#(Which I had complimented on their smooth running mere days ago.

[tvntheatre]

So, here have we, an entire page of insanity (and mostly nightmares.)!

I don't know how the fuck I want to draw the confounded The Merry Gentleman. Help he's invading my pages.

[hotwings0203]

Dead best husband dabi expects his wife to come home make him dinner and fuck his cock then spends the money she makes on beer

Tw:dubcon, misogyny, food play

It’s a tedious routine, almost like dreadful clockwork. You come home from your 9-5, take off your shoes, throw your keys on the counter, and not even before you make it into the kitchen is when his requests come out.

No, you say requests to keep yourself sane, but they’re actually thinly veiled commands.

“Where’s dinner? I’ve been waiting all day.”

“God, you look like a slut. Were they having an orgy at your work or somethin’? Is that what you were so busy doing all day? No wonder this place is a mess. Clean this shit up.”

“Hurry up, the lights broken. And you smell like shit, go wash-no, after you change the bulb.”

You have to look at your wedding photos frequently to remind yourself that he’s your husband, not some lowlife you picked up.

Except, every time you look at the pictures to evade his harsh insults and biting directions, it feels like the Dabi in your memorabilia sneers more and more rather than smiles.

It’s his permanent look, in fact, you’ve forgotten how it felt to feel a warmth in your heart when he smiled demurely at you. It’s hard to remember how his soft touch across your cheeks felt rather than the usual slap delivered to the sore skin.

When you walk in, he’s sprawled on the couch, a t.v remote in one hand and a beer in the other. He’s wearing a wife beater and shorts, absentmindedly scratching his balls when you utter a small “Hey hun.”

“Don’t you ‘hey hun’ me. Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and immediately make your way to the kitchen, with him leaping up from the couch and tailing behind you.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, what, you ignoring me now?”

He grabs the back of your neck and slams you face-first into the fridge, preventing you from opening the door.

“Ow! No, I was just looking for a snack-“

“-shut up. You don’t get to eat until I do, you cow. Or are you forgetting how this marriage works?”

He crushes your neck and leans forward to take a whiff of your hair.

“God, is that cologne? You cheating on me now?”

“No Dabi, we had a company lunch and I was just talking to some friends. Maybe that’s what you’re smelling.”

He lets go of you and throws you towards the sink. “Good. You better not be. If I find out some douchebag’s been putting his hands all over you I’ll slit his balls and make you eat em’.”

You grimace and wordlessly start putting pots and pans together, ignoring the rumble in your stomach. You didn’t even get a chance to take your suit off, but you don’t dare exit the kitchen until he’s had his fill yet.

He’s just hangry. That’s all there is to it.

Your husband scratches his stomach and ambles back to the living room, belching obnoxiously and running his hands through his unruly hair.

Hours go by as you slave over the stove, making his favorite desserts and dishes as your fingers begun to progressively cramp, your legs begin to burn as you stand and finish up. With him in the living room it’s easy to taste your own food and get some meager meal in between breaks, but you stop yourself from gorging without him.

Knowing Dabi, he’d measure how many cups of food you started cooking with and subtract it from how much remained now.

Even though it was your money that bought this food.

You’re at the sink a while later cleaning spoons when he strolls in again, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance of the kitchen. He watches you for a couple minutes, sighing and humming to yourself as you scrub vigorously.

He doesn’t take in the copious amount of dishes you made, he doesn’t compliment how spotless the place looks despite all the cooking that went down here, no. Dabi stares at the way your ass wiggles while you work, the way your body bends attractively over the running sink, your tits brushing against the countertop.

You yelp and drop a small plate when you feel hands encompass your waist. His body is pressed tightly against yours, his hips lightly humping you like an eager virgin does. The force of his weight against you pushed you forward and you have to quickly grab onto the sink spout to avoid falling face first into soggy sink food.

“Dinners almost done Dabi, I’ll be out with it in a bit.”

“Mmmh, I’m not interested in eating that kind of food right now.”

He rests his head on top of yours and you barely refrain from screaming. What the hell did that mean? Wasn’t he the one harping on you earlier for not cooking fast enough?

“God, you look like a perfect slutty housewife right now. ‘M gonna fuck you.” He mutters as he begins yanking your trousers off while bending you further on the sink.

Your hands brace on the wet banister as you let him take what he wants. Last time you refused, he shoved one of his beer bottle necks into your pussy and made you ride on it.

“Dabi-Dabi, the food.” You try to tell him to move the dishes being pushed around from him manhandling you up on the counter but he doesn’t listen.

One plate goes crashing onto the floor, your Alfredo sauce mixed with porcelain bits.

“Oops,” he says not so regretfully. When your panties are successfully ripped down, he lifts your waist and lugs you onto the countertop, your upper half plastered on the cool marble.

His patched hands snake their way up your shirt and push the fabric up along with your bra while his now naked hips start pushing against your bare cunt.

Your exposed tits are squished down and you hiss as your body envelopes the cold counter. You try to lift your head up but he pushes you head back down.

“Uh-uh, no moving ‘till I’m finished. This is what you get for dropping food on the ground. In fact-“

His eyes catch a hold of the mini cakes you whipped up, and a sly grin on his face erupts as he looks from them to your quivering hole.

“Why don’t you have a taste of it? One down, a couple more plates to go!” You cry out in frustration as his hand swipes across the bar and sends the cake dish flying onto the floor.

He pays no heed to the defeating crash, just merely inspects his fingers that got some whipped cream on them while he smack the plate.

“A chef’s gotta taste her own cooking right? This cunt definitely looks hungry and oh so greedy right now too,” he pouts mockingly and traces his cream-covered fingers around your labia, roughly circling your clit and mixing the sweet food into the crevices of your pussy.

“P-please Dabi, don’t. We can do this after dinner, I’m so tired right now! I have to clean up this mess too!”

But no amount of pleading satiates the sadistic bastard. He just yanks your head back and shoves his fingers in your mouth when you open it in pain.

“Suck on ‘em real good, just like how you suck off your bosses. That’s how you get all this fuckin’ money right? You show a little ass, flash some tits, suck some old geezers off-and boom! You’ve got a nice house, and nice husband.” He leers at you as you choke on his slender digits.

Only when you feel like you’re about to vomit is when he yanks his hand out and wipes up another stray glob of frosting from the side of a testing plate. He doesn’t waste any time in working his fingers back inside you, a different hole this time however.

It feels so wrong with a massive creamy glob being pushed along your walls along with expert fingers that know your body inside out, but no matter how disgusting it is, he still finds your spongy area and begins stroking. The smooth filling glides up and down your g-spot as the pads of his fingers batter your sloppy pussy, and in no time you begin moaning.

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi, fuck, please,-“

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi,” he mocks cruelly, pinching your clit and squeezing your squished nipples as he pulls his fingers out right at the tip of your climax.

You try to turn around and plead for release but he doesn’t let you. Without missing a beat he takes his bricked up cock in hand and taps it on your ass before gliding in your weeping, cream covered pussy.

The moan you let out is so lewd that even a pornstar would be proud. You hate him, hate this marriage, hate the way he orders you around and looks down on you regardless of how you shower him with love and money.

But holy fuck, when his mushroom tip bangs against your womb like that and drags up and down your sensitive cavern you forget all the abuse.

Back and forth, up and down, sideways and forwards is the way you feel fucked. For someone who just sits on the couch all day you wonder how someone with such frame could fuck like a stallion, barely missing a beat.

“Hah, haaa fuck, you little whore, yeah, bring that ass back on Daddy, show him what you show those creepy fucks at work.” He pants and strikes your ass as you ricochet off his pelvis, his balls slapping your sticky labia.

You whine and try to wriggle out of his intrusion when he sneers the insult, but he merely cages you in between his arms and hunches over your bare body, pumping into you faster than before.

Your open jaw clacks as your tongue drops out in pleasure, his animalistic grunts and curses going straight into your ear and sending you over the edge.

He cums before you, groaning and dropping his dead weight over your suffocated body, not bothering to aid in your pathetic rubbing against his deflating dick.

“A little bit more, please Dabi? I’m so close honey-“

His fingers twitch next to you as he regains himself, exhaling through puffed up cheeks and yawning widely.

“Shut up. You don’t deserve to get off after the mess you made here.”

He peels his sweat-soaked body off of yours and tucks himself back into his pants, regarding the mess on the floor.

All your hard work, gone within a few minutes of ruthless fucking. Which you didn’t even get off to.

He fishes out a crumpled $10 from his musty shorts and throws it at your face like a cheap hooker would take.

“Here. Buy some Plan B and get me some beer. And you better not leave before serving me some fucking food, useless bitch.”

[red-writes]

a/n: I literally thought about this before falling asleep and I had the weirdest fucking dream ever it felt too real now I need to write this so-

cw: body description (of junpei), somno, Junpei is a peeping tom, slight angst, fingering.

Junpei to most people is so weird. He’s unusually skinny for a guy his age. His collar bones protrude unfashionably and peak at you from under his too big t-shirt. His waist is slender and fragile, hip bones poking against the material of his pants. His limbs are so slim, it looks as though he hasn’t but an ounce of muscle on him. He acts weird too. He doesn’t talk to anyone and always sures his hair covers that eye of his. Despite other people finding him weird or awkward, you found him cute. Befriending him was a task all in itself, it was hard to but even harder to maintain a friendship with him due to him always keeping people at arms length. The truth is, you wanted to know him better- get closer to him. What started out as small kindlings of feelings grew and grew into the now roaring fire you held inside your heart. The rare smiles you’d get from him, the way his eyes lit up whenever you complimented him— those small things accumulated overtime until you left with a huge mass of emotions that you had no clue what to do with.

Maybe except one thing.

He looked so surprised, so happy when you told him how you felt, when you handed him that beautifully decorated letter. His face was slowly turning a mean shade of red. What you were expecting to come though didn’t, seeing as he told you he couldn’t accept your feelings. You gave him a sorry half smile that caused a pain within his chest that almost made it hard to breathe. You turned on your heel and walked away, hands clutching the small letter to your chest.

Rejection hurt. Your mother always says “the worst thing that can happen is that they tell you no” but it seemed she was for once, wrong. The friendship you’d worked so hard to build and maintain crumbled in a single second, like a sandcastle hit with ferocious tides. He didn’t speak to you anymore— in fact he avoided you, purposely taking the long routes to class so he didn’t have to see you, eating lunch on top of the roof so he didn’t have to eat with you. Scratch that, rejection didn’t hurt it fucking stung like a bee except this time it was your heart having the allergic reaction.

The whole truth is, Junpei was in love with you. In an instant, if he could, he would drop everything for you to be his. Seeing as he was already yours, unequivocally yours. But he was sick. The first day you’d began talking to him was the start of his sick desires. It began with following you home, footsteps light and unnoticeable. He just wanted to make sure you were safe, that’s all. Then he started peeking into your window while you slept, he did this all night and passed out on the bus ride to school. Eyes drooping and heavy, bags that scream tiredness. But he couldn’t help it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, nothing more.

Then it evolved into him breaking into your house. With your parents away for work and you all alone, he had to be the one to protect you, you were so innocent, too innocent and trusting of this evil world. He couldn’t find a rationale for stealing your used panties. Nor could he find a rationale for taking them home and sniffing and licking at the crotch part while he stroked his pathetic cock to your entrancing scent. Junpei realized long ago that he was in love with you, couldn’t you see he was just trying to protect you from himself? He too, was apart of the evil world, in fact he embodied it.

He’d come late one night, his mother holding him up at home before he could leave his house to go see you. When he got there and peered into your window, you were masturbating. A flush rose to his face and his cock jerked to life. This would be the first time he’s ever seen this before. He didn’t sneak in this time, instead opting to watch your fingers plunge in and out of your cunt whilst you whined, he snuck a hand down and began palming his already hard cock from over the fabric of his slacks. That’s when he heard it.

“Junpei!”

His name from your mouth. You were masturbating while thinking of him? He immediately pulled his hand away from his cock in fear that the thought alone would make him cum. He waited for you to fall asleep to finally make his entrance. His breathing was heavy and uneven when he stood in your doorway. He swallowed down some his excitement, he didn’t want to wake you. But today, he was at his limit, he couldn’t hold back his longing for you anymore. He stripped and laid his clothes gently on the back of your desk’s chair. He slid in bed with you and at the mere feeling of your bare skin pressing against his he shivered. His cock was already hard, if he’s honest, the smell of your room—the room filled with your scent, was enough to have him stiff as a rod.

He analyzed your features before doing anything. Your face was scrunched up in a look of sorrow with dried tear stains on your cheeks. He hadn’t known his lack of presence in your life made you so sad, it had a throb of pain shoot through his chest. He didn’t care, he deserved it. You were naked, exposed breasts rising and falling in time with your breathing, your thighs were still spread wide open and a hand was resting between them. Silly girl, didn’t you know you were supposed to clean up after doing something like this? He’s so excited he doesn’t know where to start first, his fingers lightly tread over your soft skin, running from your neck, down your arm until they reach the smoothness of your thigh. He wants to savor you, take his time but his cock is already beading pre-cum, it’s amazing what you do to him. He cups one of your breasts in his hand and your lips part slightly and he takes advantage of that by placing his lips over yours and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Even in your sleep you’re so needy for him your hips are subconsciously raising off the bed. How adorable, you’re so cute.

Junpei’s fingers pinch your nipple and tug on it which leaves you whining breathlessly into the soft kiss. Junpei finally pulls away after he thinks he’s going to suffocate from lack of oxygen, it wouldn’t be such a bad death if it’s by your hands but he did want to live a little longer to finish the task at hand. He slides his hand down the expanse of your tummy and gently nudges your hand out of the way until his fingers have complete access to your cunt. Junpei’s cock is grinding against your thigh, he’s so turned on and hasn’t even really done much to you yet. He spreads your cunts lips and uses a finger to gently rub up and down your slit. Your pussy feels so nice, it’s soft and mushy and still wet from your earlier activities. He could die happy now, if you were to wake up and hate him he’d be able to live with it—he finally got to feel your cunt with his own fingers.

His decides he wants to explore everything your body has to offer him, he doesn’t want to waste anything. His fingers stumble upon your clit. He curiously runs the raised bud back a forth a bit and your reactions are so perfect. Soft moans keep falling out of your mouth the more he plays with it. He can feel you becoming more and more wet under his ministrations. He takes a chance and slides a finger inside of your cunt. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your soft walls clamping down around his eager finger. Junpei’s breathing picks up and he slips in another finger, he slowly begins moving them in and out, mimicking the movements you did earlier. Your cunt feels heavenly around his fingers, your back is arching now, moans becoming louder as he grinds his cock against your soft body. He’s gonna cum soon.

He hasn’t even stuck his own cock inside of you and yet he’s already on the edge. It’s just your cute reactions are bringing him far closer than he’s ever been before. You’re so perfect like this, brows furrowed as you struggle around in your sleep. His fingers thrust upwards in an attempt to thrust them deeper inside of you. He rubs the pads of his fingers against a spongy spot that has your thighs shaking. He’s panting at this point, his hot breathes are hitting directly against your ear. He can feel your cunt spasm around your fingers and when he tries to pull them out you’re sucking them right back in. Oh god, you came didn’t you? He can’t help the way his hips stutter, his cock twitches as he shoots his cum over your lower half.

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt and he opens his mouth and sucks them clean. He sits up and begins climbing out of your bed. He feels so bad. The guilt is washing over him in waves, he knows he’s sick but that’s why he can’t be with you. His mind can’t help but flash back to the sad look on your face from before. It makes his heart hurt again and begins to get dressed. You sit up, voice still laced with sleep, “leaving already?”

Junpei’s body stiffens once he hears the sound of your voice.

“Junpei I..”

He merely shakes his head and hurries out of your room as quickly as possible, you try and follow him out but your legs feel so heavy you can hardly walk properly. You’re stumbling out of the room and into the doorway.

“Please! Wait- Junpei!” You call out but he’s already gone, leaving nothing but disappointment in his wake. You can feel the hotness of tears well up behind your eyes as you slump down against the wall, with your knees pulled up to your chest you can do nothing more but cry.

[stardusttrashed]

Lovestruck

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Sasha x Connie 

Word Count: 4K

Part 2

“Have you ever seen a man that good-looking?” You hummed at Sasha’s comment, not even bothering to look up from your screen to see who she was referring to. “I mean, wow! He’s like a greek god or something.” 

Connie rolled his eyes in amusement at his girl’s rambles. “He does have nice eyebrows,” he joined in.

She whipped her head towards Connie with a dumbfounded smile. “Right?! He could probably cut someone with those cheekbones.” 

With a sigh, you looked up from your laptop, finally indulging the two. “Who’s the so-called Greek god,” you asked in an unamused tone. Your eyes followed Sasha’s finger through the fairly empty coffee shop until they landed on a man sitting alone by the window.

Sasha was right, which didn’t often happen unless it involved food. He was intimidatingly perfect, chiseled from his face to his body. The sunlight hung around him like a cloak, providing an angelic glow that shadowed his strong cheekbones and jawline. He leaned casually in the chair, his large frame towering over the plastic structure as his arm rested on the table. His hand loosely held onto the cup in front of him, ever ready to take another sip. His other hand held a book in the air. The book looked small in his hands like it was merely a phone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he glanced up from his book, giving you a perfect view of his face. You couldn’t believe your eyes. More accurately, you couldn’t believe the cerulean eyes and incredibly thick eyebrows you saw. “You’re shitting me,” you breathed in disbelief. Sasha and Connie turned to face you with curious expressions. You bit back a girlish smile and shook your head, “it’s nothing.” You shrugged off their unconvinced looks and quickly added, “I just, uh, I used to have him as a teacher.”

Sasha’s eyes practically bulged out of her head at your words, “you’re telling me you had that-” she gestured to the man across the room, “- for a teacher, and I’m just now hearing about this?! How’d you even focus? What’d he teach? Was he always this good-looking? Does he still teach?” Connie opened his mouth to interject, but Sasha cut him off by placing her finger on his lips. “No, I’m going to Mystery inc. this and get to the bottom of this. She’s been withholding valuable information!”

You let out a chuckle and ducked your head in embarrassment. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you trailed off. “It was years ago. He probably doesn’t even remember me.” You tried to sound as carefree as possible despite the butterflies at the thought.

“That’s not what I-” Sasha quickly shut her mouth as another voice joined the conversation. 

“I thought it was you,” a smooth husky voice cut in. You looked up to see the greek god smiling gently at you. His thick eyebrows knitted together nervously when you didn’t reply after a moment. “Y/n, right?”

Your cheek warmed as your name fell from his lips. It fell from his lips so naturally like it belonged there, filling you with an indescribable warmth. “Mr. Smith,” you breathed as a giddy smile formed on your lips. “It’s been a while.” You wet your lips as you not so subtly looked him up and down. He was a lot more muscular now than he was a few years ago. He had practically doubled in size since you last saw him. The rolled-up sleeves of his off-white button-up shirt clung to his arms desperately. A few buttons were left open, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his collarbone. 

Sasha was right. He was nothing short of a greek god. He was enough to make statues envious.

The worry in Erwin’s face dissipated into a dreamy grin, “far too long.” You looked exactly like he remembered you, gorgeous. He cleared his throat as he looked down at the book in his hand. “I was passing by and saw you,” his icy blue eyes met yours. “I was going to ask if you would like to catch up, but I see you’re busy.”

“She’d love to,” Connie quickly answered for you, nudging Sasha under the table. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Sasha stammered as she rose from her seat. “We had things planned anyway.”

“Right,” you drawled, turning your attention towards the couple that was preparing to leave. 

“Yeah, so we’ll see ya later,” Connie hurriedly responded. His words spilled out like water from a broken dam as he gathered your stuff for you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you knew anything you said would only fall on deaf ears. Connie stood up and walked off hand and hand with Sasha.

You could hear their mischievous giggles until they were finally out of sight. You shook your head with a chuckle before looking back up at Erwin. “Well, Mr. Smith, it looks like you’re in luck. My schedule just so happened to free up.” You shrugged, flashing him a gentle smile, “what a coincidence.” 

“Looks like it was meant for us to catch up,” Erwin remarked with a nervous chuckle. He offered his hand to you, helping you out of your seat. He tucked his book under his arm, freeing his other hand so he could grab your bag for you before handing it to you.

A bashful smile graced your lips at his actions as you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you.’ You had always pictured him as quite a gentleman, but his chivalrous acts melted your heart. You walked by his side quietly until you reached a nearby park. Erwin led you under a tree, stopping you so he could lay his jacket on the ground for you to sit on.

“Hope you’re not trying to impress me, Mr. Smith,” you giggled, sitting down on his suit jacket. Your hands absentmindedly busied themselves, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat.

“Just doing what feels right.” He chortled as he sat beside you. “And it’s just Erwin.”

“Alright, just Erwin,” you joked in a silky voice. 

He laughed his first real laugh of the day, the sound coming from deep with his stomach. “Still as witty as ever.” His ocean eyes never left your face once, too stunned to look anywhere else. 

He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on you. You took his breath away from the very beginning. Every part of you intrigued him, from your looks to your brain. The way the sun shined off your melanin skin made you look like nothing short of a goddess in his eyes. The golden highlight was almost too much for him to take. There was a glow about you that he couldn’t find anywhere else no matter how hard he looked. It didn’t matter if you were outside or under the dead fluorescent lights of the classroom, you were a star, demanding attention without ever really trying. 

“Wow,” he breathed quietly after a moment. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

You giggled shyly and rolled your eyes. “Wish I could say the same about you. You look like you could give Chris Evans a run for his money.” You enjoyed the small blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m serious. The Mr. Smith- er, Erwin I knew wasn’t as,” you trailed off, growing too embarrassed to continue. You looked down at your pants instead, picking at the threads.

Erwin was thankful you stopped yourself from continuing. He didn’t think his cheeks could handle any more compliments from you. Had you continued, he probably would’ve ended up looking like a tomato. “Thank you.” He scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

You fought back a cheeky smile as you noticed him timidly look away. Despite his outer appearance, he was a big softie. It was like being next to the big friendly giant. “So, what do you do for a living nowadays? You still a teacher?”

“I am actually, they made me one of the official creative writing professors. It doesn’t leave much free time for writing anymore, but I love it nonetheless.” He smiled wistfully as he watched the people walk past. A few quiet moments passed before he brought his attention back to you. “Y’know, I’ve seen a lot of bright students come and go, but none have been quite as amusing as you.” Erwin bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he wasn’t being too forward. 

You shrugged off his comment, oblivious to their hinting undertone, “we were a good class and your first class. Of course, we’re going to leave an impression on you.”

He hummed thoughtfully in reply as if that wasn’t what he was getting at. “What about you? What’d you end up doing?”

“I guess you can say I took after my favorite teacher and became a writer.” You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, gauging his reaction.

“I was your favorite teacher?” Erwin couldn’t help the bashful smile that forced its way onto his face. 

“Wow,” you dragged out dramatically with a teasing smile. You met Erwin’s steady gaze and playfully pushed his arm. It took every ounce of self-control not to leave your hand resting on his bicep. You pushed the thought aside, choosing to continue to tease him instead. “Someone’s cocky! You aren’t the only teacher I had who wrote.”

“Then who, if I may ask, was it?”

“Just some teacher, you probably wouldn’t know them. Y’know big campus and all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Right,” Erwin drawled out with an amused smile. “Well, just in case you ever need some help or a writing buddy-,” he fished around in his pockets before pulling his phone out, “-maybe I should give you my number.” His eyes flashed down to his phone. “Just assuming your favorite professor is busy or anything.” 

You chewed on your lip, fighting back a playful smile. “Of course, there’s no such thing as too many connections.” Erwin hummed in response, handing you his phone. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently brushed against yours. 

“Ah,” you exclaimed once you caught sight of the time, “crap! I told him I told Eren I wouldn’t be late again.” You groaned, handing back the phone as you scrambled to your feet. “I’m sorry I have to go,” you sent Erwin an apologetic smile. “It was really nice catching up. We should do it again sometime! Ugh, hopefully, Armin is there to make sure  he doesn’t kill me.”

Erwin opened his mouth to remind you about the phone but decided against it at the last minute. “Be safe,” he called out to you as you ran off. He wasn’t even sure you had heard him, probably too caught up in rushing to hear clearly. His eyes followed your frame until it disappeared in the crowded streets. A disappointed sigh fell from his lips. Letting you leave the second time wasn’t any easier than the first. He thought maybe this time would be different. This time he would have the courage to ask you to stay without any restrictions. 

He chuckled at himself as he stood up and gathered his things. Here he was pitying himself over the fact that you had left again. Yet, fate had brought you together twice already. If he had the chance to see you again, he promised himself that he would let you walk away so easily. After all, they say third times the charm. 

***

“What is it,” Levi asked, earning a quiet hum from Erwin. He took a sip of tea before continuing. “You keep scanning the room like you’re looking for someone,” he noted. “You’ve barely paid attention to any conversation. Plus,” Levi set his cup down before leaning his chin on his hand, “you made us drive thirty minutes to go to a coffee shop even though you have one walking distance from your house. So, what’s so special about this place?” He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the back of it. “Cause apparently, it’s not the coffee.”

Erwin looked down at his still full cup of coffee, which was now lukewarm at best. He chuckled embarrassedly, hoping the sudden warmth he was experiencing was just his imagination. His order was long forgotten, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of you. “Guess I’ve been caught,” he smiled embarrassedly.

“You’re kidding right,” Sasha yelled at you as you walked through the door. “You left Mr. Perfect without giving him your number.  To go be with Eren?” She looked to Connie with a baffled expression for support. “Am I the only one who sees how stupid that was?”

“Relax already,” you sighed. You had already gotten this speech before over text. You got it repeatedly, actually, at least once every day for the past week. “I know. I wasn’t thinking-.”

“Oh, I know,” she cut you off. “That’s like you having a perfectly juicy steak handed to you, just for you to reject it for a cold chicken nugget.”

“Eren is cute in his own way,” you tried to defend him only to be completely ignored. 

“Well, Armin is more like a steak too, just a little one,” Connie chimed in as he read the menu. 

