#(except my next vacation here soon is going to turn out to be yet another diplomacy mission since extended family will be there)

[a-boca-do-inferno]

medicine (caesar x human!reader)

summary: The ape colony is short on painkillers for humans, except Caesar learned a lot in his time living with them. Lucky for you.

warnings: period mention, interspecies (mild)smut

words: 1.9k

notes: lol yeah another one... im just enjoying it while i can ok. my vacation ends next month 💀 boa leitura!

It couldn’t be later than midnight. You hissed as your cramps only got harsher and harsher. In the cold everything became much worse, and this time was no different. You curled up towards Maurice to try and borrow some warmth from his fur, yet it felt helpless; your body shook like a leaf, and the pain in your womb was ridiculous.

Noticing your distress, Maurice wakes up from his sleep and signs with a worried expression, “I call Caesar?”

You shake your head even before he can say his name. The ape king had more important matters to attend to than your stupid human cramps. On top of it all, it was his resting moment now. You wouldn’t bother him with this. “No. Let him sleep.”

“Herbs?”

“Doesn’t work.” You grunt in frustration, signing with a frown. “I’m fine. By morning it will get better. It’s just the cold.”

“Winter start now.” Maurice argues, still with his gentleness in every word. You only nod in response and he insists, pointing towards Caesar’s tent. “Talk tomorrow. He can help. Lived with humans… before.”

Your eyes fell on the king sleeping a few feet away from you. Could Maurice really have a point? Perhaps Caesar indeed knew some trick to help with period cramps. You did hear he was brought up with human parents, which meant he must’ve had a woman around—you never touched on the subject out of respect, since you two weren’t close. Exchanging a last look with the orangutan, you displayed another short nod. A wave of pain reached your abdomen again and you sighed quietly, burying yourself in ginger fur, despite it being fruitless at that point.

The next day, the colony was awake as soon as the sun was out. It was a rare morning with sunlight and you thanked heavens mentally, appreciating the heat, even if mild, radiating from the star above. The pain had subdued considerably and you took the opportunity to help with supper. Sometimes you helped Maurice in school, but being on your feet proved to make matters worse those days.

You settled around the fire with the girls who tended to cooking. As you were in the middle of grilling fish, a hand touched your shoulder and you turned to face Caesar beating a tight expression. You stood up immediately to greet him, showing your respect for the king. You tried your best to look obedient to his power, as you were well aware of their history with humans, and his reaction was always the same—a dismissive hand gesture, green eyes softening gradually. However, his gaze remained serious now, and you gulped in anticipation.

“Cramps?” Caesar points to your stomach, his gravelly voice a low sound.

Your cheeks heat up and you want to roll your eyes, but refrain from doing so. Maurice and his gigantic mouth. You had hoped he’d forgotten about last night’s talk. Gesturing sheepishly, you stare at the floor. “It’s fine. The sun helps.” You motion upwards to prove your point.

Caesar glances at the pink sky and notices the big star almost fading in the horizon, then back at you. Your inability to keep eye contact with him didn’t go unnoticed, either, making him narrow his green orbs. The muscles in his jaw jump, and he grumbles, his face unimpressed, “sun not here at night.”

“I know, but...”

“But?” He challenges, raising a brow. The king crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that made him even more menacing. You were used to his imposing presence—the tall and muscular build, the scars on his body, the permanent look of seriousness—yet there were few things more intimidating than seeing Caesar like this, with his displeasure directed at you.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to sound convincing even though you felt like a child being reprimanded. “But I have Maurice to…”

“Maurice... ratted you out. Like humans… say.” Caesar cuts you off with a hint of amusement, in contrast with his dry voice. Carefully, he takes your shirt in his large hands, lifting the fabric to expose your belly without so much as a request for permission; not that he needed it, anyway. His calloused fingers made goose bumps on your skin while navigating your soft form. He lets go of you and signs sharply. “Need medicine. Can’t stay like this.”

You furrow your brows. “They don’t work, Caesar, but it’s okay. It’s just a couple of days. It’ll go away.”

He stops for a moment, contemplating your protests. His gaze flicks to your eyes, acute and intense, making you shrink under his scrutiny. “Not okay. Pain… too much.” Surely the ape would never let you be writhing in pain every night, no matter if it was but a week. With a final huff, Caesar then orders, “you stay with me tonight.”

“But I...” At the look he shoots you, you know there’s no more arguing. The king has spoken. With a defeated sigh, you nod and watch him step away on his hind legs, towering over the others. You mutter under your breath, “God, I miss democracy.” 

As the day went on, you did your best to ignore the annoying throb in your abdomen, knowing you'd be glared at by Caesar if he caught you grimacing again. A low hum of crickets began to fill the night air as the apes settled down around the fire. The hour grew late and the campsite gradually became quiet, the crackling bonfire the only source of light and life. 

You were eating fish alongside Maurice and Rocket, laughing at something the ginger spoke about the kids in school today. On the other side of the circle, green eyes kept vigilant over you with no subtlety at all. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burning at the attention. Caesar finished his meal, glancing towards you through the darkness as you remained by the fire after everyone was gone. He slowly made his way over, his massive figure casting a shadow as he approached you. 

With some lightheartedness he signs, extending a hand, “time to rest.” Your eyes follow his gestures and you take his palm. He guides you toward his tent in considerable silence before closing the curtain-like branches draped over the entrance, hooting faintly as he points to his nest. “Lie down.”

You obey him, your breathing slowly increasing its pace. You clasp your hands over your stomach anxiously, intertwining your fingers. “What are you gonna do?”

Caesar scans over you for a moment, noting the tension in your demeanour. “Massage.” He grunts, moving to sit next to you, his muscles rippling with his every movement. The ape pries apart your hands, replacing them with his own much larger ones, his palms settling on your abdomen similar to how he did earlier. He eyes your reactions closely. “May… I?”

You didn’t respond with words, silently granting Caesar permission to go on with his idea. Hooting again, a sound that almost felt like he was trying to soothe your nerves, his rough skin made contact with your tender one, brushing and squeezing it in fairly skilful ways. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, you found yourself relaxing under his ministrations, your eyelids fluttering shut from time to time. The ape didn’t say much as he worked, green orbs fixated on your expressions while continuing to move his hands in small circles over your womb area. His face was nearly unreadable, the usual stoic frown now replaced by a look of concentration.   

The ape kept going, a low grumble escaping him every now and then as he tried to maintain the pressure at a certain point to make the pain dissipate. You had no idea when it shifted in nature, yet all of a sudden, his movements seemed a lot more sensual than anything. Your interior was only getting hotter by the minute, accompanied by the clear flush on your face. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. Your attempts at making yourself believe in those affirmations were unsuccessful, pathetic at best; and it all came down crumbling when the quietest moan left your throat, causing Caesar to freeze and stop with the massage.

You stare at him with widened eyes, embarrassment and fear encapsulated in your features, and you immediately sit up and sign in desperation, your tone just as urgent, “I’m… I’m sorry, Caesar, please. It was just…”

A dark look passed over Caesar’s face as he watched you stumble on yourself with apologies. Without a word, his stare dropped to your body once more, the fingers in your abdomen applying more pressure against the flesh, feeling the heat as you reacted to his touch. He could smell your scent changing and a guttural sound escaped his lips as his green eyes glanced at you unblinking, his hand slowly drifting down your womb and stopping on your pelvis deliberately. 

You inhaled sharply, in surprise and excitement, the realisation hitting you like a brick. The ape curled his digits and resumed the massage, his nostrils flaring as he huffed, clearly aroused. Your faces stood inches apart, his hot, heavy breath against you blowing your hair lightly. You put your arm around his neck and he grunted in appreciation, his expression softening at the way you whimpered in pleasure, begging for more. His fingers rubbed circles on your clit through your clothes in a steady rhythm, causing you to bury your face in his furry neck, gasping.

“I’m gonna…”

Caesar heaved in your ear encouragingly and it was the final straw. You came against his hand, squeezing your thighs in reflex whilst he kept massaging your heat through your orgasm. The ape king continued to look at you eagerly and you tried to get out of his grasp, ashamed of what just transpired. He swallowed thickly, holding onto your forearm to prevent you from scooting away, and pressed your foreheads together.

He hooted, grabbing your palm and taking it to his leg. Your gaze followed his movement and you noticed how excited he was, too. Your mind was hazy from your high just a few seconds ago, then it dawned on you that he felt as aroused as you by what happened. It wasn’t just you and your period hormones. It never even crossed your mind that it was possible for him to desire you this way. You cupped his cheeks as your heads stayed pressed to one another, closing your eyes, his scent intoxicating your system.

Caesar nuzzled your cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of you in as much as he could, making sure to memorise each and every inch of your scent under his touch. He ran his hand to place it on the nape of your neck, guiding your body towards his, until you were sitting on his lap, straddling his massive frame. The action brought your chest flush with his, a low rumble escaping him when your curves brushed his bare skin. He found the crook of your shoulder, his tongue trailing a path over the sensitive area, making you shiver. The king huffed again, his free hand sliding up your leg to grip a handful of your flesh, pulling you closer—his grip kept you in place, letting him claim you in any way he wanted.

“Cold?” He hums, still nuzzling you.

The sensation causes you to blush deeper, caressing his chin. “Not anymore.”

“Cramp?” Caesar rasps inquisitively, placing a warm palm on your belly again.

You snort and shake your head. “No. Your medicine worked... Thanks.”

You can swear there’s a smirk on his lips as he nods once, holding your hips protectively. “Good.” He presses you closer to him and huffs, and you understand it right away. Your doctor’s appointment wasn’t over yet, it seemed.

[cigsotw-fikz]

i saw you were taking requests so i was wondering if i could get a greg x bryce one shot were bryce gets jealous really easy and its kinda known around school but nobody tells greg??? its kinda hard to explain but if you cant write it then its fine 😖😖

— jealous. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤin which greg is oblivious to bryce's jealousy ──────────────── ୨୧ ──────────────── intro + reqs rules here | reqs open. . genre(s): canon x canon | sfw (non-smut). . warnings: none. . a/n: i'm so, so sorry i didn't upload this earlier. got busy then gone on vacation :( i didn't know if you wanted them to already be boyfriends or for bryce to be jealous without them being anything so uh, i didn't made them boyfriends yet (i don't even ship them so this can be bad, tried my best) couldn't find any decent bryce photo so opted for using dysfunctional perspective's designs. (btw this is not in the same universe as dp). i lost my imagination midway of writing. constructive criticism is allowed. english is not my first language! ──────────────── ୨୧ ──────────────── Greg tried to keep up with his conversation despite the usual commotion in the lunchroom. People talking, distant giggles and unintelligible murmurs. He had been hanging out with Holly more often. He used to have a crush on her, but it started to disappear with time. He wasn't sure if they could be considered friends now, though, but he enjoyed whatever they had. However, there was someone who didn't like whatever they had. Bryce was sitting on another table, quietly observing Greg and Holly talk as his poor lunch got attacked by the very useless plastic fork he was holding. His 'friends' beside him eyed at him mischievously and tried their best not to laugh, because last time one of them laughed they payed by being elbowed by a not-so-amused Bryce. It was pretty much known around the whole school that Bryce was jealous. Yes, jealous was the word. Jealous of how Greg's attention was directed to Holly Hills and not to him. Jealous of how he smiled at her and she smiled at him. Jealous. It was a rumor spread all around the school, that wasn't exactly a rumor. Because rumors were fake and that wasn't. "You know they aren't a couple, right?" One of the boys next to him dared to ask. "Greg stopped liking her since like-" "I know. Why would you mention it?" He was trying to play dumb, to act cool. But his voice betrayed him. The guy stopped himself from answering because he wanted to keep his arm unbruised. You know how I said everyone knew? Everyone except Greg, who noticed Bryce staring and waved at him. The blond felt his heart skip a beat and waved back. He would never admit he was jealous. Because admitting he was jealous was admitting he felt something for Greg. Love, a desire to be his friend, whatever. He didn't want to feel anything for him. — Classes continued with normality. But Bryce's emotions didn't. He still felt a wave of rage when he noticed how Greg still chatted with Holly or spent some time with Rowley instead. Not with him. "Heffley!" He shouted as he ran after him on the hallway. Greg turned to see him and asked if he needed anything. As soon as their conversation started, soft murmurs and giggles filled the school again. Murmurs of people eyeing over them and whispering to their friends. Everyone knew. Everyone except Greg himself. "Sure, my parents won't mind, I think. It's Rodrick's turn to babysit Manny if mom's needs to go out." The black-haired answered to Bryce's question about staying at school a bit more to help him with some math homework after school. As you might assume, Bryce didn't care for those stupid exercises at all. He actually didn't need help. But if that made Greg hang out with him, it worked. ──────────────── ୨୧ ──────────────── . today's fic question: what's your favourite doawk character? mine are rodrick and holly! 💟

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody���s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

[xneens]

best friend’s daddy - part three

Warnings: dark!andy barber, language, mentions of age difference, mentions of sex, underage drinking, pregnancy

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: A series of snapshots with your past and current life with Andy Barber.

[highly requested—and i mean highly]

masterlist

Newton, MA - 2017 Homecoming Game

He saw you immediately, shamelessly staring at the bright, yet fake smile slapped on your face as you posed for the picture. Andy's eyes drifted to the football players arms around your waist, too far down for the assistant district attorney's liking, not that he could do anything about it. He was unable to contain the eye roll when one of the players pressed a quick kiss on your cheek while you looked at the camera.

Andy knew he had no right feeling that way. He knew you thought he hated you. The glares, the tone he used, the disapproval glances he gave Jacob whenever you were with him. It was enough evidence for you to think he didn't want you around. He didn't. But not for the same reasons as you think.

Jacob ran past him, pulling you into a hug as the players around you ran back to their pre-game huddle, hyping themselves up. He heard your laugh, his previous annoyance washing away as he listened, wishing he didn't have to keep up his act. Instead, he watched from afar, noticing the fake smile replaced by a genuine one as you hugged your best friend, your cheer skirt rising before dropping back to it's already short length as soon as Jacob let you go.

Like the years before, Laurie didn't come to the homecoming game, claiming she was far too busy with work but Andy wasn't dumb. He could see it in her face everyday, helplessly watching his wife distance herself from him. But he couldn't blame her; he was doing the same. After all, not everything is supposed to last forever.

He secretly admired you, silently praising your will to pursue the career you wanted despite the very many attempts, and lectures from your parents about becoming a lawyer. Andy had gotten calls from them, more than happy to show you around the building with your parents hope of you magically being interested in what they had planned. But you were stubborn, and you hadn't backed down. He was impressed.

You glanced at Andy, surprised he wasn't glaring at you but rather staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place, and you quickly diverted your eyes back to Jacob. "I'm so glad you came! Thank you for not being a total nerd tonight."

"My dad practically dragged me out of the house, grumbling about how I had to support my best friend when she's on the cheerleading team." Jacob explained, motioning to his father, the older Barber climbing the stairs as he claimed a spot on the bleachers next to your father. "I think it was just an excuse to watch a game that didn't feature the Patriots."

Once again, you were surprised. As said before, you thought he didn't care for your presence; to hear he wanted his son to support you was surprisingly shocking no matter how small it was. "Oh. Looks like he and Dad are gossiping again. Your mom didn't come?"

"No, she had work. What about yours?" asked Jacob.

"Business trip." you answered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You saw the Instagram posts her friends posted, the so-called business trip had turned into a vacation with the girls. You heard your name being yelled, your cheer squad waving you over. Turning back to Jacob, you smiled. "They're calling me over so I gotta go. I'll find you after halftime, okay? We can ditch."

Jacob arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching up. "But you're head cheerleader. Aren't you supposed to stay for the whole game?"

"Nah, Leila can take over after halftime. I'll just make up an excuse and say I went off with a guy or something." you said, tightening your ponytail. "Oh, and don't use the last stall in the boy's bathroom. Pretty sure someone had sex in that."

"Pretty sure that someone was you." he replied, grinning as you flipped him off. He laughed when you nearly ran into toddler, apologizing to the little person before running to the squad.

Jacob joined Andy and your father, answering questions from your dad, and listening to the two fathers talk about the mundane life as the game started. Andy's vision kept drifting off to you, cheering on the sidelines as the game, accidentally missing parts of the game. Not that he minded to much, he had a nice view, and he knew the score. It wasn't that much of an inconvenience for him.

Before halftime, you snuck away, going into the school to grab another hair tie from your locker. Thankfully, the field was close to the west side of the school, the locker bay only a short walk from the entrance. Coincidentally, just as you walked towards the bathroom with the hair tie, Andy bumped into you, the phone in his hand dropping to the floor.

"Oh, shit." you cursed, quickly bending down, grabbing the phone and handing it back to your best friend's dad. "Sorry, Mr. Barber, I wasn't looking."

Andy sighed, studying his phone instead of giving into the urge to comfort your tense state. For the millionth time, he wished he didn't have to act like a dick to you. "It's fine. Just watch where your going or you might head into the mens' room."

Not knowing whether he was serious or not, you gave an awkward nod, walking pass him. You hadn't seen the lingering glance he gave you before walking back to the game. Pushing on the bathroom door, you let yourself drown in your jitters, hyping yourself up before coming back and performing.

You had forgotten about Andy by the time you returned.

—

Newton, MA - May 14, 2018

Andy heard the knock, getting out of his seat to unlock the door. A presence befall him, a feeling he only got when you were nearby. With that thought, he immediately opened the door, greeted by the sight of you soaking from the rainfall, shivering, eyes slightly swollen, and downright miserable.

He called out your name in surprise, shocked to see you in such a messy state, let alone see you in his office. "What happened? Come in, come in. Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I—" you shivered, biting your lip to keep from spilling every problem you had faced on him. "It was raining so hard that I had to stop so I wouldn't crash or anything. And this was the closest building I parked to. I ran inside but I guess it didn't make any difference seeing how soaked I am."

Andy wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, unable to find a stray blanket or anything warm to give you. He led you to the leather couch, softly pushing you down to sit on it. "Come here, sit down. Did school end early?"

"No, um, I skipped." you sniffed, sinking down on the leather, letting Andy's coat fall over your shoulders. "I had a fight with my mom. A big one. So, I didn't exactly feel that great to come to school and I've been driving around since eight."

"Sweetheart, you're soaked. You're going to get sick." Andy murmured, wiping his warm hand over your forehead, the little droplets of water wetting his hand. "I have some clean clothes in my gym bag. Tell me what you were fighting about, it might make you feel better."

You watched him grab his duffel bag from under his desk, opening your mouth to protest but the cold, wet clothes made you close it. "I made some backhand comment about having a job in fashion, then she just blew up. She wants me to be a lawyer, go to the best schools, and be successful even if I'm not happy. I told her to fuck off, yelling that I'll do what I want. She didn't like that answer, so I grabbed my keys and drove around."

