#“okay yeah good start. what next.” and then he just throws the entire ~cool~ idea away and puts together the mushiest shit ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jrob64 · 9 months ago

Text

Pet for Rent , Chapter 3/4 (The Adoption) A CS Modern AU Story

Ready for Chapter 3? Here we go!

Thanks to all of you who are reading and liking this story that was purely written because it was therapeutic for me. It was a year ago today that my Zeke was diagnosed with cancer. This is also written for all of you who have sent a beloved pet over the rainbow bridge yourself. I hope you find it an uplifting story, even though it was born from a broken heart.

Chapters on Tumblr - Ch 1 (The Meet Cute) Ch 2 (The Idea)

Chapter summary: Emma and Killian go out on a date, and Winston has his 'gotcha' day.

Rating: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

Words: 7108

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

Story begins under the cut

“Wake up, kid,” Emma said the next morning, gently shaking her son.

Henry rolled over and rubbed his eyes, then looked at the Minecraft clock on his nightstand. “You never wake me up this early on Sunday.”

“I know, but we’re going to church today.”

He pushed himself up in bed, yawning widely. “We usually watch it virtually, though. You said you like to do it that way.”

“Yeah well, today I thought we would go to Gentle Shepherd Church. I’ve heard good things about it, including the fact that it has a Sunday School class for you and an adult one for me.””

“I thought only kids had Sunday School classes.”

“Well, Killian said the adult class is more like a Bible Study.”

“So this is the church where Killian goes?”

“Yeah. It is,” Emma said.

“Oh, boy!” Henry exclaimed, throwing the covers off and jumping out of bed. “That’s where Mr. and Mrs. Nolan go, too!”

Emma laughed. “I guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

“Do I have to dress up?”

“Killian said it’s casual. Just wear your khakis and a nice shirt. I’m going to get breakfast started.”

“Can we have pancakes?”

“If you promise not to get syrup on your clothes,” she replied, as she left the room.

As they ate, Henry wondered aloud if anyone from his class at school went to the church they were going to attend.

“It’s very possible, there are only three churches in town.”

“That would be cool! Are we going to sit with Killian?” he asked, before shoving a huge forkful of pancake in his mouth.

“Take smaller bites, Henry. I don’t want to have to give you the Heimlich manuever this morning.” That earned her a mischievous grin around his mouthful of food. “I don’t know who we’ll sit with, honestly. Belle and Liam go to that church, also.”

Henry swallowed. “They do? I haven’t seen Belle for a long time, and I never met Liam.”

“It has been a while. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing her more often.” She took a drink of her coffee, then slowly set the mug back on the table. “Listen Henry, I need to tell you something.”

He swirled his last bite of pancake through the small lake of syrup on his plate, then looked up at her curiously. “What?”

“I, uh, I talked to Killian last night after you went to bed, and um, he asked me to go out with him.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Tuesday evening. I’m going to ask Belle if she can watch you. Is that okay?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, his shoulders rising and falling in a non-chalant shrug. “Where are you going?”

“Out to eat at that nice Italian restaurant down by the harbor.”

“Okay,” he said, then put the remainder of the pancake in his mouth.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

He swallowed before saying, “I like Killian. He’s always really nice to me, and to you, too. Plus he likes soccer and dogs.”

Emma chuckled. “I guess that makes him a good guy, huh?”

Henry nodded, grinning widely. “Yep.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma pulled into the parking lot, marveling at the number of vehicles already parked there. She hadn’t realized so many people attended the church.

When she first came to town, she took Henry to a different church a few blocks away, but they didn’t have a nursery and Henry was too active to sit still through an entire service. By the time it was over, she was worn out from trying to keep him quiet, received several dirty looks from sanctimonious people, and had gotten nothing out of the sermon. After a few weeks, she gave up and started watching live church services that were posted on YouTube instead.

“There’s Killian’s car,” Henry piped up from the back seat, having spotted his black Elantra.

Emma pulled into the open space beside it and cut the engine. Looking in the rearview mirror, she pushed strands of hair behind her ear and checked her lipstick.

“You look good, Mom,” Henry said. “I haven’t seen you wear a dress for a long time.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Thanks, kid. I haven’t had a reason to wear one for a while. I figured I might as well since they’ve just been hanging in my closet.”

They exited the car and approached the building, wondering which door to enter.

“Hi, Henry!” a voice called from behind them.

They turned to see one of Henry’s classmates from school “Hey, Nicholas! I was hoping some of my friends would be here.”

“John, Devin and Mike will be here, too. We’re all in class together, and so are some of the girls.” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“Be nice,” Emma admonished.

They followed Nicholas and his family in through the side door, which led to the Sunday School rooms at the back of the church building. Emma walked with her son back to the class room where Nicholas led them, and met his teacher, Miss Bell.

“The kids all call me Tink,” she told Emma when she introduced herself. “Because of my last name, and the fact that apparently I look like a fairy.”

Emma laughed. “I suppose I can see that,” she said, taking in the petite form of the other woman. After seeing that Heny seemed to be comfortably settling in, she returned to the hallway, searching for the area where the adult class met.

“Emma!”

She turned to see Belle approaching, Liam’s hand clasped in her own as he trailed behind his fiancée. “Hey, you guys. It’s good to see you,” Emma said.

“You, too,” Belle chirped. “After all the times I’ve invited you to join us here at church, what made you decide to come today?”

Liam draped his arm around Belle’s shoulder. “Come now, Sweetheart, do you really need to ask that question? I think she might have gotten an invitation from my little brother.”

“Younger brother, you mean.” Emma turned to see Killian walking up behind her. “Good morning, Belle, Liam. Good morning, Swan. I’m very happy to see you made it. Is Henry already in his classroom?”

“Yeah, I just dropped him off. He’s excited to know several of the other kids.”

“Good! Our class meets in there,” he said, gesturing to a large room to her right.

They walked in to see two dozen people milling around, chatting with one another. Emma instantly spotted Henry’s school teacher, who smiled and waved when she saw her enter the room. Then she saw David walk in with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to his wife.

“Would you like some coffee, Emma?” Killian asked.

“Uh, sure. That would be great. One sugar, please.”

“Have a seat anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him go, then sought out Belle and Liam, who had struck up a conversation with the Nolans. Walking over, she smiled at everyone. “Hello.”

“Good morning!” David’s wife greeted cheerfully. “I’m so happy to see you here, Ms. Swan.”

“I’m happy to be here, but please call me Emma.”

“Of course, and you can call me Mary Margaret, although Mrs. Nolan might be a little less of a mouthful!”

David chuckled, looking at his wife adoringly, before turning his eyes toward Emma. “This is the first time you’ve been to this church, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve gotten into the habit of watching church services on YouTube on Sunday mornings, but with Henry getting older, I wanted to find a church that offered classes for a kid his age. Killian was telling me about the Bible study and the Sunday School program here and I thought we would give it a try.”

“Did I hear my name?” Killian said, coming up beside her. He gave her the coffee and a grin.

“Aye, we were just talking about the world’s biggest pratts,” Liam said.

“Liam!” Belle admonished, elbowing him. “We’re in church!”

“Could everyone please take their seats so we can get started?” a man with curly, red hair announced.

“That’s Archie, the teacher of the class,” Killian told Emma, gesturing to two open seats.

They sat down with Belle on Emma’s right and David on Killian’s left. “He’s the town psychiatrist, isn’t he?” Emma asked quietly.

“Aye. He leads excellent discussions in class and is great at getting everyone involved.”

Forty-five minutes later, Emma completely agreed with Killian’s statement about Archie Hopper. She thoroughly enjoyed the Bible study and was eager to find out if Henry liked his class, too. That question was answered when she stepped out into the hallway and her son came bounding toward her, grinning from ear to ear.

“How was it, kid?” she asked, unnecessarily.

“It was great, Mom! Can we come back next week?”

The church service proved to be inspirational and quite enjoyable, too. They sat in a pew between Killian, and Nicholas’ family. Afterwards, they stayed and chatted with several people Emma recognized from town, all of them making the newcomers feel very welcome.

When the service ended and it was time to leave, Emma and Killian shared a conspiratorial look before she asked Henry, “Hey kid, how would you like to have lunch with Killian?”

“At Granny’s?” he asked.

“No,” Killian chuckled. “Granny closes her diner on Sundays. Didn’t you see her in the choir?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t think about that,” Henry said. “Where will we go, then?”

“Killian invited us to his place to make sub sandwiches. How does that sound?”

Henry turned towards Killian. “Do you have bologna?”

Killian grimaced. “Afraid not. I won’t have that vile stuff in my home. I have ham, turkey, salami and cheese.”

“Ketchup?” Henry asked hopefully.

Trying to control another grimace, Killian said, “Aye, if you insist on it, I do have ketchup.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian lived in a two-story apartment building at the opposite end of town from Emma and Henry’s house. After they made their sandwiches and ate lunch, Killian showed them around. Besides the open kitchen/dining/living room area, it included a decent sized bathroom and two bedrooms, one of which he used as his office for work.

His apartment was on the first floor, and the sliding back doors opened out into a fenced-in common area for the building. The yard wasn’t huge, but it was big enough for a swing set for the children who lived there, as well as an open, grassy space, shaded by a couple of large trees.

As Henry stood looking around the area, Killian moved behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “What do you think, lad? Is the yard big enough for a dog?”

Henry slowly turned his head to look up at him. “Are you getting one?”

Emma moved to stand in front of him. “Killian and I have been talking. I’ve been saying it wouldn’t be fair to adopt Norman because he would have to be cooped up in a crate all day…”

“But I work from home, so I’m here all day…”

“So if we adopted Norman…” She looked up at Killian, encouraging him to continue.

“I could take care of him during the day and he would stay with you in the evenings and overnight.”

Henry’s head was swiveling back and forth as the adults explained their plan, the confused look on his face morphing into one of surprise and cautious happiness. “So…so you’re saying we’re gonna adopt him?”

“If you promise to help take care of him and train him to obey,” Emma said.

“I will! I promise!” he shouted, flinging his arms around her waist. “Thank you, Mom!”

“You’re welcome,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “We wouldn’t be able to do it without Killian, though.”

Immediately he ended their hug and turned to give Killian one. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, lad. I’m looking forward to having Win-, er, Norman as a companion, too.”

“We really ought to decide on one name,” Emma said. “He’s going to be confused if we’re calling him two different things.”

“Well, I suppose the better choice is Norman, since that’s the name the shelter gave him.”

“Do you think Norman is a good name, Mom?” Henry asked.

Emma shrugged her shoulders. “One name is as good as the other, as far as I’m concerned. You and Killian figure it out.”

“Let Henry name him,” Killian said. “I consider the dog to be his.”

“What do you think, kid?”

Henry scrunched up his face in thought. “Remember the book you read to me a long time ago that had a really mean woman in it? Her name was Norman, wasn’t it?”

“Her name was Norma,” Emma chuckled.

“It kinda sounds the same and you had to stop reading that book because she scared me, remember?”

“Are you saying you prefer Winston?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I guess. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me. Like Killian said, it’s up to you.”

“Winston will be so happy we’re adopting him!” Henry declared.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called David the next day to tell him of their plans to adopt the dog. David was very excited and told Killian the paperwork would be ready and he would have Winston fully vetted, licensed, chipped and groomed by the time they picked him up on Saturday.

When Killian called to relay this news to Emma that evening, she said, “I’ll pay the adoption fees, since he’s going to be Henry’s dog.”

“Emma…”

“No, I want to do this. That way, if you do move away, I won’t feel bad about you paying for a dog you don’t get to keep.”

He was quiet for several moments, considering her offer. “Okay, I’ll agree on one condition - that you let me pay for his food, treats and toys for the first month.”

“That will probably add up to more than the adoption fees,” she teased.

“That’s entirely possible,” he agreed, chuckling. “I understand Liam is going to come over with Belle to watch Henry tomorrow evening. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I already talked to Belle about it today. I told her not to do anything that might scar my kid.”

Killian laughed again. “Poor Belle, she’ll have to make sure two kids behave.”

They chatted for another hour, finalizing plans for their date and discussing everything they would need for Winston. When they finally ended the call, Killian sat staring at his phone for several minutes, deep in thought. Emma’s comment about him possibly moving away had him mentally ticking off the pros and cons of such a move.

When he finished, he had far more reasons to stay, and the one at the top of the list was Emma Swan.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Mom! Belle and Liam are here!” Henry yelled.

Emma quickly finished applying her tinted lip glss, then did a final inspection in the full-lenth mirror. She was wearing a 3⁄4 sleeve deep red dress with a modest V neckline, the straight hemline falling just above her knees. Her ensemble was completed with black heels, silver jewelry and a black clutch purse. She’d spent extra time applying smokey eye makeup and curling her hair, which fell loosely down her back.

Satisfied with her reflection, she pulled her black and white houndstooth peacoat out of the closet and left the bedroom. Henry was just getting ready to open the door when she entered the living room.

“I’ll get the door, kid. You know I don’t like you to open it.”

“But I already saw who it is,” he protested.

“Sorry, but that’s the rule,” she reminded him, moving to the door as a knock sounded. She opened it to reveal Belle with Liam standing close behind.

“Oh, Emma, you look lovely!” the other woman exclaimed.

“She’s right,” Liam agreed. “You look far too nice to be going out with my little brother.”

Emma laughed and gestured them inside. “Thank you, but I think he would object to being called your little brother.” She took their coats to hang up, showed them where the emergency numbers were, and gave them instructions for Henry’s bedtime routine.

Just as she finished, there was another knock on the door. Before going to answer it, she gave the engaged couple a nervous smile and ran her hands down the front of her dress.

When she opened the door, all her nerves seemed to fly away, replaced with a sense of happiness at the prospect of going out with the man in front of her. Killian stood there, scratching behind his ear, a habit she found incredibly endearing. He was dressed in dark gray slacks, a white button down shirt and navy blue sports coat. She was pleased to see his eyes widen slightly when he saw her.

“Swan, you look…stunning,” he said.

“Thank you, Killian. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Hi, Killian!” Henry piped up, coming to stand beside his mother.

“Hello, lad. Are you ready for a fun evening with Belle?”

“What about me?” Liam asked, appearing behind Henry. “I’m a fun guy.”

“You make yourself sound like a mushroom, brother,” Killian snickered.

Liam folded his arms over his broad chest. “Are you really sure you want to go out with this idiot, Emma?”

“Yes, she is,” Belle said, “and the two of you are wasting time with your banter. Emma, you and Killian go and have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about Henry. He’s in good hands.”

“I know,” Emma said, bending down to kiss her son’s cheek. “Be good and listen to Belle and Liam, okay?”

“I will. Have fun, Mom.” Wrapping his arms around her, he added, “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid.”

“Goodnight, lad,” Killian said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“‘G’night, Killian. See you Saturday!”

During their exchange, Emma went to get her coat and purse from the kitchen chair where she left them. When she returned, Killian took the coat from her and held it up for her to put on. After saying their final goodbyes, he escorted her down the sidewalk to his car, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Once they were both buckled into the comfortable leather seats, he looked over at her, picked up her hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “You truly do look beautiful this evening, Love.”

“Thank you,” she replied, knowing that her cheeks were beginning to turn the same color as her dress.

Giving her one more smile, he started the car and pulled away from the curb. Emma had wondered if things would be awkward between them during the date, but they carried on their conversation just as easily as they had from the very first day.

Each time she went out with a man, she caught herself constantly checking the time on her phone and wondering how Henry was doing. Tonight however, she was so caught up enjoying the good food, wine, and the handsome man she was with, she completely lost track of time. When she finally checked her phone screen as they pulled up in front of her house, she was shocked to find it was nearly eleven o’clock.

Killian opened her door and offered his hand to help her out of the car. They continued holding hands as they strolled casually up the sidewalk, the early autumn air cool against their cheeks.

When they reached her front door, she turned to him with a demure smile. “I suppose this is where I tell you I had a wonderful time and debate whether or not I should give you a kiss.”

He chuckled lowly. “Aye, I suppose it is. So tell me, Swan, what’s the verdict? Did you have a wonderful time?”

She put her hands on his chest, rubbing them over the lapels of his jacket. “Yes, I did. I don’t date very often, and this is by far the best date I’ve had in a very long time, maybe ever. I find it very easy to talk to you.”

“I feel the same, Emma,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “Now, have you made your decision about…”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish. Pushing up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck as she felt his encircle her waist. She intended the kiss to be brief, but found she quite enjoyed it and didn’t want it to end.

It was interrupted when the light outside her front door suddenly turned on, nearly blinding them despite their eyes being closed.

“What the bloody…” Killian began, just as the door swung open.

“Tsk, tsk, little brother,” Liam said with a maddening smirk on his face. “Kissing on the very first date? Wouldn’t that be considered bad form?”

“Liam, bloody hell!” Killian retorted.

At the same time, Belle’s voice could be heard from the living room. “Liam Albert Jones! That was mean! Just for that, you won’t be getting a kiss from me tonight when you take me home!”

As Liam pleaded his case, Emma giggled into Killian’s chest. “I guess our date is officially over.”

“Next time, could you please ask Belle not to bring my wanker of a brother along to watch Henry?”

“Next time?” Emma questioned. “I don’t remember you asking for a second date.”

Killian reached around her to close the door, then gazed into her eyes. “Will you go out with me again?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes darted back and forth between his, floored at the depth of hope and sincerity she saw there. She opened her mouth to answer him, but instead found herself kissing him again. This time, when they separated, she leaned her forehead against his with a sigh of contentment.