“True. Wait, no, that’s not the point.” She stopped mid-rant to tell the cashier her order. “The point is she had-.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You paused to put in your order before following Sasha to your usual table. “I left Erwin to go meet up with Eren, who was fucking late anyways.”

“Yeah, sure, no worries. No need to pitch in or offer; I got it,” Connie grumbled as he paid. He trailed behind you and Sasha, plopping down in his usual spot with a childish huff. 

“Thank you, lovebug,” Sasha cooed, pecking his cheek. “You’re the best, unlike some people.” She glared playfully at you from the corner of her eye. 

You sighed melodramatically, practically rolling your eyes into the back of your head. “How long are you going to hold this over me?”

“She’ll think about the answer to that while you go get our drinks,” Connie answered for her with a devilish smirk. 

“Wow,” you drawled with a feigned hurt expression, “you too, Connie?” You shook your head disappointedly, “can’t trust no one.” You begrudgingly walked over to the counter where three drinks sat. You nearly dropped the cup in your hands as a familiar voice spoke up behind you. 

“Mind if I give you a hand?”  

“Erwin,” you gasp, jumping harder than you’d like. The scalding tea on your skin left little time for you to feel embarrassed. “Ah,” you hissed under your breath as you quickly placed the cup back on the counter. “Fuck.”

“Apologies,” Erwin quickly stepped in beside you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Without thinking, he took your hand into his own, cradling it like you were made of glass. His warm hands were nothing in comparison to the rising heat in your cheeks as he gently wiped your hand with a napkin. “I just wanted to say ‘hi,’” he continued in a low bashful voice.

You couldn’t help the soft giggles that tumbled from your lips. There he was, being a big friendly giant again. You looked up at him for the first time, watching the way his brows furrowed with concern. “Well, I’m glad you did.” You gave his hand a grateful squeeze, “wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you again. I definitely need all the help I can get with my new project.”

“I- uh, well,” he stumbled over his words, quickly retracting his hand from yours. He carefully grabbed all three cups. “Where to?” He felt childish getting this flustered over just being around you. The small smile on your face was enough to send his heart into overtime. 

You plucked your cup from his hand, gingerly taking a sip. With a nod, you led him to your table. 

“Took you long en-ah!” Sasha’s eyes bulged out of her head as her eyes landed on the towering figure behind you. “What the hell,” she exclaimed, causing a few curious glances to be cast in her direction. “I- you,” she focused her gaze on you, “how’d you manage to find the greek god again?”

Your eyebrows shot up more in embarrassment than in surprise. Sasha was never once for subtleties, always the most outspoken one of the group. You set your cup down with a sigh. “I’m sorry about her,” you turned to him with an apologetic. “Erwin meet Sasha and Connie-,” you took their cups from his hands and set them on the table, “-Sasha and Connie meet Erwin.”

Connie nodded in acknowledgment, “feel free to sit with us.” You could tell he was trying to play it cool for your sake. Truth be told, Sasha had him just as invested in the man as she was. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it damn sure is fun. Who needed reality tv when they could just watch you?

Erwin could feel your hopefully expectant gaze focus on him, yet his eyes remained trained on Connie. Probably to keep him from turning any redder. He was already on the verge of becoming a tomato as it is. “I actually came here with a friend.” 

“Invite him over,” Sasha blurted out. She ignored the way you momentarily glared daggers at her for pushing the subject. “The more, the merrier.”

They both looked like they had turned to putty as Erwin chuckled quietly. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought they were the ones with a crush on him. Not that you had a crush on him. You just liked admiring the man and being around him. “Guys-.”

“So this is why you’ve been dragging me here every day,” a cold, unfamiliar voice cut in. His voice alone was enough to send chills down your spine. So much so that you nearly missed that he said Erwin was coming here every day. Even Sasha and Connie straightened up under his presence. “Interesting. Mind if I take a seat?”

You turned to the man, catching his piercing eyes finish looking you up and down. He was shorter and leaner than Erwin, but something about his presence made him seem like the more intimidating of the two. “Y-yeah, sure.” You paused for a while, allowing his words to register in your mind.

“Everyone, meet Levi,” Erwin broke the silence as he took a seat next to you. “Levi, meet Sasha, Connie, and Y/n.” 

“So you’ve been coming here every day,” you blurted out, getting the attention of everyone. You waited for an answer but only received a bashful smile. Your mind was moving a mile a minute. You were sure you were making a bigger deal of this than necessary. 

“Starting to think he doesn’t come here for the drinks,” Levi said smugly, answering for Erwin. “Or maybe I’m just imagining things,” he mumbled into his cup.

You took a seat between Levi and Erwin, your eyes never leaving his frame. 

“Y’know, I like this place a lot,” Sasha chimed in, barely able to hide her cheeky smile. “But I don’t think the scenery is great enough to make me come here every day.”

“I’ve definitely had better coffee,” Connie shrugged. 

“Tea is nothing to brag about either,” Levi agreed despite taking another sip from his cup.

You could feel the embarrassment radiating off of Erwin. With every new playfully dig, it seemed harder to get him to meet your gaze. His ocean eyes landed everywhere but on you. 

“That’s an interesting-looking napkin, huh,” you asked teasingly in a voice only he could hear. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Well, the prices are nice, though,” Sasha continued to tease slyly. You glanced over at Sasha with an exasperated glare, which she shrugged off. “So, Levi- was it- how do you know Erwin?”

“You’re loving this aren’t you,” Erwin groaned, finally bringing his eyes up to meet your own. He was enjoying every minute of looking at your playful smile, basking in the welcoming warmth. He shook his head with a chuckle, already knowing your answer from the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Oh, every minute,” you giggled as you pointed a finger at his rosy cheeks. “Between you being a tomato and finding out Erwin the Greek god Smith came here looking for me-.” 

“Cocky much?” Erwin flashed a dashing smile, “who said I was looking for you?”

You nodded, holding back a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. How silly of me.” You took your phone out with a shrug, “guess there’s no point in asking for your number then.” Erwin opened his mouth as if he was about to protest but quickly closed it.  

“Hey,” Sasha interjected with a huff. “What’s the fun in making fun of you two if y’all just go into your own little la-la lands.” 

“We weren’t,” you stammered before getting cut off by Connie.

“Were. We had a whole conversation, and you two didn’t even notice,” he stated matter of factly with a shrug before his mischievous grin returned to his lips. “At least exchange phone numbers this time.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, far too embarrassed to glare or come up with a retort. Your mouth opened and closed a few times like a gasping fish before you decided to keep your mouth closed with a huff. Just as you were about to change the subject, you noticed Erwin reach for your phone lying on the table. 

“We were actually just getting to that,” Erwin replied with a cocky yet teasing grin. It was like someone flipped a switch on him. He was no longer this huge blushy and shy giant next to you. He exuded confidence but never crossed over into being cocky or egotistical. He took your phone in his hand and handed it to you so you could unlock it. “Y’know before we were interrupted from our ‘la la land’ and all.”

Sasha looked to you with a surprised expression as if asking for confirmation. You weren’t sure which was more shocking to her, that you were actually about to exchange numbers or that Erwin was finally retaliating. You mimicked Connie’s nonchalant shrug from a few moments ago as you unlocked your phone for Erwin. 

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats as Erwin typed in his contact information. Even Levi was visibly intrigued, though he tried to hide under his regular hardened and uninterested expression. Erwin didn’t notice anyone but you, however. All he could feel was your warmth beside him and your gaze locked on his hands. Having your undivided attention made him want to type even slower. 

“Geez, what are you, a turtle? Actually, I think I’ve seen turtles move faster,” you teased with a nervous chuckle. The sudden quiet atmosphere at the table was too much. You felt the need to say something. Was that the best? Probably not.

Erwin laughed a throaty laugh, “someone seems eager.” His eyes flitted up to yours, “guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were the same way in class. That’s probably why you were one of my favorites. But I feel the need to remind you,” he handed you your phone, “sometimes taking things slow is what makes it fun.”

The way he held your gaze sent your mind into a drunken-like daze. He was intoxicating in every way, completely taking over your mind until all you could think of was you and him. “Dealing with all these writing deadlines might’ve made me forget that.” You leaned closer, resting your chin in your palm. “Maybe I need a demonstration to help jog my memory.”

Erwin looked at you with a lopsided smirk. His eyes trailed down your face, landing on your lips longer than he intended. Every ounce of him wanted to take you up on the suggestion, but he wasn’t sure if you were being serious or just teasing. 

“There you two go again,” Levi interrupted. You quickly sat back in your chair, creating room between you and Erwin. You could faintly make out a small chuckle from Levi. “If you two wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask.”

“N-no,” you quickly stammered. “It’s not like that.” You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s just-,” you glanced at Erwin with a small smile, “-it’s nice seeing one of my favorite teachers again.”

“I sure hope your classroom wasn’t filled with as much sexual tension,” Sasha murmured. 

Erwin raised an eyebrow in confusion. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but closed into a tight line. 

“On that note, I should get going.” You quickly rose from your seat, avoiding making eye contact with Erwin. “Got another meeting with Jeager-bomb.” Sasha practically rolled her eyes into the back of her head but kept her mouth shut. At least you got his number before running off again. “Bye, guys! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Levi.” You finally let your fall on Erwin, who had a somewhat expectant look on his face. “I’ll call you the next time I need help,” you couldn’t fight the girlish smile tugging on your lips.

“I look forward to it.”

[fallin-4-ya]

the wind felt different / f.w.

The Wind Felt Different 

fred weasley x reader

summary: a year after the war has passed, pain still lingers in the air. y/n, a descendant of seers who runs a small divination shop in diagon alley, still is unable to shake her loss. but when she gets a vision of the man who saved her life, the wind takes matters into its own hands.

warnings: mentions of death! slight mention of vomit! dealing with a tragedy! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!) (fred lives! post war!)

words: 1.7k

requested? no/yes

memories are the worst form of torture.

The wind felt different. Diagon Alley was not the same. The breeze was shallow, cold and bitter. While the streets of the magical alley lay scarce, hurt still lingered.

Y/n walked through the cobblestone path, early that morning. One year had officially passed. One year of hurt. One year of frustration. One year of hopelessness. One year since the world she had built with her own two hands came crashing down on her.

She unlocked the door to the small shop, snugged between two tall buildings on the main pathway. It had looked the same as it had for the past however many years. Only a store, specializing in divination supplies. This was her dream, her world. Her sister’s dream, her sister’s world. Eyes flickered up to the sign that read ‘Divination Goods, A Family Run Business’. She felt everything come up. Unable to differentiate if it was vomit, tears or screams; she grabbed a potions vile and threw it at the sign. Grasping the crystal ball beside her, pitching it towards the words.

It lied.

It was all a lie. y/n tore the sign down, staring daggers into it. Everything was different, nothing was the same and her eyes welled up, tears cascading down her face. This was her dream, this was her sister’s dream. It wasn’t her dream though any more, but a nightmare. Because, now she had to live it alone.

The faded letters and drooping wall paper had been in her family for generations. A family of Seers. Yet, none of them saw it coming. It happened too quickly, too quickly to stop fate or change the past. Cries, pleads for help, that’s what y/n remembered.

A year ago, was not long enough to forget, nor would a lifetime. She sat on the ancient wooden floor, head tucked into her knees and cried.

An hour passed, two maybe. She got up and dusted herself off. This isn’t what she would have wanted, what anyone would have wanted. She would have wanted her to pick up the broken pieces. So, y/n started small, picking up the sign and gently hanging it back on the wall where it belonged. With a wave of her wand, the shattered glass of the vile became whole again and she placed it back on the shelf. Then, she looked down at the crystal ball, somehow remaining to stay whole through its plummet to the wall. y/n scoffed to herself, laughing because her sister had always said that those things could survive the end of the world.

‘You know, y/n,’ said the gentle girl. ‘They don’t only show us the future. They show us what we need to see. What we need to heal.’

She picked it up with gentle fingers, placing it carefully on its stand. y/n gazed into it longingly, searching for an answer or perhaps a way to ease her pain.

She stared at herself, her face was scuffed and dirtied, her arms were covered in bruises.  A wand gripped tightly in her fist, and scowl crawn upon her face. This was a memory, only a moment in time she had lived.

Screaming faces and worried looks circled her. Unresponsive as ever, unable to move one foot ahead of the other.

“Run!” someone yelled at her, but she did not move or bat an eye. A tear slipped silently down her cheek. “Go, get out of here!”

y/n turned towards the voice that called out to her, a tall man towering over her. His eyes were warm, a sense of comfort amongst the chaos. Bright lights of spells being casted lit the night sky, and suddenly if by chance a loud explosion was heard coming from the wall next to the two.

The man though quickly, holding y/n tightly and pulling her out of harm’s way, avoiding a collision by mere inches. At the time it hadn’t occurred to y/n that her life could have been lost if it wasn’t for the man. She hadn’t even known his name. Never thanked him for saving her life.

y/n exhaled deeply. Who knows where he is now, she mumbled, if he’s even alive. Her heart broke thinking about it, too many lives were lost. Too many ghosts claimed too soon. Memories were the worst for of torture, and time heals nothing.

She walked outside, taking in the empty streets. The wind felt different, but this time it was calling her. She felt it in her bones, persuading her to walk. Nothing was the same, but it couldn’t get any worse. So, she took a step and went where the wind told her.

Her shoes clapped along the cobblestone and her hair felt free in the comfort of the breeze. She gawped at the buildings that passed, a sense of childhood nostalgia caving in her heart. This is where she grew up, this is what she knew. Yet, still so much had changed.

y/n stopped and looked up at the colorful building that lay before her, this surely hadn’t been here before. The orange and purple paint stood out against the bricks of gray and black. She heard a bell ring inside, it was calling her.

Hesitantly, she peeped her head through the front door. A joke shop. This is where she was called to. The bright colors smeared across the walls made y/n feel different. A good different.

She took a step further into the room, admiring the small toys displayed on the walls, however she hadn’t a moment of silence before tripping over her own two feet, knocking over some of the inventory. Y/n gasped, quickly picking up all of the fallen boxes when she heard a voice stir at her from across the way.

“Not to worry, love,” said the smooth voice. “Happens to the best of us.”

Y/n turned towards the mellifluous sounds, a smile on her face. She looked up, her eyes meeting the man’s who stood in front of her. Her smile dropped, gazing at him. The flaming hair and those gentle eyes.

That was the man who saved her. The one she saw in her crystal ball. Her heart shuddered and breathing halted. Surely, the wind had never meant to bring her here; and surely, she wasn’t ready for something like this. She thought she would have seen this coming, whether it be through the stars or the cards or the moon.

Y/n took him in gently, for all that he was. “I know you,” she whispered softly. “You saved me. In the battle of Hogwarts, you saved my life.”

The man who stood opposite her didn’t move. He looked at her intently, as if trying to remember in which moment their pats had crosses. y/n interrupted his thinking, “It was after my sister was killed. You pushed me from the wall. I only realized it just today, you see, I saw it in a vision. The wind brought me here.”

“I remember you. I think about you more often than not. How you looked, how brave you were.” He sighed. His heart ached for her, longing to know her. The man paused with a smirk, “The wind?”

She laughed, “I know how silly and made up it sounds, but it’s true. I’m y/n by the way.”

“Fred,” he answered back. “And just so you know, I don’t think it’s silly at all. In fact, I think it’s pretty cool.”

Fred hesitated, “I almost died that night.” His face grew almost pale, but the warmth in his eyes remained. “I just kept thinking about my family, my future. I had to get out for them. And when I saw you, standing there alone, I knew I had to live for you too.”

Fred smiled at the beautiful young woman; no matter her hurt or her heartache, her skin glowed and her smile could light any darkness. An instant connection enraptured them. A feeling of hope flooded through their veins.