Andy gave you his Patriots shirt, and a clean pair of sweats, taking his wet jacket from you. You whispered a thank you, before taking off your dripping shirt, not caring Andy was watching. He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes away from your half-naked body. "Well, what did you want to be? What do you want to do after school?"

"I don't really know, except for the fact that I don't want to be a lawyer, that's for sure." you replied, putting on the sweatpants Andy gave you, relishing in the warmth. "I'm sorry for getting your couch wet, I—"

"It's okay, don't worry about it, sweetheart. Are you okay, now? Do you want me to do something about it?" Andy asked, unsure to hug you so he settled for an awkward pat on your shoulder, moving closer to you.

You scoffed, fidgeting with the hem of the large Patriots t-shirt, rolling your eyes at the question. "Trust me, there's nothing you could do about it. They're both so persistent on me being this successful lawyer that it doesn't matter if I want to be one. Tell me, Mr. Barber, what's so fucking great about being one?"

He bit back a smile, shifting on the couch until he was touching you, the serotonin you gave him encouraged Andy to brush back your dripping hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, and a slight frown, you meet his eyes. "Well, firstly, you're able to help people. In layman's terms, you either can defend a client, or prosecute a criminal. Putting the bad guys away. Um, you can meet new people, have some experiences that's unlikely for others. But, you're right. You shouldn't have to do what you're parents have planned for you."

"Try telling them that." you sniffled, goosebumps appearing on your arms, subconsciously leaning your cheek on Andy's hand. He heard the angelic sigh escape from your lips, his smile appearing. "Thank you for the clothes and everything Mr. Barber."

"Don't mention it." he replied, bravely wrapping his arms around your slightly shivering body. Andy felt you tense for a few moments before slowly relaxing, shifting so he could rest his chin on your head, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your back. After a few minutes of silence, Andy reluctantly broke the silence. "Would you like me to call Jacob?"

He saw the flash of hurt in your eyes before you composed your expression, nodding slowly as you pulled away. "Yeah, I'll call him. He has free period so he won't be missing anything, I promise. Sorry for keeping you from work, Mr. Barber."

Andy shook his head, helping you up from the couch. "No, no, no. I just had some papers to go through, you didn't keep me from anything. The rain is slowing but you can stay in here until Jake comes. If you want."

You nodded, giving him a weak smile. "Thank you."

—

The Barber House - June 1, 2018

Giggling uncontrollably, you leaned against Jacob, a bottle of beer in your hand. Jacob laughed over the cartoon character with you, throwing his head back at the ridiculous scene on screen. Scooby had just stared at the screen, ending the episode, the screen turning black before another episode started. The noise Scooby made just had you and Jacob in another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

The sleepover had been spontaneous, yet long way overdue. In less than a week, you'd have graduated, and moved out of Boston, living in New York City as you went to the same college. That was one of the upside of finally leaving Newton, but even with the continuous nagging from your parents, you were still going to miss them.

You had been extra quiet, knowing full well Andy was stressed for something Laurie had done, the wife walking out of the house just as you had pulled up on the driveway. She had given you a friendly greeting, asking questions about graduation, before hugging you and driving away in her car. You knew it was bad as soon as you entered the house, seeing Andy glaring at the kitchen counter as you waited for Jacob to come save you. Thankfully, you didn't have to make small talk with the lawyer.

But the his tense expression was enough to keep you quiet in Jacob's room. Well, until he turned up with beers he had gotten from a mutual friend of yours, Cory Gilbert, the bartender at the bar and grill you and Jacob frequented at. He was over 21, legally able to buy the beer, giving it to Jacob as a present for graduation. Cory had given you a nice bottle of brandy, but you had decided to save it for graduation night instead.

Getting drunk hadn't been hard, for Jacob anyways; it took more than a few pleads from your already drunk friend to convince you to drink with him. Once you did, you felt the liquid slightly burn down your throat and you greeted the giddy feeling it left you. Soon, you were found leaning against Jacob's bed, sitting on the floor as the both of you cackled at the animations playing on the screen.

Andy still hadn't came up to hush the both of you; and to be honest, you weren't sure to be relieved or disappointed. You settled for relieved once as you saw Scooby and Shaggy running away from a "monster."

It was half past ten when you finally got up from your spot on the floor, leaving Jacob to drunkenly slur at his phone while the tv played in the background. Getting up, you headed to the bathroom, careful not to make anymore sounds than you already had. You were too drunk to notice Andy standing outside his door, arms crossed as he amusingly stared at your little tip-toe walk to the bathroom.

You finished your business, washing your hands, and heading back to Jacob's room when you lost your footing and stumbled into Andy's arms. You yelped in alarm, glad for the muscular arms that caught you. Looking up, you saw what your drunk brain could only describe as Adonis. You smiled, patting his pec as you slurred. "Thank you, Mr. Barber."

"How drunk are you, sweetheart?" Andy asked, not letting you go. He felt you swaying slightly in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest until your face was only a couple of inches away from his. His eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue licking his own. "You look flushed."

Giggling, you couldn't help but grin at the human contact. You had been so sure he hated you, but from your current position, your assumption seemed silly. "You're making me blush. Me and Jacob haven't been drank—drinking that much, pinky swear."

He snickered at the tiny slip up with your grammar, the slowness and laziness in your voice evidence enough if it hadn't been for the burst of confidence, and shouts from Jacob's room. "You shouldn't be lying, especially to a lawyer. Let's get you sobered up, wouldn't want you waking up with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow, now would we?"

Andy places a hand on your back, his hand intertwining with yours as he tried to lead you downstairs safely but you halted in the middle of the hallway, laughing as you sneaked behind him. You tapped his shoulder, trying to push him down. "Gimme a piggy back ride, Mr. Barber. Like the ones you gave me when I was four!"

The lawyer burst out laughing, finding your drunk confidence adorable. He couldn't help but agree, squatting down enough for you to climb onto his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms locking around his neck. Andy held your legs in place with his hands, shifting you upwards so you rested comfortably on his back. Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow. "You ready, princess?"

You nodded in response, your hair ticking his neck as you snuggled closer to his neck, nuzzling your cheek. All the alcohol had rushed to your head. Andy walked down the stairs, careful to keep his grip on you as he did so. He heard all the tiny giggles and gasps you made, his bad mood dissolving with each sound. He couldn't remember a time Laurie had made him that happy.

Reaching the kitchen, Andy sat you down on the kitchen island, reluctantly letting you go as he went to grab a glass of water. He gave you the glass, but you rejected it, too busy looking at the game on the tv, seeing past the arch and into the living room.

He set the glass on the counter, leaning against it as he crossed his arms, staring at the mesmerized—and drunk—girl in admiration. You turned your attention back on him as soon as the commercials rolled, catching him ogling you. Blushing, you giggled once again, waving him over.

Curious, Andy stepped towards you, surprised when you gripped the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer to you until he was only a couple of inches away. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear. "I have a secret."

"What is it?" Andy asked, one word away from kissing his son's best friend. The tension radiating from interaction had him weak, helpless from the very tempting chance to take you right there and then.

Cupping your hand around your lips, you felt him snake between your legs, bringing you even closer. With your lips near his ear, you whispered, "I have the biggest crush on you. Sometimes I wish you were single so I could ride you until I physically can't."

Andy growled, his hands digging into your waist as his lips hovered over yours, his blue eyes piercing yours. He murmured your name, so close to losing all of his control.

"Every time I come over, I hope you'd push me against a wall, rip my shirt off and fuck a baby in me." you confessed, loving his body warmth. His grip had tighten on you to the point it was borderline painful, but you relished in it, the alcohol numbing the rational thoughts in your head as they screamed at you to shut up.

The lawyer was so close to doing what you wanted, nearly taking you right there. But much to his dismay, his morals had held him back; surely all it would take would be another sentence murmured from your lips but he considered himself strong. "Sweetheart..."

Just as Andy's lips brushed over yours, loud, heavy footsteps made him pull away, spotting his son drunkenly enter the kitchen. You smiled brightly at Jacob as if you hadn't been about to kiss his father. Andy raised an eyebrow at his son, irritated for interrupting. "Jacob, what're you doing?"

"I—" the boy frowned, forgetting momentarily on what he was doing. Jacob pointed at you, returning a random wave. "I was looking for her, because I got worried she fell in the toilet or something."

"She's fine, I was just sobering her up." Andy answered before you could, reluctantly helping you off the table, wishing he had a few more minutes alone with you. "Don't let your mom see all those bottles when she gets home. She won't be lenient as I am."

Jacob saluted in response, watching his dad help his best friend off the table. He was too drunk to notice the longing looks you had exchanged with Andy. "Okay, dad. Night."

Andy stood in the kitchen, alone, watching his girl giggle at something his son whispered. With more confidence than ever, he pulled out the manila envelope from the kitchen drawer, placing it on the table. Laurie would find it when she comes back.

—

Newton, MA - July 4, 2021

"You're so fat." Jacob commented, eyes widening when he felt the baby kick. Without much thought, he invaded your personal space, placing his cheek against your stomach. You sighed, rolling your eyes at your best friend. Jacob chuckled. "This little guy is gonna be a soccer superstar. Like Cristiano Ronaldo."

Andy chuckled from the driver's seat, pulling into the driveway, pulling Jacob off your stomach and back to his seat. "Don't antagonize her, Jake. She might rip your head off for breathing the same air without her permission."

Childishly, you stuck your tongue, making your baby daddy burst out laughing before as he turned off the car and opened the door. But you could hardly say his comment was an exaggeration, grimacing at the memory of nearly snapping Andy's arm off when he had forgotten the almond milk from the weekly visits to the grocery store. It had been both a blessing and curse to have Jacob in the outs of the pregnancy when that incident occurred. You hadn't wanted him to see the growing bump.

With the help of both Barbers, you got out of the car, carefully and slowly for the sake for both you and the babies. The two were chatting as they unloaded the baggage from trunk while you made your way to the house, reminiscing in the days when Jacob's glances weren't filled with betrayal, as if you had ripped his heart from his chest.

It wasn't everyday he looked at you with that raw emotion in his eyes—the betrayed looks had started to decrease the more time you spent together—yet you still felt guilty. With a hand over your growing belly, you opened the door, bombarded with memories from childhood, once again reminding you who you were having a baby with.

Once Jacob had sprinted out of the room, in anger and denial after seeing his father tangled in bed with his best friend, you had pushed Andy off you, wanting to go after him. When Andy argued it was better off for Jacob to be alone, you had blamed him for everything, for ruining the lifelong friendship with Jacob and weeks of stress caused by sleeping with him the first time. The lawyer hadn't denied the guilt or blame like you thought he would—like you wished he would—instead drowning in the insults you threw his way.

You didn't start to forgive him until Jacob came back, but then loathed him after the your best friend announced he needed some time and space to think it out, uncertain which conclusion he would come to. Thankfully, he couldn't live without you in his life, no matter how hard he tried, so he came running back, wishing for an apology when all you wanted to do was cry and wish you didn't have to spend two months without him.

Andy, like the charming bastard he is, had slowly broke down the wall of bricks made from your anger and hatred, and unwillingly, you let him in. Jacob had explained, quite awkwardly, he should be in no way a problem to yours and Andy's relationship, only to be slapped by the pregnancy news. Surprisingly, he kept it light and took it well.

Unsurprisingly to Andy, the fetus (he had been very upset when you occasionally called the baby that) had been conceived on Thanksgiving, proving the plan B useless. You had given up any pretenses at that point, and gave in to Andy's precautions no matter how ridiculous they had been; safety for the fetus.

Your parents had been content with the excuses you've made, only a little suspicious on not wanting to see them during the months of carrying the baby. The baby boy to be precise. But the lack of visiting since college was consistent enough for them to not rise suspicions.

You settled down on the couch, exhausted by the road trip despite how short it was. Newton was hardly small, but with Andy's former title, it wouldn't be long before rumors spread, and with rumors came exaggerated stories along with middle-aged women judging your life decisions because they had nothing to do all day other than sit in their lazy asses.

Andy and Jacob set the bags down by the doorway, Jacob letting out a huge sigh while his dad walked over to you, kissing your forehead. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture. He sat beside you, leaving no room to breathe.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Ugh." Jacob groaned, turning his eyes away from the PDA. "Okay, I'm gonna go before any more of this happens. I'll see you guys for dinner."

Before you could ask, Jacob closed the door, practically sprinting to his car. Seeing his father in bed with his best friend had scarred him. You turned your attention back to Andy, head tilting in confusion. "Where's he going?"

"He's giving me some alone time with you. Had to pay him a few bucks after he complained about stealing you, but he'll manage for the next couple of hours." Andy explained, his hands absentmindedly stroking your belly, his smile beaming.

"What's happening in the next couple of hours that he can't be here for?" you asked, curious. The blast of hormones had been a gift Andy knew he didn't deserve, with you crawling over his body in the earlier months of the pregnancy, waking him up with lips wrapped around his cock. With his precautions for the baby, he'd been a tease for the past few weeks with the due date just barely two months away.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. "It's not that, sweetheart." Andy chuckled at your pout, disappointed by the outcome. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

You knew there was something more, but you let it go, one thing at the front of your mind. Your fingers clawed at his shirt, biting your lip. "Then let's spend some time together." Leaning closer, you softly nipped at his earlobe, whispering in his ear. "Daddy."

Andy murmured your name, stern and sure but the bulge in his pants deemed a different story. That was enough for you to stop seducing him. "You're going to be the death of me."

Laughing, you turned the tv on, cuddling next to the soft man. Well, as close to cuddling as you could with the belly in the way. Your feet had been sore despite the not having to walk much all day, but the road trip had taken a lot of your already drained energy. Andy understood, gently taking off your shoes and massaging your feet until they no longer felt sore.

Two hours were wasted watching true crimes documentaries, Andy passionately commenting on the evidence they clearly had missed, and voicing his opinions of who was clearly guilty. You muffled a giggle, amused by the former lawyer. It still surprised you to see Andy so ... light? The forehead creases only coming together when something had displeased you, no matter how tiny. Retiring must've done something to relieve the stress he carried.

It wasn't until the third Buzzfeed Unsolved episode came on that you got tired. Andy, sending the change, muted the screen, pressing a soft kiss on your close eyelids. He positioned you so you were leaning against him, your back to him as you laid on the couch, a hand over your growing stomach. Anxiety seeped through his veins.

Andy cleared his throat. Playing with your hair, he said, "Marry me."

Your eyes snapped open, growing wide as you pondered if you had heard him right. "What?"

He shrugged. "Marry me."

Andy had said if so casually, it wasn't a question, but a statement. Or more accurately, a demand. You turned around, putting space between you two. Your eyes were hurting from the lack of blinking. "What?"

He reached in his pocket, the small, velvet box that had rested uncomfortably in his pocket took your breath away. Andy opened the box, revealing a diamond, far too beautiful to look at. His smile widened, taking in your shocked expression. "Please marry me."

A minute of silence passed.

"You're fucking insane." you whispered, staring intently at his blue eyes who were sparkling in excitement. He knew the outcome.

Andy's smile hadn't wavered. "Is that a yes?"

"No!" you shouted, getting up from the cough. He stood up, his arms ready to catch your unbalanced body. You glared at him. "I'm not going to marry you because I'm pregnant! No! No, no, no. I forbid you to ask me that question until this baby is out of me."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "So, when I ask in two months ... ?"

"You'll just have to see." you murmured. A smug smirk fell on his face, but this one was warmer, more heartfelt.

"You'll say yes."

You shrugged, but couldn't help the smile appearing. "Probably."

< previous

[naturallytom]

Mending a Broken Heart (Tom Holland x reader, alternative part)

a/n: me? writing? unheard of. jk im tryin to get back into the groove!! this is an alternate version to Mending a Broken Heart, so some parts are the same and some I’ve edited or added some things! hope u enjoy!! 

warnings: language, angst, mentions of cheating

please reblog/leave feedback!!

picture not mine!

You had noticed it for months. Tom has been pulling away, spending more time out with the boys than at home with you. His kisses became forced and the words ‘love you’ slowly stopped falling from his lips. 

Most days he would leave for work before you woke up and on the rare occasion you were up when he left, he would mumble a ‘goodbye’ before walking out the door. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he would press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Most times, though, he would just leave. 

You did your best to keep the love alive, you were still madly in love with him. The wedding band that sat tightly on your ring finger mocked you. A symbol of what was love has turned into one sided love. Hell, you weren’t sure if Tom wore his wedding ring anymore. 

A quick glance to his left hand would reveal that he didn’t. 

You spent your nights wondering if it was something you did. Were you too clingy when he left to film? Was he just tired of you after four years of marriage? Did he find someone else?

No. You shook your head to yourself one night as you laid in the bed by yourself, the space usually occupied by Tom cold. If he found someone else and if he cheated, that’s on him. Not on you. 

Still, the thought plagued your mind. Did he meet someone else? Was she prettier than you? Is that where he was when he said he was out with the boys? Was she able to give him something you couldn’t give him?

The door opening and shutting alerted you that Tom was home. You sighed, knowing it’d be another night of sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. 

The door to the bedroom opened and in came Tom, Tessa jumping up to greet him. 

“Hey girl, hey love, how are you, hm?” He whispered, petting Tessa as his eyes flickering over to you, who was visibly awake. “Thought you’d be asleep by now. ‘S late.” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied simply. “Hey so I was thinking, we haven’t had a date night in a while, maybe you wanted to go out to see the Halloween decorations around town and get dinner tomorrow night?” 

“Can’t,” He shook his head as he got ready for bed. “Harrison wants to watch the game. Told him I’d go.” 

“Didn’t you just see Harrison tonight?” 

“Yeah, and?” 

“Nothing.” You sighed, obviously upset. “Nothing, Tom. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” He responded, turning out the light and climbing into bed, falling asleep with his back toward you. 

-

The next day, you were surprised to see Tom already awake and waiting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea when you got downstairs. 

“Good morning.” You smiled softly. 

“We need to talk.” He told you. You felt your heart drop and your palms get sweaty, but you wiped them on your pajama pants in an effort to seem totally calm and not panicked. 

“A-About what?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky. 

“I think,” Tom started. “I think we should get divorced.” 

It was then, at 8:30 am that your world came crashing down. 

“W-What?” You whimpered out, your voice weaker than before. “Why?”

“I’m not happy with you anymore.” He said simply. Your eyes flickered to his left hand, noticing the absence of the golden wedding band, making your heart ache. 

“We can try couples’ therapy. We can go on dates like we used to, Tom, please! We can fight for this, Tom. Fight for us.” You cried, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, each one puncturing your lungs as you struggled to keep your breath under control. 