“May I take that as a yes?” he whispered.

“Absolutely,” she breathed. “Thank you for a fun and memorable evening, Killian.”

“It was my pleasure, Emma. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Turning around, she opened the door slightly, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight,” he replied.

She went inside and closed the door, leaning against it with a dreamy smile on her face. She had nearly forgotten she wasn’t alone, and was startled when Belle spoke.

“If that look on your face is anything to go by, I don’t need to ask if you had a good time.”

Emma could feel herself blushing, but gave her friend a smile and said, “I really did. We’re planning to go out again. By the way, Killian requested that if you watch Henry when we do, you forbid Liam to come along with you.”

While Belle laughed, Liam said, “Henry will disagree with that. He had a lot of fun with his Uncle Liam tonight.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “You told him to call you ‘uncle’? Why did you do that?”

“He didn’t, he’s pulling your leg,” Belle explained, glaring at her fiancé. “I’m happy to report that Henry was much better behaved than Liam, who is going to have to earn his way back into my good graces.”

Hiding her giggle behind her hand, Emma listened to the couple playfully bicker, still able to feel Killian’s kiss on her lips and the happiness in her heart.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

On Friday, Emma picked Henry up from his after school sitter Ashley’s house and they went to Killian’s apartment. He insisted on making them homemade pizza before going to the store to buy necessities for Winston.

Henry chattered animatedly throughout supper, the topics ranging from how much he loved the pizza and who he sat with at lunch, to the new book he checked out at the school library. Most of all, he talked about all the things he and Winston would do together and how he would train him.

Emma and Killian shared humorous glances across the table while they listened. Since their date, they had texted each other a few times during the day and carried on lengthy phone conversations every evening after Henry went to sleep.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the pet supply store, Killian turned off the car as Emma looked back at her son. “Now, remember Henry, we have quite a bit of stuff left from Ernie, so we’re not going to buy a lot, okay?”

“Okay, but we can help Killian pick out everything he needs, right?”

Before Emma could answer, Killian said, “Of course, lad.”

“You might regret that,” she murmured, earning her a grin.

As they browsed the aisles, Emma slipped her hand into Killian’s. She felt him give it a squeeze and looked over to see him gazing at her with a warm smile. Then she turned her attention back to her son, who was examining the assortment of collars and leashes.

“What color do you think Winston likes better - red or orange?”

“Dogs are color blind, kid,” Emma informed him, “so I don’t think he will care one way or another.”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry said. “Well, which one do you like, Killian?”

“I recently developed quite a fondness for red,” he answered, giving Emma a wink. She blushed, knowing he was referring to the dress she wore for their date.

“That’s my favorite, too,” Henry declared, selecting a red leash from the rack. Emma and Killian helped him pick out a matching collar that was the right size for the fifty pound dog. They were added to the cart Henry was pushing, then they moved on to the aisle containing the dog beds.

As they looked over the display, Emma took the leash from the cart and studied the tag. “This says it’s good for dogs up to fifty pounds,” she read. “I think we should get the next bigger size, don’t you?”

Henry and Killian both agreed, and Emma left to go replace it. When she returned, she stopped short at the end of the aisle, blinking back sudden tears. Henry was kneeling on the floor in front of the beds, running his hands over them as he carried on a commentary about which one was the softest. Killian crouched beside him, his hand on the boy’s back, his attention completely focused on what Henry was saying.

For eight years, Emma denied herself a relationship with a man because she hadn’t met one that she thought would be a good match, not only for her, but more importantly for her son. Either they got skittish when they found out she had a son, or they tried too hard, overcompensating for their lack of experience with kids.

Then, thanks to a simple mistake on her part, she met a man who was fitting into their life so naturally, it was almost too good to be true. Her heart as a mother swelled witnessing how well Killian and Henry got along and what a truly wonderful role model Killian was for her son. At the same time, her heart as a woman fluttered at the possibility of finding someone who could be a perfect match for her.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, she walked down the aisle to join the two most important people in her life.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Saturday morning, Henry knelt on the sofa, his arms crossed on the back of it as he watched intently out the window for Killian’s car. Emma shook her head at her son’s impatience, but in all honesty, she was just as excited for the man to arrive.

Once they finished shopping the previous evening, Killian invited them in to watch a movie. The three of them browsed through the options on Killian’s streaming platforms, ultimately allowing Henry to choose The Super Mario Bros. Movie.

Killian made a huge batch of popcorn and the three of them settled on the couch to watch. Henry sat in the middle, holding the bowl with his eyes glued to the screen. Emma and Killian found themselves enjoying the movie too, even though they originally didn’t think it would hold any interest for them.

By the time the final credits rolled, the boy’s head was lolling against Killian’s arm. When Emma tried to get her son to wake up so they could go home, Killian took pity on the sleepy child and easily lifted him into his arms to carry him to Emma’s car. Before getting in the car herself, she and Killian shared a short, sweet kiss and she promised to call after Henry was in bed.

After arriving home and getting her son settled, Emma talked to Killian until she was starting to fall asleep and he teased her about finding him boring. The entire evening caused her emerging feelings for him to deepen even more.

Now, she was standing behind her son, watching for the familiar black car to turn the corner.

“Do you think he forgot?” Henry asked.

“He said he would be here at nine-thirty and he has ten more minutes. Try to be patient.”

Henry turned around, sat down, then rested his head against the back of the couch and heaved a sigh. “I just want to go get my dog.”

“I know, kid,” Emma soothed, rubbing her hand over his hair. “I’m excited to bring him home, too.” Glancing out the window, she smiled and said, “Look who’s here.”

His head shot up and he jumped off the couch, shouting, “He’s here! He’s here! Let’s go!”

Killian didn’t even have a chance to put the car in park before Henry was sprinting out the door, with his mother following behind him, still pulling on her coat.

Killian had just climbed out of the car when Emma reached the end of the sidewalk. “He’s a little eager to get there,” she said dryly.

“You don’t say,” Killian chuckled, looking into the back seat where Henry was already buckled in, nearly vibrating with excitement. Brushing a kiss against her cheek, Killian placed a hand on the small of her back to escort her around the rear of the car.

When they arrived at the shelter, Henry jumped out, clutching the new collar and leash in his hands. “C’mon, Mom,” he urged, hopping from foot to foot as he waited impatiently for the adults.

“Hold your horses, kid,” Emma replied, stepping from the car and closing the door as Killian did the same. “We have to sign some paperwork and pay the adoption fees, so it’s going to be a little while before Mr. Nolan brings Winston to you.”

“I know,” he said, “but the faster we go in there, the sooner we’ll get him.”

“You’ve got a point,” Emma agreed.

The three of them crossed the parking lot and Killian held the door for them to go inside. David was sitting at the desk behind the counter, a huge grin creasing his face when he saw them enter.

“Good morning!” he greeted. “I think Nor-, um, Winston senses something is going on. He was very excited when I fed him and let him out in the exercise yard this morning.”

“He probably knows it’s his ‘gotcha day’!” Henry declared. Turning to his mother, he added, “I told you he’s smart!”

David chuckled as he spread the paperwork out on the counter. After explaining each page, Emma signed where he told her and wrote a check for the fees. Henry gave him the collar so he could attach the dog license and chip information to it, then he asked the boy if he wanted to go with him to get Winston. To no one’s surprise, Henry jumped at the chance.

While they waited, Emma moved closer to Killian, reaching out to take his hands. “Thanks again for helping make this happen. It’s been hard watching Henry grieve for Ernie and have to tell him we can’t get another dog.”

“I can imagine, Love. I’m very happy I could help.” Dipping his head, he met her willing lips to share a kiss with her. After it ended, he said, “We need to plan our next date.”

“Yeah, about that,” she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave Winston with Belle and Liam until he gets a little more used to his surroundings.”

He nodded in understanding. “That’s true. Well, if we can’t go out on a date, perhaps we can plan one where we stay in.”

“At my place or yours?”

Before he had a chance to answer, the door to the back opened and Winston came through, straining forward on his leash and practically dragging Henry behind him. Emma and Killian bent down to try to pet the whirling dervish of a dog, attempting to get him to settle down.

“I think you’re right about him knowing something special is happening, Dave,” Killian said. “I’ve never seen him act this way.”

“Dogs seem to have instincts about these things,” David noted.

“Is he ready to go?” Emma asked.

“Yep, he’s all yours!” David replied happily. Reaching down, he scratched the dog behind the ears. “Be good, Winston. Enjoy your new family!”

They went out the front door, laughing at the way the dog practically strutted to the car. Once they were all buckled in, including Winston with his new doggy safety belt, Killian drove out of the parking lot. Henry patted the dog’s head and said, “You’ll never have to come back here again, boy. You’re going to live with us forever.”

The drive back to Emma’s seemed to go much more quickly than the one to the shelter. Killian pulled up to the curb and Emma reminded Henry to hold tightly to Winston’s leash so he wouldn’t run into the street.

Killian walked up the sidewalk behind them, but stopped short of following them into the house. When Emma realized it, she asked, “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I, uh, I didn’t want to assume.”

“If you don’t mind sharing me with a boy and a dog, we can consider today a date,” she grinned.

He returned the grin. “Sounds good to me.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

After a full day of romping and playing with Winston, it was easy getting Henry to go to bed that evening. When Emma went into his room after he was done showering and brushing his teeth, she found him already under the covers with the dog laying beside him.

“He does have a bed, you know,” she said, without any intention of making the dog move.

“He likes it here, don’t you boy?” Henry said, rubbing the dog’s belly.

“If he needs to go out in the middle of the night, make sure you wake me up, okay?”

“I will,” he yawned. “Are we going to church tomorrow?”

“I’m planning on it. David said Winston seems to be crate trained, so we’ll see how he does in there for a couple of hours.”

They went through Henry’s bedtime routine and he was already asleep by the time she read one page of their current book.

“He’s one happy kid,” Emma said as she went back into the living room and sat down beside Killian on the sofa. “And you played a big part in making him feel that way.”

Killian toyed with the hem of his button-down. “You give me far too much credit, Love.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, reaching out to tangle her fingers with his fidgeting ones.

“Because he’s been a happy lad since the first day I met him, and none of that was due to me. It goes to prove that he has a wonderful mother.”

“Some days I’m not so sure about that.”

He kept his head down, studying their entwined hands for several moments. Without looking at her, he said quietly, “Remember I told you that the woman I was dating previously was married?”

“Yeah.”

“She was several years older than me, and not only did she hide her marital status from me, she also failed to tell me she had a son.”

“Oh, wow,” Emma said. “That really must have come as a shock.”

“Aye, it did,” Killian affirmed. “One day after we broke up, I parked along the street down from his school and watched her arrive to walk him home. I wasn’t being a stalker, I was just curious. Her son was about the same age Henry is now, but he was nothing like your boy.” He finally looked up at her. “I’ve never seen a child look as sad and dejected as her son. It was as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders.”

“Poor little boy.”

“Aye, and I’m sure it was because of the choices his parents made. They cared only for themselves and their own gratification, not about how they were affecting their son.” He reached forward to brush a wayward strand of hair away from her face. “Emma, it’s quite obvious that starting from your very first decision to bring Henry into the world and raise him by yourself, you’ve made his happiness your priority. It’s one of the things I admire the most about you.”

Her face warmed from his praise. Scooting a little closer, she leaned against him and he put his arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I enjoyed our date today,” he said, “and I certainly didn’t mind sharing you with Henry and Winston. It did my heart good to see how much they love each other already.”

“Winston was sleeping on Henry’s bed and looked completely comfortable there. I just hope he doesn’t wake us up too many times during the night.”

“Well, he’s past the puppy stage and wasn’t able to go out at night while he was at the shelter, so maybe he won’t get you up at all.”

“That would be nice. I don’t want to be yawning during the sermon tomorrow.”

He leaned back to look at her. “I’m happy to hear you’re coming to church again.”

“Yeah, Henry and I both really liked our classes and I thought the service was great. I especially enjoyed the music.”

“I heard you singing. You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you,” she said, her face reddening again. “I didn’t realize I was singing that loudly.”

“I don’t think you were, I was just standing close to you. You shouldn’t be self-conscious about singing praises to God, anyway.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, snuggling closer to him. “Do you want to watch something?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’m quite content just talking,” he murmured.

“Mmm, me too,” she hummed. “Why is it always so easy to talk to you?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps we’re soul mates.”

“Do you believe there is such a thing as soul mates?” she asked, looking up into his face.

“I didn’t,” he replied. “Until I met you.”

Their lips connected for a long, sweet, languid kiss.

“Killian?” she whispered, when they parted just enough for her to talk.

“Yes, Love?”

“Maybe I’m not content just to talk.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma went to bed two hours later with the taste and feel of Killian’s lips still lingering on hers. He starred in her dreams and she awoke the next morning with a smile on her face. After yawning and stretching, she realized Henry hadn’t woken her up at all during the night to put Winston out.

Throwing back the covers, she quickly padded down the hall to his room. Peeking around the edge of his slightly open door, she smiled at the sight of the boy and dog still asleep.

After showering and getting dressed, she woke them up, took Winston out while Henry dressed, and went back inside to fix breakfast. As she was stirring the scrambled eggs, Henry entered the kitchen and immediately went to get Winston’s food bowl. They had already agreed that feeding him and keeping his water bowl filled would be Henry’s responsibility.

They sat down to eat and Emma smiled at the sight of the dog sitting right beside Henry’s chair. “Don’t forget that we’re not feeding him from the table. I don’t want him to get into the habit of begging, like Ernie did.”

“I know,” Henry said, then chewed thoughtfully for several seconds. He swallowed and said, “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you love Killian?”

Emma really wished she hadn’t just taken a sip of coffee, because she nearly choked on it. With watering eyes, she asked, “What makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “You guys hold hands and sit really close together and everything. I even saw him kiss you. You have to love somebody to kiss them, don’t you?”

Emma’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, resembling a fish out of water. She thought she and Killian had been discreet when they shared brief kisses, but apparently her son witnessed at least one of them.

“Killian and I, we…we’re just dating, Henry,” she finally managed to say. “People date to get to know each other, to…to see if they might, um, fall in love. Kissing is a part of dating, but it doesn’t mean we love each other.”

“So you don’t love him?”

“I…I honestly don’t know yet. I do like him and I like spending time with him. He’s fun and he makes me laugh.” She leaned across the table and placed her hand on top of Henry’s forearm. “How do you feel about me dating Killian? It’s always been just you and me. Would you be upset if he and I did fall in love?”

“Would you get married?”

The question took her by surprise, but she maintained eye contact with him, wanting to show him how much his opinion mattered. “Not without you being okay with it. You always come first, Henry, and I won’t do anything to make you unhappy.”

“I wouldn’t be unhappy if you fell in love with Killian and married him.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He shook his head decisively. “Nope. I like him. He’s really nice to me and I can tell he makes you happy. You smile and laugh a lot more when he’s around. I think it would be cool to have Killian as my dad. That’s what he would be if you got married, right?”

“Technically, he would be your step-dad, but that doesn’t make any difference and I’m sure it wouldn’t matter to Killian, either. I appreciate how he treats you and how he likes spending time with you.”

“Yeah, me too. And Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you, me, Killian and Winston would make a great family.”

She smiled and gently squeezed his arm. “I think so too, kid.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Thanks so much for reading. The last chapter will be posted next week!

NEW TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones@zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 3 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain Cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

26 notes · View notes

nikatyler · 3 months ago

Text

Zeph 1.0

in other news we continue clowning for Astarion and letting him drink from us

(x)

Right so I don't know what or who to believe anymore in this goddamn game

I say goddamn but I still love it don't get me wrong

(x)

mum come pick me up i'm scared

now tell me why tf did i rush here with no spell slots left

yeah we're fucked, reload 💀

(x)

i may be a monster

(x)

I'm starting to get a headache but I wanna keep playing 🥴

Hyperfocus this, hyperfocus that, what about "I'm fully aware I should be doing something else or else I will suffer greatly but I can't stop and it's worth the pain" kinda focus

(x)

*You notice the blood's source* *Astarion approves* okay thanks??? 😂

(x)

"Can you imagine dressing entirely in red?" I'm not saving your ass when I create Ross for my next playthrough smh

(x)

I felt really really really bad about this and thought I was making a big mistake (I probably was 💀) but seeing only 7 % of players unlocked this? Yeah that's cool. Or maybe not. Idk I feel bad 💀

(x)

Trying to take down the bitch evil vampire again

Am I struggling? Mayhaps

We are Fucked™ lmao (that's a lmao of big pain not lmao of this is hilarious)

Alright let's try again

How do y'all not get attached and just play and stay cool because it's just a game. I'm 👌 this close to ugly rage crying lol stop being mean to my boy leave him alone stay away from him get a job

Not now duo dammit

...fuck

Yeah no I'm reloading and I'm just gonna fuck around the city a bit, I can't do this rn 💀

Okay so the strategy of 1) just go there 2) try not to die is not working too well in the big fights in act 3 for me 💀 oh well I'll try harder I guess

(x)

they need a pair of glasses smh

(x)

So I'm seriously considering throwing 2 weeks of gameplay in the trash just to get a better shot at a romance but…now I'm thinking about some tedious parts and ehhh 🫠

Is he worth it? He is worth it. Right?