Fred voiced in the silence, “Would you like to go out sometime?” A lopsided grin spread across his face paired perfectly with the warmth crawling up y/n cheeks.

~~~

The pair sat on the steps of the small run-down divination shop. It was holding in tact by nothing but a string, just as the two of them were. But, with each breath spent together, their tiny string became a rope and from their rope a metal beam was built. They picked up each other’s piece and carefully placed them back together.

Y/n’s head rested gently against Fred’s shoulder, watching the children run along the cobblestone pathways happily. Her had placed softly in his, holding as if it were their last moment. Y/n pondered in thought. She thought about the way the sun still rose everyday and the stars still formed in he sky, yet her pain remained the same.

“They say that time heals all, but I think they’re lying,” y/n stated, twiddling her fingers.

Fred let out a soft chuckle, “I think memories are the worst for of torture, and only with time are they put into perspective.”

She looked up at him, tears embracing the corners of her eyes. It felt like she had known Fred the entirety of he life, she trusted him. She felt like she was home.

y/n laughed, “You know what’s funny? My sister always told me that crystal balls don’t just tell us our future, but show us what we need to heal. And I can’t help but to think it ironic, how I saw you on the day I needed help the most.”

Fred turned to face her, a glimmer in his expression. He smiled and his heart glowed, he forgot for just this moment the hurt and the sorrow. Fred placed his hand gently over her, her cool fingertips, complimenting the heat absorbing his body.

“You are the strongest woman I have ever met, y/n,” he whispered weakly, his feelings too overjoyed to form words.

“And you, Fred Weasley, and the greatest man I have yet to know,” she smiled softly back at him, locking their eyes. y/n brought their intertwined fingers to her soft lips, tightening her grasp.

“Thank you,” Fred stated.

“Whatever for?” y/n shyly asked.

“For finding me,” he spoke softly.

She smiled dearly at the man bestowed upon her, “My love, we have the wind to thank for that.”

And the wind felt different that day. Diagon Alley was not the same. But perhaps this time, in a bit of a better way.

[jalapeno-princess]

10:34 A.M.

The sunlight was warm against your cheeks as it shone in through the windows; yet, it wasn’t the harsh rays that woke you from your comfortable slumber.

You could feel a tender gaze directed right at you along with a pair of strong arms, your favorite pair of arms to be exact—wrapped protectively around your waist.

Gentle fingers glided softly along your face; almost featherlight to the point where you wouldn’t have even noticed that he was touching you if it weren’t for the callousness of his digits connecting the dots of your scattered freckles and the cool metal on his fourth finger.

You had yet to open your eyes, but you were confident in the idea that your husband was staring at you and you didn’t want to make it known that you were awake just yet.

Honestly, it felt as though you were still in dreamland—everything was just too good to be true. Memories of the most perfect day of your entire life soon came rushing back to your mind and you couldn’t help the small smirk that was now encompassing your face—giving away the fact that you were no longer asleep.

“Good morning Mrs.Tuan.”

Hearing the excitement yet raspiness in his voice along with his last name that was also yours now sent so many emotions to your chest. You were over the moon to say the least. He let out a giggle when you hid your face against his bare chest and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning Mr.Tuan.”

“Ah, I’m never going to get tired of calling you Mrs.Tuan. I still can’t believe you’re my wife. God, it’s like a dream come true—“

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for over five years for you to propose to me—“

Mark let out a guttural groan at the sound of your playful complaint; dropping his head in between the valley of your breasts and earning himself a shove to his shoulder. A blush was now adorning your cheeks; only then as you felt his warm breath against your nipples did you come to the realization that you were naked. It didn’t bother you though, not like it did when you and Mark first became intimate back in the third week of your relationship.

He was your husband now and the two of you made love to each other numerous times in the duration of your five year relationship that you were no longer shy whenever you’d find yourself naked around him. Actually, Mark was very vocal about how insanely beautiful you were—and devastatingly sexy which led you to lose your timidity and gain a newfound confidence. One that you never knew existed and you owed entirely to your husband.

“Hey, we went over this on multiple occasions baby. I wanted to propose to you only months after we started dating—I knew I was in love with you after only the third date. Trust me, it was extremely difficult for me having to introduce you as my girlfriend and not my wife for these last few years. I don’t know why—I mean sure, getting to call you my girlfriend and getting to be called your boyfriend was all that mattered to me. You’re my soulmate y/n. My person—but something about the titles “wife” and “husband” is more permanent. It solidifies a relationship. But I wanted us to be finished with school and settled in to our actual careers before taking things any further. It worked out though didn’t it? Look at us. We’re both redeemingly successful with our positions at the companies we work at and we share a two story house in our mid twenties. Not that it matters, but we can live comfortably as a married couple unlike a lot of people our age. We’re a whole now. You’re stuck with me and my penis for the rest of your life—“

“Oh God. Just when it was getting so romantic, you just had to throw your dick in there. Well, you’re stuck with me and my pussy—“

“I don’t consider myself stuck at all. Your pussy is so magical—fuck, we’ve had sex at least three hundred times, maybe even more than that and every single time, you never failed to blow my mind—and my dick. But shit, last night had to be the best night of my entire life. Yesterday, was the most incredible day in my twenty-seven years of existence. You are the most beautiful person in the entire world and I’m not just saying that because you’re my wife, it’s true. Not only on the outside; which, honestly, you are a sight for sore eyes. I can never take my eyes off of you and I never want to. I’d stare at you in awe of your beauty all day if time permitted me to. But you have the most kindest and generous hearts and you are just the sweetest soul. I can’t wait to remind you every single day for the rest of our lives just how perfect you are to me.”

He brought his thumb up to the brim of your eyelids and wiped away a tear that you didn’t even know fell. God, this man was really the love of your life. You’d never be able to comprehend exactly what you did to deserve being the lucky girl who loved Mark and got to be loved by him, but you would never take your position in his life as his bride for granted.

Before you could continue to let any more tears fall at his endearing words, he was quick to continue his not so innocent speech about the many naughty thoughts taking up all the space his mind.

“I don’t know if it’s because we’re newlyweds or because you never cease to amaze me each and every time we stumble in to bed together but the sex we had just hours ago in my opinion was the best sex we’ve ever had. I know I complimented you almost the entire day yesterday on how gorgeous you looked in that wedding dress and I’m sure my never ending tears that flowed down my cheeks as you walked down the aisle and my wedding vows that were almost twenty minutes long are enough to prove my undying love for you. But God, seeing you in that dress—that dress was made for you. You looked so fucking ethereal and damn, it looked so much better on the floor once I got you alone. You know, my mind is still a little hazy from sleeping—maybe you could remind me just how amazing it was—if I knew you were this abusive, I would have made you work harder for that ring you’re wearing.”

Both his and your laughter filled the room and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes and pinching his cute little butt. Your wedding day was everything you could have ever dreamt of and more. There were countless times in your relationship where you would day dream about what your wedding would be like. It didn’t take you too long to realize that Mark was the person you wanted to settle down and start a family with. Everything within you; your heart, your mind, your body and your soul was his. You were set on Mark Tuan; for life. Since he took his time with asking you to marry him, you developed some insecurities about whether or not he saw himself marrying you. Sure, he may have talked about your future together every now and then, but not once did he ever bring up marriage so you just assumed he had no plans on getting married at all.

It made your engagement all the more special when he did finally get around to proposing to you less than a year ago while the two of you were in vacation in Hawaii. You tried to convince yourself that you would be happy even if Mark were to confess he had no plans on tying the knot. As long as Mark was in your life, you were content with whatever title you held in his. But on that magical night when he got down on one knee and went in to detail about his undying love for you as the two of you watched the sunset go down, you felt wholeheartedly that his proposal was one dreams were made of.

“What are you thinking about?” You looked at him in curiosity and it was in that moment; looking at his blank stare did you realize you were probably mirroring his exact facial expression.

“Nothing. Just that I’m really happy. Really, really happy. You mean everything to me Mark. I don’t know what I would do without you and I dont even want to think about my life before you were in it. It was colorless and dull. Now all I see is so many beautiful colors. Just the mere thought of you along pulls on my heartstrings in such a miraculous way. I love the way you make me feel and I love the effect you’ve had on me. I’m so in love with you and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.”

Your husband gave you his signature gummy smile before smashing his mouth roughly against yours. He licked on your bottom lip and took it in between his sharp teeth, nibbling all but gently while dragging his cold fingertips along your smooth skin.

“You’re my happily ever after y/n. I kind of regret not getting around to marrying you sooner. I just really wanted to give you the ring and the wedding that you’ve always wanted. You deserved the entire universe and more y/n. Truly, there’s so much I want to give you. You are genuinely out of this world; you’re practically a goddess—an otherworldly being and honestly, you deserve so much more than what this world has to offer you. I’m not stupid my love, I’ve picked up on the many wedding magazines you’d scatter throughout the house, I’ve noticed you’ve been watching a couple of episodes from that one Disney weddings show and I overheard you talking to your mom about not knowing how I felt about marriage. I’m sorry that you had to question my feelings for you, but I thought that my constant love confessions and the way I could never stop holding you, kissing you and needing to be around you was enough to prove the fact that you are my home. You own my heart y/n. You always have and you always will forever. The feeling is mutual baby. I don’t care what ends up happening to me. I don’t care where we end up living—if we ever decide to move houses, cities, states or even countries. I don’t care what my job title is, how much money I’ll end up making or what anyone other than you has to think or say about me. Life—life can be rough and there are days that I just want to scream, cry and run away. But then I look at you and I see my purpose—I look at you and see the reason for my existence. You’re the reason why I breathe. You’re the reason why my heartbeat increases—the reason why I wake up with the biggest grin on my face. You are my reason to be happy and I could never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me in the last five years. Now, I can’t wait to continue to relish in our love for many more decades to come.”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 6: Lies and Pressure

Shoot.

Because it wasn’t as if though he had a famous girlfriend he had been cheating on you, his ex-fiancée, with for who knows how long. And though the amnesia had seemed to make him more mellow - probably because he recognized nobody else but you and therefore clung to that sense of familiarity - you would still not consider him a friend. Also, technically, he was still an idol and probably had an endless sea of fans that adored him in every and any way possible.

So, he was neither eligible nor a friend, in addition to being an idol, and here you were, wallowing in your feelings. Great.

Before you allowed yourself to sleep, you decided to check with Sejin. The man was pacing back and forth in front of the door, and opened his mouth to speak when he spotted you. Immediately, you put a finger across your lips, silencing him.

“He’s finally asleep,” you whispered as you poked your torso through the opening between the door and the frame. “I’ll stay here until morning, but then I need to head to school. I think it’ll be good if someone can be here by then to guard him against nosy journalists or stop him from being all too problematic.”

“I can be here by six-thirty,” said Sejin.

“That will be perfect,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said instantly. “I can’t even imagine how the situation would have turned out without you here. The kid is lucky to have someone like you.”

You blushed at the compliment. “I’m just doing what any good friend would do.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you admitted hesitantly.

“Are you dating?”

“No!” you blurted, startled by the question. You slipped out of the room and shut the door as gently as you could after you, as not to wake Jungkook. “We’re just… family friends.” This was sounding a bit repetitive even to you now.

Kim Sejin regarded you closely for a beat, but then relaxed. “Good. He already has one girlfriend to take care of. I would have hated to see him grow up into a type of guy to have several women on the side.”

You were tempted to laugh, but managed to rein yourself in. “Agreed.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You fell asleep almost before you had returned to the vacant hospital bed. Now, your plan had been to wake up before Jungkook and sneak out quietly as not to disturb him. But what you had forgotten from your earliest days of acquaintanceship - sleepovers, yes, there had been numerous of them during your childhood - was his eerie ability to wake up before anyone else. By the time your alarm went off, he was already awake, watching you in the dark.

You yelped.

“Scared you.”

You only barely discerned his smile through the dark. “Stupid,” you grunted as you tried silencing the harsh ringing. “I could have attacked you and injured you even more. Colored your eye to match the splint.”

“Didn’t take you for the fashion-conscious type.”

“You didn’t react to me threatening to throw a punch at you.”

“I know you’re violent,” he replied. “Besides, I know Taekwondo. I would like to see you try.”

His voice was smooth, like a soothing summer eve’s breeze. Or rather, as if he just had drunk from the glass of water standing on the bedside table between the beds. You sounded like a troll, and probably smelled like one, too.

“I know you do,” you grumbled as you sat up and fumbled for the glass. “Now, what did you just say about my fashion sense?”

“You never struck me as someone who cared about his or her appearance, that’s all.”

You downed the glass of water. “‘His or her’? Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Still tired?”

“Not a morning person,” you answered as you rubbed your eyes. “Why are you so talkative? Didn’t you drink last… er, about six or so hours ago? Shouldn’t you be the sour, surly one?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you drink so much you-- oh.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you - amnesia is contagious”

“Clever,” you said with a chuckle. “But no, it’s not. I just have a case of bad genes.”

Your body ached as you rose and you stretched. You hadn’t slept in the most optimal position, nor any way near the amount you needed, and your body and mind made sure to remind you of that.

“You were going to try and sneak out without waking me, weren’t you?”

“Yup,” you replied.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?”

You threw up your hands defensively. “I merely thought you needed to sleep some more.”

“As do you.”

You turned on the lights and immediately found the room flushed with pallid light. You made a face and replied, “I don’t really have the freedom to do so. I have school and then errands to run because of you.”

You hurriedly unplugged your phone and checked the fourteen notifications you had received, thirteen of which were concerned texts from your parents’ driver. The last one was a message from Se-Eun, who wondered if you would pick her up as you usually did Monday mornings. You shrugged on your jacket and purse while replying to both of them. You didn’t think you could make it to Se-Eun’s, however.

“Try to rest, Jungkook,” you said absentmindedly while typing. “Be polite to the doctors and nurses. And eat something while you’re at it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Just then, a growl erupted from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t sit here, being fed by some stranger who treats me like I’m an infant,” he said sternly, his large brown eyes defiant.

“Just like you won’t wear the hospital gown or follow any other kind of normal hospital regulations?”

“Just like that.”

“You don’t remember you’re a world-famous idol, but you sure do behave like a diva.” You snorted. “Have fun starving until I get back then. I don’t have time to force-feed you right now, but I will later.”

Jungkook snorted, too. You headed toward the door after refilling the glass when he stopped you.

“(Y/N), before you leave…”

You spun around. “Make it qui--”

You felt your chest tighten. He was holding up your engagement ring.

Jungkook had picked it up and kept it after you left him.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t know what type of guy I was yesterday, but I don’t think I’d just walk around with gold and diamonds.”

“Maybe a new trend in the K-pop industry?” you managed stiffly.

“It’s too small for me,” he said as he slipped the ring onto his little finger. It stopped halfway down the digit.

You didn’t know what to say. This was your chance to tell him the truth: the two of you had been engaged ever since you were eighteen. But then, he had cheated on you and you had broken the arrangement. You could change all of that now. To be frank, you didn’t hate the idea as much any longer. You were the only person he trusted and, as you had acknowledged a few hours ago, you were starting to actually like him, no matter how scary that felt. And you would fulfill your promise to him - you would help him get through the amnesia.

But you couldn’t get the image of him and Park Yi-Jae out of your head. So even though it hurt more than anything else in the world, more than when you had broken your collarbone falling down a hill, more than all of Hye-Bin’s words and “pranks” combined, you decided to lie.

“There was a girl visiting you earlier,” you began as you felt your hand clutch harder around your phone. “Do you remember her? Slim and pretty, with short, curly brown hair.”

He frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she was just as weird as the guys.”

“You and she were--are in a relationship,” you went on while you inwardly prayed that you sounded convincing. “A romantic relationship. She is your girlfriend, Jungkook.”

“My… girlfriend?” The furrow between his brows deepened. “I don’t remember anything about a girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“Park Yi-Jae,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That’s the thing with amnesia,” you said with a voice you hoped sounded light and playful, at least in his ears. “You loved each other very much.”

“So you’ve seen us together?”

You forced yourself not to grit your teeth in anger. “Yes, I have. Just yesterday. You looked very happy together.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He simply held your gaze, his eyes trusting yet suspicious.

“If you say so,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I better leave now,” you said as you broke away. “I’ll be back sometime late afternoon with clothes and food. Call your parents if you want to be a bit helpful meanwhile.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Yeah.”

You left before he could add anything to prolong the conversation. You didn’t want to be there any longer. Still, though it pained you, you were proud of yourself. You had chosen the right option.

Yeah, sure you had.

Down by the front desk, you met Kim Sejin while he was purchasing some coffee from an old beverage machine. You doubted he had gotten much sleep, judging by the still present bags underneath his eyes, and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“He’s awake, hungry and probably a bit tense,” you greeted him with. “He’s not exactly convinced about the whole thing, but he has agreed to let me try and help him.”

“I’m afraid I have worse news,” he said grimly. “I spoke with a specialist just now, and he told me there’s a big chance that Jungkook won’t ever regain all of his memories.”

“That's not the worst thing in the world,” you replied, furrowing your brows. “He could have died.”

“Yes but with the situation being the way it is now, I don’t think Jungkook will ever be able to perform again, at least not with the rest of the kids. The director is already considering kicking him out of the group.”

“Why?” you exclaimed. “It’s not like he’s lost a leg or his mind or something - he can still dance or sing or whatever else you need him to do!”

You ignored the sharp look a nurse sent you as she hurried past. You were fuming. Here they were, this large company that probably made a fortune out of these seven guys - out of Jungkook. And they were just dropping him as soon as something - an accident - occurred?

“They just launched their biggest tour yet,” Sejin explained in a calm voice, though he also seemed disappointed. “The company poured a lot of money and planning into this. The boys are supposed to perform on a lot of shows and be on programs as well. But how are we - or anyone at all -  supposed to work with a kid who refuses to cooperate with people he doesn’t know? Who can’t seem to recall a single song or performance with his members? And don’t make it anything personal - the director is desperate not to lose him.”

“But what are you going to do without him?” you wondered. From what you had heard from Se-Eun, Jungkook was one of the most significantly popular members of the group, which probably meant his mere presence generated quite the revenue. And judging by yesterday’s concert, he had the most lines in their songs overall.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, probably considering the same things as you. “They might make it, they might not. Chances are, however, that without Jeon Jungkook, the Bangtan Boys will disintegrate.”

You placed your hand against your forehead and exhaled. You weren’t sure exactly what the idol life consisted of, but you had caught bits and pieces from Se-Eun whenever she rambled with her friends about the group. It wasn’t what you would have chosen to spend your youth doing. It just seemed too risky.

And now, all of Jungkook and his hyungs’ accumulated effort from years of work, promotion and practice could crumble.

His childhood dream could crumble.

“I’ve grown too fond of them to let it end just like this, though.”

You shook your head to clear it from your brief reverie. “What can you do?” you asked, hearing a budding idea in his tone.

“I think I can convince the director to cancel most of the concerts,” said Sejin as he scratched his stubble. “Though it might be a little tricky, it won’t be impossible or detrimental to the company since the money is best in Japan, which is where the tour ends. If the kid could somehow perform by then, I might still have a job tomorrow.”

“But as you said, he can’t and won’t cooperate with anyone,” you pointed out. “Not even with medical personnel.”

Sejin drank from his coffee cup, then grimaced. It had probably gotten cold from all your talking. “The doctor told me there is an unorthodox way of reintroducing memories to a person with any kind of memory loss. Unorthodox because it isn’t scientifically proven and because, more often than not, it fails and proves fruitless.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You really are a great friend,” he said, giving you an odd look of sympathy. “All of this relies on your ability to remind him of his life before the accident. Since you’re the only one he trusts, he might be more receptive to you showing and telling him about the other boys, their music and their performances. All and anything that might cause it to fall in place inside his head.”

“This sounds like a movie trope or something,” you said skeptically.

“As I said, it’s unorthodox. But it’s all we really have. There are no known cures or proper treatments for amnesia.”

“Very well then.” You managed a smile even though you felt the heavy mantle of responsibility weighing your shoulders down. “I’ll try. I have at least until the end of the year on me, right?”

Sejin’s expression fell and he groaned. “Damn it, I forgot you don’t know their schedule like the back of your hand.”

“What is it?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

Tension and trepidation already tightened your throat, but your heart was beating steadily. When you had offered to help Jungkook that night, you had known it would be tough. And as the conversation with Kim Sejin had continued, you had had a feeling that whatever he was going to say would be the opposite of good. Still, you hadn’t lost faith in Jungkook’s recovery. Even now, looking at his manager, you knew it would be bad since his face said as much.

But you had never thought it would be this bad.

“The beginning of the end of their tour starts May 30th. That means you only have a little more than three months to restore him, (Y/N).”

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Summary: Technoblade spends some time in Pandora’s Box. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

(Read on AO3)

He skimmed his hand along the obsidian, the surface smooth beneath his touch. Some parts of it were seemingly warmer than others, but Technoblade didn't know if that was because of the lava running somewhere deep within the walls or just his tired mind playing tricks on him. He tapped the volcanic glass once, an action that fills the cell with a light ringing sound. But the layers ran too deep for Techno to tell where hollowness hides beneath.

Which was a shame, because knowing the structure's weaknesses would already go a long way in him figuring out his escape plan.

With no tools and the mining fatigue weighing heavy on his bones, getting through obsidian might be a fool's errand. But it was a better way to spent his time than waiting for a rescue party that would most likely never come. Or better yet, stay put and sit pretty like Dream seemed to want him to.

Technoblade couldn't see any other reason for him still being here.

The sky tore open, lightning forming a spiderweb of fractures evaporating as quickly as they had taken shape. Rain beat down on them relentlessly and made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. Another crack – a flash of blinding light – and it carried the glint of a sword at Phil's throat, the steady hand of Dream holding onto the base of Phil's neck and keeping him in place.

Technoblade stilled in an instant.

The thunder rumbled ominously as Dream's impassive mask grinned ever wider.

The trade-off had gone quick and easy, an unspoken agreement that Techno would sign again in a heartbeat. He nodded curtly at Dream, who pressed the blade firmer against skin to make his point. Techno dropped his own weapon, holding up his arms to show goodwill. Phil's eyes widened as he realized what was happening, helpless to stop it.

"Wait-" But Dream curled his fingers tighter around Phil's neck, the sword inches away from slicing a jugular and Techno shook his head, internally begging for the other man to stay quiet.

He didn't know if he could do this if Phil asked him not to with that pained look in his eyes.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he was locked in Pandora's box, but Techno had a rough estimation. Sam brought him food and by counting the minutes between deliveries he had narrowed it down to two meals a day. Almost twenty meals had come and gone since his arrival.

During this time Dream had not come to see him once, was the thing.

It made a tight coil of worry pull in Techno's gut. One he stubbornly pushed down and shoved into a corner of his mind where he put all emotions he deemed worthy to be re-examined at a more opportune time, preferably over a cup of tea and some of Phil's freshly baked bread. There were only so many reasons he could think of for Dream to wait this long to state his demands – because that's what they had to be. Demands. Dream didn't do anything in half measures, always had some ace up his sleeve or a grand scheme to connect by pulling little threads of manipulation.

Dream had to gain something from putting him in prison.

Techno sat down on the small bunk that served as the room's only furniture, both bed and table in its function. The thin blanket that hardly did anything for him was balled up and shoved to the side. He started running down the list out loud so Chat could follow along. For all their strange tricks that eluded him, they still couldn't read his thoughts. Thankfully.

"Reason one: Dream thinks leaving me in here long enough will make it easier for him to get what he wants from me later."

Psychological warfare was the oldest trick in the book, but no method quite as effective as solitary confinement to break a person. Or, well, that would be the case for most others. Between the voices and a natural tendency towards extreme introversion Technoblade probably was the worst target for this approach. If the accommodations weren't so shit, he might have even enjoyed his stay.

Dream would most likely know this. Cross it off the list.

"Reason two: he needs to keep me secured for a future ploy."

A possibility, but the uncertainty tugged at Technoblade all the same. If Dream was planning to use him as a bargaining chip – or worse, a flunkey – down the line, then Techno would have had the honor of his presence by now, even if only for Dream to gloat. That man was utterly lost in his own superiority complex on the best of days, there was no chance he would pass on an opportunity to rub Techno's face in his future plans. Leave him stewing in misery with knowledge of what was to come.

A moment's hesitation, but he crossed it off the list.

"Reason three: he's forgotten I'm in here."

His joke made Chat agitated and he winced at the stab of a headache that brought forth as their yelling got louder, more jumbled. "Yeah, that would be pretty cringe of him," he agreed with their repeated outcries.

"Well, that only leaves the last option I can consider..." He trailed off, staring at the slightly shimmering surface of the obsidian. Techno could see his own reflection in the translucent facets. The crown on his head stood out starkly in the cell's dim light.

In chess, the best plays were always those that went for the strongest pieces first. It might be tempting to take a rook or two to start with, but you can't feel safe until that queen is removed from the board. Then it breaks open for you to do whatever you want with, essentially.

"He's leaving me here to rot."

Phil had stared at him, the shadows cutting across his expression. Techno couldn't look him in the face, keeping his focus on Dream instead. Not breaking eye contact even as his hands were tied behind his back. The useless gesture was only meant to humiliate him, Dream knew he wouldn't budge an inch with Phil's last life still in danger.

They had marched him straight to the prison, not taking any risks and all the while Technoblade had already been glancing around, committing any important leverages to memory. With every security measure they passed, his heart sank deeper in his chest.

Forty meals had come and gone.

Technoblade was chipping away at the wall, not for any real reason except it kept him busy. He wasn't stupid enough to believe it would actually amount to anything. Not when the walls were made of obsidian, not when the mining fatigue strained his movements and made his muscles contract under the pressure of forcing them into cooperation. There was less strength to his punches, flexing his fingers against invisible weights suspended from them by strings.

And even if he managed by some miracle to mine away a block, Sam would know and come replace it instantly.

"Chat," he addressed the voices. "You're familiar with the story of Sisyphus, right?" A mess of responses, mostly the repeating of their favorite letter which Techno chose to take as agreement. "Yeah, sure, I've read it to you before."

His claws broke through another inch of the solid stone. Obsidian wasn't a mineral, the composition wasn't right for it. But it splintered in brittle ways and cut open Techno's palm, making the blood run slick through his fingers. Chat went into a frenzy.

"This is what he must have felt like with his boulder," Techno concluded.

They stripped him of his tools, his weapons, his communicator. Technoblade was vaguely grateful they let him keep his clothes at least, though he suspected it was merely because Sam hadn't been prepared for the prison to already be put to use.

The creeper-hybrid looked at him in vague apprehension and Techno shrugged back.