“No,” He shook his head. “My mind is made up. I’m sorry, y/n. Um, I found a lawyer at a firm, they have a lot of other lawyers there you can contact. I’ll just, uh, leave their card here.” 

“So that’s it? Three years of dating and four years of marriage down the drain?” You sobbed, holding your knees to your chest as you sat on the kitchen floor. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. Truly, I am.”

He placed the small business card on the counter, grabbing the bags you didn’t even notice, mumbling an ‘I’ll be staying with Haz,’ before walking out the front door, like he did every other day. This time, though, you had the sinking feeling he was leaving for good. 

-

It was only three weeks that your lawyer came over to meet with you, joined by Tom and his lawyer. You kept your eyes focused on the table as you signed the paperwork, wanting to get this done as soon as possible. 

As soon as everyone left, you shut the door, slid down the back of it, and cried. 

-

Nearly two months after the worst day of your life and it was time for a self care night. The ring that once sat on your left hand was buried away in your jewelry box somewhere and you were finally starting to feel free and somewhat happy again after crying yourself to sleep and wondering where it all went wrong for months. 

After the divorce you buried yourself in work, using it as a distraction from going home to an empty house. You also moved out of the house you once called home. Not only was it too painful to go home to an empty house, but it was too painful to go home to a house that held so many happy and loving memories. You took the necessities along with some things you wanted with you and set yourself up in a hotel room for the time being. You treated it as a vacation. Except only a few people knew where you were. Your family knew, along with your friends, including Harrison, on the condition he didn’t tell Tom where you were. You started making time for yourself in your little hotel room and you became happier. 

Tonight, after a long day of work, you ordered your favorite Chinese food, played your favorite songs, and ran yourself a bath with a vanilla scented bath bomb. You were enjoying a glass of wine, the hot water of the bath soothing you when the music playing from your phone was interrupted by a call coming in. 

To your surprise, it was Tom. You contemplated answering it, but instead, let it go to voicemail. However, you were curious as to why he called, though you were also 99% positive it was a pocket dial. So you played the voicemail, the familiar voice ringing throughout the bathroom. 

“Hey y/n, um, I hope you’re doing well. I just called because I wanted to tell you something. I um, I miss you. A lot. And I know I don’t get to feel that way but I do and I just wanted to tell you that and I guess ask if there was any possibility of meeting to talk? Uh, call me back if...if you want. I don’t blame you if you hate me. Bye. Love y-” 

You turned off the voicemail before the phrase could be finished. Millions of thoughts filled your mind, ranging from happy ones to ones that made your heart ache and tears fill your eyes. 

You decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened, and enjoy your self care night. 

-

When Tom pulled up to his former house with flowers in his car and a pit of nerves in his stomach, he expected to see your car in the driveway and at least one light to be on. He was greeted with an empty driveway and a dark house, which confused him. It was the weekend, so you weren’t work. Maybe you had to run an errand? 

But after 20 minutes, he gave up hope that you were home and tried to call you, which to no surprise, you didn’t pick up again. He instead called Harrison in an effort to try and find out if he knew where you were. 

“What do you want?” Harrison answered, half concentrating on what Tom was about to say and half concentrating on the game in front of him. 

“Do, uh, do you know where y/n is?” Tom asked, taking Harrison by surprise. 

“y/n?” Harrison paused the game, suddenly not able to concentrate on it. “Why d’you want to know where y/n is?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He mumbled. 

“If I knew that’s where you were going I wouldn’t have let you go.” Harrison sighed. “Listen she made me swear that I wouldn’t tell you-” 

“Please Harrison? You’ve seen how much of a mess I’ve been. I just want to see if I have a shot.” Tom begged, making his friend cave. 

“Fine but if she moves again I won’t be telling you shit.”  

-

The next day you were enjoying a cup of tea and reading your book, getting some relaxation in before your week began when a knock on the door interrupted you. Confusion filled your body, you weren’t expecting anyone to pop by. 

Looking out the peephole, you froze at the sight that greeted you. Tom was standing outside your door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. 

“Hi.” He breathed out, his nose and the tips of his ears red from the harsh winter air. 

“How the hell did you find me?” You asked, keeping your eyes focused on the ground. 

“Harrison. I begged him to tell me.” He answered. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” You muttered. “What do you want?”

“Can..Can I come in?” He asked. 

You wanted to say no, that he could say what he wanted to say outside or just not let him speak at all. But you wanted to be courteous to the other people on your floor and part of you was curious as to what he was going to say. So you wordlessly opened the door slightly, letting him in and closing the door behind him. 

“Now what do you want?”

“Did you get my voicemail?” He responded, hope filling his eyes when you nodded. “Um, I brought these for you. I was hoping we could talk.” 

“I don’t want your flowers. Why should I talk to you? We’re divorced, just like you wanted.” Tom winced at the words. “Nothing to change.” 

“Actually, we’re not.” He corrected. “I called the office the other day. Um, it’s not official yet.” 

“Well then they should make it official. Maybe I can call them and make it happen as my very last Christmas present to you. Just what you wanted.” You snapped. 

“No, this isn’t what I want, can I speak, please?” He pleaded, his eyes resembling those of a puppy. 

“You’re speaking already.” You answered, gesturing for him to continue nonetheless. 

“I- How have you been? I stopped by the house-”

“Tom I’m not gonna listen to your small talk. Say what you have to say and leave.” You told him. His heart broke but he couldn’t blame you. 

“Um, so I thought I wasn’t happy with you but um, as time went on, I realized how much I miss having you in my life.” He began, visibly nervous. “I was just looking through our pictures and how happy you looked and I just, I guess I realized I wanted to be the one to make you that happy again.”

“You haven’t made me happy in months, Tom.” 

“I know.” His heart clenched. “I know and I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.” 

“Was there someone else? Did you cheat on me?” You asked. 

“No, no absolutely not, y/n.” He answered before adding; “I went on a date with someone after we split up but it didn’t work out. I realized she wasn’t what I want.” 

“Of course she wasn’t.” You scoffed. 

“I want you, y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy again.” He told you, tears filling your eyes. “Is there..is there any possibility you could love me again?” 

“Again?” You seethed. “Tom I never fell out of love with you! I never stopped loving you! That was all you! You stopped loving me and you wanted this stupid fucking divorce!”

“I..I don’t think I ever stopped loving you either.” He whispered, tears falling down his rosy cheeks. “Please, y/n, if there’s even the tiniest chance..” 

“Of what, Tom? Of going right back to being married? Of you making me happy? I don’t know, Tom! I don’t know anything except that I hate you right now.” You sobbed, crying into your knees while Tom let out quiet sobs of his own, his heart clenching at the lack of wedding band on your left hand and the lack of love in your voice, but especially your eyes. Your eyes, which once held so much love and adoration for him were now full of anger and resentment. 

“Of..anything, y/n. Please, I just want a second chance to show you how much you mean to me, to make you happy again. I will do anything to save us, anything you want. And...and if it’s not working or you just really hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. Not at all.” He begged, his eyes puffy and red. 

“I tried to save us, Tom. Don’t you remember? I begged and pleaded with you to do couples therapy to go on dates when you were breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces. I begged you to try and fight for us, for our marriage, but you just walked out the god damn door!” You spit through gritted teeth. 

“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so badly.” He cried, wiping his tears away. 

“And if leaving me wasn’t enough, you took Tessa too! I was left completely alone in that big fucking house that was haunted by you. I couldn’t stand it.” You sobbed. 

“I’m..I’m sorry, y/n. So so fucking sorry. What do you want me to do?” 

“I want...I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way you hurt me. I want you to know how this fucking feels.” You said, your voice getting louder with each word that fell from your lips.

Tom could only cry. This was ripping him apart, he couldn’t even imagine what the whole thing felt like to you. 

“I’m gonna need time to think, Tom.” You finally mumbled, Tom nodding in response. 

“I’ll give you all the time you need. I promise you-” 

“Don’t. Don’t promise me anything.” You spoke, your voice low. “You won’t be able to keep it. You promised you’d love me forever four years ago and look what happened.” 

“y/n pl-”

“You don’t get to do this. You-you don’t get to just waltz right back in here and ask for a second chance to fight for us when I didn’t even get a first chance. How do I know this won’t end like it did before?” 

“y/n, I swear to you, if this isn’t working out, you can leave me. I...I just want a chance to prove myself to you.” He begged. 

“God, Tom. You don’t get it! I’m not going through this again. Do you realize how much you broke me the first time? Fuck, you had a chance, Tom. And you threw it away.” You muttered quietly. 

“I regret that every day. Every god damn day.” He told you honestly.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You sighed. 

“Talk to me?” He tried, knowing you were hiding something deeper than an ‘I don’t know.’

“Don’t know what else there is to say.” You mumbled. “I don’t trust you, I-I can’t trust you. I hate you.” 

“Why’d you get a hotel room?” Tom sniffled, changing the subject. 

“I told you. I hated being in that house. Hated being surrounded by the happy pictures and memories of us.” You told him honestly. “I want to start over.” 

“What?”

“I want to start over. I can’t go back to being emotionally married to you even if we’ll still be married legally. I’m talking starting from scratch, as if we were meeting for the first time, the whole deal.” You told him. 

“That sounds perfect, y/n. Thank y-”

“Get out, Tom. Please. I just want to be alone and not with you right now. I’m still not happy with you.” 

“Okay.” He breathed out, hope filling him once again. “You won’t regret this, I promise.” 

“What did I just say about promises?” You asked tearily. 

“I know, I know. I’m determined to keep this promise, though.” He told you. 

“Fine. Whatever. Just please leave for now.” You whimpered, watching as he walked out the door, just like he did when he broke your heart. 

You decided you needed another self care night. Another bath was run, another vanilla scented bath bomb was used, more wine was consumed. 

Tom texted you right as you got out of the bath. 

Tom: hey y/n, it’s tom, just incase you don’t have my number saved anymore. I just wanted to say thank you for the second chance. I really am grateful. I hope you have a relaxing night, you deserve it. 

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone gently on your bed, though you could feel your heart rate pick up and butterflies fill your stomach. 

-

Tom began texting you sweet little things each morning, whether it was to let you know that he’s been thinking of you or to tell you that he hopes you have a great day. At first you ignored them, but then you began responding in short answers of one or two words until the two of you were texting every day, like when you met for the first time seven years ago. 

-

Over a month after you started texting again, Tom took you on a first date. Pulling up to your hotel, Tom felt the nerves fill his body as he walked up to your door and knocked, another bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. 

He felt all the air leave his lungs as you opened the door. You looked absolute stunning. You were wearing a navy blue dress that reached down to just above your knees, one Tom bought you one year. 

“Wow, hi.” He breathed. “You look stunning.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, accepting the flowers he handed you. “I’ll be right back.” 

Tom took you to your favorite restaurant that night, one that the two of you frequented when you (formerly) went on dates. 

When he took you back to your hotel, he walked you up to the door, where he nervously asked if he could kiss you. 

You said yes, and that was all Tom needed to press a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss was magical, both of you felt the sparks between the two of you. 

“God I missed doing that.” Tom mumbled as he pulled away to breathe. 

“Then do it again.” 

-

A couple months after that, Tom moved back in with you. You had gone back to the house every now and then, to slowly acclimate yourself to being back in the once happy house, only fully moving back when Tom moved back as well. The pictures of the two of you were dusted off, making your heart race instead of hurt at the sight of the happy memories. 

-

Finally, after a year, Tom proposed to you (again). You hesitated a little bit, still scared it would end in heartbreak again, which broke Tom’s heart, but said you yes in the end. 

The two of you renewed your vows, putting on the golden bands that were once again a symbol of the love the two of you shared. 

You had a small party back at your house after the ceremony, your families joining to celebrate. You found Tom alone in the kitchen, grabbing a beer for him and Harry. 

“Hey.” You greeted, fiddling with your fingers as tears of happiness filled your eyes. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, my love?” Tom asked, concerned as soon he saw the tears filling your eyes. 

“Nothing, nothing. I, um,” You started, wiping your tears away and wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “I’m really glad we made it back to this.” 

“Me too, lovey. I love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, Tommy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You kept your promise.” You smiled softly, making Tom’s heart ache at the memory of you not being able to trust him. 

“I told you I would.” 

Your moment was interrupted by Harrison, who entered the kitchen, smiling at his two best friends happily in love once again. 

“Aren’t you so glad I told him where you were staying?” He joked, making you roll your eyes. 

“Shut up, Harrison.” You smiled. As your eyes flickered between Tom and Harrison, though, you knew you wouldn’t have been in this position if Harrison didn’t spill the beans to Tom. 

“Hey Haz?” You called, as Harrison went to leave the kitchen in fake offense. He turned at the sound of his name, knowing what was coming. 

“Thank you.” Tom nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. 

Harrison just smiled even bigger, all three of you knowing everything would be okay from now on.

[technicallymilkshakes]

Reciprocal ❂ (M) || 2 of 2

A Manager!verse story Rating: Mature Genre(s): Fluff, Smut Pairing: Jongin x Reader Word Count: 3.8k Warning for sexual content. 

<< Previous Chapter

Jongin had let go of your hand when the two of you reached the house, but he made up for it by spending the next few hours in easy conversation with you. You talked about everything and anything, from speculation on the relationships between the other managers to childhood aspirations. Jongin had long entertained dreams of dancing. No surprise there. But it had come as quite a shock to him to learn you had competitively speed skated and almost entered Taereung.

“Why'd you stop,” he asked. The two of you were sitting on the back patio nursing glasses of water.

“I sprained my ankle earlier in the year and spent a lot of the time hanging out with friends when I normally would've had practice. I didn't really miss it.

“Plus, I had a boyfriend,” you said with a little smile and reclined back in your chair.

“Ahhh,” Jongin responded. “So that's why.” He shot a you look. “You've never talked about dating before,” he said.

“It never felt like... It just didn't come up.” You'd had a few relationships over the last 5 years, but had never divulged that to him. You had done your best to maintain a certain professional distance. They'd never amounted to much anyways, either due to inattention, jealousy, or lack of passion. But it was hypocritical, wasn't it, when  you were aware of every relationship Jongin had had? He was the person you spent the most time with, unintentionally or not.

“There's nothing to even bring up now anyways,” you added softly.

Jongin hummed and was quiet for a long time. You bit your lip. Why'd you even bring that last bit up? You kept glancing at him, but you couldn't get a read on his expression.

But Jongin turned suddenly, a smile on his lips, and changed the topics. “So, are the managers planning anything for Chanyeol's enlistment?”

You relaxed tentatively into the question. Soon, the tension dispersed, forgotten, and by the end of the conversations your mood had lightened considerably. For the first time, you really felt as if this was a vacation to enjoy rather than a detox to suffer through.

**

Dinner that night was a spirited affair. While Jongin showered before the meal, you busied yourself with setting places. You had pushed the coffee table closer to the fire and arranged pillows around it. A bottle of cab was open on the table to breathe.

Just as you set the glasses down, Jongin emerged from his room. His hair was still damp, you noticed, and his skin had the flush of the freshly bathed. He was in his pajamas, a towel bunched around his neck, sleep shirt unbuttoned and pants hanging low on his hips.

Your heart must have convulsed. Briskly, you turned away and gathered the plates of bœuf bourguignon with a white-knuckled grip. “Dinner's ready,” you called over your shoulder.

“This is cozy,” he remarked. You heard the rustle of fabric as he settled into the pillows.

Heaven help you, you prayed.

**

Over the course of dinner, the two of you finished the bottle. Jongin sat next to you now, having migrated from the opposite side of the table at some point in the meal. The two of you were laughing because your arms kept getting in each other's ways as you ate—he was a righty to your lefty. Eventually, Jongin got so exasperated, he grabbed your spoon and slid it out of reach. He refused to give it back, so he fed you from his spoon the rest of the meal. The fire cackled merrily at your antics.

You were pleasantly tipsy, your tongue looser with wine. Jongin was stretched out, leaning back on the couch. He had taken his shirt off entirely, claiming he was hot. You leaned against his shoulder, felt the sticky press of his skin against your cheek. You were warm and full. It had been such a strange day, full of quiet intimacies you'd never shared. Maybe that's why you said what you said, why you did what you did.

“You're intimidating, Mr. Kim Jongin.”

Jongin glanced at you, surprise written across his face.

“You're a beautiful person.” You closed your eyes and extended an arm. “Your body, your dance, your personality. You know what they say?”

You lifted yourself onto your knees, moving your face close to his.

“You're a god,” you whispered next to his ear.

You felt him shudder.

“What are you saying? I'm not--”

“Shut up,” you breathed. “Let me say this.”

“You're a god, Kim Jongin.” You rested one sacrilegious palm against his cheek “So tell me, how could a mere human like me adore you?”

Jongin was the one who closed the distance, who captured your lips in a searing kiss. His eyes were burning when he pulled away, his hands hot against your waist.

“Didn't I tell you that it's you who I need?” he whispered against your lips. “Let me show you how much I worship you.”

**

A trail of clothes puddled on the floor in the wake of your passing. Jongin stalked behind as you led him into the palatial bathroom. He didn't touch you. He watched as the clothing slid off you, lazily following your movements. He kept watching as you stepped into the shower, fully naked in front of now, and let the water sluice across your body.

He slid out of his pajama pants. He hadn't bothered with boxers. You saw the length of him, untouched yet already half-hard.

His eyes roamed over you. The attention made your insides twist pleasantly. Your previous partners had been good enough to satisfy, but Jongin made you feel wanted. You ran your hands down your body just to see if his gaze followed.

It did.

He waited until you stepped out of the shower, dripping water all over the dark stone tiles as you crossed to the crown of the bathroom.

Inset in the floor was an onsen-style bath as big as a pool. The bath itself was made of cedar, deep enough for water to reach your hips when standing, with a bench that ran around the inner rim for soaking. Panoramic windows surrounded the bath, but darkness kept secret the view.

Jongin stepped into the bath ahead of you. You met him in the middle, steam curling around you. You lifted your hand above his collarbone, trailing water all over his chest.

Something would change, more than it had already, if you touched him. Some illusion, some safety net you'd built. The nearness of his body was scalding, hotter than the water, and you knew it would burn.

Jongin curled his hands into yours, fitting his fingers into the spaces between.

“Still here?” he asked, kind and sweet as he always was.

You squeezed his hands and nodded. You'd promised. He wouldn't get rid of you that easily.

He led you to the ledge and sat, pulling you closer. You perched over his lap until his hands drew you down. You felt his hardness between your legs and quivered. It had been such a long time since you had done this.

“Are you okay with this?” Your voice wavered along with the steam. Even with you naked on his lap, Jongin kept his hands confined to innocent places. He was focused on kissing your neck and jaw.

He pulled away, a look like drowsiness in his eyes.

“I'm okay with anything. Whatever you want to do.”