Lmao I don't remember the last time a fictional character had a grasp on me like that. It's rather embarrassing really 💀 I'm too old to act like this aren't I 💀

(x)

Actually considering how bad today has been, reloading that far will probably Fix Me™ so I'm doing that right after a little afterwork nap

And if it turns out to be pointless or a bad idea I can always just switch back to the furthest point in the storyline I got, I won't overwrite that save

(x)

Sacrificing about 42 hours of gameplay 🫡 it's been an honor but I need the vampire's love more than oxygen. Reloading now 🫡

And I'm making sure to actually finish some quests I didn't the first time *cough* the shadow curse *cough*

(x)

I put him in Karlach's clothes...for science

(x)

HELP I'VE BEEN LAUGHING AT THIS FOR FIVE MINUTES NOW

(x)

I need to pickpocket people more. In the game I mean. Every time I succeed, I get a good giggle out of it 🤭

(x)

organ rearranger you say...can i...can i say something...

Okay we're all adults here right I can say it. Minors look away this isn't a safe space for you

Well let's just say I stole this for someone and he can rearrange my organs anytime okay byeeeeeeee

Well technically he stole it himself I just giggled with my finger ready on f8 in case things go badly 🤭

(x)

Okay so I just found that one reason why some things weren't going well for me was simply because I don't long rest enough in the game 💀

(x)

Me when I first started playing bg3: I hope there's a way to avoid a lot of combat, I hope I'll be able to just talk my way through Me now: woooo slaughter!! 😗

(x)

Nooo I was like "wooo yeah cutscene finally!!! is it happening?? are we so back???? we're so back amirite" and it's this guy 😭😭 (with all due respect i was hoping for something else 💀)

(x)

and it's only gonna get worse

let's goooooo

(x)

Does this game hate me or what

It's so joever it's so joever I'm just not getting any cutscenes in the camp lmao

My negative rizz is so strong not even videogame characters want me

(x)

You know what? I get her

(x)

WAIT HOLD WE ARE SO BACK

I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS *incoherent screaming*

I truly am the embodiment of this meme

I'm not even trying to scream anymore my voice is dead

I can't believe this actually happened so now I'm pretty much spamming the kiss, ignoring everything else

"I play for the plot" she said 🤭

(x)

my game crashed, good thing I save every five seconds otherwise I'd think about jumping off of very tall somethings

okay i actually lost like zero progress, jfc blessed day

(x)

Zeph you're standing way too close lol

(x)

"I'm gonna speedrun the parts I've been through about a week ago," she said, failing to realize she's not a good runner

There's no such thing as speedrunning this game lol. I just want to do everything always. Fight everything and open every crate and loot everyone 🤭

(x)

back to act 3 we go now that i've righted my wrongs 😌😌

(x)

wise words from daddy, wise words indeed

(x)

buddy you have one job

(x)

...okay?

(x)

"watch out for anyone acting STRANGELY" said by the guy who tries to suck your blood on like the first night of camping together but ok love whatever you say 💀

(x)

#zeph 1.0

5 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years ago

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

7K notes · View notes

foreveranevilregal · 2 years ago

Note

I have a fluff idea if you’re interested,I forgot where I got it from but it was soo cute.🥹

Just…Pepa and Felix have to get marry again because Antonio/Camilo(any of them) is sad that they didn't invite him to their wedding. Like seeing his parents’ wedding photos but he wasn’t in those photos so he just assumes that they throw a secret party without telling him. 😂

How cute! Here it finally is. ^_^ That's right, I'm still here.

“What are you doing?” Camilo plopped down next to his sister.

“Looking at pictures in the photo album.” Dolores scooted over on the couch. “Want to join me?”

“Sure!” He began rifling through the pages, bending the edges in his excitement.

“Careful.” Dolores gently pried his small fingers off the book. “The album is delicate; we don’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, okay, sorry.” Camilo nodded solemnly, placing his hands on his lap. Although the album was now protected, his fingers would not be stilled and kept drumming on the tops of his legs. He leaned over to see which page Dolores was looking at. “Hey, that’s Mira!” He exclaimed.

“That’s right.” Dolores smiled, angling the book towards him. “This was her last birthday party.” The photo in question featured a beaming Mirabel, glasses almost bigger than her face, surrounded by the entire family. Well, except for… “See, there’s her cake.” Dolores pointed at the page to distract herself from her thoughts.

“And there I am!” Camilo’s tiny finger prodded at the photo, leaving a smudge over his face. He grinned proudly, showing off the gap where he had recently lost a tooth.

Dolores stifled a laugh. “There you are,” she agreed. “All of us are here in the picture, celebrating with Mira.”

Camilo frowned, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. His attention returned to the photo. “That was a fun day,” he reminisced. Señor García from the market had brought candy and slipped him a few extra pieces when his mamá wasn’t looking. Plus his tía had made a really yummy cake.

“It sure was.” Dolores flipped a few pages back. “And look, there’s your gift ceremony!”

Camilo craned over to himself standing in front of the door that gave him his super cool gift. Ever since that night, he could shapeshift into whoever he wanted, as long as he knew what they looked like. “I got the coolest gift,” he bragged, puffing up his chest. Screwing up his features in concentration, he shifted into every family member in turn, starting from his abuela, and all the way down.

Dolores gave him a faint smile in amusement. “What did mamá say about shifting?” She reminded him.

“Not to do it unless I needed to.” Camilo adjusted Mirabel’s glasses with a sigh and turned back into himself. “Sorry, Lola.”

They continued going through the photo album, Dolores skipping over any pages she thought Camilo would find boring (which was a lot of them). Flipping the page over, she paused. This was a good one. “Want to see my favorite picture?”

“Yeah!” Camilo moved closer to her so he could see the photo better. Slowly, a smile of recognition lit up his face. “That’s mamá! And papá!” He clapped his hands excitedly.

“It is.” Dolores let a soft smile spread on her face. Her mamá looked absolutely stunning in her dress and her veil. And her papá was very handsome in his guayabera. Both of them looked like they’d struck gold. Indeed, a bright sun bathed them in a golden glow, and a brilliant rainbow arced over them. Although she hardly needed the weather to confirm how happy her mamá had been; the love shining in her eyes made it more than evident. Dolores wiped a happy tear out of the corner of her eye. “This was their wedding day, when they got married.”

“Mamá was beautiful,” Camilo noted, touching the photo gingerly.

Dolores hummed. “She was.”

“And papá was all dressed up.” Camilo giggled. “It’s weird.”

“He looked very handsome,” Dolores defended, but secretly she saw where he was coming from. Their papá definitely preferred to dress more casually.

Camilo studied the photo carefully, taking in every detail. Suddenly he lifted his head. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Well, that photo was just of the two of them…” Dolores turned back a couple pages until she found what she was looking for. “There’s one with their families.”

Camilo took in the group of people gathered around his parents. He recognized his tíos and tías, and of course his abuela, but… “Where am I?”

“What do you mean, Milo?”

“I don’t see myself in the picture.” He pointed at the crowd. “Where am I?”

Dolores let out a laugh. “You weren’t there, hermanito.”

He appeared crestfallen. “I wasn’t?”

Dolores shook her head. “No, of course not.”

He frowned. “So mamá and papá had this big party and they didn’t even invite me?”

The idea struck Dolores as ridiculous, and she couldn’t suppress her laughter.

That was clearly the wrong thing to do. Camilo pushed the album back onto her lap and slid off the couch. “I don’t want to look at pictures anymore,” he announced dejectedly before leaving the room.

Dolores stood up, setting down the album. “Wait, Camilo, that’s not what I meant-“ she called after him, but he was already gone. She groaned.

Dinner that night was a more subdued affair than they were used to. Instead of cracking jokes and shifting into random kids from around the village to give his mamá a scare, Camilo sat quietly, pushing food around his plate.

“You okay, mi rayo de sol?” Pepa set down her fork and knife and examined him concernedly. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

He shrugged. “Not hungry, mamá.”

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Not hungry? Is this the same boy that kept trying to shift into other family members to get more food at breakfast?”

The corner of his lip quirked up in a weak attempt at a smile. Carefully, he guided his fork into his mouth, swallowing the food almost as soon as he’d eaten it. He smiled at his mamá, hoping he hadn’t made her sad.

Pepa’s eyes lingered on him, but after a few more bites she seemed satisfied that he was all right.

Finally, everyone else had emptied their plates and started to clear the table. Camilo used the commotion to slip away unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

Pepa pulled Dolores aside as the others cleaned. “Have you seen your brother?”

Dolores pursed her lips in thought. “No, he must have left without us noticing.”

Pepa sighed. “He hardly ate anything. That’s not like him.”

Dolores put on a brave smile. “Mamá, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just wasn’t hungry.”

Pepa shook her head. “No, Camilo is always hungry. I had trouble getting you to eat when you were little, but he’s always been good about finishing his food. Something is wrong.”

Dolores worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Mamá, I’m sure everything is fine.” The words sounded unconvincing even to her.

Pepa fixed Dolores with a look. “Dolores, if you know something…”

Dolores glanced up uneasily at the cloud that had started forming over their heads. She sighed. “We were looking at pictures in the photo album today,” she began uncertainly.

“Okay…” Pepa gestured for her to continue.

“Some of the pictures were from your wedding. Camilo wanted to know why he wasn’t there.”

Pepa closed her eyes, letting out a weary sigh. “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t get to tell him anything. He said something about you not inviting him, and the idea was so funny that I couldn’t help laughing. At the comment, not at him,” she clarified. “Then he got up, said he didn’t want to look at pictures anymore, and left.”

“Ay, Lola…” Pepa massaged her temples. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Dolores pouted. “But I wasn’t laughing at him! Obviously there was no way you could invite him because he didn’t exist yet!”

“I know that, but he doesn’t.” Pepa exhaled slowly. “I need to go talk to him.” She excused herself from the kitchen and went to find Camilo.

Camilo had already gotten into bed. He was too sad to stay awake. Why wouldn’t his mamá and papá want him at their wedding? Didn’t they want him around? Did that mean they didn’t love him? He sniffled quietly.

There was a quiet knock on his door. “Camilo?” It was his mamá. She came inside, standing in the doorway and looking at him worriedly.

“Hola, mamá,” he greeted her glumly.

She crossed the room and sat on his bed next to him. “I saved you some arepas from dinner.” She held up a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

Happiness flickered briefly in his eyes before extinguishing. “Thanks, mamá, but I’m not hungry.”

“Not even for arepas?” Pepa questioned. “They’re your favorite.”

They were his favorite, but how could he eat knowing that his parents didn’t want him at their wedding? When they’d invited everyone else. His answer came in the form of him turning his back on her, staring at the wall and trying to keep his lower lip from wobbling.

“Camilo…” His mamá’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and turned him gently to face her again. “What’s wrong, mi bebé?”

He debated how to say what was bothering him, but ended up only saying, “I’m sad, mamá,” before the tears began trickling down his cheeks.

“Ay, Milo…” Pepa scooped him up in her arms, cradling his head to her chest and rocking him as he cried. “Te amo tanto, mi vida,” she murmured as she rocked him back and forth.

He mumbled something, but the words were garbled through the tears.

“What did you say, mi amor?”

He wiped the tears off his face. “I said, you love me, but not enough to invite me to your wedding.”

“Oh, Milo…” She stroked her hand soothingly over unruly curls. “What do you mean?”

He sniffled. “Dolores was showing me some pictures today, and I saw you and papá at your wedding. And everyone else was there too, but I wasn’t. Why didn’t you invite me?”

“Ay, mi bebé…” She held his head tighter to her chest. “That’s not how it was.”

He pulled his head away. “What do you mean, that’s not how it was?” He demanded, sounding hurt. “I saw the pictures.”

Pepa paused for a second. “Oh good, then you can tell me if you saw Dolores in them.”

Camilo stopped to think. “I don’t think so…” he answered hesitantly.

“What about any of your primas?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t there either.”

“That’s right.” Pepa smiled at him, taking his small hand in her own. “None of you were there.”

He absorbed the information, then his face sank again. None of them were there. Did his mamá not like kids or something? “You didn’t want any of us there.”

“Of course we would have wanted you there, you’re our bebé,” Pepa reassured him. “There was just one problem.”

This caught his attention. “What?”

“You weren’t born yet.”

“What??”

Pepa laughed heartily. “Your papá and I got married before you were born. Before any of you were born, in fact. That’s why none of you are in the pictures.”

“Oh…” Camilo let this new information sink in. An idea began to form in his mind. “Well, we’re all born now.”

Pepa tilted her head in confusion. “Yes?”

“So you guys should have another wedding!” Camilo suggested, his eyes gleaming hopefully. “That way we can all be there.”

It made perfect sense. If none of them could be there because they weren’t born, then they should just have another wedding so they could be there.

His mom appeared less thrilled at the idea than he was. “I don’t know, mijo…” she trailed off. “Having a wedding isn’t so easy.”

“Good thing that all of us kids are here to help you now.” He shot her his most winning smile, showing off every single one of his teeth.

Pepa hid her face behind her hand, letting out a small noise of exasperation, but showing just a sliver of a smile. “You’re impossible, Milo,” she mused. “You and your papá can convince me to do anything.”

“So that’s a yes?” He began bouncing up and down in his bed.

“It’s a yes.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe I let Camilo talk me into this.” Pepa smoothed down the front of her dress nervously.

“It’ll be fine,” Julieta reassured her, fastening the dress and stepping back to double check. “You look beautiful.”

“Really?” Pepa chewed her lip anxiously.

“Really, tía. Here.” Isabela handed her a flower. “For your hair.”

“Thank you, Isa.” Pepa accepted the flower with a smile and placed it behind her ear.

“Remember, this isn’t actually a whole wedding. Just the best parts, for Camilo.” Julieta reminded her, putting the veil on top of her head. “So no need to agonize. He’s just happy to be there.”

Pepa nodded, exhaling deeply. “You’re right.” And yet, she was still anxious for some unfathomable reason. Heaviness settled in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t quite place her finger on why. Her hands drifted to her hair reflexively as she began chanting her mantra. “Clear skies, clear skies.”

“You already got through the real wedding.” Julieta hugged her carefully. “This is just for fun.”

Being reminded of her actual wedding brought back unpleasant memories: of teasing and smirks and thoughtless jokes that caused her to hurricane. Of a brother that had ruined everything.

Of a brother that wasn’t here this time.

Pepa shook the thoughts out of her head and took a deep breath to steel herself. “Just for fun,” she repeated.

Isabela handed her the bouquet and then they went outside.

After Camilo had made his request, Pepa explained his wish to the rest of the family. Thankfully, everyone was on board. Just like Camilo had predicted, the children and their gifts were a huge help. Isabela had conjured up breathtaking flowers that spilled over all around the meadow. Luisa had done the heavy lifting, both figuratively and literally, to get everything set up, from the chairs to the altar. Dolores had kept an ear out for anything that could go wrong and alerted Pepa so she could fix it as soon as possible. Camilo, well, Camilo was everywhere, doing whatever was asked of him for once. And whatever Mirabel lacked in terms of a magical gift was more than made up for by her skill with a needle and thread. She had embroidered beautiful ribbons for her and Félix, patterned with suns and raindrops. She had offered them up shyly, apologizing for her lack of a gift, but to Pepa, Mirabel’s thoughtfulness and effort were the best gift she could imagine.

Although the family was on board, the church was not; insisting that they were already married and they couldn’t conduct the ceremony again. So, instead of in the church, they had chosen to reenact their wedding in the meadow. It was lovely and spacious, giving them plenty of room for both the ceremony and the subsequent dancing.

The priest had absolutely refused to take any part in this, so one of Félix’s friends stepped in to conduct the ceremony. He talked about the beauty of marriage, of making a lifelong commitment to someone and wanting to celebrate it with your loved ones.

Feeling her attention start to drift during the long speech, Pepa caught Camilo waggling his fingers at her out of the corner of her eye and smiled towards him. He could barely sit still, but she saw he was trying very hard for this. And, she noticed with satisfaction, he’d even managed to keep his nice clothes clean.

Once the speech was done, the bride and groom recited their vows once more. And yes, Pepa cried again, plastering the veil to her face with rain. Félix just had a way with words that always got to her. Shakily, she read through hers as well, the paper she held turning into a mushy clump in her hand, focusing on the way Félix’s hands gripped her own, grounding her through her storm.

It was a good thing he was there to steady her, because her hands were trembling so badly she almost spilled wax on his nice guayabera when they lit their candles. Fortunately, she managed to move the candle away at the last second and wax dripped onto the altar instead. Not even her rain could wash that away.

But, being the wonderful man that he was, he just laughed it off, and continued the ceremony. They lit their joint candle, and exchanged rings once more (well, more like removed and put back on, but details). After this, they were pronounced husband and wife and everyone jumped out of their seats, whooping joyfully.

Pepa had gotten so swept up in her emotions, she’d almost forgotten this wasn’t the real thing. It was like she was thrown back to that day over a dozen years ago when she’d finally gotten to marry Félix. Then she saw Camilo milling around with his cousins and caught his eye.

He tore away from the group and ran towards her. “Mamá! That was awesome!” He exclaimed breathlessly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah?” Pepa laughed. “I thought you were getting bored during the speech.”

“Well, he did talk for a very long time,” Camilo acknowledged, “and it was kinda mushy, but he was saying stuff about how much you guys love each other and are happy together, and how we all want to celebrate your love.” A brief grimace was quickly replaced by a genuine smile.

