#…i think i want to take the day off on friday next week. i’ll probably need an eternity to process the mv… haha…

[deus-ex-mona]

my brothers in crisis, what is h a p p e n i n g in the last stage mv

[thesparkling-diamond27]

Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

[no-144444]

catch-up- l.norris (no.4)

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summary: lando after Monza.

pairing: land norris x fem! reader.

warnings: talk of workplace harassment

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Lando walked into your apartment with a sour expression on his face. You’d been waiting for him all night. P1 to P3, not exactly a good result. 

“Hey darling,” you sighed, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He didn’t hug you back. You tried to press a kiss to his cheek, but he shrugged you off and moved further into the apartment and left you in the living room as he went to your bedroom. 

Your day hadn’t been great either, if he’d cared to ask, but you didn’t really think faulting him right now was a smart idea. Emotions were high, you’d seen the interviews, you’d seen his face on the podium, and you’d seen him. It still stung.

You followed after him and leant against the doorframe, watching him take off his clothes to be left in his boxers. He didn’t look in your direction once. He lay down in the bed, his back to you, and that was that. 

Shit. 

“Great discussion,” you mumbled under your breath, and closed the door. Imola to Monaco was only a 3 hour flight and he’d left Imola at about 10pm. It was only about 2am now, and you had work in the morning. Work that you didn’t want to go to. The new co-worker you were teaching was probably the creepiest guy you could ever imagine, and he decided that you were his to touch all day on Friday. Disgusting. 

You saw the door open as you settled on the couch, just hoping to drown out the worried and upset thoughts that ran through your head. You were worried about Lando, worried about the Driver’s Championship, worried about Oscar, worried about Lando and Oscar’s relationship, worried about Lando’s confidence, worried about going to work, trying to think about a strategic outfit, worried about the other girls in the office, worried about-

“Hi,” his soft voice invaded your senses, and you turned to face him. There he was, beside you, his hand in yours. 

“Hi,” you answered, your voice hoarse and tired. “I’m sorry about today.”

He nodded. “It’s my fault,” he shrugged. “Oscar made the pass, and I was allowed to race him-”

“Lando, you’re not seriously blaming yourself for today, are you?” You asked. He didn’t answer, just staring down at where your hands connected. “It would’ve been a 1-2 finish if Stella and the team didn’t take a page out of the Ferrari handbook of how to fuck shit up. Papaya rules can fuck off, and so can Zak Brown. You deserved that 1-2. Both of you do. P3 is still good, but I know it’s not enough for you. But Lan, think about where you were last year, or the year before. The progress you’ve made this year alone? Unimaginable. Don’t get tunnel-visioned into hating yourself because of one bad race result when you know how talented and skilled you are, and how you won against Max with a fucking 22 second gap. Monza wasn’t your weekend, but next weekend will be and that’s what matters. Also, P3, standing on the podium being a bad result? I’d say you’re doing pretty well then.”

He smiled softly as you reminded him of who he was, but also how important you are to him. Speeches like that from you made him feel a thousand times better than any consolation pity pep-talk he could’ve gotten from someone in the team. “Thank you,” he pressed his lips to your cheek. “Please come to bed.”

You chuckled softly. “I doubt I’ll be sleeping much tonight.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just… head busy,” you shrugged. “But I’ll come in if you want me to.” 

He pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss. “I always want you near me.”

You chuckled. “Ok Romeo,” you scoffed, getting up. 

“How was work this week?” he asked, following you into your bedroom. 

“Shit,” you sighed, lying down. “But probably better than yours.”

“What happened?”

“It’s fine Lan,” you brushed it off. “You’re tired.”

“Not enough to not hear what you have to say,” he sat up, waiting for you to speak. 

You sighed and turned to him, resting your head in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair. “I was training this new guy at work and he decided to make it his personal mission to make me as uncomfortable as possible. He just kept touching me, and not seeing how it was inappropriate. Now I have to think about what I wear even more, and tell the rest of the girls at the office, and-”

“Baby, you shouldn't be dealing with that,” he sighed. You could tell he was angry. “You need to tell HR.”

“That’s the worst part, he’s the HR guy,” you groaned. “Anyways, I just want to sleep, and I know you do too.”

He nodded, lying beside you and wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Please don’t come to my place of work and threaten this guy Lan.”

He scoffed. “I wasn’t going to threaten him, I was going to get Max to do it.”

You chuckled. “You’re a child.”

“I’m a problem solver,” he shrugged. “Ok, but he needs to be fired. I can come in and I’ll pretend like he’s insulted me massively as a customer, boom, he’s gone.”

“Ok Superman, whatever you say,” you giggled.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[yoon-kooks]

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

More CEORRY smut pls! He’s so HAWT🥵🥵

Got Me Right Where You Want Me*

warnings: smut, swearing, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding, exhibitionism

summary: YN and Harry spend a day on the golf course together, but she won’t make it easy for him

pairing: ceo harry x reader

wc: 5.4k

masterlist | harry styles masterlist | requests open

a/n: i’ve decided i’m gonna try and post a oneshot every friday (key word is TRY😭) and i’ll probably do blurbs in between

~

Fresh out of the shower with wet hair and a towel around his waist, Harry steps into his and YN’s shared bedroom, humming the tune of the song he’d been listening to. His eyes instantly travel to his wife, who is freshly showered as well, still sitting in the exact same spot she was in when he went to shower. He rolls his eyes fondly as he watched her scroll through her emails with just a towel around her, the cutest look of concentration adorning her face.

Making his way to her, he sits down next to her, and she looks up at him with a soft smile. Returning her smile, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers sweetly. She melts into him and frowns when they pull away, making him chuckle at her.

“Do you want to come with me to the course today?” he questions, standing from the bed and heading to the closet. YN is slightly confused, as he’s never asked her to accompany him before.

“I mean, of course, but what’s the occasion?“ she asks, standing up as well and heading to her side of the closet. Her eyes skim over her clothes as she awaits his answer, a sigh leaving her when she realizes she’d left her white tennis skirt at their London home the last time they visited.

“Just miss you,” he responds, sitting down on his ottoman to pull his shirt over his head. “Been busy all week and we haven’t really had any time together,” he finishes timidly, making YN laugh quietly at him.

Walking over to him, she leans over him and places her hands on his chest. “We’ve been together for ten years and you’re still afraid to admit you love me?” she questions. “I’m starting to think you’re ashamed of me or something,” she teases, heading back to her space to find an outfit.

Harry tuts at her, a frown tugging at his lips. “Oh, shut the fuck up. You know m’not ashamed of you. Never have been, never could be,” he retorts, pulling his pants up before sliding his feet into his shoes.

She laughs heartily at her husband, sitting down to start moisturizing her skin. “Yeah, I bet you can’t be. Especially not when you cried like a baby at our wedding in front of all your tough guy friends,” she teases, making him scoff in mock offence.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he laughs, pushing her shoulder playfully before standing up to loop his belt into his pants. “I still think you’re the one who leaked those pictures,” he mutters, making her double over in laughter at the memory behind the accusation.

He makes his way from the closet with a dimpled grin on his face, headed to the garage to get his clubs. “I’m ready whenever you are, gonna be in the Range Rover,” he calls, and she nods in agreement although he can’t see her.

Standing back up, she skims her closet once more, dragging her finger along each item of clothing as she tries to decide what to wear. She knows it’s nearly 100°F in LA, so she needs something that’ll keep her cool.

Her eyes land on a purple, thin, tennis dress, and her face lights up as it’s absolutely perfect. It matches Harry’s shirt almost perfectly, and it’s thin enough to keep her cool out in the summer heat.

Taking it off the hanger, she smiles as she notices just how short it is, and knowing that it will be even shorter once it’s on her body. She slides on a decides against a bra, knowing it’ll be uncomfortable in the material and she can use it to her advantage anyways.

She immediately slips the dress over her head before deciding on some plain white sneakers and putting on some jewelry and perfume before heading out of the closet and down to the car where Harry is waiting for her.

In no rush at all, she takes her time and makes her way down to the garage, anticipating Harry’s reaction. She closes the door behind her and slips into the car without a word, buckling her seatbelt.

Harry’s eyes are practically burning her skin with how hard he’s staring, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know that his eyes are bulging out of his head.

Turning to look at him, she puts on a look of faux confusion as she eyes him. “Are you okay?” she questions innocently, placing her arm on his bicep.

Her touch seems to snap him out of the trance, and he clears his throat with a small nod before pulling out of the garage and heading down the road. A small smirk plays on YN’s lips as they make the drive there, loving how fidgety Harry is beside her. She can clearly see his jaw clench every time he spares her a glance before swallowing thickly, his Adam’s Apple straining against the skin of his throat.

When the two are sat at a red light, YN decides to take it a step further. Reaching over, she places a hand on his thigh and feels the thick muscle twitch beneath her palm. Harry glares at her for a split second before the light turns green, his eyes snapping back to the road ahead.

A sigh of relief passes through his lips when he sees the familiar greenery of their country club’s golf course, ready to get out of the car that’s so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. He practically speeds into his reserved parking spot, throwing the car in park and leaning back to rest against the seat.

Still smirking, YN moves her hand from his thigh to the very prominent bulge in his slacks, grazing it gently. She’s filled with satisfaction when he inhales sharply and cuts his eyes to hers in anger.

Before he can retaliate, she’s slipping out of the car quickly, and he’s not even a little bit surprised when she ‘drops’ her visor on the ground outside the car only to bend down to pick it up.

His eyes are bulging out of his head once again as he has a full view of her barely covered ass, making him stifle a groan. He can’t even form any words to speak, not that he’d get a word in anyways as she closes the door and heads into the building, a smug smile on her face.

In the car, Harry’s mouth is agape as he recalls each event he’s gone through since he stepped out of his shower, palming his cock as he realizes her game. He’s so hard it hurts, but he tries his best to will the boner away, all while coming up with a plan to even the score.

~

Rolling her eyes in frustration, YN flips Harry the middle finger as he turns to look at her, a dimpled smile on his face. Sweat is glistening on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face in the humid LA heat, and YN is damn near dripping down her thighs as she watches him play.

Ever since Harry set foot into the country club with a dimpled grin on his face, YN knew she’d fucked up by teasing him the way she did. No matter how nervous she gets, though, she refuses to show it.

With each precise swing of his favourite club, Harry makes sure to flex his muscles extra hard, and groans extra loud when the ball doesn’t go as far as he’d like.

After each of these, he cuts his eyes to his wife who is trying to act like it’s not affecting her, but he can see through her tough act. Just the thought of her dripping into her panties but acting like she isn’t has his knees weak.

About three holes in, Harry decides to take a break and go inside the club for some much needed air. He hops onto his reserved golf cart beside his wife and leans over to give her a peck on the lips before driving toward the building.

His smirk is still very evident when he places his free hand on her thigh that’s closest to him, and YN thinks nothing of it as it is a normal gesture. When he moves his hand up higher to the bottom of her dress, her breath hitches and she whips her head to look at him as she realizes what he’s doing.

“You’re not funny, H,” she hisses, a scowl on her face as his fingers touch the crevice where her thigh and pelvis meet.

Harry scoffs out a sarcastic laugh at her comment before he speaks up. “Yeah, but it was funny when you did it, hm?” he retorts, making the sharp turn that leads them to the concrete road. The movement makes his hand graze right over her pussy, and the both of them gasp quietly at the feeling.

Smirking, Harry turns his head to her for a split second. “It’s not funny. I see,” he mutters. “‘s not funny because you’re dripping into your panties and you want me to do something about it, right?” he questions, pulling into the parking spot and killing the engine.

He doesn’t even give her time to answer before he’s pushing down right where her clit is, making her choke out a moan.

Just as she starts to buck her hips into his hand, he pulls away, laughing loudly as she whines in frustration. “Should’ve thought about that before you started this, Pet,” he teases, waiting for her to climb out of the cart and head inside.

He reaches his hand out for hers, but she angrily stoops past him, upset that he’s beat her at her own game. The action makes him laugh even harder, shaking his head at his prideful wife.

~

Once inside the club, Harry gruffly greets everyone he knows, ignoring the ogling women around him. He truly only has eyes for his wife, not even bothering to look their way. Each woman has their eyes on him as he steps in, confused as to why he stood waiting by the entrance.

All of their confusion quickly moulds into jealousy as they see a beautiful woman enter the building, a pretty dress on that is the same colour as Harry’s shirt. They each take note of how he smiles softly at her and wraps his arm around her waist to keep her close, a stark contrast to the way he interacts with others.

The club is silent as the two make their way to the bar, watching the way his arm never leaves her body. No one has ever seen YN, let alone the way he treats her differently than everyone else.

The two of them just end up getting waters, parched from the heat. Despite the fact that water is free there, Harry makes sure to slap two $100 bills onto the counter once they receive their drinks.

It’s no longer silent in the club, the onlookers going back about their day as the two are literally just drinking water. Once the two are all refreshed from the cold drinks, Harry places a ringed hand on YN’s thigh once again, making her jump slightly at the coldness of his palm.

She has to stifle a groan when he picks up where he left off earlier, toying with the edge of her panties before pulling them to the side and swiping a finger through her folds. The action has her eyes rolling into her head when he grazes her sensitive clit, and then he just pulls away.

YN groans in frustration at the teasing, leaning up to whisper in his ear angrily. “Okay, it’s not fucking funny anymore,” she grits out, making Harry’s eyes widen slightly in shock. “If you aren’t going to fuck me then stop fucking touching me,” she finishes, sitting up straight once more.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and immediately knows she fucked up. His eyes have darkened and his jaw is clenched. Unsurprisingly, the sight only turns her on even more, and she has to squeeze her thighs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing between her legs.

“In the fucking bathroom. I want you bent over the sink with y’panties down,” he demands, pinching her clit slightly and making her whimper at the slight pain that shoots up her spine. “And don’t even think about touching yourself. You’re already in trouble,” he warns, snapping her panties back into place and taking another drink of his water.

She practically scrambles as she hurries to the family bathroom, doing as he says and hoping that no one comes in and sees her exposed this way.

It’s definitely been over ten minutes by the time she’s getting so desperate she can barely wait, and then the door swings open, making her tense. She hears a familiar hum of satisfaction from behind her, and she relaxes as it’s only her husband.

Closing the door behind him, he doesn’t take his eyes off of where she’s dripping for him, watching as a bit of her slick trails down her thighs with how desperate she is.

Stepping up behind her, he swipes a finger over the skin of her thigh and collects some of her arousal before bringing it to his lips. Looking up into the mirror, he finds her eyes as he brings his finger to his mouth.

Moaning at the taste, he watches as YN squirms in discomfort as he pussy throbs at the sight. No more words are exchanged as Harry unbuttons his pants and takes his cock out before using his palm to clean up some of her arousal.

YN is confused for a moment, but it doesn’t last long at all as she watches him wrap his hand around his cock and start to stroke it with her stick.

He groans in pleasure as she whines at the sight, unsure how much more she can take. “Please fuck me. Swear I’ll be good, Daddy. Just please,” she begs, finding his eyes in the mirror.

“Mm, I don’t know, pet,” he tsks, stepping forward and moving the head of his cock through he swollen folds. “You haven’t been on your best behaviour today, so I’m not sure if you deserve it,” he hums in faux thoughtfulness.

She’s near tears at this point, just desperate to feel him deep inside of her and stretching her out. “I swear I do, I didn’t meant it,” her eyes are still boring into his. “I’ll be such a good girl, just-,” she’s immediately cut off with a gasp that melts into a moan, as Harry decided to push his cock into her in one quick thrust.

Her hands are gripping the counter tightly as he bottoms out, her jaw dropped as she hears him groan behind her. She’s so fucking full of him, feeling each ridge and vein of his cock grazing her sensitive walls.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Daddy,” she babbles, feeling the head of his cock pressed slightly against her cervix.

The slight pain has her head spinning, and he’s just pressed up against her as he lets her adjust. When she’s fully relaxed, she gives him a slight nod of permission to begin thrusting into her.

Harry wastes absolutely no time, pulling out until only the tip of him is resting inside of her before slamming back into her and burying himself to the hilt.

The force of the thrust sends her flying forward, a choked moan falling from her lips at the feeling. He repeats the action over and over, and she’s sure she’ll have bruises on her torso in the morning from how rough it is. But she wouldn’t change it, not at all. Especially not with the way he’s making her feel so good she can barely form a coherent sentence.

Cries and moans are accompanied by the sound of Harry’s hips hitting her ass with each thrust, giving everyone outside a mental image of exactly what’s going on behind the bathroom doors.

That thought doesn’t stop him, though. If anything, it gave him the motivation to keep up the pace, absolutely wrecking his wife. His fingers are digging into her hips as he pulls her back to meet each thrust as well as keeping her stable.

Removing one hand from her hip, he brings it down onto her backside harshly, listening to her cry out and feeling her clench around him. “Gonna cum?” he questions, watching as she squeezes her eyes shut and nods, ready to cum then and there.

Just as she’s about to fall over the edge, though, she feels her orgasm slipping away and she’s empty as Harry pulls out of her, stroking his cock furiously before sliding the tip back into her at the last moment and cumming inside her contracting walls with a throaty groan.

She whines in frustration, slamming her hand down onto the counter as she squeezes her shaking thighs together for some sort of stimulation.

She looks up at him questioningly, the sadness on her face almost making him feel bad. Almost. The remorse is quickly turned back into arousal as he sees his cum leaking from her and down her thighs a bit.

“Fuck,” he pants, tucking his cock back into his slacks. “I should make you sit out there in a puddle of my cum but I need you home so I can really take you,” he spits before spanking her ass once more.

She moans deeply at the sharp sting as he rubs the sore spot before pulling her panties back up. “Cmon, let’s get to the car,” he tells her, and she instantly obliges.

The two walk back out into the main area, ignoring the shocked looks of the other members as it’s very obvious what they were doing in the bathroom.

~

Once they’re back in the car, YN is still very angry at her mean husband, but at the same time she knows she deserved it for being a brat. She just didn’t think he’d deny her of an orgasm.

The radio is on in the car, and it’s the only sound they can hear beside the engine. YN’s arms are folded neatly in her lap as she tries to avoid more punishment, already knowing he’s angry.

“Pull y’panties down,” he demands suddenly, making YN look at him in shock before immediately doing what he requested as she takes in the firm look on his face. “Rub your clit a little. Just real soft and slow,” he tells her, eyeing her as she places one leg on the dashboard and passes him the panties.

She wastes absolutely no more time, bringing two fingers between her messy folds and then up to her swollen clit before rubbing slowly and softly, just as he’d told her to. The stimulation feels so good, and she squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head back against the seat as she tries not to speed her hand up.

“Would y’look at that,” he muses, basking in the sound of her breathy whines as he watches her tease herself. “Y’panties are all ruined, poor thing,” he smirks.

She cries out in frustration and pleasure as she circles her clit again, the slow torture only making her angry.

He hums in faux sympathy, looking over at her for a brief second. “Do y’need Daddy to take care of you?” he questions, smiling softly as she nods furiously. “Oh, Pet,” he tsks. “Should’ve thought about that, hm?” he continues. “Slap y’cunt five times. Hard. Then put your legs back down,” he finishes, making her groan at the demand.

She follows his orders immediately, the stinging pain of the slaps making her jump and cry out in pain. She doesn’t let up, though, finishing up the request before closing her legs tightly and fixing her dress once more.

Harry gives her a towel to clean his cum from her hand before they continue the drive in silence, YN anticipating what’s to come.

~

By the time they arrive at home, nervous isn’t the word to describe what YN is feeling, not in the slightest. She’s kind of shaky, but Harry places a warm hand on her thigh and calms her down, his gentle touch letting her know that there’s nothing to worry about. He will always take care of her.

Stepping out of the car with her panties in pocket, Harry walks around to the passenger door and helps her out, letting her go in front of him to punch in the code to get into their home.

He closes the door gently, taking his shoes off as she does the same. “You can take a seat on the couch, I’ll be back down after I take a shower,” he tells her before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. Yet another gesture to let her know he isn’t too angry anymore.

She nods and does as he says, just scrolling on her phone for a few minutes until she hears a knock on the front door. Confusion fills her, she’s not expecting anyone and she hopes Harry isn’t at a time like this.

Opening the door, YN is honestly saddened to see Niall, Harry’s best friend, on the other side of the door in some casual clothing.

Leaning down to give her a hug, he places a friendly kiss on YN’s forehead as she invites him in. He starts to slip his shoes from his feet, making YN frown and groan under her breath.

“Hey, YN. I hope you guys don’t mind I came over. My girlfriend and her friends are having a girls day so I’m gonna bother you two for a couple hours,” he tells her, making his way to the couch and sitting down exactly where YN had been sat just moments before.

“No, no! Don’t-“ YN tries to warn him, but he’s already sat there and getting comfortable, turning on the television in front of him.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “It’ll be like I’m not even here,” he finishes.

“Alright,” YN sighs, still standing near the couch. “Do you want a drink or something?” she questions, and he shakes his head.

