#<- going to continue putting all thoughts into this tag

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.6 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: More of a funny chapter, some fluff, Taehyung being the biggest menace on the planet, Some touching (Not sexy touching sorry lol, its worth it), hella tension, dirty thoughts hehehehe, more confused feelings, stress, yoongi mentioned, seokjin continuing to make vics life hard, Jungkook is bad at feelings, drinking, swearing, smoking, y/n continuing to be the biggest avoider of the century, they are getting better just trust me, healthy communicating??? Ji-eun continuing to be my fav ❥word-count: 11.6k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! a/n: This is like 85% edited right now so sorry if there are mistakes but I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible! So enjoy and if you see a mistake no you didn't and Happy Holidays! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five years ago

“Come on! Let me take you out. You don’t even have to think about the breakup anymore,” Taehyung called out, trailing after Jungkook as he moved from his bedroom to the kitchen, then back again.

Namjoon had texted Taehyung earlier, saying Jungkook had been sulking around the apartment for days. The breakup was mutual—or so Jungkook claimed—but it was still a gut punch. He and his girlfriend had been together since the start of college, and the shift from something so constant to nothing at all wasn’t easy to navigate. Jungkook hadn’t gone into much detail, just muttering something about them not wanting the same things anymore.

 His silence, though, was worrying his friends.

Jungkook barely acknowledged Taehyung, focused on shoving notes and books into his backpack. “I can’t, Tae. I have to meet my project partner.” he muttered, his voice laced with mild frustration.

Taehyung leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “The one who already doesn’t like you? Sounds like a good enough excuse to put it off.”

“I can’t,” Jungkook said, sharper this time. “She already doesn’t like me, so being late will just make it worse. I’m barely tolerated as it is. We’ve been working on this for weeks, and it’s been nothing but cold shoulders and annoyed muttering.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading for the front door.

Taehyung wasn’t giving up so easily. “So...is this the same partner you were complaining about before?”

“Yes.” Jungkook groaned, not breaking stride.

“Well, maybe I should come along. I’m great with people. Could smooth things over—”

“No,” Jungkook cut him off, opening the door. “Anything connected to me seems to make it worse.”

Taehyung kept pace, still grinning. “But you’re already late. What’s five more minutes? I can be a neutral third party. Mediate, make her laugh, maybe even—”

“No.” Jungkook protested again, but Taehyung followed him. Then kept following him all the way to the library.

Once inside, Jungkook scanned the study area. He spotted you almost immediately at a small table in the corner, papers spread around you like a protective barrier. You were frowning, your hand moving quickly across a page as you scribbled something down, a furrow of frustration etched between your brows.

“Alright, time for you to leave.” Jungkook hissed, spinning around and shoving at Taehyung’s shoulder.

But Taehyung wasn’t going anywhere. He caught sight of you, and his playful expression shifted to one of delight. His mouth fell open, and then a slow, mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Well, hello, gorgeous.” he muttered under his breath.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“You didn’t mention she was hot.” Taehyung said, his grin only widening and a wiggle to his eyebrows. “I can work with this.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing at Taehyung’s arm to stop him, but Taehyung sidestepped him easily, practically skipping as he made his way over to you. You were deep into some calculations for your math class and you felt like you were going insane when someone sat across from you, you peered up to see a stranger swiftly pulling out another chair at your table.

“Hi.” He said warmly, tilting his head as if he’d just stumbled into a casual coffee chat.

Raising an eyebrow to him, you blinked, your pencil pausing mid-air. “Hi? I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

Taehyung shook his head, “No, I’m Taehyung.” He held a hand out to you to shake. 

You hesitated for a beat, then placed your hand in his for a quick, polite shake. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m actually waiting for someone.” 

“Ah, don’t worry. I won’t take up too much of your time.” Taehyung said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m here on a mission.”

You let out a heavy sigh, “If it’s to ask for my number or anything like that. I’m not interested.” 

Taehyung waves you off, not that he would mind slipping you his number, “Nothing of the sort… I mean unless you like what you see.” Taehyung leans back posing in his chair, and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of him. “I’m actually here to get some information.” 

“Okay?” You cross your arms over your chest, an amused grin on your face. Jungkook from a small distance amazed you haven’t bitten Taehyung's head off. 

Taehyung nodded gravely, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ve come on behalf of my dear, troubled friend, Jungkook.”

Your polite smile faded instantly, replaced by a tight line of irritation. Casting a quick glance past Taehyung. Sure enough, Jungkook was standing a short distance away, half-hidden behind a bookshelf. His expression torn between embarrassment and dread. “I have to apologize Taehyung–”

“You can call me Tae.” He grins with a wink,  and you roll your eyes.

“Okay Tae. I don’t know you well enough to get into all those details.” 

“How about we have dinner and discuss it then?” Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours leaning his arms on the table. Just at that moment a hand comes down on Taehyung's shoulder, he glances up to see an annoyed Jungkook towering above him.

“That’s enough.” Jungkook wants to avoid your annoyance at him increasing any further by Taehyung's antics. 

“You’re late,” you said pointedly, your tone icy as you picked your pencil back up and focused on your notes. Refusing to look at Jungkook.

“Can you see why?” Jungkook gestured to Taehyung and took another seat at the table. Taehyung rubbing his chin glancing between the two of you with some amusement. 

“Wow, there really is some hostility here… almost electric.” Taehyung leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his gaze shifted between you and Jungkook. His grin was as sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension with deliberate ease. “For the sake of Jungkook’s sanity—and mine—I have to know. Did he ghost you? Forget a birthday? Sleep with you and never call you again?”

Your eyes widened, disbelief freezing you for a beat before your voice finally squeaked out, “Excuse me?”

“Tae.” Jungkook kicks his leg under the table and Taehyung winces.

“I was just curious!” Taehyung raises both of his arms up in surrender, “Seriously, what did he do?” He pressed, eyes sparkling with mischief as he ignored Jungkook’s obvious irritation.

You shifted in your seat, feeling caged in under their expectant stares, but your posture stayed composed. You refused to let them see you squirm. “I thought I already said I don’t know you well enough for the details?” You replied coolly, hoping to deflect.

“Well,” Taehyung said, clearing his throat as if settling in for a monologue. “I’m Kim Taehyung. I’m a Capricorn. I enjoy wine and find most other alcohol kind of overrated. Jungkook’s one of my closest friends, like, ever. I love dogs, but I have a massive respect for cats. See? We know each other better already.”

His brazen confidence was so unexpected it caught you off guard, drawing a small laugh from your lips despite yourself. “That’s all fine and good,” You said, shaking your head, “but this is personal, Tae.”

“Can I at least put in a good word for him?” Taehyung raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, gesturing toward Jungkook like he was trying to sell a piece of furniture.

You hesitated, glancing at Jungkook than back to Taehyung. “Alright.” 

Jungkook was surprised you were even entertaining his theatrics. Taehyung’s face lit up in triumph, and he shot Jungkook a smug look before leaning in like he was about to share a juicy secret. “Okay, listen. Whatever he did to earn this… frustration from you, I can guarantee it wasn’t on purpose. Either that, or he’s completely oblivious. Probably the second one, honestly.”

You tried not to let his words affect you, but the sincerity in his voice was hard to ignore. He didn’t seem like he was messing with you.

“Here’s the thing,” Taehyung continued, his tone dropping lower as if the next part was especially important. “Jungkook’s one of the best people I know. Seriously. He’s somewhat dumb sometimes, sure, but he’s also loyal and… well, kind of a big softie. I think whatever’s going on here is probably just a huge misunderstanding.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his words.

Then, as if he couldn’t resist, Taehyung grinned again and reached over to pinch Jungkook’s cheek. “Plus, he’s a big baby and such a cutie, right?”

Jungkook groaned, swatting Taehyung’s hand away. “Stop.”

“No, seriously,” Taehyung insisted, turning to you with exaggerated curiosity. “He’s cute, right?” 

You froze like a deer in headlights, eyes darting between them. “I mean… he’s alright, I guess.” you said, shrugging in an attempt to play it cool. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed Jungkook’s looks, they were hard to miss, but you weren't really on the market these days. 

“Okay, but what about me?” Taehyung tilted his head, all innocent. “Am I more than just ‘alright’?”

“Goodbye, Taehyung.” Jungkook stood abruptly, tugging Taehyung up from his seat. “We’re leaving.”

Jungkook got up from his seat trying to pull Taehyung away from his own. Taehyung resists for a moment, snatching your pencil to quickly scribble his number down on a blank piece of paper you had out. 

“Call me.” Taehyung lifts his hand up to hear ear to motion for you to call, as he is getting dragged away by Jungkook. Far out of your sight from your table. You glance down at the number, it was poorly written but you could still make it out. 

You knew you wouldn’t call but Taehyung's genuine honesty and unabashed personality was a breath of fresh air. At least you could really only hope everything he said was real and not him covering for Jungkook. 

After a minute Jungkook returned to the table, annoyance written all over his face. He took his seat again with a heavy sigh. “Sorry… about him.” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I could tell he meant well.” You brush him off and continue to write something in your notebook. “Seems like a good friend.” 

“He is.” Jungkook nods, finally taking the time to pull out his own books and notes. “Just a tad nosy.” 

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow with a small smile, presenting the phone number. “Severely cocky too.” 

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at the horribly written numbers on the page. “Yeah, you’re welcome to burn that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

Taehyung had always been nosy, maybe even intrusive at times. He really just liked being in people's business and being in the know. This time though, he just happened upon this information and wasn’t really trying to be involved. He really couldn’t help himself in this case. 

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Y/N.” Taehyung said, propping his chin in the palm of his hand. His elbow rested on the table as he studied Jungkook with a knowing glint in his eye.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice steady, though a flicker of unease slipped into his tone. He casually raised his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip as if the conversation was of no consequence.

Taehyung grinned wider, his head tilting. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. I saw you.”

Jungkook frowned faintly, still feigning confusion. “Saw me what?” Jungkook didn’t react—not outwardly, at least. Years of navigating intense courtroom scrutiny made him a master of keeping a cool exterior. But beneath the surface, his pulse quickened.

“You and Y/N. Leaving together after emo night.”

Jungkook blinked once, twice. “Okay?”

“Okay?” Taehyung repeated, drawing the word out mockingly. He leaned forward just enough to make Jungkook feel cornered. “Y/N wouldn’t share a fry with you, let alone a ride home. It doesn’t add up. So I started thinking.” He paused, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, each tap feeling like a provocation. “At first, I let it go. People share cars sometimes, sure. But then Jimin mentioned you’ve been acting... off. Quiet. Weird.”

“It’s called maturity,” Jungkook quipped dryly. “You should try it sometime.”

Taehyung snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Maturity? You? The guy who stress-ate three bags of gummy worms during trial prep and then tried to convince us it was a ‘tactical’ decision?”

“They were sour gummy worms,” Jungkook shot back defensively. “Completely different vibe.”

“Sure but you’re usually unbearable before a trial.” Taehyung raised a brow. “Pacing around, running through every tiny detail like your life depends on it. Hell, last time you made me and Namjoon sit through your entire case just to ‘practice.’ You even roped Melanie into being the jury. Still can’t believe she ruled against me.”

“She has great judgment,” Jungkook quipped, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. But here’s the thing: this time? No pacing, no rambling, no pestering me to play the opposing counsel. Just radio silence. It’s weird.”

Jungkook shrugged, his shoulders stiff with tension. “Maybe I’ve gotten better at managing my stress.”

Taehyung snorted. “Yeah, right.” He turned in his seat to face Jungkook fully, his expression sharpening. “When Jimin said something, I started piecing it together. Thinking on the last few weeks. I thought maybe it was family related but, you hadn’t mentioned anything recently. So then I thought, who’s the only person who throws you off your game? Y/N.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped, but he kept his face neutral. Barely.

“I also thought it might have just been the forced proximity. You two always go nuclear when you spend too much time in the same 500 yards. Except I remembered how weird you two were acting at the wedding, and how you guys disappeared for a while during the rehearsal dinner.” Taehyung continued, his voice dropping just enough to feel like a warning shot. “You think I didn’t notice?” He tilted his head, his gaze cutting. “So, one more time—what’s going on with you and Y/N?”

A silence hung between them in quiet confirmation. Jungkook's face was hot and he was flustered, but also… filled with relief? Like a weight was lifted? Jungkook hadn’t told anyone what had been going on with you two but Taehyung figuring it out made it suddenly so easy. It had all gotten him so wound up and freaked out that he hadn’t realized how much he really wanted to talk. Talk it through, you certainly weren’t going to want to discuss it.

Taehyung’s face morphed into a relaxed and understanding grin, clearly reveling in his own detective work. “Hey, listen. If you’re not ready to talk about it… whatever! I think it’s great. Whatever it is, friendship, relationship, sex. You’re both adults. Have fun.” 

Jungkook let out a breathless laugh, adjusting in his seat. “I don’t even know what’s going on. Definitely not a relationship, I’ll tell you that much.” His lips curled into a shy smile, but his voice carried an edge of uncertainty.

Taehyung nodded knowingly, leaning back in his chair. “Well, start by telling me how this all started.”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “What’s weird is that, thinking about it now, it feels… insane. We fought at the rehearsal dinner. Like, properly fought. Then we went outside to cool off, and I don’t know—something shifted. We started talking about how we’re terrible at communicating. Like, talking has never worked for us.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “So, I said maybe we should try something else. Something physical.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. “You suggested that?”

“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”

“Because Y/N would never suggest that, and you’re usually too uptight to even think about it.” Taehyung took a long, deliberate sip of his drink, clearly enjoying the moment. “So you guys…?” He trailed off, leaving the question hanging even though it was painfully obvious.

Jungkook sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung said, leaning forward with wide eyes and a grin. “I knew you two had chemistry.”

Jungkook frowned. “No, you didn’t.”

“Did too! The first time I met Y/N, it was so obvious. Sure, she was silently plotting your demise, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t heat. You can have tension and attraction, you know.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “You’re delusional.”

“So,” Taehyung pressed, clearly not planning to drop the subject anytime soon, “How does Emo Night fit into this?”

Jungkook leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Honestly… it’s kind of a blur. We were fighting, then we weren’t. Then we were laughing, and the next thing I knew, we were going back to my place.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, giving Jungkook a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “Wow. Good for you. It was only a matter of time.”

Jungkook blinked at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taehyung shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, come on. You’re both hot. You’re both single. Nothing wrong with playing around and seeing what happens.”

Jungkook hesitated, his expression shifting. “I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

“Why not?” Taehyung asked, his tone light but his gaze probing.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I don’t know. Every time it’s happened, I’ve felt this… weird sense of guilt afterward. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I’m not even living in my own skin.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m not the type to just hook up, you know that. I don’t have the time or the mindset for it.”

Taehyung tilted his head, studying him thoughtfully. His voice was softer this time, almost careful. “Do you feel guilty because you think you’re not supposed to? Or is it because it actually feels good, but since it’s with Y/N, you’re telling yourself it shouldn’t be happening?”

The question caught Jungkook off guard. He blinked, his brow furrowing as he thought about it. “I… don’t know.”

Taehyung chewed on his lip for a moment, his expression pensive. “If I’m not overstepping,” he said cautiously, “I think you are enjoying yourself. And sure, I know you only like to sleep with people if you’re considering a relationship—”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook cut in, his tone sharper than he’d intended. “I’m not looking for anything right now. Let alone with Y/N.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Taehyung held up a hand, his voice calm but insistent. “I’m saying maybe… let the chips fall where they may.”

Jungkook frowned, his confusion evident. “What do you mean?”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly against the tabletop as he chose his words. “You’ve had so much going on in the last year. Maybe this—whatever it is—is happening at the perfect time. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be forever. But maybe it’s exactly what you need right now.”

Jungkook snorted, shaking his head. “I’m not like you. I can’t just sleep around. Plus, work takes up all my time.”

Taehyung laughed lightly, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Oh, I’m not saying with just anyone or all the time. I’m saying just whenever it comes about naturally… with Y/N.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Taehyung said, grinning now. “Funny enough, I think Y/N is perfect for this. She’s not going to get attached to you, and you already know you have chemistry. It’s like the universe handed you the ideal situation on a silver platter.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, shaking his head again. “It’s too complicated with Y/N. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Taehyung pressed, his teasing grin fading into something more thoughtful. His voice softened, but the curiosity behind it remained sharp. “Have you even talked to her about it? Like, actually talked?”

Jungkook let out a dry laugh, the sound short and humorless, as he rubbed his chin. “Sort of. Not really. We talked about the wedding for about five seconds, and then we fought about… well, the last time.”

Taehyung snorted, propping his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Wow, groundbreaking. Gossip of the century. You and Y/N fighting? Stop the presses, I’m shocked.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made Jungkook glare.

“You act like conversations come easy for us,” Jungkook shot back, his tone defensive.

Taehyung tilted his head, his expression shifting to something softer—almost amused. “You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve gotten to know Y/N pretty well over the years. She’s not as stubborn as you make her out to be. If anything, she’s way softer than she lets on.”

Jungkook looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing. “Okay?”

“It means,” Taehyung said patiently, “you should at least try.  Y/N is actually pretty reasonable once you sit down and actually talk to her.”

“Talking to her isn’t as simple as you’re making it sound,” Jungkook muttered, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “You talk to people you don’t even like all the time at work. How is this any different?”

“Where do you think I got all that practice?” Jungkook retorted dryly.

Taehyung let out a bark of laughter, his head tilting back briefly before he fixed Jungkook with a pointed look. “Fine. You’re going to Namjoon’s tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” Jungkook said, crossing his arms like the question was ridiculous.

“Perfect,” Taehyung said, clapping his hands together. “There’s your opportunity. Just try to have a normal conversation with her. Just… be casual. You can do that, can’t you?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know me?”

Taehyung ignored the jab, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m serious. You don’t have to solve the world’s problems tomorrow. Just talk. And for the love of all that’s holy, keep your clothes on. Since that seems to be difficult for you two now.”

“Alright I’ll try.” Finishing off his drink, Jungkook stood. “I should go now. I need to get some more work done tonight.” Jungkook started to leave when Taehyung called after him.

“Hey!” Taehyung called after him as Jungkook made his way to the door. “Just think about it, alright? You might even realize I’m right. It happens more often than you’d think!”

Jungkook just waved to him as he left. He was going to make his way up to his car but he paused. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Taking one and lighting it. He hadn’t been smoking as often lately, but he felt he deserved one after the success of the week. Jungkook took a long drag letting the smoke fill his lungs before blowing it out through his nose. A small buzz washed through him, cigarettes didn’t really have the same hit these days but couldn't quite kick the habit. 

He knew the smell would stick to him, would linger and cling to these clothes. He started to walk up the street to his car. Just finishing off the cigarette slowly and making sure he was more than safe to drive. Thinking about what Taehyung told him, he hadn’t thought he had been so stressed. Hooking up with you continuously was just a recipe for disaster, it had to be. He was just asking for something to go wrong and you two were always on thin ice as it was. Not that Jungkook would ever bring up any of Taehyungs advice to you… again.

Last time was the last time, a very specific set of circumstances had to come together for the last two times to even work out. 

All though Jungkook had become the furthest thing from your mind this evening. You were entering the hospital at the ungodly hour of 10:30pm because you decided yeah I can totally switch shifts this weekend! I haven’t done a night shift in a while so this will be fine! You are majorly regretting it now. You had slept most of the day but you were still somehow exhausted. 

“Good morning beautiful.” Vic greeted you as you trudged your way to sit next to her at the nurses station. You shot her a glare sitting down in your chair pulling out one of the tablets. 

“I hate the night shift. Why did I agree to this?” You groan, typing your password multiple times and failing. 

“Because you are lovely and wonderful and Maya really needed the switch.” Vic stood up and behind you and rubbed your shoulders. “You can do this, it’s pretty simple at night anyways.” 

