#.....i say that as if my grandma's strong accent is soft at all

[vv-ispy]

@ genshin release the yun jin operatic version hilitune

[colorworlding]

Fast question, and pardon if it says this anywhere in the comic, but do they live in upstate new york, or new york city new york? Wanna know if I should throw my singular new york city accent on them or just do my best attempt at trying to not sound heavily Midwestern.

Oh my goodness, this gives me the chance to say how I imagine their voices sound like accent-wise! This is going to be a long reply, because it’s been in my head for so long! (I’m also going to give a bit of extra info, just in case anyone is ever wondering the same as you!)

In my head, Todd and Rory live in a fictionalized suburb very very close to the city, but not close enough to be considered part of any neighborhood. Todd lived in a different town than Angelica and Chip, but they were in a similar situation (albeit less close to the city.) So upstate! THAT BEING SAID, sometimes some characters lived in NYC. Adult Rory lives there, and Todd lived there when he went to CCNY for college. Rasheed lives in New York City.

As far as I’ve looked up, the NY accent is slowly dying out over the past generations, but different areas still produce different accents. (For example, the Bronx accent!) Knowing that, I tried to reflect on that in their speech. And there are some Midwestern accents too! I’ll describe how I hear delivery for everyone major I can think of below. (and PLEASE DON’T WORRY ABOUT ACCENTS OR GETTING THINGS PERFECT. IT’S JUST HOW THE VOICES SOUND WHEN I READ OUT DIALOGUE IN MY HEAD, AND THIS IS MORE SPECIFIC JUST IN CASE YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE IN GENERAL.)

Grandpa Blue: (Todd’s Dad) I imagined a heavy New Yorker’s accent, with a more… defenseless voice. This will have an effect on his children that Todd personally considers devastating

Grandma Blue: (Todd’s Mom) Take the biggest Karen in the world. Now imagine she’s mad at you

Angelica: She has a watered down accent! It isn’t as strong as her father’s, but you can tell where she lived. Her voice is lower, more decisive and snappy. She does have a vague voice claim! As in… not the right accent, but I liked her tone. When she is angry, she sounds decisive and absolute, like you can’t argue with her.

Todd: Complicated, like his mental health! If you say hello to him in 2003, he would sound almost accentless. BUT THIS IS FORCED. Really, he is exactly the same as Angelica in terms of having an accent, and hates it. He thinks it’s embarrassing. He tries to mask it at all costs, which started in high school. He stands in front of a mirror and practices talking like an articulated news reporter because he wants to Look Perfect and Sound Perfect, too, but it’s still somewhat there. The more frantic, stressed, or angry he gets, he gradually loses that voice mask completely and speaks like he always has known to. THE BEST EXAMPLE I CAN THINK OF THAT CAN SHOW THE GRADUAL SHIFT FROM AVERAGE AMERICAN ACCENT TO A DERANGED NEW YORKER IS THIS.

As for voice itself, he was a theatre kid! He can speak energetically, clearly, dramatically, for whatever delivery he wants. He can reach higher pitches to low pitches if he realllllly wants to.

Chip: I Got No Clue What People From Colorado Talk Like! As for delivery, it would depend on if he is masking. If he’s not, then his delivery is flat. It also depends on who he’s talking to! He doesn’t mask around his parents, Angelica (if she isn’t in a mood, and only after 1998), or Rory! If he is masking, he essentially reflects the engagement/tone of the person he’s talking to.

Rory: No accent! Nothing specific! He sounds like a 6-year-old! (His adult voice is soft-spoken and quiet.)

Bianca: FINALLY, FINALLY I HAVE A REASON TO SAY THIS! BIANCA ISN’T FROM NEW YORK AT ALL WHATSOEVER, SHE’S FROM THE MIDWEST AND HAS A NOTICEABLE MIDWEST ACCENT! (AND BECAUSE I LIVE THERE I GOT ALL SPECIFIC ABOUT IT.) She, her mother, and her siblings moved to New York from Birdseye, Indiana in the 2002-2003 school year. Her being a kid that’s new in town WOULD be evident just in the way she speaks ALONE, but sadly she is in a comic. She speaks specifically like she is from Southern Indiana, but any Midwestern accent would work for her!

Miss White: No accent! Lovely Miss White! Very sweet voice! She’s naive! But! But!! Always sincere in her words!!!

OKAY I’M DONE I’M SORRY FOR THE INFODUMP THANK YOU FOR ASKING IM HAPPY YOURE DOING THIS

[distopea]

A Night in Sicily

PS notes: dialogues are in English, but they all chat in Italian ✌️

“No, no, no! Matheo! God dammit how many times have I told you? Fuck you, why did we miss that this idiot had the petit in his sleeve from the first minute!” 

“Oh here we go again… Shut up, Tomaso, you were never good at playing the French Tarot anyway…” 

“You fucking should have played it earlier! Dammit! That’s basically cheating!” 

“What? Hey, who do you call a cheater? Learn to count the trumps! I won, so suck it off! You should have seen it coming the moment I called for the Heart King!” 

Another lively night in Palermo, the distant fading sound of the cicadas still invading the living room. They were all around the same large wooden table, sharing a meal before their departure the next morning. Alba, the matrone and mother of Mario, the head of the local Albertini mafia, was spying from the kitchen, a frown on her features. She was surely too old to be there, standing while they were all sitting, but there was no discussion possible. Whenever Alba would demand their presence around the table, there was no man strong enough in Palermo to refuse her invitation. And no one bold enough to ever forbid her from cooking for them. 

Her wrinkled features came out of the kitchen with two large plates of tiramisu ready to be served, and suddenly, there was a general whimper escaping everyone’s throat, Gabriele’s included. Well, he almost forgot that Gabriele was his real name here; he had been called Lorenzo for years now (his alias for the mission), sitting among them, and sharing the same food. Everything felt a bit blurry for a couple of months now. “No, mama, no!” Mario shook his head and massaged his eyelids, quickly followed by Tomaso and Matheo, who were not interested in their game cards anymore and patted their bellies with nothing but pain written on their features. “We’re stuffed, how do you want us to fit in our suits tomorrow if you keep feeding us like this… I need to see my abs, mama!” 

“No slander under my roof!” Alba answered in her usual rolling accent from the South of Sicily, as she tapped Gabriele’s shoulder and offered her famous manipulative smile; the one who let him know that he wouldn’t be able to bargain. “See how my good boy Lorenzo is treating me. He never says no to me!” There was another general huff, and Mario this time only chuckled. “Always using Lorenzo as your scapegoat whenever you need someone to be kind to you. That poor boy can’t say no, that’s a part of his job!” 

She slammed a generous amount of tiramisu inside of Gabriele’s plate, the young man, barely at the end of his twenties, quite cornered right now. He was her best excuse. She almost shoveled a spoon between his fingers, and she eventually tousled his hair with a profound tenderness. “He’s more educated than any of you! He’s like a grandson to me… A good-mannered boy, who never lets down his mama. I’m proud of him!” There were more protests around them, but the atmosphere was nothing but genuine. A family reunion with people who could trust and respect each other. 

A family… 

A grandson… 

She had never said that before, at least, not out loud. He had always felt it; despite her rude and brutal manners, Alba was nothing but welcoming and soft. Like with her current grandsons, Matheo and Tomaso, she was openly showing affection towards Gabriele. He was a member of this family, and despite his profound need to fight this truth, he knew that he was sinking into this dangerous sea. As they kept arguing against the forced dessert of their grandma, Gabriele looked up, shudders traveling through his entire body. 

Who was he? 

He had vowed to protect citizens from people like Mario, Matheo or Tomaso. He had abandoned his true identity to sneak into the wolf’s den, so certain that none of them could ever be humans. Monsters, assassins, deviants… And yet, he was just like them. They were playing cards in the evening, talking about girls, art, their dreams and fears they might share… They could laugh until tears would bloom at the corners of their eyes, and they could fight like brothers for the slightest thing. He was hugged by Mario whenever he was doing a good job, he was poked by Tomaso all the time, and he would spend his Friday evening fixing Matheo’s bike with a cold beer. He always felt the urge to defend those he mistakenly considered as his brothers, his heart and soul torn apart by his identity fading and changing over the years, the name of Gabriele sometimes surfacing through one phone call or one secret meeting to share the intel he had gathered. 

Who was he? 

There was no monster in front of him, but humans, with a different vision of life, with different codes and manners, but surely a heart and emotions. Because, in the end, who was wrong? Who was the most monstrous among all the protagonists of this story? Were they truly to blame when the police had failed so many times to protect people? Wasn’t he such a fraud, sitting there and sharing their loving atmosphere, as if his intentions and mission weren’t to destroy them? No, no… He had to believe in their cause. He had to believe in his vows. He had seen the blood, he had seen violence and self-justice. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn”t right. 

Was he… wrong about this too? 

“Fratello…” Tomaso shook his arm, and Gabriele understood he had been the head in the clouds for too long. “Care to show Matheo how you play well?” 

“Ugh, we never know what’s in Lorenzo’s head, that’s a bad idea. He’ll beat us if he ever gets to call the King first.” 

“Oh come on, when he plays you whimper and when he doesn’t, you beg for his help… Come on Lorenzo, let’s show him!” 

"Alright, but both of you will clean my bike if you lose, so you better get your sponges and soap ready."

His heart was in the depths of his stomach, his emotions shattered. Yet, he nodded and decided to live this lie for a bit longer. He gripped the card and clipped a brand new cigarette at the corner of his lips, mask on, as he was indeed playing the game so well. He was not a monster… He was not a monster…

He was not… 

A MONSTER. 

[abovethesmokestacks]

Kiss Me

Title: Kiss Me

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Very intense kissing? Some grinding?

I am back on my Henry bullshit, this time with the lovely Captain Syverson. As with my last Henry fic, this came about from a discussion with Brooke, which led to a personalized fic, and she graciously okayed me posting it as a reader insert for the rest of you to enjoy. Partly inspired by the video of strangers kissing for the first time. And if this guy were the one I’d get to kiss? Hold on while I go full koala on him.

The early afternoon sun had seemed blistering when she left her apartment, and the sundress had been the obvious option; light, breezy material, a pretty pattern that combined comfort and style. The sun had nothing on the man sitting down opposite her now, radiating a kind of warmth and confidence that had heat creeping up her chest and neck, her fingers fiddling in her lap.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, an audition call shared by a recent acquaintance on Instagram. Film majors at the nearby college needed volunteers for a course project, weekend appointments, no experience needed, come as you are. Sounded fun, her weekends were mostly open anyway. What could possibly go wrong. She had messaged the contact person, gotten an address and a time to show up.

The first shock, admittedly, had come as she was signed in, given a form to fill out, detailing the project. She. Was going to kiss. A stranger. In front of cameras. For a film project. 

“Miss? Are you alright?” The bubbly brunette who had signed her in, Abigail, according to the name tag tacked to her t-shirt, had looked at her, and she realized she must have made a sound.

“No! No, I'm fine, I- I just didn’t realize I’d- That this was-”

“Oh! Oh, you’ll be fine, there will be people in the room, you'll be safe as houses, darling, we won't say your names, that'll be up to you to share if you want.” The twang of her accent had was oddly comforting, but her heart was still racing, and suddenly, the handful of people lined up sitting in the corridor seemed all the more dangerous. She was going to kiss one of them. Fuck. Hastily, she'd filled out the rest of the form, handing it back and taking the number given, finding the nearest chair and trying to rifle through her purse as discreetly as she could for a chewing gum or a breath mint. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She had nearly launched out of her seat when her number was called, probably doing a credible impression of a deer caught in headlights. Abigail had smiled at her, motioning for her to follow.

“I promise, you will be fine. Our project manager wanted to explore the intimacy of the first kiss, what happens in those seconds before.”

“Why strangers?”

“It’s more… honest,” Abigail had said. “Couples know each other, know what to expect. They are comfortable. And it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing sweeter. I still remember my grandpa kissing my grandma goodnight when my brother and I would stay over when we were kids, the absolute comfort and love between them. But strangers, they don’t know what to expect. There’s a level of trust between them, courage to take the leap.”

That’s… She couldn’t decide if that eased her mind or set it racing even more. She’d simply nodded, letting Abigail lead her to a door a little way ahead, unlocking it for her.

“You can leave your purse on the table on the right when you enter. Then go sit in one of the chairs. I’ll bring the guy in shortly. The camera will start rolling as soon as he sits down, you can introduce yourself if you want, just your name, doesn't even have to be your real one if you don't want to, and you can share whatever else you feel comfortable sharing and then…”

“Then we kiss.”

It had seemed so simple, so straightforward in all its terrifying simplicity.

At first, there is only the outline of him, stark against the light outside the room and showing a muscular frame with tensed shoulders and a wary gait. Folding her hands in her lap, she picks at the fabric of her dress, folding the skirt into tight pleats between her fingers, following the man as he inches closer. Dark jeans that reveal long legs and thick thighs, a worn t-shirt tucked into them that stretches over a chest that is… impressive. His face, though… His face is what sets her heart fluttering all anew. A strong jaw, hidden under a neatly trimmed beard, a slightly pouty lower lip and a perfect cupid’s bow. His nose looks like it may have been broken once, but it’s been set pretty well, lends character to his face, enhanced by the clear blue of his eyes that focus in on her. His hair is short, curling a little at the ends, but kept as neat as his beard, almost like a military man, but she can spot no chain around his neck that would hold his dog tags.

And then, he’d walked in. 

She barely hears the murmur to her left when the cameras start rolling.

He doesn’t speak until he’s sitting down, gaze on her, softening a little as he holds out a hand.

“Ca- Shit, sorry. No names, right?” He looks at her, almost a little scared that he’s messed up, and it is far too endearing for such a rugged man.

Without hesitation, she gives her first name, her real first name, a little surprised at herself for offering it along with her hand. His hand is calloused, warm and big, her own palm almost drowning in his clasp when he takes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The man laughs, releasing her hand and relaxing in his seat. “Sy. Nice to meet you, too. Pardon me if I'm being rude, but you don't sound like you're from around here.”

“Here for work for the next couple of months. Gotta say, you've got a pretty good ear.”

His eyes sparkle, a smile tugging at his lips, and god, the heat rises in her again, different from the apprehension that had her worked up just moments ago. He is the kind of man that draws you in, that can make you melt with a look, and she is fading fast. She is going to kiss him. He is going to kiss her.

“I won't hold it against you," Sy quips, hands resting on his thighs, and god, she wants to feel them on her.

"Me not being from around here? Or are we talking about something else?"

"Well, I was thinking the first..."

His words trail off, the suggestion hanging heavy in the silence. It feels like it stretches an eternity between them, but it's probably no more than five seconds. She's about to ask if they should start, if she should move, but Sy is looking at her, gaze wandering, assessing. The way he takes her in,i's not objectifying or greedy, not judgmental. It's… curiosity. Assessing her, planning his move, appreciating her, and she can feel it, feel his gaze move up and down her face, when it dips down for a fraction to her chest.

Everything fades with his first move. There are no cameras, no people, no one but them. Sy moves slowly, deliberately, scooting to sit on the edge of the chair, knee knocking against hers. It's electric, making her flinch and gasp, and that seems to please him. His hand comes up to rest on her knee, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, locking eyes with her, willing her to relax.

"There we go…" Sy croons when she lets out a small sigh, his voice low and velvety. "Just relax. 'S just you an' me here. Don’t need to think about the rest of ‘em.. I'll be good, darlin', you can trust me. Isn't that right?"

She can only nod, inching towards the edge of her own chair, drawn into his warmth, the gentle timbre of his voice, the smolder behind the blue of his eyes.

"Yeah, that’s right, sugar. C’mon, come closer.”

His voice is hypnotic, not quite a purr, not quite a rumble, but it begs to be obeyed. She leans in closer, the two of them mirroring each other, and the tension is no longer in his shoulder, but sparking between them. His measured breaths fan lightly against her skin, and though everything in her should, by all logic, tell her to run, she finds herself relaxing. Sy’s thumb keeps working tight little circles, and he moves slowly, giving her plenty of time to see his intentions, and God, she welcomes it, tilts her head to welcome him.

It’s no explosion of stars or fireworks. His lips are a little chapped, but he knows how to kiss, working against her in soft pressure and the tease of his tongue along the seam of her lips. It’s not forcing the kiss, just giving her the option, showing that he is offering. When his other hand comes up to cup her cheek, she can’t help the needy whine that escapes her, and Sy smiles into the kiss, deepens it a little, swipes his tongue along her lips again.

She opens, happily surrendering, feeling him push back, soothing his thumb along her cheekbone. He kisses like she is the one thing he has been longing for, his happily ever after at the end of a long adventure. She kisses like he is the single point of stability in a storm, the one safe harbour in the entire world. Their spaces intertwine, slowly phasing and his one hand on her cheek is nowhere near enough. She pushes, Sy gives, and in one fluid moment and a happy sigh, she has straddled his lap, slinging her arms around his neck. She’s not letting go, not leaving this moment, and it’s almost like triumph when he embraces her, palms splaying on her back and she can feel the warmth through the thin material of her dress.