“No, you just go about whatever you were doing. Thanks,” he smiles, turning back to the television.

“I fucking wish,” YN mutters, headed to the kitchen to get a drink. She rests at the counter with her elbows against it, completely forgetting about how she was pantiless and still dripping with her husband’s cum. Not long after, she feels a presence behind her, making her jump in fear.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Harry chuckles, making her relax. She takes in the scent of his body wash and shampoo, seeing his wet hair before noticing that he’s only dressed in a towel.

“Come upstairs with me. Gonna take care of you, okay?” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and then repeating the action all the way up her neck, making her whine and squirm.

“We can’t, Niall is here,” she grumbles, and he gives her a look that shows he clearly doesn’t care.

“I know, I saw him come in on the doorbell camera,” he answers. “Just gonna have to be a little quieter than normal, can you handle that?” he asks her, laughing as she nods quickly.

Grabbing her hand, he pulls her with him as he quietly runs up the stairs and into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.

“On y’back. Need to eat your cunt before anything else,” he tells her, and she immediately scrambled to do so, desperate to feel him on her in any way she can.

He climbs on the bed after her and spreads her legs, eyeing her messy cunt before him. He’s rock hard by now, his cock throbbing and aching as he needs to be inside her again and feel her cum around his cock.

Lying down on his stomach, he wastes no time, diving in immediately and swiping his tongue through her dripping folds. Both of them groan at that, YN from the feeling and Harry from the taste of his cum on her.

He closes his eyes and works on her, not letting up for even a second as she pants heavily above him. He’s so hard that he subconsciously starts grinding into the duvet, chasing an orgasm as well.

The towel is still wrapped around his waist, the semi rough fibres grazing his sensitive cock perfectly with each push of his hips into the bedding. The feeling makes him groan against her, only pushing her closer to her orgasm.

“Please, can I cum?” she cries out quietly, reaching down and pushing his head tighter to her. He hums and tries his best to nod, giving her permission to finally cum.

She cums then and there, and it’s so hard she has to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head to bite down onto the pillow beneath her head. It’s all she can do to keep herself from screaming, her legs shaking around his head as she cums so hard there are stars behind her eyelids.

He keeps licking at her until she whines and pushes him away, making him sit up, panting. “Holy shit we taste so good together,” he mutters, causing her to let out a snort.

“We’re not done, though. Ready for me now?” he asks her, and she laughs in shock before nodding at him.

He quickly helps her to lie on her side, getting behind her and lifting her leg to be over his waist. It’s no secret that it’s her favourite position, allowing her to be close to him as well as feel him so deeply. And it’s his favourite just because it’s her favourite.

Grabbing his cock, he slides the head through her swollen folds for a few seconds before lining up with her hole and slowly sliding in, making her eyes roll back as she gets what she needs.

She lets out a loud moan when he bottoms out, making Harry quickly place his hand over her mouth. “Hush, Pet. Don’t want us to get caught with m,cock deep in you, do you?” he teases, groaning when she clenches down on him at his words. That makes him hum in realization, pulling out just to push his cock back into her before repeating the action over and over at a consistent pace.

Neither of them know that Niall has gone on a search for them, calling their names quietly as he explores the house. Stopping outside of the bedroom door, he hears the faint sound of clapping of some sort, making him stop and listen.

“I bet you want him to hear, hm?” he teases darkly, listening to her whines and moans as she accommodates him fully. “Want m’bestfriend to hear how much of a whore you are for me,” he finishes.

His words have her crying out in pleasure, and he squeezes his hand even tighter around her throat. She claws at his wrist as she struggles to breathe, but he knows she truly doesn’t want him to stop because she didn’t tap him three times.

“Shut the fuck up, ‘m not gonna stop fucking you until you soak my cock and I fill you up again,” he grits, ignoring the sound of Niall groaning in frustration.

The two hear a groan on the other side of their locked door, but he doesn’t let up on his bruising thrusts. “You guys are fucking disgusting, I’m just going to leave,” Niall calls as he makes his way back downstairs with a disgusted look on his face. “Fuck like rabbits, I swear,” he mutters before slamming their front door shut.

YN’s eyes are rolled back into her head, her hand clawing at Harry’s wrist even harder, warning him of her orgasm, knowing it’s going to be big. Leaning down, Harry bites down on her ear gently before pulling away. “I know, baby. Gonna cum again, hm?” he questions, although he already knows the answer.

She nods against the force of him furiously, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to hold off on her orgasm until he gives her permission. Opening her chapped lips, she manages to breathe out, “P-please,” she begs, her voice raspy. Leaning down once more, he presses some gentle kisses all over her neck before sucking on the spot gently.

Wanting to torture her a bit more, he smirks against her skin before he pulls away. “Please, what? What do you want?” he questions, loving the way she chokes and cries out in frustration, tears streaming down her face. “Tell me what you need, use your words, pet,” he hums, feeling her lock up around him once more.

After numerous attempts, and in between gasps for air, she can finally get it out as her lower body practically goes numb. “Please, let me cum,” she begs, feeling her stomach clench almost painfully.

Deciding to end his torment, he nods against her. “Yeah, pet. Cum for Daddy,” he rasps, nearing his orgasm as well. Immediately after he’s finished speaking, he feels her relax around him before locking down on him so tightly that he bites down on his bottom lip to hold back a scream of pleasure.

Her orgasm overloads almost all of his senses; he can hear, feel, and see her orgasm take over her body. The way her breath hitches in her throat and she lets out an almost animalistic groan fills his ears, her tight hole clenching down on him once more as he doesn’t stop his thrusts, the feeling of her orgasm soaking the both of their thighs making him look down as the clear liquid comes from her vagina.

All of those things combined send him over the edge with a silent scream, his face scrunched up as his orgasm is nearly painful with how tight his balls and stomach are.

His thrusts never cease, feeling her flutter around him as he fills her for the last time tonight as she relaxes fully, exhausted. He finally lets go of her throat as she starts to lose consciousness, rubbing up and down her body to ground her and cooing to her to let her know he’s there.

Not even removing himself from her still contracting hole, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder as she comes down slowly. The two stay that way until he has completely softened inside of her and her breathing is no longer shaky and uneven.

Her eyes are still closed in exhaustion when he slowly pulls himself out of her, a small hiss leaving his lips at the temperature change. With another chaste kiss to the side of her face, he lets her know that he’s going to get a washcloth for her, knowing she doesn’t have the energy to move from the bed.

She responds with a tired hum, her eyes still closed. While away, Harry wets a washcloth with warm water before grabbing some relieving cream, and on the way back to his wife he grabs a pair of loose cotton panties for her to sleep in.

Making his way to her, he spreads her legs gingerly before wincing at how swollen she is, guilt filling him. He wipes gently, but obviously not gentle enough as she cries out softly in pain as he grazes her sensitive clit.

“Sorry, baby,” he mutters, being way gentler as he finishes up. As soon as he’s done, he grabs some relieving cream and puts a bit on her before sliding some panties up her legs, rubbing her thighs when she whines slightly in discomfort. “I know, I know. You just need to sleep in them tonight and then you can breathe tomorrow,” he tells her, wiping some sweat from her forehead.

She nods weakly and snuggles into his hand, the warmth making her feel comfortable and even sleepier than she already was. Harry chuckles quietly before cleaning himself up quickly and taking the washcloth back into the bathroom before he pulls some boxers on.

He’s back at her side instantly, helping her weakened body out of the bed and across the hall to their guest bedroom, making sure he tells her what he’s doing to keep her grounded. The blankets are quickly pulled back before he helps her underneath them, and then he’s climbing under them himself, exhausted from his multiple orgasms as well.

No time is wasted before he’s wrapping his arms around her and looking down, only to see that she’s already asleep, her breathing quiet and even. With one last chuckle, he presses a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes, drifting to sleep as well.

~

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[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 9

After Tina’s departure, the neighborhood calmed. Or at least the jealousy calmed. And with the quietness came time to reflect. The Prentiss-Jareau ladies had been pretty MIA for the weeks following their introduction to Tina. 

“Well, the showcase is the Friday before Thanksgiving.”

“Perfect, so I’ll spend Thanksgiving with you and your hot neighbors.” Grayson decided. Y/n chuckled softly and really thought about a holiday with Emily and JJ. 

“I highly doubt that they’d be in attendance, but you’re always welcome to celebrate with me. You sure you don’t want to head home to your family?” 

“Oh, I’m positive. There’s only so much green bean casserole and stuffing a person can take. Also, why wouldn’t your lovers be joining us for Thanksgiving Dinner? If my memory serves me right, which it normally does, they’re not exactly chefs.” Grayson prodded. 

“I’m sure they have their own families to visit for one. And for two, they’ve been acting a little weird since Tina came to visit.” 

“Weird how?” Grayson asked, eagerly focusing on the prospect of gossip. 

“Oh I don’t know, you know how I spent the night over at Tina’s hotel room? Well, I come home the next day and they’re all ‘Surprised you’re home’ when you and I both know I spend almost all of my time at home. And then they’re short as all get out with me for the rest of the week.” Y/n started to recount, replaying the conversations that happened over the course of the week. “All of that continued until I introduced them to Tina Sunday before her show. They come out of the house wearing next to nothing and suddenly they’re very interested in Tina. But you know how T is– bless her heart. She basically told them I’d been gushing about our bedroom time the whole time she was there. All that to say, since then I haven’t really heard from them. I don’t even know if they’re in town. They could be off in Idaho somewhere for all I know.” 

Grayson was quiet for a second, only a second before she squeal in glee. “They’re jealous! This it’s a cannon event in the FWB to Lovers arc. Your one-time-long-term committed relationship pops up to visit only weeks after you’ve all started your neighbors-with-benefits arrangement which you haven’t actually discussed and they don’t know what to do with their feelings.” Y/n scoffed at Grayson’s very dramatic interpretation of her time in DC and was readying a rebuttal when the other woman gasped through the phone again. “They probably thought you slept with her the night you didn’t come home.” 

“I think you’ve been spending too much time watching the Young and the Restless. Not everything is so cinematic.” 

“That’s a valid criticism of how I spend my time, but you aren’t even denying it which leads me to believe– you’ve already come to this conclusion.” 

“Well I wasn’t born yesterday. I wasn’t sure at first– but when they came prancing down the sidewalk in their running gear, I could see through it like a windowpane. Especially considering Emily would never go jogging for fun. But even Jesus had eyes and trust me, there was so much to see.” 

“If you know they’re jealous, why not just have a conversation with them about it? I mean, it feels like there's something there to explore.”

“And I’m not opposed to that, but they’ve initiated everything in this arrangement. I’m not beating their doors down for sex whenever the mood strikes. With their schedules alone, it’s very much on their terms. Additionally, if this were to transcend the loosely-established-never-discussed rules they’d have the most adjustment to figure out. They’ve got a life together and this just feels like something they might want to discuss at length.” 

“And if they’re already having these conversations?” Grayson prompted. 

Y/n pursed her lips as her cheeks reddened and lifted her shoulder in a shrug, “then they’re having those conversations.”

-

And JJ and Emily had indeed been having those conversations. It was very clear and glaringly obvious that they were interested in something more exclusive with Y/n but bringing an outsider into their already tight schedule was proving to be a harder thing to discuss. 

“Wait, when would we even date her? Court her? It’s not like we have an abundance of free time.” Emily asked on their drive into the office one morning. 

“Well I mean we get some weekends off.” JJ supplied with a shrug. 

“Yeah maybe like three a year…” Emily grimaced. 

JJ rolled her eyes and reminded Emily that they’d almost exclusively seen Y/n on the weekends thus far. And she seemed more than okay with that schedule. “Especially with her schedule during the week, weekends seem to be the best for everyone involved.”

Emily nodded, seeming satisfied with JJ’s words but that wasn’t the last time either of them had questions about the logistics of this decision. And once they’d finally felt like they came to a good place on what they both wanted from this arrangement. The only problem became finding the time to actually broach the subject with their neighbor. The professor’s schedule had progressively gotten busier with classes in the morning and rehearsals in the evenings. It also didn’t help that the BAU seemed to be working cases non-stop. 

-

“God am I glad that’s over.” Morgan  groaned as each of them boarded the jet quietly. They’d just wrapped up a case in Georgia that had seemingly rattled everyone to their core. With the heavy air clouding the jet, it was no surprise when Emily and JJ made their way to two isolated seats next to each other in the cabin. They often did this when things got too hard for them to self-soothe and left over stress from their bodies. Everyone on the team knew of their relationship, so they didn’t bat an eye when the women snuggled close under a blanket. JJ’s head on Emily's shoulder and both of their eyes closed. Usually, the closeness would give both women some calm, but the tension seemed to course through their bodies even after landing. 

As the women made their way to the government-issued SUV, JJ couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she needed something. Her chest had been abnormally tight since they’d landed in Georgia and despite the rocky end to the case, she thought she’d get some relief knowing it was over. But the tension was still there and not even the pressure of Emily’s hand on her thigh seemed to be soothing the ache. She wasn’t exactly anxiety-prone. She surely had her moments of stress— but this sort of worrying wasn’t something she was familiar with. She can only really think of a few times she’d felt like that and they’d all stemmed from Emily. And the fact that the feeling was still there, pulling at her heart, with Emily right next to her confused her.

JJ flipped her phone over in her hand as she mentally assessed her body’s current state. The case was hard, yes, most of them were but something was very different about this case. A man kidnapping and holding young women on a college campus wasn’t exactly the ideal situation but they’d been able to save the last victim. They’d predicted that the unsub wouldn’t go out easily and that was true but overall the case was closed. The more she thought about it the further her mind went from the case itself and more to the experience as a whole. They’d milled through dozens of people for the week they’d been there. All those families filed in and out of the local precinct and the one thing JJ could remember from all of them was that familiar Southern twang. The twang they hadn’t heard in weeks. The twang she found herself missing. Or when the wife of one of the deputies brought in a homemade pie to thank the team for their hard work. JJ had never considered her a pie connoisseur, but she knew this pie didn’t hold a candle to the ones she’d had since Y/n moved in. 

Now after she and Emily got together, she always saw Emily in the world. Whether she was there physically or not. And when she struggled like this, she reached for and leaned on Emily as well. She hadn’t ever experienced that with someone else in her life. But here she was thinking about Y/n, missing her accent, and craving her cooking. Part of her even knew she was craving the physical comfort of their neighbor as well. The neighbor they’d been casually sleeping with for three months (well not in the last few weeks but still three months). 

And even though Emily and JJ had ultimately decided to explore more with the young woman, she still didn’t know that. And honestly, needing to cuddle after a hard day at work didn’t seem very casual. Not casual at all. And not something they’d done with any other woman they’d brought to bed. But then again, that seemed on brand for the way things had been going so far for the three of them.

JJ was itching to reach for her phone again. Maybe just a text would satiate the need and quiet the desire she was feeling. A simple sign of life from the young professor and maybe a plan to see her this weekend. With Emily’s focus on the road she pulled her phone back out and unlocked it. She scrolled past the group chat Garcia was blowing up and opened a new text chain with Y/n. She typed and untyped trying to figure out what she could possibly say to the younger woman. Especially at this hour. 

JJ: Hi, we just landed and are heading home. Let me know if you need anything? If not, maybe we can get together this weekend.

She hit send and closed the app. Watching and waiting would only make her more anxious. She peeked over the console at Emily. The brooding brunette seemed to still be just as off balance as JJ and she could only wonder if it was for the same reasons as her. She didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Why don’t you text Y/n and see if she needs anything before we head in for the night,” Emily suggested as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Already ahead of you.” JJ grimaced sheepishly. “Are you aching to see her as much as i am right now?” 

Emily sighed, “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand it myself. But I feel like I spent this entire case trying not to think about her and see her in everyone we spoke to. I just feel like I need to see her. I thought on the jet back I'd even out enough to get through the night but it’s just nagging.” 

“Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t know how to explain it to you. It is pretty late and she might be asleep already. She’s not answered my message yet,” JJ mused as she looked at her phone.

“I know. If she’s not expecting us she’s normally in bed by 8:30. If she doesn’t message back within the next 15 minutes, we’ll just grab her something wherever we decide to eat.” Emily suggested. 

“Works for me.” JJ nods and they head for home. 

-

Y/n groaned a bit as she felt her phone vibrate under her pillow. She was sure it was a text from Grayson about her night out, so she snuggled closer to her pillow and burrowed closer to sleep. What she wasn’t expecting was for the phone to continue vibrating. She pulled her phone from under her pillow with her eyes still closed and fumbled to answer the call. 

“Hello?” She spoke softly into the phone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was hoping you were still awake.” JJ sighed through the phone as she looked up at the younger woman’s house.

“No no, it’s okay. Is everything okay?” Y/n asked reaching to turn her bedside lamp on. “Are y’all just getting home?” 

“Yeah, we just got back. We weren’t sure if you were up but we got you something to eat either way. Emily insisted on getting you a blizzard.” JJ answered. 

“Oh, is it a choco brownie extreme?” Y/n asked sleepily, getting out of bed. 

“Of course. If you come to unlock the door we can bring it in.” JJ smiled, already feeling the tension lessen in her chest. 

“Already on my way,” Y/n said, ending the call and opening the door. The professor was clad in far less than she normally slept in. A pair of panties, a tank top, and a pink eye mask. But always on her feet were the adorable fluffy slippers she practically lived in while at home. As soon as the door was open and the older women got eyes on Y/n, the weight of the world seemed to lift fractionally. 

“Hi.” Y/n smiled sleepily reaching to grab both Emily and JJ by the wrists to pull them inside. 

“Sorry for waking you.” JJ apologized again, allowing the younger woman to pull them through the mud room and hallway. 

“Oh don’t worry about it, you brought gifts. All is forgiven.” Y/n locked the door and flicked the lights off as they went. “Come on, we’re eating upstairs.” 

As soon as they entered the younger woman’s bedroom the women took it in. All of their escapades had taken place in their home or on various surfaces on the main level of Y/n’s house. So this was the first time they’d actually even been in her bedroom. Y/n took the bag of food and ice cream from Emily’s hands and sat them down on her bedside table. She turned to the women and walked over to the gallery wall they were observing. 

“Hm, I just realized y’all ain’t been up here before,” Y/n said, linking her arms with the older women and redirecting them to her bed. “I tell you what, y'all can explore all you want in the morning, okay? I wanna eat my ice cream and then close my eyes again. And I’ve already locked up so I hope you’re okay with spending the night.” Y/n poked both of their hips affectionately before throwing herself into the center of the bed dramatically. 

JJ was the first to follow Y/n. She shimmied out of her work clothes and pulled the bra from under her tank top. She filed in and Emily followed suit taking the opposite side of the bed. JJ distributed the food and all the women fell into a comfortable silence. They all munched quietly, both Emily and JJ eyeing each other over the younger woman’s head. Looked like they were getting more than they had anticipated, without having to verbalize it. Who were they to complain?

Y/n paused before biting into another fry and turned to them apologetically, “I’m sorry I get a lil bossy when I'm sleepy. You don’t have to stay the night if you don’t want to. I’m sure you want to go sleep in your own bed after being away for so long.” 

“No no, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be more than comfortable.” JJ answered easily. 

“Well alright, I have toothbrushes in the bathroom. Just let me know if you need anything.” Y/n finished off her ice cream and shimmied down below the covers. Emily and JJ quietly went into the bathroom. Emily was the first to make it back to bed, and as the bed dipped Y/n cracked an eye open to study the older woman. Emily hadn’t said very much of anything since they’d arrived. She seemed to be carrying a pretty heavy load that Y/n wasn’t privy to. but part of the younger woman could feel the tension radiating off her neighbors. She reached a hand out for the brunette and pulled her under the covers quietly. Y/n turned to face Emily with a sleepy smile. She kissed her temple sweetly and nudged her nose with her own before pulling the older woman into a hug. “I hope this helps.” the older woman shuddered a bit at her words and pulled Y/n tighter when she moved to let go. She held her until she felt her heart settle and once she let go, she placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

JJ returned and crawled into bed. She lay on her back first and watched as Y/n reached across her to turn the lamp off. Once in the dark she lay restless, trying to work up the courage to actually cuddle up to the younger woman like her body wanted. just as she had talked herself out of it, Y/n piped up, “Y’all wanna cuddle or what?”

That seemed to finally break the heaviness that had been hanging over the agents and they both laughed and gazed at the professor sweetly.

Once their laughter died down, JJ felt Y/n pull her body against her chest. Turning to face her, JJ was surprised to see the woman’s eyes still closed. Y/n pillowed her head in her chest and allowed her fingers to run through her blonde waves. As JJ sighed and twined their legs together Y/n used her free hand to pull Emily's arm over her hip to rest on JJ’s. Both women sandwiched her between them with deep content sighs. As they relaxed against her body, Y/n figured she’d gotten it right. She kissed JJ’s forehead sweetly and whispered a sleepy goodnight to both women and allowed sleep to take over. It took JJ and Emily a bit to actually fall asleep but when they did it was one of the best nights they’d had in a while. 