“Ugh please don’t jinx me. You’ll say that and suddenly everything’s gonna go wrong.” You lay your head back looking up at her with a small pout. 

“You’ll be just fine, plus Yoongi is here all night with you. He’s fun to torture during the night shift.” Vic patted you before she grabbed her bag and rounded her way to the elevators.

“Have a good night.” You call out to her but then dive your head into your work. Since it was so easy going you knew this would be a good opportunity to finish up paperwork. There was always plenty to catch up on, you could maybe even get a medication inventory count done tonight as long as everything goes smoothly. 

You spend the next little while just working. Yoongi came and joined you after a while and you both just made small conversation here and there. The two of you had actually gotten closer in the time you’ve been up here. He’s actually super nice and much funnier than anyone gives him credit for. The quiet exterior thing was mostly a professional front but when he’s around you and Vic he loosens way up. 

Once one of the other night nurses, Kay, had arrived you stole him away to help you with meds. 

“Okay would you rather broadcast your thoughts to everyone around you at all times or never be able to think in words again?” You ask as you write down some notes about things that need to be ordered. 

Yoongi thought for a moment as he is opening up a box to inspect the contents, “Can I think in pictures?” 

“Hmm I’ll say yes but you can’t imagine pictures of words.” You tap your pen against your mouth. 

“I’ll never think in words again. I don’t need everyone knowing my thoughts.” Yoongi says and you nod. “What about you?” 

“You know what, I agree. I don’t need everyone knowing how often I think about quitting.” You snort under your breath. Yoongi smiles amused. 

“We all know, you don’t need your thoughts broadcasted for that.” Yoongi teased and you push his shoulder. 

“I’m quitting right now.” 

“Right.” 

You sigh looking around. “Well we’ve barley made a dent. I’m going to going do a loop and check in, will you see if Kay needs anything?” You hand him the notepad you had been making notes on. 

“No problem, and we can totally finish this tonight. Plus we have like 10 more hours.” Yoongi points around the room. It’s true you guys just needed to stay focussed. 

“Nah you have better things to worry about tonight. I’ll just force Wendy to help me when she gets in.” You wave your hand back and forth, leaving the closet. 

You make your way up and down the wing. Most patients were asleep and you would slip in just to make sure there was nothing you guys were missing or not being alerted about. You had pretty good systems and alarms to make sure that didn’t happen but you always liked to check just to make sure. Everyone seemed in good shape for the night, you decided to ends your rounds with checking in on Ji-eun. You poked your head into the room to find she was in fact awake. She was looking at something on her Ipad. The light dimmed. 

“What are you—” You step into the room, Ji-eun's attention pulled to you. At that moment your attention is immediately pulled to the couch that came into view. Someone was asleep there with blanket pulled over them and they were facing away. You drop your voice to a whisper. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. I didn’t know someone was here with you.” 

You try to backing out of the room, but Ji-eun waves for you to come back. Her voice also a whisper, “No no no come back in. I’m happy to see you, you’re never here this late.” 

A sigh of exhaustion leaves you, “Yeah one of the girls needed to switch shifts due to an emergency. So here I am.” 

“That’s nice of you. I can’t imagine overnight shifts are at all easy.” She gives you a sympathetic smile, setting her iPad to the side. 

“It’s alright. Dr. Min and Kay are good company.” Your attention is pulled back to the figure on the couch that shifts slightly. Maybe it was Ji-eun’s husband? You hadn’t had a chance to meet any of her family yet. They were never here when you usually worked. “Is that your husband?” 

Ji-eun looks over and then back to you with a shake of her head. “Oh no, this is one of my boys.” 

“Oh! How sweet he’s here with you.” You glance over and then back to her. 

“Yeah he must have arrived just barely before you. He’s had a long week and hadn’t been able to stop by. Then he fell asleep.” 

“Is this his first time coming to see you? Since you got here?” You found your curiosity peaked.

“Oh no no. He was with me the day I checked in and then he’s been here several times since. Always late like this.” She glances over then back to you. “I hope it’s okay he’s here.” 

Technically you really shouldn’t let family stay over night but it wasn’t a rule. More frowned upon due to some incidents in the past. “Usually we try not to allow it, but I’ll let it go for now.” You give her mischievous grin, and she laughs to herself. 

Ji-eun had an operation schedule for two weeks from now for the tumor in her leg to be removed. She was in high spirits about it. Removing that tumor would officially bring her back down to stage 3. The hope was that they could remove the whole thing.

Dr. Kim took a new biopsy earlier in the week and you learned this tumor was completely unrelated to the liver cancer, which was the original belief. Since the tumor had gotten down almost to the bone she would be off her feet for some time. She also will have to stop chemotherapy for a while until she heals from this operation. So mostly good things but concerning in terms of her cancer and how aggressive her case has been.

The current treatment hasn’t shown any signs of improvements to the tumors on her liver. It was still early so it was inconclusive. You could tell from the way Dr. Kim and Yoongi had been speaking about it that they were hoping for more improvement. Ji-eun hadn’t lost her spirit though. She was still so cheerful everyday you saw her and always had a story or smile to give. She’s made the weeks up here easier. In the time you’ve spent up here you have seen a few patients pass. Two just this week. You didn’t know them well but it was still tough. Especially because they were cases that had much better odds than most. Needless to say it weighed on you, so talking to Ji-eun made it easier. 

Vic and Yoongi had also done a good job at showing you how they handle it. In other specialties you don’t spend as much with the patients, little easier to become impersonal. Up here you have people who are here for weeks or months so you learn about them. Which makes it worse if they don’t pull through. 

“Why are you up so late?” You sit on the end of her bed, “You just had treatment on Tuesday, you need rest.”

“Just a touch of nausea it’ll pass.” She pats her stomach.

“Are you finally admitting to feeling it a little?” You say, talking about the chemo. Ji-eun had been doing well on this one and not shown any major symptoms yet. At least, that is what she was telling everyone. 

“A little.” She huffed, “Nothing serious. It’ll pass soon.” 

“I can get you something if you need. You don’t have to just tough it out, even though I know you try too.” You lean on one of your hands, your face falling into slight concern. 

“I'm tougher than you think. No chemo can get me down. Now you go. I’m sure you have plenty of work that needs to be done.” She tried to wave you out of the room, but you roll your eyes. 

“I’ve got a minute.” You glance over to her ever updating pile of crochet projects. “What are you working on right now?” 

Ji-eun glances to her pile. “I know it’s a big cliché, but I’m working on a few things for you and Victoria, and the docs.” She pull over some of her stuff, “It’s just scarves.” 

She pulls out one that looks to already be complete that is green and blue and red stripes. Another that is all red. 

“The stripped one is for Dr. Kim. The red is for Victoria. Felt fitting since she is so fiery, and Dr. Kim is so flamboyant.” She held them out to you, they were very well done. She picked a very oft thread for them as well so they were nice to touch.

“Oh these are lovely.” You fold them and lay them back down on the bed. “Dr. Kim will love his, I assure you.” 

“And this,” She reaches down on the side of the bed, “will be yours eventually.” She pull out a dark blue scarf that had stars being stitched throughout. It was still a work in progress, maybe about half way done? It was truly lovely so far. “I think it looks pretty good!” 

You give her a happy pout looking at it, “I love it. It’s so cute. I can’t wait to wear it.” 

“Well I better hurry up and get it done!” Her voice was a little louder than she intended, and whichever of Ji-eun's sons was on the couch stirred. “Whoops too loud. Can I get your opinion for Yoongi? I want to make him one but I’m not sure.” 

You thought for a moment if you should tell her to give him something outrageously bright just to see him feel forced to wear it. You decided against it though. “Probably something neutral. He’s not the flashy type. Maybe a black or grey.” 

“Awe I was hoping maybe he had a colorful streak hidden under that quiet exterior.” Her face twisted in annoyance, “Neutral it is.” 

You get yourself off the bed. It was time that you got back and continued your work. It was a nice little break but there was a lot left to be done tonight. 

“I must leave you now. If you need anything you know where we are.” You take a step towards the door. 

“I’ll try.” Ji-eun huffs with fake annoyance in her tone like you were a mom scolding her. 

You roll your eyes knowing she’s just going to continue to be tough about it. You turn to the door before something catches your attention before stepping out. It was subtle and you hadn’t noticed it before but you definitely smelt it now. 

Just a faint smell of cigarette. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

After a long and grueling night. Your shift was coming to an end. You and Yoongi, with the help of Wendy another night nurse, you managed to get a good jump on inventory. The rest of the night you mostly just did paperwork and bothered Yoongi when you could. No major issues except you were not really built for a night shift. About an hour ago you took advantage and stowed yourself away to get a tiny bit of rest in an on call room. With your slumber abruptly interrupted. 

“Rise and shine baby girl!” Vic hit her leg on the side of the bunk you were sleeping in. Rattling it and you awake.

With an angry grunt you rolled over to look at her. “You’re so obnoxious.” 

“I’m here to relieve you. Get up.” She holds a hand out to you to help you get to your feet. “How was last night?”

“Not bad.” You yawn and stretch your arms straight into the air. You fill her in on some other details and you both leave the on call room and walk back to the nurses station. Giving her some updates on what you and Kay did in the night. 

You collected some of your stuff from the desk when you overheard some of the other girls you worked with talking. 

“Okay but like you saw him.” Lana, a new hire here, leaning on both of her hands swiveling from side to side in her chair. Dramatically star struck. 

“You were right, hot.” Angel, another girl who usually works opposite shifts of you. So you haven’t gotten to know her much. 

“Ladies,” Vic interrupted arms folded, “I think we have better things we could be doing?” 

“Yeah but Lana’s crush was here. So she’s all distracted now.” Angel rolled her eyes, nudging Lana to come out of her dream state. You laugh under your breath. 

“Who’s her crush?” You breath, balancing your stuff in your arms. Looking between the two of them.

Lana groaned, “I don’t actually know his name. I’m just pretty sure he’s Ji-euns son. You had to have seen him Y/N, you’re on her case.” She looked to you, her pupils practically turning into little hearts.

“I actually haven’t met any of Ji-eun’s family. I’ll see what I can find out.” You yawn thinking back on it. Sad Ji-eun’s been excited to introduce you to her family and you just barely missed him. Maybe next time. 

“Get his name as soon as possible please. So Lana can bug you about it instead of me.” Angel got up from the desk, walking away as quickly as she could. You and Vic watch her go in her annoyance and you both have amused smiles. 

“I’m sure you could just ask. Ji-eun uses any opportunity to talk about her family.” You pat Lana on the shoulder, “Hope he’s everything you hope he is.” 

“Me too.” Lana gets up as well taking a tablet with her in a day dreamy walk. 

“Don’t encourage her. She’s new so she doesn’t need to get her hopes high. ”Vic nudged you. She was mostly teasing. 

“Hey, we need some new entertainment around here other than Yoongi. I’m just sad her crush isn’t on him so we don’t get to tease him about it.” You laugh, just then Seokjin and Yoongi were rounding the corner. 

“Good morning my wonderful staff.” Seokjin beamed between you and Vic. Vic narrowing her eyes at Seokjin already. Oh he’s in for a long day. 

“You didn’t sign your charts last night.” She taps her finger impatiently. Yoongi trying to hide. “Yoongi this goes for you two, and you have no excuse you were here all night.” 

You place a hand on her, “To be fair he really helped us out with the medicine and inventory count.” 

She huffs, “Okay fine you’re off the hook. You sir,” pointing back to Seokjin. “You’re gonna sit and do it before you do anything else today.” 

“What’s with the hostility? To think I bought treats for you today and this is the thanks I get?” Seokjin sniffs and fake wipes his eyes. 

“I’ll be less hostile when you sign your charts.” She barks.

You decide you need to slip out now before the blood bath begins. You made your way home in record time. You were desperate to sleep in your own bed because you were finally going to see Melanie tonight. You were so excited that her and Namjoon were back, and tonight would be all in good fun. Or at least you hoped it would. 

Jungkook's annoying presence would certainly be something to handle… considering. 

You couldn’t even think straight as you crashed on your bed. You didn’t even bother to change, just letting the weight of the night overtake you. It felt like a blink of an eye though as it was suddenly 6 pm. You needed to get up and get ready for sure now. You had roughly about an hour before you needed to be getting out the door. So you shower the night off and dress casually, you had a feeling you may be crashing there tonight so you didn’t need to look amazing. 

You certainly didn’t feel too amazing, exhausted really. 

After too long you were arriving and knocking on the front door. Namjoon and Melanie had a very nice townhome, it wasn’t decorated in a typical fashion. It was always very warm and welcoming and homey. You tended to hang out here a lot because of how good of a job they did at making it so nice. Unfortunately that did involve many night where you, Ash, and Melanie overtake the house and Namjoon is left sleeping in the guest room or downstairs. He really didn’t mind but you always felt a little bad. 

With a swift swing open of the door Melanie was who you came face to face with. “Finally! My knight in shining armor has arrived!” Melanie swooned against the door frame. 

“My darling I’ve return from war!” You step inside and are immediately enveloped into a hug. It was so nice to finally have her back. You didn’t want to bug her with anything while her and Namjoon were away but now it was free game. “I need to hear every detail about your trip.” 

“Oh trust me I’ve got a whole presentation prepared.” She keeps an arm around you as you enter the house. 

The entryway was a long hallway with tall ceilings, stairs lined one wall, with entrance to the living room first and then just up the hall entrance to the kitchen. A small bathroom tucked under the stairs. 

“Oh I can’t wait.” You giggle and rub your hands together, “I need something to eat though I’m starving.” 

“Oh there’s plenty of food so help yourself. We’ve got all night.” She pulled you into the living room where you were greeted with Ash and Namjoon in a heated debate about what looked like a just finished match of Mario kart. Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch, looking like a kicked puppy. Melanie sat down on the opposite love seat leaving you standing, 

You squat down to Taehyung's eye level, “What was it this time? Eleventh or twelve?” 

He fakes sobs, “If there was a thirteenth place they would make it for me.” You snort and ruffle his hair. 

“You’ll get him next time.” You sit down on the love seat with Melanie laying your legs across her lap. 

“You don’t want to sit with me?” Taehyung sat up on the couch with a puppy dog look in his eye. 

“I need some Melanie time tonight. I’ll give you my attention another time.” You say but Taehyung still played sad. 

“Mel! Back me up! He so cheated!” Ash erupted between the three of you, pointing to Namjoon accusingly. 

“I did not!” Namjoon quipped back, “She’s the one who was trying to shove me the entire time!”

“I’m not getting in the middle of you two and your stupid Mario kart rivalry again! I made that mistake once and I almost got my head bitten off for it.” Melanie grumbled in annoyance at the two of them. They both deflated but still were annoyed. 

“You know how competitive they get, why let them play?” You ask, raising an eyebrow to Taehyung and Melanie. 

“I left the room for five seconds and suddenly they were deep into it by then.” Melanie raised her hands in innocence. You believed it, Ash and Namjoon had a years long running tally of Mario kart wins. They always stayed neck and neck and it was very serious for them. You were okay at it, always coming out somewhere in the middle. 

“Well I need a drink if this is how the night is going to continue.” You get back up from your seat. 

“There’s tons of wine please drink it.” Namjoon called after you, you gave a thumbs up behind you in response. Heading down to the kitchen. 

Rounding your way into the in there really was tons of snacks and food at the ready on the island counter. You imagine Melanie had meant to bring it into the living room but got sucked into the game with the others. 

You pick a random bottle, opening it and pouring yourself a glass. It was pretty good for a random pick. You balance your glass, the bottle, and a armful of snacks bringing them with you to the living room to lay them out on the coffee table. 

“Oh thank you.” Melanie beamed, taking a bag of chips from you. 

“I figured they got left behind in the gaming escapades. This wine is also nice.” You take another sip from your glass, setting the bottle down. 

Melanie takes the bottle holding it up to Namjoon, he also looks at it, “Joonie, where did we get this one?” 

“Jungkook got it as a gift.” Namjoon nodded when seeing the bottle. 

Taehyung dramatically held onto the nearest object. You gave him a funny look.

“Sorry Jungkook's name was mentioned in your presence. Thought I should prepare for a disaster.” He teased, you hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m not that dramatic.” You settle down on the couch next to him. “Here I’ll give him a compliment right now. He can pick out a nice wine. Let’s hope it’s not poison.” 

“Wow,” Taehyung deadpanned, clutching his chest. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Anyways, what’s going on with you these days.” You look at Taehyung. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding.” 

“I tried to catch up with you at emo night but seems you got stolen away.” Taehyung says and it makes you take a slight moment of pause. Taehyung said it that way on purpose. Knowing what he knows, “You know cause you went home early.” 

You nod, playing it cool. “Yeah I had too much. It was good I called it early because it could have gotten messy.” 

“Probably smart, a little too much to drink can make us do some questionable things.” Taehyung says it almost with some suggestion, like trying to point to a certain subject. It didn’t slip by you, it felt too intentional. 

“Yeah, I guess?” You play it off, “Anyways, any new girl I can hear about as of late? Any crazy stories you got for me?” 

Taehyung shakes his head, “I’ve taken a little break lately. Trying to be serious.” 

“Really? You?” You cock an eyebrow. 

“Nah,” He smirks, “What about you? Anyone wrapped around your finger at the moment?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, Taehyung had a way of trying to subtly gets answers. Him asking about your love life never comes without a catch. Last time it was a blind date he wanted to set you up on. “No. I’m not really looking right now.” 

He slowly nods his head, his stare a bit too intense for comfort. “Very interesting.” 

“Okay what are you planning? If you're planning on giving my number out to someone can I at least know who and why?” You groan, leaning your head on the back of the couch looking up to the ceiling. 

“No I wouldn't do that to you… again. I’m just confirming a solution to a problem I’m working on.” 

You wanted to probe further into what Taehyung was talking about, but decided to just leave it. Whatever he had cooking up in his mind could not be good. Better to not indulge him. 

The night buzzed with the hum of wine-fueled laughter, the clink of glasses, and a playlist that had long since fallen victim to the chaos of too many requests. You were tipsy, just enough to feel bold and carefree, your giggles blending seamlessly with the chatter around you.

Ash, Melanie, and you had claimed the big couch as your domain, limbs tangled in a haphazard heap. Your head rested in Ash’s lap, where she was absently braiding and unbraiding sections of your hair, likely creating a disaster you'd deal with tomorrow. Namjoon and Taehyung had been exiled to the love seat and the floor, making them easy targets for your drunken commentary.

This was how these nights always went—wine, games, and an inevitable retreat to Namjoon and Melanie’s room, where the three of you would indulge in a late-night slumber party like teenagers.

Just then a ring from the doorbell sounded through the house. Announcing the arrival of the demon spawn. Namjoon sprung up from his spot and trotted to the door. You could hear a few voices echo in the hall before Namjoon and Jungkook reentered the room with some laughs. 

“Golden boy finally arrived.” Taehyung held his arms up in celebration. The wine in his glass almost flinging everywhere. 

You rolled your eyes so hard you were sure they’d get stuck. Melanie wiggled her way out from under your legs to give Jungkook a hug, which he returned with genuine warmth. You looked away, muttering under your breath, “Great, now we’re all blessed by his presence.”

Melanie beamed, entirely ignoring your sarcasm. “Okay, now that everyone’s here, we can finally show pictures from the trip!” She dashed out of the room and returned moments later with her laptop, bounding around everyone and hooking it up to the TV.

“Oh you actually had a presentation prepared?” You laugh at her and Melanie rolls her eyes. 

“Yes,” Melanie retorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll like it. Now, everyone, sit.” 

Melanie urges Namjoon and Jungkook to sit back down. Namjoon took the available spot next to Taehyung, which left the spot your legs currently occupied the only place left. 

The command turned the room into a musical chairs scramble. Namjoon reclaimed his spot by Taehyung, leaving the couch seat you were sprawled across as the only one open.