“Here we are, celebrating.” Pepa swept an arm around the meadow. They’d cleared away the chairs to make more room for the festivities. Someone had brought instruments, so people were dancing to a lively tune. This time, she’d even managed to keep the guests dry. “Was it what you hoped for?”

Camilo nodded so eagerly that Pepa thought his head would fall off. “Wait,” he said. “Something is missing.”

Pepa mentally ran through the list of things she planned to include for her wedding. She’d hit every point on the list. She frowned. “What?”

“Pictures!” Camilo bounded towards the rest of the family, yanking her along by her hand.

Of course. The reason they were doing all of this in the first place: so they could have photos to remember the day by. She chuckled. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s take some pictures!”

Somehow, they managed to arrange everyone so they all fit in the picture. Pepa and Félix were in the middle, with Dolores standing next to Félix and Camilo standing in front of Pepa. The rest of the family filled in the space around them.

“Ready, everyone?” The photographer had finished setting up the camera.

Everyone nodded and jostled about to make sure they were all visible.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

Click!

#pepa madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #felix madrigal #julieta madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #mswong #pepa and dolores #pepa and camilo #dolores and camilo #writing answered prompts #writing encanto #foreveranevilregal writes #asks #yeah i know it's been ages #hopefully i can get back into it now

86 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Jolly Rancher - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day

A/N: I did moderate research for this because the only person I actually know with diabetes is a cousin I don’t speak to.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In hindsight, taking the Druthers out in the bay for a party after sunset wasn’t exactly the best idea you and Sarah had ever come up with. And yeah, technically, taking the boat out would have been totally fine and acceptable but none of you had considered bringing anything but alcohol with you. Six pogues (two honorary) on a yacht in the middle of the bay with just alcohol and weed. It was a bad combination in any version of the world but especially in this one, where you’d been pregaming white claw because you were finally, finally, gonna tell JJ how you felt about him.

The crush had been a saga ongoing since you had first discovered JJ Maybank, which coincided with discovering that boys, while terrible, were incredibly attractive. And sometimes...not too terrible. John B had started working for your family the summer before highschool and at the same time JJ started to pop up. Around the Druthers when John B was cleaning the boat, in a neighbor’s yard mowing the grass or cleaning the pool. And then at the Island Club. By then you’d started hanging out with Kiara and her friends and JJ wasn’t just some cute guy who was friends with John B.

“Honey,” Kiara laughed, reaching for the can of Naturdays in your hand, “I think you need to slow down.”

“I’m fine.” You promised, knee jerking rapidly as you gulped the rest of the drink down before Kiara could take it from you.

You weren’t a heavy drinker. The last time you’d gotten drunk was in ninth grade, at a house party on the cut with Kiara. You’d guzzled down one too many Pabst trying to act cool in front of JJ and had ended up in the hospital in diabetic shock. Once everyone was sure you weren’t going to die, your father had laid into you about how irresponsible you were and how you had acted like a child. It was embarrassing, mostly because you were still saddled to a hospital bed and your friends were standing in the hallway, well within ear shot of Ward.

After that, you stayed away from anything more than two drinks at a party and you always kept your insulin with you. Except, apparently, for tonight. You’d gotten yourself worked up over confessing your feelings to JJ and the possibility of rejection that you were well on the way to drunk. And your insulin was in your backpack, in Rafe’s truck.

“You’re not fine.” Kiara laughed, “you’re like, buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” you offered her a dopey smile as you leaned forward, whirling your pointer finger around as you made buzzing noises and tried to poke her.

“What the hell?” She swatted your hand away, “are you sure you’re okay?”

The commotion was enough to get Sarah’s attention and she turned away from John B to look over at the two of you. “You’re like vibrating babe,” Sarah said, “you’re really jittery.”

“Fine, I’m fine...I’m all good.” You promised, bracing your hand on Sarah’s shoulder as you went to stand up. You missed your footing, tripping over the air and hitting the deck before either Kiara or Sarah could catch you.

“Oh my god!” Kiara got down on her knees next to you and helped you sit up, leaning partially against her. She pushed your shirt up so that she could check your pump and noticed realized it had been going off. “Hey, do you have like...something to boost her blood sugar? I think it’s dropping really low, I can’t really read this?”

“It’s definitely low.” You replied, hands shaking as you checked your pump, “yeah...too much...too much alcohol.”

“Where’s your insulin?” Sarah asked, crouching down so she could try to meet your eyes, “hey, look at me, where’s your insulin?”

You hummed, a little too long before finally looking at Sarah, “uh, Rafe’s...shit, Rafe’s truck.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” Sarah cursed, getting up to grab her phone so she could call him, “John B, can you take us back?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, heading for the ladder.

“Here!” JJ pushed through Pope and Kiara, spilling the contents of his backpack onto the deck beside you. Amongst a change of clothes, some pilfered pens, his wallet, house keys, weed, a stick of deodorant, and a travel toothbrush, was a bag of jolly ranchers. He grabbed a green one out and unwrapped it, holding it out to you, “here, it’ll make you feel better.”

“You have a bag of jolly ranchers in your backpack?” Kiara asked incredulously.

“Of course,” JJ replied, “if her sugar drops she said one jolly rancher usually does the trick.”

It was a stupid thing to smile about, especially since you were currently using Kiara to hold yourself up and sucking on green apple jolly rancher, but you couldn’t help it. You had mentioned that ages ago, the first time you went out with the pogues after your drunken night turned ER visit, as you sat on the dock next to JJ. You had doubted he’d even cared and been embarrassed afterward for just rambling on about yourself but he remembered.

“You remembered,” you said as JJ sat beside you, letting you lean on his shoulder as the yacht headed back to the dock.

Sarah had gotten a hold of Rafe quicker than she expected. He was already talking when he answered the phone, telling her that he was on the way back from Topper’s. According to Rafe he turned his truck immediately, that was what he told you later, when you were feeling more like yourself again. That he’d realized your backpack was still sitting on the passenger seat and he did a u-turn right there in the middle of the street. You weren’t sure that was totally true, your older brother’s pension for dramatics and your family’s obsession with treating you like a baby.

Usually, it felt stifling but right now you were feeling pretty shitty about yourself. The jolly rancher did exactly what it was supposed to, boosting your blood sugar enough that you were beginning to feel better.

“What were thinking?” Rafe called the minute he boarded the Druthers, “you know alcohol makes your blood sugar drop!”

“I know, I know!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You’d moved from the floor to the couch, JJ leaving your side the minute your brother ran up the jetty. “I’m not a kid Rafe,” you muttered, grabbing your backpack from him.

“Really? Cause you left your bag in my truck and you’re out here drinking your ass off.” He snapped.

“She’s okay,” Sarah urged.

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I am! And I’m right here!” You huffed, “Rafe, thank you and I know you were worried but I’m okay.”

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to be dad here...but you can’t take risks like that, you know better.”

“I’m fine!” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pushed passed Rafe, climbing down the ladder to the jetty. You’d apologize later, for now you were irritable and embarrassed and you just wanted to be back in your room, locked in where no one could see you and remind you how horrible this entire night was. The only decent thing that had happened was JJ but the more you let yourself psychoanalyze everything that happened the more you were positive that the pogues just saw you as a kid too. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you hadn’t been for the last ten years, since you were diagnosed.

The Druthers said docked but you couldn’t tell from your bedroom window if everyone had gone home or if they were still hanging out and partying. You thought about texting Sarah but she would just tell you to come back down to the dock and stop pouting in your bedroom. You did your usual checks, to make sure your blood sugar had gone back up, and changed into comfier clothes. Even scrubbing off your makeup...you’d let this shitty feeling die before you saw anyone again.

Or at least, that was the plan. As you were sitting in bed though, a knock at your window startled you. Not just a tap but a full-on knock. You climbed out of bed and went to the window, laughing when you saw JJ standing on the small balcony off your room.

“What are you doing here?” You mouthed, reaching for the lock so you could open the window.

He pointed to his ear and then shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the window open and sat on the sill, “What are you doing here JJ?” You were trying your best to calm your racing heart, the last thing you needed was to go into cardiac arrest in front of him too.

“You left the party.”

“Not exactly in a partying mood...I was being stupid tonight.”

He sat down on the windowsill beside you, facing out toward the backyard but turning to look at you, “hey, I’m stupid every night.”

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “I’m so careful...I haven’t had a night that bad in a long time.”

“Why weren’t you? Careful, tonight, I mean.” He asked.

“It’s stupid.” You put your hands on your knees and looked away from him. You’d hyped yourself up to crashing lows and now he wanted you to tell him why? “You should go back to the party.”

“Not really in the mood...can you believe it?” He laughed like it was nothing but you could hear the heaviness in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault...I just meant. If you’re up here, I don’t really feel like hanging out down there.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and looked over at him, feeling just the slightest catch in your throat. For a second you thought this night was going to get even worse and you’d throw up...but instead you just started talking, words falling out with no control, “I pregamed with Sarah before we even got on the Druthers cause I told her I was gonna tell you tonight that I liked you but I was so nervous that you would tell me you didn’t wanna date me so I just kept drinking...” you said. You realized a moment later what the implication was, “not that its on you that my sugars dropped...or like, not that you have to say you like me just cause I almost passed out.”

“What if I do like you though?”

“You do?” You asked, shifting more toward him, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously...why do you think I came all the way up here? Or carry around jolly ranchers? I like you...I’d do anything for you.” He replied.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you leaned closer to him, “oh well, now it’s definitely your fault.”

He laughed, “let me make it up to you.”

You nodded, standing up and climbing back through the window before holding your hand out for him. JJ was quick to his feet, taking your hand and pushing the window closed as he followed you further into your room.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #collecting stories imagine

359 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Note

I feel there isnt enough sapnap x karl x quackity x reader, so can I request sap x karl x quackity x y/n where everone js tired at the end of the day, and despite having separate rooms, they all collapse together in one person’s bed

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader (HOLY SHIT THE POLY SHIP REQUESTSSSSSSS)

Trigger warnings: swearing

premise: vidcon pannels and meeting fans can be tiering, and maybe by the time the day is done you and all of your crushes collapse into bed together without realizing until the next morning ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

“Blep” talking

‘blep’ thinking

(y/n/n)- your nickname

(y/s/n)- your screen name

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

Ah vidcon, a content creators dream, or worse nightmare, or in your opinion, wild trip that lasted three days.

It was your first time seeing anyone from the Dream SMP in a while, and your were practically buzzing with excitement by the time you were getting off the plane in California.

You fiddled with your carry on as you made your way towards baggage claim, grinning upon hearing a yell of “Oh my god is that (Y/n) from the internet!?”

You turned to see Alex standing just outside the gate he’d landed at, quickly you ran to hug him, stomach filling with butterflies at his touch. “Wait it’s Alex from the internet!”

You both laughed as you pulled away, starting back to baggage claim, “Are you excited for vidcon?” He asked.

“Yeah, what I’m not excited for is having to share a house with you idiot for a weekend.”

He scoffed, “What do you mean? It’s gonna be fun!”

“Oh yeah, the entire SMP together in one house, is such a good idea. It’s gonna be chaos!”

“That’s the fun part!”

“I like to sleep at night without being interrupted by random screaming and stuff.” You argued.

“I’m sure there won’t be random screaming.”

“You seriously underestimate Tommy.” By now you had made it to baggage claim and began to look around for the right carousel.

You split up, planning on meeting back by the door to wait outside for Bad, who had arrived the day before and was picking people up, a few at a time.

After waiting at one carousel for a few minutes your suitcase came rolling out, but as you went to grab it someone else grabbed it from behind you, a familiar voice drawling, “Hey, hey.”

Grinning you turned to see Nick smiling back at you, “Hey yourself.”

He hugged you, and again your stomach filled with butterflies.

Pull away you smiled, “Come on, I think I left Alex just over there.”

Grabbing your suitcase in one hand, and his hand in the other you tugged him off toward where you’d left Alex, calling, “Alex look who I found!” as soon as he was in view.

Nick dropped your hand to grab Alex’s to pull him into a hug, and you found yourself fighting a grin at how red Alex's face turned.

“Bad texted me that he’s almost here!” You announced after checking your phone.

“Who else is he picking up?” Nick asked.

“Uhhh,” You pulled the messages back up, “Karl and Fundy, and then Wilbur is supposed to be getting another rental car and driving the rest of the Europeans when they get here, minus George cause apparently he also flew out early.”

You all headed out towards the pick up area, weaving through the crowds of people you felt Nick grab the back of your shirt, and when you looked back at him in question he muttered, “So I don’t lose you Idiot.”

All you could do was hope your face was clear of any blush as you smiled back.

You all ended up stood near the curb when a voice cut through the chatter, “Hey gu-uys!”

“Karl!” The three of you exclaimed as he ran through the crowd towards you.

Upon reaching you he some how managed to get his arms around all of you enough for a group hug, and you laughed, “Shouldn’t you be at the other gate?”

“Yeah, but I thought I saw you guys so I came over here, and I was right!”

Alex cocked an eyebrow, “What if it wasn’t us?”

“uhhh, I dunno, awkwardly ran at random people?”

You all laughed, and Nick scoffed, “You’re ridiculous.”

After a few more minutes of waiting, a car slowed near the curb, Fundy’s head practically falling from passenger window, “I’m looking for some youtubers, dumb American ones, you seen any?”

Bad smacked him, “they aren’t dumb, hey guys!”

You waved at them as the guys started loading their suitcases into the back of the car, and after Karl insisted he take yours as well, you slid into the back seat, “What’s the house situation like?”

“It looks like just about everyone will get there own room,” Bad reported, “But Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled are sharing the room with the bunk beds, because Clay designated it as the kids room.”

You snickered as Alex climbed into the back next to you, leaving Nick and Karl to take the spots in the middle row of the van.

“And obviously cause Kristen’s coming she and Phil are sharing, and then Eret said he, Puffy, and Niki would take the room with the double beds,” Fundy offered, “Which means the rest of us should get single rooms.”

Alex elbowed you, “Told you wouldn’t get stuck with random screaming.”

“Oh there's still time for that.”

After getting to the airbnb and racing Fundy for one of the bigger rooms that was left (it was decided Phil and Kristen would get the master bedroom, and Clay had already claimed the biggest guest bedroom), you dropped your suitcase in one corner and brought your toiletries bag in the shared bathroom between your and Nick’s rooms, before flopping back onto your bed.

No more than three minutes passed before Karl wandered into your room, flopping down next to you, “Ranboo and Sam are making nachos, and Dream and Nick found a foosball table in the garage, so a mini tournament is being organized if you want in.”

“Foosball?” You questioned.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.”

You allowed him to tug you up, and followed him down from the left hall of bedrooms, through the living room and to the connected garage where George was yelling over everyone to try and form teams.

“Me and (Y/n) are a team!” Nick announced, grabbing your hand to pull you towards him.

“Okay, that leaves Big Q and Karl as the last team for now! When other people show up they can join.” George announced.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of foosball games, nacho’s nearly being spilled everywhere and the rest of the people arriving.

The next day was the first day of vidcon, and after getting dressed in some casual clothes you grabbed your laptop and headed out to the living room, mostly empty in the quiet house, with the exception of Tubbo, who was flipping through tv channels, and Phil, who was tinkering around in the kitchen.

“So what’s your plan for the day?” Tubbo asked, finally having settled on a baking show.

“Uhh, stress about the panel until it’s time for the panel, hang out, maybe find a pizza place, you?”

“Me and Tommy are just gonna wander the convention center most of today cause I don’t have anything until the meet and greet tomorrow, then when he has to go I think me, Ranboo and Fundy might be going to mess with dream george and sapnap during the dream team panel. What’s you first panel about?”

You glanced back down at your laptop, “It’s listed as ‘small creators with a big part’”

From the kitchen you heard Phil chuckle.

“Oh cool.” Tubbo smiled, turning back to his show.

You looked back down at your laptop, reading over the possible sample questions and discussion topics, you wanted to be mentally prepared for this.

At some point, as the rest of the house began to stir Alex shuffled out from the hallway and plopped down in between you and Tubbo on the couch, throwing his legs up in your lap.

“Good morning.”

He groaned, “Why is it so early?”

“It isn’t,” you laughed, flicking at his forehead, “Your just jet lagged.”

“Is there coffee here?”

As if on cue Nick, who had come over from the kitchen, offered him a mug, “Phil made a big ass pot of it.”

“Oh thank fuck!” He took the cup greatfully.

Nick smiled, handing you the other mug before going back for his own as Karl flounced into the room and plopped down on the other couch, “Good morning!”

“Morning Karl!” You smiled.

“oooo, are we watching cake wars?” He asked excitedly.

Tubbo nodded and launched into an explanation of what had happened so far in the episode.

Eventually everyone woke up and was gathered around in the living room and kitchen, drinking coffee and tea as they planned for the day.

“Well if most of us have different things planned why don’t we just plan to meet back up here before dinner?” Niki suggested.

A half asleep Wilbur nodded, “Sounds like a good idea.”

Techno snickered at his grogginess, elbowing him lightly, “I guess the first panel really will be sleepy boys inc.”

If Wilbur had been fully awake he probably would’ve elbowed him back, but instead just muttered, “Shut up.”

“Okay! So we meet back here for six yeah?” Bad asked.

Everyone nodded, and disappeared back to their various places around the house to get ready.

Back in your room you put your laptop away and got the last of your things ready for the panel, even though it wasn’t starting for a few hours.

“(Y/n)! Your panel’s at 12 right?” Nick half yelled through the open bathroom doors.