[powerfultenderness]

Return

Summary: König misses his neighbor and pathetically eagerly waits for you to return. Paring: König/F!Reader Rated: T+ Word count: 1319 Notes: [More neighbor König] As always, König speaking German is in "italics".

In all his fantasies, you were always there when he came back home. He’d come home still covered in sweat and grime and you wouldn’t even care, you’d just run up and hug him. Then you’d fuss over him, insist that he eat something that you were keeping warm just for him. And he'd lead you back to his room and he'd eat what he really wanted.

But things were never quite like his fantasies. Instead of you waiting for him at the top of the stairs, you were gone. He only left for a few days, a meeting with executives nothing more, but he still couldn't wait to get back home and see you. The day he landed, you sent him a text saying that you would be away for a few days. There was a death in your brother-in-law's family and instead of making the kids miss a week of school, your sister asked you to stay with the kids. 

He sighed as he washed dishes. Usually, if you ate dinner together (which was more often than not these days), you would do the dishes together too. It turned the task from something boring and tedious to something exciting and even fun. He’ll never forget the night that dishes turned into a little soapy splash war while you were wearing a white blouse. Sure you went home shortly after, a little embarrassed and keeping your arms crossed over your chest, but that only fueled his dreams even more. He went to sleep imagining that the pillow under his head was instead your soft chest.

For a moment he wondered if he could sneak into your flat (as much as one sneaks when they have a key!) and sleep in your bed, surrounded by your scent and warmth. He didn't. He thought about it, a lot, but he didn't want to break the trust you put in him when you gave him your spare key. Nor could he bear the thought that you'd think less of him. 

So he did the next best thing. He slept with his nose pressed into the blanket that you usually wrapped around you when you complained that he kept his flat a little too cold. 

On Tuesday he tried calling you after work, but you were busy with the various after school activities the kids had, so the conversation was short. “Welcome back! I missed you too! I’ll be back Friday night. Gotta go, g’night!” 

At least he got to hear your voice. 

He tried to text you on Wednesday, but by the time you answered, he was already starting to get tired and the conversation fizzled out pretty quickly. 

He slept with the pillow that you usually leaned on that night. It wasn’t the same, he wasn’t even sure if he could actually still smell you or if it was just his imagination. But it reminded him of you, so he held it close in his sleep.

He could hardly sit still Friday, impatient enough to raise a few eyebrows when he rushed home as soon as he could, as if that would make you get home any faster. No, he just didn’t want to miss you, he hadn’t seen you in so long that he needed to spend as much time with you as possible.

Should he question when and how he became this attached to his neighbor? Probably, yes. But he wasn’t going to, not when his phone just lit up with a text from you saying that you were on the way home. 

Then he froze, his heart hammering in his chest as he realized that he hadn’t changed out of his work clothes. He cursed under his breath and rushed through a shower, he even shaved the five o’clock shadow off his chin. He paced around his room so much trying to decide how “casual” he should look that he practically air dried.

An alert on his phone told him that someone had just set off the motion detector he set up in the stairway. (He'd take it down later!) And he rushed to finish dressing. Simple gray sweats and a black t-shirt. He hesitated when his hands hovered over his makeshift mask but when he heard footsteps in the hall he grabbed it and hastily threw it over his head, at least he could hide any embarrassing faces he'd make. 

He managed to pause and catch his breath before he opened the door, seeing you standing in front of your door with your keys in hand. 

You only had the door unlocked, not even opened yet, when König emerged from his flat, your name a cheerful exclamation on his lips. 

“König!” You laughed as he quickly gathered you in his arms. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hood pushed up so that his lips were pressed into your skin as he mumbled something in German. You were grateful for how many cognates German and English shared, you figured he was saying something about you coming home. 

“Ok! Ok!” You laughed again as you wiggled in his arms. “Let me put my things inside!” 

“No! No!” He shook his head, face still pressed to your neck. “If you leave  again you won’t come back!” 

“Then come inside with me!” You protested with a giggle. 

He nodded and leaned down just enough to grab your bag in one hand, the other securely placed on your back. You wrapped your legs around him when you realized he had no intention of putting you back on your feet. “You act like I’m the one that went off to war!” 

“You were gone long enough.”

“It was a week!” Admittedly by the end of the week you were eager to get home and just as eager to see König again. 

He carelessly dropped your bag by the door and locked it behind him before you carried you to the couch, where he laid you down and climbed on top of you. “Like I said,” he once again buried his face in the crook of your neck, “too long.” 

“You,” you shifted beneath him, allowing the two of you to get more comfortable, König ended up with his head resting on your chest, your heartbeat lulling him into an easy relaxed state. “-are acting like a big baby.” You finished with a chuckle.

König hummed and looked up at you, resting his chin between your breasts, “you are good at taking care of babies. Will you take care of me?” 

You let out a sharp laugh that you tried to hold back, giggling at his absurdity. When you finally had your laughter under control, you met his eyes again. He was looking up at you reverently, like you were about to say something profound. You just smiled sweetly at him, “only if you promise to always come home to me.” 

He nodded quickly, “I promise.” 

“Good.” 

“Good.” He nodded again and went back to resting his head on your chest.

“Ok, now get up.” You nudged him, though he didn’t budge. 

“Already breaking your promise, my love?” 

You rolled your eyes and nudged him again, “noo. Just suggesting we move to my room, it’d be more comfortable.” 

König paused before he finally pushed himself up, “yea ok, you’re right.”

Even as he stood, he didn’t let go of you, pulling you up with him and keeping his arms around you as you led him to your room. 

As he slipped into bed behind you, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you close, it felt so easy to drift off to sleep, the anxiety that had been gnawing at him all week gone in what felt like an instant. 

Even as your presence lulled him to sleep, he knew what it was. He’d been back for a week but it finally felt like he was home.

End Notes: This was a totally unplanned chapter, but I'll write what I can these days.

[Neighbor!König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): 

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 @wybwtjmiadz @ghonigsloverbabe @thatmusedhatter @grassclippers @skystreamchan @lordlydragon @luvecarson @thetestsubject666 @mafer383 @darkangel4121 @puppylikethedog  @trashitytrashitytrash @teapartydreams 

[astermath]

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: robin falls head over heels for the cool girl renting horror movies at family video. steve can’t believe her awkward shyness is actually landing her a date, but he’s happy for her nonetheless.

word count: idk kinda short lol under 1K

notes: just wanted to write a little blurb, then it turned into something else, so enjoy this short little meet cute with robin ♡

normal sized font below!

Robin really is that love at first sight kinda girl.

She’s the type of girl to be busy sorting tapes at family video, when you walk in, all pretty femininity and mysterious aura around you. And suddenly she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She doesn’t know where she is, why she’s there, hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell you her name if she asked.

She doesn’t stop staring at you, not when you enter and not when you walk over to the horror section to pick something out. Only when Steve nudges her in her side, she snaps out of it, looking more flustered than ever.

“Dude, can you not?”

“Sorry man, it just— looked like you were falling asleep with your eyes open! What’s with you anyways?”

Robin doesn’t respond, simply averting her eyes to the cash register and hoping Steve doesn’t pry any further.

Which would have worked, if you weren’t talking to her right now.

“I’m sorry, can I—“

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, you can…” Robin trails off, realising she hasn’t even let you finish your request. Her own eagerness embarrasses her to no end, her face heating up and her cheeks now closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

To her surprise, you giggle. You’re not awkward about it at all, which somehow makes her fall for you even harder.

“I was gonna ask what the latest time would be when I’d be able to return this.” you smile, and the blonde girl is certain it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Oh! Yeah, totally, no problem! It’s uh— a great choice, by the way. I love friday the 13th, sooo good, all that horror stuff, a huge fan—“

“A week.” Steve interrupts her rambling.

“Huh?” Robin turns to her friend.

“To answer her question, since you’re too busy being head over heels over here.”

You chuckle again, and Robin genuinely thinks her head is going to explode. Not only is her best friend making fun of her in front of you, but you’re not even making her feel bad about it. It’s like you find it cute or something. How crazy is that?

“Cool, I’ll just uh,” you hold up the tape, “rent this one then.”

Robin rings you up, her hands moving faster than her mind, and she hopes you don’t notice the slight shakiness in them. It’s not every day the prettiest girl in the whole world shows up at her job, so she’s not exactly prepared.

“Thanks,” you take the tape from her along with the receipt, your fingers touching slightly when she slides them over. Now you’re the one who’s getting the butterflies.

“So, you said you were a fan of horror movies?”

Robin nods enthusiastically, while Steve has to bite his tongue to hold back from saying that that’s the biggest lie ever. Robin isn’t a coward, not at all, but she’s the worst at scary movies. She’s just saying all this to impress you. She doubts it’s working though.

“Well, I was gonna watch this alone, but…” you grab a pen off the counter and scribble down your number on the receipt. “If you feel like watching it together, give me a call…” you pause to read her name tag. “Robin.” You smile again. “Nice name.”

“T-Thanks! You uh, you too!”

“Thanks, even though I… Haven’t told you yet.” You write your name down next to the number. “Now you know.”

“Huh…” She reads it over, not being able to keep herself from smiling like she’s sunshine incarnate. “That is a really nice name though.”

You grin, grabbing the tape off the counter and stuffing it in your bag. “Well, Robin, I’m free this Friday, if you wanna take me up on the offer.” You start walking backwards and give her a quick wave. “See y’around.”

She waves back, although more hesitant. Frankly, she’s still processing the entire encounter, and the fact that you’re real. Someone as beautiful as you exists, talked to her, even gave her your number. She didn’t know a reality like that was possible.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Steve scoffs in disbelief, though he’s pretty stoked for Robin all in all. He wants his friend to find her special person as much as he does for himself.

“Yeah,” she stares as you walk off, “me too.”

The freckled girl groans loudly and drops her head into her hands. “Why the fuck did I say any of that? Why do I always just keep talking?”

“I don’t see the big deal Buckley,” her coworker leans against the counter, “you got your date, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but then what? Then what do I do? I might have been able to charm her with my awkward idiocy this time, but what if we watch the movie and she finds out I’m a huge wuss!” She gestures around wildly with her hands, earning a confused stare from one of the older customers.

“This is going to sound so stupid, and I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he runs his hand through his brown locks, “but just like, be yourself? She seems nice enough, I’m sure she won’t judge you for being a total scaredy cat.”

“Not helping, Harrington.” She gives him a defeated look.

“Sorry, you know what I mean.”

“But what if she does?”

“What?”

“What if she does judge me? I mean jesus Steve, I wouldn’t blame her! She’s like— way out of my coolness league! She’s practically doing charity work watching a movie with me.”

Steve scoffs. “Don’t sell yourself short, Buckley, you’re plenty cool. Besides, if she does judge you, then clearly she’s not worth it. But again, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, already picturing her holding onto you in fear of a completely fictional serial killer. “I guess you’re right.” She goes quiet for a moment, before she’s back to daydreaming about the whole scenario. The two of you on your couch, shoulders touching, maybe an arm around her, hands brushing when you reach for the popcorn, all that sappy stuff…

“Buckley?”

Maybe you’d find it cute that she gets scared. Maybe you’d wanna protect her. She gets that vibe from you, that you’d keep her safe from all the Freddy Kruegers and Jason Voorhees of the world.

“Robin!”

Steve snaps her out of her daydreaming, gesturing towards Keith who’s about to enter the store.

“You two organise those tapes like I asked you to?” Their manager isn’t even looking at them, struggling with putting away his car keys.

Robin swipes the tapes off the counter and stuffs them randomly into the two boxes. That’s a problem for later.

“Yup! All sorted! Good thing I love organising stuff!” She laughs awkwardly, and Steve is fighting for his life trying not to laugh.

She’s got bigger things to worry about right now. Like what to wear for her date with you. And what kind of snacks you like to eat with your movies. And how she’s going to explain that the scariest thing she can handle is Frankenweenie.

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 2

Summary: After seeing your text, Negan tries to use your mistake for his own benefit, but what will happen when you find out?

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being a manipulative little fucker

Word Count: 4.4k

Link to Chapter 1

Negan remembers the first time he saw you. Morning meeting. September. While everyone else looked hungover or as if they considered driving off a cliff before getting there, you were chipper than a goddamn chipmunk.

He debated trying to swoon the newbie right then and there but Negan knew it would be a lost cause since you were obliviously surrounded by his very own Legion of Doom. Rosita, Aaron, Alden. Hell, even the grunting janitor was hanging around you.

And so he waited.

The shit part was what he thought would be a brief wait until the faculty meeting was over, stretched into days, then weeks and eventually months. Not that he was banking on getting you anyways, the staff was a vast ocean and many fish were practically begging to be on his rod.

He learned your name in the passing conversations of other teachers, was told you taught English and put you on the to do list, knowing he’d get around to it at some point.

What Negan didn’t expect was for you to seek him out. Sure, you weren’t the first to and most certainly wouldn’t be the last but this was the first time someone sought him out to unknowingly shit talk him.

Well, you most definitely knew you were shit talking. All you didn’t know was that you were doing it to his face. 

It was funny when you realised, trying to put up a professional front despite how pink your face was getting. It was nice though. Refreshing. Not another woman coming over to flirt. You were hard headed yet bashful. Another nosey fuckin’ gossip but you had an ounce of humility which was new for Alexandria High. 

It gave him a new objective; try to beat his personal record of getting under someone’s skin. 

Whether that be in a hot and bothered kinda way or general annoyance, he didn’t mind. That’s what made him walk into your classroom later that day, so boldly telling you that you were on detention duty. 

He knew that would piss you off and as he yelled at some spotty teens the next morning, he kept a special eye out for his new favourite English teacher, just waiting for you to storm up to him and go on some rant about making you cover his shift. 

Negan had a viable excuse as to why he couldn’t do it, he was busy doing other things. Well, Amber, to be more specific. 

Sitting in his small office with his feet propped up on the desk, Negan busies himself with the latest monotonous game he’s downloaded onto his phone. Without so much as a knock, the other Coach Smith, Mark, walks in. 

“Packed and ready! I was thinking of pulling a sickie for Thursday and Friday and laze around the house before the family and I jet off next week…” Mark begins and Negan simply hums in response, drowning out his colleague’s vacation plans.

After about five rounds of Negan’s game, he gets a nudge to the foot. “But you’ll be real busy, eh?” Mark laughs, oblivious to how little Negan was paying attention “Y’know, I think it would be a big success if you both convince Gregory to dress up as Santa… although knowing him, he’d probably want some of the ladies to sit on his knee”. 

Mark shivers at the image before zipping up his bulky coat, as if that would stop his imagination. “Why the fuck would Gregory be dressed as Santa?” Negan laughs “And what would that have to do with me?”.

Finally, he puts down his phone.

Mark shrugs “Just throwing out some ideas for the Christmas party, oh– and make sure to take some pictures of it! I want to see everything from my sun lounger on the sandy beaches of Jamaica”.

“I’ll ask again,” Negan tries not to get annoyed “what the fuck does all that have to do with me?”.

And then Mark says it. The words that would haunt Negan.

“Haven’t you checked the group chat?”.

Negan didn’t take much notice of the group chat, one that he never even asked to be added to in the first place. He’s never been bothered enough to text a message in and just skims through it every once in a while when he’s diabolically bored.

The next ten minutes, Negan spends alone, muttering to himself as he scrolls through the messages. 

Stupid fuckin’ Gregory trying to rock shit that shouldn’t be rocked. Same goes for Eugene and his shitty fuckin’ weekend getaway idea. Negan would prefer that over Gregory’s though, considering a city visit means a much broader pond for him to fish in. Although the Kingdom has never failed in the past, the restaurant’s dim lighting and loud music make most gal’s up for it.

But then he got to Mark’s message. Or, ‘blessing’ would be more fitting, considering he gave the go ahead for the sports hall to be used for the staff party.

Like fuck they were going to get wasted in his fucking sports hall. Do they really think he’s that stupid? Negan’s fucking office is beside the hall and with a bunch of depressed, drunk teachers right next door, his place would actually become a ‘fucking office’ but full of the wrong people. 

And for Mark of all people to offer up the hall, while he’ll be away tanning himself in Jamaica? Talk about friendly fuckin’ fire. 

It would be nice to have been considered in this shit. Fuck Mark. And fuck that disingenuous thumbs up emoji too. Oh, and fuck the very idea of this Christmas party being on his turf. 

Just as Negan is about to turn off his phone, he sees it. Out of all the people to volunteer for a last minute collab, you so eagerly offer to help? Negan smirks, running his tongue along his bottom lip. 

“You are something else” He mutters to himself, fiddling with his phone as he figures out how to properly save you as a contact. 

As far as Negan is concerned, there’s only two options. Either a gun was held to your head and that’s why you offered to help him, or… maybe, just maybe… the day before was your own funny little way of flirting. Negan prefers that option.

Typing out a contact name for you, he adds in some detail. It’s tough remembering each person, especially when he’s already ghosting so many and thus, the more detail added to jog his memory, the better. 

Next to your name he adds a set of brackets: (good ass, weird at flirting).

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You stay off your phone until late afternoon, unable to bear the thoughts of looking at that godforsaken group chat.

You hoped the group chat would help your socialising skills, especially after the move to a new town. You can’t even remember the last time you went out with friends, mainly because you’d need friends to do that. 

Moving away from your family to this small town was supposed to be the new beginning you see in tv shows, full of quirky characters, constant but unimportant drama and an array of hunky love interests. Instead you have Carol, a Christmas party to plan and a gym teacher that hates your guts. 

A part of you hoped that if you just ignored your apparent request to help with the Christmas party, then it would all fade away. But the swarm of teachers at lunch gave you quite the reality check. 

“Will there be a dinner provided? Or just finger food?”.

“I heard Gregory’s dressing up as Santa, do we have to sully Father Christmas’ name with something like that?”.

“Are you sure having it next Friday is a good idea? I mean, it’s the kids last day of term so they’ll be running riot! How will we be able to enjoy ourselves after dealing with that all day?”.

“Will there be tequila?”.

When the bell rings for classes to begin again, you hurry off as fast as you can, promising to have answers to everyone’s question… eventually.

You rush in and glance at the empty chairs, relieved that your students haven’t arrived yet. But when your eyes shift to your desk, you freeze.

“Jesus fu-“ you manage to stop yourself before the curse comes out.

Your body goes rigid as the shock overrides you, unsure whether this will be a showdown or simply another bickering match. Subconsciously gripping your small lunch bag, you hesitantly walk nearer to him.

Negan sits there with a wide grin, satisfied that he caught you off guard. 

Quickly recuperating, you try to up your confidence as you move closer to your desk, giving him a stern look. “If you’re here to ask me to cover more of your detention shifts, then you’re out of luck” you keep your voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to add to his smugness.

“You didn’t have a problem doing it last time” Negan teases with one of those easy going smiles, standing from his seat so you can sit.

You don’t justify that with a response, shooting him another badly hidden glare as you sit and set your things onto your desk.

Keeping his stride, Negan swoops up your lunch bag and begins searching it’s content.

“Hey!” You exclaim, debating whether you should stand and take it off him. The image of him holding it just out of reach pops into your head and to avoid a humiliating re-enactment of that, you stay seated.

“Hmph, sandwich,” he shrugs, eyes lingering on your lunch “oooh and a half eaten blueberry muffin! Now that looks tasty as shit”.

You bite back a huff. “Tasty as shit?” You question, wondering if you should take offence. 

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles flippantly, setting your lunch bag down but keeping the muffin.

As much as you want to badger him with questions as to why he’s here, you know that’ll inevitably lead to him hanging around longer. So, you stay quiet. You don't try to make conversation, simply organising your notes for your next class and ignoring his presence. If he’s come into your classroom then he can state his business, not wait for you to try and pull it out of him. 

Besides, maybe he’s like a poltergeist and if you ignore him long enough then might disappear. 

With his mouth full of your blueberry muffin, Negan taps one of the folders on your desk. “Are these all your big ideas for the Christmas Party?” he asks. 

Pressing your lips together, you muster up your professional front. “Actually, Negan, about that…” you start “it’s a big misunderstanding, I never technically agreed to help with the Christmas party, I was just replying to Sherry’s question in the group chat. So, you’ll have to find someone else to help you plan it”.

You give a big grin, unable to hide the slight joy it gives you to leave him in the lurch. 

Negan meets your smile with one of his own, leaning down so he’s eye level. His tone is just as patronizing as you expect “Naawww, honey, that bullshit excuse won’t fly”.

You don’t back down. Like a child, you mimic his tone “It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth and obviously a simple miscommunication, something you’d know if you actually read the texts”.

Negan studies you for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. He may not know you but he knows exactly what you are.

Negan chuckles under his breath, knowing full well that if he’d been in high school with you, he’d have to find a way to coax you away from your perfect little study sessions.