Placing him in the highest security cell could have been a compliment if Techno didn't think it to be completely overkill and awfully dramatic on Dream's part. The rows of doors they passed on the way to the bowels of the box were concerning, enough to contain at least half the residents of the server.

Dream had officially lost his marbles.

High security turned out to be a euphemism for 'violation of human rights'. The cell was barely three by three blocks, with nothing but the bed tucked against one wall and a heavy-set door that didn't even have a handle on the inside. At floor height, there was a thin slot just wide enough for the occasional bowl of stew or a baked potato to slide through. The warden didn't have to interact with his prisoners.

"Cozy," Techno remarked dully before the door was shut behind him. It hadn't been opened since.

He had lost count, but he had to be nearing his eightieth meal now.

More and more often Technoblade found himself slumbering through the opening of the latch, only to wake up to a stale steak that had been left on his floor hours ago. It wasn't real sleep, merely a state of exhaustion both mental and physical that left him wandering the borders of consciousness, drifting somewhere between awareness and disconnect. Which he knew was probably not the best sign.

The lack of physical activity was wearing his muscles down, making even the simple act of pacing circles in the room send aches through his legs. For the first time in longer than he cared to recall Techno returned to the exercise routine they had done every morning in the Antarctic Empire – or at least the parts of it he could match in the limited space of his cell. It wasn't enough though and he felt himself grow weaker every day. There was no sunlight, no fresh air, and the food left something to be desired.

His mind too wandered more and more, having trouble staying on task. The voices gradually grew more agitated, bored by the same scenery each day, the lack of excitement. A permanent headache had taken residence and didn't show any sign of intending to leave soon, making its presence known through a constant throbbing and the occasional stab of pain when he thought too hard. Closing his eyes, Technoblade started to count out loud. Give them and himself something to concentrate on. Chat came apart into a tangle of numbers, noises, buzzing. He winced.

"Okay, new plan, new plan-" He curled up on the bunk, drawing his knees up to his chest. The blanket was on the floor. "Story time, what would you like to hear?"

More chaos, but one answer stood out among the others. Its irony was not lost on Techno.

"Thus, the first mortal woman was born and she descended down to earth." He hushed them and was grateful when chat fell away into quieter murmurs. "Her name was Pandora."

The door opened.

The sound made Technoblade flinch, the creak feeling so horribly foreign in the stillness of his cell that he had come to know like the back of his hand. He stared and didn't know what to think when he saw Phil outlined in the opening.

"Wha-"

His friend was at his side in seconds, one hand holding his wrist and it was nearly painful. An absence of touch suddenly set ablaze. Techno did his best not to shy away from the contact.

"We need to get out of here," Phil said urgently, eyes wide and panicked and the words died on Techno's tongue. "There isn't much time."

Techno could only nod, throat raw and hurting as Phil pulled him to his feet. He nearly fell over.

The hallways seemed different, longer and winding in strange angles. Door upon door upon door and Phil didn't say anything, just tugged Techno along. His head was filled with cotton. Why wasn't there any lava? Where was the redstone?

When they came outside, the sun was blinding him.

"Wait, Phil." Techno stopped moving, dug his heels into the ground and Phil stopped too. He turned around, skin pale and expression worried and it killed him. It killed Techno. "What's happening?"

"I came for you," Phil answered simply. "Of course I did, mate."

Techno felt like he was breaking.

He woke up in his cell.

"At the bottom of the box, only Hope remained there in an unbreakable home."

Technoblade missed his home.

He missed his farm and his pets and the feeling of the breeze running through his hair. He missed the winding of the river across the land, small sounds of trickling and running along the shallows with Wilbur and Tommy in tow. He missed Phil putting logs of wood in the fireplace.

He was tired.

The voices wouldn't stop screaming. Pressing his hands into his closed eyes, relieved when the pressure took some of the edge off, Technoblade grunted. "What has you guys excited now, hm?"

He didn't really care. The room was small and endless and he couldn't breathe within these walls, couldn't think. He just wanted them to shut up so he could go to sleep again.

But Chat didn't mind his protests, a litany of noise and somewhere in there, Technoblade could have sworn he heard Phil's name. He blinked back into awareness, struggling to get his stagnant mind into motion again. Too exhausted to move.

The door opened.

Technoblade couldn't even bear to tear his eyes away from the ceiling.

Somebody shook his shoulder and said his name and it hurt, it all hurt too much to be real. When warm arms wrapped around his body Techno wanted to sob but couldn't do that either.

"Hey, hey-" Phil was brushing his tangled hair from his face, fingers skirting along Techno's cheeks. He leaned into that touch subconsciously, needing it like a lifeline. There was time to be self-conscious about such vulnerability later. "It's okay, I'm here."

The noise that wanted to come out of him was a low whine, but Techno cleared his throat instead. "Took you long enough."

Phil let out a short laugh, not quite sincere yet but still music to his ears. "Yeah, you can complain about it to me later, once we get home."

Home?

Techno nodded, the minimal motion already enough to make him dizzy. But that didn't matter with Phil steadying him, holding onto him, helping him.

Coming back for him.

"Please," he said. "Home would be great."

[hlizr50]

Revelations

Chapter 1: This is Wrong

Hawke eavesdrops on the Duke's lessons with Poppy and realizes what is happening within the walls of castle Teerman

Read on AO3

Casteel… Hawke… stared at the door as it clicked closed, the Maiden having entered the Duke’s office.

“Penellaphe, I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” Duke Teerman always sounded so haughty and condescending.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I –“

The Duke cut her off, “Do you even know what you have done that has disappointed me?”

Was this why she and Tawny had been so apprehensive of the Duke’s summons? A scolding? A dressing down? It couldn’t have been just that, considering how Penellaphe had frozen before the door.

He took up a position not too close to seem suspicious to the two men standing guard. No matter. He was Atlantian, and even though he leaned against the wall a few feet from the door he could hear every word spoken in that office. He didn’t know what he should expect.

“I don’t. But I’m sure whatever it is, I’m at fault. You are never disappointed in me without cause.” Her words were measured. Careful. And careful wasn’t really her style.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be disappointed for no reason at all. But this time I find myself blindsided by what I have been told.”

Hawke had been her guard for barely a day, but he found it hard to believe that Penellaphe would have committed a crime so egregious to blindside the Duke. Although, if her escapade to the Red Pearl was any indication maybe she had.

“Remove your veil, Penellaphe. You do not want to test my patience.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we… we are not alone, and the Gods forbad me from showing my face.”

“The Gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings.”

They were not alone? His amber eyes narrowed slightly. Who else was there? Had he not experienced the meeting yesterday he would have also wondered why she was apparently hesitant to remove the veil. But he knew the Duke likely wanted to take the opportunity to comment on her scars.

“Lift your eyes.”

A pause.

“You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”  Hawke grimaced. His insides roiled at the thought of the Duke looking at her with those deep, empty eyes.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

The Duke made a cluck with his tongue. “Such a shame. What do you think Bran?”

It was Lord Brandole Mazeen, then. Gods above, what was he doing in there? His lust and depravity were well-known throughout Castle Teerman. The maids were often warned not to earn his attention, good or bad.

“As you said, such a shame.” The Lord answered.

“The other scars are easy to hide, but this? There will come a time where there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”

How many years had Penellaphe been here? How many times had the Teermans and their lackeys taken an opportunity to cut her with those words?

“Do you know what that new guard of hers said? He said she was beautiful. Half of her is truly stunning... You look so much like your mother.”

Hawke had said that. He meant it.

“You knew her?” Penellaphe gasped.

“I did. She was… special. You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise. Wouldn’t have spoken the truth. I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could have been far worse.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed. It was difficult to for him to keep his expression neutral as the Duke continued to berate her. So he kept his eyes down, studying the stone floor of the hallway. It had likely once been rough and uneven, but the years of scuffing boots had smoothed the cobbles to satin.

“You do have such pretty eyes… And a well-formed mouth. Most will find your body pleasing… For some men, those things will be enough.”

He didn’t like the way the Duke paused between his backhanded compliments. Was he looking at her? Touching her?

“Priestess Annalia came to see me this morning,” Duke Teerman paused, as if waiting for a response. “Do you not have anything to add?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Priestess Annalia would have to say. I saw her last a week ago in the second floor parlor and all seemed fine.” Penellaphe sounded confused.

“I’m sure it did, since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly. I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the priestesses.”

So… this was the crime? She hadn’t completed any of her needlework? Penellaphe had sounded confused, and Hawke had to admit that he was, as well. With all honesty and due respect (which was none, if he was being honest), who the fuck cared?

“My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite. I must have been daydreaming.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation I would have easily overlooked your poor conduct. But I’ve learned that you were just in the atrium.”

“Yes, I was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t go often, but –“ she was interrupted again.

“Spending time in the atrium is not the issue and you’re smart enough to know that. Don’t play coy with me. You were speaking with two of the ladies in wait. You know that is not allowed.”

She had barely spoken two sentences to them! Who had run so quickly to report her to the Duke for that? The ladies had been too busy trying to get Hawke’s attention. He grinned at that, recalling the spilled rhinestones and fainting young women. But Penellaphe, who was not to have any interaction with, well, anyone… she had been in the atrium before anyone was there. The ladies had chosen to sit at the same table. Was she just supposed to just stand up and leave?

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“Such a demure Maiden.” Lord Mazeen’s words dripped like acid against Hawke’s skin. He did not have to know the Lord well to know that he would get an inordinate amount of pleasure in killing him. He felt ill knowing that Penellaphe was alone in that room, with those two beasts.

“I’m sorry. I should have left when they entered, but I didn’t.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone apologize so much in his life. What had happened to the woman from the Red Pearl? That Penellaphe was so full of heart and fire. The girl on the other side of that door was…

Defeated.

“And why not?” The Duke prodded.

“I was… curious. They were talking about the upcoming Rite.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that. You were always an active child with a curious mind that flicked from one thing to the next: something I’ve warned the Duchess you wouldn’t grow out of easily. Priestess Annalia has also informed me that she fears your relationship with your lady’s maid has become far too familiar.”

Good Gods, how many imaginary transgressions could there be? How was she not supposed to be familiar with someone who had literally been tasked to be at her side at all times?

“Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else then I apologize.”

Hawke knew that had struck a nerve. Penellaphe and Tawny were close, and the Maiden was allowed so little in the way of… of anything that made life bearable.

“I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them. Not even those who are to become members of the court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were chosen by the Gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

He inwardly scoffed.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. You were chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been chosen by the Gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered. That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should have been the only lesson you ever needed,” Duke Teerman had a talent for cutting words, Hawke noted. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Annalia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, aaaaand the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement? You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.”

The Duke chuckled then. “The meeting would have ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan-“

“Rylan! His name is Rylan, not Ryan!”

There she was, that spirited woman that had so intrigued him.

“THERE it is! Not so demure now!” Lord Mazeen sounded… almost gleeful.

“You mean, his name was Rylan. And does it really matter? He was just a royal guard. He would have been honored that I even thought of him. Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently I’ve been too easy on you. Unfortunately, that means you require another lesson. Hopefully it will be your last, but somehow I doubt it.”

“Yes. Hopefully.”

Hawke sighed inwardly in relief. How long had been here listening to the Duke ramble on about imaginary transgressions and basic human interactions painted as crimes. They should be finished soon.

“I believe four lashes should suffice.”

He froze.

Lashes.

Hawke could barely breathe. This was no mere dressing down, no raised-voice scolding with some hurtful words.

“Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.” Gods, Penellaphe’s fire roared to life at the worst possible moment.

“How does seven sound? I see that number agrees with you. What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.”

This was no “lesson”.

“You know where to go,” the Duke directed.

This was abuse.

“You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Hawke strained to hear. It was far too quiet. The Duke was waiting for something. Could he hear the soft rustle of fabric? His restraint was thinning by the second.

This was torture.

“This is for your own good. This is a necessary lesson, Penellaphe, to ensure that you take your preparations seriously and are committed to them, so you do not dishonor the Gods.”

This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Brace yourself, Penellaphe.”

He heard the faint whistle… then a crack… it had to be a cane that the Duke was using on her.

A cane. Sweet merciless, sleeping Gods.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Two. Was this the fitting punishment for not touching her embroidery set? For speaking a word to a lady in wait who needed to be put in her place?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Three. Was this the fitting punishment for daring to have a friend? For not cowering when the Duke had hoped to humiliate her the day before?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Four. His eyes were wide, but when he looked to the guards at the door they avoided his questioning glare, acting blissfully unaware.

This… this travesty…

It was as if…

As if this happened all the time.

Swoosh. CRACK

Five. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was back there… in Carsadonia. In his cage. Made to bleed. Made to feed. Forced to take and be taken.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Six. The Blood Queen took pleasure from his pain. For decades. He couldn’t understand how any living being could be so monstrous.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Seven.

He let out an unsteady breath. It was over.

Penellaphe hadn’t made a sound.

How?

“I truly hope, Penellaphe, that this lesson… sinks in.”

His rage was white hot behind his eyes. He had to keep them closed. The guards would have been… disturbed… if they saw how they glowed with his ire.

Duke Teerman had signed his death warrant. And it was not going to be quick and painless.

Breathe. You have to breathe. You have to get ahold of yourself. This is not the time and place.

Hawke took a few measured breaths, and his heart began to slow. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d just witnessed.

The door clicked and his head whipped up, amber gaze falling on the veiled woman who gingerly pulled the door closed behind her. She looked up and saw him, and Hawke could see her entire body tense. He just stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze behind the veil. He could tell that she avoided it. Penellaphe then straightened slowly and did her best to walk toward him, past him, as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

Her breathing was labored and he could tell that every step she took caused her pain. He followed her down the hall, cursing to himself when the effort became too much for her and she started whimpering softly with each pace. They made it to the narrow spiral staircase that would lead them down to the main floor. He opened the door for her to enter, and she dared not look at him as she passed.

She was already attempting the first step, grunting with effort to lower her body down through clenched teeth, when he closed the door behind him.

“Penellaphe,” his voice was low. Cold. Raw.

She continued to work on the next step, acting oblivious to his call.

“Penellaphe.”

She stopped.

“How long?”

“What?” she tried to sound surprised, but he could only hear the pain lacing the word.

“How long. How long has the Duke been doing this to you?”

Silence. It hung heavy over him. He felt like he was being smothered, waiting for an answer that he knew would likely ruin him. He could hear her pain-laden breaths sawing in and out. It had taken such effort for her to go down two steps. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep, calming breath.

“Since Ian returned to the Capitol.”

Gods, why weren’t they somewhere with something he could break? Blood red rage roared in his blood. Hawke could feel himself trembling.

“That’s… that’s been years,” he whispered.

“It has.”

And then she began struggling down the steps again. As if that were the end of the conversation.

It wasn’t. Not even fucking close.

He practically leapt the three steps down to stand in front of her. “Is that all you have to say? Poppy this is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that.”

“Am I not? Do your friends know about this? How have your friends helped you?” Hawke spat, clenching his quaking fists at his side. “From what I can tell, I’m the only person who seems to give a flying fuck about what just happened. Tell me how that doesn’t qualify me as your friend.”

“There’s nothing that can be done to help,” she whispered and turned her head to the side, suddenly finding the stone wall quite interesting. He uttered a curse and reached for the chains that held the veil on top of her head.

“Take this Gods-damned thing off,” he growled as he pulled it away. He couldn’t stand trying to speak with her without seeing into her eyes, seeing her face. She was a person. Her emotions and expressions mattered. But she barely even flinched, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere near his boots. Her face was flushed and her eyes lined silver.

“Look at me.” When she made no move he reached her hand to her. He lightly traced his fingers over her left cheek down to her jaw, pulling gently so her face was lifted to him. “Please, Penellaphe. Look at me.” Her emerald gaze met his, shining with pain and sorrow and shame.

“I… I used to try. I used to do everything I thought I could to fix whatever it is that I’d done that had disappointed him,” she blinked, allowing a couple stray tears fall. “But it was never enough. No matter what I did, no matter how demure I was, no matter the eggshells I walked on and the dedication I tried to show… I realized eventually that my dedication was never the point. It was never about what I did or didn’t do. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. He would find anything-“

“Like not doing your fucking cross-stitch?”

She sucked in a breath and pulled away from his fingers. “How much did you hear?” the fire-haired beauty clasped her hands in front of her heart. He held onto her gaze and her eyes roared at him with hurt.

“Everything.”

She shuddered and bowed her head. Her hands trembled as she brought them up to cover her face. Hawke could feel humiliation rolling from her in waves and saw the tension in her shoulders. She was weeping before him.

“He will find anything that could possibly be an offense. He’s punished me for walking too quickly and breathing too loudly. And I have come to realize that… he only does it because he wants to hurt and humiliate me. He knows that his words make me flinch and his touch make me want to peel the skin from my body. And he relishes that. And I hate that he has that kind of power over me.”

Hawke’s ire sharpened into something cooler, more calculating and thoughtful. He had come to Masadonia to kidnap and ransom the Maiden, a symbol to all of Solis. He’d come to send a message using their precious prize, a privileged brat that was no better than those soulless creatures who had raised her.

He took a measured breath and ran a hand over his face in realization.

She was... innocent. She was a pawn, a possession. She was a victim, kept in a cage just as he had been, albeit far more gilded. And even though there was an illusion of life and choice, she was guilted, berated, and beaten into submission.

And Gods, she was still brave and vivacious enough to risk the Duke’s ire. Reckless enough to step into a brothel and send all of Hawke’s expectations straight to hell.

There is nothing that can be done to help.

There was. He could take her away from this. He had planned to do that, in a way, but now? How could he deliver her back to the Ascended knowing that this is what her life would be? And how could he convince her of the truth? She was smart, and Hawke knew that she didn’t agree with everything the Ascended ordained. Her reactions at the council meeting had been proof of that.

He reached out to her again, taking her hands in his and pulling them away from her tear-streaked cheeks. He stroked his thumbs over her knuckles and spoke her name to draw her gaze.

“This is wrong. You hold no shame in this. He has done this to you, and that is evil and terrible and monstrous. Tell me you realize that, Penellaphe,” he urged. She nodded softly. He gave an encouraging quirk of his lips and continued. “He does these things to make you feel weak and powerless, and you are neither of those things. He knows that you are curious and full of life, and he is afraid that you will be able to see past his façade and into his own weakness if he cannot keep you squashed under his heel.”

Hawke let go of her hands and gingerly held her face between them, using his thumbs to wipe away any remaining dampness that fell there. He looked down for a moment, and then brought his eyes back up, a burning golden stare.

“I need you to make me a promise, Penellaphe. Can you do that?”

“A promise?” she whispered.

“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll trust your instincts. Question everything. You are fierce and intelligent, so think about what they do and what they say. Think about it… you are the most important person in the entire kingdom. They should be worshipping at your feet, not taking a cane to your back,” he was afraid he’d said too much; pushed too hard. Would she be suspicious? Would she balk at his request? Her gaze was green as springtime, and her eyes stared into his, trying to process what he was saying.

“Can you promise me that?”

The knight endured her gaze for a few tense moments, her face still in his palms. She closed her eyes after a sigh and placed her hands over his, dipping her chin.

“I promise, Hawke.”

Thank the Gods.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and the Maiden inhaled sharply. Chuckling, he let her go and reached down to the discarded veil.

“I will make you a promise, as well,” he extended his hand with the soft fabric. She moved to grab it and he clenched her hand with both of his. Startled, she looked to him again.

“He will never hurt you again.”

She smiled wistfully then, and he could read in her expression that, as much as she wanted that to be true, she didn’t believe that anyone had that power. Then she pulled the veil from his hand and attempted the next step in front of her.

It would take forever to make it down the stairs.

“I have an idea,” Hawke smirked. “I think it will help. But you have to trust me.”

“I… I don’t trust you. Not when you have that look in your eye,” she laughed lightly.

“Here, if I squat down can you climb on my back?” he turned around on the step in front of her. He knew he was still much taller than she was, even on a step below. “It may be painful to get there, but if you can wrap your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my waist we could make it down much more quickly. And hopefully without too much strain on your back.”

Hawke felt a hand on her shoulder, but she hesitated. “That would be… incredibly inappropriate. What if someone sees?”

“You’re hurt. If someone opens one of the doors we’ll hear it and have enough time for me to set you down and throw that Gods-forsaken sheet over your head,” he scoffed over her shoulder. “Now wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll grab your legs when I stand up.”

He was surprised when she didn’t argue and her forearms crossed in front of him.

“Ready?” He asked, knowing the first time he lifted her up would probably cause her some pain.

“Yes.” Her grip tightened around him. She gasped into his shoulder as he stood straight, putting his hands under her thighs. He waited a moment, listening for her breath to even out as she adjusted to the soreness.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Hawke gave her legs a light squeeze. She nodded against his shoulder, and he started gingerly making his way down the stairs. He thanked the Gods that he was Atlantian, strong and light on his feet. He knew he could practically glide down without causing her any additional discomfort.

They reached the bottom landing and he gently set her down, heart constricting when he saw her wince as she slowly lowered her arms to her sides.

“Here,” he grabbed the veil from her hand and placed it over her head. He studied the tiny chains that were supposed to hold it in place, and he had to admit that he wasn’t sure what to do with those. A giggle escaped from behind the veil.

“Give me that,” she grabbed the chains. “It’s not far to my room. We should be able to make it there without it falling off.”

Hawke grinned and pulled open the door. “After you, Milady.”

They walked down the corridor slowly and silently. He would look down at her from time to time, wondering how she could possibly have the strength to be so spirited and brave knowing the consequences that could await her. What would the Duke do if he’d known about her little trip to the Red Pearl? He frowned to himself and looked forward. That had been reckless, but he understood her need for life. For freedom. She had wanted to experience things that everyone else in the world took for granted. They said she was Chosen, privileged. But she was also alone.

Well, no she wasn’t. Not anymore.

As they stopped in front of her door he turned to her. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Tawny gets an ointment from the healer. It will help, but I may not be… I may stay in my room for a while. But I heal pretty quickly, and this isn’t the worst I’ve had…”

The anger roiled through him as she trailed off. Of course it wasn’t. Of course seven lashes for not touching her embroidery set and her attitude hadn’t been the worst that he’d done to her.

“I… he…” he swallowed and took two deep breaths. “I’m going to calm myself so I don’t do anything reckless about what you just said.”

“I’m sorry,” she answered quietly.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Penellaphe. None of this is your fault. I am simply… staggered by his cruelty,” he managed a soft smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Get some rest.” Hawke reached down and squeezed her hand before he opened the door and motioned for her to go in. He began to close the door behind her when she stopped.

“Hawke?”

“Yes?” he answered, looking for her eyes behind the veil.

“You can… please, call me Poppy,” she gave a shy grin and shuffled into the room. He pushed the door closed behind her and leaned his forehead against the wood.

He was shaking.

Breathe, Hawke. Breathe.

His ragged breaths seethed out from between his teeth. In for four counts, out for four. In… out… in… out...

After what seemed like ages of breathing exercises he pushed away from the door and stalked down the hall.

He needed to think. And talk to Kieran. He would be none-too-thrilled at the change of plans.

But plans would change.

Duke Teerman would die.

They would have to find another way to get his brother back.

Because nobody was going to hurt Poppy again.

[pikelanette]

Trinket

hey friends!! been a while, I know... but hey, here’s some modern AU perc’ahlia! inspired by the prompt ‘carnival’ and kind of sad but also kind of happy (my favourite)

Pairing: perc’ahlia Words: 4580 Rated: T Link: ao3

a modern au about winning bears at carnivals

The first time Vex’ahlia saw Trinket, she let out a delighted chuckle.

Gilmore was showing them all of the prizes the kids could win at his shooting game at the annual Emon carnival. He’d pulled it all together at record speed. Apparently, his diner was going through just a tiny bit of a dip in visits, so he wanted to lure in some more families with younger kids by participating in the carnival and plastering his logo on everything he sold. He told Vex and Vax about it a couple of weeks ago and flirted with both of them until they gave in and promised that they’d help out. Vax would help out at the waffle stand and Vex was going to run the shooting game stand a few lanes over.

The game was fairly simple: customers had to hit a couple of unicorn-themed targets with a small plastic gun that shot tiny squishy balls. If they couldn’t hit any, they got a consolation prize, a discount for a waffle at Gilmore’s other stand. But if they did manage to get some hits in, there was a variety of small, cute prizes for them to pick from. And the biggest prize was a huge bear plushie.

Vex’s eyes shone brightly as she looked the bear over. When her brother saw what she was looking at, he snorted. Then he reached out and took her hand. He got it, of course.

When they were six, their mother took them to a carnival. The big prize for one of the games was a huge bear plushie just like this one. Weirdly realistic, kind of menacing, absolutely perfect for her. She’d spent a stupid amount of time trying to win it, but money was tight, and when she noticed her mom’s guilty expression every time she opened her wallet, she let it go. It didn’t stop her from walking by the stall a couple of more times, just to see the bear. She made up a story where she’d rescue him from his carnival prison and he would be her best friend. Together, they’d go an adventure. Vax too, of course. He was part of all of her adventures.

Quietly giving up on that bear was a turning point in her life. It was the moment she realised that her mom needed her help. Her mom needed her to be strong and happy with the tiniest things. Her mom needed her to stop wanting things.

Vex’ahlia never stopped wanting things.

She hadn’t thought of that bear in years. Her life had a bunch of other turning points that kind of took the spotlight away from it. Losing their mother to cancer. Moving in with their horrible father. Finally leaving his house the second she and Vax turned eighteen.

That last one got their lives onto a better track, though. Things got better after they left the Vessar family behind. It was rough at first, of course, trying to make a living, but they’d saved up money while they still lived with their father for that exact purpose, so things never got out of hand. They took any jobs they could for a while, and then they went into the food business. They opened their bakery when they were twenty-four. Thanks to Vax’s creativity and Vex’s eye for business, it took off after a year.

It was a little poetic that the bear came back into her life after all that.

She walked up to it and patted one of its arms, greeting it like an old friend. Gilmore had no idea what was happening and his head was too full to ask, so he just told her to get acquainted with the place before the opening the day after and dragged Vax off to see to the waffle stand.

Vex watched them go with a smile on her face and turned back to the bear. “It’s you and me again, buddy,” she told it. She grabbed its paw and shook it. “Nice to finally meet you. This is going to be fun.”

And it was fun.