Jungkook eyed the seat with a smirk and crossed his arms. “Guess you’ll have to move.”

Without budging an inch, you waved dismissively at the floor. “There’s plenty of space down there.” 

Jungkook, tilted his head, tongue in cheek. He should have expected the immediate annoyance he would get from you being here. Taehyung watched from the other couch with bated breath, sipping on his wine. 

“Oh this looks like such a comfortable spot though.” Without warning Jungkook places his butt right on top of your legs. Sighing joyfully, it was not comfortable but the face you were making was worth it. 

Ash immediately burst out laughing, her hands still tangled in your hair. “I mean, he’s not wrong. You’re pretty cozy.”

“Get off.” You groan, tugging your legs out from under him and sitting up straight.

Jungkook stretched out leisurely, claiming the newly vacated spot with a satisfied smirk. "Ah, much better."

You narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to shove him off the couch entirely. Taehyung, still observing from his perch with an amused glint in his eye, raised his glass in toast. "And just like that, our main event is underway."

"You're enjoying this way too much," you snapped at Taehyung, who simply shrugged and sipped his wine.

Melanie clapped her hands, reclaiming everyone's attention. "Alright, children, settle down. You're distracting from my masterpiece here." She gestured to the TV, where the first picture from their trip was already displayed: a stunning view of a mountain range bathed in golden light.

The room collectively oohed and aahed, and Melanie launched into a detailed explanation of the hike they had to endure to get the shot. Namjoon chimed in with a few quips about Melanie nearly slipping on a rock, which earned him a playful swat on the arm.

Ash, kept you grounded in your spot so you didn’t push Jungkook away. He didn’t try to antagonize you again. He stayed settled to his spot and his attention on Melanie. Staying engaged with everyone except you. You got another drink into you during the presentation and so did Ash. both of your giggling every now and then on your side of the couch. Entertaining yourselves thoroughly. 

Jungkook just stayed as far on his side as he could. Didn’t mean something else was happening. Because Taehyung was texting him. 

Tae: So are you going to talk to y/n tonight??????

Tae: I think you should ;)

Tae: Remember just keep it casual!!!

Tae: Could lead to… well you know… again ;)

Tae: I’ll even break the ice

Tae: ;)

Tae: Should be an interesting evening

Jungkook would look every once in a while and not dignify Taehyung with a response. Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s eyes also boring into the side of his head in anticipation. He was looking for that spark, maybe there was something much more going on here. 

After a little while, the wine was really getting to you. As well as your messed up sleep schedule making you fuzzy. Warm. You were watching Melanie talking about some trail her and Namjoon followed and got lost along as your attention was caught to Jungkook moving his hand to run through his hair. Settling it back down into his lap. It caught your attention for a moment and it felt like it moved in slow motion. Then without even realizing you were staring at his hands in his lap. 

He was fidgeting with his fingers. Probably mindlessly playing with them. Your mind began to drift though, because you know those hands now. You know they are much softer than they initially look. They were warm and strong. His fingers are long and slender, pretty even. Pretty in an artistic way, almost. A memory of them running all over your body imprinted on your mind. Being pulled to the surface. 

Almost too quickly you felt like your face was on fire. The memory coming in small flashes. A laugh to a messy drunken make out in a fluorescent bathroom. Your lips finding their way to his skin. Then being in his apartment and stripping down together. Then suddenly being laid back. First his fingers and and then his tongue painting you with pleasure. You could see his hands in your mind so clearly, then suddenly his eyes. Looking back at you, while he took you over the edge. 

You need to stop. You shook your head and adjusted in your seat almost too quickly. You cannot be thinking about this right now. What is wrong with you? It had to be the wine, you always got somewhat horny when you drank wine. You settled back into your spot, playing it cool. Your eyes danced around the room for a moment. Pulling yourself back down to earth. Keep it together, you are better than this. 

Your eyes glanced at Jungkook for one second. Not even trying to look but you caught him right as he was playing with his lip ring with his tongue. Forcing your eyes to look back to Melanie and the screen. 

Pay attention to the presentation. 

Your foggy conscience easily betrayed you though. This time, quiet and patient kisses in an elevator. Then a dark hotel room. An image of Jungkook standing above you saying please. Then him placed behind you, slipping himself inside–

You take in a sharp breath in through the nose. You begin to pick your own nails. Surely if you keep your hands busy you can keep your mind distracted. Yes you were a little tipsy and you were having flashbacks but you can fight this. Remember he’s gross, awful, and has said horrible things to you. He drives you insane. 

You will not let your tipsy mind flow to... Jungkook. 

You decided you needed to get some ice cold water. The pictures wrapped up, Melanie’s enthusiastic commentary dwindling to polite applause as everyone shifted back to casual conversation. You decided it was the perfect moment to escape, slipping away toward the kitchen with quick, deliberate steps. The quiet was immediate and welcome, wrapping around you like a shield.

Getting yourself a glass and getting some water from the sink. Sipping it quickly, letting the coolness slow your mind.

The reprieve didn’t last long.

You heard the floorboards creak and glanced up just in time to see Jungkook stroll into the kitchen. His presence was impossible to ignore. He didn’t look at you at first, but you felt him there, his every move trying to pull at your attention like a gravitational force.

Your grip on the glass tightened reflexively.

“Jungkook.” Your voice was flat, carefully devoid of emotion.

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, brushing past you to grab a glass of his own. His voice carried a teasing edge, but there was something else—something softer underneath.

The silence that followed was sharp and deliberate, the air thick with unspoken words. Jungkook could easily toss out some snarky comment to rile you up, it was practically his trademark, but he didn’t. Not this time.

Instead, he lingered, standing just close enough for the faint scent of his cologne to drift your way. Cedarwood, or something like that. It was annoyingly intoxicating.

You busied yourself with your phone, scrolling aimlessly. A quiet laugh escaped you at something you saw, but it felt too loud in the stillness, too revealing.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook finally broke the silence. “How are you?”

You blinked at your phone, unsure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you glanced his way. “What?”

“How are you?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his movements almost shy.

“Why?”

“I’m making conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what people do, Y/N. They talk.” His tone had a touch of exasperation, but his lips curled into a faint smirk. “Just answer the question. You’re not going to combust if you do.”

You hesitated, the urge to deflect warring with the odd sincerity in his gaze. “I’m good,” you said finally, though it felt like pulling teeth. “Exhausted, but good.”

“How come?”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to read him. Was this a setup? “I worked an overnight shift last night,” you said cautiously. “So my sleep schedule is all over the place.”

“Overnight shift, huh?” Jungkook turned to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “And you still showed up tonight?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. “I missed Melanie and Namjoon. We usually crash here after these things.”

“Crash?” He raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah.” You smiled despite yourself. “Mel, Ash, and I take over Namjoon and Melanie’s room after too much wine.”

Jungkook let out a low laugh, the sound unexpectedly warm. “That explains it. Namjoon was muttering about an invasion yesterday. Makes sense now.”

You laughed lightly, the tension between you softening for a moment. “Yeah, invasion is probably accurate. If you and Taehyung weren’t here, the living room would already be in ruins.”

Jungkook moved then, stepping toward the sink to fill his glass. The motion was smooth, casual, but you couldn’t ignore how close he came, the heat of his body brushing against yours. The scent of his cologne floating your way one more time. You took a small step to the side, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

He seemed to notice your shift but didn’t comment, his gaze flickering to you for a split second before returning to his glass.

You cleared your throat, your voice quieter than you intended. “How are you?”

Jungkook stilled, glancing at you with something like surprise. For a moment, he didn’t answer, his dark eyes searching your face like he was trying to decide if you meant it.

“I’m alright,” he said finally, his tone subdued. “Busy, though. I’m in the middle of a trial.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Lawyer stuff.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, lawyer stuff.”

“What kind of trial?” you asked, surprising even yourself.

He hesitated, as if weighing whether to tell you. Finally, he said, “It’s a class-action case. Workers suing their company for unpaid wages. I’m representing them.”

Your eyebrows lifted, genuinely impressed. “Wow. Didn’t expect you to be on the workers’ side.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” You gestured vaguely. “Knee jerk reaction. I typically expect the worst from you. Most people would go for the big paycheck.”

A low chuckle escaped him, warm and deep. He couldn’t blame you for jumping to a conclusion after all these years. “Fair enough. It was the right thing to do though.” Jungkook rubs on his neck another time. You noticed it, he had done it a couple of times tonight. Almost like it was bothering him. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You tighten your eyebrows together, Jungkook’s eyes meeting yours for just a moment before darting away. 

“Oh,” He twists his neck trying to relieve the discomfort. “My neck is just hurting. I think I slept wrong.” 

“You could take something, or there are some stretches I know that can help.” You begin to look around the kitchen seeing if you can find some ibuprofen. Your hurriedness surprised Jungkook. Threw him off balance. 

“I already took something but didn’t seem to help. Still some pain.” His eyes tracked you round the kitchen as you continued your search. 

“Well I’ll show you the stretches then, grab a chair.” You exhale, nodding your head to one of the chairs at the dining table. 

Jung walked over and pulled one of the chairs out and took a seat. You hesitated for a moment before you stood right behind him. Your hands hovered hesitantly above his shoulders. What the hell were you doing? 

“Are you okay if I just do it… t-to show you how?” You say hesitantly. 

Jungkook doesn’t look back to you but finds himself rather… nervous even. Had you gotten him in the perfect position to actually just strangle you out? Were these his final moments? 

“Just don’t kill me… but yeah go for it.” He nodded, not looking back to you. 

“Okay. Just relax.” 

Jungkook feels you place one hand on his left shoulder, making sure his posture stays back and your other hand resting on the top of his head gently pushing it forward. Jungkook could feel a small pull in his neck stretching it out. The pain was on the right side so this was too bad. Your hand on his shoulder was touching some of the skin on his neck and it felt like it was burning into him. It was quiet, just your quiet breathing filling the room. 

“So you lean your head forward and then you roll your head side to side,” you murmured, guiding his head gently to the left Your voice was softer than you’d intended, the quiet of the kitchen making every word feel heavier.

Jungkook’s breathing hitched slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was from the stretch or the weight of your hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and you realized with a jolt that your fingers lingered longer than necessary.

“You should feel a pull right along here.” You hovered for a second, but drew a line along his neck where the muscle was tense. Trying to focus on the task and not the way your voice seemed to tremble.

Your touch made Jungkook want to wiggle away from you. So light but almost electric. His mind drifted away somewhat, almost remembering last week but he kept himself grounded in the present.

“Yeah,” he replied, the pull was slightly painful but felt good. “It’s… helping.” His words were simple, but something about the way he said them made your stomach flip.

You adjusted your hand, sliding it to the other side of his head to tilt it gently to the left. “And this?” You kept your eyes focused on the wall now, You had already spent too much time looking… and thinking about his hands tonight. You didn’t need to think about his neck. 

Jungkook exhaled, a slow, deep sound that felt too intimate in the quiet space. “Better,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“It also helps to roll in circles slowly too. Trying to stretch those muscles as far as you can. You want to feel the pull.” You remove your hand, but keep them on his shoulders as he rolls his head around in slow circles. 

The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead light, felt suspended in time. The sounds from the living room—muted laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional burst of louder conversation—faded into the background. It was just you, Jungkook, and the lingering ghost of your touch on his skin.

Your hands had rested on his shoulders longer than they should have. Neither of you had acknowledged it, though Jungkook had noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing. The weight of your touch, light but grounding, had felt entirely different from the energy you normally exuded around him.

Gentle.

It made his pulse quicken, a response he tried desperately to suppress. But his mind betrayed him, conjuring thoughts he had no business entertaining such as your hands moving from his shoulders, sliding down his chest, fingers tracing his jawline—

He swallowed hard, forcing himself back to reality. Because that feeling was there again, that small guilty twist in his stomach. What he had been telling Taehyung about bubbled up. He still couldn’t name it, because guilt didn’t feel right. It wasn’t that but it felt so strange. What was that?

Almost like the universe had heard his struggle, Taehyung appeared in the doorway, a wide grin already plastered on his face. His eyes scanned the scene quickly, locking onto Jungkook still seated and you standing just behind him.

“Oh my god it’s finally happening. Y/N is going to strangle you out!” Taehyung gasped and threw his hands over his mouth dramatically, “Y/N please spare him! He’s a good boy!”

You laugh to yourself, stepping back from Jungkook letting your hands fall away from him. The absence of touch is almost louder than the conflict itself. “I’m not strangling him,” you said, crossing your arms and giving Taehyung a look. “This time. Now roll your shoulders back.” you instructed Jungkook, stepping even farther away as if to reestablish boundaries.

Jungkook complied without a word, rotating his shoulders as you’d shown him. He tilted his head from side to side, testing the stretch. When his gaze flicked back to you, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“I do it for patients all the time, the hospital beds are notoriously uncomfortable.” You replied, shrugging as if it were nothing. Your arms stayed crossed, a subtle shield against the shift in energy between you. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” he said, his words soft but lingering. His eyes stayed on you a fraction too long, enough to make your chest tighten and your cheeks warm.

Taehyung, clearly enjoying himself, stepped farther into the kitchen. His smile widened, but he kept his tone light. “What exactly were you doing?”

“I slept weird last night,” Jungkook interjected, standing up from the chair and adjusting it neatly back under the table. “My neck’s been hurting all day. Y/N was just showing me some stretches to help.”

Taehyung hummed, unconvinced. His gaze darted between you and Jungkook like he was piecing together a puzzle. “Right. Stretching. Sure.”

You decide this is your chance to escape out of here. You pick up your glass and exit the kitchen quickly to rejoin the others in the living room. The kitchen was quieter now that you’d left, though the tension you’d unintentionally abandoned seemed to cling to the air like static. Taehyung leaned against the counter, his grin infuriatingly smug as he watched Jungkook refill his glass of water, the younger man pointedly ignoring him.

“If I had shown up even a second later, you two would’ve probably stripped naked,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook groaned, turning his back on him to hide his flushed face. “We were only talking.”

Taehyung nodded sagely, his expression far too knowing. “Oh, sure. Just talking. Nothing else. Completely innocent. Two people practically pressed against each other in a dimly lit kitchen, having a totally platonic chat.”

Jungkook shot him a glare. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” Taehyung replied smoothly. “But it’s part of my charm. So, what was it really? A nice heart-to-heart, or were you two silently fighting like usual?”

Jungkook paused, his hand tightening briefly on his glass. “No… no, actually. It was just a conversation. Awkward, but… maybe the most normal we’ve spoken to each other in years.”

Taehyung’s grin widened as he pushed off the counter, his eyes alight with mischief. “Told you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m always right and you know it.” 

“No you’re not.”

“She was sweet, though, wasn’t she?” Taehyung continued, his voice quieter now, his teasing edge softening. “Almost shy? Kind, even?”

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze fixed on the countertop. He hated how easily Taehyung saw through him, but there was no use denying it. “...Yeah,” he admitted grudgingly, barely above a whisper.

Taehyung clapped him on the shoulder, his grin shifting into something genuine. “See? Progress. Keep trying.”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck where your touch still lingered faintly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER THREE PT. I: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.7K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. reader is lowkey obsessed. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. exams suck. higuruma has an old car. law firm shenanigans ensue.

❀ notes etc.

Thank you so much @ratiopoetry. If it wasn’t for you, this chapter wouldn’t exist, so a big, fat, huge thanks. You reminded me of the reason I started writing this (and why I write at all) in the first place. 💛

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @sandsorghum thank you both!

You sat there staring blankly during Higuruma’s class. He was definitely teaching… something. You had no idea what, though.

More importantly, you were laser focused on one thing, and one thing only — his crooked tie.

Burgundy, satin. Slightly bent to the left. Crumpled underneath the knot, bulging inwards. It kept pushing up anytime he moved his arms to write on or gesture towards the white board behind him.

Just enough to make you want to stretch out your hands and touch it. Straighten it.

Probably a regular black tie or even a navy blue one would’ve suited him better. 

 Worked up and yapping continuously about something that was clearly important, Higuruma would pace back and forth, and all that you wondered was how the hell this man with dozens of academic accolades didn’t know how to properly tie a tie.

That single piece of attire seemed to mock you. The off-putting dip underneath the knot looked like a cocky smile.

It was all made worse when Higuruma mindlessly tugged his fingers around it. The tie bent even further from the center.

For fucks sake.

After a while, you gave up on trying to pay any mind to his class, and let the time slide off the clock’s hand until the bells went off and you were finally free to go. 

Before you could bolt your way out of there and leave this weird obsession behind, though, he spoke.

“Hey, Sanrio.”

Is he calling me Sanrio for real now?

Your cheeks flushed a dusty pink, and you were glad that nearly all of the students had already left the classroom. You gulped and turned calmly from your half done backpack to face him.

“Yes, Professor?”

“I need to speak with you, if you may,” he replied, signaling for you to approach him.

Your throat tightened, and you wondered if this could be related to the debacle from a few nights before. After all, this was the first time you saw each other after you unceremoniously gave him a pure vodka shower.

Then patted him dry with your scarf.

And spent a few moments holding hands.

Damn. 

He sat over his desk while crossing his arms, and your eyes were instantly drawn to his forearms, the way they softly bulged in that position, every corded muscle visible with his sleeves rolled up, his veins perfectly protruded down his forearm, all over the back of his hand, and his tie-

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

Only then you registered that he was actually saying something, and you didn’t catch a word.

“Oh, no. I mean, I wasn’t… I got distracted.”

“I can see that. Actually, I wanted to ask if everything is okay, you seem off today,” he inquired, softly tilting his head to the side. His eyes landed first on your face, and slowly made their way down your body. For a second, you wondered if he was checking you out, or if it was just your imagination.

The thought had you blushing even deeper, because of course not, this is not happening, what the hell is wrong with me-

“Sanrio, you’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Zoning out while I’m speaking to you.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I must’ve been distracted.”

“With what?”

And he did ask it in earnest.

Distracted with you checking me out, and your forearms, and the way you tug that goddamn burgundy satin around your perfect neck, and-

“Your tie.”

One of his eyebrows slowly peaked up in disbelief.

“My… tie?”

For a second, you wished for a hole to be magically conjured right underneath your feet just so you could bury your head in it like an ostrich. Not the smartest defense mechanism devised by nature, but definitely one that would save you some embarrassment at that moment.

He cleared his throat, and you could just about die not knowing what he — or anyone, for that matter — could reply to whatever that was. 

“Do you want to… straighten it?”

“… What?”

“You heard me.”

Completely dumbfounded, you wondered if that was just mockery. Or a poorly executed joke, since he seemed to be a professional at cracking those.  

“If it’s so distracting, come on over here and straighten it,” he repeated, almost like a dare, holding your gaze. Sure enough, there was not an ounce of jest in that man’s face.

Disconcerted, you slowly walked in his direction, and as you lifted your hands towards his neck, Higuruma tilted his jaw up, projecting his neck muscles and making all of his tendons much more apparent.

At the same time, your teeth clenched, your mouth watered and your hands stuttered.

“Is there any problem?” The Professor asked while raising a curious eyebrow.

His voice sounded sultrier than usual. Suspiciously raspy and velvety. Is he doing it on purpose?

You simply nodded while your brain short circuited, and the more you tried to steer away the thoughts of how much you had the hots for the Professor, the more you wanted to tug on that tie and-

“There, straightened,” you whispered in a rush, eyes glued to the floor, ready to bolt away and leave all your belongings behind, even if you were still clutching his tie in between your fingers as if holding onto a lifeline. 

An unnecessarily sexy lifeline.

Before you could leave, though, he held your shoulder with one hand while tilting your face up by pushing his index finger under your chin, catching you completely off guard.

“Are you in a rush? Do you have some place else to be?”