It’s a kiss for the ages, and they’re both hungry, both taking what the other gives freely. Sy’s hands wander, his fingertips teasing at the neckline to brush against heated skin, and she digs short, manicured nails into the skin of his neck, revelling in the groan he lets out. He pulls her closer, and oh. Her stomach does a somersault, a surprised giggle punctuating their kiss. Under her, Sy is hard, and the brief contact makes her all too aware of just how damp her panties have gotten.

There’s a less than discreet cough, and it pops their bubble, their gazes both snapping to the sound. 

Right.

The film crew are standing behind their gear, some squirming, clearly a little uncomfortable. Sy gives a laugh, and it’s hard not to follow. She still feels winded from the kiss, head swimming, and she touches her forehead to his, biting her lower lip.

“I think we… might have overdone it,” she whispers, lips brushing against his cheek.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sy agrees, his shoulders shuddering with poorly disguised mirth. He looks up at the film crew, “So, are we good?”

“Yup, great! We’re really- we’re good, you guys can, uh… Yeah. Good. Thanks. Um. Yeah. Great.”

They both laugh again at the awkward crew member, and she slowly eases off Sy’s lap. It’s too much of a temptation not to glance down, to raise an eyebrow at the visible bulge pressing against his jeans. He gives her a mock-chiding look before getting up himself, taking care to not face the crew as he falls into step next to her.

“Look,” he says as soon as they are out of the building, wringing his hands as he walks, “I know we just met, and that… that back there was for a project. But, god, sugar, you got my head spinning all kinds of ways, and I… it would be rude to ask to continue right away where we left off, much as I… god, I would really, really like to kiss you again, and… other things… But maybe you would be okay with a date? Anywhere you want. You can get to know me better. I’ll answer any questions you have, I’ll bring character references, I’ll pay for dinner and dessert, whatever you want.”

Halting, she tilts her head and looks up at him. The steely look that had assessed her when he’d entered the room is gone, as is most of the smoldering passion when their kiss had broken. It still lingers in his eyes, simmering behind the hope that made them glitter.

“You’ll answer any question?” she asks, smiling at the way he eagerly nods. “Is your name really Sy?”

“Yes. Well, technically. Syverson’s my last name, so Sy’s just a nickname.”

“And your first name? You started saying something else when you came in.”

“No, that was… I was in the army for a couple of years,” he explained, pulling up one of the sleeves of his shirt to show an army insignia tattooed on his bulging bicep. She bites her tongue, wondering if he had any other tattoos on his body, almost missing when Sy continues speaking, “-made it to captain before I got my honourable discharge. Just became a force of habit to introduce myself as Captain Syverson.”

“So, you’d bring one of your army buddies as your character reference?” She slows down to a stop, clasping her hands in front of herself. “I suppose now that you’re out of the army they wouldn’t feel as compelled to make you look good.”

Sy mirrors her, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped in front of him, and yeah, now she can see it, the posture. Definitely army guy. “No, no, god no! The guys in my unit would sooner throw me under the bus if I asked them to vouch for me in front of a pretty lady.”

“Oh, then who’d get the honour?” she asks, blushing at his compliment.

“When you signed in, there was a girl, right? Brown hair?”

“Abigail.”

“Abby,” Sy says, glancing back towards the building. “She’s my sister. Talked me into coming today, said they needed more people.”

“She must have something major hanging over you if she got you to agree to this.” Her voice is light, joking a she inches closer to him.

“Well…” Sy drawls, taking a step forward and gently grasping her hand, “I was promised a really good kiss.”

“A really good kiss, huh?”

Just like before, he makes the first move, hooking his finger under her chin and holding her still while he closes the space, capturing her lips in another kiss. It’s searing, slowly setting her afire, and she wants it, wants him, wants everything he’s giving and everything he’s offering. He keeps it short, and she can feel herself get up on her tippy toes to get more, and damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. She bites her lower lip.

“So how about that date, huh, darlin’?” Sy husks out, and fuck, she can hear the smile in his voice.

“I can pick the place?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And I can pick the time?”

“Any time you want.”

She reaches out, puts a hand on his neck, drags her fingers along warm skin and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

“Your place. Right now. And dinner… is on me.”

[lettheladylead]

The Golden Heir Chapter 6 - Blood [Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch7] [Ch8]

Dickie opened her eyes to find herself tied up and in a room with a lot of unfamiliar faces. There were a bunch of tied up kids, and two little girls talking to them, and then a surprisingly familiar person was tied to two other people in the corner of the room.

As the boys (triplets? They looked familiar, like she’d seen them on the news) turned to talk to the one little girl that was tied up, Dickie looked over at the adults and sat up straight to make sure she was seeing things right.

“...Gyro?”

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, and everyone looked massively confused except for the two girls that weren’t tied up.

Gyro in particular looked like he was understanding the situation less and less. “...Dickie? Wha...what are you doing here?!”

She looked around the room and noticed that one of the triplets was staring at her like he knew her from somewhere. The other two were animatedly discussing how their Uncle Scrooge was faring in a fight and Dickie finally realized who they all were - Huey, Dewey, and Louie, Scrooge McDuck’s nephews! She wasn’t an expert, but she’d read articles about their family before.

“I’m, uh...not really sure,” she said quietly. “My grandma told me to just do whatever these weird bad guys said or else they’d hurt me, so…”

“Your grandmother…?” Gyro mumbled, looking around the room. “I don’t understand, I thought they were just taking people with a connection to Scrooge.”

The little girls looked at each other and started giggling as the triplets and the other little girl leaned towards each other. Dickie wondered if they were trying to break the ropes holding them up, but that definitely wasn’t going to work. She opened her mouth to say something again when the screen on the wall blipped and suddenly they were all able to see something very frightening.

The two people she’d interacted with earlier - Heron and Bradford, apparently - were standing atop some sort of structure looking even more evil than before.

“Hi Mommy!” June said with a little wave.

“Each of them will soon be erased from existence as well,” Bradford said, and Dickie propped herself into a fully seated position and then tried to scoot closer to Gyro and the other adults.

She didn’t understand what was happening at all but she could see behind Heron was a small group of people chained up and hanging near the edge of the tower, overtop of what seemed like a swirling vortex of doom. Though she could only see a few strands of blonde in the far corner, Dickie knew exactly who was out there.

“Granny…” she said softly, almost too soft for anyone to hear.

Louie, though, glanced back at her with a confused look on his face.

Everyone was silently watching the scene folding outside until Bradford suddenly shoved Heron into the vortex. Dickie wasn’t able to hear everything they said, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t a part of the plan based on how upset the two girls got.

“MOM!”

“NO!!!”

They yelled out and cradled the screen which had turned to just noise.

The girl that was tied to Gyro spoke up. “Wait, he’s gonna get rid of his own team, too?!”

“Do you know how replaceable clones are?” Gyro responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The two little girls turned towards them looking somber and Dickie finally started to realize what was happening. Those little girls must’ve been misguided clones of the other little girl that looked just like them. The one the triplets called Webby.

She still didn’t know what this all had to do with her grandma or with her. Why had Bradford needed her to get that weird piece of paper? Was that the Papyrus that he yelled about before killing Heron?

“Bradford’s lying! Mom told us the story of the Papyrus of Binding. It can only be found by a direct descendant of Scrooge!” the red triplet explained. “I didn’t find it!”

“Me neither!”

“Nah-uh!”

Webby looked confused. “But then...why did Bradford try to have me find it?” She swung around for a moment. “I’m not...I mean...what Granny told me earlier…”

The boys looked at each other. “What did she tell you?”

“That I’m not really her granddaughter…” Webby said sadly, staring down at the floor. “That she found me as a baby in F.O.W.L. headquarters. And Bradford said I was made by F.O.W.L. But...why?”

A heavily-accented voice filled the room with a sing-song response. “Well, obviously they were trying to create a descendant of Scrooge McDuck!”

Everyone stared at the man holding the harmonica and he looked back as if he hadn’t said something strange. “What?”

“So you’re saying…” Huey’s face contorted through a hundred expressions as he put his thoughts together. “May and June are made from Webby and...Webby is made from...Uncle Scrooge?”

Webby’s mouth was hanging open. “Bless me bagpipes…”

“Wait, so, like, does that make Webby Scrooge’s daughter?” Dewey mumbled. “Then why didn’t the Papyrus appear for her?”

“I guess the Papyrus didn’t count it,” Huey said. “If Webby is a genetically modified clone, then I suppose she isn’t technically a descendant.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that they have the Papyrus!” Webby yelped. “So then...how did…?”

Louie’s eyes widened and he turned the group of boys around to look back at Dickie. She knew she needed to say something but felt awkward interrupting during this moment of revelations for their family, but she was starting to come to a conclusion of her own and that needed her full attention.

“Your name is...Dickie, right?”

Gyro looked between Louie and Dickie and almost jumped when he realized what was happening.

“Yeah...um…” Dickie mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“You look a lot like our Aunt Goldie,” Louie continued. The other kidnapees in the room gasped, Gyro and Von Drake excluded, and Louie nodded feeling very confident in his conclusion.

“...Aunt Goldie, huh?” She looked up at Louie and grinned sheepishly. “To me, she’s just...Grandma Goldie.”

“WHAT?!” Huey shouted, shaking the boys around. “Grandma like...like grandma grandma? Goldie O’Gilt?!”

“...yeah.”

Webby was staring at her so intensely and Dickie couldn’t look back. “So...did the Papyrus appear to you?”

Dickie nodded after a moment of hesitation. “He didn’t tell me what it was! I was just following orders so he wouldn’t kill anybody!”

Gyro let out a loud, inhuman noise. “You’ve been related to Scrooge this entire time and never thought to mention it?”

“Well I-I didn’t know!” Dickie yelled, struggling against the rope around her. “She always told me she didn’t know who my grandpa was!”

The kids all looked at Louie, knowing he had a special relationship with Goldie and might have more insight on this situation than the rest of them. He just shook his head. “I’m sure Aunt Goldie had her reasons for keeping this from Uncle Scrooge.”

“Or maybe she...she really didn’t know!” Dickie chimed in. “Just ‘cause this Bradford guy figured it out doesn’t mean Granny knew, right?”

“Oh, she definitely knew,” Von Drake said suddenly, making everyone look at him again. He seemed to have all the answers that no one else did. “Sure, Goldie likes to have fun, but she’d never carry a baby to term unless it was ol’ Scrooge McDuck’s, no doubt about that.”

“...how can you possibly be so sure about that?” Gyro said with a judgemental glare. The girl between them grimaced.

Von Drake opened his mouth to answer, but then stared at the gaggle of children in front of him and quickly shut his beak. “Ah...well. Just, ah, take my word for it.”

Dickie frowned and stared down at the floor. “So...what? I’m...Scrooge McDuck’s granddaughter? And that’s why they brought me here and tied me up? This is kind of insane, you guys know that, right?”

“Considering I just found out I’m a genetically modified clone of your grandpa…” Webby started, pouting her beak. “I think it’s not the craziest thing we learned today.”

“...that’s a good point.”

“Hey!” Dewey spoke up, spinning the boys around. “Does this make you Webby’s niece?”

Dickie and Webby looked at each other curiously. “I never imagined myself with an aunt that’s, like, half my age.”

Webby smiled awkwardly at the older girl and started to respond when her clones finally spoke up after staying silent for so long.

“So that’s it? That’s why we were made? So Bradford could find some dumb piece of paper and get rid of us?!” May shouted, staring down at her hands.

“...we weren’t even good enough to do that. We never have been.”

Dickie watched the girls talking to each other as Webby went into a little rant about family, and leaned back against the wall behind her. Sure, alright, she was technically Scrooge McDuck’s family. But that was just through blood. She definitely didn’t feel like his family. She didn’t even know him.

Knowing that her grandma kept this from her made Dickie feel like she wasn’t even a part of the family she knew. Of course families kept secrets from each other. Even the family in front of her - as much as they loved each other and kept each other strong, they clearly had a lot of secrets that’d just come out in the last day. Maybe she shouldn’t be so picky. At least she didn’t just learn she’s a clone of the richest guy on earth.

“Please...help us save our family,” Webby finished, and the two other girls looked at each other for a moment before smiling and reaching out to undo their knots.

[pokesaurio]

I find it hard to believe that New Amsterdam has such little fanfiction. It’s a great show! So I decided to write something for the Leyren ship (which I would usually never do) to fix this! Hope you enjoy :)

Summary: How the Dam Fam finds out about Lauren’s new roommate.

Helen:

“So, naturally, you offered her to live with you” said Helen sarcastically, incredulous at Lauren’s out of character decision.

“Well, yes, she has become my friend after all, and I couldn’t let her alone in the streets”, replied Lauren matter-of-factly.

“Hmm. And how’s it going?” Helen rose an eyebrow suspiciously.

“It’s...” Lauren let out a small sigh, “It’s effortless, really. I feel like she’s always been there��. The “which scares me” was left unsaid.

Helen patiently waited until Lauren disclosed more, knowing her friend usually needed more time to open up.

“Well, except for the massive tree in the middle of the living room. Which I don’t dislike, but...”

“What?!” This got Helen’s attention. Since when was Bloom known to decorate her apartments, let alone let another person do so... with living things?!

“Well, she bought a tree, said it reminded her of home. But apparently it was smaller in the picture, so now I have a full-blown tree in my living room. And I think I like it” that last part she muttered softly.

Helen let out a small, genuine smile, amused but also proud of her friend. “That looks like progress. You haven’t yet snapped her head off for touching your space, so I’d say that’s a point for Lauren’s intimate relationships”.

“Pfft. It’s not very intimate if I still don’t know about her. I have tried to learn what she likes, but she still won’t really tell me about herself. It’s a little frustrating really” Lauren let out an adorable pout.

“Well, give her time. She is living in a stranger’s house after all, in a new country and with probably no other connections or friendships here. I can’t imagine she trusts people easily” said Helen patiently.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mama Bear is at it again. Free advice for all!” Lauren laughed.

Helen snorted. “Well, it’s taken me nowhere with Mina. Still don’t know how this motherly figure thing works, sadly” she stated defeatedly.

“Oh, come on! You’re doing great! She’s slowly respecting her school timetable and your curfews more, right? And she hasn’t put a massive tree in your living room. That has to count for something” said Lauren, pointing her finger at Helen as she walked towards her ED. “You’ve got this!” and she gave Helen her best thumbs up and exaggerated smile.

Casey:

Lauren haphazardly threw her stuff into her backpack and went for the door, ready to call it a day and head back home.

“Lauren, you’re rushing out” Casey said suspiciously as he entered the locker room. “I assume this means you’re gonna continue smuggling your friend here? Cause if it does, you should know you are risking even more than before. If they catch you again...”

“No, Casey, it’s not like that” Lauren stated. “Don’t worry, she won’t be coming back here”.

“So that means... you let her go? Do you know where she is?” said Casey, now concerned about Leyla’s wellbeing.

“She’s actually... living with me?” said Lauren, the last part coming out in a rush and higher pitch.

“What?” asked Casey, wide-eyed. “Lauren, she- what?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t leave her on the streets, and I figured since I’m never home it couldn’t hurt to give her my spare room” justified Lauren to what seemed like Casey and herself.

“Okay, Lauren, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, you are risking a lot for this stranger. Please be careful” said Casey, though not unkindly. He was just worried about his friend.

“But that’s just it, Casey. She’s not a stranger, not anymore, and I would have done the same for any one of you. I protect my people” said Lauren, now sounding much more convinced.

“Well, if you’re happy with your decision, I can only congratulate you. You finally have a friend outside of work!” he added with a smile, teasing Lauren.

Lauren swatted his arm playfully. “I forgot, Mr Popular here knows most of New York. And I might have one friend, but it’s a hard one” she said, giving him the finger.

“Okay, okay!” Casey laughed, raising his arms defensively. “You win. But Lauren” he said softly “I am happy for you. Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing”.

“Thanks” said Lauren with a smile, squeezing his arm lightly as she left.

Lauren:

She did know what she was doing. Right. Right? It wasn’t like Leyla was a random stranger, not anymore, and she liked her enough that living together had been smooth sailing so far. So why did she find herself overthinking everything when it came to Leyla?

“Get your shit together, Lauren” she chanted to herself. She was driving home, her palms sweating slightly, but still excited to get there. She had been rushing out a lot lately. The memory of Leyla’s soft smile as she held her hand, fingers interlocking and fitting perfectly as they stared at the tree and Lauren’s want, need to be close, oh so close, a compass searching North. She couldn’t wait to get home to Leyla’s sarcasm, Leyla’s dinners, Leyla’s subtle presence in her apartment and life that made it theirs.

Without noticing, Lauren had been smiling like an idiot for at least half an hour, and she had arrived to her portal. She got out of the car and went for the stairs, taking twice at a time. But as she opened the door, a wave of disappointment washed over her. Leyla wasn’t home, had probably had to take a DriverTime client, and suddenly the apartment felt empty and cold again. Lauren couldn’t understand how she had lived like this for so long before.

