” He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Where we going?” “Guess?” Tally smiled, sinking into the sofa. “Thimble?” “Damn right.” Zayn smirked, taking a big swig of his strong drink. We all went and sat down on the settees, fresh drinks in our hands and our bottles down by our sides, ready to top up our beverages once we had emptied our cups, which would probably happen pretty quickly if we played Ring of Fire, like we always bloody did. Zayn had even poured a drink for the newbie. Only a few minutes after his reluctant acceptance of our invite, new boy walked calmly out of his room. He was wearing a black baggy top (thankfully covering that body, and that stupid tattoo) skinny black jeans, and light tan boots. I could see Tally’s mouth drop from beside me. He pulled out a camping chair we had purchased in our first week here, knowing there just wasn’t enough space for everyone, and I quite enjoyed seeing him sat on a pink chair with butterflies on it, and a little drinks holder, seeming more uncomfortable by the second. “Glad you changed your mind, man.” Zayn reached a hand across to him. “What’s your name?” This is it, I thought. This is my moment. The moment of truth. Come on Pippa, be witty. Think of something quick. Get him good. Humiliate him. Make me proud. “Harry.” He replied, voice stupidly low. “Harry what?” I asked, I needed more to work with. “Harry Styles.” I was aggressively tapping my foot, trying to think of something funny to say, something hilarious and something to belittle him… but there was absolutely no way it was happening. It was a perfectly fine name, nothing could come to my mind quickly enough because his name was... a fucking decent name. I could see Zayn staring at me, egging me to say something quickly before it just got weird, but I had to bite my tongue. I had nothing. “Umm, well I’m Zayn. Malik.” “Mike Jones. The girl hiding in her room is called Ringo. Don’t know her last name, don’t even know if that’s her real first name, to be honest, mate.” Harry chuckled to himself, and then turned to Tally, waiting for her to introduce herself. “I’m Tally Jacobs.” She breathed steadily. He then turned to me quickly, an annoying smirk on his face and I knew he was going to say something that would boil my blood. “What’s your name again?” He looked me up and down. “I can’t remember what it was, I just remember it was funny.” “Pippa Payne.” I shot him daggers. “Fucking hell!” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Gutted.” Everyone was awkward. Zayn even cleared his throat, for fuck sake. Mike downed his drink in about two seconds and Tally was just staring at Harry, now understanding why I’d gotten such a bad impression of him. “What the fuck is your problem?” I gawped. “Nowt.” He held is hands up in surrender. “Just... your mum must have been fucked on morphine when she named you that.” “And your mum must have thought of the most typical name she could, for a typical, boring, bog-standard, British twat.” That just made him laugh more, clutching at his stomach, probably liking that he had gotten a rise out of me. “Least there’s not alliteration in my name.” He raised his drink to me proudly, before downing it all. If I could have gotten away with smacking him in the face without everyone there thinking I had completely lost my mind, I genuinely would have done. I hated him. Never before had I come to such a quick conclusion about anyone, but with him my mind was firmly made up. I think a part of it was the fact he was so clearly trying to wind me up. It reminded me of being younger, having an older brother and dad who knew exactly how to piss me off, they were bloody experts and they did it at every given opportunity. Thankfully, over the years they had grown out of picking on me, and I was bloody grateful for it. I hated it. Some lad that had stormed into my life, someone I was going to have to live with, who was clearly getting a kick out of pissing me off as much as he could. I shouldn’t have reacted to him, really. It probably would have put a stop to it right then, but I couldn’t help myself. I topped up my coke with more vodka, feeling his eyes on me and a smirk on his mouth, and he knew from the start I was the perfect target for him. “So, what you studying?” Zayn asked Harry, trying to move the conversation on. “Photography.” He answered. I would have taken the piss out of him, but I probably would have taken photography myself if my parents hadn’t told me it wasn’t worth a degree, that I should stick to something solid like English and just enjoy taking photos on the side. Truth be told I hadn’t bothered to take any since they told me to forget it. “Nice, man. I do art.” Zayn replied. Harry looked next to Mike, obviously wanting to go around the group again, and I suppose I was just surprised he was showing interest in any of us. “Me and Tally do theatre.” Mike told him. “How about you P.P?” He grinned. P.P. Like pee-pee. The guy should have been taking a degree on how to grind on my nerves. He’d pass with flying colours. “English.” I told him glumly. He didn’t say anything snarky, he just curved his lips downwards, shrugged, and raised his eyebrows. Unfazed, uninterested. Everyone did interesting subjects to do with the arts in our flat, other than me. Ringo, unsurprisingly, was doing music. For the first time since I’d moved in, I felt boring, and I knew Harry was thinking that too, but even he wasn’t that rude, to just come right out and say it. The look on