Absolutely not hallucinating. He was, indeed, making a move on you, and his gaze slid down slowly towards your lips. “We still haven’t talked about that night. And how you left some lipstick on the cigarette you lit up for me.”

Nothing but a pathetic whimper left your lips. He smiled.

“Is this the same one?” Higuruma asked, flickering his eyes between your gaze and your lips.

“S-same… what?”

“Lispstick.”

It felt like you were in a plane cabin and it had just depressurized. 

I have to leave, I can’t do this, this is highly inappropriate behav-

You nodded. His smile widened.

“Perfect. Now I can taste it from the right place.”

Your stomach dropped further and your heart thumped in your chest, skipping more than just a few beats as it drummed enough to have the space around you both grow even quieter to your ears.

Rational thought had abandoned you as your grip tightened around his tie, your eyes dropping to his mouth. Higuruma seemed pleased, and slid one of his hands to the nape of your neck while carding his fingers through your hair, bringing his other hand down behind you to cup your lower back. You softly jumped in surprise, and he wasted no time into pulling your body against his, having you instantly feeling his warmth all over you.

As you both inched closer to each other, you could smell some of his aftershave on his skin, and his minty breath, and his cologne impregnated all over his clothes, and…

This smells like my laundry detergent…?

The bells went off again.

This time, however, it was your morning alarm yanking you out of sleep as your face sunk into your pillow like a rock in a lake.

Peeling your eyes open to the unforgiving light that flooded into your dorm room, you slowly propped yourself up from the mattress. Your laptop was open by the edge of the bed, and on the screen, you found your shame displayed in between three different types of ads containing huge twerking asses in 4K.

You had most likely passed out on top of your vibrator the night before and wondered if the kinky Professor x Student role play porn on your anon tab was the reason you dreamt… that. Especially considering that today you had a criminal procedure lecture with the star of the M-rated movie your horny mind cooked just for you.

Is there anything worse than meeting someone you shouldn’t be interested in right after having those types of dreams with them?

Fun. So fun.

At least this time life spared you the little mercy of having no company after Nobara decided to sleep over at Maki’s again.

Carrying yourself with the few shreds of dignity you still had, you rolled out of bed, and while getting ready for that day’s class, a realization suddenly dawned on you.

Where is my red scarf?

***

Higuruma’s car.

The beat up 2015 Toyota Passo had a lot of personality as an old piece of junk that failed on the road more often than not, but even so, it had been his reliable companion for nearly a decade. Its glossy navy blue paint was covered in dirt, and Higuruma wondered to himself as he entered the vehicle that morning if he should perhaps take it out for a wash, which, in all fairness, he never did. The rain will wash it clean was his motto, one that rarely proved itself to be true.

His car was always crawling with old food wraps, random papers, spare change and some clothes. While Higuruma looked frantically for something to wrap around his neck in the cold — a beaten up old yellow shawl all weaved in sunflower patterns he received as a gift from his grandmother —, his phone rang.

Using a makeshift bluetooth haphazardly rigged up to the radio, Higuruma answered the call while twisting his arm beside the passenger seat.

“Hello, who is this?”

“It’s Kento, good morning.”

“Morning. May I ask why such an early call?” Higuruma asked with a strained voice while he dove down his seat, a hand reaching between the passenger seat and the handbrake.

“It’s not early. Actually, I thought I’d find you at the campus, but since you weren’t in the teacher’s lounge, I’m calling.”

“Oh, I’m just… late,” Higuruma muttered under a tense breath, still bending himself over while prying his scarf out of its death trap underneath the seat beside him.

“I figured that much. Are you on your way?”

“Kind of.”

Nanami found that reply to be suspicious, especially considering his friend’s usual antics.

“… Did your car break down again?” Nanami asked with a hint of judgement to his inquiry. If the Toyota Passo had a hater club, Nanami would be its president, especially considering all the times he found himself stranded with Higuruma by roadsides while on past trips. This was the main reason Nanami would never be caught dead taking a ride with his best friend nowadays if he could help it.

“Shh, don’t say that. It can hear you,” Higuruma chastised while half joking, being more acquainted with Murphy’s Law than he’d like to admit. It had turned him into a somewhat superstitions man, at least when it came to the Passo.

“Hiromi, that’s not how cars work.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” he quipped. Hearing Nanami sigh on the other side of the line was an amusement that served him some semblance of comfort as he battled his way through his current predicament. “Now, what did you want to speak to me about anyway?” 

Hitting just the right slant, Higuruma felt the already familiar wool-weaved pattern on the tips of his fingers.

“Well, it’s about what I told you last Friday,” Nanami ensued.

“Go on.”

As Higuruma contorted his limbs and spine on the driver’s seat in some sort of malevolent pilates while searching for a better position to pull his shawl up, he slowly elevated his arm with a firm grip on the thing, doing his best to not have it tangle on its way out. 

“We’ve allocated some revenue to open more departments in the Firm, and to make some changes to others. I’d like your input, if at all possible.”

Higuruma’s tie contracted uncomfortably around his neck with every wiggle his body made, prompting him to pull around it in a feeble attempt to not have his windpipe crushed. It worked, but barely, messing up his already disarrayed outfit even further.

“My input?” he asked, taken aback while adjusting himself in his seat. “I mean, I’d like to help, but I don’t know if my input is what you’re looking for. I didn’t have that many years of experience as a private lawyer.”

“But you do have a lot of experience dealing with a team of people working with you, and impossible criminal cases absolutely no one would accept.”

“One intern and one assistant,” Higuruma noted, “and those cases weren’t impossible. No case is, even in our Justice System.”

Nanami smiled softly before replying. “Okay, ‘remarkably challenging lawsuits’, then. In any case, we’re creating a criminal law defense department, and considering your experience, you input would be much appreciated.”

Higuruma managed to haul nearly the entire shawl out of its hideout, but before he could consider himself victorious, it got stuck.

He sighed.

“My input or my participation, Kento?” Higuruma asked, even if it wasn’t an actual question. “I know you. You’re not that smooth when attempting to get me on board for something. I remember all the times you casually mentioned a group project in college — which all coincidentally had themes I was studying in depth at the time — while trying to act all nonchalant about it.” 

Nothing gets past him, Nanami thought to himself at being caught red handed.

“Yes, I’d like your participation.”

Higuruma stopped in his tracks, and placed the pulled-up end of the shawl over the passenger’s seat, propping himself up to sit. In silence, he brushed his fingers over his temples, and remained like this for a few seconds, not realizing how his whole body had stiffened up like dried bamboo.

“Kento, I don’t think that’s a good idea, I just…” Higuruma mumbled as he let his forehead lay over the steering wheel.

“Do you trust my judgement?”

Nanami’s question came without missing a beat.

“Of course I do,” Higuruma replied, “I don’t know if I trust myself.”

“Let me worry about that,” Nanami interjected, “I’ve gotten other attorneys on board that can work with us. With you.”

With an uncertain hum, Higuruma cleared his throat.

“I’m… late. I should get going. And sort my damn scarf situation. It’s awfully cold today.”

“That hideous little thing with the sunflowers?” Nanami’s disdain was evident, and Higuruma chuckled.

“Morning, Kento.”

With that, the Professor ended the call, and put his whole mind to solving his current dilemma.

As a final Hail Mary, Higuruma held all he managed to pry out with a firm grip, and slowly descended his other hand, feeling his way over the piece in an attempt to find whatever was hooking it.

Quickly enough, his fingers met something else entirely. It had a softer texture, almost like old frizzly, worn out cotton.

Well, I think I’ve found the culprit.

With a careful tug, he pulled everything out, and a snaky, crimson, polka dot fuzzy worm surprised him. Upon further inspection, Higuruma realized that such horrid sight was actually your ugly red scarf entwined with his sunflower shawl.

This… what? How did her scarf end up here? 

Blinking once, then twice, the Professor found himself still completely dumbfounded. For a moment, Higuruma wondered if this was all a figment of his imagination. That is, until he recalled last Friday, and remembered you used your scarf to pat him dry after an accidental alcoholic skin care routine.

Out of all the things I could’ve picked up by accident, this is what I got? This hideous little thing? 

He snorted at the red polka dot scarf while holding it with the tips of his fingers, wondering if you’d really care to have this back.

Smiling to himself, Higuruma remembered the exchange, your laughter, and his eyes slid towards the cigarette butt from that day. It was currently shoved into the ashtray he kept right in front of his handbrake.

He noticed there was still a faint red stain around it. Against his better judgement, his mind wandered for a moment as he reminisced on the occasion, and how smoking that cigarette left a soft tinted smudge on his lips too, one that he noticed upon arriving home that night and looking at himself in his elevator’s mirror.

I… really shouldn’t. 

Shaking the thought away, Higuruma mindlessly spoke to himself as he turned the engine on.

“I have to give this back to her.”

If only his memory didn’t betray him just like his car — more often than not.

After an uneventful drive, Higuruma stood in front of the white board ready to resume his criminal procedure class as all of the students made their way into the classroom, including you. 

Picking a seat not too close to the main stage, you noticed that Professor Higuruma had his back turned to the rest of the class as he wrote something on the white board. That day, from what you could tell, he was wearing just a plain white buttoned shirt and linen black slacks, not accounting for a coat and whatever else he had haphazardly tossed over his desk like a ball of garments.

There seemed to be a small red something tangled right under his coat. 

Your dream prickled you in the back of your mind, and you cleared your throat trying to feign off the thoughts.

This is real life, at a real class, and not my Orpheus domain. This is real life… You kept repeating mentally to yourself, like a mantra. Even if his shirt draped perfectly over his shoulders and highlighted his slender build.

I’ll just focus on today’s class and that will get my mind out of the gutter.

Higuruma stepped back from the white board and the word “truth” was written on it. Before you could think anything about today’s main topic, though, he turned around to face the students, and your day just became that much more awkward.

For a second, you couldn't truly believe your eyes.

His tie — which at least wasn’t burgundy, nor satin — was crooked. Actually, truly crooked in the real life of real events during a very much real class.

My life is a bad joke and I’m the punchline.

You straightened your posture in your chair with the sudden piercing, delusional self-awareness that anyone who looked at your face would know telepathically what you were thinking, because your cheeks felt suspiciously warm. You tried brushing your bangs down your face to no avail, and a small lock of hair poked out of it like a sore thumb.

In an attempt to distract yourself from that nonsense, you tried as best as you could to check how Higuruma was looking like today — apart from the crooked tie, that was — and noticed his hair was more disheveled than usual. It seemed like he hadn't shaved for at least two days.

Finally, Higuruma ensued his grand introductory lecture on the value of truth for criminal proceedings, and you were actually listening to it.

Good. Deja vu is not Deja-vuing enough. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Truth. Who can tell me the three main concepts of truth in western philosophy?” Higuruma asked while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You saw a familiar hand raising in the very front row, and Higuruma nodded for the person to proceed. 

“The three main concepts of truth are the correspondence, coherence and consensus ones,” Megumi answered. 

“Exactly. The relevance of truth in legal proceedings has been an ongoing debate for centuries, and some lines of thought even consider it to be completely irrelevant. We won’t be tackling that. For those who think truth is important, the most well established position is that truth as correspondence is the one we should strive for, even if our true knowledge of facts that occurred in the past through evidence can be, at best, approximate.”

A few people nodded, and Higuruma continued his exposition.

“Truth as correspondence… In simple terms, a statement can be considered to be true if it corresponds to a fact that has happened in the real world. For example, by this, if I say ‘today I was at class at the inhumane time of 07:05AM’, and here we are at that very same time, it means my statement is true. In criminal proceedings, the truth finding task revolves around verifying if a crime has occurred or not, and in order to do such verification, we need evidence,” he paused for a moment and pulled a bottle of water from his briefcase, carefully putting it over his desk, “and one of the main types of evidence in criminal proceedings are witnesses’ testimonies.”

You were able to follow his exposition so far, and not get distracted by the crooked black ti-

Exposition. Truth. Witnesses. Focus, woman.

You could still feel the lingering sensation of his dreamt tie in between your fingers, and it wasn’t doing you any favors.

“What is a testimony? A testimony is basically someone’s account of an event they have witnessed, and formed a memory of through their senses — sight, hearing, etc. In that regard, it’s safe to say testimonies are a type of evidence that depends on memory, and human memory is fallible. What we can apprehend through our senses and actually remember is deeply affected by what we can or choose to focus on,” Higuruma concluded. 

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his tie once again. 

Goddammit.

The class was considerably peaceful so far, and you wondered if he would require a victim for his usual slaughter sessions. It would certainly serve the purpose of getting your mind out of your fantasies. Fantasies about running your fingers down the fabric of his clothes, clutching them, crumpling everything in the messiest-

“You.” 

His voice fished you out of your daydreams and into the very much real and concrete reality presenting itself. Subconsciously — involuntarily, perhaps — his finger pointed in your direction, and you knew you’d be the prey for that class’ expository capers.

“Please, step forward,” Higuruma asked as he stood beside his desk.

You did like you were told, as a robot would, and walked in his direction, ready for whatever insanity he had to throw your way this time. Perhaps a marker for the white board. Or the water bottle.

“So,” Higuruma proceeded, “we need police to retrieve information from people that may have witnessed a crime in order to investigate it. That’s usually how investigations begin.” He quickly paused to check if everyone was following, and resumed his explanation, “after the investigation is completed and someone is actually charged or indicted, these same people, the witnesses, will be asked to repeat what they told to police right in front of the judge or a jury. The main question is… how reliable is that initial information relayed to the police at the beginning of it all? How reliable are these testimonies that give the very foundation for a criminal proceeding to exist in the first place?” 

You didn’t know the answer to that question. You knew nothing, really, staring dumbly at your feet while trying to not make a fool out of yourself.

 Before you knew, Higuruma grabbed the water bottle that was on top of his desk and approached you. When he was about a foot away from you, his cologne seeped into every neuron dedicated to smelling you had inside your nostril. Musky, fresh, and-

I can’t deal with this.

You tried fixating your eyes on the bottle of water he seemed to be giving you — anything but his face, his eyes, his nose.

His tie.

When you touched the bottle, he retreated it, and you felt somewhat confused. Then, he leaned it towards you again, you tried grabbing it again, and he retreated it once more. 

Is he teasing? What… what is he doing?

“Do you guys see where I’m getting at?” Higuruma asked, pointing towards the water bottle.

He was met with silence.

Higuruma then pointed at you, and your focused gaze on the bottle that was damn near boring a hole through it. “This is what we call the ‘focus on the gun effect’. You can all see that so far, her eyes pay more attention to what I’m holding than on any of my features. If this were a gun in a stressful scenario, it would probably only heighten such effect even more.”

Sir, this is a stressful scenario.

Your eyes flickered to his tie right before landing on the bottle again, and he did notice your gaze wondering elsewhere, but didn’t think much of it. 

“So at the moment she’d be testifying and was asked to describe my features, how well do you all think she’d be able to do it, if she hasn’t paid any attention to my face, focusing only on object I was holding? How trustworthy would such a testimony actually be?”

Tired hangdog eyes, aquiline nose, thick black frame glasses, white dress shirt crumpled at the hem, loosened black tie crooked to the right, criminally good-looking forearms, black linen pants-

“You can go back to your seat,” he remarked, and you did your best not to stumble on your way back.

The rest of the class went on painlessly, and by the end, Higuruma sat at his desk, lumbering back on his chair. He pushed aside the bundle of coat-and-other-stuff-in-a-ball, took his briefcase and opened it up to grab a pile of paper sheets from it. Upon further inspection, you gulped, knowing full well what those were.

“Before you all go, for those who are also my criminal law students, please come by my desk and take your corrected exams with you.  Give some special attention to the questions you got wrong, I made a list of the most common mistakes in these and will start off our next criminal law lesson by correcting them with the class.”

Shortly after, a line formed in front of Higuruma’s desk, and one by one, each student took their exams in their hands, either grunting displeased or sighing relieved with their result, leaving the classroom subsequently. You occupied yourself with slowly putting your things into your backpack, knowing full well that the walk towards that exam — and how poorly you did in it — would feel like a walk of shame. Only after the line was nearly done that you actually made your way to it, dragging your feet each step closer to what felt like doom.

“Good morning, Professor,” you mumbled as you reached for your exam and picked it up.

“Good morning,” he offered, bowing his head.

For the lack of a better term, your exam sheet looked like a crime scene, completely scribbled with red pen ink all over it. The discontent in your expression must’ve been incredibly evident, because Higuruma  spoke immediately.

“You know, these tests don’t truly assess your actual knowledge of a subject. Not entirely. It’s also about knowing how to take the test, and how the questions are phrased.”

You nodded half-heartedly. 

“Mm-mhm, I know. I just… I felt like nearly every question here could have-”

“Two answers?” He promptly interjected.

“Yes!”

He acquiesced.

“In criminal law, most things are determined by which line of thought one chooses to interpret a topic. You were not the only student to struggle with this, don’t worry. It’s easier to learn how to take a test than to learn the actual subject,” Higuruma offered, and as you looked at him, he welcomed your gaze with a soft smile.

“Is it?” you inquired, shoving the sheet of paper into your backpack. You looked back at him, and your eyes involuntarily dipped towards his tie. You averted your gaze while silently coughing. 

My future is on the line and here I am obsessing over a stupid tie. God.

He lifted a brow, intrigued, and continued.

“Absolutely,” Higuruma said, “you see, these types of standardized tests are terrible. Take a look on question number 15, the one about excess in self-defense.”

“Oh, I remember that one! The question in which guy 1 killed guy 2 through choking because guy 2 tried to kill him first with a sharp object but dropped it accidentally, right?”

“That one.”

“I was unsure, because even though he ended up killing guy 2, to be a target of an attempted murder must be horribly stressful. I mean, with all the adrenaline and everything, sometimes the body just reacts by itself, and the person is not even thinking.”

“Exactly!” Higuruma responded, clearly getting excited by this little exercise, “but the ‘right’ answer was that it was an excess in self-defense, because given the method — choking —, he could’ve ’stopped at any time’. Could he, though? Shouldn’t that be up for debate instead of…” The Professor took the list of answers and shook it in his hand, “this?”

He looks so adorable when talking passionately like th- stop. 

You shook your head before continuing.

“Yes, I agree. However, there’s not much we can do other than learn how to take these exams in order to get to where we want to, right?”

Your voice sounded more disheartened than you thought it would, and your self-disappointment dripped from it in a saddened cadence. You looked like a cornered animal who had just accepted its fate. Higuruma noticed it, and looked the other way to take a moment before speaking again, mindlessly tugging around his already loosened tie. It seemed like it could fall from his neck anytime soon.

Jesus Christ Almighty, can you stop fidgeting with the thing already? You brushed your face in quiet discomfort, and he barely noticed it, too immersed into whatever he had simmering in his mind.

“The main thing is… I just hope you and the other students don’t think less of yourselves because of this short assessment test,” he stated, “college shouldn’t kill the hearts of people who have dreams just because the way it works is not suited for everybody from the get go.”

What he said touched some deeper part of you, one you weren’t usually much in contact with. You stood there silently letting his words sink in, and curiously, they did have some tranquilizing effect of sorts. It must’ve been a while, because Higuruma looked at you with confused eyes when you finally snapped out of it.

“Is everything okay, San-…” he coughed, “I mean… are you alright?”

Pulling yourself together, you drew in a breath before you replied. Once more, you slotted your hands through your hair and his eyes involuntarily peeped over your pseudo ahoge in your bangs before landing on your face again.

“Yes. It’s just what you said about dreams,” you began, “I was worried that this test would nuke my future dream of becoming a criminal defense lawyer, but… I doesn’t quite feel like it now, somehow? It feels like not all is lost, it’s just an exam.”

Higuruma listened to you attentively before sparing you a modest smile.

“I suppose so. We are allowed to falter and make mistakes, especially here, in a classroom. You’re here to learn, after all.”

You nodded.