“Yeah?”

“Okay cool, do you wanna come with me, Alex and Karl? Apparently Jimmy and all them just got in.”

“Sure.”

You had talked to the famed, ‘Mr. Beast’, a few times, and had even been in one or two of his gaming videos, so before you knew it Alex was stealing the keys to one of the rental cars and you were off.

“Yeah we just left the airbnb.” Karl, said into his phone. There was a pause before he said, “Oof, I’m glad I came out early then.” Another pause and then he laughed, “Nimrods. We can stop for food if you want?”

A few minutes later he ended the call, leaning up between the front seats, “The gang requires food, we’re taking a pit stop to taco bell.”

“Taco bell? At 9 in the morning?” Alex questioned.

“Yeah apparently the nimrods forgot to get food before they left the airport, and now their stuck in traffic. We’re gonna meet them at the hotel.”

You chuckled, “Sounds like a Jimmy move. Let me guess, they forgot because none of them slept and they took a red eye?”

“What the fuck is a red eye?”

You looked back at Nick, incredulous, “You don’t know what a red eye is? Oh my god you privileged fool!”

Alex snorted, “It’s a really early flight Nick. Like, a you get to the airport for 11pm, and end up eating breakfast when you get to the other airport, flight.”

“Or, a get to the airport for anytime between 11pm and 4am and regret your life choices while waiting for your plane.” You offered.

“In other words, hell.” Alex finished, pulling into a drive thru.

“Yikes, why would anyone do that?” Nick asked.

“It’s cheap.” Karl said.

“Planes are less crowded, so are the airports.” Alex added.

You smiled, “I do it for the feeling of a lineal space. There's no vibes like airports from 11pm to 4am.”

They all laughed, and Karl quickly unrolled his window to order an ungodly amount of food.

Unsurprisingly, after that the day passed in a blur, the panel going pretty well, and then the impromptu meet and greet outside the meeting hall, trying to make it through the convention center with Clay and Nick without being mobbed, and then suddenly everyone was back at the airbnb getting ready for dinner.

“(y/n) you bitch why are you taking so long in there!” Tommy yelled through the bathroom door.

“I’m trying to fix my hair from when you threw water at me prick! There's five other bathrooms in this house go find another one!” You yelled back.

Distantly you could hear Bad yell, “Language!”

“Everyone is in the other bathrooms!”

Giving up on your hair you set the brush back down and recapped the container of paste, turning and opening the door to your room, “Alright, fine.”

“That wasn’t that hard was it?” Tommy asked, moving past you into the bathroom.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” You instructed, striding out of the room and down the hall.

Out in the living room Eret was humming as they cleaned up the last of the later Tommy had gotten everywhere as the rest of the group started to assemble.

Once everyone was finally ready, and the final arguments of who would take which car, you were shoved into the back of one of the vans with Karl and Alex, making all of the anxiety that had dissipated after the panel came flooding back, especially when Nick, who was sitting on the bench seat in front of you, turned to join the conversation.

The night was spent trying to keep blush off your face whenever Karl’s knuckles brushed yours, when Nick’s arm found it’s way around the back of your chair, or when your and Alex’s knees bumped.

‘God’, you had thought, ‘this is like some romcom shit.’

After Tommy’s fail attempt to steal a set of car keys and try and drive home -Phil smacked him upside the head, Niki snatched the keys from his hand, Kristen started to lecture him, all while the rest of you laughed your asses off- The bill was paid, and everyone piled back up into the cars, already starting to plan a movie night.

Upon getting back to the airbnb, you headed back to your room to change back into the hoodie and comfortable pants you had been wearing earlier, heading back into the living room in time to steal Punz’s seat on the couch with Nick and Karl.

When Alex squeezed into the spot between you and Nick, you could’ve sworn you saw Techno smirking and Puffy waggling her eyebrows toward you, how they found out about your stupid group crush you had no clue, but then Clay and Skeppy started to argue over what movie to put on.

Tubbo ended up taking the remote from Clay, and from where he was sitting In front of one of the couches, tossed it over to Phil on the other side of the room, who said, “We’ll do a vote then!”

A movie was selected democratically, some cheesy action movie began to play, and at some point you half turned, propping your legs up across the boys laps as Alex maintained a running commentary on the movie, just loud enough for you and Nick to hear, and Karl absently traced small shapes into your ankles.

The second day of vidcon was the most hectic, with you, Nick and Alex were going to watch the Mr. Beast panel Karl got to be a part of, plus both the dream smp panel and the meet and greet later in the day.

You had woken up to Karl and Alex jumping on top of you, “Wake up! You’re gonna be late!”

You groaned, struggling to shove them off, “What time is it?”

“8:27.” Alex said, sliding off your bed.

“Fuck,” You muttered, “Get off me, what the hell happened to my alarm?”

“You left your phone in the other room, when it went off it woke us up.” Karl explained.

“He means it woke him up and he felt the need to wake me up,” Alex complained as you sat up now free of the people laying on you, “Why the hell is your alarm set so early?”

“It’s not early, I just wanted to be able to get ready without being in anyone’s way.”

Karl nodded, “Makes sense.”

“C’mon, let’s give them time to get ready.” Alex grabbed Karl’s arm, half dragging him out of the room.

You quickly got ready, pulling on a nicer button down, plus a jacket that was one of the first from your new merch line.

You finished your hair, plugged in your phone and headed out to the kitchen where Fundy seemed to be attempting to make pancakes, dragging Karl into the process as well.

You sat down next to Alex and Ranboo, “How long do you think until they burn the house down?”

“I am not going to burn the house!” Fundy exclaimed.

You reached over and turned down the heat on the griddle, “Well you were gonna burn something.”

Ranboo snickered, “They aren’t wrong.”

“Shut up Ranboob!” Fundy retorted.

They continued to bicker as Tubbo emerged from up stairs, shoving Fundy out of the way to take over the griddle. “You’re all ridiculous.” He muttered.

“Yeah no shit.” You sighed.

“Language!” Bad yelled from the dining room.

“French!” Eret called back as she entered the kitchen, “Morning guys!”

“Morning!” Tuboo chirped, starting to flip some of the pancakes.

“It’s panel day!” Tommy yelled, charging down the stairs, “Those best be chocolate chip Tubbo!”

Karl held up the bag of chocolate chips he been scattering into some of the pancakes, and Tommy grinned, “Karl my man!”

Once breakfast was eaten and the dishes cleared everyone loaded back up into the cars to head to the convention center, everyone splitting up again, planning to meet back in the right area in time for the full panel.

Karl headed off to meat with Jimmy and the guys as You Alex and Nick took spots in the audience.

Once they took to the stage Nick leaned over and elbowed Alex, “Bet you 10 bucks when they open for questions you don’t go up just to flirt with Karl.”

Alex glared at him, “10 bucks isn’t worth it.”

You held back a laugh, “I’d throw in another 20.”

Alex considered this with a sigh, “Deal, but only if we get milkshakes later.”

You and Nick agreed, and soon enough when they opened up for audience questions Alex started to stand up, but immediately sat back down blushing slightly, “No.”

“Damn.” Nick sighed. “We’re still getting milkshakes.”

Once the Mr. Beast panel had ended you all went to meet up with Karl and head off to the dream smp panel.

2 o'clock rolled around and the panel moderator began to announce everyone, one by one, and you managed to force down your anxiety, taking your place on the stage between Karl and Nick when the mod called, “(y/s/n), one of the first people to actually join the dream smp.”

You sat down, smiling at the audience and quickly sneaking out your phone to take a quick video of your friends and then a pan of the crowd to put on twitter later.

Once everyone was on stage the moderator looked up and down the long table, “Wow, there are a lot of people on stage right now, is this everyone from the server?”

Clay nodded, “Just about, we have a few others, Alyssa, Callahan, Ponk and Antfrost, who had other stuff going on, but for the most part, this is everyone from the server.”

“This is honestly incredible, how, how are you guys all feeling about being here? I know this is the first Dream SMP panel, but you guys have been to vidcon before right?”

“Most of us,” George laughed, “I think the only one who hasn’t is (y/s/n), there first ever panel was yesterday.”

The mod looked over at you, “So, how does it feel to be at your first vidcon?”

You laughed nervously, “Well, I mean, I’ve been to vid con before, but I was always out there in the audience, it’s- it’s pretty nerve wracking to be up here.”

The topic shifted and after that things seemed to move more quickly.

In the blink of an eye the first hour and a half was spent and people from the audience began to ask questions.

“Wilbur, as the main writer for roleplaying on the server is it hard to keep track of character specifics and story arcs or is it all just written in with the scripts?”

Someone asked.Wilbur hummed, “Well I guess in part it’s written in the scripts, but I think I should turn this question over to (y/s/n), they’ll have a more interesting answer.”

Everyone turned to you.

“Well, in my mind it isn’t all that hard, but I am literally the kid who memorized long monologues for fun.” You chuckled, “Once the first revolution arc started and the server really started to turn to roleplaying I started a google doc that now gets updated constantly. I have running tabs on current arcs, details on arcs that have ended and then there's detailed character descriptions.

“I don’t necessarily write down bits to add while I’m streaming or anything, but most of the time it has to be the middle of the night or I won’t file anything correctly.”

Nick chuckled, “I have seen the document, it is terrifying.”

“Didn’t someone open it to see you updating in the middle of the night once?” Ranboo asked.

Alex nodded, “Yeah that was me, it was very traumatic, like, I blinked, and then there was another fifty words on the page.”

You dropped your head in your hands, “It was the night after the whole election thing! Techno joined the server and then I had to add a whole ‘nother character profile, and he and his stupid English major were making things complicated!”

“Listen man, I just wanted to make sure I had a backstory that fit into the story line, ‘s not my fault when Wilbur lets Dream have partial control of thing the storyline ends up non cohesive.”

People laughed, and the topic was changed with the next question.

Two and a half hours later, an extra hour after the panel was supposed to end, (there was just so many extra questions), you headed off stage, and were all rushed across the center for the meet and greet, which had been pushed back in time with the panel.

You felt bad for making the fans wait, but the organizers assured you that it was fine, most of the fans had been at the panel anyway.

In the big open hall the orginizors spilt everyone up into groups of threes and fours, the way fans could move down the line and see everyone.

Inevitably you ended up with Karl, Nick and Alex, at the end of the long sections of people.

“Holy shit man, how is it already 6?” Alex asked.

“Who knows.” Nick muttered glancing down at his phone.

“Dude this is supposed to go for like three hours too.” You complained, rocking up on your heals to look down the line, seeing the first groups of people starting to move past Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy.

“We’ll be fine! It’s always fun to meet fans!” Karl said, though he did look slightly wary.

After another three hours of talking to fans, signing things, and taking pictures the last group of people finally made it to your section.

“Hey! They saved the coolest for last!” The boy exclaimed.

“Hell yeah they did!” Alex half yelled back, some how still managing to keep up the enthusiasm.

“Here, let’s get you guys all in a picture together!” His mother said, motioning for you to all stand together. You slung an arm around the kids shoulder, smiling at the camera. “

“Okay serious question time, which one of us is the best?”

“Uhh,” the boy looked from person to person, “probably you (y/s/n), your contents really cool but your under rated.”

You grinned, offering him a fist bump, “ha! See that’s the third person in the last hour!”

Karl scoffed, “but I got like six people over all.”

“I only got five.” Alex pouted.

You rolled your eyes as the boy asked, “So if you guys are in a poly relationship on the server does it create problems with your friendship in real life?”

You all froze, except for Nick who somehow seemed to know this was coming, “Well, in game and out of game relationships are different, sure you can ship all you want, but that doesn’t mean stuff actually happens in real life.”

The kid nodded, “Cool, hey I saw your stream like, during quesrentine, just a question, how many people have tried to fight you today?”

You laughed, “at least 15 took pictures with him squared up.”

A few minutes more and the kid was gone, being ushered away by his mom, and you glanced at your phone, “holy shit it’s already 9:15.”

“Where did the time go?” Kale asked incredulous.

After meeting back up with the rest of the group you all headed off to terrorize a McDonald’s, drawing a lot of attention from random fans as you all scarfed down food.

By the time you got back to the Airbnb it was nearly 11pm and everyone was exhausted.

After quickly getting ready for bed you a collapsed.

The next morning you woke up, and for a moment worth your eyes still closed you were perfectly content with the warmth pressed agasint you.

Then you came fully too, realizing that, no, you weren’t fully swaddled in your comforter, you were laying in a bed with other people.

Opening your eyes you blinked away sleep, looking down, confused to see Alex asleep with his head on your chest.

Turning your head you saw that it was Nick on your other side an arm wrapped around you both.

Karl was half sprawled across all of you, similarly to the airport, as if he could hold all of you at once. You sat in shock for several moments before realizing you were in fact, trapped in bed.

Alex’s fingers were tangled with yours, Nicks nose was pressed into your neck, and you could have sworn Karl shifted in his sleep, as if to get closer to you.

‘Well,’ you thought, ‘might as well make the most of it.’ As settled back down to fall back asleep.

Once you had all woke again, no one spoke as they headed back to there own rooms, and your crossed back through the bathroom form Nicks.

The rest of the day past, still no one speaking about it, and that night you found yourself laying in your own bed, wondering why it felt so wrong.

There was muffled whispers from Nicks room, and you quietly got up, moving into the bathroom to hear better.

Unfortunately for you Nicks door to the bathroom was still open, so you couldn’t eavesdrop as planned.

Karl and Alex were both sat on the bed next to each other as Nick paced. “What’s going on?” You asked quietly

“Would- would it be weird if we cuddled again?” Alex asked hesitantly.

“We were debating asking you.” Karl admitted.

Nick nodded, “You don’t have to, it’s just- we-“

Quietly you crossed the room, climbing into the bed instead of answering the question outright.

“Is- I- am I stupid, or is this something?” Alex whispered.

Vidcon had ended and even with the long weekend everyone was staying in California the time had gone all to fast.

You, Alex, Karl and Nick had continued to cuddle every night, still not talking about it during the day.

“Do you think it could be?” Was your only response, continuing to card your fingers through Karl’s hair.

“It seems like it already is.” Nick said.

Karl yawned, “I think I’d like it to be.You nodded,

“me too.”

“Me too.” Nick agreed.

Alex smiled, “I guess it’s decided then.”

The dark room was quiet another moment before you snickered, “It’s cannon irl now guys. What will the fans think?”

#mcyt x reader #karl jacobs x reader #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs imagines #sapnap x reader #teddy06 writes #quackity x reader #Quackity imagines #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #sapnap x quackity x karl x reader #poly

3K notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

Text

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

448 notes · View notes

nsheetee · 4 years ago

Text

One Foot in the Golden Life

Pairing: rich kid!renjun x caddie!reader Genre: rich kid AU, university au, romance, slight angst, mature content Length: 9.7k Summary: this is the story of a boy who is constantly pushed down by his father, a girl who just wants to not live paycheck to paycheck, and how they met on a golf course. Warnings/Details: includes mentions of other NCT members, female reader, swearing, inaccurate depiction of golf, acts of sexual harassment towards the reader, mature content (unprotected sex, coming inside, oral [female receiving])

a/n: a big thank you to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ♡ also, if you are a minor, please beware that there is mature content in this fic!

You thought it would be the perfect opportunity to work at the most well-known country club in the state, but really the only thing your job brought you was perpetual cold to your hands and feet, and entangled your simple life with one of the youngest and richest bachelors at your university.

The only place on top of Mt. Carla is the Augusta Country Club, and it is a sight to see by the regular people who gaze up at it from the city below, like mortals looking up into the Gods’ chamber. The first time you went up the mountain for your job interview at the club, you got lost and were almost late. Thankfully, you didn’t crash your car on the winding roads, and got the job as well.

The Augusta Country Club is equipped with the largest and most expensive golf course in the region, but also has Michilin approved restaurants and the finest saunas and gym equipment any CEO could ask for. Those are usually the type of people that have club memberships: CEO’s, congress men and women, top-notch lawyers, and maybe the odd business owner that made it big enough to afford the price tag.

When you took up the job as a caddie, you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. You’ve only been working for a month, but there are already a few regular golf players that prefer you as their caddie, which in your book is a success considering the type of high profile people that come to relax here.

However, today is different.

You can sense it when Kara and Mina, your coworkers who have been working here for a year longer than you, walk towards you and your friend, Lia, before your shift today. Mina has a small stack of info cards in her hands and they both hold smug smiles on their faces. The info cards have everything a caddie needs to know about who they’ll be working for that shift, and by the looks of it, today’s game will have a good match up.

“I’m going to be Mr. Huang’s son’s caddie. Don’t even fight me on this, you know I’ll win.” Kara states boldly as the two girls stop in front of you, snatching an info card out of Mina’s hand when she holds them up like she’s playing a card game, flashing the photos and names on the cards at you.

“I call dibs on Mr. Lee’s son.” Mina hums, not even bothering to keep up the act that they just want to be good caddies. “You two can have the old men.” She smiles tightly, shoving the other two info cards into Lia’s grasp and turning on her heel to walk away with Kara.

Considering you don’t even know what they’re talking about, you have no right to be mad at them. There is more confusion clouding your mind than anger at their rudeness. However, Lia does not share the same sentiment.

“I’ll shove these info cards up their-” Lia fumes, her volume rising as the sentence went on, and you quickly pulled her out of ear shot, around a corner by the bathrooms. “-stuck up two faced asses!”