his face said it all. “Any-fucking-way,” Mike clapped his hands together. “This conversation is boring as shit. I say we drink and talk about interesting things, like other times we’ve been drunk... And stories about drinks and... anything other than fucking uni, ‘cause I’m definitely not going to my lecture tomorrow.” “Cheers to that!” Harry raised his glass again, in the direction of Zayn and Mike, pretty much ignoring me and Tally. + + + “You’re drunk!” Zayn shouted in my ear. “Am not!” I yelled back. “Yes you are!” He poked my stomach playfully. I tried to pretend that didn’t make me feel like I was going to throw up, but it definitely did, probably because I was as drunk as Zayn had been telling me I was. Why I felt the need to deny it every time, I’ll never know. I was happy to admit the morning after how much of a mess I was, but when it actually came to someone pointing it out to me in the peak of my drunkness, I was all up for pretending I was as sober as a judge. “I’m not! I’ve not even hardly even drank anything. You’re drunk.” I scoffed. “I love you.” He yelled. “I love you more!” We had to yell. It was loud, and we were stood in the middle of the dancefloor declaring our love for one another. I knew me and Tally were always going to be close, we were girly-girls and we worked well together. But me and Zayn had something a little more special. I knew out of everyone, now that Grace had gone, I would be closest with him. “Are you two fucking?” We heard. I turned around, stumbling forward and knocking my forehead into Harry’s chest, before stumbling back, Zayn catching my shoulders to try and keep me steady. “She’s my best fucking mate!” Zayn pointed aggressively. “My best... My best friend.” Harry looked me up and down, and I knew he didn’t expect me to best friends with Zayn. Zayn was all tattoos and long hair and totally, undoubtedly interesting. He just was. I was a pretty typical girl. I got drunk easily, cried a lot, liked wearing dresses and doing my hair and makeup for a night out and giggling about boys with girls. Maybe to look at, we weren’t matched to be best mates, but in other ways, we totally were. We were similar and we connected well. We were best mates. And I knew that. So I stuck my middle finger up at Harry, before he could say anything else. He ignored me, and talked directly to Zayn. “I got the tabs.” “Sound, man! Let’s do it.” Zayn replied eagerly. Harry looked around him for some reason, probably not realising that we were in the grottiest club this town had to offer, and no one would bat an eye at them taking drugs in the middle of the dancefloor. Everyone other than me. It didn’t surprise me that Zayn was into that kind of thing, I think he had mentioned it briefly before, but I certainly hadn’t seen it. Harry handed a small, pink pill over to Zayn. I kept my eyes on the curly haired prick as he stuck his tongue out, and placed a pill on it, staring right back at me as he tucked his tongue back into his mouth, raising his eyebrows as though he had just accomplished something. “You want one, P.P?” “Nope. Not from you.” I scowled. Not that I would have taken drugs from anyone else, it totally wasn’t my thing. I had once taken some kind of MDMA at college and I thought I was the queen of the world, yet woke up remembering very little, in the middle of a puddle down some street near my old home, alone and lost and totally vulnerable. Never to be repeated. The only reason I got through that come-down was because Timmy-Two, my dog, must have sensed that I wasn’t all there, and he stayed sat on my lap all day. “You scared?” He asked me. “No!” I growled. “You are.” “I’m not fucking scared!” “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to call you Pip-Squeak from now on. Suits your personality more. You scared, Pip-Squeak?” “Are you really trying to manipulate me? Like, is this peer pressure? Are we twelve?” He chuckled, before opening his mouth wide, revealing how empty it was to me, like he thought I would be impressed by his idiotic ways. I was sad Zayn was going along with it. Especially drunk. When I was drunk, it was like Zayn was choosing Harry over me. Totally not the case, I realised at a later date, but in that moment Zayn may as well have skipped off hand in hand with Harry, singing ‘make friends make friends never never break friends’’ leaving me in a pool of my own tears, in the middle of Thimble. “ZEE!” We all turned around to where the yell of one of Zayn’s nicknames came from, and my heart fluttered seeing the lad I had met on Monday night in the same place. “LOU-LOU!” Zayn cupped his mouth for dramatic effect. They shared a hug again, and he was all smiles and friendliness and I wished that it was him who had moved in with us, rather than the complete arsehole whose new life aim was to make me furious. Louis turned to me, drunk and fascinating to look at, another boy who somehow had a tan even though we lived in the UK, in the bloody North of the UK. “The Crier.” He addressed me with a smile. “That’s me.” I smiled back, wishing to sober up to impress him. “What?” Harry chortled from beside us. “You get pissy with me for calling you Pip-Squeak, and this kid walks in calling you The Crier and you’re swooning? You two are definitely fucking.” I looked over to Louis, and I was happy to see him looking Harry up and down with a displeased look. He then pointed a finger towards him, and turned to Zayn. “Who the fuck is this?” “Shit.” The effect of whatever Zayn had taken was