“Thank you, Professor. Truly. Your words have really helped me,” you stated, not realizing the smile  all over your face in a beam while you bowed towards him, “and for whatever it’s worth, your classes inspire me even more to chase my dreams. You are an amazing teacher.”

Higuruma seemed surprised and retributed the gesture, bowing his head towards you, his own cheeks pooling a soft pink.

“It’s my honor and privilege to teach you all, and I hope you get to realize your dreams in the future.”

You sighed content, and you both remained silent for a short while. Considering the conversation was already done, you bid him a “bye” and turned on your heels to leave the classroom, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hm, may I ask something?” Higuruma inquired.

“Of course, Professor. What is it?”

“You kept looking at something on me, is my shirt dirty or something like that?” he asked, trying to look down and assess his state.

Your ears went deaf for a second with the blood rush from your thumping heart at the realization he had, indeed, noticed your stupid obsession. And for a split second, you wondered if you should explain it. The dream flashed through your mind, and better not obviously was the answer you arrived at.

“Ah, uh… your tie, it’s crooked, and- yeah, it’s just crooked. That’s it. I tend to notice these things,” you blurted out, letting each syllable tumble over the other carelessly. You did your best to pretend you were scratching your nose, just so you could hide the small flush you felt over your face.

Whatta’ lousy liar am I. 

“Oh.” Higuruma gently glided his fingers over his tie, and tightened it slightly around his neck, “thank you for letting me know, but I figure that’s okay. My crooked tie has not prevented me from teaching today, or my students from learning, I presume,” he jested, and you acquiesced trying to hold down a chuckle unrelated to his lukewarm joke.

“Well, thank you for the talk, Professor. Have a good day!” you said, finally making your way out the classroom.

The door closed behind you, and instead of getting up immediately, Higuruma found himself still caught up in the conversation you both just had, being brought back to his old memories, his own old dreams and how he had once lived them in the past before everything went wrong. It felt like eons ago.

 The Professor pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up his chat Nanami, thinking back on their earlier conversation.

“Dreams, huh?” a lonely Higuruma mused before typing, failing to realize he had been softly smiling to himself for the past minute.

HH: Kento, if you’re really going forward with this idea, you should put up a notice for an intern opening

NK: Already did, for two positions actually.

NK: Did you think about what we discussed earlier?

Sighing to himself, Higuruma finally got up, stretching his legs and arms as if he had been sunk in it for millennia. He picked his briefcase up in one hand, and pulled his coat with the other. As he did so, your red scarf fell on his desk beside his shawl, and Higuruma realized how human memory, more often than not, was indeed pretty fallible.

“Argh, dammit.”

PT. II WILL GET POSTED ON DEC 26TH

I had completely forgotten to feature this amazing fanart of chapter 1 (that I’ve already screeched about like a banshee on more than one occasion) when I posted chapter 2. Traffi, as always, this is STUNNING, I JUS- Thank you 🥹

all credits for this amazing art go to @traffi -

Tag list (updated):

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @killerplink

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu

[carisc4pshaw]

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

[lynzishell]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 30 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024🎉 (because rules were made to be broken)

TYSM for tagging me @herecirmsims, @elderwisp, and @changingplumbob 💖 As per usual, I went overboard... oops!

Before I forget -- I am going to tag @honeyjars-sims, @raiiny-bay, @havenroyals, @likelyamused, and @dandylion240 (ofc, feel free to ignore me if you've already done it, or if you just don't wanna)

JANUARY

We started the year in Sulani where Phoenix and Dawn got engaged! Let us all take a moment to remember the glory that was Phoenix with a tan 😍

I call this - My Love Affair with Brindleton Bay (Part 1)

I love them. This isn't even the greatest screenshot, but it will forever be one of my favorites. One day I will put together a collage of forehead kisses for these two.

FEBRUARY

My Love Affair with Brindleton Bay (Part 2)

Mario, Luigi, and Yoshi were always happy to steal focus when I needed to blur things happening in the background... 😏

Atlas forever being the best uncle in the world... and fascinated with his niece having his eyes

MARCH

Me peeking through the foliage while Phoenix introduces his wife and child to his mom... the only way he knows how 🥺🤍

APRIL

😂 Ok so March and April are pretty sparse... I took a break in the Spring because I was going through a breakup and a move. I spent that time focusing on things that made me happy - like writing The Past arc for the boys and laughing at Dawn's ridiculous in-game expressions 😂

MAY

I'm so glad I took that break because I was able to come back and give Phoenix and Dawn the wedding they deserved! I also LOVE these last two shots... After the party ended, those three were goofing off and having so much fun... and then giving Phoenix the MOST thoughtful gift... it still makes me tear up! 🥹

JUNE

And so it begins... This nightmare sequence was so much fun to put together! And this shot is by far my favorite... it was totally by accident, but oh so perfect

The Past my beloved... I love this shot sm... the morning light, the fall colors, Ash and Lex being Ash and Lex while Atlas tags along behind them (he'd only known Ash for 24 hours and was already crushing... poor boy didn't stand a chance)

Oh yeah! Remember Chestnut Ridge?! The way I jumped around in this part istg... You're all incredible for putting up with me this summer 😂 Okay but I love this one because of how all the animals are turned to look at Danny... again, a total accident, but perfectly foreshadows what I have in mind for his future!

Back the The Past - What's perfect about this one is how the only thing in focus is where they are touching.

I’m acutely aware that his leg is resting against me now, and he’s rolling the fabric of my sleeve between his thumb and middle finger. Normally, I would have already scooted away from the sofa. Pivoted my body so the conversation could continue, but so that I could not be touched. But I don’t feel any need to do that. Not with him. His affection is so subtle and absent-minded; I can tell he’s just feeling comfortable with me. Something about that makes me feel comfortable with him too.

JULY

AHHHHHH!!! I still lose my mind over this moment!!! Like... the way physical touch plays such a big role throughout this arc, and getting to see Atlas evolve from someone who always kept his distance from people to being the affectionate teddy bear he is today... and the way Ash is so sweet and mindful and considerate through it all...

And then I look down, down to where I feel his hand come to rest on my leg, the heat of it warming my thigh. “Is that okay?” He asks, “Do you want me to move my hand?” I look up into his eyes and shake my head slightly, “No. No, it’s okay.”

THEIR FIRST KISS!!!!! The tippy toes pls!!! 😭 I'm not gonna lie.... I forgot the entire purpose of this post and am now lost to reminiscing... I already miss this arc so much!!!

Taking my time, I brush my lips lightly against his before kissing him softly. Holding myself back, not because I’m unsure, but because I’ve never been more certain of anything. I want to savor this moment, commit it to memory so I can revisit it tomorrow, and every day after.

A brief look into The Present as these two make plans for the future that I will inevitably ruin for them because I felt compelled to go into CAS and play around with genetics and rewrite the entire ending to this arc. Sorry not sorry boys!

aaaand back to The Past for our first peek at Ash's POV as he realizes he may be falling for Atlas

Y’know, my biggest fear is drowning, especially in the ocean, and yet, my favorite place is the beach near my parents’ house, sitting right at the water’s edge. Being with Atlas, it reminds me of this place. The bright blue of his eyes, the sandy color of his hair, and the dusting of freckles across his nose. And the way being near him makes me feel just a little nervous, like at any moment I could get swept away and lose myself completely.

AUGUST

Oh yeah! Chestnut Ridge and Joey's cliche dad-logic moment! Seriously guys... thank you for putting up with my nonsense... But OMG! Did you know you can set the horses to buck riders off every time they try to get on? 10/10 recommend if you need a laugh! I had so much fun with this scene... Phoenix, on the other hand, did not 🫣

This one. You have no idea. I struggled SO MUCH with trying to figure this scene out... and only those in our discord writing group will know how I lost my mind when these poses were released and gave me the inspiration I needed... I'm pretty sure I shot this scene a month before I even started this arc because I couldn't get it out of my head... I should also add that these two died in process of making it, and I fucked up this lot while trying to place all the lights and decos via TOOL and had to start all over in another save (which worked out because the Romance Festival spawned in the new one making it all so much better and more lively)... I went through a lot for this shot, and I will hold it near and dear to my heart forever as a result.

SEPTEMBER

Just them. Holding hands. In The Present. 🥹 I just like this one a lot... it's actually the desktop background on my PC lol

A hazy dream in neon pink

Don't worry... they're JUST FRIENDS (who are clearly in love with each other and on mdma and suddenly can't keep their hands off each other)

As he backs himself against the wall, pulling me into him, I finally understand. “Is this okay?” he asks. I lean in so fast that I practically breathe the answer into his mouth, “Yeah,” and before I know it, we’re making out again. But this time is far more intense, our kisses deeper, our breathing ragged, our hands grabbing fistfuls of hair and clothing and clawing at skin as though our desire for each other has grown into some kind of wild animal. Finally free from its cage, there’s no going back now.

💛🩵💛🩵 What am I doing again? I think I've lost the plot...

OCTOBER

Oh yeah... fave screenshots of 2024! We're so back! San Myshuno my beloved

The Proposal 😭 Spoiler alert... they were never "just friends" ajsdkakljs Also, I had to exit and go back in game three times to keep those bright red/orange skies for this scene... worth it!

NOVEMBER

A glimpse of The Future... and bb is confused af

DECEMBER

Things are different now in ways they don't quite understand, but they have each other 🥹🩵💛

For the rest of our lives, we're in this together.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” she had encircled your waist with an arm as she walked you to the car. She had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.” 

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[steddieas-shegoes]

homemade with love

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'stocking'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 582 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff, good parent eddie, good parent steve

🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦

Eddie is sitting at the sewing machine when Steve walks in the kitchen, humming to himself with his tongue poked out in concentration. Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to interrupt whatever he’s so focused on.

The whirring of the sewing machine is loud, and Steve is a little worried it might wake Sawyer up after he just managed to get him to sleep for the night, but just as he’s about to say something, it stops. Eddie holds up what he’s working on and grins.

“It’s perfect.”

Steve raises a brow as he steps closer to see what he’s been working on.

It has the shape of a Christmas stocking, but it looks like-

“Rory gave me her old hockey socks to turn into a stocking for Sawyer. I fixed the hole in this one,” Eddie points to the gold one that’s taking up the backside of the stocking. “And sewed them together. The top part is the special ones we got her for holiday camp last year.”

“I see,” Steve takes it into his hands and flips it back over to the front. Eddie’s embroidered Sawyer Munson in gold to match the back. “He already has a stocking, though.”

“But that’s from a store. This is handmade. Way more special.”

Eddie is so excited, and Steve thinks it’s amazing the time he’s put into it, but one thing is at the front of his mind. Something that he knows Eddie didn’t purposefully ignore.

“Is Rory getting one?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s face falls.

“Shit.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t forget. I swear.”

“It’s okay. Rory has a special stocking so it wasn’t your first thought. I just wanna make sure it is a thought,” Steve says before kissing Eddie’s forehead and walking over to the fridge to get a drink.

Eddie is quiet. The sewing machine doesn’t start back up.

Steve looks over and sees him biting his lip, trying to hold back tears.

“Baby, it’s okay.” Steve walks back to him and pulls him close, holds his head against his stomach and runs his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t want her to feel forgotten,” Eddie admits, voice broken.

It was one of the biggest holdups they had with having a baby. They never wanted Rory to feel like they loved a child they had together more than they loved her. She would always be their first.

“She doesn’t.”

“I asked her for her old socks to make this! What if she thinks I love him more than I love her?”

Steve huffs out a small laugh. “She knows you love her so much. You don’t need to worry, baby. We could grab my old socks and make her one?”

“Could we?” Eddie tilts his head back, looking up at Steve with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Sure. I’ll get them now, but she’ll be dropped off soon so you may wanna wait to make it.”

Eddie nods and hands Steve the stocking he made for Sawyer.

“I’ll clean all this up and then make pancakes for dinner,” Eddie says excitedly.

Steve shakes his head fondly. “Just try to keep it down. Sawyer’s sleep-“ A cry is heard from Sawyer’s nursery and Steve sighs. “Never mind.”

Eddie gives him an apologetic smile, but continues his tasks.

Steve stops at the fireplace before going to Sawyer’s room, hanging up the new stocking and wondering how he got so lucky to have all this love in his home.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 6

summary: The Christmas Party is nearly here and while setting up decorations, Negan has other plans...

tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Alcohol Consumption, Flirting

word count: 5.9k

check out the previous part here!

It’s strange how much can change in just a week. Seven days ago, the mere sight of Negan was enough to make your stomach turn. Everything about him annoyed you. From his smirk to his little quips, to how his eyes would follow you. Everything!  

And from the way he had abandoned you at that Target parking lot, it was clear he felt the same. But here you are now, a week later, and things are just… different.

Wednesday morning goes by in a flash. When you aren’t trying to get your students to focus, you’re jotting down decoration ideas for the sports hall or texting Negan to arrange times to meet.

Only on professional business, per usual.

Although you have so much sorted for the party, everything still feels like a frantic blur. Other teachers talk to you about last minute presents they can’t track down. Meanwhile, the kids are practically counting down the minutes, each one trying to power through the day just to get a little closer to the holiday break. 

No one wants to be here and yet you’re all stuck in school for a few more days; one last push before freedom.

A rhythmic knock echoes at the classroom door, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Without waiting for a response, Carol pokes her head in, a bright smile on her face. Some kids meet her look with big grins of their own, completely buying into her happy-go-lucky persona.

You give her a smile too but you know when she’s putting up a front.

You have most of your students writing stories, giving them a page quota and letting their imaginations run wild. None of them are doing it though, too busy chatting with friends, sneakily going on their phones and asking you to play Christmas music.

“Hi!” Carol greets you, throwing a quick glance behind her to make sure the students are too busy chatting to pay attention. 

Clearing her throat, she hovers by the edge of your desk and whispers “I see you didn’t take my advice”.

Your eyebrows knit together and you pull your chair closer to her. “What? What advice?” You question, tone full of curiosity. 

“When I told you to keep your head down and just plan the party, I didn’t mean put your head down on Negan’s thing!”.

You almost blurt out a string of “What’s,” “No’s,” and “As if’s,” but you catch yourself just in time, not wanting to draw the attention of your students. Instead your mouth just opens, a strangled sound of what could be a scoff coming out. 

“I haven’t been anywhere near his thing!” You quietly protest “Negan and I are just working on the party, nothing more, nothing less!”.

The look on her face says she doesn’t believe you. “So you just like sending each other pictures? Nothing physical?” Carol asks pointedly, making you feel like a student getting reprimanded. 

As subtly as you can, you throw your hands up “Ok, so this is all coming from Sherry and the dick pic rumor?”.

Jingle Bell Rock starts playing down the other side of the class and you have to quickly remind Enid not to play it too loud before turning back to Carol. 

She looks at you with her arms crossed “Yes, Sherry mentioned pictures but also, it’s a little obvious with how Negan’s acting”.

You raise your eyebrows at that, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you know what I walked into today when I went into the teacher's lounge?” she asks, her voice taking on a dramatic tone “Negan, laughing with Eugene”.

She lets the words hang in the air, revealing it like the twist in a horror story, expecting you to react the way she clearly wants.

“I don’t think I follow…” you admit truthfully.

Carol sighs, looking like she’s about to pick up a book and try to knock some sense into you. “Negan was laughing with Eugene,” she repeats “not laughing at Eugene, like he normally does”.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smirk that’s desperate to break free. “Maybe he’s finally found the meaning of Christmas?” you suggest, offering up an explanation.

Carol doesn’t appreciate the joke. 

“He’s different, I’ll give you that,” she says, her gaze locking with yours. It’s not a glare, but an intense stare that makes you feel like she’s trying to drill her words into you, as if she needs you to understand now more than ever. 

“But he’s still Negan. And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid” she continues.

You purse your lips, torn. You don’t want to defend Negan, especially when Carol is technically right. But you also know there’s more to him than what she sees. You opt to stay quiet.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish,” Carol gives you the harsh truth “He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him. Either way, you’re not winning”.

It almost makes your mood falter, the harsh reality check of who Negan is. But then you remind this is just her perspective, shaped by the rumors she’s heard and the small glimpses she’s caught.

Carol hasn’t seen him getting dodgeballs hurled at him or witnessed Negan falling on his ass while ice skating. There’s a different side to him that you’re more privy to.

And so you shrug nonchalantly “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind”.

“Keep it in mind?” Carol repeats, her voice laced with a thin edge of disbelief. She has a talent for making every answer you give sound like the wrong one.

With a sigh, she adds “Oh, he has you wrapped around his finger and you don’t even know it”.

Sticking to your story, you calmly reply “Negan’s just a friend, that’s it. I get that he has this… charisma but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in him”.

Carol keeps her face neutral, her eyes studying you like she can detect if you’re lying. “Sure, if you say so,” she cautiously concedes “but that’s not the impression everyone else is getting”.

You let out a long groan, putting your head in your hands.

“But I’ll drop it,” she quickly says as you groan “…but if something happens, I called it first”.

“Carol!” You exclaim before looking around at the busy students “Um, I mean, Ms Peletier!”.

She chuckles at your quick correction. With a final glance, she heads toward the door. “I’m just looking out for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you” her words hang in the air and before you can respond, she disappears out the door.

As your classes go on, Carol’s words echo in your head. No matter how much you try to push it away or deem it ridiculous, it lingers. 

You know Negan. You’ve been on his good side and his bad side and yet, you’re still here. You’ve got it all under control.

There’s no crush, no hidden feelings lurking in the corners of your mind and most definitely no secret hook ups or nudes being sent. 

By the time you get to visit Negan, your lingering thoughts are replaced by nervous fretting about the party. 

You already gave him the heads up that you wanted him up a ladder and putting up the tinsel and lights you had bought. But in true Negan fashion, by the time you get to visit the sports hall, he isn’t the one up a ladder.

“Carl, I know you’re just fucking with me now,” he has his hands on his hips, not even holding the ladder “just tape the lights up there! It doesn’t have to look all fancy!”.

“I know,” the tense voice of his student retorts.

“You know? Then why the fuck are you doing a ‘will they, won’t they’ routine with lights and tinsel?” Negan barks out before remembering how an essential part of hand-eye coordination just so happens to be eyesight. 

“Y’know what, just come down and I’ll get my own ass up there” he sighs, practically slapping his hand off his forehead. 

“Looks like I came just in time,” you speak up, alerting Negan to your presence. He looks back with a smile, sizing you up and down. 

Gesturing to the ladder, he asks “Why, you gonna volunteer?”.

“Nope but I’ll hold the ladder for you,” you offer. Walking over, you wait until Carl’s feet touch the ground before giving him a grateful smile for trying. 

Negan steps up next, turning back to his class and ordering them to start moving some tables in here and to pretty them up with tinsel.

“Hope ya don’t mind I got started without ya,” Negan grunts as he begins his ascent up, lights wrapped around one arm and tape in the other.

You hold the ladder steady, purposefully not looking up. 

“It’s fine,” you reply “but won’t the decorations get in the way of your classes tomorrow?”. 

Glancing around, you see Negan’s class fully focused on the mission at hand; some are following his orders and lifting in tables, two are racing up and down as they sweep the floors, others make paper chains and snowflakes with what they can find, hanging them up on the walls.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Negan steadies himself at the top of the ladder “if the weather’s fine tomorrow, I’ll have them run laps outside”.

Through a series of huffs and grunts, you can only assume Negan is getting the lights and tinsel to stay. You hear strips of tape being tore off, the rustling of the tinsel and then… whistling?

You look up. How could you not look up when he’s deciding now is a great time to whistle?

But it’s a trap. 

Grinning down at you, Negan lets out a dark chuckle. “Look at you appreciating the view” he teases. Instantly averting your eyes, you make an act of putting your hand up to shield him from your view. 

“Asshole” you mumble just loud enough for only him to hear. You get a chuckle in response before Negan goes back to work.