But then a thought sprung to mind. Leyla had waited for her every day for the past week, staying up and meeting her with a fabulous home-cooked dinner after work. The least she could do was reciprocate, so Lauren got ready to prepare a mindblowing meal or die trying. Cooking had never been her strong suit, but she figured it couldn’t be too hard.

She remembered Leyla mentioning she deeply missed Pakistani cuisine, and how she had been disgusted by Lauren suggesting she try a Pakistani restaurant around the corner. “You Americans think you can serve a random dish and rebrand an entire culture. That place is not Pakistani”, she had stated. So Lauren had asked, and she had learned, how Nihari reminded her of late night dinners at home and Lassi was her all-time favourite beverage. And so she had a single thought in mind; today she was making the best Pakistani dinner for Leyla.

As she set out to spice the assortion of different meets, she re-entered her previous reverie. She knew Leyla would love this, even if Lauren was probably going to ruin the recipe and tarnish the Pakistani name. But Leyla would smile sweetly, as she did every time Lauren remembered a small detail about her and did her best to make her feel like home, and she would be grateful. Lauren could not wait until she came back, excited to see that look on her face that said “no one’s ever cared for me like this, and I’m glad you’re the first one”.

Slow-cooking the meat into a stew proved difficult, and mixing the yoghurt, water, spices and fruit for the Lassi had Lauren seriously questioning her cooking skills. But all in all, after about an hour she decided she had done a pretty good job. She set out to dress the table, going as far as opening a good red wine and placing a candle. She didn’t want to overdo it, but thought Leyla would decidedly not mind and find her efforts cute. Lauren was struck by the inclusion of “cute” into her vocabulary, could not remember when she had cared about someone’s reaction this much, and decided damn Leyla and her faint smiles had softened her. She couldn’t bring herself to care, though.

And just like clockwork, as soon as Lauren set the last plate with the fine-looking Nihari on the table, Leyla entered the apartment.

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouted jokingly in her beautiful accent.

“Hey! How was work? Any frat boys I should beat up?” said Lauren smiling.

“No frat boys, thankfully. Just an old lady telling me about her grandson. I must have seen like 30 photos of him, and let me tell you, no one can convince me babies are cute. They’re bald!” Leyla proclaimed, dignified.

Lauren snorted. “Of course you would befriend a grandma and have her show you her family. It must be your cranky charm” replied Lauren teasingly.

“You would be surprised. I cause sensation amongst octogenarians” said Leyla amusedly. As she caught the smell of cooked meat, she looked at Lauren, surprised. “You cooked? You? Is MY tree burnt down?” she joked.

“I’ll let you know, OUR tree is intact and very much still alive. And don’t you dare take away my custody, I love him like my own son too!” said Lauren in mock dignification. “I did cook, and I hope you like it” she continued, now softly. She met Leyla’s eye, hope and wonder sparkling bilaterally.

Leyla approached the table, repressing a squeel of excitement at the site of her favourite foods. “Lauren! You shouldn’t have! How did you even-?” and as she turned around to look at Lauren, the intensity in her eyes stunned her. The amount of care and adoration was palpable there, and it was enough to overwhelm her.

“Thank you”, she said in a small voice.

“I thought you deserved something special. You know, for cooking horrible meals every day” Leyla approached her slowly, still with eyes locked in an intense duel. “You would think as a doctor my main threat of illness would come from my patients, but you make a hard run for it” another step closer. “And besides, knowing my cooking skills it’s probably very bad. So we’re even” she continued rambling. Leyla finally took the final step towards Lauren, cupping her cheek and forcing her to shut up.

“You talk too much”, she said, resting on her tiptoes slightly to reach for her cheek and place a soft kiss there. “Thank you, truly”.

Lauren stood there, transfixed and unable to utter words. “Y-Yeah. It’s... nothing, really” she managed to muster.

Leyla tried to fight off a smile at Lauren’s awkwardness. During the course of her stay at Lauren’s- their- apatment, she had been quick to discover that she could turn Lauren, the hard-assed doctor and witty friend, into a rambling mess with well placed silences and touches. And naturally, she had immediately taken a liking to doing so as often as possible.

She turned around and sat at the table, staring down at her food and trying not to show her satisfaction at the amount of time it took Lauren to recompose herself and sit with her. She let Lauren pour some wine for herself, seeing as she didn’t look too enthused with the Lassi, and tried the Nihari. And, oh god, it certainly wasn’t like the one she enjoyed back home, but Lauren had undoubtedly achieved something here. Leyla couldn’t stop a moan from escaping her lips.

Lauren sat across from her, lips parted, staring at her like she was the only thing in the world. Her eyes slowly trailed to her lips, and Leyla thought she might burst if she didn’t break the moment soon. “Lauren, it’s- it’s perfect” said Leyla, and she meant it. It might not be like the one back home, but Lauren had managed to capture a new flavour, to redefine the very meaning home. She could get used to this.

Lauren looked back up at her, smile back in place. “Really? That’s new” she said, satisfied and proud of her achievement.

As they ate in silence, Lauren realised two things. One, she was definitely falling in love with Leyla Shinwari. And two, while Leyla had been her roommate for a few weeks already, it was only now that she felt like they were actually _living_ together... building a home.

Iggy:

“Hey, Iggs! I haven’t caught up with you in a while! How’s everything going?” asked Lauren as she entered Iggy’s office, taking the sofa and sprawling out on it.

Iggy stopped flicking through his charts, immediately knowing something was up. He could tell Lauren was properly glowing, but knew he would have to let this play out if he wanted to get any information out of his friend.

“Lauren! It’s great to see you. I’ve been great. I went to see a nutritionist, and I’ve been trying to join some virtual support groups for people with eating disorders. I still have a long road ahead of me, and I have to put in the work, but thanks for calling me out on my bullshit. Truly” he said sincerely.

Lauren perked up even more, rising to her feet and reaching around Iggy’s desk to hug him. “Iggy! That’s great! I’m so glad to hear it, and I’m so proud of you. And hey, you called me out on my bullshit when I was using, so it was only fair I did the same” she smiled.

Iggy returned her smile, glad to see that both of them were making amends and working to improve their lives.

He rose up to start walking to his next consult, not wanting this conversation to end but really needing to get there on time. After Lauren followed him along, curiosity finally got the best of him. “Okay, I have to ask... What’s gotten into you? You look like you just got to perform one of your supper cool surgeries or something. Anything new?” he asked.

“Well, I’m doing well” she said as they strolled down New Amsterdam’s corridors. Iggy waited patiently, letting Lauren open up at her own speed. “And... and I got a roommate!”

Iggy frowned, perplexed. He knew Lauren, knew how much she valued her space and how closed-off she could be, so he couldn’t fathom why getting a roommate would be something she’d want to do, let alone be the cause of her exuberant joy. “Wha... How?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a long story, really. She came in with a patient, and kind of guessed what was wrong with her, but it turned out it wasn’t a guess, cause she’s really a doctor, but obviously I didn’t know that” she started rambling, with Iggy finding it hard to follow along.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down” he said, though he was glad to see Lauren so excited about something.

“Yeah, sorry. Basically, she pulled off a successful needle decompression in my ED, which I now admit was pretty cool, I called security, she had no place to stay, used the hospital closet for a while... And now she’s living with me” finished Lauren, looking way too satisfied by her explanation.

“She... You... What?!” asked Iggy, dumbfounded.

“Yeah... She’s kind of a lot. In the good way” said Lauren, and it was clear to Iggy by now that she was positively smitten. At this new information, he changed tactics.

“Wow, Lauren, that’s a huge step! I’m happy for you, and so proud. I’d love to meet her sometime” he said.

“Yeah! That’d be great! I’m sure you’d love her, once you get past her cranky façade. You two would totally get along” replied Lauren excitedly.

Iggy knew how possessive Lauren was of her space, knew how much it meant for her to have friends meet even if she may not do it consciously. The fact that she was agreeing to let him meet her meant he was right; Lauren was smitten beyond recognition.

“Great! And what’s it like, living with this...” he trailed off, hoping to get a name out of Lauren for once.

“Leyla! It’s great. Yesterday I cooked her some Pakistani dinner, cause she missed it from back home, and then we watched a comedy and watered our big-ass tree. Don’t ask. It’s like she’s lived with me all along” she finished bashfully.

And Iggy had to assume Lauren knew how this sounded, how many lesbian stereotypes she was ticking off. So he replied, amusedly, “Tell me, Lauren, does this Leyla know you two are dating?” he said, a mischiveous twinkle in his eye.

Lauren stopped abruptly in the corridor, a horrified look on her face. Iggy repressed a laugh, was thrilled by Lauren’s new baby-gay side. He turned around to look at her, saw her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as she searched for a reply, but continued walking backwards. “Wait... do you?” he asked, now enjoying Lauren’s alarmed look. He turned around a corner, leaving a dumbfounded Lauren behind, and shouted, “Good luck!”

[writteninkat]

i - your grandma must have been strong

word count: 2,007

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

index

You zipped your last luggage closed, huffing tiredly as you stood up. You looked around you- your empty room, your plain, pink walls that were once decorated with many posters and pictures, your floor that was once covered by a big fluffy white rug and some clothes and stuffed toys.

You sigh, smiling. You were surely going to miss this place. Your back tingles as you turn around to see your mother leaning on the door frame, looking at you with sad eyes.

"Do you have to go?" Her voice is soft and calming- it always has been. She's the only person who could ever calm you down especially when your father left the two of you to work at the Heroes Association in Japan.

"I want to be able to protect people. Children, women, the elderly... I wanna be someone people can depend on. Someone you can depend on." You place a hand on her arm which she covers with her own, he warm palm along with her soft smile about to send you to tears.

She nods, walking inside your room to help with your baggage. "The movers just finished loading up your other stuff. All we need is your excess baggage." She pushes the luggage towards the door, you mirroring her actions.

She cups both of your cheeks, looking you at you with adoring, glassy eyes. It's your first time being separated from your mother in you sixteen years of existence. The two have always been attached to the hip, you traveled everywhere together, even as the two of you had constant arguments you could never stay mad at each other for too long.

She was the only one you had.

"Stay safe in Japan, okay? If your father gave you a hard time, call me. I'll pick you up no matter what time it is, no matter where you are. I love you." She kisses your forehead and you finally let your tears fall as you wrap your hands around her thing wrists.

"I love you so much mom." You sob, hanging your head as your mother wrapped her arms around you. You hear a voice of a woman through the speakers, telling you your flight was taking off in a few minutes.

You quickly give your mother a kiss on the cheek before letting one of your guards assist you with your bags. You waved good bye to your mom and soon after, your trusted body guard.

You were on your way to Japan, to a new life, a new school, new friends and hopefully to reach your new goal: to prove yourself worthy of becoming a hero without your father's help.

You walk towards the giant gates of UA, taking a deep breath before finally taking a step inside the campus. Your heart thumped on your chest nervously as your palms began to prespire. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to do anything with the teens around you as your only goal was to pass the entrance exam. You walked inside the building you were lead to, taking a seat at the very back in fear of attracting any unwanted attention.

"What's up UA candidates?! Thanks for tuning into me your school DJ! Just as your application said, today you will be conducting your exams in seven different locations! Your location has been assigned to you in the paper you were given." The loud blond man with long hair swept way to the back of his head announced, making you click your tongue. Not to be a mood buster, but isn't he being a little too loud?

You take the piece of paper he was talking about, eyes lower to read the letter that's written on it. Test Location: Battle Center C.

"Excuse me sir but I have a question." Your eyes fall to a purple-headed boy with glasses whose hand is raised. The blond teacher acknowledges him and he begins talking about how there are four villains in the paper you were given and not only three.

He then begins running his mouth about how a minor mistake such as this would be an embarrassment for a school such as UA. You scoff, muttering something about having a stick up his ass.

After the teacher ended his speech, you along with the other students began piling out of the room and to your designated battle centers. As you enter your specified location, you take out the black leather gloves from your pocket, wearing them. You clenched and unclenched your hands to make sure that it fit you well.

"Hey grandma." An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, unfortunately for you the rude nickname was directed towards you.

"Grandma?" You raise a brow, unsure what he meant by it.

"You white hair reminds me of my grandma's." He snickers, pointing at the white streaks of hair you have beside either sides of your face as a few other students chuckling behind him. He looks plain, very, very boring. "Why don't you give up on this exam, grandma? Your knees may start hurting."

The signal went off and the robots began moving behind you. As you kept a straight face, your hands begin glowing a blinding white light as a black with blue and silver accent claymore appears in your hands. You run to your left, applying your speed quirk as you ran towards the gigantic robots, swinging your sword vertically.

The slash creates the same blinding white light, the robots, the buildings and concrete ground that the light touches all disintegrating into nothing. You speed into the other robots, stealing the targets of other students as you accumulated your points. Once you finish and only a few robots are left, you return to your spot to where the plain-looking boy along with his little friends were still standing at, jaws hanging eyes blown wide.

"You grandma must have been very strong."

"I got in." You say into your phone and you hear your mother squeal in delight from the other end of the line. A smile breaks into your face and you feel your phone vibrate, signaling a new notification. As you pull your phone away to see what it is, your eyes widen in surprise as you read your notification banner.

'Mom' sent you $100.

"Mom what the heck is the money for?" You chuckle. "I'm not there with you but I want you to celebrate getting into UA. So go use the money and spoil yourself."

"Mom you don't have to-"

"Okay, mom mode off. I demand you go and award yourself eith the money I sent you." Your mom's tone switches from soft and caring to cold and demanding, making you chuckle. "That doesn't suit you at all." You laugh, you can practically /hear/ your mom pout at the other line.

"Okay, okay. I'll do as you say. Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you more my baby."

The call ends and you change out of your usual sweats and oversized tee. You put on a black spaghetti strap and high-wasted mom jeans. You hoop in a black belt and fold the ankles of your pants to show your white sock inside your checkered vans. You finish the look with medium-sized hoop earrings and a oversized red zip-up jacket which you leave unzipped with one shoulder hanging off.

You step out of your apartment, pocketing your keys and taking a deep breath in. Japan is just so beautiful, the scenery, the buildings, even the weather was perfect. You strut down your apartment building, scrolling through your phone as you searched for cafes nearby. It was a five minute walk of calm and relaxing vibes. You step into the cafe, eyes darting around the adorable cottage-core aesthetic it had going.

"Hey my name is Mio. What can I get for you this lovely afternoon?" The cashier beams brightly, your day becoming better and better with every move you make. "I'll have a strawberry shortcake as well as a strawberr frappe with extra foam, strawberry syrup and strawberries." You beam back at her and she takes your order with a bright smile, tapoing away on the computer's screen.

"Does your life depend on strawberries or something?" A rough and deep voice asks behind you, causing you to turn around. Once you do, your eyes widen at the sight of a young blond with vermilion eyes. He looked around your age.

"I like strawberries. Is it that big of a sin?" You ask, soft smile across your face as you cross your arms together. The guy had such piercing eyes, those red orbs looked like they could trap you in them forever.

"Not what I'm saying, but if you're that much of a strawberry fan, I recommend their strawberry pop tarts." His eyes drop to the display fridge beside you and your eyes follow his, landing on the adorable little tarts with red jam on top of them.

Just as you were about to order them, the cashier speaks up. "Your total is 1,500 yen." She smiles brightly, making you pout. You didn't want to cause more trouble for her seeing as your bill has already been printed by the machine.

You scan their QR code, paying virtually as she hands you your buzzer. "We'll give you a signal whrn your order is ready. You can find a seat and wait there thank you!"

You turn around at the blond who's looking at you expectantly, "I guess I'll have to try your recommendation some other time." You smile at him, walking off to the table catering two chairs. It was seated at the far back of the cafe, away from the many customers the cafe had.

You began scrolling through your social media, liking the posts of your past classmates and chuckling at some memes you saw.

A plate full of the same tarts with red jam is placed on your white table and you didn't have to look to see who it was. "Is this you way of flirting with me, rubies?" You ask, looking up at him with a teasing, smug smile. His face contorts into annoyance, "Hah? Flirting with you?" He scoffs, "Not a chance. And who're you calling rubies?"

"Your eyes remind me of rubies. They're pretty."

The blond's face relaxes and you push the seat across from you, silently telling him to sit down. He does as 'told', huffing as he watches you pick of a tart and bring it over to your lips. You bite on it, eyes widening as the flavor explodes in your mouth. It tastes sweet but not the sickeningly sweet kind, it's soft soft in the inside and lightly crunchy on the outside.

"You look like you just ate food made by gods." He chuckles, "You look dumb."

"But it really does taste so good!" You've never felt this much excitement since you found out you got into UA. And that speaks a lot given that you've only ever felt this kind of feeling with your mom.

"I should have bought the entire stock if I knew you liked it that much." Your heart skipped at his words. What is this feeling? You felt nervous all of a sudden, you can barely contain your smile and somehow, you didn't want to go home yet. This is a very new feeling for you. It's kind of... scary.