Their bakery hadn’t made it through the selection process for the food stands at the carnival, but this way she could still show her face to prospective customers. People knew her as Vex from the bakery, so every time she chatted with them and handed out prizes to the children, she knew that she was putting her bakery back into their heads. The bakery was open, of course; their employees were running it during these weeks. Vex knew exactly how to pepper that fact into conversation.

Gilmore’s game was deceptively simple, so most customers left with a nice prize. The discount system worked too: Vax told her that most of the people who won a discount code showed up to get their waffles and spent some extra money on drinks and special toppings. Gilmore’s business was booming. And according to JP, the bakery was seeing customers too, despite the carnival.

The shifts were very long, but Vex didn’t mind. After the carnival she’d be beat for a couple of days, but for now she was thriving. She loved commerce. She loved carnivals. And Vax brought her waffles.

She ran the stand by herself, which kept her very busy during rush hours, but she preferred it that way. She liked having full control over the entire place. It reminded her of the first year at the bakery, when Vax and her were the only people keeping the place together. It was a little weird not to have Vax there, sometimes, considering that comparison, but every time she felt that she could just turn to Trinket.

She named him Trinket because all of the prizes were trinkets, and because he was adorable. Every morning when she came in, she patted him on his arm and told him good morning. A few days into the carnival, everyone knew that Vex had made friends with the giant bear at the shooting stand. She would stand next to it when the children were shooting and pretend to talk to it about how incredible their aim was. She’d frown and nod like she was listening to a response and tell the children that Trinket thought that they were awesome. No one came close to winning him, of course. You needed seriously good aim to get all of the targets, and for the big prize there was a time limit too.

Of course, some people couldn’t resist teasing her about her friendship with the bear. Like the handsome engineer who fixed broken games all day

He caught her eye as early as the second day of the carnival. He was called in to fix the Wack-A-Mole came right opposite to Vex’s stand and Vex absolutely did a double take when he came walking up.

He was wearing the same blue uniform as all the other engineers at the carnival did, but there was something different about him. He held himself as straight as a rod, every movement efficient and sharp. He wore glasses, golden-rimmed, and his shoes might be well-worn, they were clearly very high quality.

Money, she concluded with a surprise. You didn’t usually spot people with money doing jobs like this. He must enjoy it.

There was a lull in business around the time the engineer worked the Wack-A-Mole, so she had all the time in the world to send glances his way and check him out as he worked. He disappeared behind the machine for a while, but eventually he came back out, covered in grime and dirt and slightly sweaty. He wiped his hand over his forehead, still holding a wrench, and then he looked up and stared straight at her.

He looked eerily composed for someone who had just done some very dirty work. Something inside of Vex jumped to attention.

The engineer turned back to the guy running the Wack-A-Mole without saying anything and told him that there shouldn’t be any more problems with the machine. Vex made sure to busy herself at the till as they said their goodbyes, somehow knowing that he wouldn’t just leave. And she was right. Footsteps came up to her stand and halted, and when she looked up with her customer service smile, she found the handsome engineer.

“You must be bored,” he said. His voice was smooth and perfect, like whiskey down her throat. Lovely.

“It is rather quiet at the moment,” she replied, her smile fading into a more sincere one, “But the past half hour has been pretty entertaining.”

He smiled back. “You have a pretty intense stare.”

She leaned against the counter. “Being subtle is overrated, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes,” he said, “It has a time and a place.” He smiled again. “I’m Percy. I’d shake your hand, but…” He wiggled his grimy fingers. “Perhaps some other time.”

“I suppose we could do introductions without the traditional handshake,” Vex teased, “I’m Vex’ahlia.”

“Vex’ahlia,” he repeated, “Nice to meet you. You work with Gilmore?”

“Temporarily. He’s a friend. My brother and I own the bakery on sixth.”

“You didn’t get a spot with the stands?”

She shrugged. “Too many applicants. We’ll try again next year.”

“Shame. You make a mean cinnamon roll.”

Vex laughed. She was very proud of their cinnamon rolls. “You’re a fan, are you? I don’t remember seeing you around. I’m sure I would.”

He patted his head. “Is it the hair?”

He did have a very distinctive shock of white hair. But they’d already established her opinion on subtlety.

“That, and your face.”

He snorted and shot her a look. She just grinned back at him unabashedly.

“My sister usually picks them up,” he said, ignoring her compliment, “We have them for our Sunday brunch.”

Vex smiled. “What a lovely idea. We also have a great brioche every week. It makes for some really delicious French toast. Perfect for a brunch.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to flirt me into spending more money, Vex’ahlia?”

She laughed and sent him a mischievous look. “I merely want you to have the best brunch experience as possible, Percy. We just happen to offer the best product.”

He looked her over and waved his finger at her. “You’re dangerous,” he concluded.

“Absolutely. But you don’t look like you scare easily.”

He grinned. “I do not.”

“Then I expect I’ll see you around.”

“You’d be wise to.”

“I am so wise.”

He came by every day after that. Usually, he just chatted her up during one of his shifts. His work took him everywhere around the carnival and he passed by her stand often enough to just have a brief moment to flirt with her. He was a good flirter. She was enjoying herself.

The first time he caught her doing her little act with Trinket in front of some kids, he hid his laughter behind a fist. It was busy, so he didn’t say anything at the time, but when he came back later that day he had a twinkle in his eye that told her that he hadn’t forgotten.

“You never introduced us,” he said as he approached.

Vex sighed, catching his meaning, and patted Trinket on his arm. “Do you hear that, buddy? We’ve made Percy question himself.”

“Well, the two of you are clearly very close.” Percy leaned against the counter, cocking his head at her. “A man can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason you didn’t want us to meet.”

She crossed her arms. “Not every guy gets to meet my pet bear.”

“You wound me.”

She laughed. Over the days, Percy had really made an impression on her. There was something about the way he looked at her, something sharp and perceptive, that made her feel seen in a way that she usually didn’t. Plus, he could dish it out as well as he took it. That was rare, in her experience.

She was called away to let some kids play the game and his gaze drifted over to the targets. Sometimes, when he watched someone play it, he started tapping his fingers against his thigh. There was a nervous energy to him when he watched someone shoot.

Vex smiled to herself and told Trinket that the girl was doing incredible. Once the child left with her prize, a plastic unicorn the size of a microwave, she sauntered back over to Percy.

“Just do it,” she said.

He turned his gaze on her. “Do what?”

She nodded to the game. “Give it a try. You clearly want to.”

He laughed.

She absolutely adored his laughter.

“It does seem fun,” he admitted, his eyes still twinkling joyfully.

“Well, go for it.” She winked at him. “Give me your money, Percy.”

“You won’t even give me a discount?”

“Percy, I am a businesswoman.”

He snorted and flexed his fingers, looking back at the targets. “Alright. Sure.” He dug into his pockets and pulled out some coins, depositing them in Vex’s outstretched hand. She put them in the till as he picked up the tiny plastic gun. It looked ridiculous in his large hands; a hilarious sight that she was trying not to laugh at. She didn’t want to break his concentration.

He weighed the thing in his hands for a second and then brought it up. His fingers flexed one more time. Then he pulled the trigger.

He hit the first target easily. “A strong start,” Vex told Trinket appreciatively.

His lips quirked up into a lop-sided smile, but he didn’t look away from the game. He shot again.

Hit.

Again.

Hit.

By this point, Vex was watching him with a bemused grin. He was good. Where did he get that kind of aim?

She checked the prize ratings to see what he was going to get if he kept this up.

He missed the next one and cursed, but Vex felt a rush of relief as she realised he wasn’t going to get a perfect score. She patted Trinket’s arm.

He hit the next three, then missed the last two. All in all, it was the best score anyone had gotten as of yet.

“Impressive,” she said as he put the plastic gun back down. She turned to the prizes to pull down an extensive embroidery set (unicorn-pattern included). “Much experience with fire arms?”

“In a way. I work at the paintball range just out of town.”

“Really?”

This man really loved to get down and dirty, huh?

She held out his prize to him. “That’s pretty cool. Is everyone there as good as you are?”

Percy tentatively took the embroidery set out of her hands, looking at it like it was a lost child he had no idea what to do with. “Not really. But they’re decent enough.”

She laughed at his expression and his blunt confidence. The sound of it drew his gaze back to her, and he sent her that enticing half-smile again.

“Well, I’m certainly impressed,” she told him, trying not to blush. Her heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at her like that, and it was ridiculously embarrassing, even if he couldn’t tell.

Percy hummed and looked back at the game. “Don’t be impressed yet.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t give her an explanation. Instead, he got back to work, leaving her with a wave of his hand and a row of question marks on her mind, the embroidery set tucked underneath his arm. The question marks disappeared soon enough, because business picked up again after that.

Something in had changed, though. After that, he tried the game every day. He started hitting the fourth target pretty quickly, but the last two still eluded him. They were pretty challenging, and the little plastic gun clearly wasn’t his preferred weapon.

It was Vex’s favourite part of the day. Percy would come by, usually bringing her a drink or a snack or just a snarky comment about someone at the carnival, he’d hand her some cash and then he’d try the game. He didn’t get frustrated when he couldn’t hit everything, but he was never truly content with his work either. He just stared at the last two targets sometimes, cogs in his head clearly whirling, trying to figure out how to make this work. But he never stayed too long – he always got back to work right when he was supposed to. Percy was nothing if not punctual. Plus, he loved his work here. She could tell from the way he talked about it.

Vex was having the time of her life. Not even her brother’s teasing about Percy could dull her sheer joy.

Then one day, Percy hit the eighth target.

Vex couldn’t deny the way her stomach dropped when the squishy little ball hit the target. Percy looked better than he ever did, staring at it with a fire in his eyes that made him seem invincible. But Vex couldn’t focus on it, because she was too busy clutching the huge artificial bear beside her.

Percy brought up the gun again, and part of her wanted to call out for him to stop. Panic hit her like a freight train and she held her breath.

He missed.

Vex breathed out and tried to still her shaking fingers. Percy was frowning at the target, clearly discontent. She laughed to relieve some of her own tension.

“Don’t feel bad, darling,” she said, “The last one is a real killer. I think it was made to be impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Percy said. He eyed the ninth target again, still holding the gun as if he might try again.

“Until when were you on break?” Vex asked quickly, “Five to? Because then you should be getting back to work.”

Percy nodded and put down the gun, turning to smile at her. “You’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Vex’ahlia.”

“Looking forward to it.”

She waved at him before he disappeared into the crowd. Then her smile dropped from her face.

She tried to shake off the tension in her neck and shoulders. She was doing customer service, for God’s sake. She had to look welcoming.

She plastered her smile back on and tried to forget.

She thought it worked right up until Percy came back the next day, a smile on his face and his money already in his hand. Immediately, her shoulders tensed up again.

She smiled back at him. “Back to give it another try, then?”

“I’m going to get it one of these days.”

“Oh, well… There’s only five days left. You might have to concede.”

Percy handed her the money, his eyes already on the targets. “Not I, Vex’ahlia. Not I.”

Vex’s heart was in her throat from the moment he picked up the gun to the second he put it back down. He still couldn’t hit the ninth target, but she was getting seriously nervous. He’d managed to go from hitting the first seven to the first eight in… What, three days? There were still five days of the carnival left. The ninth target was definitely the hardest to hit, but, contrary to what she said before, it wasn’t impossible. He just needed some seriously good aim and a healthy dose of luck.

She looked at her bear. She felt jittery and uncomfortable, like she’d had too much caffeine.

“Are you alright?” Percy asked, a worried frown between his eyes.

Vex almost jumped. “What? Yes. I’m fine.”

She was being short with him, but for some reason he was annoying her right then.

He didn’t seem to pick up on it. Instead, he just nodded and said his goodbyes before heading back out into the fray.

Vex couldn’t calm down for the rest of the day. She kept glancing at Trinket, standing beside her all big and strong and dependable. She wouldn’t admit to it, but she’d been secretly thinking about taking him home after the carnival was done. She was sure she could give Gilmore a fair price for him. After all, she was now at an age where she could indulge herself. She could have the huge bear plushie if she wanted to. She could take him if no one else did.

After her shift ended that night, she looked up Gilmore. She couldn’t help herself.

“Shaun,” she said, making her voice and smile as warm and inviting as possible.

He arched an eyebrow at her, already suspicious.

Vex dropped the act. She frowned. “Is there a way to make sure that no one wins the main prize?”

“What?”

She was about to repeat her question when he held up a hand to silence her. “That’s illegal,  Vex. We’re not doing that.”

“But is there?” she pushed.

Gilmore sighed and stepped up to her, sending her one of his own signature dazzling grins. “Vex’ahlia. Darling. If you mess with the mechanics of my game, I will snap your neck like a twig.”

Vex repressed an angry pout and turned away from him. “I was just joking,” she snapped. She straightened out her shirt and left him.

The next few days, she had to physically restrain herself from biting her nails while on shift. The jittery energy she’d felt the day Percy hit the eighth target was a constant now. She kept bouncing her leg and rolling a coin between her fingers. She did breathing exercises to keep herself from rushing the customers, but she couldn’t help the turbulent river of nervousness that coursed through her own body. The sight of Percy’s white shock of hair in the crowd was no longer something that she looked forward to. Instead, every day she crossed her fingers that that day he’d be too busy to visit.

He never was, of course. No, he showed up every day, at a different moment, catching her off guard just as business lulled for a moment. First, she’d draw him into conversation, asking him about his work, his family, his hobbies, anything. She flirted excessively, trying to keep his attention fully occupied. But, about five minutes before his break would end, he’d hand her the money and pick up the gun.

She hated him a little bit in those moments. Couldn’t this guy take a fucking hint?

But he still hadn’t hit the ninth target by the time the last day of the carnival arrived. Vex dared to be a little hopeful. The odds were against him, at least, and she’d talked to Gilmore about taking Trinket home after the carnival. As long as they got through this day, her buddy would have a permanent place in her living room. But she hadn’t yet cleared out a spot. She didn’t have that kind of confidence yet.

When Percy came to the shooting stand that day, it felt like the moment that the entirety of these two weeks had led up to. She kind of felt like there should be a crowd for this. Someone should be paying attention, at least. Instead, everyone around them was just having their regular fun. Someone was cackling at the Wack-A-Mole stand. A mother was chastising her child for holding their ice-cream a little loosely. In the distance, they could hear the excited yelling of people on one of the more exciting rides.

Percy smiled at her as he gave her the money for the game. “One more try,” he said conspiratorially.

Vex forced a laugh that sounded hollow to her own ears, clutching the money in her hands.

She refused to hold onto Trinket as Percy picked up the gun. Instead, she crossed her arms, hunching her shoulders a little. She felt small, and she hated it. She hated that she cared about this. She hated that she couldn’t talk about it.

She was six years old again, walking past that carnival game just to steal another glance.

Percy hit the first five targets easily. He moved in a smooth line now, quick as a dancer. He was beautiful.

He took a breath before he hit the sixth. Took a second. Hit the seventh. The eighth.

Vex’ahlia held her breath. Her heart was racing. For some reason, fight or flight was kicking in, and she had the incredible urge to break something. She wanted to punch his pretty face.

Percy angled the gun. He moved his hand a hairbreadth. Settled.

Vex followed the little ball with her eyes as it shot towards the ninth target. She watched it sail right into it with an audible plop.

Bells went off. She was pretty sure a confetti gun covered the entire place in colourful paper. She didn’t care.

Tears rushed into her eyes. She was six years old, and she had to walk past the carnival stand. She had to give up the bear.

She looked up and caught the tail-end of an adorable dorky victory dance that Percy was doing. He had a grin on his face that could light up the night sky.

She turned away quickly, palming at her eyes to get rid of the tears. She took a deep breath.

She was twenty-seven. It was time to give up the bear.

“Congratulations!” she said, turning back to Percy with a smile.

His grin had faded into a content smirk. “I knew I could do it. I just had to get it right.”

“It’s a real feat.”

She tried to keep her voice peppy. Percy was a good guy. She liked Percy. It was just a bear.

He was basking in his own satisfaction. “Can I come pet him?” he asked her, a tease to his voice.

Vex forced a laugh and waved him over to the stand’s entry point. “Of course. He’s all yours.”

Percy entered the stand and stepped up into her space since the first time she met him. He was a little taller than she was, and he smelled like oil and caramel apples. He had her favourite smile on his face, but she couldn’t enjoy it.

She turned her face away and led him to Trinket. “Here he is! The man himself.”

“An honour to finally meet you,” Percy said, patting Trinket’s paw with his hand.

Vex bit her cheek.

“So,” Percy said casually, glancing at her, “What are you going to do with him?”

She blinked slowly. “What?”

“The bear,” Percy said, “Where are you going to put him? He’s pretty big.”

“Where am I going to put him?”

“Well, yes.” Percy turned his body towards her and crossed his arms, smiling down at her. His eyes had a boyish glint to them. “I’m not going to separate a lady from her pet bear. What do you take me for?”

Vex needed another few moments to wrap her head around what he was telling her. “What? You… What, you’re… You’re… Wait, you’re giving me the bear? You won it.”

“I think you’ll give him a better home than I would. Besides, isn’t this customary? Winning a prize for your date?”

“You…” Vex’ahlia let out a laugh. All of the tension she’d accumulated dispersed in one cackling bout of laughter. When she finally wiped the tears from her eyes, Percy was looking at her a little weird, although not at all displeased.

“I didn’t know we were on a date,” she said finally. Her hand reached for Trinket instinctively, and when she touched him, she knew that she could finally take him home.

She was twenty-seven. This bear was hers.

[oliviaischillin1204]

let’s play a game

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Word Count: 5,983 words

inspired by this post by @thetickleeraven (thank you dani!! this was why i sent you that ask a few days ago lol, i hope i did your idea justice)

imma keep it real with you chief. idk how good this is but it’s Long and also i haven’t posted anything in over a month and i miss it so i hope y’all enjoy and hopefully i will be able to keep this motivation train going

Honestly, no one could really agree on who was to blame for the game. They had just been talking about what to do for their next game night (Patton’s idea) when the subject somehow came around to how much fun they all had when they played tickling games together (Roman’s fault, of course). Then someone (Logan, probably) began brainstorming a potential set of rules and regulations, and the game was made.

But if anyone really wanted the truth, well. It was Virgil who asked if they could play it tonight. So here they were.

“Everyone remember the rules?” Logan asked, smoothing a hand over his tie like he did when he was nervous. Roman nodded, pulling out the instructions on a sparkly piece of paper.

“Each number on the die correlates to a type of laugh. 1 is snort, 2 is giggle, 3 is squeal, 4 is scream, 5 is whine, and 6 is cackle,” he recited. “My and Patton’s objective is to coax that type of laughter from our respective lees, in any way possible.”

He shot his eyes over to Logan, who pointedly did not let his gaze drop, even as his cheeks grew warmer. Next to him, Virgil was already wrapping his arms around his midriff as Patton gave him a cheeky smile.

“If the ler can accomplish his task in less than one minute, he gets two points,” Roman continued. “If he succeeds after one minute, both the ler and the lee get one point. Zero points to the ler and two points to the lee if the group agrees that the lee has lasted long enough without letting the ler win.”

Virgil scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s definitely not a biased way to measure it.”

“Oh, so you think the lee should be tickled until they give up whatever laughter their ler is looking for?” Roman asked, quirking his head innocently. “Because if that’s what you want, to get tickled and tickled until you finally break, we can change the rules now--”

“Okay! Enough!” Virgil blurted, face significantly redder than it was a few seconds before. He hugged himself tighter as Roman laughed, reaching over to pat his knee in reassurance.

“Everyone ready, gang?” Patton asked, his face full of excitement.

“Ready!” Roman chirped, while Virgil and Logan merely nodded. “Who wants to go first?” 

Virgil paused, looking around the small circle before dropping his eyes to his hands in his lap. He wanted to play the game, of course, he wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t want to do it, but the idea of going first was not looking particularly appealing to him. Luckily, Logan must have caught on to his discomfort, because the logical side drew everyone’s attention with a small cough.

“If it’s all the same,” he said, “I think I’d prefer it if Roman and I were first.”

Roman grinned. “Just can’t wait, can you?” He smirked when Logan’s face went a bit pink at his words, and he reached for the die.

“Okay, here we go...” he said grandly, somehow managing to turn a simple phrase so dramatic that the other three sides couldn’t help but laugh. He shook the die in his hand and dropped it onto the floor, allowing all four of them to watch it roll to a stop. 

Patton leaned forward, straightening his glasses. “That’s a 5!”

Immediately Logan had to fight off a nervous smile, especially when Roman turned to him with a joyful look in his eyes.

“You know what to do, Specs,” he said with a certain teasy tone in his voice. “On your stomach, please.”

Logan complied without protesting, mostly because he was a little grateful to start the game on one of his less intense spots. He laid his head on his folded arms, feeling a little shy under Virgil and Patton’s curious gazes.

“One minute on the timer, starting...” 

He couldn’t hear anything behind him for a few seconds, and the awful anticipation made him want to squirm. Finally, just before he was about to ask Roman if everything was alright, he felt two fingers slowly begin to walk down his spine.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself, quickly pressing his lips into a thin line. Roman’s low chuckle from somewhere behind him was not helping in the slightest.

“Don’t be rude, Teach,” he teased, speeding up his fingers a bit as he began skimming the fingers from his other hand around his shoulderblades. “I just want to hear you whine, and what better way to do that than tickling your favorite melt spot? I mean, it is still your favorite, isn’t it?”

Logan didn’t answer, half because he didn’t want to admit that Roman was right, and half because he’s not sure what sort of noises would come out of him if he opened his mouth right now. All of his focus was on Roman’s skilled fingers, now focused on spidering down his spine to congregate on the back of his hips, occassionally giving quick scratches to the exposed stretch of skin above his pantline where his shirt had come untucked.

“Tickle tickle tickle,” Roman murmured, and wow they really should’ve made a rule against verbal teasing because it was making the fluttering feeling against his back so much more tickly. Logan found himself subtly rocking back and forth, as if he could displace Roman’s hands by moving his torso two inches to the left.

“Oh, feeling a bit wiggly, are we?” Roman asked, the smirk audible in his voice. “Hang on, I think I remember what to do here--”

Logan’s eyes went wide, but it was too late: Roman had shoved one hand up his shirt and was now grazing that one specific spot on the back of his ribs with his fingernails. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Logan’s back arched involuntarily, and he let out a quiet, high pitched keening noise that no one could deny was a textbook whine. He began to let out quiet giggles as well, muffling the sound into his arms with no avail.

“The trick is to only do one side at a time,” he heard Roman confide in their onlookers. “Two hands makes him absolutely freak out, but one hand is just enough to--”

“Stohohop! You won!” Logan blurted through his giddy noises. He heard Roman scoff in mock offense before finally pulling his hand out of Logan’s shirt, pulling it back down and patting his back comfortingly.

“Thank you for the points, Pocket Protector! I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re too upset about losing, are you?”

Logan rolled his eyes as he sat up, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Yes, yes, you passed the first round. Congratulations on your two points. Whose turn is it now?”

Patton giggled. “Our turn, silly!” He turned to Virgil, raising his eyebrows.

“Virge, you ready?”

“Yep,” Virgil replied quickly. “I’ll roll.” He snatched up the die before he could change his mind, rolling it in his palm. Something about being the one in control of the dice made him feel better, and Roman always says confidence is key, so maybe the universe would see how bold he was being and would go easy on him--?

The die dropped from his hand by accident and rolled to a stop on the floor, with the number 1 practically glowing up at him.

“Fuck off.” Thanks, universe.

To his left, Patton gave a dramatic gasp. “Virgil! Language!” His eyes narrowed, turning playfully dangerous as he continued, “Oh, you’re gonna be sorry you said that, kiddo! Roman, get the timer!”

Virgil’s eyes widened, and it took everything in him to not full on run away from what he knew he was coming; but, again, he agreed to play by the rules, so he only fought a minimal amount as Patton crawled forward to pull him to his doom.

“Patton, no, Patton, no, Patton no!” 

“Patton, yes!” Patton replied, pulling the flailing anxious side towards him until Virgil’s back was leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Timer’s ready,” Roman interjected with a fair bit of amusement. He started the stopwatch, holding it up so Patton and Virgil could see it.

“Are you ready, Virgil? Are you ready?” Patton cooed, watching in delight as Virgil’s ears turned bright red. “Oh, it’s tickle time! It’s tickle time! It’s ticky-ticky-ticky tickle time!”

“Pahahatton!” he protested, already slipping into giggles as he fought to keep Patton’s breath off of his ear. “No tahahalking!”

“Oh, no talking?” Patton hummed, being kind enough to not press him mouth against Virgil’s neck so he could torture him with the vibrations. “Well, if I can’t talk, maybe I’ll just have to--”

He struck before finishing his sentence, catching Virgil off guard with a big, noisy kiss right behind his ear. A sound that was half laugh, half yell escaped his lips before he slammed his hands over his mouth.

“Oh, whatcha doing, Virgil?” Patton asked, peering over to catch his eye. “You trying not to laugh, silly billy? You think you can hold it in? Aw, you’re so cute!”

He combined the compliment with a soft peck of a kiss to the back of Virgil’s ear, and a full body shiver wracked Virgil’s frame. Patton grinned, and repeated the action several more times, tightening his hold around Virgil’s waist to keep him from squirming right out of his lap.

“Do you like my kisses, Virgil? Huh? Virgey likes the kissy-kisses?”

Virgil grunted behind his hands, his eyes screwed shut in half desperation and half embarrassment.

Patton grinned. Virgil was so silly! By covering his mouth and being forced to breathe through his nose, he was making it much easier to coax those cute little snorts out of him! Speaking of which--

“Virgil,” he murmured, letting his warm breath brush over Virgil’s ear and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I’m gonna give you to the count of three, and then you’re gonna give me those snorts. Okay? One...”

Virgil shook his head frantically, but Patton paid him no mind.

“Two...”

A choked laugh came from behind his hands, but Patton didn’t do anything. He just sat there, casually exhaling slowly over the back of Virgil’s neck. The anxious side continued to squirm, his entire body tensed for the anticipated attack, but still nothing came. He knew it was a trick, he knew it, but he couldn’t keep his muscles tensed forever, so maybe if he just relaxed for a quick second he could--

The instant Patton felt Virgil’s body go slightly slack in his arms, he pressed his lips to the back of his neck and blew the biggest raspberry he could manage.

Virgil gasped and burst out laughing in quick succession, hands dropping from his mouth as he weakly tried to push Patton away from him somehow. He inhaled loudly, letting his breath run out with his laughter, and then--

Snort.

“Gohohod dammit!” Virgil screamed through his uncontrollable giggles, face growing even redder as he made another adorable snorting sound. He was aware of Roman cheering and Logan saying something about points, but all he could think about was how desperately he needed Patton’s mouth off of his neck right now immediately.

Unfortunately for him, Patton didn’t relent, instead blowing a bunch of smaller rasperries against his neck to keep Virgil snorting for at least a few more seconds. Just so they could get a clear ruling on whether or not he’d won the points! No other reason, of course.

Finally he let Virgil go, unwrapping his arms from his waist as the other side shot his hands up to rub at his poor neck protectively.

“Got your snorties, little piggie!” Patton chirped. Virgil tried to glower at him, but the effect was ruined by his bright pink cheeks and wobbly smile.

“So that’s two points for Roman, two points for Patton, and none for Virgil or myself,” Logan repeated. “Roman, will you roll the die?”

Roman grinned. “With great pleasure, Loganberry!” He snatched up the die, only giving it a few shakes before throwing it to the floor. It bounced for a moment until it came to rest right in front of Logan.

He peered at it, and his eyes lit up in triumph. “Ah. This will be an easy one, then.”

“Why, what’d you get?” Patton asked. Logan carefully picked up the die and presented the number 2 to the group.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “And that makes this easy for you, because...?”

“Because,” Logan said stiffly, shifting his glasses, “I do not giggle.”

The other three sides paused as his words sunk in.

“Logan, buddy,” Roman said gently, “we’ve definitely heard you giggle before. Like, two minutes ago.”

Logan huffed. “Because I wasn’t trying to control myself at that point. Trust me, if given the opportunity, I am perfectly adept at withholding such light laughter.”

He wasn’t expecting Roman to suddenly cross the distance between them, kneeling before him with a focus that made him shrink back on instinct.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that, ” Roman said, pushing Logan by the shoulders until he was flat on his back, easily crawling over his hips and pinning his arms above his head with one hand. The bright and dangerous look in his eyes was enough to make Logan freeze like a trapped animal.

He heard Patton say something about the timer, but all he could focus on was Roman, as the creative side raised one hand to hover over his chest.