You slowly nodded and rested your forehead against his. You let your hands slide down his shoulders, thumbs dipping into the indent of his collarbones. He lifted his head and you obliged him with long, luxurious kisses.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, voice gravelly.

“Yeah.”

He thanked you with another kiss, caressing the line of your spine. His hands disappeared from your body then reappeared on your thighs. He squeezed. You felt his shudder and heard the tiniest groan fall out of him. And, oh, you needed him to make that noise again. Your hands grazed the skin of his stomach and traveled lower. You felt the flex of his muscles. Jongin caught your eyes, the way you waited for a moment until you found the permission you'd been seeking.

You wrapped your hands around his erection. The water obscured your view, but he was hard in your hand as you slowly stroked him with a velvet grip. His jaw fell open and he rolled his hips into your hand.

An ache built in you. Jongin set his jaw mulishly, a challenging glint entering his eyes. You gasped at the first brush of his fingers against you. They slid silkily against you, leaving soft whorls of water in their absence. You ground down against him, pinning his hand against his thigh, patience abandoned. Jongin bent, kissing the tops of your breasts, using his thumb to sweep over your nipples. You slid a hand into the hair at the base of his neck and tugged.

His gaze meeting yours was a thunderclap.

“I—Jongin...”

He knew without having to say anything more. He readjusted himself and you leaned on him as you sank down and let him enter you.

You rode him slow. You felt your eyes hood, and your head sank back. Water dripped from the ends of your hair, and you opened your mouth and moaned. Pleasure sizzled along every nerve, radiating outward from your navel to the tip of your toes and the roots of your hair. Jongin pressed his thumb into your bottom lip. It glided slickly between your lips. You opened your mouth, taking it between your teeth. You dragged your hands down his chest, feeling the flex of his muscles.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. Your eyelashes fluttered closed. “The sight of you, and oh, the way you feel around me. How couldn't you have known what you to do to me?” You moaned and he echoed you, his hips twitching up. His hands slid up your back before dipping back below the surface. He cupped them there, then brought them up to pour water down your neck and chest. His tongued followed their path.

“I want to make you forget everything except me,” he said hoarsely.

“I like the sound of that,” you said breathlessly. “Okay, rookie. Show me what you can do.”

He grinned, pulling you into a kiss. “Better hang on,” he murmured against you. He stroked lightly down your sides. You twitched away; you'd never realized you were so sensitive there, and his devilish smile proved he knew it. He planted himself and started rocking into you, rhythm tortuously slow. He'd hold himself still at points, long enough for you to despair that you'd ever find release. After four times, you begged for mercy.

Heavy, humid panting soon filled the room. The water lapped against the sides of the bath and over.  You buried your face against his shoulder at one point, too overcome with the fact that this was Jongin that you were doing this with, that his cock was inside you. You'd never had such a patient, attentive lover, never had such appreciation lavished upon you. It was just on the edge of enough and yet so far from it. He kissed the inside of your elbow, gave it a kittenish lick.

He got his arms under your thighs and stood. You felt him slide deeper into you and whimpered, wrapping your legs around him. Never had you appreciated the work he put into his body so much as now, feeling his muscles gather and relax as he drove himself into you. You heard his little grunts as he bounced you on his cock, and felt the overwhelming sensation of him all around you.

“I—I'm gonna...” Your teeth were chattering. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stave off orgasm.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I've got you.”

You cried out, arching as you came, Jongin's hands against your back the only thing preventing you from slipping backwards into the water.

He held you there until your muscles trembled and you began to slide down. His dick slipped out of you, sandwiched between your bellies until he sat you on the edge of the pool. You were winded, a pile of mush. He was flushed with exertion. You brushed his fringe away—the humidity and his sweat had left it in cute little curlicues.  

Like a compass orienting northwards, your eyes sought his. Temptation lingered in the spaces between your bodies. You read the hunger in him, in the way his stare dropped to your lips and flicked back, desire simmering darkly there. It sucked the air from your lungs, drew lips to lips to devour all of you. Teeth bit, tongues curled. You wrapped your hands around his bicep, anything to ground you.

Kissing Jongin was like kissing a storm; in him was a wildness held 6,000 feet at bay. His bites ended in kisses, tongue laving away the hurt. Tomorrow, you knew you would wake to tender bruises blooming on your skin and you relished it. When finally he pulled away, your back was flush against the floor, his arms bracketing either side of your head as you stared up at him. Your heart learned the rhythms of war—what dread god had you summoned?

His lips, red and wet from your mouth, trailed down your neck. Goosebumps had risen all over your body as water evaporated from your skin, but Jongin's mouth seared you. He skimmed down your breastbone and planted fervent kisses to your stomach, your hips, lower and lower.

He drove you wild, made you writhe. His touch was so cold it burned, so hot it froze. Your body was locked between fight and flight and your pleading noises seemed only to incense him. His fingers delved into you and discovered places that made your toes curl, his tongue hot against your folds. His free arm locked over your hips to prevent you from bucking. The squelch of wetness echoed in the room, and you covered your eyes, burning at your own wantonness.

“I love this,” Jongin growled. “Making you come apart.”

Your thighs slammed shut, locking his hand in place as you plunged into climax. Your hearing went out, and in its aftershock a high-pitched note rang in your ears. Distantly, you heard a muttered curse, heard the rhythmic grunts of Jongin as he came before you were lost to the wave of secondhand arousal. I wish I could've seen it, you thought faintly.

When you came to, Jongin was massaging your legs. His hands skated dangerously high up your inner thighs, stoking the embers of your pleasure. “Stop that,” you complained, kicking him weakly in the shoulder.

He grinned, bending over you to place a tender kiss between your eyebrows. “Whatever you say, my little human.”

You ignored the pet name. Your chest still heaved for air. “What... what about you?”

He gestured at himself, at his flagging erection. “You did me in,” he said with a wry grin. “The sight of you...” His eyes shuttered as if he was recalling the scene. The interested twitch his dick gave was more than enough to finish that sentence.

**

The two of you shared a shower, motions brisk and economical. Well, his at least. Jongin wound up wrapping you in a heated towel, arms and all, because your hands wouldn't stop wandering.

“I told you, didn't I?” he had reproached you. “Let me take care of you.”

He dried your hair and offered you the top of his pajama set to wear, blush burning on his cheeks. Maybe a less flummoxed you would have commented on the stark dichotomy between now and a few minutes ago, but the words never materialized. The two of you brushed your teeth side by side, sharing the shy smiles of a newly intimate couple. You kept giggling at each other for no reason at all.

Between the events of the day and the man beside you, you didn't expect to get much sleep that night. But you fell into a gentle, easy dreams, cradled in Jongin's arms with not an inch between you.

**

Morning gilded him in gold. Sleep crusted his eyes, his hair was disastrous, and if that wasn't the most perfect sight you'd seen, you didn't know what could be.

He smiled sleepily, eyes closed.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes and sat up.

“Admit it, you can't even see what I look like right now.”

He squinted at you. “Amazing in every single way?” he offered, with a hopeful smile.

You grabbed a pillow and bonked him with it. He rolled away, laughing his dorky little laugh. You were glad he couldn't see your smile.

**

Jongin was a hoverer, you learned. He had a habit of floating about your vicinity like a lost puppy. It was particularly noticeable when you were cooking. You seemed to find him in your path at every turn, or you would feel a gentle tug as you moved away and twist to see him holding the hem of your shirt with a pout.

The best way to deal with it, you soon discovered, was to pay him attention. Telling him to cut this or stir that worked, but he especially liked being fed. You would feed him extra little bits of ingredients and press them to his open mouth. He'd close his lips around your finger and you'd feel the soft, inner parts of it as you slid your finger back out.

“How was it?” you would ask softly each time.

“Mmmh. Delicious,” he'd answer with a wicked grin.

**

No good deed could go unpaid. You reciprocated the next day on your knees, Jongin laid out on a sun-lounger beneath you on the terrace. You took him into your mouth, took him as far down as your throat would allow. He trembled below you, eyes wide and watching. His adam's apple bobbed as you swallowed around him, lips parting.

You'd been at it for the past twenty minutes, swapping out your mouth for your hands when your jaw got too tired.

“Do you know how many people would kill to have you under them like this?” you said with wonder. You waited until Jongin opened his eyes, still glazed with pleasure. You placed your hand loosely against his neck, felt his hummingbird pulse in your fingertips. “But only I get to do this.” You tightened your grip and gave quick, short strokes around the crown of his cock. He choked out a gasp, jerking, every muscle of his clenching.

Jongin was such a vocal lover. You felt a powerful and infinite kind of tenderness for him.

“You're doing so well.” His breath fell heavily, a tell-tale quickness to it. His thrusts became erratic.

“Please,” he gasped. “Please.”

You kissed the words from his lips. “Yes, yes,” you whispered. “Anything for you. So good. So proud of you.”

“Uuuuuuh,” he groaned as his orgasm ripped through him. Long ribbons of come landed on his chest, where they glistened in the warm spring sun. His thighs quivered, hips lifting off the lounger as you continued to milk him. Come glazed your hand and dribbled from the slit of his cock.

Greed whet your appetite and desire pooled in your belly. Jongin cried as you took him back in your mouth, hands reaching for you, until your tongue, your lips, your hands coaxed a second orgasm from him. His come pooled, salty and intense, in your mouth. He watched with dilated eyes, little debauched noises trembling off each exhale, as you made a show of swallowing.

**

The last days of your vacation ran themselves down. On the final evening, the two lay entangled on the couch in front of the fireplace, talking.

“Am I easy to manage?”

“You?” you laughed. “No way.”

“What? Yes I am! I'm super easy to manage!” He actually looked a little upset. “Aren't I?”

You couldn't help laughing. “I don't think you get to say that. But it's not your personality,” you reassured him. “It's your perfectionism. I admire it, but honestly? Sometimes it's a pain in my ass.”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, you can be a pain in my neck sometimes, too, you know.”

You felt your eyebrows creeping up. “Yeah? How.”

“When you wake me up, when you make me drink chicken smoothies, when you take bad photos of me for Instagram...” He ticked them off his fingers one by one.

“Bad?!” You pinched his side, eliciting a little squeal. “You told me they were cute!”

“Because they're so bad!” He laughed his ridiculous laugh, fending your hands off.

The two of you rolled off the couch and onto the floor from your tussling. Jongin turned onto his side, small hiccuping laughs still spilling from him. Unwilling to be bested, you pulled your phone off the coffee table. “I'll show you bad. I studied photography, you know.”

“Where?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Doesn't matter. I let my work speak for itself.”

Jongin snorted.

You knelt above him, angling your phone down at him. He was so effortlessly photogenic, he could lie there with four days worth of stubble, chapped lips, shirt ridden half way up, and still look right off the cover of Vogue. The shutter clicked, and Jongin instinctively moved, expression changing minutely.

“These look good, you'll see,” you murmured, drawn into the familiar world of work, of seeing the unreachable him from behind a screen.

But instead of waiting, he pulled you down. You fell into him with an oomph, and he rolled you over until you were snug against his body, his left arm under you with his hand curled around your shoulder. He hummed while he scrolled through your gallery. This, as in all things, Jongin was methodical with. “Not bad,” he acquiesced, “but here. My turn.”

He opened the camera app and flipped to the front-facing camera. You watched on the screen as his head tilted towards yours and felt the brush of his hair against yours. Your heart raced.

“No need to be nervous.” You were watching him on the screen as he whispered it, saw the curve of his lips as they ghosted over the shell of your ear, felt the words land as breath against you. He knew you were watching him. A thrill went up your spine.

“I like it better when you're with me.”

**

Back in Seoul, a picture hangs on your refrigerator.

A polaroid of Jongin folded around you, kissing the crown of your head with a smile. The moment catches you with your eyes closed, clutching onto him and laughing.

An offering for the memory collector and the date is scrawled along the bottom, for the dream of many more.

___________________________

A/N: I kept my promise. :) 

Thank you for reading!

[ ❂ Read more Manager!verse here ]

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (7)

all parts in the master list

Minimal editing. Also hit me with some predictions for the end of this and also any thoughts at all about it. Is it trash, is it good? I am curious about what you think!

--

Matthew didn’t usually drink much during their time away from home. If the Flames won, he’d usually have a beer or two to celebrate and that was it. This past week had him consuming more alcohol than he had in a long time and he had no idea why.

The roommate situation put him on edge the moment he found out who he was going to be staying with and his mood soured even more when he discovered they’d have to share a bed so maybe that was why he was taking shots and downing beers like he was on summer vacation. 

He remembered bits and pieces of the previous night: she kissed him and then disappeared, he continued to take shots long after she’d gone, they had a conversation about moms in their hotel room. 

That was it though. He had no recollection of changing into his pajamas and crawling into bed. When his alarm went off, he woke up in bed alone and as he surveyed the room, he realized all her stuff was gone. 

Sure, they were going home today but damn, she must have really wanted to get the fuck away from him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it might have hurt his feelings a little bit so he pushed the thought away and began to get ready for the day.

*

The feeling of peace you got when you quietly closed the door behind you and wheeled your luggage away from the room you shared with Matthew Tkachuk was incredible. 

The past week had been a roller coaster that you were dying to get off of and all you had to do was get through this last game and the bus ride home. That would be easy though, you’d have no interaction with Matthew during the game and you knew damn well he would rather cling to the top of the escape hatch on the bus rather than sit next to you. 

It was finally over. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of sitting down in your apartment, by yourself, with a bottle of wine, Netflix and Chinese takeout. 

You watched as the Flames won the game and as much as you didn’t want to notice it, you did. Matthew was playing like shit, barely dragging himself around the ice as he tried to keep up with his teammates. His personal play was entirely unremarkable and you were sure he was going to hear all about it as soon he got to the locker room. 

“How happy are you to be free of Tkachuk?” 

“So fucking happy, you’ve got no idea!” 

You laughed along with another of the assistants as the two of you helped organize the remaining luggage for the driver to load beneath the bus. 

“He played like shit today, might be bummed you two aren’t going to keep sleeping together.”

“Oh, don’t even. ‘Sleeping together’ implies something entirely different that what we were forced to do.”

“I know, I know,” he shook his head and laughed easily, “but honestly, did you think about it? I know you two aren’t exactly besties but come on, look at the man.” 

Did you think about it?

Of course you did. You thought about it multiple times. Matthew had stripped down in front of you, once completely and another time almost there. There was no denying that you’d gone to bed at least once thinking about what it would be like to spend the night enjoying yourself underneath him instead of sleeping next to his grumpy ass. 

You were taking that shit to the fucking grave, though.

“He’s a complete prick, and I don’t know if you heard, but I slept on the floor a few days ago, so no. I wouldn’t fuck that man with your dick.” 

That response sent him into a fit of laughter, “I mean I get that it was a rough week for you but I’ll be honest, I respectfully disagree. That pest could fucking get it anytime he wanted.” 

“Gross,” you playfully rolled your eyes as the two of you finished your task, “spend a few hours with him not in a strictly hockey setting and I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“Doubtful!” 

When all the luggage was loaded, the two of you made your way onto the bus. None of the players were there yet so you both took advantage of the back two rows that only contained two seats each. The entirety of the team didn’t completely fill the bus so you, stupidly, assumed you would sit alone on the trip home. 

Shoving your AirPods into your ears, you opened Spotify and settled into both the uncomfortable bus seat and the several hours long trip home. 

Not even ten minutes later, a body dropping into the seat next to you pulled your concentration out of your music and when you looked to see who it was that sat next to you, you couldn’t yourself from rolling your eyes. 

Matthew Tkachuk gave you a tight smile before rummaging around through his book bag and producing a paperback book. 

No he wasn’t. There was no way he was reading that. Dumb hockey bros weren’t into high fantasy. There was no fucking way he was reading ‘A Game of Thrones.’

He was though, and you watched him like a hawk as he parted the book where his mark was placed, almost halfway through, before you felt like you had to say something.

“You’re legitimately reading that book,” you pulled out an AirPod and gave him an inquiring look, “really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I loved the show, figured I’d give the books a try.”

“They’re really good, much better than the show in my opinion.” 

Matthew’s smile stretched across his face, “that’s what I’m thinking! I know I’m barely into it but the books are so much more detailed.”

It was a cute moment, the two of you sharing an interest, but you were determined to remain all business with him.

“Why’d you sit here?” 

“I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his curls, “why not?”

A quick silence formed between the two of you before he tried again, “what are you listening to?” 

“Uh, Bring Me The Horizon, you probably won’t like it.” 

“Try me.” 

Matthew handed you his phone and you opened up his Spotify account and typed in the song you were listening to. 

“So the band is Bring Me The Horizon, right? What’s the song called?” 

“Sugar honey ice & tea.” 

“Okay.” 

++

You settled into a comfortable flow with Matthew. One of your pods was in his ear as he read AGOT and listened to the whatever you were playing. He didn’t mind when you fell asleep on his shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he continued reading his book. 

“Hey,” he was gentle, “wake up. We’re home.”

“What?” 

“We’re back in Calgary.”

“Oh, okay.” 

“Are you good?” 

“Yeah, I just, yeah. Can you ask someone if they wouldn’t mind taking me home? My car’s here but I’m so fucking tired.”

“I can take you home.”

“Matthew, no, you cant. You need to rest. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’ll get an Uber or something.” 

“No.”

He was firm in his response. Your eyes were heavy with sleep and you were in no condition to do anything on your own. 

“Whatever, I don’t want to fight with you, dickface.”

Matthew chuckled to himself as he guided you into the parking garage toward his car. You let him open the passenger door and help you into the Audi. 

“What’s your address?” 

You mumbled it quickly, earning a smile and a “we live in the same building” declaration from him. 

Far too sleepy to notice anything around you, you nodded in and out of sleep as Matthew drove from the area to your building. His quick glances in your direction were lost on you and it was only when he was trying to get you out of the car that you really woke up. 

“Fuck, Matt, I’m so sorry. I’m just so exhausted.” 

“I get it,” he helped you get your bags out of his trunk, “you didn’t have a great week and I had a lot to do with that.” 

The two of you headed up to your second floor apartment in silence, you trudging up the stairs with little effort while Matthew followed you, making sure you didn’t fall. 

“This is me. Where are you?” 

“Oh, uh,” his cheeks lit up red as his eyes traveled toward the ceiling.

“Of course, superstar Matty Tkachuk lives in the penthouse on the top floor,” you teased, “if only we could all be so lucky.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your apartment,” he slid around you let himself in as soon as you opened the door and surveyed his surroundings, “I really like it.” 

*

He didn’t expect her place to be so cute, but it was and he smiled wide when her black cat rubbed against his legs.

“He’s called Onyx.”

“I like him,” Matthew leaned down to scratch his ears, “who takes care of him when you’re gone?” 