“Lia…” You mutter, her wording making you shake your head at how unstable her temper is, “They’ve been working here for a lot longer than we have, just let them have those clients. Either way, what’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? ___, they’re talking about Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun. I know I told you about them before.” Lia states like she expects you to have those two names tattooed on the front lobe of your brain already.

“I think I remember them…. They go to our University, right?” You try to regurgitate your friend’s rambles from months ago out of your head.

“Yeah, business department.” She sighs dreamily, as if the business department is the sexiest thing on campus. “This might be our only chance to shoot our shot.” You can’t help but grimace a bit.

“It can be your chance to shoot your shot. Leave me out of this.” You randomly grab an info card out of Lia’s hands, turning it around to see Mr. Huang Lijun’s photo staring back at you. You send Lia one last look, walking around her to go change in the dressing rooms.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” You hear her whine, her footsteps echo through the hallway as she comes up behind you. She almost knocks you into the wall from how forcefully she grabs onto your arm and swings it back and forth like you’re two little kids on your way to the playground.

“Maybe we can shoot our shot at the old men?” You and Lia stop walking, turning to face each other for a moment of silence. You blink at each other as if you’re both considering it, before erupting into laughter at the ridiculous thought and continue walking down the hallway.

You and Lia constantly joke around about finding rich sugar daddies at work to pay for your college tuition, but both of you know you’ll never actually commit to the idea fully. Neither of you will admit it, but you both know you don’t have the guts to do something like that.

By the time you, Lia, and your other coworkers change into uniform and gather your supplies for the Lee vs. Huang game, it’s already 10am. The air is crisp and cool, the signs of fall creep along your skin and taint the deep green trees in light oranges and yellows.

Despite the chill, you and your coworkers still wear skirts, long sleeve v-necks, and puffy vests; the only thing keeping your feet warm is a pair of short white socks and tennis shoes. You don’t mind the chill knowing that once the game starts you’ll be moving around enough to get warm. You stop thinking about your cold toes as soon as the door of the country club opens and the Lees and Huangs walk out.

The first time you lay eyes on Huang Renjun, you think your heart might stop.

You know it’s him because he walks close to his father as they make their way to where you’re standing by the golf carts. He has obviously dyed blonde color, his dark roots proof of that; it’s neatly gelled back in an effortless way with the light wind blowing a few of the locks gently as if an angel is personally moving them for him. His white jacket and black pants are slim and look like they cost more than all of your college textbooks this semester. He walks with his head high, his pretty, pink lips set in a straight line, and his almond eyes gentle.

Okay, so... maybe you understand the hype now.

“Good evening, ladies.” Mr. Lee announces, looking at you and your coworkers. You all politely introduce yourself and state who you’ll be caddying for.

Huang Lijun isn’t as tall as his son, but he looks to be more lively than Renjun, even at his age. He has a permanent smile on his lips and you can feel a friendly demeanor radiating from him when you approach.

“Good Morning, sir. Let me take those off of your hands.” You politely grab the bag of clubs from him, feeling shy as his gaze doesn’t leave your face the entire time.

“You’re new here, right? I feel like I would remember you if I saw you before.” You’re surprised when he suddenly pinches your cheek, and he laughs at your shocked face. An unsettled feeling plants itself at the bottom of your stomach at the unwarranted touch.

“I’ve only been working here for a month, sir.”

“I think I’ll be coming around here more often, then.” He winks at you and turns to go sit in the front seat of the golf cart. You can’t help but let the feeling at the bottom of your stomach grow at how the older man looks at you. You definitely misjudged his “friendly” demeanor. Your eyes can’t help but glance at Renjun, who’s standing a few feet away from the whole interaction. He gives you a blank stare before turning and following his father.

In the past few weeks, you had gotten many lustful smiles and lewd gazes at your bare legs, but also many dollars in tips just in one morning by letting those smiles and gazes happen. The need to make ends meet justifies it all, and the cash you earn at the end of every shift only fuels this need.

The ride from the club’s main building to the first hole is short, so you quickly recompose yourself. You still have a job to do— a job you’re being paid lots of money for. You believe in your strong will to put up with whatever antics Mr. Huang pulls for the next few hours. Upon arrival at the first hole, you pull the bag of golf clubs out of the cart and follow in Mr. Huang’s quick footsteps, suddenly feeling sweaty from the exercise you’re getting by carrying these heavy clubs. When your group reaches the first hole, you set the bag down on the ground and press your hand over your face, but Mr. Huang’s voice startles you.

“Woah, there.” You jump and face him. “Those clubs cost more than my car, and unlike my car, they don’t deserve to be on the ground, darling.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize.” You smile shyly and pick up the clubs from the ground, your shoulders already straining to keep them up. ‘They weigh as much as a car,’ you huff.

This is going to be a long game.

“You kids can clean the carts today,” Mina suddenly throws a keychain at Lia’s face, she barely catches it before it hits her, “I have plans.”

“Me, too.” Kara quickly says, following after Mina as they both walk away. The game ended right at lunchtime (the Lees won) and now you and your coworkers are back at the club. It’s supposed to be everyone’s job to clean the golf carts after they’ve been used, but it looks like today it’ll just be you and Lia… Maybe.

“___, please. I’m going to be late to the cafe, my boss there is already mad at me.” Lia turns to you and begs with her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes pleading and feet bouncing. You sigh; you’re hungry and your muscles are sore, and all you want to do is go home as quickly as you can. Still, you roll your eyes and take the golf cart keys from her, making her face crack open into a smile as she hugs you quickly.

“I’ll bring you coffee on Monday!” She screams at you as she practically runs away, leaving you with two golf carts to clean. You sluggishly begin, crawling into the cart the Huangs were sitting in when you find a small notebook laying on one of the seats. Picking it up to examine it, you find out it’s your university’s yearly planner, a book that everyone gets at the beginning of every academic year. Along the binder reads “Huang Renjun” and your eyes widen, immediately looking up to glance at the direction that Renjun walked off to a while ago.

Your legs move quickly through the corridors of the club, moving past changing rooms, saunas, and bathrooms, the planner tightly clutched in your hand. Your head is on a swivel and your lower lip is stuck between your teeth, until you hear a door open and slam shut behind you, making you turn your head to catch Renjun walking out of a changing room.

“Mr. Huang!” You call out.. Renjun freezes at the name, spinning on his heel to see you walking towards him.

“Sorry to disturb you, but you left your planner on the golf cart.” You hold it out for him, but he doesn’t take it.

“How do you know it’s a planner? Did you look through it?” You blink at him, stunned, and then glance down at the notebook. You’re surprised by the sudden questions and at the same time annoyed that Renjun accused you of snooping through his things so quickly. The image you had of him earlier, graceful, classy, and attractive, slips out of your mind as he stares down at you. However, this is the first time he’s directly talking to you, and you can’t help the spark that ignites in your belly from the roughness in his voice. It’s higher-pitched, but unpolished and jagged as he speaks with you.

“No. I go to the same University. I have the same one.” You explain. Renjun’s stare turns into shock.

“Really? Which department?”

“Fine Arts. I study Studio Art.” At first you think that you’re seeing things, but after blinking, you can guarantee that Renjun has jealousy painted on his face. It’s so sour that he looks away, trying to preoccupy his hands by fiddling with his bag. “So, are you going to take this, or…?”

“Yeah,” The bitterness drips from his tone, but you have a feeling it’s not directed at you, “Thank you for returning it.” He finally accepts it and turns to his bag, taking out his wallet. The cards inside look thick and heavy; memberships to places you’ll never step foot in and credit cards with limits you could never even imagine. Your pride tells you that you don’t need anything he could give you, so you silently turn around and walk away.

Renjun shuffles through some crisp 10’s and 20’s, but when he looks up to give you the tip, you’re already down the hallway and halfway out the door. You have golf carts to clean.

The next time you see Renjun is a week after the last game. The chilly weather remains, along with the useless uniform you have to wear, but this time around you’re not Mr. Huang’s caddie, you’re Renjun’s.

Kara walks next to you with Mr. Huang’s heavy golf clubs, her lips straight and head turned away from you to show her annoyance at how the caddie match up situation went this week. You’re sure to get an earful about this for at least the next few days, but you kind of like this revenge that fate dealt Kara. Either way, it’s not like there’s anything you can do about the match up. Renjun requested you to be his caddie this week, and you weren’t going to risk your bosses being angry with you by denying the request.

“Driver.” Renjun’s voice pulls you into the game. You pull out the correct golf club and put it into his awaiting hand, your fingertips brushing with his. “Aren’t you cold?” The words shock you, considering they’re the first words Renjun spoke to you today other than commands for golf clubs.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Huang.” You respond promptly.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy, and he quickly realizes how unnecessary it is to bite at you like that, “Just call me Renjun.” His father walks back from his shot, looking very smug. Renjun’s face is calm as he trades spots with his father and prepares for his first swing of the day, correcting his posture and loosening his limbs.

You remember the first time you saw him, how elegant and poised he looked. Your cold hands break into a sweat as your chest heats up from the quick beating of your heart. Renjun has only been icy and accusing towards you so far, yet you still feel warm while thinking about him. There has to be something wrong with you.

“Doesn’t my son look like he knows what he’s doing?” Mr. Huang asks from beside you, a small, unnerving smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir.” You reply back with your own, more innocent, smile.

“I taught him everything he knows about golf…. And women.” Mr. Huang leans into you, turning his chest to face you so that his breath is hitting your cheek. You can’t help but swallow to relieve your dry and cold throat, keeping your eyes forward as Renjun swings his club back and forth a bit in preparation.

“Yes, sir.” The only thought on your mind is to stop this man from stepping closer.

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

Renjun swings his arm back, breathing in as he keeps his eyes on the small white ball and his hopes in the green before him. Mr. Huang’s right hand is warm on your waist, but you would give anything to freeze right now.

A sharp crack ripples through the air as Renjun hits the golf ball and sends it flying into the golf course. His eyes are not where the ball lands, but instead on where his father touches you.

Renjun’s mom died when he was not even three days old.

He never got to meet her— to lay on her chest and hold her finger with his whole hand. He’ll never know what advice she would’ve given him when he got his first girlfriend, and he’ll never know how she would’ve reacted to him crashing his first car when he was 17. He only knows that his mom would’ve been there for him through all of that, unlike his father, who was not.

Renjun has had “mothers” through his life; three, to be exact. The first was when he was 5 years old, and she quickly asked for a divorce after Renjun’s dad went on a three month business trip and she didn’t hear from him the whole time. The second “mother” was a bit more mature than the first and with a lot more time on her hands. She wanted to shape 9 year old Renjun into a perfect student, which was something Renjun’s father appreciated, but still divorced her for “being too strong-headed.” Renjun only met his third mother twice when he was 13: once at the wedding and the second time at her funeral. He didn’t ask any questions, he wasn’t very interested in the first place.

These were the type of people Renjun spent his life around, but they really weren’t his mothers. The only similarity he had with those women was his father, and he treated them as poorly as he treated Renjun. That’s why when Renjun looks at you, cowering away from the very man who is his only link to family, he feels sick.

When is his dad going to stop being a fucking predator? How young does he want his next conquest to be? Will Renjun’s next mom be the same age as him? Something swirls in the pit of his stomach when he watches his father and it takes a moment for him to figure out what it is: jealousy. He’s not sure why he’s feeling jealous over someone he just met last week, but the feeling engulfs his whole chest and it burns him to his spot.

Renjun doesn’t even notice that he swung his golf club or that the golf ball went somewhere far into the green, probably an overshot. He only sees you, afraid of the man touching you but not stepping away. Why aren’t you stepping away?

“Nice job, Renjun.” His best friend, Jeno, claps a hand on his back as he steps up, hitting Renjun back into reality and forcing him to walk towards you. As Renjun approaches, his father slyly takes his hand away, and Renjun notices how you let out a relieved sigh. Giving you back his driver, Renjun strategically stands between you and his father, pretending to watch Jeno swing.

“Good job… Renjun.” You whisper, unsure about calling him by his first name so informally.

“Thank you.” Renjun sends a side glance to his father to see the displeased look on his face. “How was that, Dad?” Renjun hopes that maybe he can remind his father of why he’s here (to win against the Lees this week, not to feel up a girl 30 years younger than him) but in this moment, his father is acting like a 5 year old in the middle of a silent tantrum, not a 50 year old who runs the most successful construction company in the country.

“I’ve taught you better than that.” Renjun is sure they’re not talking about golf anymore, the authoritative tone in his father’s voice sends a lightning bolt of surprise and slight fear down Renjun’s back. He hates how he gets scared, he hates how his father can control him. The fury churns in the pit of his stomach as he accepts his father’s words with a bow of his head.

One day, Renjun swears he won’t submit anymore.

After the game ended with the Lees winning once again, you, Lia, and your other coworkers convene at the golf carts after the clients leave to change inside the club.

“You ladies know the drill.” Kara throws both sets of golf cart keys at you before walking off with Mina. You push Lia towards the entrance of the building before she even has a chance to turn around and open her mouth.

“You should get to the cafe before your boss throws another fit.” Lia turns back to face you, her jaw slightly slack and her eyes shining.

“You’re seriously the best. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few extra shots in my coffee on Monday.” Lia laughs at that, grabbing your face between her two small, manicured hands and kissing you on each cheek before hopping off inside. You can’t help but be amused at her antics, turning to the golf carts in front of you to start cleaning.

“They make you clean the carts by yourself?” The voice startles you, not because you weren’t expecting it but because it’s Renjun’s. You turn your head over your shoulder, he’s standing just a few feet away still in his golfing gear from earlier.

“Uh, not usually, no. But my coworkers haven’t been happy with me lately.” You explain, fully turning to him and crossing your arms over your chest to tuck your cold hands into your sides.

“The ones who have been working here for a while?” You nod as an answer, and Renjun nods back in understanding, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “They’ve been trying to get with me and my best friend for a while...” Renjun trails off when he sees your eyebrows raise at the comment, “... But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh? What are you here for?” The conversation has gotten too informal for a worker and their client to be having, but you kind of like talking to Renjun in this casual setting.

“I realized that the past few times we’ve talked I’ve been such a dick.” He laughs lightly as he remembers, “I wanted to apologize for that. I wasn’t in a good mood last week and this morning, and I ended up pushing it on you.”

Renjun feels lots of emotions when it comes to you, despite only having this one proper conversation with you. He feels envy towards you for being able to study something that he desperately wants to. He feels guilt when he remembers how quickly he made you into a thief when you were only trying to return his belongings, and he feels so many other secondary and tertiary emotions in between. His head is full when he looks at you. He finally feels like he’s thinking about something, not just doing the same day to day motions in a constant cycle of ‘when will this end?’

“You’re apologizing?” You ask, stunned when he nods his head in confirmation. Sincere apologies are important to you. You believe there are not enough of them in this world anymore, and his gentle almond eyes are too wholehearted and warm for you in this cold weather. Your heart feels full looking at him, and you curse at yourself in your head for being swayed like this.

“I also have a question… You mentioned you’re majoring in Studio Art and I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me into one of the studios after a class this week? I’ve been needing a quiet place to work since my house has been busy lately.” One of the hands that was in Renjun’s pocket moves to matte down his sideburns while he glances at his shoes. “Was that too forward? Sorry, I just know that you can’t get into a studio without a passcode and you’re the only person I know who’s in Studio Art.” Renjun explains after you stare for a while, blinking at him.

“You’re an artist?” You finally ask, Renjun giving you a weak ‘yeah’ in response. A part of you wants to say no, that it’ll be weird to do something like this for him when you’ve only known him for less than 2 weeks and up until this point, you’ve only been in a worker-client relationship. However, you’re curious about what he’s like outside of this setting, especially what he’s like when his father has no possibility of appearing, since that seems to be the factor that turns his mood up or down.

“Sure. Come by studio 3 after 6pm on Wednesday and I’ll let you in, but... I heard Mr. Lee already scheduled a game for next weekend?” Renjun nods, “Then in return, you can win that game. It’s embarrassing always being on the losing team.” You smile playfully at the end to let him know you’re only joking.

“Deal.” Renjun sends a smile back of the same caliber, holding out a hand to shake with yours. If you thought you were affected by Renjun’s nice presence, his hand in yours sends you into another realm. His touch is warm from staying indoors and from keeping his hands in his pockets, and they contrast to your cold skin. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your hands connect, turning your hand in his grip to look at your knuckles. “Are you sure you’re not cold? Your hands are freezing.”

“I’ll be okay. I just don’t have any good gloves to wear while working.” He huffs, small traces of white smoke leaves his mouth as he digs through his pockets.

“Wear these.” He replaces his hand in yours with a pair of his own gloves, “Your hands are precious, they shouldn’t be freezing.” Before Renjun can get embarrassed by his own words, he shoves his hands back into his pockets and turns on his heel, walking away, “I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

A knock on the studio doors shakes you away from staring at your painting, making you turn to look at who it is. Renjun peaks through the small window and waves when you make eye contact. You get up to open the door, almost forgetting that today is the day you agreed to let Renjun into your studio.

… Okay, that’s a lie. You definitely remembered that you’re supposed to meet Renjun, but you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re not excited about seeing him outside of that stuffy country club.

“Hey, sorry if I startled you.” Is the first thing he says when you open the door. He’s dressed in slacks, a dress shirt with a sweater over it, and a long coat over that. His nose and cheeks are slightly red from the rough wind outside and his supplies are clutched to his chest.