The two of them made eye contact for just a moment, before Roman grinned.

“The itsy, bitsy spider went up the water spout--”

Logan’s eyes bulged. “No--!”

But it was too late: Roman began spidering his fingers up Logan’s side, starting from just above his hips and lazily crawling up his torso.

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out!”

He scratched his way down Logan’s side again, taking his time to thoroughly cover the sensitive spots with tickles. Logan writhed, throwing himself as far to the other side as he could.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,” Roman sang, leaning forward to blow cool air across Logan’s neck to make him squirm while his fingers focused on one specific spot halfway up his side.

“Ssst- stohohop, stop,” Logan begged. Roman ignored him in favor of tightening his grip on Logan’s wrists as he moved his fingers higher again.

“And the itsy, bitsy spider--”

“No!”

“Went up the spout--”

“Roman!”

“Again!” Roman cheered as his fingers made his way to Logan’s exposed armpit, scratching and skittering away in the ticklish little hollow. Logan bucked, twisted his body, and yanked on his arms as hard as he could, but despite everything, he did not giggle.

“Thirty seconds, Ro!” Patton called. Roman’s mouth set into a firm line.

“If you make me lose, Lo, I’ll make you regret it,” he murmured. He stopped tickling as he pulled his hand back, and Logan took the break to exhale.

“If you lose, it will be because of your own inadequacy,” he retorted, still pulling on his arms. Roman’s eyes narrowed.

“Yep, regret time starts now,” he announced, and before Logan could react, he released his hold on Logan’s wrists and attached both hands to his ribs, squeezing and prodding the bones with no rhyme or reason.

“Ro-oman! Nahahahaha- nohoho!” Logan’s shocked laughter bust out of him at the unexpected intense tickles. His hands dropped, trying to pull Roman’s hands off of his ribcage, but Roman’s vibrating fingers made him weak with laughter.

“There it is!” Roman said triumphantly. “See, we just need to break you down first, right? That’s all you need, just some big tickles so we can break down those walls!” His grin morphed into a smirk as he suddenly abandoned Logan’s ribs and grabbed his wrists once again, wiggling his free hand over Logan’s armpit.

“And now we just--”

His finger dove in, spiraling in circles around Logan’s hollow before dipping into the deepest part of his armpit. Logan gasped, body going tense for a short second before he went limp, falling into helpless giggles at the teasy pit tickles.

Virgil snickered from the sidelines, leaning over to check the stopwatch. “And with 5 seconds left, Logan loses yet again.” He laughed out loud at the petulant pout on Logan’s face, but stopped laughing as Logan sat up, grabbing the die and tossing it to him.

“Your turn, Virgil,” he said smoothly. “I do hope Patton doesn’t target your tummy next. That would just be awful for you.”

Virgil flushed as Patton and Roman laughed, but he did roll the die quickly enough that he couldn’t pretend he hated Logan’s suggestion. It bounced for a second before coming to a stop in front of Patton, whose brow furrowed in determination.

“Oh, this is a hard one,” he admitted while looking down at the 3. “Virgil doesn’t really squeal that much, ‘cause if it tickles that bad he usually just starts laughing right away.”

Virgil made an embarrassed noise. “Pat--”

“I mean, I know his giggle spots, snorty spots, cackle spots, but squeals? He’s just too ticklish to not full-on laugh--”

“Pat!”

“Hm?” Patton looked back up at Virgil’s red face, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ before breaking into a smile. “Aw, sorry, stormcloud! I didn’t mean to tease.”

Virgil grumbled, but didn’t move away when Patton gently pushed him onto his back, hands covering his stomach instinctively. “Just-- just get it over with.”

“Don’t fret, Doom and Gloom!” Roman said, setting up the timer. “You might get some points this round!”

Logan made a disagreeing noise, looking down at Virgil with a teasy smile. “Oh, I have a good deal of faith that Patton will be able to make his little ‘stormcloud’ squeal.”

Virgil groaned, head thumping back onto the floor. “Oh my God, just be quiet-- ah!”

He jerked as he felt Patton’s fingers running along his neck, swiping up at his ears and down to his collarbone.

“Maybe there’s some squeals up here? What do you think?”

“Ngh!” Virgil spluttered, fighting to keep his hands from batting at Patton’s. His nails seemed to glide over the thin skin of his neck, sending the worst kinds of tingles down his spine and making his breath come faster.

“Hm, no? Are you sure?” Patton croon, tracing a finger around and around Virgil’s ear, giggling to himself as Virgil jerked his head away from the tickles. His fingers skittered downwards, coming to rest in the middle of Virgil’s chest.

“Let’s see... where should we go...”

He hummed in consideration, fingers skimming in different directions to keep Virgil guessing as he squirmed.

“How about... right here!” he finished, darting his hands down to tase Virgil’s sides. Just as he said, Virgil immediately broke into loud laughter, body moving from one side to another in a weak attempt to dodge the fluttering fingers on either side of his torso.

“A ticky-ticky-ticky-tickle!” Patton cooed. “Tickle-tickle-tickle, little Virgey! Oh, does it tickle, honey? Yeah? It does? Oh, I bet it just tickles so bad!”

He continue to tickle and tease, even though Virgil was well past the point of squealing. His eyes were screwed shut in giddy delight, his belly laughs coming fast and clear in his sensitive state.

Patton’s fingers trailed from his sides to his ribs to his underarms. “Hm, none o these are squealy spots, huh? You’re just too ticklish, huh, Virgil?”

“Plehehease,” Virgil giggled, embarassment curling in his stomach. “Dohohon’t--”

“Just squeal for me!” he replied cheerfully. “Come on, Virgey, you can do it!”

Virgil was laughing his head off, but he still didn’t even try to fake a squeal-- just because he didn’t want to give Patton two points, of course, and not because he might have actually been enjoying the tickles.

Until, of course, Patton’s hands reared up to hover over his stomach.

“Logan had such a good idea earlier,” he chirped. “Time for tummy tickles!”

Virgil gasped, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go, but a second later his laughter exploded out of him yet again as Patton began scribbling his fingers all over his stomach without preamble.

“Ahahahahahaha! Nahahahaha!” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from shooting his hands down to cover his stomach, but Patton merely tickled all of the exposed skin that he couldn’t cover at once. His feet drummed on the floor as he fought through his laughs, and between that and Patton’s incessant teasing he almost couldn’t hear the ‘beep beep’ of Roman’s phone in the background.

“Pahahat! The timer!”

Patton pouted. “Aw, so soon?” He pulled back, giving Virgil a chance to breathe, but a small cough from one of their onlookers pulled his attention.

“Actually, Patton,” Logan interjected, “the rules clearly state that the ler may continue until the group decides that the lee has lasted long enugh.” He smirked down at Virgil before turning to Roman. “Do you think he’s lasted long enough, Roman?”

Roman put a hand to his chin and hummed in consideration. He looked down at Virgil’s blushy, teary face, before grinning.

“I think Patton can still get those squeals! That okay, Virgil?”

Virgil glared at the two of them, who return his look with shit-eating grins.

“You are so de-ead!” Virgil’s threat ended in another explosion of helpless giggles as Patton returned to his task, squishing his tummy pudge with a cheerful dilligence.

“Oh, oh, oh! Virgil! I think I see somewhere your squeals might be hiding!”

Virgil craned his neck to look at Patton’s hands, which were now clawing the air right above his belly button. He gasped again.

“Nah! Not there!” he cried, drawing his legs up to protect his stomach.

“But Virgil! I wanna play with your little button!” Patton replied, grabbing Virgil’s legs. He just wanted to pull them down so he could really give his little tickle button the attention it deserved, but then--

Virgil squeaked, loudly, when Patton’s fingers wrapped around his knee.

Virgil and Patton froze, sharing a look of surprise for a few seconds, before Patton gave him an evil grin.

“What was that, stormcloud?”

“N- nothing, nothing!” Virgil replied quickly, tugging at his legs, but he couldn’t stop Patton from gripping around his calf with one arm and clawing just above his kneecap with his other hand.

“Is this a tickle spot someone forgot to tell me about?” he asked innocently. Virgil shook his head, smile growing.

“Patton-- Popstar, please, I’ll do whatever you want, don’t ti-- don’t touch me!”

Patton tsked, swirling one finger around the bone. “Aw, I’m so sorry, honey, but you know the rules! If I find a tickle spot, I have to play with it!” He began pinching and vibrating his fingers in the muscle above Virgil’s knee, which sent him into desperate, frantic laughter, weakly trying to kick his legs out of Patton’s grip.

“You know, for someone with such tickly knees, your jeans sure have a lot of holes in them,” Patton pondered aloud, worming his fingers through one of the rips and scratching at Virgil’s bare skin.

“Wahahait-- wait!”

“Wait for what?” Patton asked, tracing his nails along his kneecap. “We’re just playing a game, right? Are you having fun, kiddo?”

Virgil’s giggles refused to dim enough for him to speak, but he still managed a small nod at Patton’s question.

“Aw, I’m having a lot of fun with you, too, stormcloud!” Patton cooed, darting a hand up to give a quick tickle to Virgil’s thighs, then to his hips, up to his tummy, back down to his thighs-- moving his hand too quickly for Virgil to predict or protect himself, all while his other hand was lazily tickling all around his bare knee.

“Tickle tickle tickle! Tickle tickle tickle! Aw, listen to those giggles! Those little giggly tickly giggles!” Patton’s teasing was pushing Virgil to the edge, the different sensations were keeping him in an unending stream of laughter, and he didn’t know how it could get any worse.

So of course, Patton chose that moment to slips his fingers around to caress the underside of Virgil’s knee, his nails tracing and stroking the thin skin.

“Tickle, tickle--”

And just like that, Virgil was squealing, loud and high pitched and desperate. He writhed on the floor, all of his attention on that one terrible little spot behind his knee. His hands came up in a useless attempt to cover his mouth.

“I did it!” Patton said triumphantly. He pulled his hands back to give Virgil room to breathe.

“You-- you--” Virgil panted, a wobbly smile on his face. When Patton continued to give him a beaming smile, he sighed and rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, you did it, Pat,” he said. “Good job.”

Patton chuckled, helping Virgil lean his head in his lap so he could rest. “Good job to you to, kiddo! You lasted way more than a minute!”

“One point for Virgil, and another point for Patton,” Roman confirmed. Eyes flicking between Virgil and Logan, he gave a cheeky smile as he turned to Logan and asked, “Hey, Specs, does that mean you’re the only one without a point?”

Logan bristled. “That is irrelevant. The game is not over yet.”

Roman’s grin widened. “We’ll see.” He grabbed the die, tossing it once in the air and catching it in his palm before holding it out to Logan. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Logan plucked the die from his hand without responding, thinking to himself as he prepared to roll. Of the 6 potential outcomes, he would have the best luck with one of the rolls he’d already gotten, 5 or 2. He was confident in his abilities to withhold his snorts or his squeals, so 1 or 3 were also safe bets. And honestly, he didn’t really tend to “cackle” (which was a subjective term and not a good indicator for the game, but that didn’t stop Roman from including it anyway) so 6 was also most likely a safe bet. Therefore, he had a 5/6 chance at getting at least one point this round.

With the security of someone who knows the odds, Logan rolled the die to Roman’s feet.

Roman looked down at it, an intentionally unreadable look on his face.

“Well?”

Roman didn’t answer, instead grabbing the die and showing it to Patton and Virgil, rudely keeping it out of Logan’s view. Based on Patton’s happy gasp and Virgil’s amused huff of laughter, Logan was not amused.

“What did I roll?” he asked sharply as Roman passed the die to Patton. “Patton!”

Patton laughed aloud. “Sorry, Logi.” He held up the die for Logan to see, and the logical side’s face paled at the sight of the number 4 peering back at him.

The world abruptly spun as Logan felt himself suddenly being moved from his seated position to lying flat on his back. The fall shocked him, but to his greater surprise he realized he was still moving-- he was being dragged across the carpet by his ankles.

“No!” he yelped before he could stop himself.

“Oh, yes!” Roman said, capturing both of Logan’s ankles underneath one arm, looking over his shoulder with a terrible grin. “We all know what it takes to make you scream, isn’t that right?”

One lazy finger trailed down Logan’s left sole, and he jumped, shaking his head frantically as his lips stayed clamped shut. Roman responded by adding a second finger, this time giving just the lightest of scratches to his right sole.

“Ngh,” Logan said, eloquent as ever. Roman chuckled.

“Aw, speechless already? Gosh, you must be really ticklish here if you can’t even handle a couple fingers. Maybe I should just--”

Roman began scratching against Logan’s heels, but nearly stopped when the logical side made a desperate noise, yanking his legs as hard as he could.

“Please!”

His voice was so full of panic, it made Roman stop, looking back with genuine concern at the blushy mess of a side on the floor behind him. Logan met his eyes, but despite how desperate he had sounded a moment before, he did not try any further attempts to escape.

“Oh, you really can’t handle the buildup, huh?”

Logan shook his head, eyes screwed shut and cheeks flushed. The following silence made him tense up with anticipation.

“... Okay, okay, don’t worry, Logan. I won’t be so mean as to tease your worst spot.”

His words settled over Logan, who, after a moment of surprise, breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank--”

Roman didn’t even let him finish his sentence before shoving his fingers directly under Logan’s toes, scratching at the skin with a merciless accuracy.

Logan immediately broke into loud screams of laughter.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Nahaha! Why--? Oh Gohohohod!” His howls of laughter exploded out of him as he writhed on the floor, hands jerking as he struggled to not lean forward and hit Roman on reflex.

“I said no teasing!” Roman defended, calling out over Logan’s wild laughter. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t tickle! Thanks for the points, Logan!”

He wormed his fingers in between Logan’s toes, scratching his nails along the stems, and Logan’s screams heightened to shrieks. One hand went to fruitlessly cover his mouth, while the other started started banging on the floor in desperation.

Roman, to his credit, didn’t tease, but he also didn’t stop tickling him, even though Logan had definitely already lost this round. What’s more, he kept going for a long time, longer than he should’ve, and had the timer really not gone off yet--?

Logan turned his head, blinking the laughter-induced tears out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the others, but all he saw was Patton smiling down at Virgil as he played with his hair. His phone sat untouched beside him.

Logan made an affronted noise through his laughter, waving an arm around to get Patton’s attention.

“Pahahat-- Patton! Timeheher!”

Patton snapped up, looking at Logan with confusion before his expression became guilty.

“Oh, gosh, was I supposed to set the timer? I’m sorry, Logan, I totally forgot!”

Roman laughed out loud at this revelation, and eased up on the tickling until he was merely skimming Logan’s soles. Virgil sat up and gave Logan a taunting grin.

“Sucks to suck, Teach,” he drawled. “It’s not Patton’s fault you’re too ticklish for this game--”

Logan’s hand shot out to grab the abandoned die on the ground, and he threw it right at Virgil.

“Virgil’s turn.”

The die hit Virgil’s chest and bounced onto the floor in front of Patton, who swooped it up with a joyous grin.

“Oh, Virgil! Look what we got!” He flipped the die over to show Virgil, who glanced at the number before doing a double take.

“What? No!” he insisted with a shaky smile. “No, we didn’t roll the die, Logan did-- no!”

Patton ignored his protests in favor of throwing him on the floor, struggling to pin him with how hard he was thrashing.

“Time for your little button!” he cooed, wrestling Virgil onto his back and straddling his hips. “Time for your little button!”

Virgil choked out a laugh, batting Patton’s hands away. “St-- stohohop-- stop!” The two scrabbled for a moment, but Patton was too quick, and in a second his pointer finger was shoved directly into Virgil’s belly button, wiggling and scratching and vibrating all at once.

“Nahahahahahaha!”

Virgil couldn’t even form words as Patton tickled his worst spot relentlessly, not even giving him any buildup to prepare for the tickly sensations. 

“A ticky ticky ticky ticky!” Patton cooed, giggling along with Virgil’s desperation. “Aw, is someone a little ticklish here? Right here in this little tickle button?”

“I think those are screams, Patton,” Logan managed through his light laughter. “He needs to cackle, remember?”

Patton hummed. “Oh, you’re right, Logan!”

He shifted so he could shove his thumb into Virgil’s belly button instead, corkscrewing it in the small hole as his other four fingers scratched and squeezed at his hypersensitive stomach. Virgil gasped for air, and his wheezing shrieks shifted into undeniable cackles.

“And there it is,” Roman announced. “Two more points for Patton!”

“What are the scores again, Roman?” Patton asked over Virgil’s laughter. Roman paused, tapping his fingers against Logan’s feet as he thought.

“I don’t remember!” he admitted. The two lers stopped, looking at their giggly, blushy lees as they let them catch their breath, Logan was covering as much of his bright red face as he could, while Virgil had gone practically boneless on the floor.

Roman and Patton shared another look, before Patton gave him a deceptively sweet grin.

“Sudden death round?”

Logan and Virgil’s eyes snapped open.

“Do not--”

“Fuck, no--”

“Fantastic idea!” Roman replied cheerfully, grabbing the die and rolling it again. “That’s a 3!”

Both he and Patton abruptly changed positions, Patton shimmying down to reach Virgil’s knees again, while Roman crawled upwards to wrap his arms around Logan’s torso.

“Pat, no-- nohohoho!” Virgil’s protests fell into helpless laughter and squeals as Patton began scurrying his fingers all over his legs before honing in on that soft skin behind his knee.

“Roman, please do not touch me!” Logan threw his head back as Roman immediately targeted his highest ribs, pinning him with his weight as the normally stoic side gasped and let out a series of embarrassingly adorable noises at the torture.

After exactly one minute, they both pulled back in unison.

“My turn!” Patton snatched up the die and dropped it again. “That’s a 2!”

He pulled himself up to latch his hands around Virgil’s sides, squeezing them haphazardly as he leaned down to nibble around his belly button. Virgil weakly pushed aganst his head, but his high pitched giggles were sapping the strength from his body.

Roman hummed in thought. “I think I’m gonna go back down here!” He grabbed Logan’s ankle, and all it took was him fluttering his fingers against the ball of Logan’s foot before he, too, was a giggly mess.

Around and around and around they went-- a 1 led Patton back to Virgil’s neck while Roman attached himself to Logan’s hips, then a 5 had both sides on their stomachs as Roman scratched all over Logan’s back and Patton spidered his hands down the backs of Virgil’s thighs. At one point, they somehow managed to roll three 4s in a row, leading to what must have been truly unbearble tickle torture for the hypersensitive lees.

After many, many more rounds, they finally decided to have mercy and call the game. Virgil was long past fighting against his laughter, and was trying his hardest to not melt directly into the floor; Logan was panting heavily, his hands weakly balled up at his sides as the last of the adrenaline left his system.

“Well,” Roman said after a few minutes of recuperation, “thoughts on the game?”

“I liked it!” Patton chirped immediately, causing Virgil to snort.

“Of course you did,” he replied. “You’re not one of the ones who almost died.”

“Figuratively died,” Logan corrected. “But... I cannot say I didn’t enjoy it.”

Roman smirked, leaning over him and pinching his cheek. “Of course you enjoyed it! You never even safeworded, because you love it so much--”

Logan swatted his hand away, cheeks pinking anew. “Yes, yes, you bragadocious victor. I assure you, when we play again I will be better prepared.”

“Who got the most points, anyway?” Virgil asked, stopping the playful fight between the others. “Like, who was the winner?”

Of course Patton had to take the chance to pull them all into a hug as he exclaimed how they were all winners, but if they were being honest, not a single one of them could disagree.

[ginnympotter]

Losing All My Cool

A/N: I know this is quite similar to a different one shot of mine, "Reckless, Even," but I just never tire of filling in the blanks from Half-Blood Prince of Harry and Ginny's time together. Just the two of them having fun and getting to be happy together while they still can. Title inspired by Dua Lipa's song "Cool," which I listened to on repeat as inspiration for this :) Summary: Harry and Ginny spend a morning together on the Hogwarts grounds for their first day as a couple after a momentous night of Quidditch and other victories. You can also read it on AO3! 

Hermione covered her mouth, attempting to hide her laugh as Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, determinedly not looking at Ron. “All I’m saying is you got back pretty late last night.”

“And? Gonna deduct some points from him, prefect?” Harry’s heart jumped into his throat at the sound of her voice so suddenly, especially considering Ron was just beginning to pry, causing him to choke on his drink. His face burning, he turned to see Ginny plopping down on the bench, facing one leg on either side of it, facing him. She smiled brightly. “Hey there. Done with breakfast?”

“Hi,“ he replied once he stopped coughing, smiling back. “I-“

Ron interjected. “I could if I wanted to, you know! From the both of you if you don’t-“

“If we don’t what?” she asked fiercely. “Hermione wouldn’t even do that.”

Ron snorted. “Of course she would.”

They all looked at her. “Keep me out of this,” she said warningly, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice, as she flipped a page of her Arithmancy book.

“Exactly,” said Ginny triumphantly to Ron. “So mind your business.”

“This is my-“

“Anyway,” she ignored her brother, turning back to Harry. “Ready?”

He stuffed the last bit of his French toast into his mouth and nodded, still avoiding Ron’s gaze.

“Ready for what?” asked Ron, looking at them suspiciously as they stood up from their seats. “Where are you going?”

Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Didn’t I just tell you to mind your business? Why don’t you continue to bask in the aftermath of the Quidditch Cup win? I know I am.” And with that, she grabbed Harry’s hand and began tugging him away with her.

Hermione could not conceal her laugh again, and Harry waved at both of them, seeing Ron’s ears bright red, feeling some guilt swim in his stomach as he told them, “See you at lunch.”

As he walked with her, she gave him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. As if reading his mind, she said, “I couldn’t help it, he’s too easy. Don’t let him get to you. He’ll be fine.”

“He was just berating me for getting back late last night,” he sighed. “As if he wasn’t doing the same thing with Lavender all last term.”

“I know,” Ginny said as she led them out onto the grounds. “But he didn’t try to kill you in your sleep at least, right?”

“Not that we know of,” he corrected her. “But I was equally worried about someone else, to be honest,” he muttered, thinking of the look on Dean’s face and the broken glass in his hand at the sight of he and Ginny kissing the night before. He stopped walking now that they were out of sight from the Great Hall and turned to her to give her a real greeting. “Good morning,” he grinned.

She chuckled appreciatively. “Morning,” she responded, and reached up to give him a quick kiss on the lips, sending a little shock wave all the way down to his toes. As if pulled magnetically back to her, he leaned in for more, but she shook her head, tugging his hand again and began marching down the hallway. “Exert some patience.”

Harry coughed, trying to will his legs to move along. “I have! Months and months worth of patience,” he told her without thinking.

She looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Months and months?”

His stomach dropped a bit. “Er…perhaps.”

An endearing expression spread across her features. “Noted.”

“So,” he began, eager to shift gears a bit. “We never did get around to discussing the match yesterday, you know.”

“Well, first things first; the team has called for your resignation next year, with me replacing you as both Seeker and Captain, effective immediately.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, after my spectacular catch, it was a unanimous vote,” she teased. “Although I’d much rather keep my position as Chaser…”

They discussed the match in detail throughout the rest of their walk on the grounds, which Ginny was leading. She recounted each of Ron’s impressive saves, sparing him a few compliments (“But don’t tell him I said that,”) before describing his few glaring misses. She had a few choice words about Cho’s seeking abilities, and the attitude she swears she had given her mid-air.

As she steered them toward the Quidditch pitch, and Ginny continued to paint a picture of Demelza and Katie’s goals, purposely excluding Dean from the narrative, Harry suddenly felt a bit uneasy knowing what he was about to go do with her, and that she was possibly leading him to a spot where she had done the same thing with Dean.

Ginny must have noticed that he was lost in thought, as she was giving him a quizzical look. “Are you okay, Harry?”

He shook it off and squeezed her hand, and her returned pressure helped ease his nerves a bit. It was nice, holding her hand. “Just suspicious as to where you’re taking us.”

She smiled mischievously. “Just winging it.”

Harry continued asking her questions about the match, laughing at her impressions of each team member, until they reached the stands. The sky was the clearest blue, with the sun beaming on them as they sat down together. Ginny let go of Harry’s hand to put her hair up, little drops of sweat dripping down the side of her face. Harry’s eyes moved down towards her midriff, which was exposed as her shirt lifted up a bit with her arms as she tied her hair. Ginny gave him a pointed look.

Harry cleared his throat, looking skyward. “It’s, um, a nice day out.”

She laughed as she brought her arms back down, using her hands to grab Harry by the shoulders, pulling herself closer to him, regaining eye contact. “Pathetic,” she told him. “It’s a nice day out? You know you can look at my skin and not avert your eyes when I notice, right?”

Harry suddenly felt very hot. “Sorry. I’m used to forcing myself to look away… You got me losing all my cool over here.”

“You had it pretty under control yesterday,” she said, moving one of her hands to the back of his neck, gently running her nails over his skin.

He chuckled, feeling stupid for being nervous, when he had kissed her mere moments ago, and a heavy portion of the day before. But yesterday felt too good to be true, his literal dreams coming to fruition. She moved her other hand to meet its companion behind his neck, pulling his face closer to hers as he said, “That was the exact opposite of having things under control. You think me snogging you in the common room, in front of Ron, no less, was my plan to ask you out?”

“Well, no, but I liked it,” she told him. “I mean, if you hadn’t done it, I probably would’ve. Like if you don’t lean in and snog me right now, I’ll just have to do it myself-“

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He crushed his lips against hers, with so much force that they almost lost their balance. It was a good thing Harry had quick reflexes, as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring them back up. She was laughing against his mouth. “Merlin, Harry.”

He laughed, too. “Told you,” he said quietly against her lips before reconnecting them, this time steady and purposeful.

And just like the day before, Harry felt as though he was in one of his dreams. However, it was far better, as he could actually feel the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her hair. He moved his hands, one to run through the top of her hair, the other to cup her face, holding her jaw as he deepened the kiss, much to her welcoming.

Ginny returned every move in favor. He knew she was being generous, allowing him to be the one to lead, but eventually, she must have grown impatient, as she tore her mouth away briefly and climbed onto his lap, straddling him, each knee upon the bench on either side of him. Harry suddenly felt both intimidated and excited; he loved how Ginny easily took command, but wanted to impress her, too.

The new seating arrangement helped tremendously in a lot of ways, but mainly it brought their faces level with one another, as their height difference had been causing each of them to crane their necks a bit much. Ginny threw Harry a wicked smile before reattaching her lips to his, this time holding his face in her hands and took control of the kiss, slowing it down, teasing, giving in for a brief moment, then teasing again. Harry groaned in a mixture of frustration and arousal from her method, but she seemed to take this as further encouragement. These were not the eager, heavy snogs of the day before, but he really couldn’t complain much.

Just as Harry was getting acclimated to this, she moved her hands to his shoulders and her lips left his and began to travel. First to his cheek, then over to his ear, where she gently blew hot air, and Harry suddenly felt a bit too aware that Ginny was straddling his lap. This awareness only heightened as she moved to his neck, using her lips and teeth and tongue to do things to him that made him feel as if his senses were going to leave him entirely. He grasped at Ginny’s sides to steady himself, and after a few moments realized that her hands were working on the buttons of his shirt, and had already successfully undone two of them.

“Ginny,” he tried to say strongly, but it came out a more like a whimper. All she did was move her mouth back to his as she continued to work on the third button.

She had opened it when he willed himself to pull away from her. “Ginny,” he tried again, grabbing her hands with one of his own.

She looked at him, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he told her, trying to smile but not sure if the muscles in his face were quite capable. “I just…I just realized how much more experienced you are than me at all this,” he said truthfully.

Ginny seemed momentarily taken aback by such honesty, but then grinned compassionately. “That’s okay. You’re a fast learner.”

Harry chuckled, raising one of her hands to kiss. “You’re far too kind.”

“I mean, would I like it if you showed a little less restraint? Sure, but take your time.”

He looked at her in wonderment, feeling a warmth spread throughout him as he soaked in her knowing smirk. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman. And like I said, you know what you’re doing more than I do-“

“You know what you’re doing,” she assured him sweetly. “Trust me, you do. But you don’t have to be a gentleman. We don’t have to do anything either of us doesn’t want to, of course. However, I give you full consent to touch me wherever, take off whatever-“

Harry choked. “Ginny, we’re out in the open! I’m not going to…to...disrobe you when anyone can walk by!” he whispered.

Ginny laughed heartily. “Oh, so that’s why you got all tense when I started to open your shirt. You’ve got nothing to worry about, unless there’s a practice scheduled, no one comes out to the pitch before lunch.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual but obviously failing to hide his suspicions by Ginny’s roll of her eyes.

“Because I used to come at this time every Sunday to practice flying before I tried out for the team last year,” she explained, scoffing at the relief on Harry’s face. “I wasn’t going to take it off necessarily. Just thought I’d get a nice peek, if that’s okay.”

He nodded a bit too fast, making him dizzier than he already was. “It’s definitely okay-“

“And you can do the same, you know,” she told him as she released her hands from Harry’s grasp to continue her work on his buttons.        

“Much appreciated,” he laughed, closing his eyes as she kissed him lazily. Once she undid the last button, Harry felt jolted as her small, soft hands began to move gently over his bare chest, sending chills up his spine. She stopped kissing him, and he opened his eyes to see her surveying him. After a few moments, she looked back up at him. “Not bad, Captain,” she said, smothering Harry’s chuckle with her mouth.

Harry eventually allowed himself to follow Ginny’s lead of leaving inhibitions behind; he was finally living out months’ worth of fantasies, and why should he deprive himself of such a glorious reality? He let his hands wander down her back, settling gently at first, then, with Ginny’s groans of approval and encouragement, more firmly under her bum. He tried a bit of the neck kissing himself, and felt rather proud of himself by Ginny’s breathy reaction.