"I'm L/n."

Idiot. Stop it.

"L/n Y/n." You extend your hand towards him which he looks at for a few moments before taking. You shake both of your hands with a soft smile, your thoughts going haywire at how soft his palms feel.

"Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

You pull your hand away, finishing the last piece of strawberry pop tart on your plate before your buzzer turns on. You pick it up, standing up. "Thanks for the tarts. See you around, rubies."

"Call me that one more time and I'll blow your face up."

You snicker, smirking. "Whatever you say, rubies."

[harringrovetrashrat]

The Gobbler II: The Witching Hour

Harringrove Big Bang 2021 is here!!! A huge thanks to @harringrovebigbang for organizing this!  Also a huge thanks to my team, @monsdasarah and @catharrington, who did the art and moodboard, respectively.

But without further ado, here we go.  The Gobbler II.  Time to get cracky.

Steve wasn’t counting the days until the full moon. He wasn’t.

Fine, he was. He was thinking about Billy at pretty much every chance he got. Because, while the blow job had been fucking mind blowing, Billy was… Billy had insisted on them hanging out some, going over rules and such, as well as sharing emergency information should anything happen while Billy wasn’t in control. And Billy was funny. He was smart. He was an asshole.

Check, check, check. Each box for Steve’s Horny/Falling Deeply in Love list had been checked and Steve was struggling. He could deal with Billy being hot, a lot of people were hot, and Steve could get over that. Hell, he’d thought Robin was hot until she very kindly turned him down. But the problem was that Billy wasn’t just hot. Steve liked him. Liked him, liked him. Third grade schoolyard liked him. Because while Billy was snarky and rude and a total dick when he wanted to be, Steve could tell he had a good heart. He saw it in the care Billy took with him regarding everything with The Gobbler. Saw it when Billy mentioned his sister and his eyes softened, even if he called her a shitbird. Hell, Steve watched Billy step over an ant hill instead of on it and his knees went weak.

He was fucked and he knew it.

“I still don’t know,” Robin said, brow furrowed with worry. Steve was finishing up the garlands she needed, weaving together the hay and wheat so flowers could be intertwined safely without fear of them falling out. He sighed and set down the garland before stretching out his fingers.

“Robin--”

“I know, I know,” she said, cutting him off with a sigh as she paced back and forth in the living room while he worked. “But I don’t fucking trust him! And while I’m glad you won’t be traversing the woods--” She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. “You’re both staying inside, yeah? You’re not planning on going looking for it are you?” Steve rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t going to look for The Gobbler in the woods. We won’t even look at the woods.” Steve felt bad, just a bit, when Robin visibly calmed from the reaffirmation, though she did continue to pace. He knew she was just worried about him, but still. He did know what he was doing. Mostly. Enough. Steve stood and wiped off his hands before halting her movements by pulling her into a hug. “I know you’re worried,” he mumbled into her hair. He pulled back, giving her a smile. “But seriously. It’s gonna be okay. I know you don’t trust him, but do you trust me?” Robin scoffed, rolling her eyes a little with a small, fond smile. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“I was gonna say,” she replied with a smirk. “You don’t exactly have the best track record.” She let out a sigh, enough nervous energy finally leaving her body for her to plop onto the couch. “But I get it. I know you won’t let him do anything you don’t like, but I just… Something is… off.” She shook her head as Steve looked away, choosing to go back to finishing the garland instead of responding. Robin was right, and while Steve wasn’t a bad liar by any means, she knew him too well. Robin looked. She listened. She saw his nervous tics and heard the words he didn’t say. So instead, he said nothing and finished the garland as she checked through her notebook and made sure everything was accounted for.

By the time Steve finished, Robin was done packing up the rest of her things.

“Hope tonight goes well,” Steve said, giving her another quick, firm hug as they stood in the doorway. He pulled back, grinning wide. “Say hi to Heather for me,” he said sweetly, getting a shove from Robin as her face turned red.

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Shut up!” Still, she smiled, and gave Steve a softer, more playful shove. “Have a good night. Don’t stink up the house with your boy fumes.” Steve snorted and shook his head.

“Billy and I both smell great, thank you.” Robin rolled her eyes and headed out, hopping onto her bike and waving one last time as she rode off. Steve waved until he could no longer see her, sighing happily as he went back in the house. It was only a moment however before he kicked it into overdrive. Steve ran to the living room, shoving everything away. He wanted things to be clean and ready, anything breakable moved out of the way. He had no idea how the night was going to pan out, no idea if Billy would even go for him again. How did the curse even work? Would he need a different dick every month? Would their plan even work?

Steve decided that he didn’t care. That they would figure it out. That he would figure this out, no matter what. Billy acted cool and unbothered, but it was obvious that this curse made him… Unhappy wasn’t the right word, but neither was disgusted. Uncomfortable, maybe? Steve could work it out later; right now, he needed to focus on getting the house Gobbler proofed.

Steve was up and out of his seat in record time when he heard the doorbell ring. He had to stop himself in the entryway and take a few deep breaths. It was probably weird how excited he was. How much he wanted this. But, Steve had a crush, a big one, and he was known to have poor judgement when he was into someone. Steve ran his hand through his hair before finally opening the door.

“I was wondering if you were gonna stand there forever or let me in,” Billy joked as he stepped into the house and brushed Steve’s shoulder with his. Steve flushed as he remembered the stained glass window in the front door, where Billy probably saw him run up and stop. He swallowed his embarrassment and followed Billy to the living room. While he had been over a few times, they usually had met up at Billy’s place. Robin’s distrust of Billy made him nervous, put him on edge, so he didn’t like coming to Steve’s often. Which sucked. But today Billy was here. He was here and he was standing in Steve’s living room, looking around with a small smile. “You and Buckley decorate like fucking grandmas,” he said, turning to give Steve a teasing smile, tongue caught between his teeth. It made Steve’s heart stutter.

Yeah, he was royally fucked. This was probably the worst idea he’d ever had.

He was still gonna do it.

“You should do an open mic, really, with all those zingers,” Steve replied. Billy cackled and Steve smirked back. “C’mon. We can come back down here to order pizza and put on something, but I, uh,” he faltered, turning a little red. “I figure you can put your bag in my room?” His nerves made it sound like a question, but he wasn’t the only one feeling a little funny about it, since Billy also went red. He blushed down his neck and Steve wondered how far down it went. To his collarbone? His nips? Steve cleared his throat and gestured to the stairs, leading Billy up silently.

“It’s a nice house,” Billy said quietly, breaking through the tension. “Grandma accents aside.” Steve snorted and opened the door to his room, suddenly anxious for Billy to like it. He had plants on plants, pots on every shelf, every nook, every cranny. Herbs lined his window sill, along with a few succulents. Steve loved plants. Loved the energy they brought. His parents had hated how he had loved to be in the dirt, to feel the magic of earth and nurse it, keep it thriving and strong. They were white magic users, full of spectacle and grace. Steve, well, wasn’t.

The rest of his room was somewhat bland, lots of greens and blues, the wood of his bed frame and desk a nice light brown. Billy looked around, eyes a little wide, setting his bag on Steve’s made bed. His room was cluttered, but organized, and Billy seemed amused at all the little knick knacks Steve had.

“Wow,” Billy breathed. “I don’t know why but I expected more plaid.”

“I don’t know whether to take offense to that or not,” Steve replied with a grin. Billy shrugged, his smile easy going.

“Your choice.” Billy went to the window, looking out at the garden in the backyard. “I’m gonna assume you’re the one who did the garden too?” Steve joined him by the window, looking down.

“Kind of. I do a lot of the gardening, but Robin helps a lot. We like to have native species of plants, and I hate nettles, so she’s the one who deals with them.” It was nice, talking to Billy. He seemed genuinely curious to know Steve and he hadn’t had anyone this interested in him since school, when he still reaped the benefits that came from his last name.

“Native species?” Billy asked, turning to Steve.

“Oh, I could go on for hours, you don’t want--” Steve began, face flushing.

“Dude,” Billy said, huffing slightly as he turned to face Steve more. “I like hearing what you have to say, okay? You don’t gotta censor yourself for me.” And there it was. The soft nougaty bit of Billy Hargrove that made Steve feel soft and squishy and seen.

“Well, why don’t we order the pizza and then we can talk?” Steve asked. He wanted to get out of his room before he shoved Billy onto the bed here and now. Steve had an inkling that Billy felt the same, but he was incredibly nervous that he was just reading too much into the situation. So instead of facing his feelings like an adult, Steve turned and headed downstairs, hearing Billy’s heavier footsteps behind him. He grabbed the phone out of the cradle, punching in the phone number for the best pizza place in town. “What do you like on your pizza?”

“Pineapple and onion. I can do ham or no ham.” Billy said it casually, like he hadn’t just spouted out the most disgusting combo Steve had ever heard.

“Oh, dude, I dunno. That’s crossing a damn line--” Steve began, aghast at the idea of pineapple on pizza, much less paired with onion.

“It’s good!” Billy protested with a pout. “Listen, order a medium one and then whatever your dainty tastebuds want. You’re gonna try it and I know you’re gonna like it.” Steve gave him a blank look, unimpressed and unconvinced. Billy just crossed his arms and raised a brow, tilting his head. Steve sighed and when Benny picked up the phone, he ordered.

When the pizzas arrived (pineapple and onion for Billy, while Steve got the olives and green peppers), Billy sat Steve down on the couch, handed him a slice, and sat on the coffee table, staring intently. Steve eyed the pizza, then Billy, then the pizza again.

“Trust me,” Billy said. “It’s good.” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically before daintily going in for a bite. “That’s a fucking nibble, get some of all of it, asshole.” Steve shot Billy an exasperated look, but he did take a real bite. And… Fuck. That smug asshole was right. The acidity and tart sweetness of the pineapple paired well with the sweet onion and the acidity of the tomato sauce. It was savory and sweet, with some good crunch, and Steve couldn’t help his surprised groan, staring at the pizza in shock. Billy made a choked noise and Steve looked at him, eyes wide.

“It is good,” Steve replied, taking another bite. Billy’s face was flushed, but Steve didn’t pay much attention, snarfing up his slice quickly.

“Told you,” Billy said, grin wide and proud. “It’s good shit. I know my food, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said through his mouthful of pizza. “You win this one, Blue.” At that, Billy paused, giving Steve a confused but curious look.

“Blue?” Steve blushed and realized he’d never actually said that nickname out loud before. Not in real life, at least.

“Yeah, uh, like your uh, your eyes,” Steve stammered out. Billy looked at him, silent, looking torn about something. Finally, his face settled and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Should I call you Brown?” Billy asked, snatching up a slice for himself. Steve fake gagged.

“Oh god no, please don’t.”

“Sure thing, Brown Eyes.”

“Billy, I literally said--”

“You said not to call you Brown. This is different.” Steve groaned while Billy smirked around the string of cheese connecting his lips to the pizza. They continued to joke around while they ate, Billy flinging the olives off his slices, like they had personally offended him. Eventually though, it was starting to get dark. Steve could see the tension and stress building inside Billy as the night went forward, inching closer and closer to the peak of the moon.

“Do you know when it’ll happen?” Steve asked. The pizza boxes had been broken down and put into the compost bin, all the leftovers wrapped in foil and put away. The sun had set and the only light in the house was from the multiple lamps Steve had. Billy had been subdued for the last hour, getting lost in his head. Steve knew because he did the same thing. “Just, like, is it a set time or does it depend on the season?”

“9 PM,” Billy replied softly, his earlier mirth replaced with concern and anxiety. “You don’t have to do this. You really don’t.” They’d had this talk multiple times, but Steve could see the weight on Billy’s shoulders. He knew how it felt to feel like a burden, so he reached out and took Billy’s hand.

“Maybe we met in some weird ways, but you’re my friend.” Billy looked at him, eyes shining a bit. “I wanna help you with this, and if we have a way to keep you inside and distracted all night? Why wouldn’t we?”

“But--”

“You aren’t forcing me into anything, Billy. This is a choice I am making. Clear headed and sure.” Billy visibly relaxed, sagging a little. Steve kept hold of Billy’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You wanna go up to my room?” Billy went red at that, flushing down his neck again.

“Yeah.” They walked up in relative silence, tension creeping again, but this time it was different. Steve felt electricity on his skin, felt heat curl in his belly. Billy sat on the edge of Steve’s bed, already looking out of it. “You can strip and leave your clothes on the dresser if you want,” Steve suggested. Billy just nodded, standing up. He stripped slowly, turning his back to Steve like they weren’t about to have sex. Still, Steve let Billy have his privacy. He did catch a glimpse of Billy’s ass, toned and tight, and he licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and sticky.

“Thank you,” Billy whispered, and if it hadn’t been so quiet in the room, Steve wasn’t sure he would have heard him. Steve nodded, reaching behind him to find Billy’s hand and squeeze. There was a sharp intake of breath and a squeeze back. Looking back at the clock on his nightstand it said 8:59. Steve very suddenly was hit with the vivid memory of his torn jeans last time, and he scrambled to get out of his clothes.

“Shit!” Steve hissed. “God damn it!” He was nearly tripping out of his pants when he heard a low growl start from behind him. He paused, hairs standing on end in anticipation. He knew it was Billy but there was something so different about the timber of the noise. Steve turned to look behind him and Billy was standing there, head hung, hair gone limp, staring at Steve from under his brow. It sent a shiver through Steve, right to his dick. “Hey there,” he said, voice shaky. The Gobbler staggered forward, looking out of depth in these surroundings.

“Schm...eat…?” Steve let out a puff of breath, nervous laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Schmeat,” Steve replied with a nod. It was like flipping a switch. One moment, he was Billy, nervous and and ansty, the next, he was The Gobbler. It showed in the way he seemed to have a singular drive, a singular purpose. The way he heard Steve’s confirmation and everything else seemed to leave The Gobbler’s mind except getting Steve laid out. Strong arms hoisted him up and Steve let out a small squeak of air. “The bed! Put me on the bed!” He said, since The Gobbler was eyeing the window. He landed on the mattress with an oof, looking up as The Gobbler crawled on top of him. It was quick, a blink and he was above Steve.

“Schmeat. Hole.” Steve’s brows shot up.

“Hole? I thought you just sucked?” Did Billy-- The Gobbler wanna fuck him? Like, he definitely wasn’t against that, but he thought Billy had mentioned it was more an oral craving that anything else. The Gobbler growled again, moving down to nose at Steve’s balls. “Oh, shit,” Steve gasped. That was fast. He could feel drool dripping onto his groin and, while he was already getting hard, the process went a little quicker at the feeling.

“Hole,” The Gobbler repeated, more insistent this time.

“Okay?” Steve replied, because he really didn’t--

And then he was suddenly flipped over, face down, ass up, with his cheeks spread, saliva dripping down his crack.

“Oh,” Steve gasped. That’s what he meant. The warm spit cooled in the air of the room, sending a shudder up Steve’s spine. He grunted, arching his back a little. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed out. It ended in a choked off stutter when he felt a wet, hot tongue drag itself over his hole. He could feel the rumble as The Gobbler growled once again, this one less aggressive and more lustful. “That all big guy?” Steve teased, honestly a little desperate to feel more. “C’mon, go at--” Steve cried out when he felt lips against his hole, sucking the skin. “Ohmygodohmygod,” Steve chanted, suddenly painfully erect. He hadn’t been expecting that at all and holy shit did it feel good.

Steve’s reactions were paid no mind as The Gobbler pressed his face into Steve’s ass, a low moan rumbling from his chest. He was salivating, spit already dribbling down Steve’s taint to his balls. He sucked at Steve’s hole, leaving a hickey just to the right of it. Steve keened, dick already starting to leak. Apparently, they weren’t wasting any time today. The Gobbler slurped up his drool, lapping at Steve’s hole, which was already starting to look red and puffy. Steve gripped the sheets, holding on for the ride as The Gobbler’s tongue started making long broad strokes up his crack. Each lick was hot and wet and left Steve shaking. He could feel sweat beading at his temples and on his back. There was a grunt and Steve’s hips were shifted, ass tilted up more. The sting of the burn from the mustache grazing across his skin paired so perfectly with the soft velvet of the tongue soothing over it. Steve’s mind was already fogging over, eyes going a little hazy.

“Shit,” he murmured into his pillow, each stroke of the tongue pulling tiny gasps and moans from him. The sounds alone drove him wild and Steve wished he could grab his dick and stroke, but honestly he had no idea if he would be allowed. Wondered too if he could cum just from this. It was looking quite likely. Especially as The Gobbler started wiggling his tongue inside him, licking into his hole desperately. Steve was loosening up, but apparently it wasn’t enough, seeing as there was a whine from behind him and a nose pushing even harder into his crack. The wiggling was teasing and light, a steady pressure that was driving Steve a little mad. He pushed back, a whimper escaping his lips and fuck, there. He could feel the tongue wiggle in just a little farther as he pushed back, getting another moan from behind him. “Yeah, yeah, fuck,” Steve moaned, starting to steadily roll his hips back against The Gobbler’s face. The hands on his cheeks gripped a little tighter, maybe even enough to bruise. Steve selfishly hoped so.