“So if the hall’s going to be done by the end of the day, what’re we supposed to do tomorrow?” You ask.

“We got a special job tomorrow,” Negan says vaguely “we’re getting domestic”.

He purposely makes you wait until he’s done taping up the lights and tinsel before revealing more “Dear ol’Jesus— the school counselor, not the other one, has made a donation to our cause”.

“Is that so?” You allow yourself to look up at him once he starts his descent down, meeting him with a skeptical look when he’s off the ladder.

“Yup,” he smirks, tongue peeking out of his mouth as he revels in your reaction “we got a Christmas tree to put up!”.

“What?!” Is the only thing you can manage to say, your brain struggling to catch up with the absurdity of the situation.

Negan nods “He gave us a tree, balls to hang off it, a fuckin’ star for the top”.

You blink at him in disbelief. “First off, they’re called baubles, not balls,” you correct him, but even as you say it, you’re still trying to process the entire scenario “And second… just— what?”.

Negan tilts his head, his smirk never fading “I know but balls are better, and I raise your what to a what the fuck”.

“Well, why don’t we put it up now? Or after school if you’re free” you suggest, trying to keep the momentum going.

Negan sighs, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry, doll. I got plans… and so do you.”

You furrow your brow. “I do?” you ask.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, his tone impossibly casual, as if the answer should be obvious “it’s my turn to take you on a date”.

You laugh, shaking your head despite appreciating the gesture “Negan, no, you don’t have to do that”.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Oh, c’mon. You took me out, and you didn’t even expect me to put out,” he winks mischievously “it’s my turn to wine and dine you”.

You hesitate, clearly torn. You want to accept and Negan’s offer is tempting in ways you’re not willing to admit, but you’re not about to let yourself get swept up in whatever this is. 

Carol’s words from early ring out in your head. 

“Well…” you start, fidgeting with your fingers as if the words are stuck in your throat “I don’t think another round of ice skating would be a good idea”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face “Who mentioned that? No, no, no, I’m going all out this time”.

You try to keep your voice even, but there’s a part of you that’s already imagining whatever plan he has. You swallow the feeling down, just barely. 

“So… what did you have in mind?”

He leans back, eyes gleaming as he watches you “You said you haven’t been to the Kingdom yet, right?”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The second you walk through the heavy wooden doors of the Kingdom, you're met with the rich scent of roasted meats and herbs.

The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the room, with flickering candlelight atop sturdy wooden tables, each surrounded by plush velvet chairs.

The walls, lined with dark oak panels, are adorned with tapestries depicting medieval scenes; knights on horseback, feasts in great halls, ancient forests.

As the server leads you through the restaurant, he brings you and Negan to a table near the back. Close by, a stone fireplace crackles softly, the flames dancing in the hearth. 

“Negan, how did you even get a booking here so close to Christmas?” you ask once you’re both alone and left with the menus.

He lets out a stiff laugh “Between you and me, the place had plumbing issues a few years back and I don’t think its reputation ever recovered”.

Your face says it all but Negan quickly reassures you “It’s all sorted now so don’t worry if you need to use the shitter”.

With a playful scoff, you pick up your menu “You can’t say ladies room? Or bathroom?”.

“Oh, well I would be nice and polite if this was a date,” he says it so brazenly with that perfect white smile of his “so, doll, is this a date?”.

You open your mouth to answer when the server comes back over “My dude and dudette! Have we decided on food? Or some drinks to start you off?”.

Giving Negan a quick, playful glare, you turn to the menu and decide on which drinks to have.

The candlelight flickers gently on the table as you order drinks. Since Negan has insisted on driving tonight, you’ve decided to treat yourself to a cocktail, the house special to be exact. Shiva a lá Tigress. 

The buzz of quiet conversations act as background noise, merely there to set the mood.

Negan’s shoulders relax as he leans back in his chair, the deep lines of his face softened by the warm glow of the table. He’s wearing a smile tonight but you don’t doubt that it could become a mischievous smirk within seconds. 

You can’t help but notice the leather jacket that clings to his broad shoulders, the worn material perfectly shaped to his frame. As much as you’re reluctant to admit it, the jacket makes Negan look effortlessly handsome, a perfect combination of rugged and rebellious. 

The conversation flows non-stop, especially since you have your cocktail in front of you. He talks with that charmingly cocky confidence that used to irk you endless but since then, you’ve grown accustomed to it. 

For dinner, you keep your order simple, while Negan goes all out with steak and roasted vegetables. He’s always been partial to something he can sink his teeth into and tonight's no different. 

“So, you heading back home for the holidays?” Negan asks before clarifying “I mean, family home”.

You go to shrug but stop yourself, the question throwing you off guard to the point that you can’t pretend to be nonchalant. “Actually, I was going to stay here for Christmas” you take a sip of your cocktail to distract yourself. 

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. His smirk softens into something more thoughtful, though it’s hard to tell if he's surprised or just curious.

"Staying here for Christmas, huh?" he repeats, his tone warm but carrying that edge of skepticism only he can manage "No family to visit? No friends back home?".

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, a mix of curiosity and maybe just a hint of concern—though it could just be him enjoying the chance to poke at something unexpected. He swirls his glass of Coke before taking a sip as you debate what to say.

For once, the man is patient.

You can feel the weight of the question. It's not one you expected and that's only one of the reasons it makes you uneasy. Shrugging, you steal a small roast potato off of his plate. 

“I just want some space, I guess,” you bite into the potato before you continue “I want a nice, relaxed Christmas and this is the first time I have an actual excuse not to go back home for Christmas”.

Negan watches you swipe the potato, his lips twitching into an amused grin, but he doesn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he thinks it over, eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. When you finish speaking, he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"First time with an excuse, huh?" he murmurs, the tone half-wistful, half-knowing. 

"Well, sometimes the holidays aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, you know? Family’s great and all, but... sometimes you just need a break from all the noise” Negan taps the side of his glass thoughtfully "I get that. Hell, I’ve skipped a few of those big family gatherings myself".

He shrugs, his eyes flickering to the plate but you can see he’s not really focused on the food anymore “So, you’re not used to relaxed Christmas’?”. 

You glance up from his plate, finding the question oddly direct but it’s clear he’s genuinely curious now. You take another bite of the potato, chewing slowly before setting it down.

“I don’t think anyone in my family knows how to have a ‘relaxed’ Christmas,” you say with a dry laugh, shrugging “It’s always... loud, busy, everyone trying to outdo each other. Or if it’s not that, it’s just a whole lot of awkward silences and forced smiles”.

You take another bite, letting the quiet settle in for a moment. “I don’t even know if I’d know what to do with myself if I had one of those perfect, calm Christmases you see in movies. Maybe that's why it feels like the right time to just... take a break. For once” you try to explain.

Negan gives a low, thoughtful hum “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to just step back, take a breath. No noise, no expectations”.

He leans back in his chair, a little more relaxed now "Maybe that's what Christmas is supposed to be, huh? Just... doing what feels right".

There’s something in his voice—maybe the quiet understanding—that feels like he's speaking from experience, not just making small talk.

“So, what’s Ms. Goody Two-Shoes’s idea of a perfect Christmas?” Negan asks, his grin widening as he throws the playful jab your way.

You giggle at the nickname, shaking your head a little. You pause for a moment, thinking about it. What would a perfect Christmas look like for you? You’re not sure, but one thing’s for sure—it wouldn’t be like the ones from your past. 

“Hmm,” you murmur, tilting your head as you contemplate the question. “Lazing around all day, eating whatever I feel like, and watching Christmas movies on repeat. Sounds like heaven to me”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “The Hallmark ones?” he teases, smirking at the thought of you glued to the TV watching all the over the top, feel good holiday rom-coms.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “No, no. Whatever ones I come across. Doesn’t matter if they’re cheesy or weird or action packed. I’m not picky”.

You take a moment to think about it, the image of you sprawled out in front of a TV playing reruns of Christmas movies filling your mind. “Honestly, I think I just want something... low-key. No pressure to impress anyone, no forced cheer. Just me, snacks and maybe an ugly Christmas sweater”.

Negan’s smile softens, studying you for a second "Yeah, I can see that. No expectations, no drama. Just... doing whatever feels right in the moment. Not a bad way to spend the holidays". 

You can feel the weight of his words and for a second, it almost feels like you’ve stumbled into a little unspoken understanding between you two. But then you remember that this is just two friends having dinner.

There’s nothing more to it. You’re not about to get tangled up in whatever attraction this is. It’s not like Negan is the type of person who does relationships or anything more than a hookup. 

As Carol’s warning from early ring in your head again, you take another sip of cocktail. 

You try to rid your mind of his laugh— genuine and deep, or the glint in his eyes whenever your gaze meet. No, that warmth that makes you want to melt isn’t important. That’s just how everyone feels when they look at their friends! 

…right?

Both your phones go off at the same time, a sharp ping cutting through your drifting thoughts. For a split second, neither of you react, the phones interrupting the nice moment.

Before you can pull your phone out, Negan already has his on the table. The screen glows bright and he glances down, fingers tapping quickly to unlock it.

You’re unsure whether you should look or not but without saying a word, Negan tilts the phone so you can see the group chat from his phone. 

Gregory: staff party friday can only go on until 11! Everyone needs to leave the premises by then

You can't help but groan. "Ugh... We don’t have to stay the whole time, right? Like, we’re not obligated or anything?"

Negan chuckles, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "As far as I’m concerned, the second that party kicks off, it’s no longer our problem".

You’re about to take another drink when Negan leaves the group chat messages and goes back on to his list of messages with his various contacts.

You were at the top of the list due to Negan and you messaging during school about your dinner dat– … dinner meeting, but Gregory’s message into the group chat has knocked you into second place.

You catch a glimpse of your name sitting by the top and a confused look shadows your face. Yes, it technically is your name but the brackets after it is what throws you off guard.

You lean in, squinting to get a better look, and read aloud “Good ass, great throw?”. 

The words hang in the air, your voice wavering slightly as you glance up at Negan. His expression shifts instantly, that sly grin fading into something closer to a deer in the headlights moment.

Without missing a beat, he swipes his phone off and locks it, a little too quickly. 

"Uh..." he starts, but his usual confidence is nowhere to be found now. He shifts, looking anywhere but at you "You... didn’t just see that". 

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. "Good ass, great throw, huh?" you repeat, drawing the words out “that’s all you have to say about me?”.

Negan clears his throat, looking a little flustered for once. "Yeah, well, uh, I mean it is the truth, doll”.

“Uh huh,” you respond, waiting a few beats before playfully slapping his arm “you’re weird”.

He laughs at your brief assessment, relaxing now that you’re not storming out. “Well, it used to say good ass, weird at flirting”.

You blink in mock outrage “I am not weird at flirting!”

Negan gives you a slow, calculating look, his grin widening like he’s about to watch some sort of show “Alright, then. Prove it to me”.

You raise an eyebrow, instantly skeptical “Prove what, exactly?”.

“Flirt with me! Show me you actually got some game,” he laughs at your innocent question.

You take a slow breath, a bit taken aback but determined to play along.

You lean forward slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk. "You want me to flirt with you?" you say, your voice laced with a quiet challenge "I mean, I’m not sure you’re worth the effort but I guess I can make an exception".

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. His smirk widens “Oh, so we're starting with the sass, huh? I like it”.

You giggle, running a finger along the rim of your drink, eyes never leaving his. "I’m not being sassy, just honest," you continue, gesturing to the leather jacket "Like I can be honest and tell you that I’m liking the whole ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ thing you got going on”.

His eyes glint with amusement and he shifts slightly, clearly enjoying the game. “Well, well, look at you, getting all bold. You think you can handle a guy like me?”.

You laugh softly, your tone low and teasing “I don’t know, it would be a tight fit”. To make sure he gets what you’re saying, you give him a slow once-over, letting your eyes roam down his chest… then down his torso… to where the table blocks your view. 

Negan’s smirk falters as he lets out a low groan, his expression shifting. “You want to get out of here?” His voice is gruff and there’s something in it that makes you think he’s serious.

“I think we’ll have to,” you agree before you break your act and nod towards the approaching waiter “here comes the bill”.

Reluctantly, Negan pulls his gaze away from you, his eyes flicking toward the waiter. He lets out a heavy sigh, then shoots you a playful glare, clearly not thrilled about the interruption. 

Before he can say anything else, the waiter arrives at the table, ready to settle the score.

Negan pays the bill without even asking if you’d like to split it, putting a couple of bills down on the table and nodding to the waiter.

You both stand and he gestures for you to head out first, the tension between you still palpable despite the evening winding down.

As you both step out of the restaurant, the sharp winter air hits you immediately, biting through your clothes. You’re just about to pull your coat tighter when you feel the warmth of Negan’s leather jacket settle over your shoulders, his actions wordless. 

The smooth, worn leather feels surprisingly comforting against the chill, and for a moment it’s as if the cold doesn’t exist. You glance up at him, but he’s already heading towards his truck.

You follow, trying to will yourself not to smell his scent from the jacket.

The drive back is quiet at first, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of a turn signal. The soft glow of streetlights flickers through the windows, casting shadows that seem to accentuate the unspoken energy between you. 

Every now and then, you’ll give him a direction back to yours. Considering you’ve had your cocktail, all you can do is accept the ride home from your friend. You can feel his eyes on you, how he always turns to look your way whenever he doesn’t need to be paying attention to the road.

“And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid”.

The car moves smoothly through the night but the air feels charged, thick with the remnants of your banter from dinner.

It’s calm, almost intimate, but you can’t ignore the underlying tension— like the quiet before a storm, neither of you know how it’ll break but it will, eventually.

When he pulls up outside your home, you take a deep breath and say what you’ve been debating the whole ride home.

“I’m not inviting you in,” you make clear, despite the hesitancy in your eyes “we know where that would lead…”.

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he turns to you, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” he replies, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish”.

“I’ve had a really good night, though,” you add quickly, wanting him to know you’re not brushing off the evening entirely. You unbuckle your seatbelt slowly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before you slip his leather jacket off your shoulders. 

You hand it back to him but Negan doesn’t take it. Instead, his hand moves in a fluid motion, past the jacket and gently cupping your wrist before you can pull away.

The quiet hum of the engine fills the space between you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the contours of your hand. The air in the car feels thicker now, charged with something deeper, something neither of you can put into words. 

His eyes stay on you as if nothing could pull his gaze away from you now. Negan shifts slightly, his posture more serious.

“I gotta ask,” he starts, his voice low but steady, “are you gonna keep on pretending these aren’t dates?”.

It’s tempting to play it off, to keep it light and avoid the question altogether but the truth is, you know it too. There’s more to this— more to the connection between you than just a night out or playful teasing while planning the party.

Yeah,” you admit, your voice soft “I guess these are dates.” 

The truth feels strange coming out, but the moment you say it, you feel something inside you shift. It’s like a door has opened and suddenly, everything is laid bare between you.

You lean in just a little, your breath mingling with his, and for a heartbeat, you almost forget to breathe. His lips are so close and the moment feels so right, you can’t resist anymore.

“He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him”.

Negan’s grin widens but it’s softer now, like he’s relieved. He leans in closer, the air between you crackling with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just a hair’s breadth from yours.

And then, the tension breaks.

Without another word, Negan leans in and the space between you closes in an instant. His lips meet yours with a quiet, urgent tenderness, as if all the teasing, all the moments leading up to this, have been building to this one perfect kiss.

Time slows as you kiss him back, the world outside reduced to nothing more than the heat of his lips and the fluttering of your heart.

It’s slow at first as if you’re both savoring the simple act, but soon it deepens— more pressing, more urgent, as if neither of you wants to let the moment slip away.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull back just enough to catch your breath, foreheads touching and a quiet laugh is shared between you. The air is still thick with desire, but now there’s a warmth, a certainty, that wasn’t there before.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

“You’re still not coming inside” you murmur, grinning up at him before you rethink what you’ve just said. “My apartment!” you clarify “You’re not coming inside my apartment!”.

“Fair but don’t think this’ll be the last time I’m taking you out” his words carry a promise but there’s something deeper in his tone, a kind of vulnerability you didn’t expect from the infamous womanizer.

“Goodnight, Negan,” You give him one last lingering glance then slowly slide the truck door open.

He watches you for a beat longer, a half-smile still playing on his lips. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he responds, his voice carrying something more than the usual casual goodbye.

As you make your way up the path to your door, you can’t help but feel a sense of giddiness, like you’re walking on air.

It’s baffling to think Carol was so wrong about him but you can only assume that’s the result of so many people brushing Negan off as an asshole.

You don’t know what the future holds, but tonight, something changed, and you can’t wait to see where it goes.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Thursday. Just today, classes tomorrow and then it’s on. Party time. 

You rush around the school, genuinely panicked that it’s already midday and you still haven’t located Sherry.

You need to know the details; what food specifically will she be making for the party? Will she only prepare it and you have to cook it before or will it be ready to go? How much food is she making? Does she seriously believe Negan’s dick pic story?

To make matters worse, you haven’t seen Negan all morning too, setting back your plans to decorate the Christmas tree. 

Like a beggar, you stay in the stoop of your classroom, unable to leave your students unattended but yearning to track down the cafeteria worker. Whenever a colleague passes by your classroom, you barrage them with questions, hoping someone else might know what you so evidently don’t.

“Have you seen Sherry today?” is the question you start with.

Morgan, or, Mr Jones to the kids, keeps walking as he replies “I’ve been clearing the corridors all morning and I haven’t seen her once”.

Next, you ask Eugene, who gives you the most unhelpfully detailed answer. “Well, uh, truth be told, I don’t exactly have that particular piece of information in my possession,” he starts “if I did, I would certainly share it. But as of now, I am, regrettably, not privy to her current whereabouts”.

Carol thankfully didn’t stop either when you asked her, knowing she’d be able to read your face and know that something happened between you and Negan.

“Maybe she just isn’t in yet?” she suggests before going off to her own class.

Rosita, on the other hand, simply says “No”.

It’s only during the short break between classes are you able to quickly do a lap of the school, peering into the cafeteria and staff room as you go. But once again, no luck.

Walking back to your next class, who are no doubt going crazy now that they’re teacher is late, you catch a glimpse of a certain brunette out the window. 

In the teacher’s parking lot, Sherry huffs as she gets out of her car. You see her mouth move, as if she’s talking before shutting the car door. Not seeing anyone else around, you assume she’s on the phone and decide to wait until later to bombard her with questions.

But then the passenger’s door of her car opens. You recognise the tall frame, the slicked back hair and the greying stubble.

Negan. Arriving to work with Sherry. In her car. Together.

Your throat tightens and you’re not sure if you want to cry or punch something. Turning on your heels your feet go into autopilot as they bring you back to your classroom.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 6

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss?

Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. chapter warnings/ tags: embarrassing situations, porn, thigh fucking, teasing, Joel snoring.

“Hey! I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Jeeeeesus, I feel like such an asshole.” Joel is speaking fast and with apologies all tethered to his words. “I’m real sorry. I left my phone n’ keys in my brothers truck after he dropped me off from the bar last night. Feel like a dick. Didn’t get my shit back ‘till just now when he dropped ‘em off t’me.” Joel sighs loudly. “I’m sorry. Hope yer’ not mad at me.” He sounds fretful. Worried.

“No. Not at all. I get it. Shit like that happens.” That does come out of you very casually. 

“I got worried as hell when you didn’t text or call. Nothin’. I thought fer’ sure you were gonna think the worst, block my number. Never talk t’me again.” Joel chuckles nervously. 

“Nah. I was hanging out–”

“Readin’ yer’ spooky stories?” Joel asks before you can finish and now… you might be in love with him. Fuck. 

“Yeah… I was actually.” You smirk against the phone like an idiot. 

“You wanna… come read ‘em here? I just watch football on Sunday… but, I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to just come, I dunno, sit in my lap and hang out. Could smoke, drink a lil.” Joel speaks quietly and almost bashfully. You dunno.