You’d be the type that would give him a disapproving look if he didn’t do his homework. The one that would hesitate to ditch classes because you want to be a goody two shoes and not rock the boat. Hell, you’d probably try to talk him into going back to class after he swoons you behind the bleachers. 

If there’s one thing Negan knows he can count on, it’s your honesty. Despite what he says, he’s aware you’re not the type to bullshit. He found that out first hand yesterday.

Your comment about him floats back into his memory and he has to wiggle his jaw to loosen it.

”I mean, from what I've heard, her side of the bed wasn't even cold and he was already crawling into the beds of other women” your words echo in his head.

You definitely caught him off guard with that one but it’s not like he can be mad when it’s true. Your damn honesty is annoying, Negan is sure about that.

So when you’re adamant it’s a mistake, Negan does actually believe you… but that doesn’t mean he can’t use this to his advantage.

“Miscommunication, huh?” Negan taunts, trying to goad you “well, in case none of your gossip buddies filled you in yet, Ol’ Greg will be like a goddamn sore on your ass if you try to sell him that excuse. Just a little FYI for ya”.

You scoff. It’s all right there in black and white, anyone who reads all the texts can see you didn’t mean to volunteer for this shit. The only reason no one is admitting that is because you’ve become the scapegoat, thrown forward to work with this jackass.

Still, the stubbornness in you outweighs your willingness to do this just so everyone else is off the hook. Any semblance of a petty smile leaves your face and is replaced by a pout.

Negan holds your gaze, his deep brown eyes twinkling with a playful glint as he takes another bite of muffin. His eyes sparkle with seductive mischief, as if to communicate what his lips (and full mouth) can’t.

“Well, FYI for you,” your words cut through the air, direct and sharp “No, I’m not bullshitting anyone. No, I am not helping you. And no, I am not giving you my number so stop with the eyes!”.

Negan chews thoughtfully.

There’s a genuine smile tracing his lips by the time he swallows. “Jesus, sweetheart, I didn’t even mention getting your number and you’re already aching to give it to me,” he lets out a low chuckle, running his tongue along his bottom lip as you scowl. 

“What? No, that’s not - ugh, that’s not what I meant” you ramble as he swallows more of your muffin.

“Don’t worry, I got some good news on that front,” he pauses for dramatic effect “I already got your number and, I don’t even think you’re bullshitting with that super weak excuse!”.

A wave of confusion washes over you, your mind scrambling to make sense of what he just said. Your heart skips a beat as you blink rapidly, trying to process it all but the confusion only deepens.

“W-what— how?! No, you can’t—“ you stutter “you have my number?”.

“That’s not the important part right now, honey” Negan shrugs casually, standing up straight “what’s important is how I’m trying to warn ya, y’gotta be strategic if you’re gonna tell Gregory you’re not interested in doing this party shit”.

A steady stream of students begin to filter in, giving you both curious looks before sitting. Negan pays no attention to them.

Now that they’re others around, you lower your voice “What? We’re not moving on from you having my phone number!”.

“Anyways, I see you got shitheads to teach,” Negan doesn’t lower his voice as he looks around at the students “so I’ll leave you to it, but why don’t you swing by my office when the day is done? I think I’ll be able to help you get out of this party shitshow. Sound good? Great”.

With a wink, Negan doesn’t wait for an answer and disappears out the door, taking the rest of your muffin with him.

Your jaw clenches, already knowing what your student’s faces will look like once they register that you’ll be seeing Negan later, outside of work hours. 

The room falls silent as whispers start to swirl. Some of the kids exchange knowing glances, others raise their eyebrows and a few stifle giggles. The students are eating it up, practically salivating over the scandalous idea of you being Negan’s latest pursuit.

You rub your temple, wishing you could just get the day over with. The unfortunate part is that you’re starting to grow used to Negan’s antics, but the curious looks and murmurs? That’s something you absolutely do not want to become a common occurrence.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to focus and start your lesson. Thankfully, everyone kicks into learning mode pretty easily and the murmuring fades to nothing.

The rest of your classes go by in a blur, mindlessly spouting off Shakespeare as the kids try to decipher what the hell any of it is supposed to mean while you wonder if you should go to Negan’s office after school. 

As much as you hate to admit it, Negan has a point. Deep down, you know he’s right about Gregory. The man’s a stickler and he never forgets—or forgives—anything. No matter how much you try to explain that you didn’t mean to volunteer for the Christmas party, Gregory will hold a grudge. And that’s the last thing you need, especially this early in your job.

You can practically hear him in your head now, his clipped tone passive-aggressively accusing you of not being a team player, of not taking your responsibilities seriously. The thought sends a knot of dread into your stomach.

You want to stay stubborn and insist this was all just a mistake, but is it worth the trouble it could bring? Planning a Christmas party with Negan couldn’t be that bad… right?

You’ve already worked so hard to fit in and make a good impression. Pissing off someone like Gregory is like kicking a wasp’s nest on purpose. He won’t confront you directly; he’ll just sting you with a thousand tiny jabs. Negan’s been around much longer than you, at this point he’s practically a veteran at this place. And hopefully, he’s got some kind of way with Gregory.

Of course, taking up Negan’s offer to help is the last thing you want to do. You don’t trust him as far as you could throw his lanky ass.

Yet somehow you still find yourself outside of his office after school, debating whether you should enter his lair or run while you still can. Staring at the office door, you gulp as you read the bold “COACH SMITH” sign on the opaque matte glass. There’s a fraction of you that’s hopeful you got it wrong again and this is Mark Smith's office.

You hesitate, raising your hand to knock before faltering again and dropping your arm back down to your side. 

“Just cause the glass is frosted, don’t mean I can’t see you” his voice makes you stiffen momentarily before your shoulders sag and you just open the door. 

A broad, mischievous grin greets you. Negan sits as though he’s the student, not the teacher. His chair teeters on its back legs, while his long legs are casually propped up on the desk.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says it like he’s in on a secret joke “you wanna lock the door behind you?”.

Your face contorts in a mix of disbelief and shock. “Uh, no!” you exclaim, your expression saying it all.

Negan shrugs, laughing “A voyeur, huh? I can get behind that”.

You can feel the annoyance creeping up inside of you, like a slow burning sizzling under your skin. “Y’know I am this close to reporting you for sexual harassment,” you retort “and you owe me a muffin!”.

Raising his hands in faux surrender, Negan tries to turn on his charm “Damn it, sweetheart, here I am trying to help you out and you’re threatening to report me? Take it easy, sit, I know this whole Gregory shitstorm must have you stressed out”.

Hesitantly taking up his offer, you sit across from him. “So?” you ask “what wisdom do you have to bestow on me?”.

You watch Negan pucker his lips slightly to keep himself quiet, already thinking of another innuendo he could bestow upon you.

Swaying back on his chair, Negan says “Well, I was thinking of that saying, the one that goes like 'the best party is the one that never happens'". 

You scrunch up your face, not following his line of thinking. “That’s not a saying” you point out.

Letting his legs fall off the desk, he leans across the desk, getting down to business. “It should be, though,” Negan admits before clearing his throat “look, here’s the bottom line, you shouldn’t be wasting your time trying to stop yourself from helping out with the party. Y’gotta stop the party entirely”.

Now you’re even more lost.

You know Gregory will be annoyed when he hears you don’t want to volunteer, so you can only imagine how frustrated he’ll be if you actively campaign to cancel the teacher’s supposed one night of fun.

“I’ll back you up… partially,” Negan mutters the last part under his breath but you still hear it. Your expression shifts to a deadpan stare. A part of you wonders if this is his final pay back for your badmouthing.

"I swear, you’re actually trying to get me fired" you say, clearly annoyed.

Negan’s smirk says it all and yet he still tries to convince you "Me? I’m just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart. Trust me. I’ve seen it all. You plan a Christmas party, next thing you know, teachers are too drunk to think, they all end up sobbing or fucking, someone gets hurt and boom—the whole thing’s on your head. Cancelling it now? That’s just smart planning".

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and stand “You’re unbelievable”.

He grins “I try”.

You turn to leave but the frustration builds. You spin back around, exasperated. “And why can’t you just tell Gregory this yourself? You have to help with the party too!”.

And then it clicks. You scoff in disbelief. Negan doesn’t want the hassle of being the one to oppose the Christmas party. He’d rather sit back, let you take the heat, and still get his way.

Crossing your arms, you watch him closely as you comment “Bet ya can’t wait for everyone to be in the sports hall, huh?”.

Much to your amusement, Negan has a terrible poker face. His mouth immediately turns downwards, eyebrows drawn together as his jaw stiffens “Oh yeah, can’t wait for everybody to be in my hall”.

A sly smile quickly appears on your face, eyelids at half mast as you purposefully wait for Negan to look your way again. When he does, he grumbles “What?”. 

“Gotcha,” you says with the raise of your eyebrows, smile getting even wider “you hate doing this, don’t you?”.

Negan scoffs “You’re the one with your panties in a twist over doing this party, not me”. 

You roll your eyes, smile still on your face and leaving Negan’s attempts to goad you simply slide off of you. You give a small laugh “Damn, Mr Big Shot, why won’t you tell Gregory you don’t wanna do this?”.

He narrows his eyes at you but you don’t let that deter you. “You scared of little ol’ Gregory?” you taunt playfully, knowing that should be enough to irk him. 

Sticking his index finger in your direction, Negan retorts “Watch it, don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to wind me up”. 

You laugh, shaking your head. With his shoulders square, Negan lets out a tight huff “I’m trying to do you a favour here, doll. You don’t want this extra shit on your plate, believe fuckin’ me”.

“I don’t want this extra shit or you don’t?”.

Standing to full height, Negan’s office chair rolls backwards and bounces against one of the filing cabinet. “You know what, I tried to warn you,” he tries to sound sincere “you want to dive straight into the deep end and go along with this party, that’s your fuckin’ problem. I’ll leave my office door open for when you come crying to me about all this”.

“Oh you don’t need to leave your door open, you’re helping plan this party too,” you have a cheery tone as you remind him, a sense of satisfaction filling you “unless you want me to plan the party with Coach Joey instead. One of you coaches will have to be involved if we’re using the sports hall”.

Negan flexes his jaw for a moment. “First off, don’t even call Fat Joey a goddamn coach, he’s a glorified intern. And he doesn’t get a say on what happens on my turf” he corrects you “and secondly… damn sweetheart, you’re petty enough to plan this party just to piss me off?”.

Grabbing the door, you swing it open with a little too much gusto. But who could blame you when your patience has completely worn out with this jackass? Trying to keep your mock cheeriness going, you give him your best jolly glare “I guess I am, yeah”.

Negan chuckles, meeting your glare with one of his own. “Fine then,” he concedes “you want to plan a fuckin’ Christmas party? Then let’s plan a party”.

There's a slight sinking feeling in your gut but you refuse to back out now, not wanting to give Negan the satisfaction. Turning on your heels, you walk out, your head reeling by what has just happened. Negan stays standing as you go, a slight smirk on his face.

You’re petty, stubborn, honest to a fault and as far as Negan’s concerned, you got balls bigger than most of the men at this damn school.

next chapter here!

———

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Okay, fuck it Friday! Thanks for the tags @forthewolves @lover-of-mine @devirnis @rewritetheending @daffi-990! Here is a silly little fic I’m adding to the soft prompts collection!

Eddie pats down his jacket, making sure his wallet hasn’t magically teleported out of it in the hour or two since he took it off.

“The mint kind, dad, remember.”

“I got it.”

There’s the sound of glass clattering in the kitchen, ringing as loud as the laughter that accompanies it. In the living room there’s sudden cheering as one of the kids gets ahead of another in whatever video game they’ve set up. Beside him, Chimney is counting on his fingers.

“It’s-Its, mint kind. Drumsticks. Rocket pops. Bobby wants neapolitan. Those caramel chocolate bar things for Hen and Karen.”

“Are you going to have room in your freezer for all this?” Eddie wonders, thinking about how packed his own freezer is. He should really clean it out. Maybe Buck’ll come over next day off and help. He loves leftovers, and organizing.

“I’m fully expecting everyone to eat themselves sick so it won’t be a problem,” Chim shrugs. “Rocky road for you, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.” Chimney squints. “I can’t remember what Buck said.” He squints more specifically in Eddie’s direction, clearly waiting for a response.

And Eddie could say Well, Buck cycles through ice cream favorites every few weeks because he likes to try new things. It’s been white chocolate raspberry recently, but he might be ready to switch it up, it’s been long enough, and the kind he likes is sort of expensive so he would never ask you to get it for him, but that feels like the kind of statement that would get him that sort of raised eyebrow flat mouth look he doesn’t understand so he goes with “Uh, I’ll ask.”

Buck is leaning on the counter sandwiched between Hen and Bobby, half full drink in his hand entirely forgotten and listing a little dangerously to the left as he listens to Karen talk about a new project at work. He’s smiling like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and his eyes are wide in the way they get when he’s absorbed in a story, and Eddie doesn’t want to interrupt but his son has no such qualms.

“Buck, are you gonna come take your turn on mario kart? Nobody can beat May.”

Buck’s smile turns into his Christopher smile, wide and eyes crinkly. “I’ll be there in a minute, bud. Save rainbow road for me.”

“Buck, what ice cream did you want?”

Buck’s attention flicks over to him. “Oh, I’ll just take one of the drumsticks or something.” A beat or two passes while Eddie makes an unimpressed face and Buck laughs, ducking his head. “Fine, I’ll- uh, if they have something coffee flavored that looks good I’ll take that.”

“Alright-“

“Oh, Eddie, while you’re there will you pick up more Doritos?” Maddie asks, waving cheesy fingers over an empty bowl.

“Sure.”

“Ooh, and barbecue chips?” Hen asks, head tilted to the side imploringly.

“Yeah, okay-“

“If you get an avocado or two I think there’s everything to make guacamole,” Bobby says thoughtfully.

“Uh-“

Buck grins at him. “I’ll text you a list.”

“Thank you,” Eddie grins back, and then turns to Chris. “Alright mijo, we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” Chris says. “And can you get butter popcorn?”

“They’ve got the kernel kind, and a popper and everything.”

“I like the microwave kind,” Chris says, pouting a little. “It’s a party, dad.”

Eddie snorts, but also immediately gives in. “Fine. See you in a minute with your nasty popcorn, sir.”

He leans down to kiss Chris' forehead, leans up to kiss Buck, pats his pocket one more time (wallet still there) and then heads down the hallway. Chimney is standing there frozen, so Eddie steps around him towards the door. He’s probably trying to think of his own chip preference, like he’s not as big of a Doritos fan as Maddie is. Eddie wonders if the corner store they’re going to will have the salt and vinegar chips Buck likes-

Buck-

Eddie feels a strange sensation like all his muscles locking up for a moment, before he slowly turns around.

“What did I… just… do?”

Chimney — who, there it is, he’s making the face, eyebrows raised and mouth flat, though it looks slightly more hysterical than usual — shakes his head and throws up his hands in a shrug. Helpful. Eddie stumbles the few steps back towards the kitchen. Buck is talking to Karen now, though everyone else in the room is also making the face with varying levels of giddy intensity. When Bobby sees Eddie come back in the room he has to hide his expression behind his glass of orange juice.

“-never knew that worms played such an important part in-“ Buck’s voice suddenly squeaks to a halt mid sentence, and he whips around to stare open mouthed at Eddie in the doorway. “Did- did you?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Is that- uh. Is that okay?”

“Y- yeah, Eddie- yeah.”

Buck moves towards him and Eddie is pulled in his direction like a magnet. They meet in the middle of the kitchen and grab each other’s hands. Eddie is vaguely aware of Maddie’s muffled giggling somewhere to his right, but it doesn’t seem to matter very much at the moment.

“Should-" Buck looks and sounds absolutely confused, and is clinging tight to his hands. "Should we get married?”

“What?” Eddie laughs, remembering the time he’d held Julia Stanton’s hand in kindergarten and she’d told him that meant they were husband and wife. “I- we only just-“ but, suddenly, he imagines it. Being married to Buck. Waking up to him every day, and doing taxes together. It’s all he wants, it’s what he wants more than anything. “Okay,” he says, nodding his head in a frantic yes. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Oh, lord,” Bobby laughs in the background, setting his glass on the counter so he can rest his hands on his knees. Hen rubs his back, other hand covering her face as she tries not to lose it.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, looking stunned, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Yes, I’d- I want- you’re beautiful.” Eddie lets go of one of Buck’s hands — oh, he thinks he’d like to hold his hand forever, why did they never do this before — and puts his palm on Buck’s cheek, tracing under his eye with his thumb. “I gotta go get ice cream first though.”

“Oh my god,” says Karen, voice strangled.

“I’ll go with you,” Buck decides, but then Chimney is there with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Oh no,” he says, “We let the two of you go and we’ll lose you in the night, and then there will be no ice cream and the children will riot.”

“You’re the one who was demanding drumsticks in the first place,” Eddie points out, not even looking away from Buck’s face.

“And I will join the mob with the pitchforks. Let’s go, lover boy.” Chimney leans over to pat Buck's arm. "I promise I'll get your- jesus, are we accepting that as an actual proposal- yeah? Okay- I'll get your fiancé back swiftly and in one piece."

Eddie can do nothing but grin dumbly back at Buck as Chimney all but drags him outside. There are stars out, sort of, as many as you ever get in a city as big as Los Angeles, and Eddie feels a strange urge to write poetry about them.

"Did you know I was in love with him?"

"Had a pretty good idea," Chim says, voice strained.

"Why didn't I know that?"

Chimney hacks a cough into his elbow. "I- I really couldn't possibly answer that."

It's taking Eddie a tremendous amount of effort to put one foot in front of the other in the right order. "I feel like I'm drunk."

Chimney claps him on the shoulder. "You're going through a lot of change."

Eddie thinks about it for a moment. "No, I'm not."

“Hm?”

Chimney spins around to face Eddie as he stops walking all together. “It’s… I mean, we might get to kiss now,” Eddie says, pulse suddenly feverish as he considers that for a few seconds. He shakes his head to get back on track. “But… It’s Buck. Haven’t… I mean… It’s always been like this. My life is his already.”

Chimney is making a new face now, still a smile but it’s twisted up sideways and his eyes are a little watery. He throws his head back with a wet scoffing sound and hooks his arm through Eddie’s, tugging him along again. “Well, what the fuck, I’m stupidly happy for you. Unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Eddie laughs, leaning into him a little. “Oh shit, I- I have to get a ring.”

Chimney cackles into his shoulder. “Might be a difficult find at the corner store, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

When they stagger through the doors of the 24 hour market a few blocks from Maddie and Chimney’s place the bored clerk looks at them like they are drunk, and Eddie tries to take a few steadying breaths. “I’ll get ice cream, you grab snacks?”

Chimney nods, and they split up. Eddie stares down at the freezer and tries to remember any list of anything he’s ever learned in his life before his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Buck 8:43 PM Mint It’s-Its, drumsticks, rocket pops, neapolitan, caramel bars, rocky road, coffee ice cream?, Doritos, barbecue chips, avocados (and tortilla chips please), microwave popcorn

Buck 8:44 PM also I didn’t say it but I love you Eddie

Buck 8:44 PM sorry I should have waited for you to get back to say it maybe but

Buck 8:45 PM I just wanted you to know it. I didn’t want there to be any more time where you didn’t know it.

Eddie’s breath catches somewhere between lungs and throat. He’s standing close enough to the freezer box that he can feel it’s hum in his knees, or maybe that’s just Buck.

“Hey, Diaz.”

Eddie turns in time to catch the small package Chimney tosses at him. Peach rings. Eddie laughs a little helplessly.

Eddie 8:47 PM i am going to be back so soon and tell you in person but me too buck

Eddie grabs all the ice cream in record time if anyone ever recorded the time for such things, and the rest of the trip feels like a race. He taps his foot as the poor clerk scans everything while shooting him vaguely unimpressed looks, and he’s at least a few feet ahead of Chimney the whole walk back. Finally, the door, finally the hallway, finally Eddie is bursting back into the kitchen. Buck is standing with Bobby’s arm around his shoulders and Chris leaning against his side and he looks lit up with happiness, smile practically glowing. Eddie feels an answering one on his own face.

“Here,” he says, holding the ice cream bag out sideways and hoping someone will take it. Karen does, with a snort. “Oh, uh, wait-“ Eddie leans over to dig for the bag of gummies, grabbing his prize and grinning at her. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she laughs, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before starting to dig out the ice cream for distribution.

When Eddie looks up Buck has moved to stand in front of him. “Hi.”

Buck ducks his head like his smile is too heavy to hold it up anymore. “Hi, Eds.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, taking the half step necessary to press close to him all over. “Hey, I love you. I love you, too. I didn’t realize, but I absolutely do.”

Buck laughs, what a wonderful sound, and wipes his eyes with one hand. “I love you so much, Eddie.”

“Okay!” Laughter goes up around them. “Okay, I have-“ Eddie tears open the plastic, fishes out a single peach ring. “It’s the best I could do short notice.”