“My neighbor. She’s a sweet lady.”

“I’m glad."

“I’m sure this is peasant shit compared to your place, but we do what we can.” 

He stopped petting Onyx and looked up to meet her eyes. 

“I would never think that about anyone. Jesus Christ, do you really think I’m that much of a fucking asshole?”

She didn’t say anything, but her face turned beet red and she turned away from him before turning back again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so used to you being awful that any small morsel of kindness is unfamiliar. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You should sleep though.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He paused for a moment before breaking out in a big grin, “can I take Onyx up with me?”

“Absolutely not! Onyx is a heathen like the rest of us on the lower floors!”

“He deserves 360 degree views of Calgary.” 

You paused, turning to look directly at Matthew.

“Do you have that?”

“Yeah.” 

“I am so fucking jealous.” 

“You can come up and see too, as long as you bring Onyx.”

“As much as I don’t like you, I’m absolutely going to take you up on that, Matthew.”

He hated ‘Matthew’ and she knew it. He had tried to correct her a few times but she wasn’t budging. He wasn’t going to argue now, though, because she was adorable standing in her own apartment with her cute cat rubbing against her legs and—No. No, no, no. Matthew did not like this girl because this girl was fucking terrible and she hated him.

Except, he did like her and she was the opposite of terrible and she had an adorable cat. 

What the fuck was he doing?

[thathelplesshomeschooler]

humans are space orcs (with magic!) *skillz to pay the billz pt 1*

5wow i have been gone for a hot minute but i think i’m gonna tryn write more on here, but school’s starting up again soon so we’ll see how that actually goes. anyway, without further ado, here is another short story or sum, based on how some people can cook, and how some absolutely cannot

also i had to resist so hard from writing that’s what she said at the end so i will have to console myself with writing it up here.

***

The VIV Narrtor was docked at a WayCenter Station for repairs after a gamma burst from a neutron star had fried nearly all the sensors. As it was the humans had decided to designated this as their “vacation” and had put their money together and were renting a small abode for the duration of the repairs. Not wanting to miss out on any possible research, Drerzii had insisted that he and Tygeria rent the room across the street from the humans. 

And so Tygeria found herself the windowsill with a pair of “binoculars” as the humans called it, in her hand. Currently the humans weren’t doing much, in fact it appeared that only one of them was up and active. Uhris, clad only in his undergarments, was in the sustenance preparation room, making ready the pot of dark, steaming liquid that the humans drank every morning. She and Drerzii had suspected it to be either some sort of religious ceremony or a necessity of their species, much like how the dular always had to eat from a plant native to their planet before they ate anything else or they would die. However, neither of them had mustered the courage to ask the humans. If it was indeed a private matter, it might not be appreciated if they suspected they were being studied so thoroughly. And an angry human was not something Tygeria wanted to see. 

As she observed, the rest of the humans slowly arose from their slumber, except for Taurus. Being the largest of them all, Tygeria suspected that he likely needed more rest than the rest of them in order to move his mass around. She noted her thoughts on a holotablet. 

When she resumed her observations, she noted that Uhris was preparing sustenance, and quite a large amount. He must be feeding the entire group. It was strange she thought, since his records didn’t indicate that he had been trained in sustenance preparation, but he seemed quite adept in his actions. Perhaps he had trained in secret, hoping one day to be employed as a sustenance prepare. These “chefs” apparently were quite coveted in any group. 

The group spent most of the morning hours indoors, but what they were doing exactly Tygeria couldn’t say exactly. They were certainly enjoying themselves at the very least. Around midday Uhris and Enara walked out of the building. Tygeria leaned forward, her interested piqued. “Drerzii, Drerzii! They’re headed this way.” Her carapace tingled with mixed fear and excitement. They’d been found out. Surely the humans would be angry at being spied on. Drerzii rose from his resting state. 

“My dear Tygeria, you surely must be mistaken. The humans-” He stopped as he peered out the window, “Oh. You’re quite right Tygeria. But do calm yourself, I doubt they mean us any harm. Likely their simply curious. Their species’ natural inclement is towards curiosity rather than violence; however, I suppose we should be prepared. There, I have a clear line of communication to command should anything happen.” 

Tygeria appreciated his actions, but her carapace still tingled. A minute later there was a knock on the door. She walked quickly across the room and opened the door. Uhris and Enara stood in the entryway. 

Uhris switched his hand from scratching the back of his head to giving them a little wave. “Uh hey. Anne pointed out that you guys were staying across the street from us, and we all agreed that we couldn’t just let you guys stay here.” It was exactly as Tygeria feared, the humans were angry about being spied on. Drerzii’s flashing colors echoed her fear. “So we- Drerzii you okay? You’re putting on a whole light show my dude.”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite fine. For the time being at least.”

“Erm, yeah, whatever that means. Anyway, we’re about to have lunch, so we wanted to know if you guys wanted to join us. We might do something later, but we haven’t decided what yet.”

Tygeria lowered her head so it was on eye-level with the human. It didn’t make much of a difference to her, what with her infrared vision, but apparently it was a human gesture. “You don’t intend us any harm?”

The two humans looked on in confusion. “N-no? I mean why would we want to hurt you? We just wanted to know if you wanted to eat with us, but if you don’t that’s fine too.”

Tygeria was taken aback. Did they not know? “Because we were obs-”

“Of course we would be delighted to enjoy you for a meal. I unfortunately am unable to consume at the current moment, but I would be delighted to participate in your fellowship.”

“Oh. Great, well you guys can head on over then. Enara and I are just going to get some groceries, but we’ll be back in just a few minutes. The door’s unlocked so just head right in”

And so the humans headed off toward the provisions center of the station while Tygeria and Drerzii made their way to the humans rooms. Upon entering the room they were met with ferocious laughter. The terrifying sound of mirth coming from all three of the humans. Taurus, who apparently was in the middle of a story glanced over towards the door, his predatory eyes moving by pure instinct. He motioned with his hand. “Come on over guys, I was just telling them about when I managed to get a screw jammed up my nose.” It took a few minutes of recap for Tygeria and Drerzii to understand the situation, but it was incomprehnsible why the humans found it so funny.

Uhris and Enara arrived shortly after the story was finished. Both had bags filled with consumables in both hands. Taurus hooted from across the room “Uwu, y’all look like a couple, walking in with your groceries.”

Uhris breathed heavily through his nose, what Tygeria believed was called a “snort.” “If I was Jason maybe we’d be a couple.” At that comment Jason started coughing and Enara’s face grew red. Perhaps, Tygeria thought, this has something to do with them ‘liking’ each other.

“Anyway, we’re going to get started on lunch. Y’all just sit tight. Also Tygeria you should be able to eat this, we got food that’s edible for you too.” She clicked her thanks.

It was very considerate that the humans would use sustenance that she would be able to ingest as well. She was, however, concerned. Among her kind she was known to have rather specific preferences. However she couldn’t risk offending the humans by not eating any sustenance they prepared. But as they worked in the kitchen, her olfactory senses began to tingle. The smells of whatever it was they were making piqued her curiosity. How could one prepare food so that it would have such a smell? Was this some form of communication between human. Perhaps it was just a byproduct of whatever processes they were using to prepare the sustenance. 

She peered over to see both Uhris and Enara moving efficiently through the kitchen, handing each others utensils and ingredients as they worked. Occasionally one of them would take a small utensil and taste some of the sustenance, then make a small adjustment to the ratios of ingredients. Sometimes they would ask each others opinions or hand something off to the other. Tygeria was astonished at the ease with which they hurried through their movements. Uhris placed his creation in the heating unit and turned to the rest of them. “Alright, so this should take just a few minutes to bake, and then we’ll be good to go.”

Taurus set out dishes for everyone to eat on, except for Drerzii, who had declined on account of his metabolic processes not being in service for the time being. Once Uhris had deemed the time to be right, he carefully pulled the sustenance from the heating chamber and placed it upon the table. Enara came from the kitchen and placed what she had prepared next to Uhris’. “Just wait for it to cool down and then go ahead and dig in.”

With a laugh Jason raised his hand, “So what exactly is it that we’re eating.”

Uhris bared his teeth, then quickly changed his expression to be less frightening for Tygeria and Drerzii. “What we have here is a magherita flatbread, made completely by hand, with non-native ingredients. I subbed uthara for tomatoes for both the garnish and the sauce, and used tehari cream instead of cheese. And the crust is, actually I don’t know what it is, it just said it could be substituted on my holotablet. But Enara, tell them what you made.”

“What we have here is a fruit salad, also made with ‘non-native’ ingredients, as Uhri put it. And I put in some of the spices they had at the compound for some added flavor.”

Jason laughed, “So basically we’re having alien pizza and alien fruit salad? This is really gonna be the test guys.” With that he took out the first section of the ‘flatbread’ and took a bite. His eyes opened wide and he made a sound deep in his throat. With a mouth full of food he said, “Oh yeah, thish ish the sh*t you guys.” 

What exactly that meant, Tygeria wasn’t sure, but the rest of the humans began consuming the sustenance, and so Tygeria took one of the squares and took a bite of it herself. Her carapace tingled with delight. The flavors burst in her mouth, sweet and salty combining perfectly. She hummed with delight, this was beyond what she would have imagined the humans to be capable of. She then took a portion of the ‘fruit salad’ and ate some of that as well. It complimented the flatbread in a way that she didn’t know was even possible. She quickly secured another few servings, making sure she would have enough for later on. She would have to savor the taste whenever she had the chance. But she couldn’t help but to hum even more as she continued to feed on it. 

“Well it looks like we have one very happy customer.” Uhri said.

* * *

The rest of the day the group simply stayed indoors and talked about a myriad of subjects. Enara’s skill in the kitchen had come about simply because she liked to cook as a past time. It was, as she said, “A pleasure to see my work put smiles on faces. And even better if I can make the food healthy.” Uhri had apparently worked in his family’s business of making food for special events, something called catering, and had picked up his skills from his years helping around the kitchen. He volunteered to make another meal for dinner, but before he could start Anne stopped him. 

She stepped into the kitchen and turned to him “It’s been a while since I’ve made anything for anyone else, but I’d like to try to make something for you guys.”

Uhri shrugged, “Knock yourself out.” Tygeria was startled by this. Why would Anne hit herself so hard as to knock her unconscious? She was about to raise her concern when Uhri spoke, “I didn’t mean it literally. It’s a human saying, kind of like good luck, or go right ahead.” 

She hummed her acknowledgement, but was still confused as to why anyone would say this. 

Taurus paused, “Wait Anne, I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Well I did live by myself for two years in college. And I got sick of instant ramen after the first semester, so I had to learn.” 

This made sense to Tygeria, humans apparently had to fend for themselves once they reached a certain age. Their parents would assist but for the most part they were on their own. Next to her Drerzii trumpeted with delight. “Why, Tygeria I have been fastidiously taking notes of this whole occasion, and I would like to mull over them with you later. We can see what our thoughts are, but this entire time has been so enlightening.”

A few short minutes later Anne huffed out of the kitchen a steaming platter in her hands. The smell coming from it was just as strong as the one coming from the earlier dishes, but not quite so delectable in nature. Anne plopped it down in the middle of the table and introduced the dish. “It’s a bean casserole, or at least as close as I could get to one with what we have.”

Jason was again the first one to take a bite. He slowly pulled his utensil out of his mouth. Anne beamed, “So, what do you think?”

Jason shook slightly, “It’s definitely something else. You’ve got a real flavor there I’ll tell you that.” He timidly placed another portion in his mouth, shutting his eyes as he did so. 

The others began to eat, and had similar reactions. Slow, and usually taking a drink of water after every bite they had. It was a completely different reaction to what they had before. Before she could take a bite, Drerzii whispered in her ear, “Tell me what it tastes like.” 

So she  put a large portion on her plate, and another large portion in her mouth. If it was anything like the bliss she had tasted earlier she would have to start eating the humans food more often. Unfortunately, it was nothing like what she had eaten earlier. It was as if whatever the flavor was meant to be had become evil and was attacking her mouth. And the way it felt, it was incredibly dry, parching her mouth. She quickly grabbed a cup of water and downed it, trying to suppress the taste and texture. She turned to Drerzii and spoke quietly, not wanting to offend Anne, “It’s awful. I would not recommend trying it.” She looked back to see Anne staring directly at her. Her predatory hearing must have heard Tygeria’s report. 

“Is it actually that bad? I know I might have fudged some of the spices, but was it actually that bad?” 

Tygeria started to panic. How could she tell the human that it was possibly the worst thing she had ever tasted? Humans were easily offended when it came to things they made themselves. It wouldn’t do for her to insult the food. But she could thing of no other honest alternative. Right as she was about to confirm, Taurus spoke. “To be honest Anne, it’s not great. It’s pretty dry and you overdid it with the flavoring. But trust me it’s not as bad as my grandmothers cooking. That was a culinary nightmare. I can at least eat this.” 

Anne nodded, liquid gathering at the bottoms of her eyes. Tygeria tilted her head, she had heard that liquid spilled from humans eyes when they got emotional, and the action even had a name. So she asked, “Are you going to cry?”

Instantly Anne stood straight, and shook her head. “Throw the food away. I’ll just go out and grab something pre-made.” With that she dashed out the door. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I mean, yeah, you aren’t really supposed to ask people if they’re going to cry.” Taurus said, “But at least we don’t have to finish the food. God it was disgusting, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Enara struck him on the shoulder. “Don’t say that, she tried her best.”

“I mean am I wrong?”

Enara raised her hand as if to cuff him again, but slowly let her arm down. “No, not really, it was pretty terrible. I’m going to go find her, but let’s do try to cheer her up when she comes back.” And with that Enara rose and left the room. As soon as she had Uhris spat out a slimy, semi-chewed portion of the food. “That shit was nasty, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow.”

Tygeria wondered how any human could take the risk of attempting to prepare sustenance of the potential for disaster was this, this massacre of the tastebuds.

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Beauty Inside

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One: The Serpent Beneath

Request: @daltonacademia​: Draco x Gryffindor reader and maybe like a faking dating type of situation? I am a sucker for the faking dating trope lmao. Maybe you could even spice it up by making it kind of an inside out version of enemies to lovers when they act lovey-dovey in public but in secret despise each other until they slowly get feelings??

A/n: I promised this and here it is. I was going to make it three parts but I’m not that mean. I really did enjoy this fake dating trope and want to explore some different routes. In the mean time, enjoy this one filled with pinning and comfort

“The hell do you mean you’re dating that Gryffindor?” Pansy hissed, shoving him against the nearest wall.

“Calm down Pans,” Draco smirked, pushing her off and righting his shirt. “I’m only doing it to get at Potter. Golden boy wants her and she’s mine,” The smugness rolled off of him in waves.

“You... you’re...” Pansy relaxed, clearly impressed. “Gotta say Malfoy, I’m impressed.”

“Of course, you are, and after Potter’s realized he’s lost, I’ll dump her in front of the entire student body and...” He shrugged. It was almost too easy.

“You’ve outdone yourself Malfoy,” Pansy grinned. “How in the world did you convince her to go out with you?”

There was no way that he was telling Pansy that this had been your idea that he had jumped on board with. That would be the same as admitting you were as devious and cunning as he was, and he would not have that. And neither would Pansy.

“Potter tried to ask her to the Yule Ball this morning in Potions, I stepped in and she didn’t give anything a way. After class we made the deal.”

Pansy seemed to leave him alone after that clearly satisfied with his story. Now that he had time to slow down and think about it, far away from your smile and fierce determination in your eyes, he could easily plan on breaking your heart. Of course, he had to plan dinner first, but he could multitask could he not?

Dinner was easy to plan with Pansy’s help. Of course, he couldn’t avoid it being in the Great Hall, after all the entire point was to be together in the public eye, but he could easily make sure that you weren’t amidst a few dozen Slytherins who loved to hate you.

The hours seemed to slip by until it was time to pick you up. Draco didn’t particularly enjoy walking so close to the lion’s den, but it had to be done. It had to be public. He had to rub it into Harry’s face.

You were waiting outside the portrait, fiddling with the sleeve of your button up shirt, your sweater and tie gone. There was nothing to pin you as a Gryffindor physically now, only your reputation that hovered with every step. The Fat Lady in the portrait was evidently not happy with him being there or your presence to meet him.

“Hello,” He gave an easy practiced smile. Your eyes flickered to his, a sadness in them that was covered with false light.

“Hey,” You offered. “How was your afternoon?”

“Fine,” Draco walked along side you as you made your way to the Great Hall. “Finished my homework for the night, spoke with Pansy.”

“She can’t be happy with this.” You motioned to the two of you, the sadness creeping back into your tone. “Harry certainly isn’t.”

“Pansy is indifferent I think,” Draco noted. “And I thought that was the point? To make Harry miserable?” A real smile played at his lips.

“Except he’s bent out on making me miserable now,” That was the source of your melancholy. “All of the Gryffindors are...” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your discomfort didn’t sit right with Draco. Sure, he wanted Harry to be jealous, and he didn’t really care about what Gryffindors thought of him. But somehow it had turned back on you and now you were despondent. The rolls were wrong, Harry was supposed to be unhappy, not you. The only reason that it bothered Draco is because if you weren’t happy with how things were turning out you might back out too soon. It was the only obvious reason. He needed to think fast.

“Trust me?” He offered and you gaped at him like he had two heads.

And sure, it was an odd question to come from him, but if this were to work, you had trust him and the stupid plan he had to get Potter off your back and into his place. But despite that, you gave in and nodded. He reached for your hand, and after a moment of hesitancy, you intertwined your fingers with his.

The Great Hall went pin drop silent as you two entered. You held his hand a little tighter. Instinctively he gave your hand a small squeeze in reassurance. Draco led you to the end of the Slytherin table that was tucked in the corner near the hearth. It had been vacated by his fellow Slytherins and Pansy winked at him. The teachers even seemed at a loss for words as you sat beside him, yet dinner presumed as if the world hadn’t turned upside down.

“You don’t have to look so nervous,” Draco reassured you as the Great Hall fell back into the common buzz of conversation. “I’m not gonna bite,”

Your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the Hall, tensed for the next bad thing to happen. Draco rolled his eyes knowing that this behavior wouldn’t convince anyone. So, he took your hand into his again and soothed you with the stroking of his thumb.

“Potter’s staring,” He murmured into your ear, leaning close. Your cheeks flushed at his close proximity. “Nervous around me, are we Y/n?” He teased lightly.

An annoyed smile rose on your lips as you scoffed, shoving him playfully. “You wish, Malfoy,” That was better.

“Why would I want my girlfriend to be nervous around me?” He raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.

“Well, are you are so gosh darn pretty,” You batted your eyelashes at him before dissolving into laughter and his heart skipped a beat. Your laughter faded into a smile as you caught your lip between your teeth. His stare held yours for a bit too long and he found you blushing again and looking down.