The Gobbler began to fuck Steve with his tongue, each thrust opening Steve up more and more. He could feel spit dribbling down his crack, down his balls, dripping onto the sheets. His dick was hard, so fucking hard, and Steve tilted his head to look down. There were tiny globs and strings of pre coming from his cock, leaving a small growing stain on the sheets as well. Steve was definitely gonna have to do some laundry after this.

With harsh, heavy breaths, The Gobbler finally pulled back. Already Steve had a poor sense of time, and with his brain steadily melting into a pile of warm, blissed out goo, he had no idea how long The Gobbler had been eating his ass. Like it was his last meal and he was a starving man. Steve couldn’t help the desperate whine that escaped his throat, or the way his ass pushed back, seeking that hot tongue. He jerked when there was cool air blown onto his hole. The Gobbler switched between blowing on the cooling spit dripping down Steve’s taint and his now red and loose asshole. It made Steve shake, made his thighs tremble as sounds were pulled out from deep inside his chest ah, ah, ah. It had him gritting his teeth and clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. Teeth grazed along the meat of his ass, gently nipping at the skin and making Steve jerk forward with each light sting of teeth. The Gobbler started to suck, marking up Steve’s ass with his mouth like he didn’t know any other way to do it.

Not that Steve was complaining. Like, at all. His ass was probably gonna give him plenty of trouble tomorrow, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. Not when this felt so good. He gasped, sweat dripping down his face and onto the pillow below him as The Gobbler dove in again. Steve’s hands twisted in the sheets, moans practically leaking from his throat at the tongue wiggling it’s way into his asshole again. He was so loose, and just from his tongue. Even the thought made him shudder as more precome leaked from his dick, adding to the stain already spreading on the sheets. When The Gobbler pulled away for air, Steve could feel his asshole flutter, desperate for something to fill it again. He actually yelled when suddenly there was a finger pushing into him. It paused, hesitant, and Steve pushed back against it, hips moving as he fucked himself. A glob of spit slid down his crack and the finger pushed it inside him.

“Oh god,” Steve cried out, feeling his balls start to tighten. “Oh god, oh god, oh god--” And suddenly a hand clamped around the base of his dick, keeping him from cumming. Steve whined, loud and long, starting to turn over and push himself up.

“Mine!” The Gobbler snarled and pressed against his back, pushing him down into the mattress. Steve inhaled sharply as his finger shoved in farther, curling it up as he pulled it out.

“Fuck!” Steve screamed, unable to cum but feeling so fucking desperate. “B-Billy! Please!” He didn’t even really register that he’d called him Billy. Didn’t feel the desperation in the way the second finger pushed in, a little early. But Steve just made a low sound of pleasure, relishing in the burn of the stretch. It was the perfect amount to accentuate the pleasure without overpowering it.

The Gobbler panted into Steve’s ear and he could feel the drool dripping down onto the junction of his neck and shoulder. It shouldn’t have been so hot. Steve shuddered, feeling The Gobbler’s erection grazing against his ass cheek. He wanted it at least between his cheeks if it wasn’t gonna go inside. But The Gobbler didn’t even seem concerned with his own erection, just with touching Steve. He mouthed at Steve’s neck and between his shoulder blades, fingering Steve slowly. The tenderness of the kisses and the changed pace altered the feeling completely, and suddenly it was intimate. The pads of The Gobbler’s fingers massaged his prostate and Steve’s back arched. His hair was nearly wet with sweat, the whole room reeking of musk and sex. Goosebumps pebbled his skin as a shock went through him, the world focused to the sheets below him and Billy, The Gobbler, pressed up close behind him. The Gobbler took his fingers out slowly, pulling back. Steve whined, arm reaching out behind him. But instead, hands grabbed his hips and helped turn him over.

Hair splayed out around him, sheets mussed and wrinkled from being twisted and wrenched tight in his fists, Steve lay there, gazing up at The Gobbler. He hovered above him, hair draping down and shadowing his face. Still, his eyes shone bright, staring into Steve’s so intensely it made his dick leak. It was angry and red, throbbing as it bobbed, nothing giving him enough satisfaction to come. The Gobbler grinned, ducking down to suck one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth. Steve arched into it, hand gripping the back of his head. The Gobbler groaned, low and rumbling, hips rolling and his hard cock smeared pre along the vee of Steve’s hips. Steve was mush. Utter mush. His face was flushed and his eyes were glazed as The Gobbler went down, down, down and finally took Steve’s aching dick into his mouth. With one hard, wet suck, The Gobbler’s head bobbing only one time, Steve came with a shout that stuttered into silence. He came so hard his vision went white for a second. The Gobbler swallowed around him, drool mixed with jizz leaking from the corners of his mouth as he humped the sheets, fast and ruthless. Steve’s toes curled and his legs spasmed, knees tightening around The Gobbler’s ribs.

There was a loud slurp and a smack as The Gobbler pulled off Steve’s dick, letting it flop onto his groin, wet, shiny and softening. He swallowed audibly, letting out a moan as he came into the sheets, damp with sweat and drool. Steve watched him through half lidded eyes, watching as Billy blinked away the remains of The Gobbler. Steve smiled as his favorite pair of blue eyes turned to him, staring at him in awe. He wasn’t sure what other emotions he was seeing; he was too tired to discern much.

“You have got one hell of a tongue,” Steve slurred out. Billy continued to stare at him, eyes wide.

“You… You said my name,” he stammered out. Steve blinked at him, honestly drained and finding it hard to figure out just what Billy meant. And then, as sleep overtook him, it clicked. Fuck.

Steve woke up with a jolt and a sharp inhale. He blinked, looking out his window where the sky was still dark. He sat up, already starting to feel how sore his ass was. Billy must have gone ham on the biting and stubble rubbing, because he felt kinda raw. A good raw though, something that made him smile a bit at each tiny twing.

Then Steve remembered that he had actually shown his whole ass by moaning Billy’s name and a chill went down his spine. Billy wasn’t in the room, wasn’t on the bed, but Steve saw that his jeans were still on the floor, and it made him relax a bit. He got up, tossing on an old shirt and some sweats, before making his way downstairs quietly. The clock read 4:45, so Steve had definitely conked out deeply after he came. Billy wasn’t in the kitchen, but when Steve went into the living room, he saw Billy sitting by the window in the large armchair. He was resting his chin on his fist, just staring at the forest behind the house, lost in his thoughts. He had a glass of water on the table next to him, and didn’t look upset, so Steve took that as a good sign to start. He was quiet as he walked closer, pausing when Billy sighed heavily.

“I can hear you thinking from there, Steve,” Billy said quietly, without any heat.

“Sorry,” Steve replied on reflex. He sat down on the couch, watching as Billy continued to gaze out the window. “I--”

“Why did you say my name,” Billy asked, voice quiet and unsure. Steve looked down at his hands, pulling and tugging at each other as he wrung them together. He didn’t know quite what to say. It would have been weird to call out Gobbler, but he knew what Billy meant. In fact, was kinda shocked he even remembered.

“I… I mean, it won’t change my answer either way, and I don’t mean it as like-- Fuck,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “How do you remember that? I thought--”

“I get… Bits. Not everything. I’m able to remember small things and feelings and small clips, but mostly it’s hazy. I can’t piece it all together. But,” Billy took a breath, deep and bracing. “I didn’t imagine that part, did I?” His voice was calm and unannoyed, but Steve still felt his stomach wriggling around inside him.

“No. You didn’t. I… Billy, I’m selfish,” Steve began, words coming out on a shaky breath. But this needed to be said. And he needed to apologize. “The first time this happened I mean… I hadn’t gotten laid in ages and you were hot and so it worked out. But this… time I--”

“Steve--” Billy said, voice laced with hurt and curiosity.

“Please,” Steve got out, cutting Billy off. “Let me. Let me say it all and then we can. We can talk.” Steve sniffed, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. “This past month getting to know you has been so incredible. You’re a smart guy, just enough of an asshole, and you… You listen to me. And you care. The first thing you were concerned about last month was me, even though you’re under a spell forced to do a bunch of weird shit! Me! You were concerned about me!” Steve could feel Billy watching him, but eye contact would make his throat close up and maybe make him vomit, so he kept them at the table. “I know we don’t know each other super well -- I mean, it’s only been a month -- but I… You’re an interesting person and I fucking like you. I like you so much, Billy. All of you. Seriously.” Steve let out a long breath, closing his eyes to focus on getting the lump in his throat small enough that he could talk. “You need someone to help you and I… I’m too selfish to say no, even though I should because you--”

“Fucking christ, Steve,” Billy said, voice closer than it should be. Steve’s head snapped up and Billy was across the coffee table, leaning forward and bracing himself as he gazed at Steve. He didn’t look mad, didn’t look annoyed. Looked more fond than anything else and Steve felt his stomach do flips that were more along the neutral vein than flips that felt like he was about to start weeping. “You gotta let me get a word in.” Steve looked away again, apology ready to tumble from his lips, but Billy’s hand came and tilted his chin up, making him lose all ability to form thoughts, much less words. “Just to, yanno, condense all that, you said my name because you… you wanted it to be me?” Steve nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up. But when Billy smiled, relieved and excited and hopeful… It was so bright and overwhelming, Steve’s heart started fluttering, all of his insides squirming in joy and delight. “I’ve been so fucking worried. Because I really thought you were just… Humoring me. That this was you feeling like you maybe had to, or just to get some dick while you could--”

“I would never--” Steve began, horrified at the idea of using this against Billy.

“I know,” Billy replied gently, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone. “I know. It’s happened enough before I was worried I was being swayed into some false sense of security, but,” Billy let out a huffy laugh, smile going soft, “But this is just you. You’re just like this.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, unable to raise his voice above a whisper as he looked at Billy. Took in everything about him in the soft light of the moon. There was a shift in the air, something beautiful and new coming into fruition. Magic fluttered around them, Steve could feel it, bright and eager. It made the house feel warmer, feel fuller, and Steve’s breaths started coming in a little heavier. It took more energy to pull it in, but it was filling and exciting, making his skin tingle and thrum. His fingers itched to run over Billy’s skin. Which, come to think of it, he could do.

“Kind. Good. Silly.” Billy listed, pupils dilating as he moved around the coffee table, hand never leaving Steve’s face. Steve was grateful, unsure he could handle the feeling of loss if Billy had stopped touching him. As Billy sat, Steve’s hand came to settle at the small of Billy’s back, fire sparking in his gut and heart as their skin touched. Billy’s breath came in shaky, stuttering, and Steve leaned closer, their foreheads touching. “When you’re as hot as I am,” and some of the tensions eased at that, a snort escaping Steve before he could stop it, the magic shifting from something waiting for a spark to something more grounded. The feeling of hearth and home. “Yeah yeah,” Billy replied with a grin, “I know, I know. But really. People… Don’t see the person behind the abs.” It was silly, but Steve understood what he meant. Understood the struggle of people not just being blind to the person inside the body, but refusing to look beyond what they saw. “So thank you. For not being like everyone else.” Billy kissed him then and--

Steve was a witch, had been born into magic and felt it thrumming inside him. He’d been open to magic all his life, had felt the shift in magic during the change of the seasons, had done spells that had filled the room with power. Steve had seen amazing feats and more, but this kiss sent something through him. Something strong and vibrant and like nothing he’d ever felt. A crashing wave of signals and comments from the Earth and the magic within. He was overwhelmed with everything that coursed through him from the chaste kiss, hand pressing Billy closer as he tilted his head, mouth opening slowly. The kiss wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t hot and heavy. But it made Steve’s skin prickle with goosebumps, made his heart race and his lungs squeeze. He pressed closer, feeling Billy’s hand drop from his cheek to his shoulder, thumb brushing over his collar bone. It was a languid kiss, drawn out between a drag of the tongue, a light bite, the shared breaths between them.

When Billy finally pulled back, Steve knew his cheeks were flushed and he was panting just a little. It would have been embarrassing if Billy wasn’t also blushing, all the way down to his chest.

“I think,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath. “I think that we should go on a real date.” Billy’s laugh was bright in response, his head falling to rest at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder.

“Of course,” he breathed out. “Of course that’s what you’d say first.” Before Steve could even pretend to be offended, Billy kissed his neck, soft and sweet, his mustache dragging along Steve’s skin just a bit. “I’d love that. I’d love that a lot. But maybe we should get some sleep first, Brown Eyes.” Steve could feel the energy draining out of Billy now that the air had been cleared, and sleep started to tug at him as well. Even as he rolled his eyes at Billy’s simple nickname. However, he would have been lying had he said it didn’t thrill him and make his insides flutter.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Steve said in agreement. They moved together, hands still grabbing gently at each other, both of them unable to separate for long, if at all. It was like the truth had magnetized them and they just couldn’t fight the need to connect. They fell into the bed, smiling and warm and excited, ready for what this change would do for them.

As much as Steve wanted a languid morning filled with slow kisses and gentle touches in the lazy morning sun, Billy had places to be. Specifically, helping his sister Max.

“She’s moving in with her boyfriend, finally,” Billy replied when Steve asked, mouth full of egg and toast. It should have been gross, but Steve only found it endearing. “I won’t say I think it’s their best idea, but they’re at least keeping separate rooms. I know Max needs her own space.” Steve nodded, using the corner of his toast to burst the yolk of his fried egg.

“It’s good of you to help out,” Steve said, dipping his toast into the yolk as he cut through the egg with the edge of his fork.

“More like it’s required because I missed helping her move into her last place. Not like I was fucking sick or anything.” He set down his fork, plate already clean, before downing the coffee in the mug before him. “Sorry to eat and go, I would really rather stay here and--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Steve said with a chuckle. He was also eager to talk more about them, but promises made were promises kept. “We have plenty of time, yeah? I mean, you can always come back here later,” Steve purred, thrilling a bit when Billy’s cheeks flushed.

“Don’t tempt me or I won’t leave,” Billy said, standing and leaning down to cup Steve’s cheek, kissing him lightly.

“That a promise?” They were distracted by the door opening, separating slowly. Robin came in as Billy was leaving the kitchen, both of them awkwardly giving the other space while pretending they weren’t doing just that. “How’d it go?”

“We’ll see this winter,” Robin replied, snatching the last bit of his egg between her fingers and quickly shoving it into her mouth.

“Hey!”

“Snooze you lose, dingus,” she said with a grin. “Last night go...okay? Anything happen?” She searched his eyes for any hint of deception and, for once, Steve wasn’t really worried about what she’d find.

“Kind of?” Steve said, mouth tugging into a smile. Robin furrowed her brow. “Nothing bad, seriously, all good things.”

“Steve?” Billy asked, knocking on the door frame. Steve stood and went over, leaning in close. “I gotta head out, but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Sounds good, Blue,” Steve replied. Billy just smiled, eyes darting to Robin for a moment before he ducked in for a kiss.

“Catch ya later, Brown Eyes,” Billy replied as he headed out the door. Steve rolle dhis eyes, but really couldn’t help the smile on his face. Billy left with a wave and wink, disappearing into his car, and leaving Steve feeling smitten on the doorstep. He watched Billy’s car go, jumping when Robin’s voice came from right behind him.

“So that’s what happened, huh?” She asked, voice lightly amused. Steve blushed and shut the door, turning to give her a sheepish look.

“I did say it wasn’t bad.” When Robin didn’t reply with a quip, Steve paused, smile freezing on his face. “Rob?”

“I’m happy for you, Steve, really, I am,” she said, and Steve could hear the ‘but…’ coming from a mile away. “But I still think you need to be careful.”

“Robin, please--”

“It’s not about me trusting him this time.” Steve looked up at that, curious. “It’s because… Steve. I’ve only seen you this smitten with one other person in my life, and that was Nancy.” That. That made Steve freeze. He’d loved Nancy fiercely, too fiercely, and had been utterly smashed when she’d broken it off. Had been depressed for months. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh.” Steve wasn’t sure how to respond. Because he didn’t think he was that attached yet. Even if the idea of never talking to Billy again made it hard to breathe and made his lungs tighten and made his eyes water--

Oh fuck, Steve thought.

[blushnote]

rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe. 

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy.  “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

[mae-gi-writes]

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers. 

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3 

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island. 

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos​ @chaoticdeobi​ @moondustaeil​ @juyeonzz​ @atbzkingdom​ @2hyunjae​ @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz​ @heartyyjeno​ @bahnmi07 @sadlandia​ @itsquxxn​

-----------

Eight years, gone just like that. 

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past  my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface. 

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be? 

“Y/N.” 

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?” 

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him. 

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face. 

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?” 

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.” 

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!” 

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.” 

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind. 

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!” 

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

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is. 

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.” 

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--” 

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.” 

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!” 

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist. 

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat. 

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars. 

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.” 

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?” 

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?” 

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side. 

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole. 

“We’re similar to Canada that way.” 

“Do you miss it here?” 

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.” 

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.” 

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement. 

“Ouch! What? What is it?” 

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.” 