“What…” Buck looks down at the candy, and then starts laughing and crying harder as Eddie grabs his hand and does his best to roll the gummy circle onto his ring finger. “Wait, I- I was the one who proposed.”

“There’s a whole bag of them,” Eddie says, waving it around. “You wanna-“

“Yeah, uh huh-“ Buck takes a peach ring of his own, slides it onto Eddie’s finger, and it’s truly ridiculous but even in this Buck treats him so gently, cradling Eddie’s hand like it’s a precious thing. It makes Eddie feel a little lightheaded. The sugar of the gummy is gritty against his skin, and he has to hold his fingers weird to accommodate the bulk of it, but Buck is looking at them like they’d just exchanged diamonds, and Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever been in a more perfect moment. But then Buck leans down and Eddie moves forward and they’re kissing, really kissing, Buck’s arms sliding around his waist like they’re meant to fit there and Eddie cradling his face between his hands, and Chris shouts in delighted disgust and there’s cheering and more laughter around them, and Eddie thinks, stunned, that he might get a life of perfect moments with this man.

They are surrounded by friends and family, so Buck pulls back before either of them can really get lost in each other. “You’re sure?” He whispers. “You don’t have to- I was just- you actually want to get married?”

“Yes,” Eddie says immediately. “And also come home, please. Every day, like- move in with me. You don’t have to use the couch.”

Chimney snorts behind them. Buck nods, and they’re close enough that his nose almost pokes Eddie in the eye. “Yeah, yeah- I wanna come home.”

Eddie kisses him again — perfect, the way their lips fit together is perfect — and then looks for Chris. “Hey, mijo, you wanna have a sleepover?”

“Sure,” Chris says, “With who?”

“Uh.” Eddie cranes to look around Buck at anyone else in the room.

“We’ll take him,” Hen says, raising a hand and looking extremely amused and entirely fond.

“With Denny,” Eddie says to Chris.

“Okay,” Chris says, crunching his face up. “I don’t want to be there if you’re going home to make out.”

“We absolutely are,” Eddie says, as Buck sputters a little. He disentangles himself from Eddie and crouches in front of Chris.

“Chris… I just want to make sure this is okay with you. I- I love your dad very much, and I love you so much, and if it makes you uncomfortable-“

“Buck,” Chris says, slightly exasperated, as he wraps his arms around his shoulders in a hug. “I love you, too. And I kind of thought you were married for awhile when I was little, so you’re just catching up.”

“Oh,” Buck says, watery. “Yeah?”

“You take care of us,” Chris says, leaning back to look at him. “And you’re at our house all the time.”

Buck laughs, and Eddie’s lungs stutter along with him. “Well, okay then. I’ll keep doing both of those things. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good,” Chris says, already looking towards the living room. “Are you going to play Mario kart, now?”

“Uh,” Buck says, looking up at Eddie. “Is it okay if I take a rain check on that?”

Chris heaves a sigh. “Fine, but you better practice for next time. May still hasn’t lost.”

“And I’m not going to!” She calls from the other room. “Also, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Buck and Eddie call together. Buck gives Chris another hug, and Eddie squeezes him tight as he makes his way to the living room.

“Bye, Superman. We’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Buck takes his hand again. Eddie wants to kiss him again, but he thinks once he starts he might never stop. “Anybody mind if we duck out early?” He asks the room at large, fully planning on backing out the door no matter what the answer is.

Chimney pats his arm. “Please for the love of god leave my home.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, pulling a giggling Buck towards the door.

“Paperwork!” Bobby calls. “Monday! And don’t get married until I can get everyone the day off!”

“I-“ Eddie looks into Buck’s eyes, kisses him once on the cheek because they’re in the hallway and no one can see them anymore probably. “I’m not gonna make any promises about that.”

“Wait-“

“Bye!” Buck calls, cheerfully, and then they’re out on the front porch.

And, well, they’re really out of sight of the others now, so Eddie pulls him down for another kiss, intent on finding out what his molars taste like, but then the door is opening again.

“Gross,” Chimney says. “Take your ice cream with you.”

Rocky road and coffee, still cold but getting warmer, land not entirely gracefully in Eddie’s arms. The door closes again. “I told him he wouldn’t have freezer room. These are gonna melt.”

Buck takes his tub, grinning a mile wide. “We better get home quick, then.”

“For the ice cream,” Eddie nods, cheeks hurting with his smile.

“Yep.” Buck says. “The ice cream.”

They clasp their free hands together, and then, breathless and laughing, run to the car.

It’s kind of late but if anyone is still around and has stuff to post (you could also consider this as being tagged for inspiration Saturday if you want) @callaplums @shortsighted-owl @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @bigfootsmom @henswilsons @homerforsure

[merrybloomwrites]

Little Things (Chapter 2)

Summary: It's time for you to leave the shelter to move into your new home with your doms, Harry and Louis. It's a tough transition, but the two of them are there to help you through it.

Word Count: 3.5K

CW: mentions of past abuse, dom/sub au dynamics, mentions of littlespace

Previous chapters: one

AN: Thank you to all who showed interest in the first chapter of this! I've had a lot of ideas in mind for this story and I'm happy to finally be sharing them.

This wasn't supposed to get posted until next Friday but I got impatient and I make the rules, so here it is now! Also I'm finishing the third chapter right now, which is finally all about reader going into little headpsace, and will probably post that tomorrow

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

You sit in your room at the shelter, trying not to stress over what just happened. Ms. Emily had brought you to her office where you met two men, two doms named Harry and Louis who were married. She had explained they were looking to adopt a sub. More specifically, they wanted to adopt a little.

And while you technically fell into that category, you knew they wouldn’t want you. Doms looking for littles want someone who is in headspace a lot. And you never slip if you can help it. 

You’ve only gone into your littlespace three times since you were rescued. Ms. Emily was there each time, and she took care of you and always reassured you once you came back up, but you still didn’t like it. You felt like a burden, and you were scared of how you acted. You don’t feel like yourself when you slip. It’s like this whole other person takes over and you just have to watch as she basically possesses your body.

So yea, there’s no way these doms will choose you. Years of abuse have broken you, made you into a bad sub who’s unworthy of love and care.

The afternoon passes with you dwelling on these thoughts. 

Which is why you’re shocked to your core when Ms. Emily comes back and asks if you’d like to live with Louis and Harry. 

“They don’t want me,” you answer.

“Now why would you say that?” she asks.

“I’m not good enough. I’ll never be what they’re looking for. I can’t be.”

Emily wraps her arms around you, and you lean into her. It had taken a while for you to get comfortable with hugs, but she’d worked with you for weeks and now it doesn’t feel so weird. It feels kind of nice to be held by her. 

“Sweetheart,” she begins. “You are good enough. You are worthy of love, Y/N. And that’s what Harry and Louis want to give you.” 

“Wait, what?” You pull back enough to look her in the eyes and say, “What do you mean?”

She smiles and says, “They’d like to adopt you.”

“No way. Why would they choose me?”

“Well they were moved by your story-”

You cut her off to say, “So they know. They know how messed up I am. Do they just feel bad for me? Pity me?”

“No, honey. It’s not that. First of all, you are not messed up. You had a lot of messed up stuff happen to you, but you survived that. And they don’t pity you. But they do see someone deserving of a loving home, and that is what they have to offer.”

“They really want me?” you ask, needing to hear it again.

“Yes, Y/N. They want you. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t need any time to think it over. They met you and knew you were the match for them.” Tears fill your eyes as you listen to Emily. Never before had you been wanted. Your family hadn’t wanted you, the one sub amongst all the older dom siblings. They didn’t love you, just used you to fulfill their sick fantasies. 

But Louis and Harry. They want you. They’re choosing you. And though you’re scared, worried that you’ll disappoint them, hope begins to fill you. For the first time, you may have a true home. So when Ms. Emily asks you again if you want to live with them, you immediately say yes.

You don’t get to go with them right away though. They come back the next day to spend time with you and help you feel more comfortable with them. They’re kind, and gentle, and you like being with them. 

On Friday they come again and this time you leave the shelter with them to go to lunch. It’s weird being out in public, especially when they explain who they are and that they’re famous. This makes you feel nervous, but they reassure you that your safety and privacy is a top priority for them. 

One thing you notice is that they never tell you what to do. You’re always given choices, and they ask you questions, wanting to know your opinion. They let you choose the restaurant and allow you to pick anything off of the menu. 

And while it’s nice that they’re giving you freedom, it makes you a bit uncomfortable. It’s not in your nature to make so many decisions, and truthfully, it has you feeling fatigued. You wish that they’d tell you what to do, make the decisions for you. That’s the way it should be. They’re the doms, and you’re the sub. 

Back at the shelter that night you talk to Ms. Emily about those feelings. She says that you shouldn’t be afraid to tell them about your needs. That they’ll want to listen and do what is best for you. 

You spend the weekend preparing to leave the shelter for good, as you’ll be leaving Monday afternoon to go to Harry and Louis’ home. It’s weird to leave here, as it’s the first place you’ve ever felt safe. But you know that this has always been the goal. To find a permanent home, a family of your own. 

It’s sad saying goodbye to Ms. Emily, but she reassures you that she will keep in touch and you’ll still see her. She’s surprised when you go back for one more hug, but holds you tight for a moment and lets herself feel the pride at how far you’ve already come. 

The boys lead you to the car, where two other people wait. Louis introduces them as a driver and a security guard. You’re wondering if this is normal, and like he can read your mind, Louis adds, “We’re just being extra cautious today. It’s our first time being responsible for someone else, I hope you don’t mind us going a bit overboard.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” you reply.

“Well then, let’s get you home,” Harry says. The three of you slide in the backseat. You’re in the middle squished between the two. Before you can click in your seatbelt, you find Louis has grabbed it to do it for you. It’s a caregiver move for sure, and you once again hope they won’t be disappointed if you’re unable to be little in the way they want. 

It’s a quiet drive, and you sit as still as possible to not bring any attention to yourself. It’s something you’d learned growing up and it’s a hard habit to break.

Finally the car pulls into a long, gated driveway. Based on that, you’re expecting a huge mansion, but you’re pleasantly surprised to see a nice, cute, albeit fairly large, house. Big enough to hold a fair number of people, but not so enormous as to be overwhelming or garish. 

Harry leads you inside while Louis grabs your bag from the car. You stand just inside the doorway, looking around while waiting for instructions from your doms on what to do next, where you’re allowed to go.

It’s a relief when Louis says, “Let’s do a little tour, shall we?”

He and Harry lead you from room to room, starting with all the main spaces downstairs. There’s the living room, kitchen, dining room, library, den, laundry room, and two bathrooms. They also show you the door that leads out to the backyard, and they reassure you that it’s completely private. You peer at the high fence that surrounds the entire property, and for a second you feel uneasy. If something goes wrong, if they’re not as nice as they seem, you’ll be trapped. But you try to push those thoughts away. They’ve been nothing but kind. They’re nothing like your family. They won’t hurt you.

Next you’re led upstairs to be shown all the bedrooms. There’s two guest rooms, Harry and Louis’ room, and then they end with yours. It’s bigger than you’d expected, a large bed and a matching dresser and desk. There’s a bookshelf filled with a mix of novels and picture books. The more you look, the more you pick up on things that indicate this is a room for a little.

The dresser is low, and the top is soft, showing that it doubles as a changing table. There are toys suited for a young child. The bed has removable railings that can be put in place when you’re little to make sure you don’t fall out of bed. And then you notice the camera.

Harry sees you look at it with trepidation and says, “That will only be turned on when you’re little. The rest of the time we’ll keep it off so you can have privacy. It’s just to make sure you’re safe. Is that alright?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” you reply. It makes you more uncomfortable that he’s asking you for your opinion. He’s the dominant here, you’re the submissive. If they wanted to keep a camera on at all times that’s well within their right to do so. It’s strange to you that they keep giving you so many choices, and you wish they wouldn’t. 

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks, picking up on your discomfort.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply, not wanting to seem ungrateful by complaining.

“Why don’t we all sit and chat for a bit?” Harry says.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Would you be more comfortable here or in the living room?” he asks. 

Again with the choices. Even something as simple as that is weighing on you. Before you can control it you’re shouting out, “Please stop!” 

Immediately you’re horrified by your outburst. You’d misbehaved, surely you’re going to be punished, or maybe even sent back. You couldn’t even last an hour without ruining it. You look up in horror and begin to apologize, saying, “I’m sorry. Sir, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t- I don’t know what that was. Please, don’t send me back, I’ll be better.” 

The room is silent for a moment, no one knowing how to handle this situation. 

“Y/N, sit down,” Louis finally says. You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s a rocking chair in the corner of the room you’re facing, and Louis sits there, leaning forward towards you. Harry stands between, letting Louis take control from the moment.

“First of all, we will not be sending you back,” Louis says. “You live here now, with us. And while in the future you may be punished for speaking to us like that, you won’t be this time. You’re learning, and this is an adjustment for everyone. Obviously something is bothering you, but we can’t fix that unless you communicate with us. Y/N, please tell us what is wrong.”

“You keep asking me questions. Wanting me to choose things,” you answer.

“And would you rather us make the decisions?” he asks and you nod yes. 

Harry speaks next and asks, “Is it because you think we should be in charge and always tell you what to do?” 

“Well, yeah. Subs aren’t supposed to have freedom. We’re supposed to do what doms tell us to do,” you explain.

Harry moves closer, crouching down right beside you. He looks up, starts to move his hand like he’s reaching for you but decides against it. “Sweetheart, of course you have freedom. We aren’t like other dominants. We don’t believe that you’re less than us. You get to have opinions, you get to have control over your life.”

You listen and think about what he’s saying. It scares you, the idea of running your own life. You imagine what that will be like, how loud and confusing your mind will be trying to figure out what to do, what you want. 

“That’s too much,” you say. “Too much pressure. I could choose wrong. Please don’t make me do that.”

Louis speaks up again and says, “Would you feel better if we made the decisions? Set rules and routines for you to follow?”

You imagine that, simply fulfilling what they tell you to do, and everything goes calm, quiet. Peace washes over you at the thought, and so you answer, “Yes. I want to do as I’m told. It’s in my nature.”

They both smile as you say that. Because you’re right. And they’re proud of you for knowing that and having the courage to express your needs. 

“Then we can do that,” Harry says. “Here’s what we’ll do for now. There’s about an hour until dinner. You stay here for half an hour to settle and then come down to the living room until the food is ready. That way you can get comfortable with both of those spaces. After dinner we’ll sit and go over rules and routines.”

“Yes sir,” you reply. 

“Y/N, I’d like for you to call me Harry. Titles like sir will be reserved for punishments, and we can discuss what you’ll call us when you’re in littlespace. But for the most part, you’re to call me Harry.”

“Same goes for me. Well, no, I mean, call me Louis. It’d be a bit confusing if you were to call me Harry, huh?” Louis says, causing all of you to laugh. The tension breaks and Harry and Louis both stand to leave.

“We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us for anything. You may come find us at any time,” Harry says.

“I’ll drop off your bag in a minute,” Louis says and they both walk out of the room. 

There’s a bathroom attached to your room so you first use that. When you walk back out, your bag is sitting on the bed. You neatly put away what little belongings you have, noticing the dresser and closet are filled with clothes for you. It doesn’t escape you that some are a much younger style, clearly meant for when you slip into headspace. 

Sighing, you close up those drawers and lay on the bed. It’s comfy, soft with lots of pillows and a pretty floral comforter. And it’s a space all your own, something you’ve never had before. You stay there and relax until a timer goes off. You grab it from the bedside table and make your way down to the living room.

Louis is waiting there for you and seeing you enter right on time he says, “That’s a good girl, listening so well to directions. We’d like you to use this time to work on something, either read a book or do a puzzle. Something to keep your mind active. Would you like me to choose for you?”

You think for a minute and reply, “I’d like to do a puzzle. But can you please pick which one?”

“Of course, love,” he says as he walks over to one of the shelves. He looks for a moment then grabs a box and says, “Here, this one’s nice.”

“Thank you, Louis.” 

“I’m going to see if Harry needs my help. You get started on this.”

You sit on the floor in front of the coffee table and begin to pull out the edge pieces. Getting lost in the task, you jump when Harry walks in saying, “Dinner’s ready.” Seeing that he’s startled you he then says, “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you. Did you do all of that in just a few minutes? Good job!”

You’ve completed the entire outline and were starting to sort the inner pieces by shape, a trick one of the other subs at the shelter had taught you. And while you’d made progress, it was only a puzzle. Nothing really to be proud about, but there’s Harry, looking like you’ve solved world hunger. It makes you feel warm inside, this praise that they seem to give quite freely. 

“C’mon, you can leave that here to work on again later. Go wash up and meet us in the dining room,” Harry says. You do as you’re told and the scent that hits you once you get to the table has your mouth watering.

Growing up you’d been fed enough to sustain you. Never anything fancy or particularly tasty. It was for survival, not enjoyment.

The food at the shelter was good, definitely tastier than you’d ever had before.

But this, whatever Harry has made, looks a thousand times better than even the best food at the shelter. The three of you sit and eat, Harry and Louis supplying most of the conversation, which you’re grateful for. When it’s done they tell you to head back to the living room and they’ll meet you after they clean up.

“Can I help clean?” you ask. You feel bad that you haven’t done anything to help so far, and you’re hoping to pitch in now so you feel less like a freeloader. 

“Not tonight love. Later we’ll talk about the different jobs you’ll have around the house, but none of that will start until we’ve all discussed it,” Louis answers. 

“I understand,” you say and turn to head to the living room as you were told. You work on the puzzle more until both Harry and Louis join you. 

“Have a seat there,” Louis says, pointing to the armchair. They sit on the couch across from it, ensuring that you can see both of them clearly for this conversation. 

“It’s become clear that you do well with set boundaries and routine, is that fair to say?” Harry asks.

You nod, and Harry adds, “First rule, always respond verbally unless you’re too young mentally to do so.”

“Yes, sir,” you answer quickly.

“Y/N, you’re not in trouble, you don’t have to call me sir. You’re still learning,” Harry says.

“Let’s go over the rules we have and the schedule we’ve made up for you,” Louis quickly says. 

For the next half hour the three of you talk. They explain all of the expectations they have for you, and give you papers with your rule list and daily schedule so you can keep those in your room to refer to when needed. 

“Of course, all of this will be changed and adjusted when you’re in littlespace, but if you’re old enough to follow a certain rule then you’ll still be expected to follow it,” Louis says after everything is discussed.

You don’t reply, looking down at the papers you’re holding instead.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Harry asks.

You take a deep breath and begin to explain why that might not happen often. “I don’t go into headspace much. When I was with my family they would just leave me alone and I’d wake up starving and a mess, and well, you can imagine. Or they’d do things to me because I couldn’t fight back. So I trained myself not to slip. Even now I try not to. It scares me to be so vulnerable. So just, please don’t be disappointed if I’m not as much of a little as you were hoping for.”

Neither of them answer you so you finally look up. You’re not prepared to see tears streaming down Harry’s face or swimming in Louis' eyes. Their reactions have you wanting to break down, but you can’t. Not now. Not yet. You look back at the papers in your lap and distract yourself by studying the rules until both doms have stopped their tears.

Louis is the first to speak. “Y/N, we don’t have any sort of expectations for you. If you do slip, or you don’t slip, that’s fine with us. We’re prepared to take care of you no matter what. Your safety and happiness is what matters.” Harry nods along with him to show that he agrees with everything Louis is saying.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say. For now, you hope that it’s enough. 

“It’s been a long day,” Harry says. “And according to your schedule it’s time to get ready for bed. C’mon, we’ll head up with you.”

The three of you go upstairs, and the boys remain in your bedroom while you get ready in the bathroom. When you’re finished you see that they’ve pulled back the covers, and it looks so cozy and inviting.

“If you’re comfortable with it, we’d like to tuck you in each night,” Louis explains. “We feel it’s a good way for us to connect with you. Plus it just seems like a nice way to wind down at the end of the day.”

“I think I’d like that,” you answer. Sliding into bed, Harry tucks the blankets around you. There’s only a soft lamp on, casting a warm glow to the room. They tell you that you can come to their room if you need them, or you can press a button that’s on the bedside table that sends an alert to their phones. You feel so content and safe knowing that they’ll always be there if you need them. 

Before they go, they each press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, wishing you a good night and sweet dreams. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a peaceful sleep, so content, and for the first time ever, so hopeful for your future.

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

AN: Thank you for reading! Like I said, chapter 3 should be out tomorrow! I literally woke up this morning and decided to start it and now it's at 3.5K words and almost finished.

Next chapter here!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half Part Twenty Two

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: Angst was requested, so angst ye shall receive. Welcome to the Thanksgiving episode.

Warnings: Smidge of fluff with a heaping of angst; reader has a mother and father, neither are described physically

Summary: It had gotten off to a good start. 