You seemed more at ease at his side after that, even leaning into him after a while and striking up casual conversation. It was effortless to talk to you. You didn’t expect much in reply and you kept the topic moving from one thing to the next and he had no trouble keeping up. It was a small victory for him every time that he could make you laugh or blush, knowing the entire world was watching and Potter was growing greener as the minutes passed by.

Dinner had to end though. It was inevitable. You looked to him with wide innocent eyes, asking silently what to do next. He stood, taking your hand again as he led you through the halls. It was not lost on him that Harry and Hermione were following you two.

“It seems we have shadows,” You smiled up at him, referring to the two trailing Gryffindors.

“Seems we do,” He paused in the hall, “Wanna give them something to gawk at? I did take you to dinner,”

Your lips parted as you looked up at him doe eyed. For all of the times that you had worried your lip since this little game started left Draco wanting... He shook the thought. This was a game. Nothing more than that.

Draco’s hand came up and steadied your face softly as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. And holy Merlin did he fuck up.

____________________________________

I stared up at the drapery of my bed, tonight playing over and over in my head. Dinner. Draco. The kiss. The stupid godforsaken kiss.

I did not like Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy did not make me nervous.

Draco Malfoy does not give me butterflies.

Draco Malfoy did not make me smile to myself in the middle of the night.

It was a game. It was a game. It was fake. The pattering of my heart as he kissed me wasn’t real. My fingers grasping at his sweater was nothing more than a ruse. The softness of his lips on mine was a lie. The wonder and curiosity in his eyes when we parted was a scam. His gentle goodnight and lovely smile was a con.

My smile faded as a few tears slipped out. 

Draco Malfoy did not make me cry.

He did ask me to the Yule Ball, however. In front of Harry, and most of the student body in the courtyard. As soon as I accepted, he twirled me in his arms and set me down, placing another kiss to my lips.

He offered me his coat when the weather turned colder. He always carried my books. He walked me to every class with a soft kiss on my cheek. He held my hand. He studied with me and even helped me in Potions when I fell behind. He left notes on my desk and sent me a few during class. He made me smile. More than I had in a very long time. He made me... happy.

It was a trick.

It was a trick. It was a trick. It was a trick. It was a trick. It... It... 

It was a war within me

One part of me, the logical part knew that it was a game. A falsehood. To get back at Harry and watch him sulk in the halls as Draco and I went along together. It was a perfectly executed plan. Every touch was calculated, each kiss strategic, every laugh arranged. It was a stage performance between two actors who knew their roles brilliantly. A dance of deception and deviousness. And one part of me knew her position better than the stars.

And the other part of me believed the lie. And she was crying on the inside knowing it was nothing more than a tragedy. It didn’t stop her from hoping though. From twirling around in my room in my Yule Ball dress, imagining what it would be like to dance with Draco across the ballroom floor in my own fairytale. This part of me had a fair argument, however:

There had to be an explanation as to why Draco held my hand even when no one else was around. A reason to why he kissed me goodnight even though we were alone. A purpose to why without a second thought he hexed Harry when the golden boy tried to make a snide comment at me. Why he asked me if I was alright after he had found a quiet spot in the castle afterward. There had to be cause as to why there were no longer walls in his eyes, but warmth and comfort.

It was a game. And he was a Slytherin. 

Cunning, one part of me argued.

Loyal, the other part countered. 

But to you? The first part scoffed. 

I had no answer.

A few nights before the Yule Ball, a letter was delivered to my window by an owl. Inside was an invitation from Draco. He wanted me to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. Tugging on a house coat I crept out of the dorms and through the halls to the tower.

Anxiety ate me up inside, causing me to tremble. Maybe this was the end. This was the happily never after that I knew belonged to this story. I paused at the base of the stairs, wondering if I was ready to let Draco go. If I was ready to give up my fantasy. My heart screamed no, but my head told me it was for the best. I took the first step.

“Draco?” My voice was smaller than I felt in that moment.

This had to be goodbye. There was no other explanation. We had sealed our deal and carried out the terms and it was time to end our pact.

“You told me you loved the stars, their stories,” His voice was soft as he looked up at the inky sky. “The day this all started,”

“I remember,” I barely spoke the words, terrified. I didn’t dare take a step closer. I feared that a single wring move could shatter everything.

“A lot has changed since then,” His eyes still didn’t leave the stars. 

“I suppose,”

This time he did face me. There was regret and fear written in his features. And I wanted nothing more than to comfort him. To take away any reason that would make him feel that way. Until it dawned on me that I was that reason.

“Y/n,”

“Don’t,” I stopped him. “I know what you’re going to say,” I refused to look at him. “It’s okay, it’s better now than...”

“No, Y/n, wait,” He reached out for me.

“It’s enough, enough Draco?” Tears pricked my eyes. “I get it.”

“You really don’t,” He stressed, coming over to me. “Look, I fucked up,” I let out a pitiful laugh and shook my head.

“If either of us fucked up here it’s me. I... Draco... I... and you... and—”

And in the quiet of the night, with no one watching and no one to make jealous, Draco cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine urgently. I went wide eyed and pushed away. Now I was the one who was scared, trembling in his hold. Draco had the same uncertainty in his eyes as he stroked my cheek softly.

“I fucked up,” He whispered again. “I... I love you, Y/n,”

“No,” I was in disbelief. A worried smile played at his lips as he looked at me.

“I love you, don’t you hear me?” His face fell. “Did I get it wrong?” Hurt and fear coated his tone. “Do you not... did...” He took a deep tense breath. “Tell me you don’t love me too and I’ll never bother you again,” He sounded completely shattered. Someone had faltered in step.

So, if the rest of the world was going to hell in a handbasket, I might as well go with my lips pressed against his for even a moment.

Pressing up on my toes, my lips collided with his, sealing out fate. This time the urgency was not wasted. His hands pressed my body against his, and I knotted my fingers into his hair. This was my opportunity to finally kiss him the way I yearned to. Unapologetically, recklessly, and ridiculously in love with him.

I pulled away, realizing that I hadn’t actually said the words yet.

“I love you Draco Malfoy,” A grin curled on my lips. “Stupid Slytherin,” I chuckled.

“Ickle Gryffindor,” He mused, pressing a fleeting kiss to my lips. “My Y/n,”

And like the day I had accepted his invitation to go to the Yule Ball, he picked me up and spun me in his arms. I let out a carefree laugh and held him close.

“Y/n?” He called softly, drawing my attention. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Will you go out with me? Properly? No deal, no game. Will you be my actual girlfriend?”

I laughed. “Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Muzzling my nose to his I felt great comfort in his arms. The dreamer in me was ecstatic that she had been right, so much so that the skeptic had nothing to say.

“I love you,” He whispered softly. “I love the way you smile at me. I love the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous. I love the way you hold my hand like it’s a lifeline. I love the way you pass me notes in class. I love the way you make me smile. You make me happy,”

“You make me happy too,” Tears pricked my eyes for a different reason now. “You make me so happy. You make me feel safe and protected and cared for. How could I not love you?” I stroked his face softly. “I love that you hold my hand. And I love that you don’t have to fake a smile around me. I love that I’m allowed to see the real you,”

He drew me close into another hug, and we didn’t let each other go for quite some time. And like every other night, Draco walked me back to my portrait. He kissed me. He said goodnight, but this time he also said that he loved me.

The day of the Yule Ball came, and Draco and I had spent every moment that we could together the days prior. I didn’t see him that day, but I didn’t expect to. We both had a day of getting ready and spending time with our respective friends. All day I softly hummed melodies and danced to myself, expectant for tonight.

Just as I was about to head down to the Great Hall to meet Draco, Hermione rushed to me, looking unsettled and urgent.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you.” Hermione grabbed my arm pulling me aside. “Look, Viktor told me he overheard Pansy talking to some other Slytherins about you and Draco,”

“Okay?” I stared at her, waiting for the cause of her urgency, knowing that with each moment that passed Draco would worry a bit more.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, but... Draco’s going to break up with you tonight, in front of everyone...” She looked down, ashamed.

My heart fell as I took a step back.

“No... Draco. He... he loves me,” I refuted. “You’ve got it wrong,”

“Y/n,” She pleaded, reaching out for me. “It was all a game. He only dated you to make Harry jealous. Then he’s going to humiliate you tonight. It... it was nothing more than a joke,”

Tears pricked my eyes. “No,” I whispered again. “It changed. Things changed... he... he can’t.” 

“Y/n,”

“No,” I sniffled, crying. “You’ve got it wrong!” I refused to believe her words, the skeptic in me rearing her ugly head.

“I’m so sorry,” She sighed.

“I’ve... I’ve got to find him. There... there’s got to be some mistake,” I took off down the hall, ignoring as Hermione called out for me.

I nearly ran into Draco, knocking us both over in the feat. He laughed at my antics but became serious when he saw my distress.

“Y/n? Darling?” He helped me into a sitting position—admittedly on his lap—brushing a tear from me face carefully.

“You love me, yeah?” I quaked. “Tell me it’s not true...”

“What? What’s not true?” His tone became more imperative. “What happened?” 

“I trusted you!” I choked out, crying still.

“Y/n!?” He grabbed my shoulders with the utmost care. “What in Merlin’s name has got you so shaken!? Listen to me, I do love you, you know that.” There was no room for argument in his tone. “Whatever you heard, whatever’s got you so scared, it’s gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Drawing me into his arms, he held me tightly, rubbing my back softly.

“Hermione said she heard Pansy say you’re gonna... that you...” I sniffled, hyperventilating. “I told her she was wrong. You love me,” I clung to the notion desperately.

Draco cursed under his breath and sighed.

“This about me breaking up with you at the ball?” There was a faint hint of humor in his voice as he drew away enough so that I could face him.

My gaze fell and I nodded, trembling. “Don’t... please, Draco,”

“Hey,” He tilted my chin up. “That was before... before I fell for you. I’d never hurt you like that. Especially not on a night as special as this,”

I nodded, and dove back into his arms, trying to find a steadiness in my breathing. 

“If you’re really that worried, we won’t even go,” He murmured softly.

“What?” I squeaked out.

“Look if we don’t go, then there would be no reason for you to even think that I would do something like that. There would be no crowd, no rumors, just you and me. If you really want, we won’t go. We’ll hide in the Astronomy Tower all night. Just you and me,” The sincerity in his eyes almost made me cry once more.

This time I tackled him, beaming, and feeling secure in what I knew was true.

“And miss the chance to show you off and make every girl jealous?” I grinned, my smile warming to something softer. “Thank you, Draco. I’m... sorry I freaked out,”

“You trusted me enough to let me explain, that’s no reason to apologize,” He returned the warm smile. “You look absolutely gorgeous by the way,” He helped me up and off the ground.

“You’re quite dashing yourself Malfoy,” I smiled, fluffing out the skirt of my dress so that it fell properly. A quick cleaning spell and I felt as good as new, no breakdown evident on my face.

Draco and I entered the Great Hall and like before, the room went quiet upon our arrival. I glanced to Draco and he gave me an encouraging smile. With my hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, we descended the stairs. The music began again when we reached the bottom and Draco wasted no time in pulling me to the center of the dance floor as the waltz began.

“They’re all looking at us,” I whispered, my eyes focused on his steady grey ones as I worried my lip.

“Believe me they’re all looking at you,” There was a mischievous glint to his smile that eased my anxiety more than I’d have thought.

And when I was in Draco’s care as he led me across the dance floor, there really was nothing to be anxious about. I didn’t care about Pansy or Harry glaring at me the entire waltz. I didn’t care about the whispers spreading through the crowd. I didn’t care about the defeated and jealous sighs of onlookers.

No, instead I laughed and danced with remembered steps as the music swelled and crescendoed.

“Trust me?” Draco asked, and I laughed again, remembering the first time he ever asked me that.

Nodding, he changed the choreography slightly, and I let him lead me before his arms came and supported my waist and as I took the next step, he lifted me, to my delight and then through the next three count both of his hands were at my waist and I was ready as he lifted me again twirling me in the glittering golden lights before setting me down again. The waltz came to its end leaving Draco and I alone on the dance floor. I dipped into a curtsey and he bowed before the entire room erupted into applause.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to think that I’m leaving you now,” Draco murmured into my ear as the next song was softer, not quite a waltz but slow enough for us to stay pressed against another and sway softly.

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know you’re not leaving me,”

.

masterlist

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more like this:

gryffindor!reader series

ten things i hate about you

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[princessphilly]

All Bets Are Off Chapter 12

Word Count: 

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Join the tag list here!

CW: smut, filthy talk

This is a bit of a filler chapter, sorry. 

“Are you going to miss me?”

Nina didn’t even look up from her iPad. It was so annoying yet adorable at the same time, how Sidney was desperately trying to get her to tell him how much she was going to miss him. 

“Um, I think you’re going to miss me more than I’ll miss you,” Nina finally replied. She grinned as Sidney huffed. 

The first month of the new year had passed by pretty quickly to Nina. After being together for New Year’s Eve, Nina and Sid separated as the Pens had to finish off their road trip. Nina stayed in Miami for Jason’s game before taking an extra week just for herself. It was nice to have a bit of a vacation, especially when Lauren flew down. Nina basically enjoyed being on the beach, hanging out with a close friend, and shopping. 

The morning of New Year’s Day, after having their first breakfast together of the new year, Sid had given Nina a card. Nina was shocked to see a credit card with her name on it and she had tried to give it back but Sid had insisted. “You don’t treat yourself enough, pretty girl,” he had firmly stated. So Nina took advantage of it to treat herself a bit. 

By the time she came back to Pittsburgh, Sidney’s road trip was over but Nina’s semester had started. They had a couple of weeks where they spent time together as much as possible before the Pens had another short road trip. Now, Sidney was on his way to the Olympics in Beijing for their longest separation so far.

Sidney finally had his bag packed the way that he liked it. Glancing at Nina laying on their, um, his bed, he drawled, “Are you sure you aren’t going to miss me?”

Nina looked up and giggled. “You hog the sheets, Sidney. And you’re like a furnace when you sleep.”

Sidney walked over to the bed, crouching over Nina. “Hurting my feelings right before I have to take a long flight. Tsk tsk.”

“Your flight leaves tomorrow. You’re just making sure you are totally prepared tonight. Stop being so dramatic, Sidney Crosby.”

Sidney smirked as he brushed a hand down Nina’s front. She was clothed, wearing one of his t-shirts. “Still, Nina. 

“Still, Sidney.”

Nina stuck out her tongue at Sidney as he giggle-honked. Sidney brushed an errant strand of hair off of Nina’s forehead as he whispered, “I wish you were coming.”

“It was too short of a notice to take almost three weeks off, Sid,” Nina murmured. “Plus, hasn’t it always just been your family attending the Olympics?”

“Yes?”

Nina smiled. “Then, I would be breaking your tradition and your superstitions-”

Sidney opened his mouth to disagree but Nina put a finger over it. “Don’t even start, we both know how important ALL of your superstitions are. Even if you wouldn’t say it, if you lose without a gold medal and I'm there, part of you would be wondering. So quit the bullshit, Sidney.”

Sidney gave Nina a chagrined smile as she laughed at him. She was right, as always.

“Sid, it’ll be fine. You’re lucky I’m a morning person, you can call me crazy early here and I’ll pick up,” Nina reasoned. 

Sidney pouted a bit. “I finally got you to actually date me, I don’t want to be separated from you for that long.”

“How cute, Mr. Obsessed-with-Hockey has become soft in his old age.”

Nina squealed when Sidney tickled her, squirming. “Okay, okay, you’re allowed to become soft!”

Sidney gave Nina a soft smile and she gulped. Something shifted in that look and Nina felt like there was something new. 

Sidney bit his lip as Nina nervously laughed. In that moment, the pure joy on Nina’s face as she squealed while he tickled her, Sidney was sure that he loved her. He loved Nina. But this was the wrong time to admit that. So he chuckled and said, “If I’m soft, it’s only because of you.”

Nina stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Sidney chose not to respond to that statement, instead choosing to slide his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, exploratory as they kissed, not their usual hungry kisses. Then Nina wrapped a leg around Sidney’s waist and the mood changed. 

Nina ended the kiss first, whispering, “I can feel that someone is going to really miss me.”

“Going to miss you so much,” Sidney replied, grinding his hips into Nina’s core. “Let me show you.”

Nina gasped as Sidney sucked along her neck, just light enough not to leave any marks. “Gonna give you something to remember while I’m gone,” Sidney promised as his hands went under her shirt before pulling it off. 

Nina grinned before moaning as Sidney began to do exactly what he promised to do.

**

Sidney sighed as he sent the text. Everything was going great, even after a couple of hiccups in their first group stage games. This year, it was obvious to Sidney that this was going to be the last Olympics for him. Except for him, Tazer, Bergy, Tanger, Webs, Price, and Giroux, all of the other players on the team were under 30. Sidney saw his job as captain this year to not just get one more gold, but get the younger guys ready to take over. 

Right now, they were getting ready to play against Germany, their first game after the group stage, the real games. It was before pregame; the players whose families had come to Beijing were giving well-wishes. At this moment, Sidney wished Nina was here with him instead of home in Pittsburgh.

His phone pinged and Sidney relaxed when he saw the message: its midnight here. Good luck. Im g2g2 sleep. Bye

That message was quickly followed by another one: why the hell did they schedule yall for so fucking late? figured canada would be primetime here

Sidney laughed when he saw Nina’s message. Giroux looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Must be the elusive girlfriend.”

Giroux’s wife elbowed him, causing him to say ow. Sidney snickered; they may be teammates for Team Canada but their truce was still a fragile truce. Ryanne Giroux said, “I heard Nina’s very sweet and kind.”

“Oh?”

Sidney was suddenly very curious. Blithely, Ryanne replied, “You know as well as I do it’s a small league. People only have the kindest things to say about her.”

Relaxing a bit, Sidney grinned. “Nina’s pretty fucking amazing. I’m lucky she likes me.”

“Oh God, he’s talking about Nina again.”

Sidney’s grin turned into a smile as Tanger clasped him on the back. Tanger continued, “It took five years-”

“Five years,” Giroux asked as Sidney groaned. “Stop giving him chirp material.”

Ryanne snickered as Sidney’s phone pinged again; kris says ur bragging about me again?

“Really, Tanger, really?”

Kris laughed as Sidney narrowed his eyes. “Calm down, Sid.” 

Before Sidney could reply, Nina sent him another text: score a hat trick

Sidney gave his phone a soft smile. It was time to get focused for the game, so Sidney put his phone away as soon as he went back into the locker room.

**

Nina cracked an eye open. The time difference was a motherfucker; it was 5:45 am but 5:45pm. Yawning, Nina sat up in her bed as she accepted the call from Sid. 