hitting him fast, but he just seemed drowsy. “This is Harry. Umm. Shit. I forgot your last name, bro.” “Styles.” ”You’re Harry Styles?” Louis gawped. I groaned, thinking I’d done it quietly but it came out extremely loud, because the fact Louis knew his name lead me to believe they’d be fast friends. “Yeah.” Harry looked confused. “You got kicked out of our halls!” Louis beamed. “I heard about what you did! Nice work, man.” “Cheers.” Harry smirked. I was bitterly disappointed as the two lads started shaking hands, and I ignored them as they sparked up a conversation, turning around to face Zayn, who was dancing on his spot with his eyes shut tight. “You’re my best friend!” I slurred, poking his chest. “Mine.” He went to bite my finger, laughing away to himself, and I knew no matter how fucked he was he would never try to bite Harry’s finger, even if he really, really wanted to. He was my best friend. I turned around in time to see Louis reject a pill from Harry, which made me like him all the more. I grabbed hold of his shoulder, hoping it wasn’t a rude way to grab his attention, but I was drunk and it was done. “You want a drink?” I asked, even though it was not a wise idea. “Only if I’m buying.” He smirked at me. I was almost sure he’d just flirted with me. But he couldn’t have done. He was just being nice. A nice boy with a nice face. I was fucked. “Yeah. Um. Okay.” I spluttered. I guess that did sober me up a bit. Any attention I ever got from boys, if any, went unnoticed unless a boy automatically grabbed my attention. I’d never been the type to settle for any boy on a night out. But most boys that caught my eye, I failed to catch theirs. I had a slight inkling in that moment that maybe, I had caught Louis’ eye. And that terrified me. He ticked his head towards the bar, revealing a devilish grin to me. Honestly, I don’t really remember anything after that drink. + + + I had made it to my bed. That was the first thing I thought when I woke up the morning after. Grateful, so, so grateful, that I was in my bed. Even if it was a rubbish, rock hard, single bed. At least it was a bed, and I was in it. I then realised what had made me wake up, after a second set of knocks went off against my bedroom door. “Come in!” My voice failed me. “I can’t it’s locked.” I heard Zayn on the other side. “Don’t make me get out of bed!” “Come on. I need to go to my lecture in like five minutes!” He knocked again. “I can’t move. I want to, honestly. My day would be off to a flying start seeing your face Zayn-” “You’re a sarcastic little shit.” He huffed. “- but that involves moving. Something that I am not capable of right now.” I could hear him mumbling that he hated me over and over again, possibly lightly banging his forehead against the door. I smiled to myself, enjoying the reaction I was getting from him. “Fine.” He eventually huffed. “I guess we won’t discuss the fact you kissed Louis last night.” I practically fell out of bed, before running over to the door, nearly colliding head first with it before I twisted the lock and swung the door open, seeing that stupid grin on his face because he knew that was going to work. “I did what now?” I gawped. “I knew you wouldn’t remember.” “Did I really?” “Yeah.” “Holy. Shit.” I had kissed Louis. I was the Queen of the world knowing that. I didn’t remember it. It was probably awful and based on vodka rather than attraction but I just thought I was the greatest person in the world. My hangover was practically cured. “You were a mess.” Zayn chortled. “You’re one to talk, Mr Drugs.” “I don’t turn down free drugs, Pip. This is something you should learn about me.” It had shocked me how common drugs were as soon as I went to uni, how common it was for people to be using them and for it to be this completely casual thing, rather than a big deal like it had been only a few, short, innocent years before. They were everywhere. And everyone took them. “I’m well proud of myself.” I leaned against the doorframe. “Do you remember what you said to Harry?” He asked me next. “What? No! Why? Shit! What did I say?” I knew it was going to be bad, something I should have kept to myself, because I didn’t have a positive word to say about him. “I dunno.” Zayn now hushed his tone. “Something along the lines of being an arrogant prick, to stay away from you. And you were all like, you’re not my type of person and I’m not yours so lets keep it at that.” I cringed. I meant every word but that didn’t mean they needed to be said. It made me just as bad as him, if not worse. “That’ll be nice and awkward.” I cursed myself. “You’re telling me, mate!” He puffed. “Right. I’ve gotta go. It’s just a drawing session, so I’ll only be a couple of hours then I’m gunna cook for everyone.” “You’re my favourite.” I pinched his cheek. “Fuck off!” He swatted my hand away. “Reyt, I’ll see you in a bit.” “Would you-” “Yes. I’ll ask Louis about it. And let him know you’re amazing, blah blah.” “Love you.” I cooed. He rolled his eyes and flipped me off over his shoulder as he let himself out of the flat, always choosing to bob down the stairs rather than take the lift, something I would never understand. Almost on cue, I heard a lock, that was uncomfortably close, unlocking. Harry let himself out of the room next to mine, his room, eyed me up and down once, before walking up to the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder just to bring my hangover back, and to make me like him even less. “You look like shit, Pip-Squeak.”