Your parents had been so buoyant and excited as they’d gotten off of the jet, and as Bruce had driven you all to the manor. The manor had incited a wave of ooing and aahing as Bruce had given them a tour. You’d departed for the kitchen, trying to help Alfred, but he’d merely steered you onto a stool and made you a strong cup of tea to steady your nerves. 

You're a little surprised when Bruce’s eyes glaze over at the idea. You’ve never seen him actively check out from a conversation like this before. You raise your hand, gently waving it in front of his face.

“Honey?” You press. “Did you hear me?” 

Bruce clears his throat, averting his gaze to the kitchen counter. You frown as he takes up his glass of wine, drawing deeply from it.

“I haven't thought about it,” He finally admits.

“Well, what do you usually do for Thanksgiving?” 

He shrugs. “Not much. Alfred makes dinner.”

“So it’s like any other day?” You tease, trying to lighten the mood. He smiles tightly, taking up the bottle of wine and topping off your glasses. 

“I guess,” He offers. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out where you can possibly take the conversation next. 

“Well,” You lean into it a little, drawing your wine glass closer to yourself. “My parents have invited us to Metropolis for Thanksgiving, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come.”

“You’re definitely going?”

“I mean, you said you don’t have any other plans, and I don’t. Michelle is doing a Friendsgiving that weekend, but I don’t have anything else going on, day-of. And…” You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts, fighting off the swell of emotion. You focus on your wine, incredibly wary of how you go on: “I haven’t seen my parents since you brought them here. Mom’s been harping on me to visit.” Among other things—but you don't want to get into all that now.

“Why haven’t you?”

“Work, and the press, and just,” You shake your head. “There’s been a lot going on. I haven’t accrued any time off at work, but we get Thanksgiving and the Friday off, so I figured I’d leave Wednesday night, and get back on Saturday in time for Friendsgiving.” 

“How are you getting there?” 

“I’ll rent a car.”

Bruce gives you a stern sidelong glance. 

“You can borrow one of mine if you insist on driving.”

“The tumbler?”

“You’d be disappointed in the gas mileage.” 

“Bummer.”

Bruce thinks for a moment before he leans against the counter. 

“Is anyone else going to be at Thanksgiving?”

“Just the three of us—four, if you decide to come.” 

“Alright. Tell you what: why don’t you invite your parents here. We’ll have Thanksgiving at the manor. They can stay the night.” 

Your brows raise in surprise. 

“You seriously want to do that?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“...Are you concussed?”

Bruce rolls his eyes, resting his arms atop the counter and taking hold of your hands in his. 

“Invite them, see what they say. Alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “We’ll have to tell Alfred.”

“Let’s just see what they say first.” 

Your eyes narrow slightly. He’s got to be bluffing. Thanksgiving is next week—there isn’t much time to get everything confirmed. Travel plans need to be made, shopping lists need to be created, rooms at the manor probably need to be aired out. 

“Alright,” You shrug. “Let’s ask.” You draw your phone out of your pocket, swiping open to your contacts. 

“You're going to call right now?”

“Sooner’s better than later, right?” You tap your mother’s contact, then put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter. Your eyes flit toward Bruce, and you find him eyeing your phone like a ticking time bomb. 

“Sweetie!” Your mother screeches, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“How are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all week!” 

That’s on purpose. There are some things that your mother’s been bringing up lately that you just don’t want to talk about…Things that you haven’t even told Bruce. 

“I know, it’s been a lot of phone tag, I’m sorry about that. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving—” 

“Oh, me, too! What time does your plane land?” 

“Well…” You look at Bruce again, waiting for him to call it off—last chance to back down. But he nods and waves you on, so you go on, “We know it’s last minute, but Bruce and I were hoping that you could join us here this year, at the manor.” 

“The manor?” Your mother’s shock and glee are delightfully clear, even through the tinny audio. 

“Mhm!” 

“Oh, I don't know, it’s awfully late to get a flight—” 

“I’ll send the jet.”  

Bruce’s assertion shocks you both into silence for a moment. Your brows raise, mouth falling open in surprise. 

‘Are you kidding?’ You mouth over your mother’s fumbling insistence that it’s too much of an expense. 

“Not at all,” Bruce shakes his head. “We really would love to host you. It’s been too long since you’ve seen Gotham.” 

“Been too long since I’ve seen my daughter.”

“Mom,” You groan, wincing. 

“Let me talk it over with your father—We’ll let you know in the morning. Thank you for the offer, Bruce.” 

“Of course.” 

“Talk to you later, mom,” You add. 

“Bye! Love you!” 

“Love you, too!” You tap the button to end the call before you look at Bruce again. “The jet?” 

“It’s just sitting there,” Bruce shrugs, taking up his wine again. “And this way they won’t have to go through security. I hear holiday lines are a real killer.”

“You are…” You shake your head a little, chuckling, “Such a fucking enigma.”

“I don’t think I am.” 

“No?” 

“No.” Bruce straightens, rounding the counter. “I don't do anything by halves, I don’t back down from a challenge…” He comes to a stop beside you, gaze searching your face, “And I love you very much.” 

You reach out, gently hooking your fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugging him closer for a kiss.

“Right back atchya, Mr. Wayne.” 

--  

It had gotten off to a good start. 

Your parents had been so buoyant and excited as they’d gotten off of the jet, and as Bruce had driven you all to the manor. The manor had incited a wave of ooing and aahing as Bruce had given them a tour. You’d departed for the kitchen, trying to help Alfred, but he’d merely steered you onto a stool and made you a strong cup of tea to steady your nerves. 

“If I may say so,” Alfred had offered, “You hardly seemed as tightly wound the last time Master Wayne brought your parents into town.” 

“Well, I was blindsided last time,” You’d admitted, “And I haven’t…” You’d trailed off, shaking your head a little as Alfred had cast a curious eye toward you. 

“Haven’t what?” 

“...Nothing. Are you sure there isn't anything that I can do to help?” 

If Alfred hadn’t bought your brushing him off, he hadn’t chased it down—and as much as you’d entreated him to eat with all of you, he wouldn’t hear of it.

It had been a good start.

Dinner is delicious, Alfred makes sure the wine continues to flow, and you think, you think that your mom isn’t going to bring it up, but— 

“Have you put in for your transfer?” 

Your blood runs cold, and your face goes hot. The sudden change of subject makes your stomach heave in such a way that you're sure you're about to lose your dinner. You keep your focus on your nearly empty plate as everyone’s attention turns to you. You swallow thickly. Your transfer. 

“You said that you would,” Your mother adds.

“I told you I would think about it,” You argue. “I never said it was set in stone.” 

“Transfer?” Bruce prods. Damnit. 

“It was just something that my mom thought—” 

“That I know would be better for you!” Your mother argues. She casts a glance between you and Bruce, sighing. “Now I know that you’re both very fond of Gotham, but it just isn’t safe, and it isn’t getting any better. Besides the crime rate, your…” She trails off, seeming to try and tread carefully for once. 

“I think what your mother is trying to say,” Your father cuts in, “Is that as much as you can shrug it off, the fact of the matter is, your…Relationship,” He glances between you and Bruce warily, “Has put you in danger.” 

“Dad—” 

“If it wasn’t for Batman, you could have died—Or Bruce could’ve lost so much money—” Your mother cuts in. 

“I never cared about the money,” Bruce’s insistence is so heartbreakingly soft, and nearly drowned out as your mother goes on: 

“You can transfer to a branch of the Wayne Foundation in Metropolis. And who even knows how long Batman will be around to stop these kinds of things.” 

“It was a one-off,” You insist firmly. “I’m fine, I’m safe.” 

“But it could happen again,” Your father points out. “It could happen to either of you.” 

You sigh softly, glancing toward Bruce. He’s not looking at you. His ears are red; his jaw is clenched. You reach for his hand beneath the table, but he pulls it away, reaching for his glass instead. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” You say firmly, looking between your parents. “Okay? Can we just—talk about something fun and uncontroversial, like politics or euthanasia?” 

--  

It had been such a good start. 

But as your parents head up to their guest room and Bruce disappears to the study—as you hear the discordant clanging of the piano—you crumble. You bury your face in your hands, trying to stifle your sobs. Hot tears and hot breath press into your palms as your chest and shoulders wrack with sobs. You feel two hands rest on your shoulders, and you turn gratefully into Alfred, leaning into him heavily as he folds you into his arms. He smooths his hand over your back, shushing you softly as he steers you toward the kitchen. 

You sit numbly on the stool again, breath hiccuping as you scrub at your tear-stung eyes. Alfred comes back over to you with a small glass in hands. 

“What’s that?” You mumble. 

“Sherry. Steady your nerves.” 

You take hold of it and toss it all back—and regret it immediately. You cough roughly, wincing at the dry burn as it blazes down your throat. Alfred takes the glass back. 

“...It wasn’t a shot.” 

“I realize that now,” You grit out, clearing your throat. Alfred turns, refilling the glass and holding it out again. 

“Slower this time.” 

You take a small sip, brow furrowing at the taste. It’s almost pleasant. 

Almost.

You sniffle, looking down into the glass and swirling it slightly. 

“...I’m guessing you heard everything?” 

“I did.” 

“I didn’t think she’d bring it up,” You admit, "I kinda hoped she wouldn’t…But I didn’t have a moment with her without Bruce, and when she didn’t mention it on the way back from the airport, I thought…I shouldn’t have assumed, anyway. Now he’s pissed at me.” 

“...If I may,” Alfred says gently, “I believe he’s upset because he’s afraid that your mother may be right.” 

“She isn’t.” 

“Even you must admit that being in the public eye has changed things for you.” 

“I was held at gunpoint at work before Bruce and I were known to be together.” 

“Crime is still an epidemic in this city.” 

“Nowhere in the world is crimeless. I could just as soon be held up in Metropolis.” 

“...Perhaps,” Alfred nods. You sigh softly, taking in another mouthful of sherry and wincing. 

“I just wish he hadn’t left before we talked about it,” You shake your head. “I hate it when he does that.” 

“Stay here,” Alfred pats your cheek gently. “Relax.” 

“Can I help with the washing up?—Please,” You tip your head to the side pleadingly as Alfred opens his mouth to argue. “You’ve been working so hard all day, and everything was so delicious. It’ll go faster with two. Please let me help.” 

Alfred finally nods. 

“I’ll wash, you dry.” 

“Sure.” You stand, setting the sherry glass by the sink. You take up the dishtowel, still sniffling a little as you and Alfred stand side by side at the sink. 

“...Alfred?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thanks. For everything.” 

He smiles, lightly nudging your shoulder with his. It’s a gentle, familiar touch, one that makes you smile through your sniffles. 

“Any time, dear.”

Next Part

[janeyseymour]

this is my first time ever sending a request so lmk if i’m doing this right :)

was wondering if you could make a melissa x fem stoner reader. melissa isn’t aware of the habit and has no reason to be suspicious or bring things up. one day melissa comes unexpectedly comes home to find fem reader lighting up in the kitchen sparking a very interesting conversation

i love your writing and i hope this makes sense thank you :))

Hi! I think I deviated from the path a little... but I hope it still makes you smile!

*This has also been in the works for a week and I've just been so busy with teaching and the holidays... oh LAWD, so it's entirely unedited... my b, my b*

Weeds

WC: 3.3k

“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Melissa asks you one final time. She’s all but rolling her bag out to the car.

“I told you, Mel,” you chuckle. “You and Barb deserve to go have a nice relaxing weekend- just the two of you.”

“Barb wouldn’t mind,” the redhead tells you. “She loves you, and you know it.”

“I know,” you smile and take her hand gently. “But you two deserve to go have a nice weekend without the partners where you can talk shit all you want whenever you want.”

“Like I would ever talk shit on you,” she rolls her eyes.

“Go, baby,” you tell her gently. “I’ll be just fine on my own. I’ll probably catch up on sleep and grade some papers.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “But if anything happens, please call me, and I’ll come home.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m a fully grown adult, Mel. I lived on my own before I moved in with you,” you remind her.

“I know, I know,” she says quietly. “I just worry about you- especially with your migraines being worse around this time of year.”

“I have the medicine,” you tell her. “I’ll be just fine. Go.”

She kisses you gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble against her lips. You pull back. “I expect to see lots of pictures- especially of you at the pool.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” your girlfriend laughs. “Okay, I have to go, but I’ll see you on Sunday night.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday night,” you reply. “Please let me know when you get there safely.”

“I will,” she promises and kisses you once more.

Your Friday night is nearly perfect. You’re able to do some laundry, you get the reading tests graded, you’re able to drink a few glasses of wine and curl up to watch a movie while you eat Chinese takeout. The only thing that could make it perfect would be if Melissa were next to you. Your girlfriend sends you a picture of her and her work wife together at the pool, drinks in hand.

You look amazing. Have fun, babe, you send.

We will, she replies quickly. You’re doing okay?

I did our laundry, graded my reading tests, ordered Chinese food, and I’m curled up drinking a glass of wine and watching Bruce Almighty- the sister in that movie looks a lot like you!

I’m glad you’re enjoying your Friday night, she texts. I’ll talk to you later, I love you.

I love you too Mel. Enjoy your time, and tell Barb I said hello.

You end up dozing on the couch, and when you wake up around midnight, the television is playing softly, you’re still all cozy up under your blankets, and your phone is laying next to you with a few unread messages.

Melissa sent you a picture of her drinking another glass of wine, her cleavage on full display.

No response?

I guess you fell asleep watching your movie like you usually do.

Barb and I are turning in for the night. I love you.

You save the image to your phone before responding, Sorry. Dozed off on the couch. I love you too.

Your head hurts slightly, and not just in the way that one glass of wine would give you a minor headache. Nope. The spot behind your temple starts to throb, and you clench your jaw. A migraine was coming on. You drag yourself off of the couch and into your bedroom where you blindly reach for the bottle of pills you keep in your nightstand. You take one and lay down, hoping that you took your medication soon enough that you’ll just be able to sleep through it and not have to deal with it tomorrow.

When you wake up again, you’re fine. There’s a trace of a headache, but you chalk that up to the fact that you had a few glasses of wine last night. You make yourself a cup of coffee, you heat up some of the breakfast casserole that Melissa left you, and you get comfortable on the couch with a blanket and the book that you’ve been trying to get through since before you and Melissa started dating- you just never have the time anymore. You’re either busy teaching, planning for your classes, prepping materials for the kids, grading papers, or you’re out doing something with your girlfriend. 

You send her a picture of your set up: the blanket, the book, your coffee, and on the television you have a fireplace video with soft music going. Taking the day to relax after this insane week with the kids.

It’s early, earlier than the two of you usually wake up on a weekend, so you set your phone down and open your book. You get through approximately twenty pages before you’re asleep again.

When you wake up, you feel absolutely terrible. Your head is aching, and you’re not sure if you can even stand without wanting to simply shrivel up. So that headache this morning wasn’t the remnants of a hangover- no. It was a migraine starting, and you once again made a foolish choice. 

You cry out as the sound of the youtube video you have up on the television pauses and a rather loud ad comes on. You turn it off in an instant. You know there has to be at least one other migraine pill in the house.

But when you get upstairs and pull open your drawer of the nightstand, your pill bottle is empty. You burst into tears at that- the last of your medication is with Melissa… in the Poconos. You slam the drawer shut in frustration before you can even think about it, and you instantly regret your choice. It bangs shut, and you flinch as it closes.

You’re just going to have to get through this migraine without any medication. It’s going to suck, and you know you’re going to be all but paralyzed when it fully hits.

You’re not going to call Melissa and tell her- she would drive back home to take care of you, even though you would be sleeping. You groan as you walk downstairs and turn off your phone entirely so you aren’t even tempted with the idea of texting her. 

Then you think… you haven’t smoked in a while- since you and Melissa started going out, really. It’s been over a year.You have your dab pen in the nightstand drawer, and getting high always helped when you had bad headaches. It took your pain away.

Despite the absolute killer pain behind your eyes, you drag yourself upstairs and dig around in the drawer for your pen. You take a hit, and then another. That should do the trick- you just have to let it hit you. You head back downstairs, collapsing onto the couch and closing your eyes.

You’re beyond high not fifteen minutes later. It’s been almost two years since you’ve smoked, and it’s clear your tolerance for the drug went down. You giggle, thankful that your searing headache seems to have magically cleared up. You turn the television on, finding a brainless show to watch while you aren’t sober. 

It starts to wear off after an hour, and so your migraine pains start up again. Your jaw clenches as a shiver runs up your back, only causing more pain to your already tense head. You trudge back up the steps, and you bring your pen down with you after ripping it a few times. You settle on the couch, a glass of water and a bag of chips in hand while you continue to watch your show. 

Melissa and Barbara are sitting in a restaurant when the older teacher’s phone starts to ring. Taylor’s contact picture lights up her phone, and she shoots the redhead an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello?” Barbara’s face shifts from confused, to concerned. “Okay, sweet girl… Is Daddy with you? …You hang tight. I’m on my way. I’m coming, don’t you worry… I’m in the Poconos so it might be a little, but Momma’s coming.”

“Barb?”

“I gotta- Taylor got into an accident. She’s okay, but she’s in the hospital,” the kindergarten teacher tells her friend quickly. She throws down her credit card. “I got lunch. Just give me my card on Monday.” She leaves the restaurant quickly.

Melissa glances at the card before throwing it in her bag. She’ll handle lunch. She finishes her meal, scrolling through her phone before texting you as she goes back up to her room to pack up her things. 

Coming home early. Will explain when I get home, but just so you know. I love you.

Of course, you don’t see it.

You’ve just taken a few more rips from your dab pen, trying to stay as inebriated as possible to ride out this migraine- once it’s gone, you’ll put it away. It’s not like Melissa will be home before tomorrow anyway. She told you she would be back Sunday night, and it’s Saturday at two in the after-

“Hey hon?” Melissa’s voice floats through the front room. Your eyes are closed, so you’re fairly certain that you just miss your girlfriend so much that you’re imagining this. Your eyes stay closed.

“Y/N?” your girlfriend calls again. You still don’t respond. She only needs to catch half a glimpse at you to know something is up. You’re sprawled out on the couch, face down. You have the chip bag on the floor next to you and open- something you never do. The redhead only has to take a step into the room to see that you haven’t finished your coffee from this morning, and she knows you practically inhale any cup of caffeine you can get your hands on.

“Babe,” she says softly as she kneels down in front of you.

You’re so high. “Lissa?” you mumble, and your eyes just barely peel open. You know you’re imagining that she’s here. She’s not due to be here for another day. But you miss her so much.

“Y/N,” Melissa brushes a few rogue hairs out of your face. You giggle. Then she sees how red your eyes are. She spots your pen sticking out of your sweatpants pocket. “Are you… high?”

You shrug and attempt to sit up, only to realize that you’re on your stomach and not on your back. When you try to turn over, you nearly fall off the couch. If not for your girlfriend, you would be on the floor. You burst into laughter at that. The imaginary person just saved you from falling off the couch! 

“Oh my god,” the redhead mumbles as she helps to situate you on the couch. “Honey, how high are you?”

“Really,” you drawl out. “But shh… don’t tell Lissa- she’ll come home to help, but she needs this weekend.”

Melissa shakes her head as she inspects your pen. “When was the last time you hit this?”

“Dunno,” you shake your head from side to side slowly. “Will wear off soon… gonna have to take another.”

“And why would you have to?” Your girlfriend questions.

“Helps with the migraine,” you let slip.

“You didn’t take your medication?”

“None left. Only with Mel, but… she’s away, ’n’ I don’ wanna bother her."

Melissa bites her lip. She knows she has a few pills in the car for you, but with how inebriated you are, she doesn’t know if that would be a good choice or not. “Why don’t we get you cozy in bed and we can sleep this off, yeah?”

“Bed sounds nice,” you mumble, eyes starting to close again. “Can’t feel m’legs. G’night.” 

Melissa sighs a heavy sigh. She hoists your limp body into her arms and carries you up the stairs. She gently lays you in bed before crawling in behind you and spooning you. You’re asleep before she can even wrap her arms around you. 

When you wake up, it’s dark. Your migraine is gone. You’re not even close to high anymore. How much time has passed? How did you get into bed? Whose arms are you- Melissa really is home. You roll over to look at the alarm clock: 7:20 pm staring back at you.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” your girlfriend whispers. “How are you feeling? Migraine gone?”

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “Why are you home though? Please tell me I didn’t text-”

“You didn’t. Taylor was in a minor car accident, and-”

“Oh god,” you gasp quietly. “Is she okay?”

“She’s just fine, but she wanted Barb, so we left early. I got home around two, and you were on the couch… high?”

You turn about as red as Melissa’s hair. “Y-yeah.”

“Babe, I didn’t know you did that stuff,” she sighs softly. She almost sounds disappointed in you.

“I- I usually don’t,” you mumble as you hide your face in her chest. You don’t want to see the look she’s giving you right now. “I haven’t since we started dating.”

“We started dating almost two years ago,” she points out.

“I know. I think I smoked once the second week we were seeing each other, but since then… I haven’t.”