You’ve done worse things in your life behind the wheel of a car, okay? You’re not even drunk. Not even a little. Nope. Feel bad for driving under the influence? Absolutely. But, you’re fine. You took your time packing your lil spend the night bag with your stuff for work tomorrow because he said you should stay the night. Okay. You’re calm and cool. Not overly excited. You brought your laptop so you could comfortably read your ‘spooky stories’ aka real life murders that have taken place. Joel is so cute. Fuck.

When you get to Joel’s house it’s almost two in the afternoon. You guys still have most of the day to spend together and hang out before you have to really go to bed. No more all nighters. Neither of you were children. He’s sitting on his front porch in one of those nice wooden rocking chairs. He has two of them. They’re big and sturdy and look kinda cozy, actually. He is at your door, opening it for you before the truck is even off. He doesn’t let you get out, he runs his hands along your thighs as you turn to face him in an attempt to jump down. 

“Sorry.” Joel smiles up at you apologetically and continues moving his hands up and down your legs softly. 

“Should be.” You tease him but lean in and give him a small, fast kiss. He hums happily in response and holds his hand out. You go to put your hand in his but he pulls it away with a sucking noise on his teeth. You pinch your brows together at him and he holds his hand out again, saying nothing. You look and he wants the two bags you have in your hand. 

“Lemme carry ‘em.” He says after a second you you hesitating. You eye him up and down. 

“Why?” You’re not suspicious or anything. You know he’s being a gentleman… you just… dunno. It’s weird. 

“Y’serious? Really?” Joel grabs the bags and the gentleman leaves him as he abandons you in the truck and starts towards the house. You roll your eyes and follow him inside. He’s walking upstairs already and you’re chasing him up, touching the backs for his thighs and his ass and he’s swatting your hands away. 

“S’no fun, is it?” You tease him and squeeze his ass playfully through his jeans. He jumps and glares at you over his shoulder. 

“S’fun when I do it to you.” he grins as you get to the top of the stairs. “Real fun.” 

“Oh, I bet it is.” You grin back at him as he walks into his bedroom. He sets your bags on his bed and turns to you. 

“Football’s on. Wanna come sit n’ smoke with me while I don’t pay attention?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

“Why wouldn’t you be payin’ attention?” You bat your eyelashes at him and smirk. 

“‘Cause my team sucks— what do you mean?” Joel gives you his goofy, dumb smile and wraps an arm around your waist. “I am real sorry. Feel bad y’probably waited up fer’ me n’ I didn’t call. I sat here all night just feelin’ bad.” Joel whispers before he kisses you softly. “Don’t wanna make y’sad.” 

“I wasn’t sad.” You lie. You lie so hard because you’re not gonna let him know you were sad. You don’t get sad over boys. You already cried once because you thought he went home after he ate you out. No. He won’t know it. 

“Well good. I’m glad y’weren’t cryin’ in bed. I don’t want ya doin’ that over me.” He kisses you again softly. You kiss him back but are thinking about a casual way to ask if he’s interested in marrying you really quick. You just wanna know what it feels like to be married to him and then everything can just, go back to normal. 

“I was a lil disappointed but, I didn’t let it ruin my night.” You lie again.  Joel smiles and kisses your forehead now. 

“Good.” Is all he says. “Get yer’ spooky stories n’ lets go smoke n’ I have a bottle of somethin’ downstairs.” He smirks as he walks towards the door but he waits for you. You grab your laptop and follow him down into the living room. He has a nice big, brown suede couch and a matching recliner. An ottoman to put your feet on. A table on either side of the couch. You set your laptop down and follow him into the kitchen just so happy to be here and be with him. You weren’t expecting to see him ever again. So, this is exciting. You’re not trying to hide that. You want him to know you’re happy to see him. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday after you dropped me off?” You ask as he grabs a cup and a decently priced bottle of whiskey and sets them next to each other. 

“I did. Groceries n’ normal bullshit. Had to get my laundry from the cleaners.” He explains. 

“You don’t do your own laundry?” You are slightly entertained by this for some reason. 

“Hell no.” Joel shakes his head and grabs ice from the freezer. “Haven’t done laundry since Sarah moved out.” He’s chuckling now as he puts the ice in the glass. 

“Did you… make her do your laundry before that?” You squint your eyes at him. 

“Hell no.” Joel says again but he laughs now. “I did mine n’ she did her own when she got old enough.” He laughs and pours whiskey into your glass half way and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Do you need… a coke or somethin’?” He says it with a wrinkled nose. You laugh at him. 

“Are you a whiskey snob? If y’are… I got a good story for ya… it’ll piss ya right off.” You smirk and lean against his counter. “I do want a coke.” You grin. Joel groans loudly and goes back to the fridge. 

“Let’s hear this good story, lil girl.” Joel rolls his eyes and doesn’t sound amused already. 

“You ever heard of The Reach—” You start but Mr. Miller finishes. 

“81? I sure have. Why? Y’know ‘bout it?” He pulls his head back from the fridge and stares at you with heightened eyebrows. 

“I do. Have you ever had it?” You ask curiously. Joel shakes his head no but stays quiet. “There is some back at my house– Cody is a huuuuuuge whiskey guy. I had no idea. None. Just thought it was like… expensive, ya know?” You nod at him and he nods back and then frowns before you can finish. 

“You put that into a Coke?!” Joel is so upset with you. So hurt, and so disappointed. 

“I didn’t know how much it cost!!” You exclaim.

“Almost more than my house!!” Joel almost shouts at you but it’s funny. “Jeeeeesus.” He shakes his head in disappoint again and pours Coke into his semi-expenisve whiskey and groans. 

“Oh god. Guys and their shitting on things girls like.” You sip your drink as he rolls his eyes. 

“I’d shit on anyone who did that.” Joel grumbles at you but is pulling you into the living room. He sits right beside you on the couch and hands you your laptop. “Let’s see these scary stories you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He sighs and puts his feet up on the couch. He says it like you ran in here trying to show him this blog. So excited about it. You smirk and open the laptop. 

As the screen resumes the last internet browser page you were on… you snap the computer shut and do absolutely nothing else. Nothing. You freeze but you know what he saw. You were looking right at it… with him. So. You both know what you saw. He’s silent. It’s just very quiet minus the TV in the background. Finally, after so long of no talking and not even looking at him or moving, even… the man speaks. 

“What…what was that?” He asks very curiously. You’d be curious too, if you were him. You are dead on this couch. The first person to ever die of real embarrassment, honestly. You forgot what you did before you cried yourself to sleep in bed last night. What you used this computer for… You’re going to pass away right now. This is…not happening. No. Can’t be. 

There is no way that the last browser you had open on your computer was a fucking porn website. And… porn is so normal, Joel probably would have laughed about it with you but what you had in the search bar… and what you had pulled up on the screen wasn’t alarming or even unnatural. No, not at all. So natural. Two natural bodies. A man and a woman… 

The man… might look like Joel… a little bit. And the girl… might look like you… a little bit. The search bar definitely didn’t have the words ‘hot gray fifties man younger girl’ in there. No. It fucking can’t. You are trembling. He’s not going to see the search bar. No. Only you know what you typed in last night but the resemblance between those two actors and yourself and Joel are… uncanny. Honestly. You were… so excited when you found it– kind of nervous because for two seconds you thought Joel made a porn with you while you were sleeping. The two people were not you guys. Looked a lot like you guys though. Just enough differences and also too many fucking similarities for it to not do what you wanted it to do. So, that’s even more annoying. It didn’t even work. You were too upset about being not ghosted. So. You’re dumb and embarrassed. 

“Hey, what was that?” Joel asks after what feels like an hour of you just looking at your closed laptop. 

“N–”

“Don’t say nothin’.” Joel barely lets you even start. So. He knows. 

“What did it look like?” You ask, snapping your head to him now. He has the smallest smile on his face, leaned in trying to see the screen you snapped shut. You wonder right now if Cody would buy you a new laptop if you smashed this one. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll buy himself $125,000 scotch though. So. Cool. You swallow hard.

“Uh… it kinda looked like me?” Joel flicks his eyes between your closed computer and your almost tearful eyes. You’re not crying. Just haven’t blinked in eight minutes. 

“That’s crazy you think that.” Is all you can come up with because you’re stunned that this is happening to you right now. Joel shakes his head in bewilderment. 

“I know what I saw.” He points to the computer. “Open it.” 

“No.” 

It’s a standoff… a staring contest… a who can hold their breath the longest competition. You lose and blink first and when you do— Joel takes the computer from you, so quickly. You didn’t think that’s what he was going to do. You freeze and Joel freezes too, his hands are about to open it. 

“Do y’wanna show me yer’self or… do I need t’look?” Joel is smirking over at you. It might be less worse if the computer is in his lap and not right in front of you. You can at least not look then, feeling less shame for a moment until he shames you himself. 

“Do it.” You whisper, shielding your eyes from the monstrosity that is about to unfold. Nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing. You know this. It’s just going to fucking make him way to happy. Way too happy. Like when you told him your sex toys didn’t do what he did to you. UGH. 

“Y’sure?” Joel raises one brow at you. 

“I’ll… never open that computer myself.” You speak with no emotion because he’s already doing it. It takes three seconds for the screen to come to life. 

There it is. Joel’s fucking body double… railing some fucking twenty five year old. Hard. You turn away. You can’t look and see what he thinks of this. It’s too much. You hear the computer keys click and then the video starts to fucking play. Loudly. It’s…porn sounds. Moaning and skin slapping together. This guy is talking dirty. The girl is calling him daddy… You feel like you could throw up. 

“Damn.” Joel whistles after. “I don’t really watch porn but…this is good.” He speaks to the computer, apparently, because you’re facing the complete opposite direction now. You’re thinking about putting your hands over your ears, but Joel wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your back into his chest a little. “Watch it with me.” He whisper.

“I’m too embarrassed to be turned on.” You groan and close your eyes. 

“So… we’re not gon’ do nothin’ today. I have self-control. I can teach y’some if y’need me to.” Joel isn’t teasing when he says this. He’s so serious. It for some reasons calms your nerves and also offends you a little bit. 

“I have self control.” You roll your eyes but lean into him and put your head on his shoulder and reluctantly watch the screen of your laptop with him. 

“Ok.” Joel snorts at you but holds you against him when you try and move away. “Tell me what you like ‘bout the way he fucks her.” Joel whispers into your ear quietly. You snap your head up to him with wide, questioning eyes. “I know why y’picked it… wanna know why y’kept watchin’...” Joel whispers again and his breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. You swallow hard again and watch the screen. 

Joel’s twin has your look-a-like on her knees with her chest pressed into the mattress. Her back is arched so dramatically that it looks like it might hurt, regardless, the guy in the video is…hammering into her and she is begging him to make her come and he keeps telling her no. He’s spanking her with some fucking sex thing. You dunno. It honestly looks like something that would come on the handle of a child’s bike. Buncha lil tassles! But!!! This one is leather and all black and he is… spanking her. 

“I like all of it.” You shrug your shoulders not wanting to say thing specific because you don’t wanna sound silly or inexperienced. Your answer isn’t enough for him. 

“You like how she’s layin’ on the bed?” He asks, holding his hand up to her like you cannot see. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod and shrug your shoulder closest to him. He respires through his nose quickly and then points to how he’s holding on to her hips and slamming into her from behind. 

“Do you like that?” He sounds so curious to know if you really did like it, and almost like he knows you didn’t. But you did. 

“Yeah. He’s really givin’ it to her.” You whisper this now, because saying it in a regular volume feels dirty. When Joel speaks, he also whispers. 

“Do you like how he’s tellin’ her not t’ come?” Joel isn’t looking at the computer anymore, he’s looking right at you and you’re trying not to look at him. You shrug your shoulders and say nothing because that sounds horrible. Being denied a come??? No thanks. You’re good with coming freely whenever you want. “Why dontchya know, lil girl, tell me?” He coos to you softly and sweetly. 

“I dunno. Do you like being told not to come?” You do look up at him now and he’s already nodding.”

“Yeah.” Joel smirks a little. “Not always n’ not forever… but yeah.” He speaks in his normal tone again and looks back at the screen. He points with his finger to what the porn star has in his hand. “Do you like that ?” Joel looks back at you now. Emotionless. He doesn’t want you to know if he likes it or not. What a fucking ass. 

“I dunno. I’ve never… been spanked befo—” You’re casually explaining your inexperience to him when he cuts you off. 

“No one’s ever spanked you? Not even foolin’ around or nothin’?” Joel sounds shocked. You shake your head. 

“No, I just… I dunno.” You avoid his eyes. 

“S’wrong?” He closes the laptop and suddenly this has turned into a serious conversation. 

“Nothin’.” You’re just being shy. This is weird. You hate that he’s probably slept with thousands of women and you… are you. So. You’re feeling intimidated. 

“Tell me.” Joel pushes but not angrily or aggressively. He’s trying to figure you out. 

“I don’t even know what’s wrong! I’m just embarrassed.” You sink into his couch and rest your head back on his shoulder. 

“Of what!?” Joel points to the computer “That? Don’t be. That’s fuckin’ normal. Hot. Guy kinda looked like me, huh?” He says this like it’s supposed to comfort you. “You watch that last night? Missin’ me?” Joel whispers now and still speaks too comfortingly…almost condescendingly, but not quite there. It’s making your lower stomach flutter though. You nod silently. “Awhh ain’t the lil girl real sweet, you come?” He is grinning but whispering and still talking so nice.

“No.” You whisper. 

“S’how you wanna get fucked? Or y’watchin’ it ‘cause I told ya I liked it like that?” He asks softly, turning to speak against your forehead. 

“Lil of both.” You mewl quietly. Joel lets his head fall back against the couch and he sighs softly. “What’s wrong?” You pull your head off his shoulder and look at him. 

“Not one single fuckin’ thing.” Joel chirps happily and pulls you into him tighter. “Go n’ read yer’ scary st— or finish yer’ lil video if ya want.” Joel lifts his head and is grinning at you playfully. “Dirty Bird.” He pinches your side, puts your laptop on the couch beside him and stands up. 

“Where ya going?” You watch as he walks towards the kitchen. He holds up his empty beer bottle and then disappears. 

Holy fucking shit. You open your laptop and close out of that shit so quickly and open your blog. Oh god. That wasn’t too bad though. Pretty good actually. Kinda hot. You wonder if that’s a normal thing to do. Watch porn with the guy you wanna fuck. You don’t really want him looking at another naked woman… so… you dunno. Might not do it again.

Joel comes back with a joint behind his ear. He’s so fucking hot. Fuck. His jeans and his t-shirt. Shit. He said nothing’s happening tonight… why? You don’t ask. No. Enjoy this. Live in the moment. He sits down practically on top of you and looks at your laptop to see what you’re doing. 

“Okay… these are the spooky stories..” He nods his head and reads a couple words and then pulls his head back and looks at you. “That’s– uh.. That’s not spooky, babe. That’s a graphic description of someone bein’ murdered… it looks like.” Joel checks the screen again and then looks back at you. “Yeah.”

“It’s a true crime thing.” You explain. “It tells you al the horrible details of crimes that they normally leave out of the podcasts…” You nod sadly.  “I like reading though…so it’s not too bad.” You shrug. Joel is blinking at you. 

“Y’wanna know all this shit? It doesn’t make y’sad?” He is confused.

“I mean… sometimes ‘cause, yeah it is sad. It happened though– I dunno if that’s disrespectful but the lady who does this blog is always real nice. There are certain cases she won’t talk about ‘cause the families had said they don’t like when people do stuff like that.” You explain but Joel isn’t swayed. 

“Yeah… that’s kinda weird t’exploit someone’s murder.” Joel shrugs his shoulder. 

“She doesn’t make money. Those weird podcasters do. Not her though– at least I don’t thin. She’s never gotten a red cent from me. Never asks.” You shrug. 

“Eh, I don’t give a shit enough to argue with you ‘bout it.” He shrugs, kisses your cheek and watches the TV. You have to sit with that statement for about three minutes before you decide you also do not give a shit enough to care and don’t fight with him. 

Football is… fun? You dunno. Not a real fan. Some of the guys on his TV though are CUTE! What!? Jeeeesus and they’re just running around hitting each other? 

“Why don’t they do that all the time?” You ask, holding your hand to the TV. He doesn’t look away from the screen when he answers you. 

“Do what?” He is interested in the game. His team must be doing good or something. 

“Uhh– the sounds— the player sounds.” You nod and look over at him, ripping your eyes away from those men on the screen. 

“What’re y’talkin’ ‘bout? He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Okay, so they’re always talking. Blah blah blah– like we aren’t watching the fuckin’ game they’re talking about!? Stupid. Tony Romo’s voice is fucking annoying. I’d rather hear the players!!” You exclaim. 

“The players aren’t sayin’ nothing. They’re just gruntin’ n’ talkin’ shi-”Joel stops and looks over at your innocent face. 

“It’s better!! Better than Tony fucking Romo. Jesus.” You roll your eyes and go back to your blog. 

What a great time for Matt or as you put him in your phone as ‘matt cat cute tattoos’ decided to go ahead and text you. The message– as well as his name– pop up in the corner of your computer and you get a notification ding, a loud one. 

Looked cute yesterday. Wyd today?

As soon as you get it, Joel’s entire body stiffens besides you but he says nothing, doesn’t move. Nothing. You don’t know what to do. Bringing this computer into Joel’s home has been nothing but bad— just bad. It was bad at first..then kinda good again…now so bad. So, so bad again. Shit. Joel still doesn’t speak and you don’t know what to say so you just exit out of it– and then sit there. 

You watch the TV and the clock on the screen was at fifteen minutes when you looked and it stops so many times. So many times that clock stops and starts and they add time to it again once. It’s not until there are only two minutes left in the quarter that Joel speaks. 

“So… who is Matt?” He asks so casually. 

“Just a guy from the cat shelter.” You explain innocently. 

“Oh, gotchya.” He nods his yeah slowly, you can see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “He that cute?” 

“Oh god.” you put your head in your hands. “I gave him my number yesterday after you dropped me off because I didn’t know if you like– really wanted anything to do with me.. Like actually? Ya know.” You don’t look at Joel because you are too scared.  “Kinda the same reason you liked Ava’s picture before we hung out that night.” 

“Yeah…I see what yer’ sayin’...” Joel sighs but he sounds like he has more to say. He does. “We had hung out though…” Joel is not looking at you either. You both are just speaking facing the TV on the wall in front of you. 

“I know…” You’re shaking and you wonder if he can feel your trembling body literally touching his. 

“Did you go see him last night?” Joel asks emotionless and now you turn to look at him because no you didn’t. Didn’t even think to text him because you had already forgotten about Matt. If you had even fucking remembered in your sadness… you might have gone to see him. 

“No. I didn’t.” You say so confidently and now he looks at you. “I swear I didn’t.” Your eyes scan all across his face and he stays emotionless, doesn’t smile…nothing. 

“Why?” He is still so calm. 

“What do you mean?” You’re stunned to say the least. What the fuck? Did he want you to? Is this a trick? You’re so confused and wanna know what the fuck is going on. 

“Why didn’t you go see him? I blew you off last night n’ you still didn’t go see him?” Joel asks, now a little curious.

“Blew me off?” You wrinkle your brow at him and he panics for half a second in his eyes and then goes back to being calm. 

“Didn’t call or text you.” He defines being blown off to you like you don’t know what the fuck it meant. 

“No. I know that… but I don’t think that’s what you meant to say. What happened last night?” You turn it around on him and wait for his response. 

“Tell me why you didn’t go see that guy and I will.” He pulls away from you a little and you do it too at the same time and read his face. You dunno. It’s just handsome Fucker. 

“No. Did you really forget your keys and phone in your brothers truck last night?” You ask quietly and Joel groans.  