“Oh, you’re fine. I was just deep in thought.” Something about the studio makes both of you speak in hushed tones. No one else is here, but you feel the need to maintain the peace and quiet the room naturally holds. You and Renjun make your way to where you’re set up, he puts his things down on an easel to your left and takes off his coat, watching you from his peripheral vision.

Those uniforms they make you wear at work are just for show, Renjun knows that well, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating you in the tight vest and little skirt. However right now, he likes your laid back look consisting of loose jeans and a layered shirt, he thinks it matches you.

“I was going to leave when you got here, but I think I’ll just finish this and head out.” You comment, aimlessly waving at your project.

“Please, stay as long as you need to. This is your studio, I don’t want to kick you out.” He laughs and licks his bottom lip. It’s breathtaking how innocent and nice his smile looks on his face. His eyes scrunch together to form laugh lines and his cheeks rise, he truly looks pretty when he smiles. You think this is the first time you’ve seen him like this.

You mumble back with a mixture of words that probably didn’t make sense and turn back to your work, leaving the room to continue with its peacefulness and quiet. However, Renjun’s presence next to you is too big to ignore. There are so many things you want to know about him and you have no excuse as to why you’re so curious.

“How about a game while we work?” You suggest.

“Sure… How about 20 questions?” It’s like he read your mind, so you smile and nod at his idea.

“You can go first.” You suggest.

“Okay, uh… Why do you work at a golf course if you’re majoring in Studio Art? Shouldn’t you be working at a, I don’t know, museum?” The question catches you off guard and Renjun notices how you stop painting, your brush and your hand floating in the air as you think, “Oh, sorry, is that too personal?”

“No, no… It’s just, normally, the first question people ask in a game of 20 questions is something like ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘what’s your sign’.” Renjun lets out a choked and embarrassed laugh, ducking his head down to look away from you. You can tell he’s about to change his question, so you quickly go back to painting and speak before he can.

“I did apply to work at several museums. I didn’t get any jobs, so I had to look elsewhere and Augusta was hiring. I know it’s not very fitting, but it makes good money and rich people know my name, even if it’s for just a few hours.” Renjun nods at your answer as if he could ever understand the idea of being poor, but the insight into your decision brings a fact to light that Renjun wasn’t 100% aware of before: you’re not like him, you need money.

“Don’t you hate the way people look at you there?” The words tumble out of Renjun’s lips faster than he can process the weight they carry. He turns to face you with guilt pooling in his eyes and his mouth opening and closing to find some words to correct the situation.

“No, I don’t like it.” You surprise him with your quick response, “But people like you don’t understand what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, to have to worry about how to pay the bills every month for years on end, always on your toes about money. I bet you think I’m cheap and—”

“No.” Renjun cuts you off promptly before you can continue, “Don’t make me into a jerk. I’m not like that. But the fact that that is the first thing you thought of worries me.” Your eyes widen at that, prompting him to elaborate. “Doesn’t that mean that’s how you think of yourself? Maybe not on the outside, but subconsciously. Sure, I won’t ever be able to understand how you live, but I wish you would not look at yourself as cheap and think of yourself as… beautiful.” Renjun lets the last words linger on his tongue, saying it quietly as if to not startle you.

You stare at him, your paintbrush resting in your hand and your back slouched as you watch him watch you. This is not the type of conversation you thought you’d be having with Renjun tonight, but you have to admit he makes a point. Eventually, you turn to your painting and stare at it some more, making Renjun turn and continue his own work.

“Ah, I asked two questions in a row.” He suddenly breaks the tense atmosphere, making you sigh as you remember you’re just playing a game, “You can ask two questions.”

He allows and relaxes when he sees you go back to painting.

“If you like to draw, why are you a business major?” Now it’s Renjun’s turn to freeze. Maybe if he did ask what your favorite color was he wouldn’t have had to endure this question from you, but he feels like he should answer it since it’s of equal weight to the one he asked you.

“It wasn’t my choice. I will most likely take my father’s place in his company and I need to at least know the basics before that happens.” You nod slowly. He looks so calm when he’s focused on drawing, but it’s not the same calm that you see on his face when he’s playing golf. You turn away before you get caught staring.

“Is that why your mood always changes when your dad is around?”

“Is it that obvious…” He trails off and you nod, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud, but… It’s like everytime I’m around him, or at his office, or at home, my mind goes blank. I don’t feel like talking or thinking at all.” As he speaks, he sets down his utensils and turns to you, making continuous eye contact as he explains. You find yourself feeling comfortable at how easily he’s talking to you about such a deep subject.

“It sounds like… you’re angry.” You turned to face him now too, your paintbrush settled onto your canvas and your full attention on him, “My dad is like that. He gets so angry sometimes that he’s calm. No yelling or fighting, just silence. That’s how I know I messed up when he gets like that.” You nod, remembering all the times he’s been calmly mad at you.

“I don’t know… It’s confusing to me.” He straightens his back and stares at your foot as it moves around aimlessly. “What do I do?” He asks into the air, as if his pencil would suddenly start talking to him like a therapist.

“Just do what makes you happy.” Renjun’s glance over at you makes a smile pull at your lips, “I know it’s easier said than done. But you already know what it is that’ll make you happy, and that’s half of the battle. Why bottle it up?”

Renjun doesn’t know how he’ll ever get the courage to tell his father these things, but the way you’re looking at him as if he can do anything, he starts to feel tingles of confidence trickle into him.

“Oh, and why did you pick me to be your caddie this past weekend?”

“Well…” Renjun plays with his pencil. What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t want you to carry around his father’s heavy golf clubs? He doesn’t like the way his father touches you and gets jealous over it for some unknown reason? Yeah, he’s not going to say.

“Just because… I wanted you next to me.” The way he says it makes it sound so simple and true, but your heart drops to your stomach and springs back up going at 100 miles per hour. You can barely stop your hand from shaking as you pick up your brush, and it’s almost like you can’t see in front of you from the thrill of his words.

“Hey,” Renjun suddenly drops his pencil and turns to you, looking a bit confused and slightly upset, “Didn’t you ask three questions?”

“We’re letting the Lees win again today.” Renjun is in the middle of pulling up the zipper of his jacket when his father drops the news. Renjun’s footsteps stutter slightly at his father’s words and he stops walking next to the older man.

“Again?” He asks as he already thinks up an apology to tell you later when he loses.

“Yes, I need Mr. Lee to be happy when I bring up the new contract to him later in the sauna.” Renjun sighs and continues to walk next to his father. It’s the next weekend, and the third Lee vs. Huang game is starting in just a few minutes.

Renjun won’t lie, purposefully losing to his best friend and his dad every week is not the greatest stroke to Renjun’s ego, especially since Jeno won’t let it down around his other friends.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lijun swivels on his heel to look at his son, “Have you been requesting for ___ to be your caddie?”

The questions stuns Renjun, making it hard to answer so his father takes it as a yes.

“Well stop it. Dad wants to have some fun.” He claps a hand on Renjun’s back and smiles. In the past, Renjun would’ve just rolled his eyes and let his father do whatever he wants, but this time his blood boils. He feels true anger when his father struts away with the intentions of doing whatever he wants to someone Renjun cares about. He can barely move his feet after the old man, his mind cloudy as everyone makes it to the golf carts.

“Let’s have a good game today, Mr. Huang, don’t make it too easy to beat you.” Mr. Lee jokes around and the two old men laugh as they settle into their own golf carts. Renjun walks up to his cart and you wave to him, the white gloves he gave you last week snugly on your hands. Renjun thinks his anger is what spurs him into doing what he does next.

He steps close to you, leaning into your ear and wrapping his hand around your covered ones with his thumb rubbing on your exposed wrist, “Keep these on for me, babe. I don’t want you to be cold.”

The amount of jaws that drops after Renjun’s words makes him bite down his smirk and slide into the front seat of the golf cart, pretending to not see the daggers his father is throwing at him with his eyes.

Your heart beats so quickly and loudly you’re sure Kara can hear it next to you if she wasn’t busy huffing about what Renjun just did. Sitting in the back seat of the golf cart, you watch the back of Renjun’s head on the way to the first hole. What got into Renjun? Why did he all of a sudden call you ‘babe’ and get so close? Not that you’re opposed to it, you’re just shocked.

The game begins once you reach the first hole, and the Huang’s put up a good fight throughout the entire game, keeping the Lees on their toes and the score sheet even. Everytime Renjun comes back from a shot, you smile at him and tell him good job, which earns you a pat on the back from him that warms you up from the inside out.

Renjun can tell his father is getting more and more annoyed with him; how Renjun is keeping you as far from his father as he possibly can, the gentle touches on your waist that you welcome wholeheartedly compared to the ones Mr. Huang would lay on you before. He likes how angry his father gets, especially knowing that he can’t do anything about it right now. Not to mention, you seem to be enjoying Renjun’s attention, which just adds to his confidence.

Now, your group arrives at the last hole of the game. The Lees step up and swing, setting their total score to 357. All Renjun and his father have to do is move the ball around a bit more to get their score to be higher and the Lees will win the game. Mr. Huang is up first, acting clumsy so that the ball doesn’t make it into the hole and brings the game to Renjun.

As he sets up his posture, his hands suddenly go stiff. This shot is so easy to make, he has made this exact hole several times. He breathes in and out deeply, deciding on if he should throw the game like his father said he should, or give his one last ‘fuck you’ to his Dad.

He glances at you and makes eye contact; you nod your head and smile a bit as if to say ‘go ahead, we all know you can do this.’ Renjun then grips his golf club and swings it back to effortlessly hit the golf ball, rolling it along the green and perfectly into the hole.

You and the other caddies clap for the perfectly executed shot and Jeno and his father come up to Renjun to shake hands. They don’t look upset, instead they look pretty happy for Renjun. However, Renjun’s father is deathly silent, not even congratulating Renjun on his win. Renjun wasn’t expecting a whole ceremony for him, but it does feel nice to put his father down a peg or two today, and that’s the thought that fills Renjun’s head as everyone rides back to the country club.

While getting out of the golf cart, Renjun attempts to turn back to you but is promptly pulled away by the back of his jacket by his father. Renjun yelps and pulls away, but that doesn’t stop Lijun from grabbing onto his son’s arm instead and pulling him inside.

“What was that? I specifically told you to lose the game and you did the exact opposite. How am I supposed to talk to Mr. Lee now?” Renjun’s father fumes, his low voice belting out into the corridor and making some of the passing staff turn their heads.

“That’s not my problem.” Renjun shrugs and his father stops shaking, stepping closer to his son.

“Excuse me?” He asks with menace dripping from his tongue.

“I said, that’s not my problem.” Renjun is fired up. He doesn’t see a way out of this now, no way his behavior is being excused, so might as well go all in.

“You did it for that caddie, ___, right?” His father squints his eyes and turns his head slightly. When Renjun doesn’t answer, Lijun laughs in his face, “It looks like I’m right.”

“What?” Renjun asks dumbly.

“It’s okay. You’re just a boy and you can make some mistakes over a girl, we’ve all been there once or twice.” Lijun fixes Renjun’s jacket and pats his shoulder, his angry disposition turning passive. “Besides, you can’t do much for that girl anyway. Is a ball in a hole really all she deserves?”

“I won the game because I could. I won it because that’s what I wanted.” Renjun states, his blood beginning to boil once again when his father says he doesn’t deserve you. What is he thinking? Does he actually think he has a chance with you? He can keep dreaming.

“We can’t always do whatever we want. There are consequences we have to face for doing whatever we want. Are you ready to face the consequences?” At the question, Renjun is reminded about the words you told him Wednesday night.

‘Just do what makes you happy,’ Those simple words are so hard to turn into reality. Renjun wants to be happy so bad. He wants to be away from this man and he wants to be closer to you. The consequences? Sure, he’ll deal with it all if it means he can stop living in the personal hell his father set up for him. Renjun pushes his father away a bit and steps out of the trap his father pushed him into, making Lijun’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Renjun says and turns around, walking back towards the exit of the building.

“Hey, where are you going?” His father shouts after him.

“To do the thing that I want to do the most.” He yells back and walks around the corner, out of sight from his father. Renjun practically runs through the hallways to get back outside and run to you, but you surprise him by greeting him by the saunas. He stops in his steps and you smile as you walk up to him.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you did really well today. I know I said I wanted you to win last week, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” You laugh.

“Thanks.” Renjun simply says, afraid of what else could come out if he keeps talking.

“Oh, I also want to give you these back.” You dig out Renjun’s gloves from your pocket, holding them out. This is it. This is the moment Renjun will start to do whatever makes him happy, whatever he wants.

And what he wants right now is you.

He quickly takes the gloves and then tightly grips the wrist of your outstretched hand, leading you down the hallway and around some corner. He hears you exclaim a small ‘woah’ but you let him guide you into a sauna, the door closing tightly behind both of you.

There’s no one else in the room, just the stuffy steam that floats in the small space between you two. Renjun has a tight grip on the gloves you gave back to him and his other hand runs through his hair and messes up the perfect form it held.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands, looking straight into your eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me to stop right now.” He takes a step forward, his eyes full to the brim with lust and his hands shaking with how much he’s holding himself together. You’ve barely been in the room for a minute, but your clothes are already sticking to you from the intense heat.

“I don’t understand,” You reply back as he keeps moving toward you. You take small steps back in return, “I don’t know what I’m stopping you from.” Half of you is playing dumb right now; you know what Renjun wants from you just by the look in his eyes. The other half just wants to hear him say it himself

“I’ll fuck you the way you deserve. Right here, right now.” Renjun’s voice is too angelic to say such nasty words, but he growls them out like he’s a tainted angel. You’re pressed against the wooden wall of the sauna now, Renjun just a step away. You lean into him slightly and rip the gloves out of his hand to throw them to the side.

“Do it.”

It’s all the permission Renjun needs to feverishly connect his lips to yours.

The action is so sudden, you don’t remember how Renjun got close to you so quickly. Despite his forcefulness before, his lips melt into you like chocolate melting over a fire, so hot and delicious that you just want more. His hands hold the sides of your face, pushing back your hair and his body pushing you back into the wall.

He sucks on your bottom lip, softly biting afterwards and making you let out a whimper, and then a moan when his thigh pushes between your legs and further presses you against the wall. Amidst the kissing, you find the zipper of his expensive jacket, unzip it, and pull the piece of clothing off. Afterwards, you pull his shirt off and break the kiss while you’re at it.

“I’ve been thinking about you in this skirt since….” Renjun hums at the thought, his hand sliding up your bare thighs and under your skirt, then he grips your ass and brings your core down onto his thigh, the friction enough to have you letting out a strangled moan.

“Since the day I first saw you.” He finally whispers and connects your lips once again. His hand on your ass doesn’t move, his other hand is placed on your waist as he helps you ride the rough material of his pants. Renjun can only watch your reactions; the way your head lolls back into the wall and your eyes screw shut, holding onto Renjun’s shoulders tight enough he’s sure there will be marks afterwards.

“Fuck— Renjun, don’t stop, please.” He’s mesmerized, absolutely addicted to how you look and sound right now, and it’s all because of him. The thought spurs him along, he removes your jacket and you blindly help him in removing your top and bra. You must look like a mess right now, especially since you’re coming close to your climax just by Renjun’s touch and his thigh. Not to mention the sweat dripping down both of you, a glistening sheen coating your skin that makes Renjun let out a low growl before he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks and swirls his tongue, and you can’t help but moan his name again, digging your fingers into his blonde hair and tugging. Renjun moves from your chest downward, not letting an inch of your stomach and hips go past him without a kiss and a nibble, leaving you breathing heavily. He makes his way down to his knees and folds your skirt up, glancing at you from his position.

“You don’t wear anything under here except your panties?” You nod, your head stuttering as Renjun applies pressure with his thumb over your slick hole, a wet spot already there to greet him.

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby.” He groans and leans in to swipe his tongue over your center making you shake as a response. He slides your underwear down and throws it somewhere to the side, catching the sigh of your arousal dripping down your thigh. His intense stare makes you shake him, embarrassment crawling over you at how he’s not reacting.

“Are you shy?” You whine, not really answering his question. “You don’t need to be. You’re beautiful.” The softness from his voice contradicts his more dominating tone from before, but you don’t have time to think about it before he dives in. You sigh in content when the pressure in between your hips caused by Renjun turns into pure pleasure. His tongue laps at your essence and his lips suck on your clit, you can tell he’s trying to find what exactly will make you tick.

When Renjun slides a finger into your hole unexpectedly, you jump and whimper a bit but the feeling of him sliding in and out along with his tongue circling and sucking on your clit makes a knot form in the pit of your stomach, tightening up your muscles and making your eyes roll back.

“Right there. Oh my god, right there…” You keep repeating, praying that Renjun treats you good and let’s you come. He adds another finger and you gasp, starting to move your hips in rhythm to his hand, holding onto his shoulders for more stability. He glances up at you, watching your eyes screw shut and your tits bounce as you use his hand to get yourself off. Renjun hums against you, and you can almost feel the ecstasy of coming undone, until Renjun pulls away. You groan, feeling like crying when your orgasm fades.

“Hey..” You whine, pouting when Renjun stands back up and licks your juices off of his lips. He has some on his chin and you bring your hand up to wipe it away, Renjun stopping your hand and kissing the wetness away, then kissing up your arm and to your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear. He tugs at your earlobe, licking the skin under it and biting some more, his hands sliding up your waist at playing with your nipples, pinching a little to get whimpers out of you and making your hips buck up, ready to continue where Renjun left you at.