“But--” 

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought. 

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face. 

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.” 

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.” 

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.” 

“Told you so.” 

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is. 

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.” 

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused. 

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?” 

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...” 

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart. 

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.” 

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way. 

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.” 

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.” 

“No problem.” 

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters. 

“Hey Y/N.” 

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?” 

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.” 

“Huh, I tried.” 

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

“So, Kevin huh?” 

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister. 

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air. 

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.” 

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you." 

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?” 

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.” 

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.” 

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..” 

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?” 

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?” 

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.” 

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day. 

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring. 

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers. 

“There’s more?!” 

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.” 

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves. 

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests. 

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness. 

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him. 

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones. 

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention. 

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?" 

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?" 

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg. 

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me. 

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.” 

“Hm?” 

“Why’d you come?” 

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest. 

“Good question.” 

Another pause. 

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.” 

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything. 

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.” 

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.” 

“Oh.” 

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable. 

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour. 

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same. 

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another. 

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes. 

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach. 

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat. 

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe. 

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether. 

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected. 

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot. 

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes. 

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror. 

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice. 

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.” 

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.” 

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.” 

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.” 

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--” 

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore. 

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.” 

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!” 

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…” 

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.” 

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.” 

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest. 

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.” 

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.” 

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.” 

Happy. 

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. 

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.” 

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.” 

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.” 

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.” 

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.” 

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart. 

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans. 

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!” 

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place. 

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all. 

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?” 

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up. 

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.” 

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.” 

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall. 

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.” 

“How was catching up with family?” 

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--” 

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?” 

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?” 

“Dork.” 

“You’re friends with this dork.” 

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat. 

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.” 

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?” 

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.” 

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me. 

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?” 

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain. 

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do. 

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry. 

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.” 

He cocks his head, “sad?” 

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.” 

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought. 

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.” 

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.” 

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.” 

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response. 

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” 

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.” 

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?” 

“Yup,” he grins, “really.” 

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.” 

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.” 

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end. 

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.” 

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his. 

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal. 

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest. 

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion. 

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.” 

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip. 

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face. 

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?” 

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?” 

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways. 

“I--” 

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!” 

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!” 

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament. 

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet. 

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over. 

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air. 

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.” 

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.” 

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap. 

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank. 

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing. 

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break. 

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.” 

I nod mutely. 

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.” 

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. 

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.” 

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck. 

He tugs. I follow. 

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss. 

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his. 

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck. 

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does. 

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall. 

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me. 

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration. 

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out: 

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate. 

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding. 

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment. 

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath. 

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting  lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish. 

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?" 

“I’m really glad you came.” 

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much. 

“Me too.” 

----

[your-eternal-muse]

Home

Summery: After months of being held against your will, you escape into the world, and await for the moment when you can return home.

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, vague mentions of abuse, talk of injury, thoughts of giving up, mentions of weight loss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Authors Note: Wow. It’s been a hot fucking minute huh? Sorry for taking so long. I was moving and unpacking, and getting situated and than I got a new job and so many other things. This is the piece that got me back into the writing flow, so that's fun. I am still working on requests, and while they may not be posted in the order that I received them, they still will be posted. I will also be posting little one shots in between them as well, because my brain doesn’t know when to fucking stop. I missed you guys. I hope you’re all doing well. Also I’m at 950 followers??? That’s insane. I don’t believe it. Anyway, enjoy!

I run.

I run through gaps in between trees, stepping on sticks, ducking under branches.

Every muscle, every bone in my body is screaming at me to stop. To give up, fall to the ground and curl up at the base of a tree and give in to the darkness.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop running, not until I know I’m safe.

Not until I’m home.

The air is brisk, and the leaves crunching underneath my bare feet are different shades of decay.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy does little to tell me what time of day it is, or even what direction I’m going. 

So I just run.

Away from the little wooden house where I’ve been beaten almost everyday for who knows how long.

I’ve lost count of the days.

But I got lucky.

He’s always gone during the day, and I’ve lost enough weight so I could slip my wrists through the zip tie that had me bound.

I’m losing stamina, but I keep pushing forward.

Please, god, give me something, anything.

I stumble through a wall of brush, falling to the gravel ground of the side of the road.

A road.

I push myself up, my steps stuttering as I gain my back my balance.

I turn my head, looking both ways down the seemingly deserted road, and I now believe in a mighty being above because I see gas pumps not even a half a mile down the road from where I’m standing.

I start running as fast as I can, limping every other step, trying to pick up a speed my body has forgotten.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and every breath feels like it’s being ripped out of me, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

I turn into the gravel driveway of the station speeding towards the front door, barreling inside, heaving for air as I turn and lock the deadbolt on the door.

I flip the sign from open to closed for good measure, before slipping down to the floor in a heap.

“Oh sweet baby jesus above, darling what happened to you?” A woman runs out from behind the counter, crouching down next to me pushing dirty matted hair out of my face, hands running gently over my exposed skin.

My voice is hoarse, and my throat burns when I speak.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent y/n y/l/n of the Behavioral Analysis unit of the F.B.I.” I let my head fall back against the glass of the door. “I don’t, I don’t have my badge otherwise I would show you.”

Her eyes are deep green, and kind. Worry creases her already wrinkled face, and her skin looks soft and loose.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I believe you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tears start to form in my eyes and I can’t seem to move anymore. “I was abducted by someone we were chasing in May, and I just escaped.” 

A hand comes to cover her mouth. 

“I really need to use your phone to contact my team.” 

She couldn’t be older than 50, with long dirty blonde hair starting to gray at the roots.

I couldn’t help but feel the trust swarm my chest, too tired to put up walls anymore.

“Oh of course, honey. Let me help you behind the counter, and we’ll get you all set.”

She gingerly helped me back to my feet, wrapping my arm over her shoulders to help me sit on a stool behind the counter. 

She makes sure I’m set sturdy on the seat, before handing me a landline from beside the till.

“You use that to call however many people you want, and I’m gonna go get you some water and something to eat.”

She starts to walk away but she snaps her fingers and turns around, grabbing something from the counter and draping it over my shoulders.

It was a fuzzy winter jacket.

“It’s almost November, you’re probably freezing too.”

Her accent is a gentle southern, like a grandma who makes peach cobbler and gives the best hugs. 

I shove my arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to my chin. 

Almost November.

It’s October.

I’ve been gone for five months.

October, and I’m wearing shorts and a ripped tank top.

I look down at the landline and take a breath to steady my trembling hands before dialing the number I know by heart.

Three rings, and he picks up.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I start to sob at the sound of his voice, a voice I never thought I’d be able to hear again.

I start to collapse within on myself.

“Hello?”

I haven’t said anything.

I take a breath, wiping my nose on the back of my hand before speaking.

“Hey, Spence.”

It’s silent, and I can faintly hear the sound of something crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y/n?”

“Jesus, I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Is he there?” He’s frantic, his voice rushed and high.

“I don’t know where I am, but I’m safe. I’m at some gas station. A nice woman is helping me.”

I lick my lips and I can taste the saltiness of my snot. “I got out.” 

“Penelope, I need you to trace this call right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

He has it on speaker, and I openly sob at the twinkle of her voice.

“Penelope…” is all I can muster, but it’s enough to hear her gasp, and then her own sob.

“Hold on tight sweet girl! We’re coming!”

I hear typing, and background voices getting louder.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Derek?” I gasp, bringing a hand to the center of my chest and grasping the fabric tight in my hands.

I lean back against the wall as the woman comes up with bottles of water, and bags of different foods.

Tears stream down my face, and the woman pushes hair out of my face, pinning it back with clips from her own hair.

“Is that you stud muffin?” I hope he hears the small smile in my voice.

I hear a shaky breath. “Yeah it’s me sweetheart.”

“I got her! She's a few miles outside of Chattanooga Tennessee!”

Tennessee? How the hell did I get to Tennessee?

“Derek, go tell the others. We’ll meet you at the jet.”

I hear shuffling on the other end as I break the seal on the water, before taking a long, much needed gulp.

“Are you still there y/n?” His voice is laced with concern, and I can picture the crease above his brows, the shakiness of his hands. 

“I’m here.”

“You stay right there, okay? Don’t move. We're on our way.”

The woman hands me a box of tissues, and I take a few wiping my eyes, but my cheeks stay wet.

“God, I missed your voice.”

A moment of silence, and I know he’s trying to collect himself on the other end of the phone, trying to stay strong for me.

“I missed yours too. I called your phone every day just to listen to your voice. I probably left a thousand voicemails.”

The woman opens a bag of chips for me, before kneeling and pulling out a first aid kit from below the counter.

“I thought about you every day. About your voice. Your smile. I just wanted you to walk through the door and say some weird statistic and we’d fly off into the sunset.”

I can hear him choke back tears and all I want to do is hold him, like his pain is somehow my own.

“I tried. I tried so hard, but you had disappeared without a trace. But I never stopped. I would never stop looking for you.”

“I know, Spence. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

Muffled voices in the background and he sniffles. “I have to hang up, baby. We’re taking off. We’ll be there in a little under two hours okay?”

Two hours.

“Okay. Please hurry.” I close my eyes, picturing his smile in my mind. “I miss you.”

“We will. I love you. See you soon. Hang on.”

The line goes dead, and I bring the phone slowly back down from my ear, hanging up.

I take a chip and pop it in my mouth. 

The woman stands in front of me, and with a cotton pad with alcohol, starts to clean at the cuts on my face.

“What’s your name?” I ask, feeling bad, that in the 20 minutes I’ve been here already, I hadn’t even stopped to ask.

“Luanne, sweetpea. It seems like you got a lot of people that care about you.”

I nod my head, popping another chip into my mouth. “My team. They’re my family. We were on a case in Chicago in May when…”

Bile starts to form at the back of my throat, but I shove it back down with another swig of water. 

I lick my lips, trying to get rid of the sting of the salt in the cracks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“Sweetpea,” she holds my face in her hands, wiping away the tears that are still falling. “You have been through hell and back again. You deserve all the kindness in the world.” She pulls me into herself, and I nuzzle my face into the fabric of her shirt. 

It smells like lavender.

“You’re safe now. Any bastard that tries to come in is going to have to go through me first.”

I clutch onto her shirt, basking in the first kind human touch I’ve had in months. 

She smooths down my hair, soft and slow, and I listen to the heartbeat in her chest.

“You know, you remind me so much of my daughter. She looks soft on the outside, but she’s one hell of a fighter. I think you’d both get along rather swell.”

She stands, and just holds me, running her fingers through my hair, as I soak her shirt with my tears. 

I’m never going to forget her, forget this. 

I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to repay this woman's kindness anyway I can. 

Thank you, will never be thanks enough.