“Why don’t we get some food into your stomach so your migraine doesn’t come back and a headache doesn’t start, and we can talk?” Melissa suggests. “I want to know more.”

“But while we cook, you tell me about your trip,” you try to barter. You don’t want her to just be grilling you for the entire night. 

“While I cook, but sure,” she laughs softly as she rolls you off of her and sits up. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

She tells you about her car drive up and how she wished that you were with her to keep her company. She tells you about the crazy traffic she had to sit in because there was an accident by the one tunnel, and how happy she was to have finally gotten to the resort that they were to meet at. She tells you about how beautiful the rooms they had gotten were, and how Barb’s husband let them use his points, and her cousin Gino was able to hook her up with some of the perks and a free mini bar. She talks to you about how the pool had a fountain and that it was so nice to be away from the screaming children and just talk with Barb. And then she’s plating the food and sliding the plate down to where you’re sitting at the island.

“So, are we gonna talk about this?” she asks as she sits too.

You almost feel like a student again when they’re being reprimanded for talking in class. You nod, cheeks tinting red again. “What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you have any of your pills, and why didn’t you call me?”

“I had a migraine last night and took the last pill last night,” you mumble through a mouthful of pasta.

“And why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I knew you’d come running home, and you deserved to have this weekend away- especially after this week with your kids.”

“So you got high instead?” You nod. “Where did you even get this? Is it safe?”

You don’t want to rat yourself out, so you just nod. 

“Where did you get it from?”

You purse your lips. “Can we not?”

“Why not? What’s in it? Just weed, right?” you nod. “So then what’s the big deal.”

“I used to be a stoner,” you mutter. “Like, a big fucking stoner.”

“Okay?”

“Like, I used to come home from my old school and just stay high until the I fell asleep because it helped with the pain and anxiety from that place.”

“You worked at a place worse than Abbott?”

“I told you when I showed up that Abbott was a walk in the park for me, and I meant it,” you tell your girlfriend seriously.

“So where’d you get it?"

“It’s all medicinal,” you promise her. “I just don’t like the smell of it all, and I have weird reactions to edibles, so… dab pens were the next choice.”

“If this helps your migraines, why haven’t you smoked around me before?”

“Because I have the medication… Because we’re teachers… it’s unprofessional,” you tell her. Then you mumble, “Because I didn’t want to lose you because of some stupid habit, so I quit. Just like I quit cigs when I started at Abbott and saw you.”

“You used to smoke cigs?”

“Oh god, yeah,” you chuckle. “But I found a new addiction… you.”

Your girlfriend rolls those striking green eyes of her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” you shrug. “So… are you mad?”

Melissa sighs. “I wish you would’ve called me so I could’ve come and helped you through that,” she admits. “But I’m not mad about the pen. I used to smoke too, and don’t act like that shocks you.”

Relief washes over you. She isn’t mad. 

“So… you got high off of a pen that you haven’t used in almost two years?” your girlfriend asks.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “But I’m not worried. My friend Darcy put her cart in there like a month ago when we went out for dinner and forgot to take it out. She told me to just hold onto it until the next time.”

“You had your pen on you?”

“She was actually going to buy it off of me but decided against it. I guess it’s a good thing I had it this weekend,” you laugh. “I kinda missed that feeling.”

“I mean… if you wanted to,” she laughs. “We have nowhere to be tomorrow?”

“It’s okay,” you promise her. “I don’t want to be ridiculously high if you’re going to be sober and have to deal with me.”

“What if I said I want to try it with you?” the redhead suggests with a smirk. “It’s been… oh twenty years.”

“Really?” you can’t help but giggle.

And that’s how you find yourself and your girlfriend up in bed an hour later, getting ready to get high again. You have a bag of chips, a sleeve of cookies, a couple bottles of water, and a bucket in case Melissa greens out.

“You’re sure?” you give her one more chance to back out.

“I’ve been high before.”

“This shit is real strong.”

“How strong?”

“Like… I would take one small hit and see how it affects you in thirty minutes before you think about another.”

“Okay,” your girlfriend laughs. She brings the pen up to her mouth and inhales. You hit it twice after her.

“Hey!”

“Mel, I know my limit. We don’t know yours yet.”

“Well, I want it to be fair,” she tells you as she plucks the pen out of your hand and draws another hit.

When you wake up the next morning to a flood of texts from Janine asking why you left her a seven minute voicemail about dinosaur chicken nuggets, and Melissa has a message from Ava saying that she appreciated the call out from work for today but unfortunately you don’t work on Sundays, the two of you snort with laughter until you’re red in the face and she has tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We should get high together again,” you laugh as you sit up.

“I know,” she smiles as she continues to lay there. “That was fun.”

“I’ll buy a cart for us tomorrow on the way home from work,” you tell her.

“Don’t. I know a guy,” she shrugs as she throws the blankets off of her.

“Mel, I don’t want street weed. I’m not trying to die,” you roll your eyes.

“Who said anything about street weed? I know some guys in the field who won’t charge me a thing… as long as I make ‘em some raviolis.” 

[yunacoeur]

loser in love - kim taerae

a/n: i’ve been working on this for about a week now and it’s still shorter than i expected it to be. oh well, let me know if you like this! also who do i need to bribe at wakeone to give me jeonghyeon bc i miss him!!!! need him so bad

word count: 3.8k

zb1 | kim taerae, sunshine x grumpy au, angst, cute ending, communication issues trope, he fell first but she fell harder trope, college au, reader kinda sucks but they mean well <3

—

your professor assigns a two-person project in your philosophy class. it’s a paper on whether or not socrates was innocent or guilty of corrupting the youth.. or something like that. given you got a decent partner, it would take just a couple sessions at the library to get it done. you’re not even paying attention until someone walks up to you while you’re reading something on your phone. you look up to see a guy from your class you haven’t spoken to yet, though his reputation precedes him (yours must as well. he seems like he knows who you are). 

his name is taerae, you… think. he’s in the same friend group with sung hanbin and kim jiwoong, which already means he’s popular and well liked if he’s good enough to hang around with those kinds of guys. he’s always got this bright smile on his face, like a literal ray of sunshine walks through those doors every monday, wednesday, and friday. 

“hi,” he says to you, “i’m taerae. you’re my partner, right?” so you were right.

“yep,” you respond plainly. 

he awkwardly waits for you to maybe say something else, but when you don’t, he says, “are you available to meet at the library today? so we can get a headstart?”

yeah and did i mention he’s an amazing student? you couldn’t even imagine doing an assignment the day it was assigned, let alone actually do it, but it’s one less thing to worry about in three weeks and your future self will thank you.

“yeah, i can do 3,” you say and he smiles that bright smile that could make your heart flutter.

“alright, i’ll see you then!” he says, and then he’s off. 

you’re left right where you started, sitting at your desk, staring at your phone. you look over at the couple next to you, being way too excited that they got paired together. they’re doing way too much pda for a classroom and it reminds you, once again, that love is weird. not your style.

—

the first time you go to the library is 3 weeks before the due date.

“so which argument should we use? i think guilty would be more interesting to write about, but innocent is probably the easier side to defend.” he says, looking over at you after going over all his papers with that stupid smile again. it’s kind of annoying how immediately likable he is. 

“i don’t care. up to you,” you mumble, getting your laptop setup to write up your guys’ outline. 

he seems discouraged that you’re only responding to him shortly, but he refuses to give up, much to your dismay, “i want you to pick.” he says, small smile this time. his dimple is still visible, of course. 

“fine. we’ll argue that he’s innocent. what’s your email so i can share this doc with you?” you say, looking up at him, making brief eye contact. 

he’s silent for a second, just looking at you. 

and then suddenly it’s like his soul comes back into his body. “oh, sorry,” he says lamely, typing in his email on your keyboard and handing your laptop back you. he gets quiet for a second, and it makes the atmosphere weird and almost tense.

you feel the need to break it, “do you want to write the introduction and then first two arguments and i’ll write the third argument, the counter, and the conclusion?”

he smiles. you don’t even know why he would be smiling right now, but he has this look of fondness on his face, “sure. let’s work for an hour and then take a break. okay?” he says and you nod. 

you pretend not to notice the way he keeps looking at you, opening his mouth like he has something to say, and then giving up on that thought and going back to typing. 

—

“hi bestie,” you say as you walk up to taerae’s usual seat in the library. and there he is as always at this time. he doesn’t even know himself how he got you to show up here everyday (even if you barely did any work. you had finished your parts of the paper a week ago, but keep showing up to accompany him until he was done.) he can’t figure out why you keep showing up but he wont tell you to leave. 

“hey,” he says, not looking up from his laptop. 

“i got you something,” you tell him. he looks up, curious. 

you got him coffee when you got one for yourself, the exact thing he told you he liked last time.

it makes his heart skip a beat. maybe more than one.

—

“do you believe in ghosts?” he asks you as you type up a different assignment. the question catches you off guard, and you choose to stop your assignment and humor him for a second. 

“i guess so? why?” 

“why do you believe in ghosts?” he asks.

you laugh breathlessly, considering the true answer that you believe, “it just makes sense that they do. especially if their soul had unfinished business.”

“like what?”

“i dont know,” you shake your head, giggling at his persistence, “maybe they left someone they loved dearly behind, and they have to watch over them.”

loved… to love someone so dearly that you soul won’t rest until they find peace. your peace connected to theirs. how beautiful…

—

“do you ever feel like you’re missing out?” he asks, suddenly. a part of you almost already knows what he means. you were always more similar than you gave yourselves credit for.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve never been in love. always so focused on music and my studies,” he admits, looking over at you, “am i missing out? it is nice to be in love?”

“well, unfortunately for you, you picked the one wrong person to ask,” you laugh at his defeated face, “ i’ve never been in love and i don’t really think i want to. it sounds lame. like i just wanna love my friends and myself. i don’t think romance is for me.” 

“yeah..? that sounds lonely,” he comments, but you shake your head.

“not lonely, just no one to break my heart.”

—

“if we keep going at this rate,” you say as you walk up to him and pull out your laptop, “we’ll probably only have to come to the library one more time. so this is what it’s like to be a good student.” you laugh to yourself as you sit down. he smiles faintly.

“yeah, for sure,” he says. almost looking down, like what you said upset him in some kind of way. it doesn’t make sense why. why would he want to keep working on philosophy assignments more than they have to?

— 

the supposedly ‘last’ time you go to the library is d-5 from the due date.

“do you really hate romance?” he asks, bringing up the topic again. he seems weirdly hung up on it.

“no, i never said i hated it. just not for me,” you sigh, “i’m not really a people person anyway. there’s no one i’d want to date even if i wanted to be romanced.”

ouch.

—

it’s d-day. a beautiful wednesday.

“hey!” taerae says, catching your attention as you get up to leave class. 

“what’s up?”

“can you meet after your classes today? would 3 work?” he asks, knowing full well you just submitted that paper with both your names on it. it was a+ material, what could be wrong about it?

“why? the project is over,” you say bluntly. he smile falters just a bit, but he catches himself and continues on.

“i… need your help to study,” he says, like he came up with it on the spot. 

‘you need… my help?’ you wanna say, but you don’t. you don’t call him out. 

“okay,” you say, “but i’m not staying long. just long enough to ‘help’ or whatever. see ya, tae.” you get up to go, but his hand stops you, grabbing your arm. 

“hey... uhm.. please come,” he says sincerely. something about this feels deeper than just ‘studying’. his eyes are showing how vulnerable he already feels. 

 “i will, taerae. i promise,” you say, “i'm honestly offended you think I'm gonna stand you up.”

he laughs with a bittersweet smile, “sorry!” as you walk off to your next class.

–

he’s sitting at one of those benches outside the library when you walk up to him. he doesn’t notice you at first, just playing on his phone. he looks so peaceful. 

and then he notices you, and smiles that signature smile, “hey! thank you for coming,” he says.

it’s just a tad bit confusing why he’s so hellbent on the idea that you wouldn’t want to come see him, or that it’s so important that you’re here. 

“i’m taking it that you don’t need help studying,” you smile back at him, and he shakes his head, “didn’t think so. you’re a star student.”

“i try my best,” he says, and you scoff at him. he barely tries. he’s just good at everything (except for math. but that’s math’s fault for being too complicated for him).

you shake your head at him, “okay, what did you wanna do?”

“i actually wanted to tell you something,” he starts. that smile of his fades when he gets anxious. he puts his hands in his pockets to hide how clammy they’re getting. you urge him to continue but he’s struggling to find the words, “i-i’m sorry, it’s hard to talk about.”

“it’s okay, tae, just breathe,”

he frowns, seemingly gaining the courage to say his thoughts, “i- i know this is- this is not what you want to hear because you’ve told me how you’re not romantically interested in anyone and you don’t want a relationship. you’re really clear about that and i respect that.”

he closes his eyes as he braces himself for how vulnerable he’s about to feel. he’s preparing to bare his heart out to you, when he knows you can’t care for it like he needs. 

“and i don’t want to make you feel pressured, but it feels wrong to hide it from you while i monopolize all your time,” he says, lowering his face to hide it from you. you can still see how red his ears are getting though, “i had to go and fall for the one person i couldn’t fall in love with.” he says it more to himself, like a criticism. ‘how could i do something so stupid, so self-destructive?’ he’s probably thinking, "I have feelings for you. i'm sorry."

“taerae…” you whisper, coming closer to try and comfort him, putting your hand on his arm. 

he shakes his head again, looking up with you with those darling eyes that make people fall for him left and right, “and it’s not fair to you, but it’s not fair to me either. you don’t want to be in love? that’s fine. but you can’t go and take my heart and write your initials on it like it belongs to you, and expect me to not feel it pounding in my chest for you. that’s…” it’s ironic that so many people probably have feelings for him and yet he’s here, baring his soul out to you, “cruel.”

his eyes, intentionally or not, are piercing into your soul in turn. it’s like he can see every last piece of your being, and it’s frightening to be that known by someone else. they’re pulling you in like a siren song, making you want to give it a chance, give him a chance. his eyes are doing every last thing to make you his, promising you to only ever be yours, to never hurt you, to always make you happy. 

maybe that’s why you left him there with nothing more than a squeeze to his hand and a “i’m so sorry,”. it was easier than looking into those beautiful eyes and tell him no. easier than watching his heart (with your initials on it) shatter.

—

and so you continue on with life. soulessly, you suppose, but every day keeps coming whether or not you want it to.

you keep checking your phone. it doesn’t even make sense why, because he’s probably too embarrassed and upset to text you. and he has every right to be upset at you right now. you left him when you got scared and haven’t even tried to say sorry, much less give him a proper response since that day. he has every right to be pissed at you.

and the shitty part is you know he’s not. because he’s taerae. because he was never mad at you. not when you bugged him when he tried to study. not when you barely worked during your library meetups. not when you were late and not when you were rude to him when you first had to start working together. 

he’s never been mad at you and you know every time you walk past him, he stops to look at you, hoping you’ll turn around, and the fact that you don’t is breaking him even more. all you know is that if he uses those puppy eyes on you one more time, all your resolve will crack. 

not falling in love was your main goal during college. years of being alone, part by choice and part by circumstance, made it so you felt you were better off by yourself. it’s hard to want other people when you’re not used to feeling wanted, and being in love just seems so scary.

were you in love with taerae? that was the real question, wasn’t it?

because he wasn’t that close of a friend. you had barely known he was more than an npc a few weeks ago, and you didn’t really know him that well. he was an enigma, a being you knew existed but nothing beyond his existence. and he wasn’t particularly charming. he was awkward. he was dorky. he didn't dress that well. he was really passionate about things and those things completely consumed him. he initially seemed like an anti romantic up until now, too focused on his passions and life to even think about love.

but every time he had said a dumb joke, you laughed. every time he tried to impress you with how cool he was, sure, it was kinda dorky, but you were impressed. and when he smiled at you, it felt like the world was okay in that instant. he gave you his jacket when he was cold once, he got your coffee before your study session once, and he cheered you on. 

maybe you did love him, but he must have given you no other option. nothing else you could do besides helplessly watching as he fundamentally changed who you were.

was it so bad to be in love with taerae? he’s beyond kind and has endless good will to give the world. and of course it was scary to be in love, but taerae wasn’t scary. he wouldn’t break your heart, he’d give you peace of mind and comfort. 

—

nothing sways you to talk to him quite like another person trying to flirt with him does. they’re attractive, a little mysterious, and intriguing from the get-go- if taerae’s crush on you was indicative of a type, they’d be his perfect match. 

they’re so clearly into him, you wonder if you looked like that when you hung out with him. maybe passerbys thought you were a couple before you were even friends. 

and he’s so clearly letting them flirt. he’s not making moves, but taerae doesn’t make moves like that. he wants to move slower than that. he doesn’t want to get into their pants, he wants them to romance him. he wants to feel courted. you’re not sure what you did to romance him, or how exactly your attitude made him feel courted. 

and it’s so hard to watch him be flirted with because you were the one who left him there. that could be you right now, but it’s not. taerae is letting someone else flirt with him and letting someone else tell him jokes and smiling that bright smile at someone else. that’s what really hurts. 

but you let them be while you jealously sip your coffee, talking to your friend sitting next to you.

“you need to talk to him,” they say, “you need to tell him about your feelings. even if you’re scared. he deserves honesty and you deserve to be happy.” 

and they’re right. you know they are. friends tend to be right about this kind of stuff.

and it takes all day to build up the courage. the second you think you could do it and make it out alive, you run over to his dorm room. it’s across campus, and you really could have just walked, but that means more time left alone with your thoughts, which is a big no no right now. 

—

it’s early in the evening, but even still you’re grateful that junhyeon took pity on you and took you to his dorm room that he shares with taerae. he left you guys alone to ‘talk’ he says with a smirk. if only you were sneaking in for something fun like that. and not to pour your heart out onto his floor and just hope that he’ll be okay with cleaning up the mess. 

“taerae!” you say as you burst into the room, locking the door as soon as junhyeon annoyingly shouts, “you're welcome!”. he looks up like a deer in headlights from his desk to see you tired, out of breath, holding the door against junhyeon until he gives up. he furrows his brows in confusion.

“what’s going on? are you okay?” he asks, "what's wrong? did someone say something?" he's got this look of protectiveness in his eyes. you wonder briefly if he thinks someone hurt your feelings and you came running to him for comfort. it's charming.

you shake your head, “i made a mistake and i came to fix it,” you say, that look in his eyes coming right back. like you’re back in that moment at the library. like it’s that fateful day again, with light wind in the forecast and pollen in the air. you remember nothing but how beautiful kim taerae looked and how painful it felt to run away. 

“i’m listening..” he says, trying to get you to continue, to say your side of everything, because you’re lost in thought and forgetting that he’s standing right in front of you.

you sigh, thinking maybe it’s best to back out, turning around to try the door. hopefully, junhyeon didn’t put a chair outside to keep you trapped so you could do 'things'. you almost commit to leaving, telling taerae you didn't have anything to say at all. it was easier than facing him. that’s when you see it. 

“what’s this?” you ask, pointing to the new bracelet in his pile of usual jewelry. 

“oh… my friend just got that for me, actually. i don’t think you’ve met that friend yet,” he says.

“was it the friend in the courtyard?” you ask, looking up at him. he can’t decipher the look in your eyes, but he nods. you’re half expecting a ‘how did you know i was in the courtyard?’ but you know he’s not going to pry like that. 

“taerae, i-” you start to say, and he looks up again, that hopeful look in his eyes. if you were a better person, you would have noticed how he looked at you the first time and never, ever let someone hurt him. even yourself. 

but you weren’t that person. you’ll learn to be that person now, though. his pretty smile depended on it. 

“i’m so sorry for leaving you there,” you say, getting right into it, “i’m sorry i never gave you a proper response to what you told me, and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to gather my thoughts. i’m so sorry, i feel horrible for how you must have felt when i left after you said all of that.” 

“it’s okay,” he tells you. it’s not and you both know it, “you don’t have to feel the same about me. that was my fault for falling for you and coming on so strong about my feelings. you weren’t ready for it and i scared you. i was in the wrong.”

and it hurts to know he’s still going to apologize after all of this. he’s too kind and too pure of heart. 

the bracelet comes back to your mind. and you have no right to be jealous because that person did nothing wrong. they were honestly probably a good distraction for him while you were being a coward. but the bracelet, a marker of something of theirs being on his wrist. the thought left a disgusting feeling in your stomach. it was clear in that moment exactly how you felt. 

you come closer to him, suddenly emboldened by the jealousy of a gift another suitor got him and the fact that he was so wrong in his assumption of how he felt. he takes a step back when you get a little too close, like he’s nervous. not scared, but timid about what’s going on. his breath hitches when you look down at his lips like you could devour him. you were so obvious. 

“taerae,” you say, and one last time, he looks up at you with doe eyes, “i thought i didn’t have feelings for you. and then i watched myself break your heart. i knew right there and then that these emotions couldn’t have been caused by anything other than me having feelings for you. i didn’t want to admit it, to you or myself, but…” you trail off, forgetting the last words of your sentence when his eyes find your lips, like he wants to have you now, finally knowing there’s shared emotions there, “i thought i didn’t feel anything romantic for people at all, like i was soulless, and you proved me wrong.” 