Some time passed, and they finally began to slow down a bit. Neither Harry nor Ginny wanted to pull away, anytime one of them attempted, the other pulling them back in for a bit more convincing. It was not until they both released the other, breathing heavily, foreheads against each other that they resigned to a break of some sort. Both giggly and sweaty from the sun beating down on them, Ginny reluctantly removed herself from Harry, sitting beside him instead. But Harry did not want to lose contact just yet, so he swiveled her to face him, and grabbed her legs so that they were draped over his lap. Rubbing her thigh with one hand, Harry used the other to hook a finger under her chin and kiss her shortly one more time.

“Hmm,” she sighed as they parted. “Hello.”

Harry smiled widely. “Hi.”

Ginny lied flat across the bench, soaking in the sun. “That was fun,” she told him. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Harry snorted at her, leaning back a bit and resting his head on the edge of the bench above them. He exhaled deeply, feeling a wave from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. It was strange, feeling this content and relaxed. It almost felt as if he were a different person, living a regular life. He continued to run his hand gently along her thigh, bringing the other one behind his head for some cushioning and closed his eyes, enjoying the light breeze.

After a few peaceful minutes, he felt Ginny lift herself up. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” he answered, still trying to cool himself down, thinking of innocuous objects.

“Wanna go for a fly around the pitch?” He opened his eyes to see her taking her wand out of her belt loop. “I can summon our brooms.”

“They’re in Gryffindor tower, Gin-“

“Or you can do it yourself if you’d like, like you did in the Triwizard Tournament. Might not impress me as much this time, though…”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You really are up to flying right now? Don’t you need a bit of a break?”

“Too much excitement for you, ay?” she suggested, giving him a quick beneath-the-belt glance, where said excitement was still protruding a bit. “I forgot that men have a longer refractory period than women do.”

Harry sat up, choking at her words. “We didn’t even do anything-“

“I’ll just do it myself,” she took her legs off of Harry’s and stood up, twirled her wand through her fingers. “No pun intended,” she winked. She then pointed in the general direction of the tower and declared, “Accio Firebolt and Cleansweep!”

“You,” started Harry, as he got to his feet and put his hands on her hips, “think you’re a real laugh, don’t you?”

“And I am,” she smiled, leaning in and placing a light peck on his lips. She then began to help Harry re-button his shirt. “You can always hang out for a bit and watch me fly till you feel ready, although, that may just excite you more-“

“You raise a valid point,” he admitted as he finished the last two buttons himself. “Let’s fly. We can have a race.”

“A challenge?” she pondered. They could hear their brooms zooming towards them. They turned, and Harry saw his Firebolt growing nearer and nearer. He reached out his hand, ready to grasp it.

But Ginny was too fast for him, catching his broom in one hand, hers in the other. She examined each of them for a moment, and then thrust her Cleansweep against Harry’s chest. He caught it, looking at her curiously.

“You’d outfly anyone with this broom,” she stated, holding Harry’s Firebolt in both hands now. “Give me a try on it, and then we’ll see if it’s the broom or the player. Deal?”

Harry laughed as Ginny didn’t even wait for his agreement, mounting the Firebolt and rising into the air. “You’re on.”

They both beat each other on the Firebolt, but Ginny came in a much closer second on the Cleansweep than Harry had. Once back on their own brooms, they played multiple rounds of one on one, and although Harry put up a good fight, Ginny wiped the floor with him; and she was right, it did excite him in one too many ways.

About an hour and a half later, they called it for the day. Harry had an idea to make a pit stop by the lake and put their feet in to cool off. They sat down and took their shoes and socks off, dipping their toes in. “Shit, that’s cold,” Harry exclaimed.

Ginny scoffed at him, leaning back on her hands as she kicked her feet in the water towards Harry, splashing him a bit. “Don’t be such a baby. Didn’t you swim in this thing for like, what, an hour and a half for the second task?”

“Yeah, but I had gills, so the water felt warm,” he explained, submerging his feet in more.

“I was so worried about you,” she confessed unabashedly. “You were in there for so long.”

Harry put a hand on hers and squeezed. “Made it out alive, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you always?” she quipped back. “I was so jealous of Ron,” she laughed, and at Harry’s raised eyebrow she went on, “because he was the thing you’d miss the most.”

“Yeah, well…”

“It was sweet, though. Sweeter than Krum’s being Hermione, anyway.”

“I mean, what else were they going to use…his fur coat?” he mused.

Ginny giggled, shaking her head. “If it were Ron, who’d you reckon they’d take: you or Hermione?”

“Not sure,” Harry shrugged, mulling it over. “A couple of months ago I would have said me, but you know, they’ve been getting on a little too well these days. It’s suspicious.”

“I don’t know what they’re waiting for,” Ginny told him. “Honestly, they’re obsessed with each other. I can’t believe that you and I got together before they did.”

“Me too-“ and then it dawned on him. He rounded on Ginny. “Wait a second. You’re kind of to blame for that one!”

Ginny look appalled. “Excuse me?”

“They were going to, last term! Hermione asked Ron to go with her to Slughorn’s Christmas party, and they were going to-“

“They were?” she asked in amazement. “I didn’t know that!”

“Yes, until…well, until you told him that she had snogged Krum.”

Ginny was bewildered. “I’m sorry, I don’t get the connection.”

“It just drove Ron mad,” he explained. “It was like a delayed betrayal-“

“But how did he not know that already?” Ginny questioned, outraged. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Well, I thought so,” muttered Harry. “But Ron’s a prat.”

“You said it, not me.”

Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, then he was cross with her over nothing, and Lavender was not being subtle anymore, and just everything accumulated into him snogging her to get back at Hermione or something, but also…”

“To prove me wrong?” she finished for him. “His picture of Auntie Muriel too soggy at that point?”

Harry snorted. “I guess.”

“It’s not my fault he couldn’t handle the truth,” shrugged Ginny. “In any event, I think I did them both a favor.”

“How do you work that one out?”

“Well, now Hermione won’t have to teach him how to snog, hopefully, if either of them ever grows the bullocks to make a move. She teaches him enough as it is.”

“Alright, so maybe you did do them a favor,” Harry said. “But what about me? I was the one who had to deal with the repercussions!”

Ginny grabbed him by the chin and brought his face close to hers. “I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

He smiled as she dragged his lips to hers, and just as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Ginny tore herself away and kicked the water toward him, splashing Harry in the face.

Ginny laughed as he choked on the water. She hit him on the back compassionately. “You good?”

Once Harry was able to breathe again, he turned on her. “You’re going to pay for-“

But she was ready. She pushed him into the lake. He could hear her laughing from under the water, but he did not dare emerge. He stayed under, close to the edge, until he heard a tiniest note of concern in her voice as she called out, “Harry?”

That’s when he popped up, grabbed her by her calves, and threw her in too.

The look in her eye was deadly when she stood up, letting her hair loose. “Oops?” he said, horribly feigning innocence.

But Harry couldn’t help but notice the way her wet shirt clung to her…and Ginny smartly took this as her opportunity to attack. She jumped on top of him, initiating a wrestling match, which eventually turned into a different and more enjoyable kind of wrestling match, until Ginny had the innovative idea to ride their brooms over the lake while skimming the water, engaging in a water-tag match.

It wasn’t until the Giant Squid unsuspectingly stretched out, accidentally whacking them with one of its tentacles, that their rumbling stomachs called attention to the time and they decided to call it.

It was still rather hot out, so as the sun warmed them up on their walk back up to the castle, they barely noticed how much water was dripping from them as they reentered the Great Hall, Harry’s arm around Ginny’s shoulders, hers around his waist, their free hands holding their brooms.

“Why,” Ron started as soon as they reached the table, where Ron and Hermione were filling up their plates for lunch, “the hell are you two sopping wet?”

Harry removed his arm from Ginny, took out his wand and muttered drying spell towards Ginny, then on himself. “Had an incident with the Giant Squid. No biggie,” answered Ginny as she sat down. “I’m starved. Pass the roast beef, Ron?”

Steaming, Ron passed her the platter. Harry sat down next to her and reluctantly looked at him. He could see Hermione from the corner of his eye shaking her head while looking at Ron, clearly exhausted by his behavior in the hours they’d been separated from them. “Just…just clarify something for me. Are you two dating? Or just…you know…”

The sentence hung in the air until Ginny chimed in. “Snogging in bodies of water? Can’t the two simultaneously be true?”

Feeling mortified, Harry reached for the water jug to fill up his cup as Ron questioned, “So you are dating, then?”

Harry mustered up the courage to look him in the eye and answered. “Yes. I, er, asked her to be my girlfriend last night.”

“And I said I’d think about it,” Ginny joked as she put a hand on his thigh beneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Hermione interjected, smiling widely. “And so does Ron, even if he won’t admit it.”

There was a long pause, an elongated sigh, and then, “Well, I suppose,” Ron conceded. “You’re better than Dean or that git Michael Corner, anyway.”

“Appreciated, mate,” Harry laughed, the monster in his chest purring with satisfaction as he filled up his plate, Ginny beside him.

[avmisworld]

BTS when you initiate skinship:

Seokjin:

Jin is cooking in the kitchen, stirring chopped onion on the frying pan and humming to himself quietly when you come behind him, wrapping your hands around his torso and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Oh, you surprised me!", your boyfriend scolds you half-heartedly, jumping a bit in place from the surprise, and trying to hide his slight confusion that you were the one initiating the skinship.

Usually, you were the shyer one, hiding your face behind your hands whenever Seokjin compliments you or being too embarrassed to approach him when you want a kiss. But now you were high on the smell of the delicious food, and also felt slightly touch deprived since Jin was spending more and more time at the practice room, getting ready for his group's upcoming comeback.

"Sorry", you mumble carelessly, making your boyfriend roll his eyes at the indifferent tone you were using, but he can't help but feel immense happiness when you kiss his cheek again, your soft lips pressing to his smooth skin and your hands tightening around him slightly.

Not wanting to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Jin turns around in your hold, not caring less about the now-golden onions in the pan, and wraps his own arms around your slim waist, nuzzling his nose in your neck gently, as you sway from side-to-side in comfortable silence.

“You smell good", he mumbles after a while, making you laugh, and you thread your fingers through his thick brown hair, feeling the shiny strands slip between your fingertips, before you respond teasingly: "So does the food, which will probably burn if you keep hugging me."

Yoongi:

You furrow your eyebrows when you see Yoongi making a face of discomfort, rubbing his shoulder once again as he shifts slightly on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

Your boyfriend's been looking bothered since you started your movie night nearly a quarter of an hour ago, and you can see he is trying to hide it from you as well, not saying anything or even moving too much so he won't attract your attention.

"Are you okay?", you ask after a moment of hesitation, picking the remote control to stop the movie and turning your body to face Yoongi, who's looking away from you, like he always does when he doesn't want to tell you the truth. "You look like you're in pain."

"I'm fine", your boyfriend runs a hand through his black hair nervously, trying unsuccessfully to hide another pained wince when he moves his hand too high. "My shoulder is just acting up again."

You curse yourself silently for not considering this option before. Yoongi recently had surgery on his right shoulder, and even though he already went through rehabilitation, his shoulder still hurt sometimes. It was completely normal, and it was only a matter of time until those feelings will disappear as well, but apparently it was bothering him more than he let on.

You bite your lip, staring at your boyfriend for a moment before you crawl towards him on the couch, smiling slightly at his confused face, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a cute frown as his dark eyes follow you curiously.

"What are you do-", you cut your boyfriend off before he can finish the question, slipping into the space between Yoongi's lean body and the grey couch, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the t-shirt clad skin before mumbling: "Relax."

You start to massage your lover's shoulders carefully, making sure not to press too hard on the sore muscles, letting your hands ease away the tension and pain held in between Yoongi's shoulder blades, your fingers flitting down to rub his back as well.

Your boyfriend doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to, his body doing the talking for him as he relaxes in your hold, and when you peek at the side of his face, you can see the bright gummy smile you've learned to love, his cheeks blushing at the affectionate treatment he was getting.

Hoseok:

You snuggle under your furry white blanket even more, wiggling your toes as you try to get the cold out of your bones, your warm pyjamas and the humming air conditioner not doing much to warm you up, your body seeking a different kind of heat.

You sigh in relief when Hoseok finally exits the bathroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the back of his hand, his soft brown falling carelessly over his forehead and wearing long blue silk pyjamas, the shiny fabric hugging his tall, lean frame perfectly.

"I'm so tired", he yawns, making his way towards his side of the bed, and you don't even wait for him to sit before you're pulling him down, earning a surprised yelp from your boyfriend at the unexpected action, his hands tightening around you automatically.

You sigh contentedly, burying your head in Hoseok's neck, the smell of his aftershave sending a warm shiver down your spine as you finally feel comfortable, the cold no longer bothering you, and you wrap your arms around the other's torso, throwing your leg over his body as you cling to his side shamelessly.

Your boyfriend's frozen body relaxes, and he lets out a happy laugh, pleased by your unexpected affection attack, used to him being the one to initiate skinship most of the time, and he wraps his own arms around you tightly, before turning his head towards you, sending you a bright smile.

"How are you so cute?!", he says excitedly, leaning down to leave kisses all over your face before you can even answer, his lips tickling your nose, eyelids, cheeks, repeatedly until you're squirming against him, your little giggles making his heart expand even more. "I love you so much."

Namjoon:

Sometimes you feel tired, like the world was physically weighing you down, even everyday life being too much to handle. Today was one of these days where you were just exhausted, more emotionally than anything else.

You let your head fall back on the sofa, stifling another yawn with the back of your hand as you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, your eyes half closed, only opening here and there when a video of your boyfriend shows up in your timeline, making the softest of smiles creep up on your face.

Namjoon wasn't supposed to come home today, or at least you assume he won't, considering he's the leader of the biggest band in the world, who is having a comeback in less than a week. Still, a selfish part of you hopes he might show up, the need to hug him tightly and relieve the empty feeling inside you bigger than ever.

It's already late, and you get up from the couch, making way to your bedroom to wash up and get ready for bed, when there's a gentle knock on the door, your breath stopping before you even reach the handle, your hand twisting it on your own accord.

And there he is. With his caramel hair slicked back professionally, wearing blue jeans that accentuate his long legs and a beige button up, two dimples showing as he smiles at you softly, his brown eyes holding the entire universe.

You feel so happy you can't even breath, not even letting Namjoon enter the house before you're walking to him quickly, wrapping your arms around his broad torso and placing your ear on his chest, sighing in relief when you feel the steady beating of his heart in your ear.

Your boyfriend lets out an 'oof' when your body slams into his, but it only takes a second for his initial shock to wear off, and his arms come to wrap around your waist, warm and comforting, like a rainbow after a day of endless rain.

"Did you miss me?", he asks, his voice slightly teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, rubbing your back soothingly, but when you raise your head from its place on your shoulder, you can clearly see the soft pink blush tinting his cheeks, a wide smile making his eyes disappear into tiny crescents.

"So much", you admit, your own blush covering your cheeks when Namjoon's eyes widen momentarily at your unexpectedly straightforward answer, before his arms hold you even closer, making you feel more protected and loved than ever. "I missed you, too, love."

Jimin:

You're drinking your daily cup of coffee, the kitchen filled with the rich, thick smell of coffee beans, reading the newspaper you grabbed on your way back from work yesterday, when Jimin stumbles into the room, eyes still half-closed and steps unsteady.

Your boyfriend looks cutest in the mornings, and you feel your heart swell at the sight of Jimin, blonde hair uncombed and falling over his eyes messily, his face swollen from sleep, wearing an oversized gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, the sleeves of his shirt going past his hands and swallowing his lean frame completely.

"Goo' Morning", Jimin mutters, not noticing your heart eyes as he slips into the seat next to you, muffling another yawn in the palm of his hand, before placing his head on the cold surface of the table, clearly trying to wake up.

"Good morning, babe.", you mumble back, voice laced with fondness, and reach your hand out to pet Jimin's hair, your fingers brushing his scalp gently as you admire the softness of the golden strands, even after being dyed and colored countless times.

Your boyfriend tenses slightly under your searching hands, and you can hear his breath get stuck in his throat before he relaxes, letting his head fall to the side, revealing twinkling eyes and a content smile, still slightly sleepy.

"You're so adorable, Jiminie~~", you coo, managing to surprise yourself as well with how affectionate you're being, your usual shyness gone and replaced by a protective feeling at the softness of your boyfriend's mere presence.

Your boyfriend's cheeks burn bright red immediately, and he turns his head back down to the table, trying to hide his tomato face from you, but you can still see the sides of his cheeks, raised from how wide he is smiling, so he grabs the newspaper you were reading from its place on the table, using it to cover his face as you laugh, the affection attack quickly turning into a tug a war match as you try to reveal your giggling boyfriend's face, while he tries to keep it covered. "Yah, I was in the middle of reading that!"

Taehyung:

There's a gentle breeze streaming through the window, ruffling your dark hair gently and making you close your eyes, a sigh of content leaving your lips.

"The weather is amazing, isn't it?", your boyfriend asks, his deep voice penetrating the calming silence, and you hum in agreement before opening your eyes to look at Taehyung's figure in the driver's seat, his own satisfied smile gracing his full lips.

The two of you are on your way to Daegu, to visit Taehyung's family. It's not the first time you've done this, yet it still makes your heart flutter just how relaxed and happy Taehyung looks whenever he's on his way to meet his beloved parents and siblings, not a trace of anxiety or stress tainting his delicate features.

You let your eyes flit over Taehyung's profile, admiring the way his auburn hair brushes his forehead gently, fluttering slightly because of the wind coming through the window, the sharp slide of his jawline and the soft shape of his nose. It all just screams perfection, and you can't help but feel amazed by the fact that this man is yours.

Overwhelmed by your feelings for the other, you reach for Taehyung's hand, the one that wasn't placed on the steering wheel, and interlace your fingers, admiring the way his golden skin blends perfectly with your creamy one, before pressing a sweet kiss to the back of his hand.

Taehyung's eyes move to look at you for a second when you place your interlocked hands in your lap, your thumb tracing hearts all over your lover's hand, and you can see the big smile tracing his lips and pulling it into the familiar boxy shape you love so much, delight and surprise shining in his brown orbs.

Skinship was always a big part of you and Taehyung's relationship, he loved clinging to you, kissing you and initiating cuddles and hugs, and he loved it even more when you were the one to act all sticky and romantic, even if you were sometimes too shy to do so.

"You're so cute when you're affectionate.", Taehyung says randomly after a few more minutes of driving in peaceful silence, the only sound being the soft country music playing on the radio, and you roll your eyes with a smile, already expecting this sort of comment to come.

Jungkook:

You watch with awe as Jungkook jumps off the treadmill, his black hair stuck to his forehead like glue, sweat dripping down his forehead and jawline, the liquid beads shining under the florencent lights.

"You're seriously going to kill yourself one day", you say disapprovingly, crossing your arms over your chest when Jungkook comes towards you, grabbing the water bottle and the white towel behind you with a breathless laugh.

"I'm fine", your boyfriend says dismissively, ignoring your glare and downing down gulps of ice cold water, his adam's apple bobbing as the the bottle empties itself quickly, the plastic crinkling into his veiny hand.

You sigh when Jungkook gets down on the floor, starting his three minute timer before balancing himself on his forearms, ragged breaths leaving his mouth as his white tank top clings to his sweaty abs, his biceps bulging and the muscles of his back prominent.

You smirk when an idea enter your mind, and you get down on the floor, lying in front of your boyfriend so your head is right under his, giggling when a look of confusion crosses Jungkook's face, his dark eyebrows furrowing from surprise and exertion. "You should learn how to work out under distractions."

"Y/N, what-", you cut your boyfriend off with a kiss, tilting your head up to peck his lips gently, ignoring the sweat clinging to his skin before you press your lips together again, longer this time.

It's adorable how quickly Jungkook gets shy, a small smile setting on his lips when you detach from him, despite him trying to look somewhat annoyed at you for purposely interrupting him. "What are you doing? I'm so gross right now, ew."

"So maybe you should stop working out and take a shower, so we can kiss properly", you suggest with a shrug, leaning up to press another teasing kiss to your boyfriend's blushing cheeks, ignoring his grunts of protest when your lips tickle their way down to his chin and then up to his forehead.

"You're unbelievable", Jungkook manages to sigh, the words coming out of his mouth in breathless pants, and you laugh, adoring the way Jungkook's doe eyes automatically grows softer at the sound of your tinkling giggle. "I know, and you love me for it."

[halequeenjas]

Hell in a Gift Basket || Jasmine & Michael

TIMING: Yesterday afternoon PARTIES: @coldbloodedkaehler & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine goes by to see Michael with a bit of a welcome to town gift. She finds out a little more than she bargained for from the ghosts in the house.  CONTENT: Food poisoning mention

Despite the absolute insanity that was the town of White Crest, Jasmine was able to make a respectable living in the field of real estate. Even with the sky high levels of property damage in the town, she found she could still find clients willing to buy and sell in the area. A large part of her success was due to her own work ethic and determination. She’d always had good connections in town and she worked hard to nurture them and build new ones. Part of that entailed checking in on her customers. She had a whole system with birthday cards set up, but she was always sure to check in on a client soon after they moved into their new home, typically with a nice, branded house warming gift. After all, today’s condo sale or rental could be tomorrow’s house sale. It was why today she found herself checking in with one of her rental customers. Michael had recently moved to town with his family and she had the perfect little gift basket set up for them. There were some wine glasses with her logo on them, a bottle of red and a bottle of white, a nice wooden cutting board with her logo, and a lego set for the little one. She’d let him know she was stopping by so she was sure her knock on the door didn’t come as a surprise. When he opened, she smiled widely and greeted, “Hello, Mr. Kaehler!” She was a bright and cheery as ever as she entered the apartment. She took a glance around and commented, “I love what you’ve done with the place. How’s it been treating you so far?”

A semi-impromptu visit from his realtor had found its way to the bottom of Michael’s list of things to look forward to for the day, and he’d pressed the top of his mobile to his forehead when he’d read Jasmine Hale’s message and sighed deeply into it. A gaggle of forever bitching ghosts hanging around near 24/7 was enough intolerable company, but when up against the vultures in human skin who proudly called themselves members of the National Association of Realtors? He was sorely inclined to pick the dead any day of the week.

Heading down the hall to the front door as he heard the door rap, he ignored Ellie and Chase perched in his living room armchairs and watching him keenly, drowned rat and slit throat respectively arousing not an ounce of alarm. Pulling open the front door, he smiled as he stepped aside to let the woman in, letting it widen as he took in her compliment. “A damn sight better than our old place back in Sedona, I’ll tell you that much,” he replied with half a laugh, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the mere falsified memory of it. The old place back in Sedona had done just fine by them all, but lying came as fluidly to Michael as mercury. His eyes flicked down to the basket, bundled in the realtor’s arms. Ms. Hale could feel pleased with herself in return for whatever garbage in the guise of a gift she was about to set upon him.

“In any case,” he quickly added, “come in, make yourself comfortable.” He smiled, gesturing for her to head into the living room. “The wife’s at work and the girls are back at school, so you pulled the short straw and just ended up with me.” Meanwhile, Ellie was craning her neck from the couch to get a gander at the gift basket. “What’d she get him?” he could hear her ask Chase. Death couldn’t get a good snoop down, and Michael didn’t even blink to acknowledge he’d heard her. Continuing on his way to the kitchen, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I was just about to make myself a coffee. Should I get another mug out?”

One thing Jasmine learned over her career was just how much better homes looked once they were filled. Even if the decor wasn’t quite up to her tastes, it had a home-y feel to it. She could easily picture Michael’s girls running around or his wife enjoying a glass of wine on the couch. With an easy smile, she responded, “That’s great to hear. Glad it’s working so well for you and your family. I do pride myself on finding good fits for my clients.” And ridding them of any ghosts which was why the slight chill going through her threw her off. No, it couldn’t be. She was just still on edge after Constance’s exorcism. That was all. 

When he mentioned it was just them, Jasmine nodded along and said, “Well, there’s some stuff in here they may enjoy, too.” Then she heard voices and it sounded like they were asking about what she’d brought. Michael had just said they were alone so that couldn’t be right, but in this town, she knew better than to doubt her sense at this point. “Oh, funny. I thought I heard someone. Must be the TV or something,” she blurted out quickly as she craned her neck to get a good look around. It dawned on her she didn’t want to look like an insane person in front of her client, so she returned her focus back to him though she still had that nagging feeling they weren’t alone. Maybe she could sneakily place some wards up before she left. “A mug would be great,” she added, “It’s definitely a day that calls for lots of coffee.” She followed him in toward the living area and her eyes landed on the ghosts. Shit. She needed a way to get Michael away so she could talk to the ghosts she’d heard only a moment ago. “So have you met the neighbors yet? And have you been leaving the faucets dripping with the freeze warning?” Not smooth and very unrelated, but she needed a moment alone here. 

 There was a sudden… shift in the woman, and Michael didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t stop the slightly perplexed look that crept on him as Jasmine mentioned hearing someone, and for a moment, his heart stumbled out of step before he immediately quashed the feeling. The tell-tale heart would fall deaf on his ears. “Must be,” he agreed, the pause before his answer taking perhaps a little too long. Of course it was the TV – what other options were there?

Entering into the living room with the realtor close behind, it was just as expected. There were no blood curdling screams – no quick dashes to the front door that would necessitate a violent, unplanned end on an otherwise unremarkable afternoon in Maine. All was as it should be – the two clearly dead ghosts were visible to no one but the man who had snuffed out their lives like a match. He shook his head at Jasmine’s question about the neighbours, shrugging. “Not yet,” he replied. “Work’s just been throwing me some weird hours to begin with. We’ll invite them all over sometime, make sure they know they can rely on us, that kind of thing. Not that we’re planning on renting forever,” he added with a smile. He paused for a second as he thought about the taps – faucets – as his wife and everyone else in this country called them. It was a good point. “You know what?” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together. “I’d better go take care of that now before I forget. Been awhile since I lived any place where you have to look out for these things. I’ll be back with the coffees in a minute.” Already on his way out, he glanced behind him before disappearing from view. “You take milk and sugar?”

Meanwhile, on the couch, two pairs of eyes watched the realtor curiously. It was Chase who spoke first, the flaps of his severed neck jiggling as he spoke. “Hey El? Did you just see this lady just look at us? Almost as if we’re actually… here.”

 There was a small sense of relief that washed over Jasmine as he agreed he did in fact need to go get those faucets going to avoid frozen pipes. The ghosts in the room needed to be addressed and she needed to do that without someone else present in the room who would just think she was some sort of psycho talking to herself. “Good call,” she said as nonchalantly as she could given the circumstances, “Black coffee is fine for me.” Healthier than typical cream and sugar as well as being much less complex than her normal coffee shop order. Once he was out of the room, her eyes fell back on the ghosts who were still just chatting it up. 

“That’s because I can see you,” Jasmine responded to the ghosts in the room, “Which means you must be El… and you are?” She looked at the other ghost as she tried to keep this formidable. Working with ghosts required a fair amount of understanding as things worked out much easier for her if they moved on without her intervention. Still, it was odd they were just hanging around here. They definitely weren’t at the property before so she had to wonder if they were connected to Michael somehow. She placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Do you care to tell me why you’re here? I checked this place up and down for ghosts before I even showed the property.” 

 If ghosts could be struck by lightning, then it was as if the pair had just been zapped stone cold the second the realtor revealed she could see them. Twin expressions gaped at the woman, instantly scrubbed of any previous candour. Ellie’s hand tucked around Chase’s beside her and she squeezed it tightly whilst the other flew to her empty chest. It was the teen boy who actually had the wherewithal to speak, and fury stained his features as he quickly rose to his feet, jerking Ellie up beside him. “Because that guy killed us!” he blurted as he gained the wherewithal to speak. “He’s a fucking serial killer!” Wide-eyed, he quickly realised he was speaking much too loud and he sunk down back onto the couch with Ellie in tow. “Chase,” he replied to the woman’s first question, voice still crackling with shock. “My name is Chase Dunlap. This,” he gestured towards Ellie beside him, “– she’s Elizabeth Matarazzo.” The female ghost beside him gave a light shake of her head as she leant forward. “Ellie,” she mouthed, nodding and scrunching her face in a small giddy smile as she squeezed Chase’s hand again. He ignored her. “How the fuck can you see us too? Are… you like him?” he enquired, speaking slowly. “You kill people? Are you a murderer?”