Flashing lights appear outside the window.

~~~

I’m tired. 

My eyes burn with every blink and there’s an insistent pounding matching the beating of my heart inside my skull.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

I’m freezing.

I tighten the blanket around me as medics move around me, getting things ready for when I’ll finally cave and agree to go to the hospital.

But I can’t leave.

I won’t leave. 

Not yet. 

The red and blue lights don’t help the migraine swimming behind my eyes, and everyone is talking too loud.

Why is everyone talking so loud?

My eyes look across the darkening parking lot, and Luanne is leaning against the hood of a cop car, her hands in her pockets, and she smiles at me, her hair blowing softly in the cold October wind.

But I hear fast paced tires on gravel, and my eyes move from her to the two black SUVS pulling into the lot.

I’m moving. 

Thoughts aren’t even processing in my brain, my neurons are stagnant. I’m moving on pure instinct. 

The car door opens before it’s even stopped, and the blanket falls from my shoulders in a heap on the floor of the ambulance.

Time is an illusion. 

It’s completely stopped as my feet meet the gravel, and I push the dirt behind me, moving towards the one person I thought about whenever I got the chance.

It’s just me and him, moving towards one another, two unstoppable forces about to test Newton's law.

My eyes start at his feet.

His pants fall over the top of his chuck taylors, and I’m positive two different socks sit below them. 

Higher.

Closer.

His hips.

He’s not wearing a belt. His holster is crooked. He was in a rush.

Higher.

Closer.

His chest. 

His vest is missing. His tie is loose, and the top couple of buttons are undone.

I can see his collar bones.

Higher.

Closer.

His neck, the bobbing adam's apple.

Higher.

Closer.

His lips, pursed.

His nose, red.

Highest.

Here.

His eyes. 

Deep hazel, honey surrounding darkened pupils, and I fly into his arms.

Ice melts.

My head clears.

I wrap my arms around his neck, shoving my face into his shoulder, inhaling like it is my first breath.

My feet aren’t on the ground anymore. 

He holds me, tightly against him, hands splayed across my back, his own face buried into my neck.

Our heart beats sync. For a moment, we're one. 

And then time seems to start again, and I pull back, eyes bleary, and I grab his face, crashing my lips to his in a desperate plea. 

He breaths into me, and I know, for certain, for the first time in months, that I am safe.

I am home.

We break, and our tears mix on cold cheeks, and I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, feeling the fabric of his jacket beneath my fingertips, the growth of his stomach beneath my own.

“I love you, I love you so much, oh my god.” His hands are all over me. My face, my neck, my arms. 

I never thought I’d get to touch him again, get to feel him, get to kiss him.

“You’re here. I love you. You’re here.” Is all I can manage as I bring his face to mine again.

I played out entire scenes where we did exactly this inside my head while that man did whatever he wanted to me.

I had all the things I wanted to say inside my head, but now that it’s real, now that it’s forged into reality, words fail. 

Nothing I can or want to say means anything at this moment. 

Nothing matters other than me and him.

A new hand is on my shoulder, and I lift my head to see Hotch. 

And so I am passed, from person to person, being held and squeezed and kissed and cried on until everyone has felt the breath leave my lungs, and I have felt the warmth of their skin. 

I return to Spencer, and he drapes his coat over my shoulders and zips it up to my chin, before the medics walk over.

They don’t say anything, and they don’t need to. 

I simply grab his hand and start moving towards the ambulance. 

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Hotch's voice is stern, and soft at the same time. 

I nod, and climb into the back, Spencer right behind me.

The medics get to work, and I feel my eyes droop, feeling his hand in mine.

He brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle. “It’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve fought long enough.”

I smile at him, watching the tears stream down his cheeks. 

I succumb to the darkness.

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[snippychicke]

Aftermath--One

Aftermath

So, here I am, starting yet another F**** project. Because I have no self control and I am in love with both the Swedes as well as positive encouragement. 

Aftermath is obviously a slight AU to end of Season 2. No major changes except...did no one tell the creators that just because someone fell unconscious when being strangled doesn’t mean their dead? 

Title: Aftermath

Rating: Teen

Triggers: obviously references to violence, blood, racism including one racial slur. I’m going to go light on that hopefully, however. Slight gore warning? 

Eventual OCxOtto

Herb did not, in fact, take away the dead body. 

It was still sitting in Raymond's living room after everyone else had disappeared in flashes of blue lights. Wrapped up in the rug his sister had gifted him and Allison on their wedding day. Silent. Foreboding. 

Raymond watched it as he sipped at his scotch. There was no way in hell he could move it by himself. And who could he trust to move it? 

To move him.

That wasn't an it, that was a ‘him’. That was a human body resting in his living room. Who, admittedly, tried to kill him and Allison. But still, he could at least acknowledge him as a fellow human. After all, Raymond had tried so hard to be the respectful and peaceful man his grandmother raised him to be. Even when faced with the violence because of the protests, being unfairly treated time after time, he never raised so much as a hand to another human being. 

But here he was: stuck with a dead white man in his living room. It didn't matter that the man and his brother had forced their way into their home (his home, now that Allison was gone) with intent to kill both of them. The white man was dead in his house, and he was alive and relatively unharmed. 

He would go to prison. He was going to be <i>hung</i> for this. Raymond tipped the rest of the scotch back and poured another full glass. All of his work, gone. 

It was probably a good thing Allison had...left to be with her family. It was comforting to know she was safe and alive. A small cold comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. 

His lips touched the cool glass when he heard it. A noise so soft he was sure he had imagined it. Still, it made him freeze, his body tense as he held his breath, eyes darting to the rug. 

No. The man was dead. It had been hours since the attack. There was no way. 

Raymond shook his head, deciding it was probably just the house settling, and shot back the drink, feeling the burn in his throat match the burn of his eyes. His whole life had just ended. It wouldn't be long and he would join…

His somber thoughts were cut off by another sound, this one unmistakable. Raymond jumped to his feet, throwing his glass out of reflex towards the body, which made a grunt when the glass bounced off the rug and shattered on the floor, she shards miking with the alcohol. 

Raymond grabbed a knife off the table, careless that it was nothing more than a butter knife as he held it out waveringly. 

Silence. No further sounds. No movement. Raymond stood frozen, eyes trained on the body, and mentally dared it to do something. Anything. 

If it did, he would...he would…

The rug moved and a groan cut through the heavy silence. There was no doubting the haggard breathing and muffled moan of pain. Raymond cursed every foul word his grandma would wash his mouth out for and ran back to the kitchen to grab an actual knife. The long thick butcher’s knife his wife had used so skillfully once upon a time. 

He pushed that sober realization away and stalked back to the living room, gripping the wooden handle tightly in his shaking hand. Raymond towered over the rug, knife poised to strike. He had to do something swift. Otherwise…

He was a dead man anyway. The thought silenced the instinct to strike, and the knife clattered harmlessly to the floor. He was going to die either way, but wouldn't it be better to die innocent than guilty? Not just for his soul, but for the movement. His brother and sisters?

He dropped to his knees and desperately undid the knots he and Allison had tied, allowing the rug to fall open. The man's face was no longer placid with death, but grimacing in pain, lips pursed as he sucked in haggard breaths. The blood was caked around the remains of his right eye, bruises coloring his neck, but otherwise, he was almost as pale as his white hair. 

"Hey, uh buddy," Raymond said as he placed a hand on his shoulder, earning a painful grunt and he quickly removed it. "Right. Sorry. Let's… let's get you a hospital." Except questions would be asked, and he would be arrested. 

But…

"Actually, I think I know someone." 

                                                         --+--

Lorelei groaned as she fell into the old couch, slipping off her shoes and rubbing the knots in her feet. The third shift in a row at Parkland Memorial Hospital left her sore and exhausted. This week had been nuts, between the street shooting and the asylum patients escaping.

Then there was the man found in the woods. She grimaced at the memory of being called down to the OR because they had been short-staffed. Dr. Wilson had done his best, but they all had their doubts.

Her eyes were starting to drift shut when there was a bang on the door, hard and frantic enough to rattle the windows. Her eyes shot back open and she jumped up out of instinct, her heart thundering in her chest as she stumbled around the coffee table to open the door. 

Raymond Chestnut stood on her aged porch, a pale man nearly twice his size in a bloodied suit draped partially over his shoulder.  

"What the hell?" she started. Usually, it was some neighborhood kids coming to her for help this late, or someone else in their community. A car engine broke the otherwise quiet night further down the street. Raymond shot her a look, panicked and trembling under the other man's weight, and she didn't need any further encouragement to slip underneath the man's other arm and help Raymond drag him into her home and ease him onto the old couch that was far too small for the man.

Her stomach curdled at the wounds she saw, though the bloody mess of an eye was probably the worst. "Shit. We need him in a hospital, Raymond."

"I know!" He hissed back, keeping his voice low despite the privacy. "But can you imagine me pulling in the ER with him like this? I'd be swarmed with police, Lei, and be lynched by dawn!" 

"What even happened?" She asked, undoing the silk tie to study the bruising around his neck. Obviously not an accident, but if Raymond got in a fight, why would he bring the man here?

Nevermind that Raymond was as pacifist as it got, and she couldn't see him doing ...this.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he stated with a dry tone, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

She shot him a look, "I worked in the ER on a full moon on Halloween this year. <i>Try me</i>."

Before he could even start, she disappeared into her kitchen, and he could hear the faucet running as she rummaged through drawers. Within a minute she was back with a basin of water and more than a few washcloths. "Well?" She snipped as she damped a washcloth and worked on the caked blood around his eye, making the man hiss and flinch, his other eye fluttering slightly. 

"Him and his brother came to my house, attacked me and my wife. Allison did that," he gestured to the eye covered by a washcloth, "before telling his brother to kill him. Which I certainly thought he did when he strangled him, but nope, here we are."

Lorelei paused and looked at him, trying to see a hint of a lie. Raymond was a poor liar, and Allison, while always a bit different and headstrong for sure, was still a lady. She had a hard time seeing the hairdresser stabbing someone. 

Granted, being attacked in her own home… 

"Come on. Let's get him back in your car. He needs a doctor, We can say we found him on my doorstep like this. Dr. Cahoy is working tonight, and..."

The man's hand shot up and gripped Lorelei's wrist tightly, making her freeze and Raymond jump. The man's other eye was open and staring hard at her. "No."

"No?" She repeated, falling into her working persona. "I can't treat the trauma to that eye. We need to take you to the hospital."

"No," he repeated, his hand tightening slightly, his fingers easily encompassing her wrist. 

Yet it wasn't quite strong enough to hurt. She ground her teeth at the stubbornness on his face, studying the dark grey-blue eye staring back at her. "Fine. But in return for my services you have to promise not to go after Ray and Allie, okay? Or any negro for that matter."

His eye glanced briefly at Raymond before fluttering close, and he let go of her. Lorelei stood, rubbing her wrist as she thought. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. White men could get the care they need at the drop of a hat. She saved her stores for others truly in trouble. 

Yet something in her gut was leading her towards an idea that there was something was not quite right. He only said one word, but there was a definite accent to it, and not one she was familiar with either. 

"Ray, start boiling some water.  There's a pack of gauze and gloves under the sink."

Raymond didn't ask any questions but nodded his head and followed her directions. Lorelei sighed as she touched the man's shoulder, making him crack open his good eye once more. "I'm serious here. I am not a doctor. I can do my best, but I doubt I can save your eye. You need a hospital."

"No," he repeated, though this time softer. Almost apologetic. 

She pushed the thought away. "Do you have any plans to hurt Ray or Allie?"

"...no." he closed his eye, becoming stoic but not before she saw a flash of something. Anguish? Regret? Or just pain? 

"I'm holding you to that. Now, give me a name I can call you. Don't need to be your real one," she continued as he looked at her strangely. "I just need a name you'll answer to."

"...Otto." That time she caught the accent but still didn't have an idea from where. 

"Well Otto, I'm Lorelei, but you can call me Lei. And this is probably going to hurt like a son of a bitch."

Part two

[coffeebeannate]

thoughts on the old guard characters? (a long one I know lol)

HO BOY.

I LOVE long asks when I have the braincells! *He says, as if he ever has braincells*

ANYWAY.

I’m going to go with just the movie for now, since I’ve only read the first volume of the comics yet and there’s definitely some changes.

This post is long, so I put all my brain rambles beneath the cut.

I also cheated and only did the Guard themselves for some brevity, if you want extensions with Copley, etc. I’ll do a part two :)

Andy/ Andromache the Scythian

ANDY. ANDY. ANDY ANDYYYYYYYYYYY.

I love her. I love her SO MUCH. I regret that I never really explore her as much as I want to. Because there is just SO MUCH THERE. There is so much to work with, to explore to understand and to see. I adore her. She’s jaded, but she’s also clearly somewhat passionate in her own way. Something has kept her going this long. She loves her family. She is at her most open and honest and vulnerable with her family! 

The world gets a facade, her calm, collective glance of ‘I don’t give a fuck but I actually do give a fuck but letting you know I give a fuck makes things complicated’. But when she’s with Nicky and Joe, (and Booker), she’s laughing, she’s enjoying their company. She looks so happy and instantly relaxes and I JUST!!

I love that she’s not some 19 year old (possible ageism). I love that they let a 45 year old actress play a character who is clearly over 30 and very much badass. The whole ‘only young women or very old women in movies’ trope is so old, so overdone. (And I’m still salty about this person who said it’s bullshit to see ‘grandma Charlize beating up men twice her size’, as if Liam Nesson doesn’t do just that in his seventies BUT ANYWAY).

Andy is SO multilayered. She’s clearly struggling, and she’s angry and cynical and OH so fucking tired, but she’s still VERY LOVING. She cares about Nile, she cares about her family, she CARES. She’s allowed to be upset! She’s allowed to be ugly emotionally (as they might say it in Hollywood, ffs), she’s allowed to be angry and happy and sweet and she has agency and vulnerability and I JUST LOVE THAT.\

She can also step on me I mean what.

ANYWAY.

Nile Freeman

NILE. NILE MADAM. 

Nile is just a MARVEL. She’s sweet. She’s caring. She has ALL the heart and takes NONE of the shit!! There’s so much to her. She’s devoted (I really love that she’s religious, and that the movie doesn’t take this away from her, regardless of things that happen). I love how utterly devoted she is. I love that she’s able to retain so much of her own personal autonomy, AND that she’s both scared and confused, but also SECURE. 

Nile doesn’t know WTF is happening. First kill in the Marines, very sudden death, you have a brand new family? Oh, you also can’t see your family again? Your mother and brother? Oh and this lady with the bizarre name has effectively kidnapped you so you can’t be shipped to a lab in Germany? THE FUCK.

Kiki does such a MAGNIFICENT job too! Like the amount of emotions she conveys!! All of Nile’s confusion, anger, upset. Hurt. How throughout all this, she’s shown as street smart! Clever! ADPATABLE.

Nile  becomes something ‘new’ but retains her original personality entirely. And I LOVE that. She is young, but she isn’t babied. She’s allowed to be guided without being considered infantile. She’s allowed to be here whole self and it’s SO GOOD.

Also, you wake up in a Humvee in the desert and your first instinct is to kick the back end out and roll away? And then stab your kidnapper?? AMAZING.

I love that she’s an art nerd. I love her enthusiasm, I love her heart. I love her cleverness. I love how she can be a bit “wtf’ but also flat out doesn’t take ANYONE’S bullshit EVER.

“We’re not going to Paris” HELL MA’AM GUESS WE ARE NOT. 

Sebastien Le Livre/ Booker

(Rucka once again I ask you, was that name only for the punning? Because I love puns to but cmon)

So..Booker.

I’m..I’m not neutral, but I tend to not think about him much beyond what is necessary. I think I’d feel that my thoughts on him are ‘complicated’ so I’ll keep his section short. I WILL say that his character is VERY well written. Booker cannot be called a flat character. And maybe I’m naive, but my first time watching the movie? Yeah, totally goddamned BLINDSIDED. And I give the movie a LOT of credit for that. 

Maybe smarter people saw it coming, but I sure didn’t. So hey, kudos.

I understand him. I understand his motivations. And for a person suffering from that kind of depression, the toxic sabotaging kind, yeah. It’s well done. His motives are..his motives. I’ll probably not ever know what it feels like to outlive your children. But lots of my family members did. I get how it destroys you.

However, Booker needs help. And it’s on Booker, IMO, to get that help, outside of his family. Because he hurt them. He hurt them badly. It’s not the kind of thing you just come back from.

Consider my attitude..curious.

Joe/Yusuf Al-Kaysani

I can’t make this too long I can’t make this too long I can’t-

JOE. Is a MARVELOUS MAN. He’s soft. He’s artistic. He’s strong and sweet and his entire face lights up like the actual honest to god sun that he IS. I love how much he loves. I love how compassionate he is. I love his passion. His soft voice. His kind caring attitude.

BUT AS A FLIP SIDE.

I love how badass he is. I go slightly feral from the bullet spitting ‘very pissed off’. DARLING, NO KIDDING. I love how he’s just got this kinda hidden swag element. He is so clearly the life source of every room he enters. Show stealer. He’s the one that makes people feel comfortable immediately. With charm and boastfulness. With just such great WARMTH. Joe feels like a fireplace. You just want to curl up with him.

He cares so much about the world. His husband. His family.

THE SPEECH??

Imagine someone LOOKING AT YOU THAT WAY. No wonder Nicky is downright wavering on us. I’D FAINT.

Joe seems to love the world around him so much. And yeah, okay, he holds out with  justified anger. (I SUPPORT THIS ANGER), but he’s also clearly affectionate. He’s open with his love. Joe literally wears his heart on his sleeve. You KNOW how Joe is feeling at all times. Because Joe can’t hide it. And if you have his love and friendship, you have it forever.

Joe could do audiobooks. Joe could paint museums full of paintings. 

And those curls? Best. Incredible.

Marwan made Joe into such an incredible character I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR SIR I LOVE HIM.

Nicky/ Nicolò di Genova

Ahhh Joe’s other half. Man of few words, but when those words come out they cut and say so DAMNED MUCH. And what isn’t said vocally is always said with a look, a smile. MICRO EXPRESSIONS THAT SPEAK THE WORLD.

Nicky seems like such an aware character. Nicky is the type that makes very conscious decisions every single day. Be kind. Daily. This is not the type of man who does anything lightly. I feel like Nicky is a calculated sort, but with EVERYTHING. Because he KNOWS that your presence in this world makes an impact. He knows how important being self-aware is. He feels so lucky and grateful to be with Joe and his family at all times.

I LOVE HIS SNIPING. I love his outfits! I love how intense and sweet and compassionate he is. I feel like he has some little shit energy. Doing something slightly devious? Probably. Having ideas just because? Damned right! I can only imagine how much dry teasing Joe has endured over the centuries. Because Nicky is just so raw and clever. You can never be entirely sure what he’s thinking, perhaps. Joe can read him like a book, but I think anyone else might be finding themselves looking a touch harder. Just in case.

I love Luca’s accent! I love how competent Nicky is! He loves Joe just as openly too, and I adore it??

“The love of my life was the people I’ve been taught to hate” THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE! AND THAT TINY SMILE! THE SMILE OF A THOUSAND WORDS.

Quynh

Boss. I want more immediately. I NEED MORE.

Lykon

RIP we barely knew ya.

Final Thoughts:

I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS SO MUCH.

I love that we got ALL THIS.

In TWO DAMNED HOURS.

I love the thoughts the actors put forth. I love how dedicated everyone was to this movie. I love how there’s so much from what could have gone so wrong.

I LOVE THEM!!

[sohin-ace]

Joseph - Accent

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

For this one shot, Y/N is not american (and preferably not british either) I'm sorry for my brits and 'mericans out there, but hey, you get to be another nationality of your choice for today yaayy! Please enjoy~

New York City. What a beautiful yet cruel city to live in. Because of your own country's situation, your parents decided to send you to the United States of America to settle in more safely, saying they'll join you later eventually whenever they can.

Even if you were worried for your family and scared to be alone, you understood and tried your best to blend in and start a new life in America.

Luckily for you, you managed to find a little job and an appartment by yourself. You were a pretty charming person by nature and managed to become a barista at a local café in the city.

One day, the coffee shop was pretty calm and empty, so you took it upon yourself to take a break and make yourself a little beverage. Around the same time, a good looking, tall man with turquoise eyes barged in with a cheeky grin on his face. You greeted him with a huge smile, contaminated by his own.