[welovekpopscenarios]

Coincidence (Jimin x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Hi could you do a jimin fanfic or something?? Where she has a one night stands with jimin and has feelings for him and in the morning she realise he is her new teacher. Xxxxx

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, drinking

Word Count: 4275 (woops)

Authors Note: Some smut for Jimin (my first bias before Jungkook snatched me lmao). I hope you enjoy it and that it was as good as you asked for! I got a bit carried away lol, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Let me know if there are errors, feedback is appreciated, and happy reading! ^^

 - PART 2 -

 - PART 3 -

 - BONUS - 

You shouldn’t be here. You’re a diligent student, and just because it was spring break, that did not mean you intended on breaking your nightly routines to go out to a bar with your friend when college started again the very next day. Plus, if the rumours were true and your lecturer finally went on maternity leave, you had a new professor in class. And appearing hungover, late, or otherwise disorderly was not how you wanted to make your first impression.

Like you said, you were a diligent student.

But your friends weren’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N! You’ve been stuck inside studying since spring break started! What’s the harm in letting loose?” your friend asked you, desperation in her eyes, hoping you’ll finally come out to a bar with her.

“I happen to enjoy studying, thank you!” you retort, although you know deep down that’s not true. Not necessarily. You just…you’ve always been apprehensive about going out, not enjoying the crowds or the mess of drunken idiots, preferring to stay in the comfort of your apartment by yourself, not feeling lonely and miserable about being slightly anti-social.

Definitely not.

Your friend gave a scoff bordering on disbelief and outrage, and rolled her eyes.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Y/N. But one night won’t ruin your studies,” she elaborated, and took hold of your hands, getting down on her knees, resorting to begging you and guilt flooded you.

“Please, please, Y/N. Just this once! I’ll do your makeup and hair and give you clothes to wear! It’s just this once, and if you don’t like it, you can head back home and never come out again. Just for tonight. Pleeeeeaaaaasssseeee?” she pleaded.

“I…I don’t know,” you answered, still hesitant to go out to the bar with her, insecurities making their way to the surface.

“As I said, you can go home whenever you want,” she replied, knowing you were on the verge of giving, and she had to make her final argument. “Just stay an hour, and if you still don’t want to be there, you can forget about the whole night and go to bed.”