Doesn’t matter. You’re off the couch and running up the stairs to get your stuff. He lied to you. Lied right to your fucking face and then continued to fucking lie. Are you kidding!? He’s chasing you, faster and with more desperation this time. You’re flying up the stairs and into his room. You cannot slam the door in his face because its his house and his bedroom so you run in and grab your stuff off the bed but he’s in the doorway when you turn around. Panting. 

“Move.” You snap at him but he shakes his head. “Then I think I’m officially being kidnapped or being held hostage and I will fight you off. I will fight you so hard.” You point at him but you will not fight him. He could kidnap you and you’d be fine with it. Unless he was with Ava. Then you’ll just kill him. Skip the fighting part. 

“No.” Joel shakes his head again. “Not fuckin’ kidnappin’ you. Grow up.” he snaps at you and is still panting. You roll your eyes. 

“Old!” You snap back at him. “Fuckin’--- just old! Fuck!” You are so pissed and do not know what you’re saying. 

“Stop it.” Joel waves his hand at you and pinches his brows together. 

“No. Tell me what happened.” You bobble your head from side to side and cross your arms over your chest with your bags still in your hand. You purse your lips together tightly. 

“Got more drunk at the bar with Tommy than I usually do, n’ he dropped me off. I just fell asleep ‘fore I could call you. Got in bed and had the phone right there in my hand…just passed out.” He sounds ashamed of himself. 

"That's same shit excuses the thirty year old's I stopped talking to would use. Awesome.” You roll your eyes and think about what Patti said. You’re not asking him shit and don’t care anymore. 

“We had just’ finished a big job the day before– bunch’a guys from work were there.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Why not just tell me that?” You press your lips together again. 

“‘Cause of what you just said. I don’t want you thinkin’ that’s the kinda guy I am.” Joel sighs. "We were just celebratin'. Made good money on that job. Drank more than normal."

“Well… now I think you’re a liar. So, that sucks. You could have just said that to me last night when we were texting. Could have just sent me 'At Bar'... I would have figured it out." You sigh loudly and work up the courage to try and leave even though you don't really wanna. You're gonna though. You’re leaving. Lyin’ aint your flavor baby! You don’t play that shit. No. You can deal with emotionally unavailable. You can deal with distant– love that apparently… but you won’t be lied to. 

“I’m not a liar– look.” Joel pulls his phone out and shows you the screen after he pulls up some bullshit. It’s a picture of him and his brother at the bar. Cool. Who cares. 

“Okay, I dunno that you came right here after. You were so quick to lie to me.. Which is what I have the real problem with– not you getting drunk. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not dumb and naive.” You go to push past him through the door but he doesn’t budge. 

“C’moon.” He sounds sad but you don’t care. 

“No. You’re willing to fuckin’ lie to cover that shit up…something soooo stupid and meaningless.  Something I would have been mad about? Yeah I would have. But would have gotten over--- in a couple days! ‘Cause ya were honest with me. Not lying to get me to your house. Ugh. Fuckin’ gross.” You scoff. 

“You wanna go home?” Joel asks now in a very firm tone. You don’t. You were having so much fun before stupid Matt. Having fun pretending to watch football and snuggle with him!!

“Not really!! I was having fun!!” You exclaim in frustration.

“So stay!” Joel exclaims in matched frustration. “I just didn’t want you fuckin’ bitchin’ at me ‘bout my drinkin’ with my brother! Sorry!” He is still frustrated. 

“Um. No. That sounds stupid.” You roll your eyes at him. "Lie to me to keep me from being upset with you about something?"

“You really think Imma liar?” Joel sounds so hurt now and you see in his eyes that he actually is a little hurt by this. 

“Welp, seeing as you lied. Kinda.” You huff angrily. Joel rolls his eyes. That’s the straw on the camel's back right there. “Fuck you. How are you going to be annoyed? I told you the truth!” You snap at him. 

“Fuck you, too!” Joel snaps back for… no reason. Just said it to say it. It’s kind of cute but also incredibly annoying. “How do I know yer’ not lyin’ ‘bout going to see that guy. You lied to me about being a virgin that first night... told me ya weren't... why?” Joel flicks his eyebrows up to you. 

“BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED!!?? DIDN'T THINK YOU'D WANNA SEE ME AGAIN IF I TOLD YOU!!??” You shout. Joel's shouting is much different from yours. Very loud. Much louder and deeper and bellowing. 

“SO WAS I!! SAME REASON!!” Joel shakes clenches his jaw tight. "I’m fuckin’ ashamed I got that drunk." Joel exclaims at you in frustration-- much softer now though. but then he just groans before he speaks again. "Fuuuuck. I hate this shit. Stupid shit.” Joel throws his hands up in the air and huffs. “I’m goin’ to watch football.” And then he marches his stupid ass right downstairs. You flick him off for two full minutes now that he is out of sight. He is kinda right. Sonofabitch. You hate when men are right. Hate it. You don’t even wanna go back downstairs. But you do. Joel is sitting where he had been before and doesn’t look at you when you come down– with no bags. You feel so uncomfortable. 

“Do you want me to stay?” You grumble. Joel snorts. 

“Do you want to?” He scoffs at you softly still looking at the TV.

“If you’re going to talk to me like that, no.” You roll your eyes. Joel flicks his head to you now, with soft eyes and small smirk... and pats his lap. “What?” You're confused. 

“C’moon.” Joel nods you over to him.

“You want me to come…sit on your lap?” You raise one eyebrow at him suspiciously. He silently nods. Then he beckons you again with another patting of his muscular thigh with his fucking big, strong, stupid hands. You say nothing and don’t even look at him as you shuffle to him. He holds your waist and sits you down on to him. The back of your thighs is right on top of his and you’re more on the couch than in his lap. He looks down at you and smirks. 

“I won’t lie t’ya anymore. I’m real sorry. Didn’t wanna look like n’ ass. N’ I did anyway.” He runs strong hand across your legs softly and scans your face. “N’ I believe y’didn’t go see that Matt fucker.” He grumbles his name and makes you chuckle. “Why’d ya think I wouldn’t want nothin’ t’do withya?” He’s somehow leaned in and now only inches from your face. How did this happen?

“I dunno– you’re kind of established n’ I’m not.” You whisper softly. “N’ I thought maybe all you wanted was... the only thing I got to offer.” You chuckle but there are other emotions brewing inside you. Shit. You’re not gonna cry. No. You will not. 

“Stupid.” Joel leans in and kisses you softly, his tongue flicks across your bottom lip but doesn’t enter your mouth or do anything else. You whine softly when he pulls away. “Football.” He nods his head to the TV. 

Fuck. He does have self control.

Joel leads you upstairs for bed later after locking all the doors and windows, checking the thermostat and making sure all the blinds were shut. You cant help but wonder if he does it ever night as a cute lil routine and now you are in love with him. No you’re not. Stop doing that. No. He’s a man and just regular. You keep telling yourself that as he walks you into his bedroom and pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it in the hamper. 

“You got pjs or do you need something?” he asks, knowing you have a bag of clothes… he carried it in. 

“I have —” You’re trying so hard not to smile at him for no reason as he grabs a t-shirt from his dresser and tosses it on to the bed near where you’re standing. 

“You could use that if you wanted.” He’s being so serious. If he’s being cute and flirting he isn’t showing it as he works on his belt. Your body jolts into gear when you become fully aware that you’re just standing there staring at him. You pull your own shirt off and unclasp your bra around the back and let it slide down your shoulders and arms. You half expect Joel to be staring at you stupidly like an idiot, but he just walks behind you, brings his rough, strong calloused hand to your waist, squeezes softly and walks into the bathroom. 

You throw on his t-shirt and pull your shorts off and walk into the bathroom with your toothbrush feeling…so silly for some reason. You shouldn’t!! He wants you here. Gave you the stupid shirt without you asking. He knew you wanted it. Or he wanted you to have it… which was even cuter and made you even more nervous and feel even sillier. 

Joel hands you toothpaste as you stand in front of the vanity mirror. It’s a good mirror. You’re thinking about how good it would be to sit on the sink and pick at your face in this fucking thing while you brush your teeth. You might if you ever get an opportunity. You brush real good and follow Joel back into the bedroom, he waits for you at the door of the bathroom and extends his hand to you. To walk to his bed. Six feet away. You do not give one single fucking shit. He could hold your hand into the zombie apocalypse if he wanted. You’d let him lead you right into that shit. Fuck.

He pulls the sheets back for you and walks around the bed as you crawl in. 

“Hey.” He growls once he’s in bed. You’re so far away from him. There could be three more people in here. 

“Hi.” You have to speak with your real talking voice to make him hear you. 

“You could come closer.” He chuckles softly. 

“Why is it so big!?” You smirk at him as you have to take several hands and knees over to him. 

“I’m a big guy.” Joel shrugs. 

“Not this big!” You snuggle right up into him and now there is… still an entire queen sized bed left over where you had just crawled from. You giggle excitedly and wiggle around beside him. He is warm and perfect and smells like Joel and this is exciting. You're so happy to be here.

“What’re you wormin’ around fer?” Joel looks down at you, smirking. 

“I dunno. Just happy to be here, I think. Got the sillies or something.” You giggle up to him. “Do you not get in bed and get all excited to be in bed n’ snuggly next to someone??” You look up and him and suddenly feel kinda dumb but he doesn’t let you for long as he wriggles down beside you and wraps you up in his arms. 

“ Shiiit… no. I’m a grown man.” He sounds offended that you’d ask him that. “But you can squirm n’ worm all around next to me whenever ya’ want..” Joel chuckles and kisses the top of your head. 

“I got a cat yesterday. S’why I was at the cat shelter.” You whisper up to him. “Her name is Agatha Christie.” You add quickly after a second of silence. Joel tries and fails to stifle his laughter. 

“What!? Did you pick that name out? Poor cat.” He’s still laughing and jostling your whole body around as he laughs heartily. “Why’d ya get a cat?” 

“I’ve wanted one for a while.” You snap at him. “And her name is good!! I like spooky stuff… Agatha Christie wrote creepy detective books!! Death on the Nile!! So good!” You’re semi offended. Joel rubs his hand all along your back and shoulders. You're running your hand all across his soft n' smooth stomach except for a lil trail of hair that leads down into his boxers. He's so soft n' pudgy but firm and tight at the same time. You wanna run your tongue all along him. Shit. Talking about cats. Fuck. Okay.

“Issa good name fer’ you. Yeah, yer’ right.” Joel is still chuckling. 

“I didn’t even name her that!” You poke him in the sides and he grabs your wrist gently. 

“I’ll spank you into next week. Don’t.” He growls it. 

“Next week? For a poke? Seems excessive…” You roll your eyes at him but, you want him to. Want to poke his soft and pudgy and perfect tummy. It's calling for you.

“Don’t…” Joel is warning you. 

“Are you super ticklish?” You’re not going to tickle him…because you don’t like being tickled. Hate it even though it...tickles and makes you laugh.

“Just don’t.” He sighs loudly and lets your wrist go. It was never tight to begin with. You just like him holding onto you.

“Fine.” You feign annoyance as you kiss his shoulder softly. He sighs softer now and rubs your back gently again. 

“Roll over.” Joel whispers quietly. You do exactly as he says and might never question him ever again. He molds himself into your back and ass and his legs are pressed into yours. He is engulfing you. His mouth is right beside your ear now. “Glad you stayed.” He murmurs softly. 

“Me too.” You breathe out softly. 

“I’m gon’ tease both of us a lil now, don’t get too worked up, ‘kay Cricket?” He snickers so softly in your ear as he pushes his groin into your ass softly. “Love teasin’...” He keeps speaking as he grinds against you. “Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” His voice is so soft and if his cock wasn’t getting hard against you, you’d fall asleep he’s so calm and soothing. 

“Yeah…” You sigh because it’s all you can do. His hand is moving all across your stomach and down between your legs for… milliseconds. It makes you groan and him chuckle each time. His strong fingers pinch and tug at your nipples softer than the first time he touched them. 

“You like this? Want me t’stop?” He kisses behind you ear gently and then breathes out against you as he works his cock into the V between your closed legs and pussy. “Shit.” Joel chokes it back and pushes into you harder. You can feel his searing hot length against the skin of your inner thighs and through the fabric of your panties. “I gotta stop.” He chuckles but does not. 

“Keep going.” You whisper to him and pause for a moment. “Please?” You really want him to keep going…you’re not really sure why. It doesn’t feel like much of anything to you other than something hot and hard between your legs. “Don’t stop… Mr. Miller.” You bite your bottom lip and cringe and how awkward you are and then Joel reacts to this.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He spits the words out and pulls you back against him even tighter, his forearm between your breasts and now his hand is around your neck softly, he’s breathing into your ear. “What did you say?” He whispers but there is force behind this whisper. 

“Please don’t stop, Mr. Miller.” You whimper softly as his hand tightens around your throat. “I’m sorry?" You’re kinda scared because this giant man has his hand around your throat… but is still doing whatever it is he’s doing between your legs. Fucking your thighs? Dunno. He’s still doing that but faster now. And choking you moderately. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, lil girl.” His voice is so deep, fuck. Okay. Is he mad? 

“Do you really like that?” You ask nervously but his body is already telling you that he does… his voice is saying.. Maybe? His hand leaves your throat and his body stops moving against yours. 

“What’d I do?” he holds his hands up and freezes. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s panting, sweating a little, but looking at you fearfully. “M’sorry fer’ whatever it was…” 

“What? You didn’t do anything..” You blink at him. He blinks back at you. 

“Huh? Then what’re you talkin’ ‘bout ‘cause I love all that.” Joel sighs softly and relaxes. 

“Me calling you Mr. Miller?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Joel snorts and lays back in bed. 

“Uh…yeah. I fuckin’ do.” Joel shakes his head. “S’fuckin’... I dunno. I dunno why I like it. Yer’ the first woman t’ever call me that in bed...damn... I liked it though fer' some reason.” Joel sighs loudly. “Sorry. I ain’t mean fer’ it t’go that far. I snuck right outta my boxers.” He rubs the sweat off his forehead and looks over at you. “Y’like all that?” 

“You weren’t mad at me?” You’re still blinking a little. Joel looks like he’s replaying the last four minutes in his head to think if you did something to make him mad.

“No.” He says after a moment and then looks over at you. “What’d I do t’make y’think that?” 

“Uh… choked me? Sounded real mad?” You gawk at him. 

“Didn’t like bein’ choked?” 

“Well now that I know you’re not mad at me… I think I did? I dunno. Let’s do it again.” You suggest eagerly but he just laughs. 

“Nah, ‘cause then it wouldn’t be teasin’.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. 

“That is terrible.” You groan. “Don’t like teasing.” You whine and then face the other way again, annoyed. 

“Lose yer’ attitude, lil Bird.” Joel spanks your ass softly over the blankets. “T’cute to be all ‘tudinal.” 

“I thought you liked a bratty lil girl.” You mock him gently and smirk, getting comfortable in the bed next to him.

He chuckles beside you and rubs the fat of your ass over the blankets now. “Yeah… I do.” Joel sighs loudly and rolls back over to be behind you again. “Goin’ t’sleep now, really.” Joel kisses behind your ear and the the back of your shoulder and the top of your head. His arm drapes over your side and then it’s quiet. 

You’re too excited to sleep!? What!? Why did you not feel this way the last two times? You slept fine. Mr. Miller!! This sonofabitch gets you all horny for thigh fucking and then is sleeping behind you first? Unfair. Not cool. Okay….without that real loud fan from your place…his snoring is kinda loud. Real loud. Right in your ear loud. Is he being so fucking for real right now? This has to be a joke. 

No. 

He is so fucking for real. And the man…sleeps like he might be dead. If it wasn’t for the snoring…you’d think he was how he reacted to literally nothing you did. He had to be faking and pretending. You eventually weasel your way back across this football field sized bed and…the snoring isn’t too bad over here. Still kinda loud. You’ll be fine. You’ve slept through worse. Fighting parents (screaming dad) all night sometimes. This is nothin’. 

It was not nothing.

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414 (i'll add or take you off, just let me know!)

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i have another 9+ hour drive ahead of me tomorrow you know what that means. another deep dive into the spotify solavellan playlists to forage for fruits...........

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[medilies]

Do you ever watch s3 and s4 and realise you're not enjoying it that much

[vaggieslefteye]

There are leaks of Season 2 - I will not talk about or engage with any of it on this blog. If you have the hazbin tags blocked, rest assured, I'm not going to be one of those people that posts about it. If/when I talk about season 2, it will ONLY be through what the official sources give out, WHEN they are intended to be announced, and nothing more.

That being said, I'm closing asks/all forms of requests for the time being, just to be on the safe side. I will probably keep posting stuff, but I'm turning off my notifs for this blog in general for a while.

[unriding]

Me sneaking into your asks with this drabble:

Disclaimer: I have yet to get a good grasp of Moze's character so this might be a bit OOC and on your side as well (sorry). I did my best. Also, this was inspired by the post you made abt telling Moze your tasks for the day | 600+ words (not proofread)

.

.

.

In Moze's eyes, you reminded him of a dog catching a case of the zoomies.

You were quite literally everywhere. He'd find you talking to someone one moment before you're rushing off to do something else entirely the next. It seemed like you had quite a lot on your plate as of recently. Tasks, things you wanted to do, and so much more spinning around that mind of yours. You've told him a bit of your plans so he has a general idea. But seeing you juggling all of those tasks at once makes both admiration and concern bloom in his chest.

One time, Moze found you carrying a box filled with items. It would've been amusing to him how comical it was that the items piled so high— he could barely see you behind it. However, he did worry right after given how you almost tripped over something. He managed to catch you and the items before both came crashing all over the floor.

He insisted on helping you carry the items to wherever its destination was. It took a bit of pursuasion on his side. Convincing you that it truly wasn't a bother to him at all, and that he'd be very much glad to be of assistance to you.

"I need to get these delivered first. Then go stop by the shop to buy some things. After that…" You go on to ramble about the things you had to do to help get a better vision on what else you had to do. "Oh, no… I messed up." The smile on your face dropping at the thought that had slipped your mind until that moment. "I forgot to invite Jiaoqiu to dinner with the others—"

"It's tomorrow evening, right? He knows. I mentioned it last time when I spoke to him." Moze says with a calm tone.

You blink at him, slightly caught off-guard by the man beside you. Though it's immediately replaced with relief and gratitude. The smile on your face already back, lighting up your features once more. Infectious as always, it makes the corners of his lips tug upwards as well. A small part of him feels quite proud to have been able to help you ease your worries even by a bit.

And this is when you start noticing it.

Did you mention that you're running out of a certain skincare product, but you can't find the time to stop by the store to buy it? Moze conveniently has to stop by near the store and buys it for you. Did you also mention that you wanted to do a certain task but keep forgetting about it? He gently reminds you about it via message or verbal if he's nearby. Did you also happen to mention that you've been meaning to try out a certain desert from a cafe, but the schedule simply doesn't seem to allow you? No fear, he passes by the store to buy you the treat.

Moze doesn't see you as someone incapable of handling things by yourself. To him, he simply sees it as a way to show his care. If making a quick stop somewhere, sending you a small reminder of something you had to do that day, or even helping you out with the tasks you need to accomplish, makes you smile? Gives you a chance to take a break? Let you worry less about the things you need to do? It's worth it in his eyes.

He does his best to avoid making you feel like you're bothering or troubling him (you really aren't). Most of the time, he does them discrcetly and casually. Partially, since he's also scared that you'll think he's weird or a creep for acting like that.

Please don't think of him badly.

Moze truly means well.

[crabussy]

I want to take a bite out of someone's arm but I'm too shy

[milfbrainrot]

i feel like i type so much more than is reasonable when i do talk to people but i also don't get to socialize a ton so i just have soooo many words in me and if i'm like, tired or short on time, it is so much harder to restrain to the already-pushing-it point i can sometimes manage ;-;