“Nina, really?”

“Good morning to you,” Nina yawned. 

Sid slightly frowned. Nina was wearing a team USA t-shirt. Her shorts were blue. Even her sleep bonnet was blue. 

“I’m not Canadian, Sid.”

“Stilll-“

Nina smirked as she shook her head. “No, I’m not rooting for you. Score as many goals as you want, I’m Team USA.”

Sidney scowled as Nina laughed. “It’s not even like the US made the gold medal game!”

Nina was disappointed in Team USA. She was hoping they would make it to the gold medal game but they were going to go against Finland for Bronze. Tomorrow, at 8am Beijing Time, 8pm EST, Canada was going against Sweden for gold. 

“Still, you should be rooting for me.”

“I am,” Nina reasoned. “I want you to score all the goals. But, I just cannot root for Canada, yet.”

“Yet.”

Nina looked up to the ceiling before yawning again. Sidney was in a snit. She felt a tiny bit bad for Sweden because they were going to get it. But that wasn’t her problem. “Seriously, good luck, Sidney.”

“Thank you, Nina.”

Nina blew Sidney a kiss and he pretended to catch it. Then he licked his lips. “How many days did you take off when I get back?”

“Three, Sidney. Just three.”

Nina couldn’t help the rush of heat in her center when Sidney drawled, “I don’t plan to let you out of my house then.”

“Win the damn gold then,” Nina snapped. 

Sidney chuckled, saying, “You’re ready to go back to sleep then. Sweet dreams, Nina.”

“Bye, Sid.”

**

Nina looked down at her phone. There were three messages, long messages, all from Sid. She took in a deep, fortifying breath. Canada had one gold and Sidney had two goals. From the highlights, it seemed like Sidney was on a mission the whole game. Sighing, Nina pressed play on the first one. It was just a noisy celebration, nothing big until Sidney started talking. His talking was garbled at first and Nina laughed when she realized that he was drunk off his ass when he called her. 

The second voicemail started just as garbled, then Nina heard Sidney clearly say, “I’m so happy we won, I still wish you were here, you’re my new lucky charm, pretty girl. Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl, you make everything better now that you’re mine.”

The next one was just sappy as the second, but Sidney was definitely somewhere quieter with this one. But he was also just as drunk, as he ended by saying, “I wanna fuck you when I get back, with you wearing my gold, pretty girl. This gold is almost as pretty as you.”

Nina ruefully laughed, already expecting apologetic texts from Sidney when he was sober. But for the rest of the day, the thought lingered in her mind, the idea that Sidney loved her. However, her patients kept Nina busy and she didn’t get a moment to really ruminate on that. Then, Nina went over to Karesha’s house to babysit her play nephew, AJ, as Karesha went out with her boyfriend. 

Within an hour of leaving, Karesha came back in, heated as she slammed the door. AJ commented, “He must have made Mom mad again.”

“AJ, please go upstairs and play with your Legos, Mommy needs to talk to Aunt Nina,” Karesha asked, trying hard to control her voice. 

AJ quickly ran up the stairs, loudly closing the door to his room. Karesha flopped on the couch, kicking off her expensive heels. “Fuck men.”

Nina got up and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. Pour shots, she passed one to Karesha before sitting back down next to her friend. Karesha gratefully smiled before downing the shot. 

“I’m tired of this shit. I told him it was over through text. How dare he say he’s coming up to Pittsburgh before spring training and then text me after I get to the restaurant to say he’s not coming after all. I’m done. I can’t.”

Nina murmured sympathetically, “Fuck him.”

“I’m so glad I never brought him around AJ though,” Karesha stated. “He had the nerve to say I spent too much time with my kid when I told him it was over.”

Nina’s eyes widened at that statement. “What are you supposed to do? Parent him less?”

Thoughts about Sidney were forgotten as Nina consoled her friend. Deciding to sleep over, Nina woke up early in the morning on the couch, several texts from Sidney waiting for her. Nina quickly scanned over them, starting with a text telling Nina his flight was about to come in to the last one asking if everything was okay. Nina sent him a message: friend had a crisis, be over around 10

It was early, around 7am so Nina didn’t expect to get a response. But Sidney replied: everything ok?

As ok as it’s gonna be, don’t worry, Nina sent back before straightening up Karesha’s living room. She then slipped out, locking the door from the inside. 

**

“Gonna get you full with my cum, pretty girl. Fuck, look at you, your pussy already trying to milk my cum.”

Nina groaned as she watched Sid fuck her, claiming her. Her legs were over his shoulders, allowing Sidney to fuck her deep. “You missed me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina managed to say. He was fucking her so good, each stroke hitting her g-spot. It was like Sidney returned as a man on a mission. 

“I missed you. Dreamed of you every night, Nina,” Sidney rasped. 

“Mmmm.”

Nina no longer had words, she could feel her high coming. Then she felt Sidney’s fingers, just two fingers on her clit and it was enough to send her over the edge. Nina screamed, her nails digging into Sidney’s back. That was enough to get Sidney to reach his high as well, his grunts wordless as he came. 

Nina sighed as Sidney withdrew, already sad at feeling empty. Sidney sat back on his haunches, watching as his cum started to leak out of Nina’s pussy. “I’ll never get enough of seeing that,” he remarked as he played with Nina’s clit. “Just for me, pretty girl.”

Moaning, Nina closed her eyes. She was sensitive but she felt herself respond to Sidney’s fingers. Then his fingers were replaced with his tongue, his fingers fucking his cum deeper inside of her pussy and the time for rational thought was gone. 

**

Six weeks later

Nina sighed as she rifled through her bag for the keys to her apartment. Today was her thirty-first birthday and for some reason, she felt weird. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m now on the other side of thirty,’ Nina thought to herself. 

The morning began with happy birthday texts from friends, birthday calls from Mom and Dad, and a facetime call with Jason. Sidney had sent her a funny meme birthday text but nothing else. Nina knew she shouldn’t feel too bad; the Pens were trying to solidify their playoff spot in the division and her birthday, April 5, fell right at the end of the season. As she opened the door, Nina hoped that Sid would at least do something once the playoffs were over. At the same time, it felt weird that she wasn’t going out with her parents either.

Just her luck that for the first time she was in a relationship around her birthday, her boyfriend had reasons not to take her out. Nina sniffled as she turned on the light.

“SURPRISE!!”

Nina gasped as Sidney, Kris, Geno, Anna, Catherine, Taylor, Alex, Victoria, Mario, Nathalie, Guentzy, Tristan, Hannah, Karesha, AJ, Lauren, her mom and dad, and Aryanna jumped out. Eyes wide, Nina burst into tears. 

“Oh no, what’s wrong pretty girl,” Sidney replied, folding Nina into his arms. 

Nina sniffled as she cried, “I thought everyone forgot my birthday!”

“I told you she wasn’t going to take it well,” Karesha muttered as Lauren kicked her. “Girl, be happy he did this all for you when he could be extra obsessive about the playoffs.”

Nina cut her eyes at Karesha before getting on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Sid’s cheek. “Thank you, Sid.”

**

The pictures of that night were put into a small scrapbook. Nina didn’t understand Sidney’s love for documenting memories in such a dramatic way but it was nice to look back at the memories in book form instead of having to scroll through her phone. Playoffs were now starting though so Nina was sure that would be the last carefree time until the playoffs were over, this time hopefully with another cup.

[kataraslove]

katara: “do you hear that?”

aang: “sounds like it’s coming from over there...”

for kataang week day 3: post canon @kataang-week​

newly wedded aang and katara (now sporting a cute little bob) were travelling across the world for their honeymoon. on their way to the kingdom of omashu, the two decided to stop and revisit the cave of two lovers. as aang and katara leaned in for a quick kiss by the entrance of the cave, they heard a blood-curling scream come from inside. immediately pulling away, the couple shared a suspicious look with each other before deciding to investigate.

katara cautiously grabbed her pouch as aang drew out a small flame to lead the way. however, the waterbender stopped her husband to remind him that the tunnels were filled with fluorescent crystals that glowed in the dark. 

“oh yeah,” aang recalled. he looked down at the flame dwindling in his palm. “i’ll put it out when we get further in there. if we hear screaming again, we’ll be able to find out where it came from.” 

“you can also use your earth bending this time around.” 

aang nodded. “that i can.” the gentle lines of his face - reserved especially for his wife - quickly switched up to the avatar look, the signature look that he bore whenever there was danger and people in need of his help. 

“let’s go.”

(continued under the cut, 2.4k words)

the broad sunlight of the summer day was reduced to a small crevice against their backs, as the two lovers made their way into the shadows of the labyrinth. their primary light source came from aang’s flame, which had grown brighter the farther they travelled. the avatar could not help but become a little bit mesmerized with the vivid red and orange hues that danced in his left palm, the warmth that occupied his hand having stretched out to his entire body. the flame synchronized so perfectly well with his heartbeat. fire is life, he recalled the words of the sun warrior chief. not just destruction. 

aang nearly chuckled out loud. firebending came so naturally to him now - almost as natural as his airbending. to think that there was ever a time that he had outright hated the element and vowed to never learn it, even if it had meant jeopardizing his avatarhood.

however, a small voice crept to the back of his mind, uncomfortably reminding of the exact reason as to why he initially refused to learn the element at the age of twelve. it was the same reason that brought shame and guilt inside his gut - even eight years later - whenever the memory unexpectedly crossed his mind. what he had done to katara on that day, how he had refused to listen to jeong jeong’s advice and lost control of his fire, the image of her fresh burns - it was all there, forever smeared across his brain and heart as a painful reminder. no matter how many times katara had insisted that good had come from that day through the discovery of her healing abilities, aang could never wash away the trauma associated with that event.

he inhaled sharply. it won’t happen again. he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he had full control over all the elements now. fire was energy, he had learned, and life.

sparing a glance at katara, who had been awfully quiet since they got into the cave, he noticed that his wife was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. the trouble in her beautiful features was easily detectable by the bright flames within his hand. he moved closer to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers in an attempt to comfort her. “you okay?”

she met his eyes, and he could see the hint of fear reflected in them. “aang, i’m worried.”

“you have nothing to be worried about,” aang reassured her with a small smile. “whatever it is, or whoever it is, we can take ‘em.”

katara shook her head. “i’m not worried about the who. we’ve probably dealt with far worse than whatever is lingering in this cave. but i - aang, what if it’s bad?”

he frowned, confused. “what if what’s bad, then?”

she studied her hands carefully. her hands were the hands of a fighter, of a healer. the same hands who had resurrected an avatar back to life and saved a firelord from near death, while dismantling another firelord from the throne. he felt the sudden urge to draw her hands in his own, to hold her tight enough to ease away her fears.

“what if there’s a bunch of dead bodies stashed away in this tunnel, rotting away for days or even weeks?” she answered in alarm, eyes widening at the dark path ahead of them. “or, what if there’s a bunch of people lying around in pain, on the brink of death, and I don’t have enough water to save them all?”

his eyes turned to the road ahead. he saw nothing, except for earth and more earth. but he knew better than to dismiss those kind of fears. 

“that wouldn’t be your fault.” he responded gently. “we’ll do our best to help, to make sure that whoever is out there is safe and unharmed. but if they do happen to be harmed - or worse, dead - and we’ve tried everything that we could,” he shuttered out a breath at the imagery. “i don’t want you to blame yourself for whoever you can’t save, katara.”

“and i don’t want you to blame yourself, aang.” she placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked on. he tried to ignore the immediate sweep of panic churning in his stomach at her proximity to the fire. if he envisioned a future with both katara and firebending, he would have to get used to accepting that she would be around the times when he required the element. 

“i know you feel a sense of responsibility, as the avatar, to ensure that the world is kept safe,” she continued on. her voice softened, a sad tone. “i know it upsets you when it isn’t.”

“wasn’t i the one consoling you just a second ago?” aang joked, deflecting. 

“we’re consoling each other.” katara insisted with a small smile. the corners of her mouth dropped at her next statement: “i know you don’t like to talk about it, aang, the stress and pressure that you feel. but i also know how it keeps you up at night. why you choose to sometimes spend long periods of time meditating.”

just like that, she had flipped the switch on him in the way that only she knew how. katara was undoubtedly right. of course he had seen and experienced his fair amount of injustice and morbidity; they all had. but the guilt of not being able to do anything about it - to know that people all over the world were counting on him to end their suffering and plight and despair, while there were many days when all he could do was sit in lavish cushions arguing endlessly with politicians who could not relate to the earth kingdom boy who had nothing to eat, or to the water tribe girl who had lost her parents, or to the air nomad who was the sole survivor of an entire culture - ate away at his heart and mind at every minute of every hour. even now, when he was supposed to be enjoying his blissful vacation with his wife.

“aang.” he felt katara lightly pull his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her before his mind could wander down the same dangerous road that it had so many days and nights before. she stopped the two in their tracks, the light from his palm illuminating their darkened features.

the fire reflected back in the indigo of her eyes, embodying the energy and intensity and life that was katara, his best friend, his saviour. suddenly, he was transported back to a time during the war, when he had just been a fidgety twelve year-old boy staring up at his fourteen year-old best friend. his heart thumped furiously against his chest the closer he inched to her face. when their lips met, he felt electricity course through his veins and wondered if the warmth that pooled in his stomach was what love felt like. 

as he caught her lips in his own again, this time at the age of twenty, he could confirm - a memoir to his twelve year old self - that the warmth was indeed love. but love was also so much more, he came to realize over the years. love was the cautious hands of a fourteen year-old girl spending weeks at his side, healing him from his coma, sobbing in despair and frustration when he would not wake up. love was the way that he had thrown his arms around her waist, and she around his neck, relief flooding each other’s veins at the knowledge that they were both alive and safe and together after his defeat of ozai and her defeat of azula. love was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his, palm pressed to palm and fingers intertwined, as the two watched the early formations of republic city from their home, vowing to leave a lasting legacy on a world where benders and non-benders of all types could live together in safety and harmony.

love was also the brief kiss in an abandoned cave that said a million more things than he could ever say in words. 

when the two pulled back, he noted the way that her eyes twinkled up at him under the fluorescent light. the crystals shone overhead, leading them down a familiar path, just as how it had done when he was twelve. aang checked his left palm and realized that he had extinguished his flame during the kiss. 

katara’s smile reached her eyes when she grabbed for his hand, pulling him along. “funny,” she said, bemused. “that thing you said when we were kids. guess it held up all these years, didn’t it?”

“what thing?”

“oh, you know,” she replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. “you choosing to kiss me over dying - ”

he groaned. she was never going to let him live that one, was she?

“did i say that?” aang feigned innocence. “i can’t quite recall. maybe what my awkward twelve-year old self had meant to say, instead, was that the thought of not being able to kiss you is just so unbearable that i would rather have chosen death.”

“mmhmmm. sure you had.” a blush slowly crept up her cheeks, betraying her sarcastic tone. success.

“good thing that hasn’t happened yet, though. the not being able to kiss you anymore part.” he paused, adding as an afterthought: “the death part, too, if we’re being honest.”

“don’t speak so soon. what if there’s a serial killer in here?” she hushed him, looking around conspiratorially. 

“you’d rather a serial killer kiss you instead of your own husband? ouch.” 

she smacked his arm. “aang! i’m serious. with the recent bender supremacy uprisings going on in major cities of the earth kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. what’s stopping a bender supremacist from kidnapping a bunch of non-benders in omashu and dumping their bodies in this cave right now?”

“well, for starters, we would’ve heard by now if that were the case, wouldn’t we have? there’d be rumours, like with what happened with hama. so far, there hasn’t been any reports of mysterious non-bender disappearances in the cities where the uprisings are taking place. definitely not any in omashu.”

a dark look settled across katara’s face at the mention of the estranged bloodbender. “an earth bender supremacist could be dragging bodies from the city and burying them in the rubble of the tunnels. no one would even think to look because the legend says that the cave is cursed.”

aang scratched his head, suddenly very wary about his surroundings. his eyes scanned everywhere around him, from the plethora of crystals that provided them light on top to the solid stone that held the cave in place, trying to spot any semblance of a decomposing body. just as before, he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

while he knew that katara’s suspicions had merit to them, his mind still hesitated over the idea of a bender supremacist trapping people in caves. he would have heard something by now, if that were the case. besides, they were drawing all of these inferences from a scream that he wasn’t even sure came from a human. the high-pitched sound could have belonged to a species of wolfbats, for all they knew. and even if it were to emerge out of a person, who was to say that it was connected to the victim of a bender supremacist murderer? it could have been from a lost and hungry traveler stuck in the cave for days, unsure of their way out. or perhaps it was from someone whose foot was trapped under rubble, screaming out in sheer pain. maybe it even belonged to a villager being chased by an angry spirit.

he walked over to one of the walls, running his hand over the sharp rocks that pricked at his skin. or perhaps, he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth, it was his own refusal to accept that he was failing the world again that led him to dismiss such possibilities. given the political climate, it was entirely possible that bender supremacists were using their bending to hide bodies within the cave. he just wasn’t aware of any of it because it was all taking place underneath his nose, while he remained in blissful ignorance with the women he loved on what was supposed to be his vacation.

aang closed his eyes. he focused on the vibrations emitting from the ground, trying to detect if there was anything that could give him a clue, like a direction to the source of the scream. he was even searching for the large footsteps of badger moles or the fluttering wings of wolfbats. while he was no toph, his earthbending had vastly improved over the years to the point where he had gotten very good at perceiving the world around and underneath him through vibrations. but this time around, he was sensing absolutely nothing. 

well, not entirely nothing. aang noted that some parts of the earth below his hand felt kind of fresh. and quite warm. it didn’t take an earth bender to realize that their texture and temperature were evidently different from the rocks comprising the rest of the cave. this new formation of rock - whatever it was - also felt very familiar to him, almost like he had dealt with this type before. 

his eyes widened in recognition. it was rock that had hardened after the eruption of a volcano. and not just any ordinary eruption; a special kind of eruption that didn’t require any volcano whatsoever.

lavabending.

“hey, katara. would you be able to come over here? i think i found something.”

aang’s words were interrupted by the sudden howl of a blood-curling scream. this time, he had felt the vibrations perfectly through the earth, and spirits did they hurt. he winced in pain, his ears ringing, reflexively removing his hand off the ground.

the screaming did not seem to stop the longer the seconds passed. multiple more emitted from the path ahead in unison, echoing off the chambers of the cave. his heart pounded. there was no denying that the cries had unmistakably belonged to humans. 

katara already had a stream of water out from her pouch. she had sprang into action, pointing in the precise direction that the noise was coming from. 

“this way,” she shouted, running ahead. 

be careful, he couldn’t help think as he trailed after her.