You stared at her for a few moments, weighing your options. One night couldn’t hurt, right? You might have fun, and even you know yourself you need to head outside and actually make memories, instead of wasting your life away studying. With that in mind, you nodded your head slowly and sighed.

“Alright, fine. One night, since you offered to do my makeup and hair. And I’m going back to my apartment straight away if things get too rough,” you warned, watching as her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree they put up in the middle of the city each year. She jumped up and down on the spot and brought you into a hug that squeezed the air out of your lungs, exclamations leaving her lips rapidly, causing you to struggle to keep up with what she was saying. The most you could grasp was it was going to be “such a fun night!”, and “you’re going to look so pretty”, and “maybe you’ll even find a man!”

Yeah right. Good luck with that one.

-

After being primped and primed and all dolled up hours later, you find yourself in one of the local bars found just outside the campus, one that students frequent often, known for its cheap booze and comfortable atmosphere. A popular spot for students looking to let loose after a taxing week of college.

You feel so out of place among the rowdy throng of drunken twenty-something year olds and boisterous laughter seeping through the pub. You probably stick out like a sore thumb, the quietest patron to be seen in the lounge at near half ten at night. Despite your attempts at making conversation with the group of people your friend gravitated towards once you entered the bar, you find yourself feeling slightly isolated, too quiet to re-join or keep up with the conversation. So you excused yourself, not that anyone really noticed, and headed towards an empty spot at the bar. You were already here, might as well order something.

The bartender caught your eyes and turned to serve you, wiping down the countertop with a rag as he does so.

“What can I get ya?”

At this, you pause. You had no idea what to order. You weren’t much of a drinker, and when you did drink it was usually given to you by a friend. What the hell were you supposed to order?

“Uh…,” you flounder, mouth opening and closing while the bartender waited with a bemused expression. You were too caught up in your momentary lapse of panic that you never noticed the pair of dark eyes from beside you regarding the scene with an amused look painted across his face.

After another moment of silence, in which the bartenders face morphed from a look of bemusement to impatience and you panicked even more, a voice broke through and ordered on your behalf.

“Just get her a martini,” the voice orders, and you turn to look at the person who saved you from embarrassing yourself further.

A man, somewhere near your age, with dark hair, parted down the middle, allowing his face to be fully on show, gives you a smile so beautiful it makes you near weak at the knees, his eyes disappearing as they nearly closed from his own grin. Dressed in a pair of black ripped jeans and a loose white shirt, it was enough to get butterflies erupting in your stomach despite having looked at him for a total of ten seconds.

He must have mistaken your silence for hesitation, because he was speaking up once again as you gawked at him.

“Don’t worry, a martini is sweet. It tastes nice. Doesn’t have much alcohol either. Should be ok for you,” he beamed, before it fell and his eyes grew wide. “Unless you wanted something with more alcohol. I just assumed, you don’t look the type to drink much.”

You giggled as his face appeared fretful at the possibility of offending you, and shook your head.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not much of a drinker, and I really didn’t know what to order,” you gave a light laugh at that, “I probably should have thought it through first before coming up here.”

The man laughed a sweet laugh, one which filled you with comfort and did little to stop the storm of butterflies in your tummy.

“It’s ok, we all have to start somewhere,” he stuck his hand out towards you and you took it, feeling a calloused hand beneath yours. “I’m Jimin,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you responded, your hand going slack, ready to let his go but his grip remained for a moment before eventually letting go, grinning widely at you all the while.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he declared, and you tried not to openly blush at how nice your name sounded from his lips, and instead focused on the countertop with a shy smile. You almost forgot about the drink that was ordered until it was placed in front of you, and before you could pay for it, Jimin had already done so, handing the cash to the bartender before you had the chance to object, turning to face you with a cheeky grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You really didn’t have to, Jimin,” you protested, but he waved your concerns away.

“It’s fine, really. It’s the least I could do since I ordered the drink for you,” he argued, and his grin turned into a slight smirk as he made eye contact with you, biting his lip. “Besides, I didn’t expect to be buying a drink for a pretty girl, yet here I am.”

And here you were, blood rushing up to your face as you laughed nervously and smiled timidly back at him.

-

That was how you spent the next few hours in the bar, chatting and awkwardly trying to flirt back with Jimin, who just laughed kindly at your attempts, finding amusement in it and enjoying your company.