“...why did you run?”

“i was scared. i’ve always been afraid to fall in love. i kept thinking, ‘what if he broke my heart?’. i realized how dumb it sounded because… it’s just so unlike you,” you smile at him, seeing all the innocence and kindness in his eyes, and wonder how you ever could have felt scared to fall for him, “and i saw them flirt with you. i told myself i couldn’t be jealous, but it’s hard to not be. i wanted you first, kim taerae. i know it’s not up to me, but they couldn’t have you. i couldn’t let that happen.”

“...come take me then,” he says, still staring at your lips. he really won’t make the first move, will he? you smile to yourself as you step closer, pressing your lips to his briefly, pulling away, and then again, just… not so briefly this time. he pulls away first because lord knows you couldn’t have, “so what happened to ‘i never wanna fall in love’?”

“i didn’t want this initially, you know. falling for you was never a choice,” you say. he laughs with all his chest.

“such an anti-romantic. glad i could turn you,” he smiles, “i’m just happy, in all your hatred of romance and pickiness for people, you picked this loser.”

oh taerae, you’re not a loser. you’re just in love.

[icey--stars]

Heyyy I saw you're taking requests again and your recently posted a new fic (which I lovedddd) and I thought I'd share my idea with you too. You don't have to write it right away, I saw your posts that you are really busy these days so whenever you get to it, you get to it...I just wanted to share my idea

So I was thinking an Azris fic where the two have had their mating ceremony and everyone knows and everything. Azriel still works as a Spy master for Night and Autumn, working for the security of both the courts. But Rhysand being a controlling shit, tries to get Azriel more time in Night cuz he's still iffy about Eris. And Eris does the same so it becomes a tug of war. In the middle there is poor Azzy...working OVERTIME for both courts and going through his magic like crazy

One day, when the poor bat is at its limit, Azriel just collapses from exhaustion and draining his magic from his siphons. What do you think the reaction would be like? I think there would be guilt from both Rhysand and Eris but also a bit of a blame game

Anyways, you're welcome to take the story and spin it like you want. And even if you don't feel particularly inspired by it, it's completely fine (cuz the most recent one I saw from you was VERYYYY angsty too so I get why you might not be in the mood for ANOTHER angsty fic)

Still love your work and can't wait to read whatever you post about Azris

-🌹

Tug of War

Rhys and Eris get a tad possessive over their bat and fail to realize that he is trying to please both of them- well that is until he passes out. - 2.7k words

Author's Note: I deeply apologize for this being so late!!! I was incredibly excited over this idea so I actually don’t know what made me take so long xD. maybe the time skips I put in there messed me up, but regardless, I hope you enjoy! I won’t say this is my proudest work, but I hope I at least made your amazing idea come true <3

Content Rating: Teens and Up

TW: don’t work yourself to passing out because your mate and brother want you to be with them more than the other. that’s called people-pleasing and being a self-sacrificial fool. (don’t be like Az)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel

“Can you check on the Illyrian camps for me tomorrow?” Rhys asked as Azriel handed in his third report for the week.

Azriel internally let out the loudest sigh of all possible. He was already running on reserves at this point. But he also knew how much work Rhys and Feyre had on their shoulders. And Eris. He still had to check on the town of Redwood for him later today since there had been rumors of some sort of rebellion for some stupid reason.

“Sure,” Azriel replied. “What in particular?” He hated the Illyrian camps, but so did his brothers. He was just glad Cassian was willing to take over the Valkyrie training for the next week.

“Ironcrest and Windhaven. I want an update on the training programs for females to make sure they’re actually being trained and not thrown to the wolves,” Rhys explained.

Azriel dipped his head. “Right. As long as there isn’t much for Autumn I’ll try and spend a day there watching the training,” he replied.

Rhys hummed. “How is Autumn at this point? Much work coming from Eris?”

“I’ve got to check on a town today for rebellion rumors,” Azriel replied, cracking some of his knuckles as he backed away from Rhys’s desk. “Then write a report on it.”

“We’re not working you too hard, are we?” Rhys asked cheekily. “Being spymaster for two courts has to be exhausting sometimes.”

“I’m managing,” Azriel replied. “But I’ve got to be off. I’ll get to the camps tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, Az. Are you still going to be able to make it to a family dinner on Friday?” Rhys asked, standing up from his chair and walking around the desk.

“Probably,” Azriel replied. “Hopefully Eris can come along too if he’s not too bogged down by paperwork.”

Rhys grinned. Azriel was too tired to notice that it looked incredibly fake. “Great. Tell him that Cassian still wants that arm wrestle, ay? And to bring some Autumn whiskey. I know that stuff has grown on you.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, offering his brother a grin. “Live in Autumn long enough to drink the shit nightly and it will,” he replied. “Anyway, I’m off, Rhys. It’s noon already.”

Rhys smirked. “See you later, Az,” he said, waving.

Azriel quickly made his way out of the River House, feeling exhaustion weighing heavy on him as he winnowed into Redwood. Honestly, while he knew both of his High Lords were busy, that doesn’t mean everything needs to be done immediately. It seemed to be some sort of tug-of-war situation over his time. He understood it, of course. His mate deserved his time and his brothers were still a little unsure over his mate so they likely wanted to keep checking on him.

He was doing his best, but he truly was exhausted.

Azriel slipped into an alleyway in his shadows after hearing voices and refocused on his task ahead. It’d be fine, he supposed.

–––––

A week later, it was most definitely not fine. He had eyebags, his siphons were practically drained since he’d been using the energy he’d normally spare to use for magic as day-to-day energy just to survive the sheer workload he’d been given.

Now it was time for another family dinner. This one was luckily one Eris could attend in between his busy schedule.

Thank the Cauldron or he wouldn’t have had his mate to catch him when he almost stumbled face first into a wall after tripping over the edge of the carpet in the living room of the House of Wind.

“Az?” Eris prompted once he’d rebalanced.

“I’m fine,” He said, waving Eris off.

Eris seemed suspicious, but once they entered the dining room, the look quickly vanished.

“Az!” Cassian shouted happily as he entered.

As soon as Cassian had barged through everyone to come over and likely hug Azriel… he paused right before with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, looking Azriel up and down.

“I’m fine, Cass,” Azriel replied, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll rest tonight. Now get over here,” he commanded, opening up his arms for an armload of Cassian.

Cassian seemed a bit more hesitant, but wrapped Azriel up in his arms anyway. It wasn’t every day Azriel asked for a hug.

Eris still looked suspicious of him throughout the dinner, as did Cassian, but Azriel wasn’t spymaster for no reason. He had skills in hiding when he wanted to hide– whatever that may be.

“Oh, Az,” Rhys called as Eris and Azriel were about to make their way out. Azriel turned to look at his brother with a brow raised in silent question. “You think you could check the camps again to make sure the changes I ordered were actually implemented?”

Azriel internally groaned. “I’ll get to it,” he promised.

Eris seemed a bit tenser beside him, but Azriel was too tired to figure out the reason for it. “Still going to have time for the council meeting, Az?” He asked.

And fuck, right. Council meeting at noon, right. Some sort of new military policies as well as taxes.

“I’ll make it work,” he mumbled. “Camps can be done in the afternoon since the training sessions run late afternoon too.”

“Right,” Eris said, raising a brow. “I didn’t so much mean it that way, Az. I meant, will you have enough energy?”

“As I said, I’ll make it work,” Azriel promised. “Even be back in time for dinner probably.”

Rhys grinned at him. “Come visit me before you leave the Night Court, ay? Nyx wants to see his uncle a little more.”

Azriel nodded, holding back a yawn. He had to make this work. If his mate and his brothers were ever going to stop fighting over him, they’d each have to feel as if Azriel was giving them enough of his time. “I’ll come around,” he mumbled.

Rhys chuckled. “Go sleep, brother,” Rhys ordered. “I can tell you’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” Azriel insisted, wings flaring a bit behind him. “I’ve survived far worse than a little sleep deprivation anyway.”

–––––

Azriel barely slept that night. It was just one of those sleepless nights where his mind ran wild and nothing, not even Eris laying on his chest, could calm it. He had them from time to time, but this was possibly one of the worst times to have it. But regardless, when he woke up, he acted as if he’d had a semi-satisfactory sleep. He managed to conjure a well enough lie to Eris about having trouble getting to sleep for a little bit but eventually did. It worked to explain his eyebags anyway.

He and Eris prepared for the council meeting. Azriel kept having to go over the details in his head again and again, seemingly unable to keep his mind focused. He just had to survive today. And then tomorrow. He’d be fine even if his limbs might as well start shaking.

The council meeting almost put him to sleep with how boring it was, but he managed to keep up enough to support Eris throughout it. His mind was foggy, though.

The camps weren’t much better. He was just glad they were actually following directions at least for him. He should’ve probably stayed a while after to make sure, but his shadows were also weighing with his exhaustion. Most were lazy and some plain refused to go farther than a fingertip’s length away from him.

“Final thing,” Azriel muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes as he winnowed to the front of the River House. His head went dizzy and he swayed for a few moments, wings outspread for balance before he finally reoriented himself. He was surely fine, right? (He knew that was a lie but he had responsibilities.)

“Az!” Rhys called from the doorway happily, holding Nyx on his hip who was babbling excitedly and reaching out for Azriel.

Azriel smiled and reached over to take the little toddler from his father’s arms to nuzzle. “How’s my favorite nephew?” He asked, managing to put on a happy tone.

“Azzie!” Nyx screamed happily, wings outstretched in his excitement. “Play with me!” The toddler ordered.

Azriel smiled. “For a little bit,” he promised.

They all went inside and Azriel settled on the floor with Nyx to grab figurines and stuffed animals and play whatever imaginative game the toddler had managed to conjure this time. He had to admit, there was a migraine pounding in his head, only worsened by the toddler’s excited screaming.

Slowly, Nyx began to tire and then whined about being hungry. Rhys chuckled and moved to pick up the little one for dinner. Then his brother turned to him and smirked, “Oh, someone is here to pick you up.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion and he turned to see the front door opening to reveal his mate with that signature smirk on his face. Eris looked all too happy to have surprised him.

Azriel blinked slowly, taking in the information slowly and then began to stand up to greet his mate but his head began to spin and his limbs failed to obey. And then… nothing.

–––––

Eris

Eris had to admit, seeing his mate attempt to stand up and then collapse nearly sent him into a heart attack as he sprinted to catch the falling Illyrian. Rhys seemed equally alarmed, handing Nyx off to his mother before walking over.

“Az?” Rhys asked, poking his brother’s face.

Azriel didn’t stir which only served to alarm Eris even more. He tugged on the bond, but only found deep-rooted exhaustion. He knew his mate was tired, but tired enough to pass out? That was a whole new level.

“Do we need Madja?” Rhys asked, still concerned.

Eris hummed before shaking his head. “I think… I think he literally just passed out from exhaustion.”

Rhys seemed alarmed now, looking down at his brother’s head cradled in Eris’s lap. “Holy shit,” the High Lord muttered. “He was that tired? How hard have you been working him?”

Eris reeled a bit at those words, raising a sharp gaze to Rhys. “Excuse me? How is this my fault?”

“Well-”

“Don’t even start,” Eris cut in. “I honestly do not want to hear you attempt to place all the blame on me when you have also been giving him equal amounts of work to do. He was barely paying attention in my council meeting and then you put the camps on his shoulders-”

“This isn’t my fault,” Rhys growled defensively.

“Incorrect,” Eris said decisively.

“Well it’s not all my fault,” Rhys corrected, sighing. “Fucking hell…” he muttered.

Eris sighed as well. “It seems we need to coordinate a bit better before our bat decides to pass out again,” he mused.

“I didn’t think he’d work himself this far,” Rhys muttered. “He’s normally good at judging his limits, has even managed to judge Cass’s and I’s limits better than ourselves.”

“You know Az,” Eris muttered. “He works his ass off for the people he cares about.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing his face. “You’re both staying here tonight,” he said.

Eris shrugged. “Fine,” he agreed. Guilt was beginning to plague him, though. How did he manage to work his bat so hard that he passed out? He had been, he’ll admit, trying to get Azriel to spend more time with him. Guess he forgot Rhys was just as possessive over his family. And thus came their present situation: Azriel collapsed in a heap on the floor with his wings thrown every which direction and toy figurines digging into his sides.

“We pushed him too hard,” Rhys mumbled, but it sounded as if he didn’t mean for anyone to hear the words.

Eris sighed, reaching to grab the wood figurine to make Azriel a tad more comfortable. “We’re not making this mistake again,” he said.

“No, we’re not,” Rhys agreed. “Halve the work we give him?” The other High Lord offered.

Eris nodded while standing up and hauling Azriel into his arms with a grunt. “Tuck his wings, won’t you?” Eris asked, unable to stop his mate’s wings from dragging on the floor while he was just trying to hold Azriel’s obsessively large frame in his arms. They were of equal height, yes, but one of them was much stockier.

Rhys quickly moved forward, carefully and respectfully tucking Azriel’s wings where Eris could hold them off the floor. “His bedroom is this way,” Rhys said, leading the way through the hallways.

Azriel’s breathing was slow and calm as Eris set him down on his side in the bed. He took a moment to make sure his bat wouldn’t be sore from any positioned limbs before sighing and glancing back at Rhys standing in the doorway.

“Let’s let him sleep,” Eris recommended and, without waiting for Rhys’s response, used his own power to put out the faelights and walk out.

Rhys took one last glance at his brother before closing the door. “Are you sure we don’t need Madja?”

“Unless he hit his head on the fall, no. Which I’m pretty sure I saved him from,” Eris reminded him. “He’s tired. The only solution is sleep and I doubt he’d want a healer’s attention anyway.”

Rhys sighed and nodded, walking toward the living area. “Sorry for the immediate blame,” he mumbled quickly. “That wasn’t exactly fair.”

Eris hummed. “Forgiven,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure we can share the bat just fine.”

Rhys scoffed in amusement. “Guess we’ll let him rest for now.”

—————

Azriel

Azriel awoke to sunlight in his eyes and he groaned, rolling onto his stomach so his wings covered his face. Then he sat up quickly after remembering what happened before he had… passed out? He felt tired still, but maybe a little less exhausted than before.

He glanced around, relaxing at the sight of his room at the River House. And with Eris in the armchair with a book in his hand. Eris silently bookmarked his page and set down the book to look at him.

“Feel any better?” Eris asked.

Azriel sighed and turned to sit down facing his mate. “I’m-“

“If you start apologizing I might actually slap you,” Eris deadpanned, standing up as well to make the threat even easier to accomplish. “Do you feel better?” He repeated after reaching the bedside.

“Yes,” Azriel replied begrudgingly. “What happened?”

“You passed out from exhaustion,” Eris replied calmly. “Your brother and I moved you here.”

Azriel squinted a bit. “Which one?” He asked. Rhysand and Eris did not get along very well so he doubted it was-

“Rhys,” Eris replied, chuckling at his immediately confused and shocked facial expression. “And we’ve agreed to limit the amount of work we put on our poor bat before he works himself to death.”

Azriel huffed. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“You are somewhat fine now. About sixteen hours ago, you were not. And that falls on Rhys and I equally,” Eris replied firmly.

Azriel hummed. “Why do I feel like you two had an argument?” He asked, glancing at his shadows for confirmation.

“We did,” Eris replied before his shadows could even skitter to his ears. “And then we dealt with it like civilized High Lords. Relax, Azriel. Us changing your workload is to prevent your self-sacrificing ass from doing this again. And you are going to tell us when you are overworked, got it? If you don’t, you won’t like the punishment.”

Azriel huffed in disbelief. “I wasn’t being self-sacrificing-“ he protested.

“You were. Stop denying it,” Eris cut in. “You were trying to give us both your attention and we were fighting over you like a piece of meat. But we also need you now to tell us how much work is too much, Az. No more doing it all to make us happy. That isn’t how this works.”

Azriel sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Eris said, finally climbing into bed and running a hand through his hair. “Now, would you like a bath and then some relaxation time with your everloving mate?”

Azriel snorted at Eris’s words before asking, “Don’t you have to go back to Autumn?”

“My court can run itself for a few hours, Az. More than if needed. Even then, your only worry for now is to get back your energy so you don’t pass out.”

Azriel chuckled a little. “Alright,” he relented. “A bath does sound pretty nice.”

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

A/N: hope you enjoyed!! :D

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

[louiseolivier]

Saturday Snippet

I finally felt like writing again. This is the first chunk for Pride pt 4. Really hoping to keep the momentum up. famous last words.

Buck was on his back, head in Tommy’s lap with Tommy’s fingers carding through his hair. It had been a full week since they’d seen each other. Tommy filled in for a sick coworker on Thursday, and Buck switched shifts on Friday, so he could be off today. He didn’t know about absence making the heart grow fonder, but it did make him more desperate for all things Tommy. He leaned into Tommy’s touch and almost purred as Tommy scratched blunt nails in the short hair behind his ear. 

Their day could be divided into three parts: sex, sandwiches, and cinema. Although, calling D.E.B.S cinema was probably a stretch. They were sprawled out on a blanket at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, waiting for the movie to start. Buck had packed a bunch of snacks, and Tommy dug out a pair of stadium chairs for them. 

It was a nice evening. A persistent breeze kept the temperature bearable while the sun was out, but Buck was glad they remembered to grab their hoodies out of Tommy’s truck. They were going to need them later. Right then, though, Buck was perfectly comfortable leaching heat off of Tommy. 

A text notification chimed. “Is that yours or mine?” Buck asked. 

“Yours.”

Buck reached out and randomly patted the ground for his phone. Tommy snorted but took pity and placed it in Buck’s hand. “Thanks,” Buck said and smiled up at his boyfriend’s adoring face. He unlocked his phone, and his smile dipped. 

Brooke sorry, i’m booked. i have a few openings next sat and one sun. let me know. it’s good to hear from you buck!

The tips of Tommy’s fingers made it under Buck’s t-shirt and gave his stomach a scratch. “What’s wrong?”

Buck abandoned his comfy position on Tommy’s lap and sat up. “So, I was going to let it be a surprise. Although, now that I think about it, there’s no real ‘surprise’ for you. Like, you're not getting anything out of this, but it’s meaningful for me, and I want you there, but now it looks like it’s not going to happen? Are you working both Saturday and Sunday next week?”

“Evan,” Tommy said in that way that denoted Buck needed to get it together and stop rambling.  

Buck gave the text a second look before locking his phone. “Right. Do you remember Rose from the parade?” Tommy nodded, and Buck pushed forward. “So she has this really cool tattoo, and it kickstarted this urge for me to get a new one. Normally, my tattoos don’t mean anything, just something I thought was cool in the moment, but this year has been, like, transformative. I met you, I became aware of my bisexuality, our relationship - I want to commemorate that. And I was kinda hoping to do it when we were off next week, but she’s booked. She has openings next weekend, but I’m pretty sure you’re working.”

There was a wariness in Tommy’s expression, “And you want me there because…” 

Buck’s head tilted in confusion. “Because I want you to be part of the experience. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

Buck smoothed his thumb over the furrow between Tommy’s eyebrows. “You seem weirded out”

“Not weird so much as, I guess, I'm just processing. You’re not going to get my name tramp stamped on you or anything like that, right?”

Buck’s eye bulged and he burst out with an ungainly cackle. “Oh my god, no!” Tommy watched him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment but also charmed by Buck’s reaction. Buck swooped in and kissed him because he looked so cute. He then pulled their hoodies from a bag and tossed Tommy his before pulling his over his head. 

It was fully dark, and the screen in front of them burst to life. Buck gathered a couple boxes of candy and two beers from the cooler. Instead of sitting in the stadium chair next to Tommy, he settled between Tommy’s thighs and rested his back against Tommy.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Buck and lightly kneaded his ribs. “I’ll take Sunday off.”

“Really?! You don’t have to, you know, if it’s going to be a hassle,” Buck told him. He twisted off the cap of one of the beers and handed it to Tommy.

“You want me there, I want to be there. No hassle. I’m swimming in PTO time. If you actually want to do that Redwoods thing, we could spend a month there with the amount of PTO I’ve accrued.” 

Buck craned his neck to get a look at Tommy’s face. “Probably not a month, but I do want to go.”

“Really?” Tommy said, surprised.

Buck’s forehead furrowed, surprised at Tommy’s surprise. “Yeah, really. I was actually thinking this fall.”

“Oh. That’s good. We should make plans.” Tommy kissed the top half of Buck’s birthmark, and Buck closed his eyes, knowing a second kiss to the lower half was next. Tommy tightened his hold around Buck as the Destination Films logo appeared on the screen.

Buck cradled his beer between his knees and pulled out his phone. He texted Brooke that Sunday was a go, and then settled back to focus on the movie in front of him, and the heat of the man behind him.

Pride