--

this art was adapted from the following comic panel in imbalance part 2:

[shuadotcom]

Letting You Go | KSJ

꙰   Summary: When returning home from vacation, the only person you want to see is Seokjin. When he isn’t at the airport to greet you, you decide to go to him. What you find breaks your heart. ꙰   Pairing: Seokjin x Female!Reader ꙰   Genre: Angst, idolverse ꙰   Rating: PG13 ꙰   Warnings: Profanity ꙰   Word Count: 2.1k ꙰   Project: @thebtswritersclub‘s February “dishonest love” project ꙰   A/N: Very big thank you to the lovely Noor @papillonsgf​ & Rid @taegularities for beta reading this for me and giving me their suggestions and commentary!! I appreciate you both so much!! 💗💗

You should know something is wrong as soon as you step into the terminal without seeing his broad shoulders hovering inches above the crowd waiting for you. You pull your phone from your backpack and check your messages, hoping to see one with a dozen exclamation points and sad faces accompanying an apology about being late. Instead, there are two new messages from Hoseok and Taehyung, asking when you would be landing back in Seoul.

You reply and tell them both that you’re already here and that you’ll stop by their dorm after dropping your luggage off at home. You scan the crowd once more before dragging your large suitcase behind you to get a taxi.

Two hours later, with your luggage sitting in the living room to unpack later, you’re leaving your apartment after a quick shower. You change into a blush pink sundress that Seokjin always compliments, saying he loves how the pastel color looks against your skin tone. On your feet are a pair of white heeled sandals he had bought you because he said he liked how they make your legs look.

The sun is hot as it beats down on you, making you start to sweat. You pick up the pace while cursing the unforgivable late summer heat. You arrive at the building soon after and greet the security guard at the desk. You’ve been here enough times that he recognizes you and always gives you a huge smile and loud greeting when you arrive. Once off of the elevator and in front of the apartment, it only takes two knocks before the door is thrown open, and you’re engulfed in a hug.

"Noona, you're back!" Jungkook pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Kook." You laugh and ruffle the younger man’s hair. Given his height, you have to stand on your tippy-toes, even in heels. You slip off said shoes and stick your feet into a pair of pink slippers by the door. Seokjin has often told you to leave a pair of your own there since you were at their place so much.

"Do I hear who I think I hear?!" Hoseok's voice reaches the living room, and you see his dark head of hair appear from the hallway as he runs over to pick you up and spin you.

"Hobi put me down. I’m too heavy!"

"Nope! And just because you said that, I'm going to keep holding you!" He tightens his grip on your waist and continues to twirl with you, making you let out a string of giggles.

"Hobi, put her down before she gets dizzy!" Hoseok sighs yet stops at Namjoon’s words. He’s next to pull you into a hug, followed by Jimin and Taehyung, who come barreling out of one of the other rooms. Yoongi is the last who’s been in the kitchen the whole time.

"I started making lunch for you since Taehyung and Hoseok said you'd be coming over." Yoongi grins at you, causing you to do the same.

"Aww, thank you, Yoongi! You guys are way too nice to me."

"Hey, stop. You're our friend, and we like having you around," Taehyung says, pulling you down to sit next to him on the couch.

"So, how was your trip? Was it nice to be back home?" Namjoon asks as he takes a seat on the couch next to you. Hoseok and Jungkook squeeze in next to him, squishing you against Taehyung.

"It was great. I enjoyed seeing my family again." You went on to tell them about your family reunion and how much had changed in your four years away from your home country. You left Korea in late June, only anticipating staying until early July, but you had gotten so caught up in being home again that you extended your trip to the whole summer.

As much as you love talking to your best friends about your family, you can’t help but gaze down the hallway. Everyone you have wanted to see has come and greeted you except for the person you wanted to see the most.

Once you finish your story, Yoongi announces that lunch is done, and he brings the large pot of noodles to the middle of the dining room table. Before anyone seats themselves, you finally ask the question that’s been gnawing away at you.

"So, where's Seokjin?" The question causes silence to overtake the room. The guys all share a look before glancing at you. Jimin is the one who speaks up first.

"He's out right now. He had a, uh, meeting."

"Oh. That's probably why he didn't pick me up from the airport. I texted him last night, and he said he would, but he probably forgot." More glances are exchanged. Before anyone else can say anything, the front door is opened, and the voice you’d waited to hear in person sounds throughout the apartment.

"I'm home!" You feel a smile break out across your face, but you don’t care about how goofy you probably look. You stand from the couch, intending to meet Seokjin when he rounds the corner into the living room.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” With Seokjin being the only thing on your mind, you shake off the hand that Namjoon places on your shoulder and barely hear him from beside you.

"Seokjin, I'm back, and I..." Your sentence trails off as you see him enter the room, hand-in-hand with a petite Korean girl.

"Oh, Y/n, you're here!" Seokjin flashes you a large, bright grin, not noticing how your own smile has slipped away. He lets go of the girl's hand and crosses the room to sweep you into a hug that you only meekly return. "When did you get here?"

"Um, about half an hour ago." If he has any recollection of the conversation you had last night where he said he would meet you at the airport, he doesn’t let on.

"Well, I'm happy you're back! I'd like you to meet someone. The guys already met her last month, but Y/n, this is my girlfriend, Juhee. Juhee, this is my best friend, Y/n." The dark-haired girl bows to you, and you return the gesture even though you don’t want to.

Seokjin then goes on to talk about how they met, not that you’re listening. The only sound you hear is your heart beating too loudly and the blood rushing through your ears. Your stomach begins the acrobatic act that it always does when Seokjin is in the room, but it’s much different this time. Your hands are sweaty, and your body is shaking as you feel the hot, painful sting of tears in your eyes. Taehyung’s hand has slipped into yours at some point, trying to give you comforting squeezes.

"Right, Y/n?" Seokjin is speaking to you, which breaks you out of your stupor.

"What?"

"I said, we've been friends for almost three years, right?" You nod, too afraid to speak. Your throat is dry as a rush of dizziness makes your head spin.

You eye the girl that’s smiling and nodding next to Seokjin. She’s the same height as you, but that's where the similarities stop. Her hair is jet black and pin-straight, probably naturally that way. Her skin is clear and pale, and she’s the type of thin that you’d never be, no matter how hard you exercised. She’s everything you’re not and probably more.

You have to leave before you break down completely.

Without another word, you rush past Seokjin and leave the apartment as quickly as possible. Without any responses to the men calling your name behind you, you’re out of the door and all but running down the hall to the elevator.

“Fucking come on!” you hiss, fingers jabbing the call button with enough force to break it. Your vision is blurring, and your throat feels tight, feeling yourself about to cry.

Finally, the elevator dings, and the doors open, but before you can step in, you feel a warm hand on your upper arm, turning you around.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Seokjin’s close and looking at you with concern. His eyes immediately widen in panic at the sight of the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Y/n, why-"

"Do you love me?" you blurt out. He looks taken back at the outburst.

"Wh-what?"

"I said do you love me?"

"Of course. You're one of my closest fr-"

"As more than a friend?" His mouth opens and closes a few times, his grip on your arm tightening slightly.

"Y/n, I have a girlfriend now." Again, that word, coming from his mouth and not talking about you, shatters your heart all over again and pushes more tears from you.

"I thought...I thought you were in love with me..." You watch his eyebrows furrow before his mouth goes slack. "Oh, I get it. You're allowed to flirt with me and buy me things and hold my hand and call me 'baby,’ but that doesn't make me your girlfriend." You yank your arm from his hold. It feels as though your heart is going to beat out of your chest by this point. "You can fall asleep on the phone with me, and you can fuck me whenever you're horny, but I'm not good enough to date?" Seokjin glances over his shoulder, probably making sure no one has overheard your loud tone.

"Y/n, I-"

"So what were we, Seokjin? Friends with benefits?" You’re met with silence. "I've been in love with you for two years, Seokjin! Two years! I’d feel like the luckiest girl on the fucking planet when you’d pull me into your lap or brush my hair out of my face or kiss my cheek. I fall for you more and more every day! Every time you touch me or compliment me or even smile at me, I feel like I’m going to explode because I’m full of so much happiness and love for you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except you, Kim Seokjin, but you obviously never felt the same. I was just someone to pretend with until you got a real girlfriend, right?" On top of the pain in your chest, you’re also bubbling with anger at this point.

"Y/n, it's not like that. I care about you so much, I really do. I just...I never saw you as someone who could be my girlfriend."

"Why? Why her and not me?"

“Y/n-”

“Is it because she’s prettier than me? Am I too ugly to be your girlfriend?”

"Come on, no! You're amazing, and I think you're beautiful."

"Then why don't you love me, Seokjin?!"

"I don't know! I just don't know, okay?! But it doesn't matter because I'm with Juhee now, and I really like her!" You swallow the lump in your throat. That's all you needed to hear.

You turn on your heels and press the elevator button again. This time when the doors open, you step in without being stopped by Seokjin. It isn’t until the doors start to close that his hand shoots out and stops them. "Y/n, please don't hate me." You avoid looking at him, and you push his hand away.

"I don’t hate you, Seokjin." This is true. Your outburst has erased all traces of anger in you. All you feel now is a hollow emptiness in your gut. "Just don't talk to me for a while, okay?" You hit the button to close the doors, and this time, your eyes are on his face the whole time. You take in all of his features once more before the doors close and the elevator starts to move.

Once you’re alone, the real sobs you’ve been holding in slip out in the form of a shrill scream. More hot tears run down your face as you lean back against the wall, wrapping your arms around yourself as some form of comfort.

It isn’t until the elevator stops at the lobby that you realize you’re still wearing your slippers. There is no way you’re going back upstairs for your shoes, so you leave the building in the pink, opened-toed house shoes and start your walk home. Seeing how Seokjin has bought you those sandals, it is probably better that they stay anyway. You think of it as a small piece of him you’re leaving behind.

Picking up the pace, you’re intent on going home and getting rid of everything he has ever bought for you or given you as a gift. You make a note to get rid of the dress you’re wearing as soon as you get inside. The sooner you can get all thoughts of Kim Seokjin out of your head, the quicker you hope to be able to heal the painful, gaping hole in your chest.

[ikeromantic]

Loyalties

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. Approx. 1700 words. Takes place in the romantic epilogue - spoilers!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Hero's Welcome

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Kyubei kept busy running messages between Mitsuhide and his city contacts, and fetching items for the chatelaine. Though he supposed she didn’t really hold that title now. Now she was . . . well, a princess of the Oda. Soon to be Lady Akechi, if the two lovers had their way.

In all the years he’d served Mitsuhide, Kyubei never saw his lord so at peace. Though he was confined to the manor and still under suspicion - officially - and they had years of work to make the ‘new’ shogun fit, he seemed . . . happy. He spent hours in the garden or in his room with his fiance. And in the halls, the servants could hear their laughter. It was such a change. One Kyubei firmly hoped would continue. But life had taught him that these moments were treasures because they were ephemeral. Sweet because they were rare.

He waited for the axe to fall because it was inevitable.

When trouble finally arrived, it came bearing a box of sweets and an angelic smile.

Kyubei welcomed Ranmaru with a slight bow, and showed him to the chatelaine’s room in Mitsuhide’s manor. Though she spent her nights with his lord, her days she spent here - sewing. This was her passion, and it showed in the quality of her work.

Ranmaru thanked Kyubei, and as the door slid shut, he was already chattering away about his day and the sweets he’d made.

***

Mitsuhide folded and sealed the last of the days missives. He stared at the pile of letters and sighed. As the left hand of Nobunaga Oda, his work was never really done. There would be more reports, more letters, more planning and orders to send . . . and his lands needed him as well. He had projects to authorize and titles to bestow. And all he wanted to do was to curl up beside his little one and remind her how much he loved her with a thousand kisses.

He stood and stretched. This time of day, she was probably in her room working. His little one didn’t know that he already knew about the haori she was making for him. It was her surprise and he wasn’t going to ruin it by admitting he’d seen it, albeit in pieces, already.

As Mitsuhide approached her room, he heard the sound of another voice, high and young and full of forced joy. Ranmaru. He knocked lightly before sliding open the door.

His beloved sat across from the page, a little tray between them. There were sweets and tea. A little wooden box sat open beside her.

“My little mouse, I didn’t know you had a guest.” Mitsuhide smiled at Ranmaru.

The page stood. “I was actually just about to leave. I only came to drop off this gift for the princess.” He gestured to the box of sweets.

“They’re really good,” she picked up a small, colored sweet. “Do you want to try one Mitsuhide?”

Ranmaru pretended a gasp. “My lady! Those are only for you.” He glanced at Mitsuhide out of the corner of his eye. “I made them myself - so you could enjoy them.”

She laughed. “Well then you can’t complain if I share.”

“It’s alright. Such things are wasted on me.” Mitsuhide kept smiling but something in his chest tightened at the glib expression on Ranmaru’s face.

“Well good. I want you to eat them all up! Then I’ll bring you something else next time I try out a new recipe.” Ranmaru tittered.

His glee was grating on Mitsuhide’s nerves. He knew the boy was a spy for the Kennyo and this forceful mask he wore in his role here was bothersome. Still, Mitsuhide had all but promised he wouldn’t out the abbot’s protege. “I’m sure she would like that,” he said, “now, let me walk you out. I want to send a message along to Nobunaga.”

“Bye Ranmaru! I hope you can visit again soon,” the princess called as they left.

Mitushide walked alongside Ranmaru, his mind turning over the facets of this relationship. He wanted the page to stay away but did not want to make an unsubtle threat. This needed a cautious touch.

“She’s a very trusting girl,” Ranmaru said into the silence between them. “She thinks the best of everyone. Even you.”

“And you.” Mitsuhide stopped, looking down at the bright-eyed page. “Why were you really here today?”

Ranmaru smiled wider. “To bring her a gift, as I said. She’s used to accepting things from my hand. She doesn’t even question where it came from. Or what might be in it.”

Mitsuhide felt something in him turn hollow. His mouth curved in a sharp smile. “I see.” He gestured toward the front entry. “Thank you for stopping in. I do hope you have a safe walk back to the castle. Azuchi can be a dangerous place.”

“I’m not worried.” Ranmaru’s fixed grin betrayed nothing. “Didn’t you have a message for Lord Nobunaga?”

“I’ve decided it would be best to speak with him in person.”

Ranmaru shrugged, his smile going a little crooked. Then he turned and left.

Kyubei appeared from a nearby doorway. “Should I . . .”

“No. But I will bring you what remains of these sweets. Check them carefully.”

“Yes my lord.”

Mitsuhide returned to his beloved. She appeared fine. In high spirits after her visitor, even. She didn’t mind it when he sent the remaining goodies to the kitchen, suspecting nothing.

“Do you like Ranmaru very much?”

His little mouse laughed softly. “He’s really sweet. And I think a bit sad. Why? Are you jealous?”

Mitsuhide pulled her into his lap and nipped at her neck. “Mmm, no. I know you are mine. But, do you trust him little mouse?”

She straightened, her expression suddenly serious. “Why? Is there a reason I shouldn’t? Do you know something?”

It was tempting to tell her. Afterall, he’d promised no lies between them. But he’d promised Kennyo that Ranmaru’s secret was safe with him. It seemed he would never be free of conflicting promises and unintentional betrayals. Mitsuhide sighed. “Has he told you anything? Mentioned his past or his friends? His family?”

“No. He doesn’t talk much about himself at all, actually.” She was thoughtful, still in his arms. “I don’t think he would hurt me but . . . I don’t think he likes you very much either.”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I have that impression.”

“So . . . maybe I should find out more about him.” She sighed. “I guess as your wife, I can’t really trust anyone. Well, except maybe Hideyoshi. I don’t think he’d ever do anything underhanded.”

“Not well,” Mitsuhide laughed.

“It’s hard to think about people that way. I want to believe everyone is good.”

Mitsuhide gently combed his fingers through her hair. “I want you to still see the world that way. But please, little one, be careful.”

“I will be.” She smiled and kissed him. Her mouth was sweet and hot and what started as a light kiss deepened quickly between them.

No matter how many times Mitsuhide tasted her, it felt like the first time. New and exciting, forbidden. His desire for her only grew with their time together.

“My lord?” Kyubei called from just outside the closed door.

Mitsuhide reluctantly broke the kiss between them. “Come in.” His little one tried to slide off his lap to sit beside him, but he held her in place. Damned if he was going to let go just because they were interrupted.

“I am sorry to interrupt, my lord. I came to let you know dinner will be late today.” He glanced toward the princess. “I should have left you those candies awhile longer! If you want to eat the rest, the box is in the kitchen.”

His little mouse shrugged. “That’s ok, Kyubei. I’m not that hungry yet. Thank you for dropping in to tell us.”

“Of course, my lady.” Kyubei bowed again. Then he left.

Mitsuhide felt a coil of tension release inside him. Ranmaru might be an enemy by loyalty, but he hadn’t hurt his little one. The conversation between them was a warning. He leaned his head against his little one, inhaling her scent. “I think perhaps we need to get away from the city for a time. Would you like that, little one?”

“Hmm, where would we go? There aren’t any Sengoku resorts or amusement parks.” She laughed. “Where do warlords go on vacation?”

“Vacation? Another word from your time? It means to get away?”

“From work, yes. Like, to take a break away from the place you live.” She relaxed against him.

Mitsuhide considered. “We could visit my lands. You’ve yet to see them. Or, is there some place you want to visit?”

She closed her eyes. “I wish . . . I wish I could show you my home. All my favorite places. There’s a coffee shop by my flat where they make a cat face in the froth and the barista always gives me a free cookie. And a movie theater with the best soda. And I could take you on a roller coaster!” She laughed. “I’d love to see your face on the first hill.”

“I would like that.”

“Yeah. But we can’t.” His little one took a shaky breath. “I can’t regret deciding to stay here with you. I love you more than anything. But I sometimes wish that you could meet my mom and dad. My friends. I wish they could know how happy I am. How lucky. I mean . . .”

Mitsuhide waited for her to continue, but she said nothing for several long breaths. “What is it? What do you mean?” He tilted her chin up so that he could see her face. She was fighting tears.

“It’s just, I don’t want to cry. There’s nothing to cry about.”

“Little one, if you need to cry, then do. You don’t have to pretend in front of me.” He pulled her closer. This sudden sadness surprised him. He’d thought she was as pleased as he.

“They probably think I’m dead. My parents. My friends. Or worse. I wish I could at least tell them I’m ok.” The words came in little gasps as she let her tears out.

Mitsuhide stroked her back. He wished he could do something to cheer her, but this was beyond his abilities. Or was it? The ninja from Echigo - the one from her time - he might know of a way to get a message across at least. It was a long shot, but the kitsune warlord would not let his beloved taste more sorrow than her share. Not if he could help it.

Next: Lunches with Friends

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.