The more you talked with Jimin and got to know him, the more you fell for him. You’re not the type to fall for someone so quickly, that was just stupid, but there was something inexplicably alluring about Jimin, and like a rope he controlled and wrapped around you, he pulled you in until you couldn’t escape.

You found you had a lot in common with him, from the little things such as agreeing that the smell of a new book was one of the best smells, to topics such as movies and ‘who would win in a fight? Captain America or Master Chief?’ (that one had been quite the debate).

The first time a long time, you never felt as connected to someone in your lifetime as you did with Jimin in a single night. And that scared you. Especially since when this night draws to a close, you and Jimin will part ways, never to see each other again. And for him to have made such an impact on you and your heart in just a few hours was frightening.

Deep in conversation, giving full attention to Jimin as if he commanded it, you almost missed the text you received, if the buzz hadn’t been so prominent against your thigh in the pocket of your jeans. Shooting an apologetic glance in Jimin’s direction for the interruption, he simply sent you and amiable smile and waited until you were finished. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you almost gasped aloud when you looked at the time. 01:23am. Clicking into the text, you noticed it was sent by your friend – the friend you completely neglected (and forgot about) all night when you had been distracted by a mysterious stranger. Reading the text she sent, your eyebrows crawled further up your forehead the more you read. Apparently, she had left around half an hour ago, electing to leave you with ‘Mr Handsome’, since this was the most interaction you’ve had in forever with someone other than herself, and that you have to tell her everything about him in the morning in class.

That’s right, you had class tomorrow. And it’s late. And now you have no way home, since she was your ride.

Shit.

Jimin must have noticed something was off, maybe it was the look of dumbstruck horror on your face, because he placed a hand on your arm (god his hands were so warm and it felt so nice on your skin), and asked if everything was alright.

You grimaced and tucked your phone back into your pocket.

“My friend…she left,” you explained, mind running a mile a minute, wondering where the nearest taxi rank was and how much you’d have to cough up for the fare. “She was my only ride back to my apartment, and I have to get up early,” you laughed awkwardly, absentmindedly rubbing your hand up and down your arm.

“Oh…” Jimin frowned, concern flitting across his before it brightened again for a minute. “Well…I could drive you home,” he offered, hastily explaining himself as he saw your eyes widen as wide as plates. “I-I didn’t drink tonight, kinda stupid, coming to bar by yourself and not drinking, but I just came to relax for a bit. So, my car is outside. I c-could drive you home,” he stammered, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as his eyes looked away in uneasiness.

You were about to shoot his offer down, (who takes rides home from strangers like that?), when something stopped you. You liked Jimin. You trusted him, as odd as it sounds, having only known him for a few hours. And you had a gut feeling that you should allow him to take you home tonight. That allowing him to take you home would end up better for both of you.

So you nodded slowly at him, and when he stared at you with raised brows, you nodded firmly, sure in your decision to allow this man to take you home.

A glint of something you could not discern flashed in his eyes before it was gone again, and he was standing up and offering an arm to you, one you took easily and clung to as he led you outside towards his car.

-

After giving him your address, the drive to your apartment was spent in relative silence. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but there was an unknown tension in the air, and it multiplied with every passing glance Jimin gave you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t feel unsafe, as you said, you trusted Jimin, but those glances he snuck at you made you feel as if you were a gazelle, and he a lion, a beast out for its kill. And against your will, it made you clench your legs shut to stop the heat from spreading, an action not lost on Jimin.

Your apartment block came into view, and you sat up straighter, pointing out where he should pull up.

Once he did, however, you couldn’t find it in you to move. Not just yet. And it seemed like Jimin didn’t want you to leave, either. He struggled for something to say, and you sat patiently, facing him in the comfort of his car, the heater warming up your bones.

Jimin stopped trying to come up with something to say, and opted for looking you dead in the eye. He sighed, a crooked smile forming on his face before he leant forward and crashed his lips to yours.

You saw stars. Those butterflies in your stomach that hadn’t gone quiet for the entire even were positively wild now, fighting to break free from you and fly away, bringing your heart with them. You reciprocated the kiss, leaning closer to him, and you felt a hand wander into your hair, angling your head to kiss you better, tongue tracing the seam of your lips.