No sooner than the question was out of his mouth did footsteps return to the kitchen just on the other side of the living room. The clatter of mugs filled the air and no more than a few moments later Michael came back through the door, two steaming cups of joe in hand. Setting Jasmine’s down on the coffee table, he nursed his own. “Faucets are now safely dripping away,” he informed the realtor with a smile. “Oh, and thanks for the gift basket, by the way,” he added as he took a sip of his coffee. “You bring out the welcome wagon for all your clients? Or just the ones from out of town?”

Almost immediately, Jasmine wanted to be anywhere else but this living room. How the hell had she ended up alone with an actual serial killer? He’d seemed so normal and not at all like the random bone lady on the internet. Then again, this was White Crest and things were hardly ever what they appeared to be at a surface level. It didn’t change the fact her heart was pounding against her chest. She took a few steps back from the ghosts and quietly muttered, “He what?!” Her palms felt entirely too sweaty and she found she couldn’t stand still. She needed an exit strategy here. She still had her bag on her and the iron rods could come in handy, but she’d come back to that. If she could get more information from these two, maybe she could actually do something to help. “Chase and Ellie. I’d say good to meet you but…” She trailed off before the next question hit her. Her face twisted up with disgust as they implied she was a murderer. “Excuse you,” she retorted with the offense evident in her voice, “I’m an exorcist not a murderer. I save people, not kill them. The only red shoe bottoms I want are Louboutins thank you very much.” 

With the revelation that her client was a serial killer, she’d been too focused on the ghosts. Michael re-entering the room startled her and she jumped a bit on her feet. “Michael, hey!” Smooth, Jas, smooth. She did her best to recover and put some distance between herself and the ghosts. The smile on her face was almost convincing. “Good, frozen pipes can be quite the expensive and lengthy repair,” she explained. At the mention of the gift basket, she answered, “Oh, I usually like to do something for new clients around the holidays. Especially if they’re new to town. Plus, I’m a sucker for kids so you know, I had to give them a little something.” She glanced back at the ghosts before mentally cursing herself. “I totally don’t mean to interrupt your day though, so I’d be happy to take my coffee to go!” 

 Michael’s hand instinctively tightened around the steaming mug of coffee as he watched Jasmine, listening to her carefully. There it was again. That shift. He was practiced enough to detect when a smile wasn’t quite a smile, and the realtor’s was almost Stepford-esque. But why? His gaze slipped to Ellie and Chase, noticing for the first time that they were staring at him like they’d seen a ghost, but when Jasmine prattled on about taking the coffee to go his attention instantly went back to her. Something, he felt, was off here. Wrong, and he was someone who preferred things to be right at all times. “It’s no interruption,” he said evenly, shaking his head. “Besides, don’t have any take-out cups handy. Trying to cut down on waste, you know. Save the trees and all.” Another sip of coffee. Another swallow. “Though if you’ve got somewhere to be, then…”

As he trailed off, it wasn’t Jasmine who had the first opportunity to talk. Silent though the ghosts had been since Michael came back into the room, it was Ellie who chose now to speak up, her face knitted in puzzlement as if she’d just spent the last minute thinkingly deeply about something. “By exorcist…” she began, “doesn’t that mean you kill ghosts? Doesn’t that make you a murderer, too?”

 This was hardly her best performance. Then again, this wasn’t karaoke. Jasmine had never been good at lying and typically saw little point in it. Seeing as she was with a serial killer who had no idea she’d just found out as much, it was better for her to keep a level head here unless she wanted to become his next victim. “Oh good,” she said with some faux cheer, “I know a lot of times people just offer coffee when people stop by for the sake of being polite.” She laughed along with the mention of reducing waste. While she had no qualms with recycling, this was definitely a moment where she was hating the whole green movement. “Being environmentally conscious is always a good thing. I always do my best to recycle myself and you know, not litter. I love the beaches far too much to leave them littered with my leftover hard seltzers.” She took a sip of her coffee and tried to shake the thought it could be deadly coffee. “Not at all,” she responded letting some of the apprehension slip away. “How are you liking it here so far?” 

All was going back to how it should be until Ellie was speaking again. Without realizing it, she shot Ellie a dirty look with an eye roll, “I don’t kill ghosts that’s not how that-” Shit. That was decidedly the absolute worst thing she could have done in that moment. She turned back to Michael with an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me there. I think I must be a little under the weather. I really should go. Just in case I’m coming down with something contagious.” 

 Everything Jasmine was saying was going through one ear and out the other – not even because of the situation at hand, but because Michael really couldn’t care less. He feigned interest, nodding as he pretended to listen to her. Really he was searching her face, trying to pick up on any more cues that she was ill at ease, and when she indicated she had no issue with staying it began to seem as if it were all in his head. Before he got the chance to reply with his thoughts on the town, Ellie interrupted. And for once, it didn’t seem like she was talking to him or even Chase. It was like she was talking to Jasmine.

Michael tensed and then there the realtor was, shooting Ellie a look and responding like she was any old person in the room with them. He no longer felt the heat of the mug, couldn’t taste the bitter aftertaste of the coffee on his tongue. His heart quickened in his chest and his eyes didn’t even need to dart to the lamp on the lounge-side table beside him. He saw it clear as day in his head, saw himself grabbing it, pummelling her face in, tightening the chord around her neck as her feet kicked uselessly into the carpet. If she really could hear the dead, what had they told her? How the fuck was it even possible? But then, maybe he was getting too ahead of himself. Needed some time to think about how far ahead of himself he was getting, at least. He set his coffee down. If there was an issue, he knew how to take care of it. And even if there wasn’t? He could take preventative measures to put his mind at ease. “Should I ask?” he joked. Offering out his hand to take the coffee from her, he smiled reassuringly to make it seem like he wasn’t too weirded out. “No problem,” he said. “Maybe another time? With Risa, I’m sure she’ll want to thank you. Alcohol always comes appreciated in this house, far as she’s concerned.”

Though she kept her face as neutral as she could, Jasmine couldn’t control the way her heartbeat picked up considerably after her slip of words. Her eyes remained fixed on Michael. Based on context clues, she had the feeling he also knew the ghosts were in the room. If he figured she knew something, she didn’t want to chance that she was the next ghost occupying his living room. She reminded herself to take deep breaths and not get too carried away. Then his joking tone came out and she felt herself relax slightly though she was still on high alert. “Probably not,” she said with a nervous chuckle. Then he was mentioning his wife and she wondered if she knew about all of this. The thought alone made her stomach churn, but she smiled brightly anyway. “Of course. That’d be lovely. I do hope she enjoys the wine. I’ll catch you and Risa again soon.” As she left, she was still looking behind her every few steps to make sure she wasn’t followed. All she knew was that she needed to be far away from here before she decided what she was supposed to do with this newfound information about a serial killer in town.

[sinner-as-saint]

Bad Reputation.

Mob! Seb x reader AU.

 A/N: I was initially gonna do some cheesy ass, so-fluffy-you-could-die imagine. But then I was like, I have my thirsty, horny children waiting on me. So, here you go. 

 Run-through: You work as a bartender at one of the many bars owned by the biggest, most respected mob in the city; Sebastian Stan. And one night, things get…interesting.

 Themes: Smut, mob! Seb, language, age gap

 A/N (ii): I don’t know what time it is when you’re reading this, but Happy Birthday to our baby boy/ Romanian God Sebbie!!

   You placed the cloth down, next to the beer glasses and sighed. The day had been tiring; consisting of countless clients, a few drunken fights which the security guards handled with ease, a few older men flirting with you.

And to top it all off, your boss; the owner of the bar you worked at, was pissed off when he came in and disappeared behind the door which led to the private/VIP area.

Why was he mad? You couldn’t quite tell. Then again, he was a mobster and his entire day revolved around barking orders at people and having to deal with the stupidity of those working with him. So, that probably explains the bad temper.

You never interacted much with Sebastian, he was rather quiet whenever he stopped by the counter for a pint of beer or on some more tough days; shots, before he went home.

He had everything; money, power, control over people, and he had earned enough respect in the city. Yet, it seemed as though he was lonely deep down.

  Clearing your head of the thoughts of your boss, you glanced around one last time to make sure that everything was perfectly in place as you closed.

And you were about to pick your bag up and make your way out of the door, but a voice stopped you.

 “Mind staying for a while longer, Y/N? I’m in terrible need of a drink,” your boss spoke up, stepping out of the VIP section.

He had a faint smirk on his face, and a hint of playfulness in his voice.

 You smiled, nodded and got back to the other side of the counter; grabbing a large glass before he stopped you again.

 “Beer won’t do it, I need something stronger,” he spoke as he approached and settled down on one of the stool.

He rested his hand on the counter and you noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles. He took out a white handkerchief and wiped the blood off his hand, leaving behind a red stain on the white fabric.

 You set the glass down and picked up two shot glasses and his favorite liquor. You poured both shots and pushed them towards him.

 “Who was it today? The French guys?” you asked with a small smile; knowing perfectly well that he must have punched someone who didn’t obey, or agree to what he said.

It was a bad habit of his; among others.

 Sebastian swallowed the first shot, then the second.

He chuckled right after, cherishing the feeling as the liquor burned down his throat.

 “It was. They are…troublesome,” he answered, and watched you intently as you refilled the alcohol.

You noticed a shift in him. Not in his manner, but his voice.

 He leaned against the counter and watched how you pushed the glasses towards him again. He smirked and pushed on of the glasses towards you.

You looked at it, then at him, questioning the situation.

“Oh come on, it’s my birthday. Celebrate with me,” he spoke with such an ease that it sent shivers down your spine.

His voice was suddenly deep and smooth. And the grin on his face made him look even more gorgeous than he already was.

You hesitated.

 “Happy Birthday, but, I shouldn’t, Mr. Stan,”

 “Why not?” he spoke, tilting his head to the side. The dimmed lights accentuated his features; he looked ravishing and lethal at the same time.

 “Because you’re my boss. And I shouldn’t be drinking at work, let alone with you and I still have to walk home. I’m sorry sir,”

 You knew he didn’t like that. He never liked it when people turned him down. He hated hearing ‘no’, and you knew that.

 He chuckled again.

 “It’ll be a secret between you and I, doll. Go on,” he persisted. And given his reputation, you didn’t want to argue further with the most well-known mob of the city.

You reluctantly held the glass and brought it to your lip, while Sebastian watched you with his mischievous, blue eyes.

You tilted your head back and swallowed the contents rapidly, frowning as the liquor burned your throat.

 You placed the glass back down, in front of Sebastian and he smiled back.

 “Happy Birthday to me,” he teased, winking at you; knowing he has won again.

 He swallowed the other shot and looked up at you, his eyes shining in the dimmed lights. There was no one else in the bar, except for the two of you.

Sending a quick glance at clock, it read that it was nearly 11 p.m.

 “You want anything else, sir?” you asked, seeing that he had finished his drink but was still sat at the counter.

Of course, he owned the place; he could do whatever he wanted in it.

 An enticing look was seen on his face as he looked at you right after you questioned him. He was definitely not drunk yet, but he seemed more, lively.

 “Yes, actually. I wanna know you better. Tell me, Y/N, why do you stick around here? Most women would run away from a place like this, the violence, the weapons, the…men, how do you handle it?,” he asked, and leaned forward on the counter.

His face was not far from yours, and you caught the hint of the alcohol in his breath. And you had to admit, he looked good from up close.

His blue eyes bore into your e/c ones.

You knew what he meant, the men who came in here were literal pigs; rich but downright barbaric.

 “Well, the weapons and the violence doesn’t scare me. My dad got into a lot of fights when I was little, and I tended to his wounds, so the violence isn’t alien to me,”

His head shot up in interest as you spoke.

 “As for the men, well, being a woman in a city like this one I just learnt how to live with it. No matter what I do, or where I work, they’re still gonna eye me like I’m a piece of meat. So, I might as well earn me some money while they do that,” you finished with a small smile.

 Sebastian nodded, in appreciation of the answer he got.

Without another word said, he got off the stool and walked around the counter; making his way to the side where you stood. And soon, he stood right in front of you.

You didn’t have much resistance against alcohol, one shot was all it took to make you feel the buzz.

Sebastian stood right in front of you, and his hand reached out and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He was so close to you now that each breathe he let out fanned your face. And his scent was almost irresistible. Strong and fresh, he smelt tempting.

 “You’re very impressive, Y/N. And very pretty too,” he complimented you and for the first time, you didn’t have a proper reply to give him.

Thank you?

 “You too!” you spoke almost too fast and your tone was too cheery. Shit.

 You corrected yourself quickly.

“I mean, thank you. And you’re very impressive too,” you breathed in his scent. He smelt amazing. Jesus, does he always smell that good?

 He chuckled. And took a step forward, causing you to take one back; resulting in you being pressed against the counter and his built frame.

He was quite the ladies’ man in the city. And you often wondered why he hadn’t been officially involved with one of the many beautiful women who always roamed around him.

 “Can I touch you, doll? I’m just, gonna steal a kiss or two,” he whispered as he brought his face closer to yours. You smelt the alcohol in his breathe clearly now.

 Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and his scent invaded your senses.

 You giggled.

“I think you’ve had too many drinks, you need to go home, sir,” you couldn’t help the smile which formed on your face.

 He smiled back.

 “Come on, it’s my birthday. I deserve a kiss from the prettiest girl I know,” he pouted slightly, sticking his bottom lip out. And it made you laugh.

Sebastian Stan, The Sebastian Stan; the most respected mob boss of the city was standing in front of you, pouting, because you won’t kiss him.

Good lord, what is happening?

Your giggles were cut short as he placed his hands on either side of you, on the counter. He had you trapped.

 “That’s quite an excuse, sir. But really, we shouldn’t,”

 “Oh yeah? What’s a better excuse then? The fact that I know you watch me longingly every time I walk in?” he smirked.

He caught you.

 You blushed. And didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t lying; you indeed watched him every day. To be honest, it was the best part of your day; watching him march in with all his glory. His expensive suits, and even more expensive cologne. He was perfect.

But he was also much older than you, a gap of 15 years between the two of you. And you were a mere bartender who worked for him, so, you always believed you had no chance.

Until now, apparently.

 You were flustered, and he saw it. He saw how you blushed and how you hesitated to answer. You squirmed in embarrassment, yet once his lips touched yours; you melted in his touch.

 His mouth moved against yours perfectly, his tongue slipped into your mouth swiftly and you tasted the alcohol you had just served him minutes ago.

Your hand flew around his neck and your lazily caressed the back of his head. His hands were on you; one at your waist and one slipping discretely under the black skirt you were wearing.

You moaned as soon as your felt the coldness from his rings rub against your inner thighs. Was it the alcohol, or the connection between you two, but you felt a tingly sensation all over your body when he pushed your underwear aside and lazily rubbed your wet folds.

 He muffled any sounds you made by placing his mouth on top of yours, tugging at your bottom lip and earning another quiet mewl out of you.

 You whimpered when he teased your clit, rubbing your bundle of nerves with his finger; coating it and spreading around your arousal.

 Grinding against his hand subtly, you tried to chase your orgasm as quickly as you could but he prevented you from doing so.

You whined as he stopped his actions.

 “Oh no, babygirl, I want you to come around my cock,” he whispered sinfully in your ear and slipped his hand from under your skirt and turned you around so your back was pressed up against his torso.

 You gripped the counter as he grabbed your skirt on either side and pulled it down until it pooled around your ankles.

You jumped when he pinched your ass. And the tingly sensation intensified as you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You waited for his cock to bury itself into you, but what you felt against your dripping core was his skilled tongue.

Warm and wet against your heat; he ate you out from behind.

 You shuddered and moaned out loud, his name escaping your lips like a mantra.

You felt his face pressed against your ass; his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and latched his mouth onto your core.

His fingers lightly rubbed your clit as his tongue poked your tight entrance. Your eyes rolled back and your face lowered until your forehead touched the cold surface of the counter.

A quiet mewl escaped your lips as you heard the wet sounds which erupted from your unholy doings. You couldn’t see him, but you were sure he looked enticing with his plump, pink lips on your wet heat; you arousal dripping down his chin and coating his beard and lips as he devoured you.

There was a hunger in him, seen through his actions. And your face burned in embarrassment as you thought about how intimately he was touching you.

 You whined as you felt the pressure building again.

Yet, as your moans got more and more high pitched, he lifted his mouth off you. He placed wet kissed on your lower back and lightly smacked your ass cheek.

Your body trembled. Your knees felt weak, and of it weren’t for the counter, you were sure you’d be a hot mess on the floor.

 Anticipation burned bright in your gut and your core throbbed due to lack of attention from him.

 “Tell me if I hurt you, babygirl. Don’t be too loud,” he whispered against the shell of your ear before placing his hand on your shoulder and urging you to bend over the counter.

Your heart raced as you did.

 This was new for you. And it was exciting.

 You felt his tip press against your folds, slowly rubbing up and down; parting the lips at your entrance. He moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you.

Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust.

Slowly, he filled you up; stretching you and had you whimpering under him.

 “F-fuck, you feel so good, doll,” his voice cracked as he moaned out how good you felt. And the fire inside you intensified.

 You couldn’t form proper words as he started rocking into you. Slowly, then building up his pace.

You felt all of him; the raw him. And you shamelessly liked it.

 Each time he filled you up entirely, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot, and you moaned out loud each time he did so.

Your mind was hazy, by the bit of liquor in your system, and him slamming into you. His thrust was animalistic, and rough. Each time he slammed into you, your front crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that.

His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and pressed your face further into the counter. You whimpered as his pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he did so.

The sounds of your skin slapping against one another was downright obscene, and the grunts leaving his mouth was even more sinful.

You couldn’t see him, yet you believed he looked absolutely divine with his head thrown back, eyes closed, his lips parted as occasional groans escaped his lips.

He must be quite the sight.

 You moaned as he hit a sensitive spot, and he pinched your ass as you did. He seemed to be rather enjoying himself, toying with your body and using you however he liked. And not even a fiber of your body hated that – quite the contrary actually.

 You felt a familiar warmth washing over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer.

And when your walls clenched around him, Sebastian knew you were close as well.

 “You gonna come for me, doll? Go ahead, come around my cock babygirl,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire.

 It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him; you came, hard.

He did too. With a few strokes against your walls, he came right after you.

His warm load shooting inside you, leaving behind his presence as your body shook against the counter.

 Carefully, he pulled out. And smiled sinisterly as he watched how his cum trickled out of you and past your folds. He adjusted his pants and zipped it up.

Satisfied, he pulled your underwear up, then your skirt, and finally; he pulled you up against him.

Your back was still against his torso, and his arms were around you. Unable to trust your own body, your hands gripped the counter still.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissed your skin and moved his lips to your ear.

 “Thanks for the birthday present, doll,” he whispered teasingly in your ear. And you couldn’t help the blush, nor the smile which appeared on your face.

 Let’s say, that night was quite unforgettable.

   ---

 The next day, evening rather, you were back at work. With each step you took, each movement – you felt him.

You felt the soreness in between your legs, and the bruises on the sides of your hips where he had held you. The all the marks he left behind on your; as a reminder of his presence.

You sighed for the hundredth time that night and served your client anyway.

Each time you wiped the counter with the dark red cloth, you thought of him. How he had railed you against it, how he had pressed your face into it as he pounded into you from behind, and how he had whispered sinful things, and called you names which still made you dizzy when you think about it.

As if to tease you more, just as you thought of him; he walked in through the doors. Looking as expensive as always, Sebastian looked around.

But before his eyes met yours, you looked elsewhere.

How could you face him?

 All the beautiful women who associated themselves with Sebastian earned titles. Not good ones either. Sebastian was quite a player, and stories of his promiscuity could be heard occasionally.

Spending a steamy night with the mob boss earned one a bad reputation. And now you did too. And although no one knew about it, you couldn’t help but feel as though you had been unprofessional – given you had slept with your boss.

 You tried to seem busy, as you picked up clean glasses, wiped them and placed them back to where they initially were.

 “Something bothering you, little one? Hate seeing pretty girls like you sulking,” commented a man who was sat the counter.

 That damned counter…

 He looked like he was an important persona, and you couldn’t be rude.

 As much as you wanted to flip him off and tell him to kindly stay out of your business, your job required you to smile even when you received vulgar comments. After all, you worked for The Sebastian Stan, any mistake or misbehavior on your part would result as a blemish on his image.

 “I’m alright, sir. Nothing to worry about. Enjoy your evening,” you replied, fake smiling politely as you kept pretending as of you were busy.

Through your peripheral vision, you noticed that Sebastian stood still in the middle of his busy bar. People around you were rather loud, so you wondered if he heard any of the interaction between you and the man.

You didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to come up to you, you couldn’t look at him. Was it shame, embarrassment, or the fact that you liked how he had fucked you like he owned you?

You didn’t know. All you knew is that you couldn’t look him in the eye.

 “Probably would’ve enjoyed it better if you came home with me tonight. You’re a pretty thing, you know that? Girls like you don’t belong to places like these,” he spoke and sipped on his gin and tonic.

 Good lord. Here we go again…

 You opened your mouth to politely tell him off but before you could, another voice intervened.

 “Careful there, Stark. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sebastian spoke, his voice smooth and almost melodic.

As soon as he spoke, you immediately thought of how he had been moaning while he was pounding into you the previous night.

And your head lowered as your face flushed again. You still couldn’t look at him.

The man named ‘Stark’ laughed and turned to face Sebastian, then you felt as though he looked at you again. Both their stared burning on your skin.

You felt exposed as your eyes flicked to that damned counter again.

 “Why so? Is this one taken or something?” Stark spoke in a mocking voice; testing Sebastian’s patience.

 Stark had a smug look on his face, which was quickly wiped off as soon as Sebastian spoke.

 “She is. She’s mine,” his words caused you to finally look up at him. Stark was surprised, he scoffed and left.

 Sebastian’s blue eyes sparkled as they looked into yours. A pleasant smirk on his gorgeous face as he looked at you intently.

Not a word was spoken, yet a promise was made.

  Bad reputation or not, you had no problem with being his.

-

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[poignantpastiche]

The Adventure of the Undead Man- A Sherlock Holmes Pastiche

Three sharp raps sounded against the oak door and echoed throughout the flat. It was an early winter morning, Holmes and I having just settled down for a hot breakfast. The air in the room was cold and still, and the harsh knocks at the door seemed to penetrate the atmosphere of our quiet meal. I was quite used to Holmes’ clients ringing at unusual hours, but this guest had sent no letter or otherwise indication of their oddly punctuated arrival. Holmes raised an eyebrow, his aqualine face one of mild surprise. 

“You may enter” he mused, gently setting his fork upon the table.  

Our calm and somewhat still morning was abruptly interrupted by the thin figure which threw open the door and paced angrily into the room. As a bachelor, I have little experience with the mysterious mannerisms of the opposite sex. But this woman and her evident temper were unlike any I have seen on a young lady. She was plainly beautiful in appearance, with striking dark hair that tumbled wildly down the shoulders in loose curls. Her pale face, however, was gaunt with impassioned excitement and her eyes shone with fervor. She paused in the middle of the sitting room, clutching her skirts and gathering her bearings as a wild beast might when first released into the zoo enclosure. She sharply exhaled and turned to face my companion. 

“You are the one they call Sherlock Holmes, sì?” Her voice was low and thick with an Italian accent. “I need assistance with a most horrid problem. E morto, eppure non lo è!” She said this with a loud cry, raising her arms as if to strike against the air itself. 

Holmes helped the strange woman into a seat and poured out a glass of brandy to ease her passionate temper. After some time she seemed to become more docile, smoothing her rumpled skirts and twirling her ebony hair between thin fingers. 

“Madam, what has happened at the West Norwood cemetery which brings you to my flat at such an hour?” Sherlock leaned forward, his eyes sharp with curiosity.

The woman gave a sudden start in her seat, peering at my companion with tempermental confusion. “Mio Dio. How on earth did you know?” 

Holmes takes a certain degree of pride in the mystery which surrounds his deductions, and the shock on one’s face with the realization of his powers always sets a small smile to his lips. He shook his head. “Nevermind that, madam, what has occurred last night which has evidently brought you here at such an hour? I would much like to know”. 

She stared warily at the detective, sipping on Brandy before finally beginning her strange and grotesque narrative. 

“My name is Giulia Brambilla. I emigrated to London from Monza, Italia just two years ago. Upon my arrival in the city, I took up lodgings in a small boarding house in East London. My father was not a wealthy man, but left me with all he had so that I may start fresh in this England. The owner of my lodgings was a kind old man by the name of William Taylor. He also owned a shoe shop just under the second story rooms, and allowed me to do odd jobs there throughout the day for a small allowance. The work was light, mostly consisting of sweeping the floor and putting shoes up on shelves. This is where my troubles begin, Holmes. After a few months of working in the shop, Mr. Taylor informed me that his youngest son was to be returning from college and taking up lodgings, having completed his studies abroad. I paid his words little attention until that night, when Mister Jack Taylor entered the shoe shop. Mai nella mia vita, Holmes, I have never met a more horrid young man! From the moment he walked through the door I could feel his sour gaze upon me. His compliments were shallow, given one after the other in conversation. Jack followed me for weeks as I did my work in the shop. He would attempt to hold my waist as I swept, or make light conversation when I brushed grime off a pair of shoes. I made it clear as day to him that I was not interested in his affections. But he persisted, Mister Holmes, he did! For months this went on, until I felt as if I should have to quit the shop to escape his persistence. It was just last month that I noticed, one day, he was absent from my morning chores. I was instantly filled with relief, and hoped he had returned to his studies or found better lodgings. When Mr. William Taylor entered, however, I was informed that Jack had in fact suffered a hardening of the coronary arteries and died of a heart attack in the night. It was a shock to me, but I could not help but feel some joy in this news. Mr. Taylor, overcome with grief, shut down his shop for the rest of the month and I was forced to find work elsewhere. As I spent some time gardening in Monza, I took up a small job planting flowers in the West Norwood cemetery”.   

“Miss Brambilla,” Holmes interrupted. “Was this the very cemetery where young Jack Taylor was supposedly buried?”

The woman tugged at her hair. “Yes, mister Holmes. That is exactly how it began. One evening about last week, as I trimmed the leaves of a bush by the gate, a familiar voice seemed to sound in my ear. I paused and frantically looked about but saw no one. I thought it to be merely the wind, and continued my work. The same odd and faint voice was heard each day after this, but each time I looked up from my task there was no one to be found”. 

Miss Brambilla paused and inhaled shakily. “Until last night. I was working late in the cemetery when I saw a dark figure outlined by the moonlight. I was frightened, but stepped closer to better view this odd visitor. And that is when I saw him. l'uomo orribile, it was Jack Taylor! He stood on his very own two feet, watching me with a blank look plastered upon his pale face. I ran like I have never run before, away from that man who for so many months had haunted my life, and now haunts it again from his grave. You must help me, Holmes, for he is as alive as he is dead”. 

Holmes had the unmistakable look of pure intrigue that told me he was to take this woman’s case. He turned to me, smiling gently. 

“We have dealt with the supernatural once before, Watson, in our case of the Hound of the Baskervilles. Perhaps we shall dabble in it once again”. 

Thanks for reading this short excerpt! This is just the beginning of a pastiche I am working on; let me know if you would like to read more. Have a lovely day!