That’s when you feel the hardness in his pants; it must be painful. That’s why you understand his next words, whispered into the shell of your ear between kisses: “You’re not coming until I’m in you, got it?”

You nod quickly, attaching your hands to Renjun’s zipper and button, undoing them and sliding down his pants.

“But, you’re gonna need to do something for me…” He says, helping you pull down his boxers, watching his angry, red length swing out. You gasp, feeling a bit bad that you just left Renjun like this to eat you out, but you’re sure you can make up to him now.

“What is it? I’ll do it.” Your hands run over Renjun’s sweaty shoulders, moving away some longer hair in the back of his head that’s sticking against his neck.

“You’re gonna have to yell my name. I need you to let everyone know who’s doing this to you— who’s making you feel good, okay?” Your breath gets caught in your throat as the words tumble out of his lips. He tilts his voice higher at the end of every phrase to make him sound innocent, but you’re not fooled.

“There’s people outside…” You mumble back, sending a glance at the door. You know there are several staff and customers walking along the hallways outside. What will they think if they hear you screaming Renjun’s name? Not to talk about what will happen to your job.

Those thoughts melt away when Renjun’s dick slides between your folds slowly, making you turn your gaze back to him and hold on tight as he lubricates himself over your wetness, holding onto your hips so that you don’t move and take anymore than what he’s giving you.

“That’s exactly why I want you to scream. Can you do that for me?” He asks and you nod frantically, doing almost anything to get his dick inside you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen once you step out of this room, but at least you know Renjun is going to give you the best fuck you’ve had in a while, and you know it’ll be worth it for what’s to come after all this.

“Finally…” You moan when Renjun’s length disappears into you inch by inch, going slow as to not hurt you. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he bottoms out, picking up your thigh to hang it over his hip and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you close. You hold onto him, adjusting as he kisses your lips sweetly and carefully, and waits to move his throbbing cock through your velvety walls.

“Go, Renjun, move….” You whisper, and he looks at you confused.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He asks, cocking his head.

“Please, move.” You say louder, but he shakes his head and purses his lips as if he still can’t understand.

“I said, fuck me, Renjun. Please, can you fuck me already?” You all but scream out, your voice almost cracking at how whiny you sound. No doubt, if someone passed by outside they would’ve heard you. The thought makes you tense up, but it feels so good to be able to yell out what you want.

“Your wish, baby.” Renjun mutters before he starts rocking into you. You both groan at the sensation, Renjun’s hips speeding up as he gains more momentum. His lips don’t leave yours, kissing you into oblivion while his dick stuffs you. He has you against the wall, his hips powering away and you don’t dare to disturb him, realizing he’s burning all of his anger away as well.

“Yes, Renjun, fuck me just like that…'' You moan loudly to spur him on, now not really caring about who’s outside or who hears you, just wanting Renjun to know you love how rough he’s going. He presses you higher up the wall and pulls your legs apart more, hitting a new angle that literally makes you scream out, tears mixing with the sweat on your face as he relentlessly pumps into you.

There are so many things going on at the same time. Your hard nipples and soft breasts rubbing against Renjun’s chest, making goosebumps rise on his arms. Your hot and sweaty bodies are basically sliding against each other. The clapping of his hips against yours no doubt attracts attention from outside along with your screams and Renjun’s grunts continuously get louder as you both get closer to the climax.

“I’m gonna come… Renjun, come in me…” You’re already fucked out, the words barely leaving your lips coherently, but Renjun understands and moves his finger down to find your clit, circling his thumb fast and steady, just like everything else he’s doing.

“C’mon come on my cock, babe. Let it out, I wanna hear it.” And just like that, you unwind and scream his name as your orgasm washes over and takes control, making you claw onto any part of Renjun that you can reach. Renjun feels your walls deliciously convulse around him and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he comes into you and fills you up, staying wrapped up in you as you both calm down.

Renjun presses small kisses wherever he feels like as your breathing settles down, his softness and the caring way he rubs at your sides and hips where he was holding so hard that you’re sure to have bruises makes you smile hazily.

“___… I don’t regret any of this.” He whispers into your skin, leaning back to look at you properly. “Do you?”

“No.” You answer truthfully, making his eyes shine and you both smile dumbly, your sticking bodies relaxing. The happy moment doesn’t last long before there’s a knock on the door to the sauna. You and Renjun stiffen up as you glance at the door, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

“Renjun? Son?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you cover your mouth at the voice of Renjun’s father on the other side of the door, but when you turn to Renjun, he doesn’t seem bothered. He sends a smile at you and moves some hair from your face before answering.

“Occupied, go somewhere else. We’re busy.”

3K notes · View notes

loveelle · 3 years ago

Text

Keep it On

Reggie Peters x Reader Smut

Request from Anon: Can I request a Reggie x reader smut, while reader is wearing Reggie’s flannel?

A/N: Reblogs help inspire me to write more because then more people see!

Warnings: smut (18+)

WC: 2.4K

MASTER

---

5 minutes was all you needed alone with Reggie which, unfortunately, was more time than you’ve had alone all week. You loved the band, but god, you would trade the three of them- Alex, Luke, and Julie- in for just 5 minutes with your boyfriend. Okay, maybe that’s not true, but that doesn’t mean you’re no longer eager for alone time with Reggie.

You were sitting on the couch in the studio, eyes scanning over your boy with his bass hugged right to his chest as the band finishes the last of their song. His hair was glistening with sweat as he pushes it out of his face, focused entirely on Julie singing in hopes he can get his playing on time. You know he does by the small smile he gives himself to celebrate and his eyes flicker up to you briefly.

The look Reggie sends you cause your heart to race as you wink at him, making his eyes widen when you follow the wink with a smirk. He knows that look you’re giving him and he knows exactly what you want, something he’s been aching for lately as well.

“I need a break.” Luke huffs as he falls into the chair next to him, his guitar slumped on top his chest before he picks his head up. “10-minutes?”

You almost cry out in joy.

“Sounds great. I’m starving!” Julie groans loudly when she puts her mic back in its stand and clutch her stomach. Luke follows after her, despite not being able to eat, he won’t leave the young girl’s side. Alex takes one look at Reggie and you who was almost squirming in anticipation before he makes the decision to follow Luke and Julie. As soon as the three of them leave the room, you pounce off the couch and into Reggie’s already awaiting arms.

“I actually thought they’d never leave.” Reggie mumbles as his hands grip the back of your shirt to bring you closer against him and his lips meet yours.

You hum into his touch, your fingers trailing lightly on his chest until they were brushing Reggie’s jaw before you pull from the kiss slightly, just enough to talk. “I was about to ask them to join us.”

You go back in, wanting more than anything to finish the kiss and other things, but Reggie’s gasp and surprised look stops you. “R-Really? I mean, r-really?”

“Me, Reggie.” You mumble, squeezing his cheeks. “Focus on me.” You giggle and Reggie’s eyes widen before he snaps them close, crinkling his face. You giggle more at the sight before kissing his nose, getting him to open his eyes. When they meet yours, paired with Reggie’s smile stretched wide, you were glad he was holding you because your knees became weak.

Reggie’s mouth dips in the kiss from your mouth to your neck, his fingers slowly but surely find the bottom of your shirt and before you could think, it was over your head and thrown somewhere in the studio. As his hands travel your now bare back, you moan softly and cup Reggie’s face so you could kiss him again, pulling the flannel off of him in the process. You smirk at the feeling of Reggie’s biceps, giving them a squeeze before you tug on his tank top and it’s over his head. You pull back, letting your eyes move down Reggie’s bare chest and Reggie looks down your bra clad one, adjusting the growing bulge in his pants and you decide to help out, reaching behind your back and undoing your bra, tossing it into the abyss along with your shirt.

Reggie’s breath hitches as his eyes fall on your chest, your nipples already hardening against the cool air in the studio. “You are…” Reggie’s voice trails off before he looks up into your eyes, “Did you know you are gorgeous? Because you absolutely are.”

You don’t know how he does it, but when he compliments you like this, you can do nothing but believe him as your cheeks flair and your heart races. “Well, come over here and remind me.”

Reggie was in front of you in a second, one hand slips behind your back while the other slowly trails up your front, cupping your left boob and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You moan into his mouth, Reggie’s tongue slipping in you kiss him hard, savoring the minutes you have with him alone. You start on the buckle of his belt, barely getting it undone before someone knocks at the door.

You pull back from a frozen Reggie with wide eyes. “Where’s my bra?” you whisper sharply to him as you look around the room, not seeing your clothes anywhere. “Where’s my shirt!?”

“Here, just take this!” Reggie’s whisper was louder as he shoves something into your hands and it takes you only a moment to realize it’s his flannel. Reggie watches you throw the piece of clothing on quickly and button it up, the view he had of your boobs slowly disappearing, but then something else strikes him quickly.

It was really hot seeing you in his flannel and knowing you had nothing on underneath.

He gulps and the thoughts disperse as the door opens and Julie steps inside, her hands covers her eyes and you stifle a laugh. “We’re decent.” You yell to Julie and she hesitates before letting her hands fall.

“Sorry, just didn’t want to walk in on anything because I forgot my water bottle.” She grabs her bottle, shaking it in the air before her eyes flicker down to Reggie’s flannel on you and realizes just how much she was interrupting. “Okay, have fun.” She rushes to the door before stopping and her eyes narrow at the two of you. “But wipe down anywhere that you um,” she trails off, her eyes widening as she implies ‘anywhere you fuck’ and you quickly stifle your laugh at her before nodding. “I don’t really know how doing it as ghosts work, but I don’t think it’s sanitary.”

Before you can say anything, Julie is out the door and Reggie’s mouth is attached to your neck again, your eyes rolling back immediately along with a moan you don’t even have time to try and hold back. “I see you’re as excited as I am.” You whisper to him, pushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He mumbles and his smirk presses against your skin. You lick your lips, dragging your teeth across your bottom one.

“Believe me, I have an idea.” You reach your hand down Reggie’s chest to the front of his washed-out jeans, palming his hardened erection and causing Reggie to moan in your ear, the sound shooting right to your core. “Take your pants off, Reg.” you whisper and push away from him enough to undress yourself again, pulling the top few buttons undone on the flannel before Reggie stops you, his hands gripping your wrists as his eyes dart between your eyes and your great display of cleavage.

“Keep it on.” He mumbles and you hear him, but the surprise causes you to inhale sharply.

“W-what?”

Reggie drops your wrists, continuing to undo his pants as he talks. “K-Keep it on. I wanna-“ He pauses only briefly, cheeks starting to redden. “I wanna fuck you in my flannel.”

His confidence as he tells you what he wants makes your knees weak and you nod quickly, gulping back how turned on you were. “That sounds… I mean, yeah. We can do… That’s hot.” Reggie drops his pants to the ground, leaving himself only in his boxers as he stands in front of you. You smirk. “And that’s hotter.”

Your pants hit the floor right after and Reggie groans at your black panties peaking out from under his black and red flannel, making his cock twitch inside his boxers. You jump forward, latching lips again tongues clashing together in the kiss. “The bed?” Reggie mumbles amongst the heavy and you nod, only breaking the kiss as both of you teleport to the bed up in the loft.

You fall back on the bed, head thrown back in pleasure as Reggie’s mouth moves down your front, pressing kisses along your neck to your chest, slowly unbuttoning the flannel as it goes. “Fuck, Reg!” you moan out as Reggie takes your nipple between his teeth, cupping and squeezing your other boob in his hand.

Reggie basks in the sounds he’s pulled from your lips, from your gasps and pants to your whines and moans as he slips a hand under the band of your underwear, grazing his fingers over your lips and teasing your clit. He battles between smirking and smiling at you as he pulls the last piece of your own clothing off you, leaving you only in his flannel and he slips his own boxers off.

“How much time do we have?” Reggie asks as he strokes his hardening member, your eyes drawing to the action and a rush ending to your core.

You shake your head. “Not long enough.” You mumble and Reggie grins at you, surprising you with a peck on your lips before he was putting a condom on and slipping into you. You gasp as he fills you, his slow movements causing the gasp to turn into a low moan from the both of you. His head dips onto your shoulder and after a few seconds he starts thrusting, bucking his hips against yours at increasing speed. “God, Reggie you feel so good, oh my-“ Your mouth hangs open as Reggie pulls his head back to look at you with his crooked smile, your eyes catching a beautiful glimpse of him before they roll back gently and Reggie reach your highs within moments of each other. Reggie was mesmerized with the sight below him, your chest was heaving and springing free from the flannel when your back arches off the bed.

Your moans turn to heavy pants as Reggie softens inside you and relaxes on top of you. He pulls out with a groan from him and a breathy moan from you as you kiss his cheek and he collapses on the bed next to you, taking care of the condom into the trash.

“Do we have time for another round?” Reggie asks quickly, his eyes battling to stay focused on yours when your boobs are still teasing him with peaks from his shirts.

You giggle, rolling a button between your fingers as you shake your head. “I don’t think so, baby.” He frowns and decides to leave his eyes on your chest, something that makes you giggle harder. “Why are you-“

“Because they’re going away when the band gets back and I’m gonna miss them!” He argues with a pout but it’s enough for you to cover your mouth as you laugh. Reggie sighs dramatically and pulls the flannel open before pressing a kiss to the middle of your boobs with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.” He whispers to them and you roll your eyes.

“Should I give you three some privacy?” You joke and run a hand through his hair gently. Reggie shakes his head before buttoning the button between your boobs, covering them but also giving Reggie the sexiest look he’d ever seen. You snort. “Why did I even bother with trying to look sexy when we were alive when I could’ve just thrown on a flannel and called it a night?”

Reggie’s eyes flicker up to you. “You could breathe and it would be sexy but there’s just something about you wearing my flannel that’s just hot.” He shrugs, moving his body up to reach to reach your lips. You cup his face you kiss him, only to hear the door open and your friends. Reggie’s eyes widen. “There’s no way that was 10 minutes.” He whispers and you shake your head.

“Reggie? Y/N? Break’s over!” Luke’s voice calls out and you face palm as Reggie scrambles after you, shrugging on his boxers and you slip your panties back on before grabbing his arm. He whips his head around.

“All our clothes are downstairs!” You whisper sharply to him and Reggie glances over the railing to see Luke and Alex chilling downstairs.

“Uh, guys?” He calls out as you button the flannel. He tells them to leave and the duo grows confused before Luke slaps a hand against Alex’s chest and focuses on a small pile of what appeared to be clothes laying by the loft’s ladder. Alex looks and sighs before catching onto why Reggie and you wanted them to leave. No one needed to tell him twice as he disappears to inform Julie not to head inside, however the younger girl was far more perceptive than the ghost boys.

Luke’s face scrunches in disgust as he looks up at Reggie hiding you behind him on the loft. “Really? In the studio?” He asks exasperated as you giggle against Reggie’s back and peak over his shoulder.

“In your old bed.” You tell him with a smirk and Luke fakes a gag, disappearing right in the middle of it. You shake your head and Reggie grabs your hand before you both teleport off the loft and downstairs, separating after a quick kiss to throw your clothes back on.

Reggie watches as you shrug off his flannel and put your bra back on, throwing your shirt back on. “I need a day off from the band.” Reggie sighs out of nowhere as you glance up at him, with a small smile.

“You need a week off.” You joke to him, raising a brow and grabbing his flannel again to hand to him.

Reggie gulps, glancing between you and the clothing article. “And- and with a whole week off, what would we uh…” he stutters and you wait patiently as he tries again. “What would we do?” He rushed out and you furrow your brows in minor confusion before You realize what he was getting at, what he wanted to do all week and you smirk. “Sex?” He blurts out, clocking the teasing smirk on your face. “We’re gonna- gonna have sex all week?” You smirk deeper and shrug, watching Reggie’s cheeks darken when all your friends walk back into the studio. You say nothing as you fall on the couch behind you, Reggie’s eyes don’t leave you as he clutches the flannel in his hand. Finally, he turns to the rest of the band. “I’m gonna need the next week off.”

#Reggie Peters x reader #Reggie Peters imagine #Reggie Peters fanfiction #Reggie Peters #Jatp x reader #jatp imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms x reader #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms fanfiction #Julie and the phantoms #jatp

372 notes · View notes

phykios · 4 years ago

Text

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12).

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog.

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation.

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.”

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut.

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other.

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets.

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…”

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.”

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up.

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…”

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements.

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.”

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.”

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun.

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.”

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?”

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.”

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper.

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise.

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release.

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene.

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says.

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…”

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea.

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?”

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--”

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much.

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.”

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit.

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles.

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door.

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom.

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street.

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing.

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things.

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question.

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?”

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand.

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile.

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice.

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared.

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear.

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him.

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend?

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice.

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?”

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps.

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly.

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…”

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?”

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock.

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before.

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his.

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could.

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.”

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan.

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today.

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor.

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit.

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision.

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you��ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…”

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.”

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him.

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together.

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together.

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all.

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time.

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him?

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode.

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust.

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner.

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks.

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar.

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books.

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra.

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself.

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look.

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?”

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness.

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch!

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?”

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes.

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?”

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes.

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.”

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.”

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.”

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head.

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21.

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music?

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth.

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly.

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill.

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…”

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake.

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window.

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos.

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks.

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her.

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers.

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit.

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him.

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin.

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say:#1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄#pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

731 notes · View notes