You granted him access, and he dove in like you were uncharted waters, exploring every inch of you that was possible, tasting all your sweetness. He lead you through the kiss, making moans slip out of your mouth without meaning to, and he swallowed each and every one of them.

The lion had the gazelle in his clutches.

Due to shortage of breath you both separated and stared at each other, cheeks flushed and panting heavily, unable to move your gaze from his obsidian eyes, growing darker with each passing second.

Those same dark eyes passed frequently from your eyes to your lips, licking his own as if to savour the taste of you.

Eventually he spoke. “I guess I should let you get to bed,” he reasoned, hand slipping from your hair, and you missed the warmth it brought you.

You don’t know what possessed you (you do, god you do, you’re just too proud to admit it), but you asked:

“Want to come in?”

And that was what Jimin was waiting for, for in the next second he had his car turned off and locked, an arm wrapped around your waist and peppering kisses down your neck as you struggled to open the door to your apartment. He chuckled at your attempts, massaging your waist with his hands (definitely not helping, Jimin), until you got it open, and you were no sooner in the door before you were pressed against it as it closed, Jimin attacking your neck with needy, slopping kisses, hands roaming your body, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

You moaned and threaded your shaky hands through his sable hair, pulling his head back up for a hungry kiss, one he met with eagerness. You felt a poking at your belly, and realised that Jimin was already hard, so, with confidence flooding your body you grinded against his erection, causing the most melodic moans and groans to tumble from his lips.

He broke away from the kiss with a growl and a smirk plastered against his visage, the hunger in his eyes unfathomable, and you were surprised you didn’t die right then and there.

“Bedroom?” he croaked out, trailing his lips up and down your jaw, nipping every so often.

You pointed in the direction of your room, unable to speak for fear it would be just a moan, and he picked you up with surprising strength, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you towards your room, kicking off your shoes in the meantime.

Once situated in your bedroom, he placed you on the bed and hovered over you, hands groping at your chest through the material of your shirt and you whined, desperate for more contact. Jimin chuckled darkly, and placed his hands underneath your shirt, awaiting your nod before he essentially tore it off, leaving you bare except for the bra you wore. You wish you wore a nicer bra now, embarrassed by the simple polka dot design, and embarrassed about your looks in general, but before you could cover your chest with your hands, Jimin groaned out loud and stared at you in wonderment, murmuring “you’re so beautiful”, causing your face to burn even hotter than before, heart warming at his words.

Jimin smiled an oddly sweet smile at you, different compared to the beast that was unleashed after lurking underneath his skin, and you knew in that moment that you fell very hard for Jimin.

Jimin lowered his and pressed hot kisses to your bust, hands fumbling with the clasp of your bra before he got it, throwing your bra off to the side, leaving you bare chested in front of him. His hands latched onto your breasts, thumbs rolling your nipples and pulling lightly, drawing a sigh from your chest. Jimin tore off his own shirt, and you gawked at the amount of muscles and abs hidden beneath the shirt he wore, a feast for your eyes to gaze upon. You heard a nervous giggle, and looked up to see Jimin looking bashful. Jimin? Bashful? You thought your heart couldn’t burst with adoration for him anymore, but then he did that.

“You’re gorgeous,” you paid a compliment in kind to the one he gave you, and his eyes closed as he gave you the happiest yet most sheepish smile yet. He brought his head level down to yours again, and kissed you passionately, tongue swirling around yours, making your head spin. He grinded into you again, his hands travelling down the expanse of your body to unbutton your jeans and peels them off your legs, swiftly removing your underwear afterwards too. You felt his fingers circle around your clit before they drifted towards you entrance, gathering your wetness onto his digits and you whined into his mouth.

He pushed one finger past your folds until it was knuckle deep in you, curling inwards and making you cry out. He pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding a second one and pressing his thumb down on your bud, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you shut them at the sensation. Jimin moved his lips to the side of your neck and whispered words of encouragement, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you. You felt your orgasm fast approaching, and you whined, wanting to come with him inside you but he insisted, his thumb pressing against you harder and his fingers moving faster, until you felt the knot that was building inside of you snap like a rubber band pulled taut, and you came all over his fingers with a cry of his name, legs shaking and eyes shut tight.

Jimin pulled his fingers out of you once you were down from your high and brought them to his lips, moaning around his digits at the taste of you and heat spread throughout you once again at the sinful sight.

Jimin removed his pants once you started to claw at his belt with hands far too shaky after your first orgasm, and once he was naked you took his member in hand, pumping up and down and he faltered, sighing against your neck as you continued rubbing him.

He lifted your hand off his shaft and kissed the back of your hand, flashing a grateful smile your way before reaching over in the pocket of his jeans for a condom. Ripping the foil open with his teeth, he wrapped his cock, pumping once, twice, before aligning himself to your entrance, sliding his tip up and down your folds before pushing in, stretching you open in the best way possible.

Allowing a moment to breath, he pecked both of your cheeks, hips pulling back and pushing in again, both of you moaning in unison as he repeated the action over and over again, setting a steady pace. The room was filled with nothing buts pants and moans, the slapping of skin on skin resonating throughout your apartment. You could feel that coil in your stomach build again, your breathing shallowing, before Jimin spoke in your ear.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, baby.”

Your hand trailed down your body before it reached your clit, and you rubbed hard on the nub, nerves alight in your body as Jimin increased his pace, slamming into you harder than before. It wasn’t long before your orgasm hit you again, crying out as heat flooded your senses, and Jimin spilled over the edge with you, a deep groan emitting from his lips before he collapsed on the bed beside you, resting for a bit before getting up to discard the condom in the bin.

When he came back, he looked uncertain as to what to do before you beckoned him back on the bed, putting on his boxers before joining your side once again, arms engulfing you in his warmth before you promptly passed out from exhaustion, briefly remembering a pair of lips pressing against the crown of your head before sleep took over.

-

You awoke to the shrill sound of your alarm blaring in your ear, and rolled over in your bed to turn it off. Blearily, you looked around your room, taking note of your clothes strewn around your room and the soreness of your body, before the events of last night came back to you, and you felt bitter disappointment settle deep into your bones as you realised Jimin had not stayed. He ran from you. You should have expected it, really. Men as amazing as him don’t stick with women like you. You sighed and stared up at your ceiling, blinking back tears of frustration. He wasn’t yours to begin with, so why do you feel so heartbroken?

You’re broken out of your reverie by a buzzing on your nightstand, and look over to see your phone on top of it – with a sticky note attached to it. Picking it up, you peeled the sticky note offer and read it:

Hey 😊 I’m sorry I can’t be there for when you woke up, I really wanted to, I just have work this morning and had to rush home to get ready. I really loved last night, though. The sex was a plus haha but if you ever want to meet up again for a coffee or something, I’d really really like that. Here’s my number,

Jimin

Well now. Don’t you feel silly. The goofiest, most love struck grin spreads across your face, and the butterflies that were lying dormant since last night came back full force, leaving you feeling light and giddy. But, you had more pressing matters, such as your first day back to college and the apparent new lecturer your class had. So, with that in mind, you rushed to get showered and dressed, thoughts of Jimin pushed to the back of your mind for now.

-

“So,” your friend started, sending a devilish smirk your way as you both walked towards your lecture hall, “how was your date?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that graced your face as you eyed the ground.

“It wasn’t a date. But he was…nice,” you supplied, not wanting to give too much away. Not yet.

“Just nice?” she scoffed, an eyebrow raised at your vagueness.

“I’ll tell you more after class,” you said as you both walked up to the door of the lecture hall.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but sighed and agreed, and you followed her to your usual spot in the hall.

It was a few minutes until class began, whispers of the new lecturer filling the room, and as you busied yourself with taking out your notes for class, the door burst open and the room went silent, meaning the new lecturer had entered.

You were not ready for the sight before you, however, as you lifted your head from your bag.

“I’m sorry if I seem a little late, traffic was crazy this morning,” an all too familiar voice said, and his gaze swept through the class before doing a double take when they landed on you, widening, before a mischievous smirk graced his face. “ And I was out last night, you know how it is.”

Your friend glanced at you with a confused expression, before registering the look on your face as shock – and recognition. And then everything clicked as to why he looked so familiar to her.

So, Jimin is the new lecturer?

Ah.

Fuck.