"Hi there! Give me the strongest, blackest caffeinated-est coffee you can!" He said leaning on the counter. What a weird fellow.

"Right away, sir!" you said with a little chuckle and got to work. He was fun right off the bat.

"What are you laughing at? Do I have a funny face or something?" he said still grinning.

"Your smile is catching like the plague. Also, you do have a funny face." you laughed cutely.

"Whaaa- Hey! It was nice until that last piece of comment!" he tried to sound offended, but he secretely thought you were pretty endearing.

"Haha I'm just teasing~ you're very handsome." you handed him his coffee.

"Heh! I know, I hear that a lot." he cockily said as he took a seat at the counter after paying. You didn't have many customers, so you stayed with him, continuing your rather pleasing conversation.

"Huh, humble I see." you responded while giving him some sugar cubes. "Also, I didn't catch your name big guy."

Joseph blushed a bit at the nickname but played it cool.

"I'm Joseph Joestar, but you can call me, Worldwide Handsome or Mr. Hot Bod!" he added almost with stars sparkling in his smug eyes.

"Ehh, I'll just call you Jojo then!" you said amused, leaning over the counter with your chin resting on your hands.

"Oh nooooo!!! She's a tease!!" he dramatically screamed and you bursted into a fit of laughter that he found profusely charming.

Sometime passed and Joseph finished his coffee. He wanted to stay longer with you, but the day was advancing, and soon customers would swarm the place. As you took his cup away you called him out.

"By the way Jojo..." he looked at you in anticipation, "Where are you from? Your accent is very very sweet~"

Joseph's heart skipped a beat at your tone. How could someone be this cute and sexy at the same time? And without even trying!

'It's your voice that's sweet!' He screamed in his head, but answered as naturally as he could.

"I'm from here, but I was raised by my grandmother who's british, so I guess I took her accent." he responded honestly.

Your eyes softened on him. "Aw that's cute! Tell your grandma she did an amazing job!"

Joseph smiled. Erina was indeed the best. He wanted to ask you where you got your own accent but speaking of his grandmother reminded him of something important.

"WOAAAHH I FORGOT GRANDMA ERINA'S TEA PARTY HOLY SHIIIT I HAVE TO GO NOW!" He yelled in panick as he stormed out of the café.

You just stared at his sprinting figure in a light daze. "What a wholesome guy, he made my day."

Some days later, he came in the coffee shop earlier than last time, but when he arrived you were just taking your purse and got ready to leave. You almost bumped into him at the door.

"Oh! Isn't that my favourite Jojo?" you said pleasantly surprised.

"And the only Jojo there is!" he responded smugly "Anyway, were are you going like that? Aren't you working?"

"Oh, I worked the first shift today, I just finished." you replied and he nodded in understanding.

"Also, I'm pretty sure there are a looot of other Jojos out there! Maybe there are more Jojos even in your own family line!" you smirked while walking out the café alongside him.

"What? How can you even tell that? You witch!" he put his hands in a cross gesture as if to exorcise you and you slapped his hands away playfully.

"Anyway where are we even going right now, I'm following you." you said changing the subject.

"Huh? I don't know, I'm following you." He said nonchalantly.

"Pffftt let's just go eat something, I'm starving." you proposed and he couldn't deny.

"As long as you're paying, I'm in!"

"Wha- you hungry bastard!" you laughed at his greediness and he giggled and stuck his tongue out like a school girl.

You both went to a small diner and ate while conversing like you knew each other for years. You enjoyed each other's company a lot and discovered you two had a similar sense of humor and loved to tease each other. At one point Joseph was really wondering where your accent came from.

The way some words rolled off your tongue, your tones, and even the way you messed up some expressions and slurs, everything felt so exotic and almost mezmerizing to him.

Everytime he wanted to ask, he just lost himself again in the discussion or drowned in your clear laughter. He took advantage of a little moment of silence to finally ask.

"By the way Y/N-chan," you looked up at him in wonder. "You have an accent yourself, where are you from?"

You blushed a bit, embarassed and not expecting him to ask. You felt a bit self conscious about your accent and wondered if it was that noticable.

"Aah I... Actually I'm from (country)." you sheepishly avoided eye contact.

Joseph was surprised. You came from this far away by yourself? Again, he lost his train of thoughts as he looked at your current state. He thought you looked super cute when embarassed. He subconsciously grinned at your flushing face and you saw it, mistaking it for mockery.

"A-am I speaking weird?" you nervously laughed as you scratched your cheek.

"No no no, not at all, it's just super cute! Please never stop speaking like that, I love it~" He looked at you with such a handsome expression and such fondness in his eyes, your heart fluttered in your chest.

"Aah.. Thank you Jojo! Hah I must be blushing so hard, my face feels all warm." you put your hands over your cheeks to cool yourself down.

"Hehehe, yeah I know, it's me who's doing this to you, I'm just that hot." he leaned back, gliding a hand through his hair acting smug as always.

"Eeewwww get out of here with that douchey attitude!" you playfully took a paper towel, scrunched it into a ball and threw it at his face and he let out the funniest 'Ow' you've ever heard.

You were dying of laughter and wiping some tears out of your eyes as he growled at you.

"Hey (country) woman! Keep this on and I'll squish you to death with my big strong manly arms." he threatened.

"Oooh nooooo!!! Not the squish of death!! Anything but the squish! Whatever shall I do?!" You sarcastically said while mimicking his infamous 'oohh nooo!'.

After you finished eating, you both stayed many more hours to talk about yourselves. He was actually very curious of your home country and how it was back there. The language, the culture, the people and how you acustomed yourself to the U.S.

He felt empathetic about you being all alone in a foreign country, away from your entire family and friends. But he promised himself to be there for you. He didn't really know why he was so enticed with you, but he later on realized that it was because he fell in love with you the first moment he heard your voice.

Never in his life would he have imagined he would fall in love with a beautiful (country) girl.

After that, he went to his best friend Smokey and asked him to help him find books to teach him the basics of (your language). Although, and as expected, Joseph gave up after a few lessons and decided to only learn the sentences he needed to steal your heart.

He called you and set up a rendez-vous to meet up with him. He arrived and searched for you, all giddy and excited. When he found you he ran towards you and grabbed your shoulders, making you face him. You jumped in fright and looked at him confused and surprised at how suddenly he appeared.

"Hey Y/N, I have something to tell you! It's very very important!" he stared into your (e/c) eyes with confidence.

"O-okay, what is it?"

"I love you." he said softly in your mother tongue.

You paused for a second, processing what he just said. You were beyond impressed and also pleasantly surprised. Did he just...

"What...?! Jojo!! Who taught you that?" You put a hand over your mouth and looked at him in awe, your face turning red by the second.

He didn't say anything as he waited for your response. For a second you didn't know if he was serious or not, but the sincere look on his ocean eyes told you the answer.

"I- I don't know what to say Jojo..." You were overwhelmed at the sudden confession and at the fact that he went all the way to learn to confess in your language. "You're amazing..." You added softly.

He released you and started backing away, taking your lack of clear answer as a rejection, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a soft, longing kiss.

Joseph melted into the embrace in relief and wrapped his large arms protectively around you, bringing you even closer to his body. As you pulled away, you both stared at each other lovingly until he started smirking. Before you could question him he said.

"Your next line will be 'Jojo, why are you smirking like that?"

"Jojo, why are you smirking like that?... Huh???" you gasped as he actually guessed your next line, word for word. What kind of sorcery was this?

"Hehehe, don't worry my beautiful Y/N-chan, I will answer that question for you!" He pulled away and you stared at him amused. And he was back to his usual goofy self.

"I'm smirking because now that you're my girlfriend I can get couple-only discounts for this Spa that I really wanted to try. My back is sore from being this handsome~" He said rubbing the base of his neck.

"What??? You sketchy asshole! You only wanted a girlfriend for discounts! Well you know what? I need a husband for my citizenship papers, so c'mere" you started dragging him away by the arm.

"Wh-what ?? Husband??!! OH MY GOOOOODDD!!!" He screamed dramatically in the distance.

What a pair.

[emeralds-are-love]

The Balance: A Ben 10-Kingdom Hearts Crossover

Prologue:

The world wasn't always like this. At least...that's what my grandpa tells me....

Long before I was even thought of, or any of us for that matter, people where born with special abilities. Super powers, so to speak. These abilities were split into two halves of one whole: the Light, symbolizing purity, innocence, the shining sun in the day, and the Dark, symbolizing mysteries, mischief, the glowing moon at night. They were literal Yin and Yang, coexisting peacefully, one never overtaking the other. People seemed to accept that for a long time. Until...he came along.

Xehanort Shadhart is a name that will live on in infamy. When he was younger, it was said that he and his brother, Sephiroth, had grandiose dreams of growing stronger with their Dark powers and eventually become the most powerful people in the world. And it turns out they weren't the only ones that felt that way.

Thousands of Dark users had felt the same way as the Shadhart brothers, and certain Light users didn't help the situation at all. They bragged that because people of the Light represented purity, they were better than those of the Dark. Some even went as far as to oppress Dark users, going against their "pure" nature by being cruel. This caused hatred and animosity to grow strong in the hearts of those of the Dark, fueling their power and making them stronger. The Balance that had formed in the beginning was starting to break.

Xehanort saw this and planned to take full advantage of it. He rallied all those of the Dark together and proposed that they overthrow the Light side and take control of the world. Needless to say, they liked his plan and it was quickly set into motion. And, unfortunately, the Light side never saw it coming.

Powerful Light users were either killed or taken away, never to be seen again. The ones who weren't so strong were registered and kept under constant surveillance. Once everything was said and done, Xehanort seized the opportunity and made himself leader of this new world, with his brother as the leader of his armies. Over the years, the Shadhart family grew more and more powerful and it seemed as if nothing could stop them. But what they didn't realize was that not everyone from the Light side were going to take this lying down.

My grandpa, Max Tennyson, is a very powerful Light user and a kind yet capable man. When he realized just what was going on, he began to gather Light users to form a resistance against the Dark regime. Since he was a powerful user, my grandpa had to do all of this carefully, staying hidden and holding secret meetings. But a life of hiding and fighting wasn't a life he wanted for either of his sons, my dad Carl and my Uncle Frank. So, he encouraged them to try and stay low in plain sight and not get involved with the Resistance. To lead safe lives. They both married and led normal lives...well normal as it can be under a tyrannical rule. That is until...they wanted to start a family.

And that is where I come in. My name is Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, but I would thank you to please just call me Ben. I was born to Carl and Sandra Tennyson along with my twin sister, Brendalyn Kirsten Tennyson, but call her Bree. When our mom found out she was pregnant, our parents were ecstatic. But when we were born, that excitement turned to fear. Why?

Well, after Xehanort came into power, he decreed that any child that showed strong Light power by the age of five would be taken straight to him. Once that happened, the children were never seen again. So many families were destroyed that way and it was another reason why so many ran to the Resistance. My parents, despite both my Grandpa Max and Grandma Verdona being very powerful, were low on the power scale and thought that they would have children who were the same as them. Oh God, they were so wrong.

A child of the Light is usually born with sparkling eyes and the brighter the eyes shine, the more powerful the baby would be. Unfortunately for my parents, my eyes shone brighter than the stars. Bree's eyes shone bright as well, as did my cousin Gwen's. My aunt and uncle immediately went into hiding with the Resistance, but my parents didn't, hoping, praying, that our power would fade. But it never did.

Having no where else to turn and knowing that Xehanort's forces would come to take us on our fifth birthday, a month before our fifth, my parents gave me and my sister to our grandparents in the Resistance and went on the run, hoping to lead them off our trail.

That was the last time we ever saw them. We're fourteen now and have been in the Resistance our whole lives, growing with the rest of the children and learning how to fight. My goal is to become stronger and one day, this war will end. And I will have my family again.

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

"Ben? Ben!"

I snapped out of my daydream and sighed, sitting up from my reclined position. My eyes raised up and blinked at the sight of my friends, Sora Strife-Leonhart and Julie Yamamoto, standing over my position on the floor of the Light Compound's auditorium.

Julie was a American-Japanese girl whom had come to the Compound with her family a year after my sister and I had. And I know this isn't pertinent information for everyone else, but I thought that she was really beautiful. She had long, silky black hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, and soft brown eyes. Her skin was pale and soft- looking and was accented by the clothes she wore; a pink, cherry blossom print kimono styled shirt with a white obi, black shorts, fishnet tights, and boots. She was staring down at me disapprovingly with her hands on her hips. Seeing this made me wonder what I did wrong this time.

Sora, however, was grinning at me with his usual megawatt grin, causing me to smile a little. You couldn't help but smile when you're around him. Also, at the risk of sounding somewhat attracted to my best friend, he was kinda cute. He had spiky, chestnut hair and sky blue eyes. His skin was sun-kissed, seeing as he like to be outside when he took his naps, and he wore his usual attire; a red and black short sleeved hoodie with a red V- tank top underneath, baggy, black pants with two belts that crossed in the front and in the back, a black choker around his neck, and red sneakers.

"We can always find you here, can't we?" He asked teasingly, offering his hand to help me up. I grinned and took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

"What can I say?" I said, straightening my own clothes- a white sleeveless zip-up vest with a ten on the right side and on the back, a green, skin-tight, turtleneck, sleeveless shirt that stopped just above my navel, black pants with a belt that hung off my left hip, and black combat boots- and grinning. "I'm predictable like that."

Sora laughed while Julie rolled her eyes but smiled just the same. They were used to my antics and I, theirs. I mean they've both known me since I was little, I like to think that they know me by now.

"Bree's looking for you," Julie stated, folding her arms across her chest. "She said if you make training start late again, she's taking the twenty laps around the gym out of your hyde."

I flinched. Twenty laps for being late? That means-

"Terra's training the four of us today?" I asked, looking at Sora for confirmation. The tired look that replaced his grin was all the answer I needed. I swore and dragged my right hand down my face.

Terra Rockford was five years older than me and Sora, so nineteen. He was a strong, muscular man with brown hair that went down to his shoulders, blue eyes, and a stern disposition. Despite that, he was a good guy, always taking care of the younger kids and teaching them how to fight. He was also one of the few who could wield a Keyblade.

A Keyblade is a special weapon shaped like a giant key- hence the name- that supposedly can open any lock, unlock doors to different worlds, and (depending on who's wielding it) can restore hearts from darkness. There used to be so many who could wield one, but the number of Keyblade users on the Light side had dwindled over the years. Terra, Sora, his brother Roxas, and their cousin Ventus can all wield one. Only Terra and Ventus were Masters but only became Masters recently. We used to have two others but...not anymore....

Shaking my head of that sad thought, I sighed and said, "Alright, Sora and I'll get going. What time is it?"

Without waiting for an answer, I glance at the black and green watch on my left wrist- and my eyes nearly bulge out of my skull. It was ten minutes to three, almost time for us to be there! And the training gym was on the other side of the compound!

"If you guys know where I hang, why did it take you so long to find me?! C'mon Sora!" I grabbed Sora's wrist- gently, I wanted him to hurry not be hurt- and pulled him from the Auditorium and together we booked it towards the gym.

The problem was that the Light Compound was huge. Basically, the Compound was an underground city: tunnels that stretched for miles, some leading to important parts of the Compound used by Light soldiers, scientists, and leaders, such as the training gym, the armory, the meeting hall, the top secret labs, and barracks for soldiers. There are many more but it would take forever to list them.

There were also "rooms" for civilians. Stores for clothes and food, a trading market, a woodshop, a blacksmith, a school for us kids, small restaurants, and homes for civilians. There was even little play areas for kids, a night bar for the adults, a museum, a library, and a small movie theater. The only thing that was above ground were the green houses, fruit trees, and gardens. People tended to them regularly.

The gym where Sora and I train and the Auditorium were on opposite sides of the Compound. It usually took a grand total of thirty minutes to get from the Auditorium to the gym, twenty if you're fast enough. Either way, Sora and I were gonna be late. Unless....

I looked over at Sora with a sly smirk as we ran. "How about we...speed things up a bit, hm?"

Sora grinned back at me, his eyes sparkling in excitement. "I like the way you think!"

We looked away from each other and began to focus on our energy, channeling it from our hearts, through our legs, and to our feet. Once it was all there, our eyes flashed and we shouted in unison, "Accelerate!"

We sped down the halls as our legs moved superhumanly fast. To the people we passed, we must have looked like nothing but blurs.

(TBC)

[jayceelynd]

Pizza||Jaycee and Ben

   Discord thread featuring: Jaycee and @johnstonivb

When: September 28, 2020 Where: Jaycee’s House Mentions: None Description: Jaycee talks to Ben in the group chat, and agree to meet up for pizza, ice cream, and Netflix. Jay text’s him her info and then he went to her hosue.  Trigger Warnings: NSFW NSFW annnnd NSFW Daddy Kink ;)

iMessage:

Jaycee: Hey, address see you soon

Ben: Cheers! I’ll see you soon. Want me to bring anything?

Jaycee: Just yourself unless you have a preference on Ben and Jerry’s

I got Netflix and Chilled cause I thought it sounded cute but it’s really good and I have Vanilla Toffee Bar Crunch

Ben: Netflix and Chilled? That does sound cute. I’m happy with those! I’m on my way now

Jaycee: I look forward to it

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

Jaycee: Jaycee hadn’t hung out with anyone lately since her breakup and decided to rush and take a quick shower. I mean let’s be honest she’s been in a funk and it shows! Taking care of everything she threw on a cropped top, with low riding sweats to match. Barefoot she ran downstairs just in time for the pizza to arrive. Opening the door she saw Ben walking up her steps as well. “Thank you, keep the change!” She smiled handing the guy a hundred dollar bill. “Hey, did you have any trouble finding me?” She smirked as they walked into her house. Jaycee was a billionaire and had a huge house, but was always down to earth. She couldn’t stand anyone being a snob over money, and had no problems calling them out on it. “So we can watch movies in the living room orrr we could go to the theater room.” Taking him in she smirked as she admired his features, tilting her head. It felt good to not be sitting at home alone, and to talk to a human instead of her dogs and cats.

Ben: When he got the address he wasn’t sure what to expect. He still hadn’t figured out the different areas and what they all meant. He was sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t a house this big, not in New York, all the places he’d seen in his very limited time in the country had only been apartments. But Ben grew up in a house like this, so he had a Synge sense of comfortableness even though he’d never been here. Walking up to the door he flashed a toothy grin at the woman, “think I’d have to be blind to miss this place mate.” He gave a light laugh and followed her inside, his eyes drifting down as he took in her outfit and smirked to himself, nice. He was glad he decided to keep it casual too with his all black look. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair before putting it back on. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “whichever you’re more comfortable with. But even if we don’t sit in it, do you mind if I have a look at the theatre room? I sort of miss mine if I’m being honest with you.”

Jaycee: Biting the tip of her tongue, as she smiled, watching him run his fingers through his hair. His accent only making her smile more, she knew her southern accent was pretty strong and probably sounded like an idiot at times. “We can just go in there, and enjoy some amazing pizza and the ice cream is in the little freezer anyways.” She tilted her head for him to follow her as she walked around the stairs into a dark room with a huge couch in the back and a step down one that you could lay on. Her soft faux fur extra soft blanket already on the lower area. “Make yourself at home, there’s a bar with candy and alcohol in the side room through that door. Or in the fridge I have beer, water, and sodas” she sat the pizza down and grabbed more pillows for them to lounge back against. “What would you like to drink? Oh and I smoke weed if that bothers you I can hold off.” Her small frame standing in front of him as she looked up at him waiting for an answer, a soft smile forming on her full lips.

Ben: He smiled and nodded, “what kind of pizza is it?” He asked curiously as he walked into the theatre, he let out an impressed whistle as he reached down and hesitated before he took his shoes off, not wanting to track anything into to the room and ruin the carpet and couch, but also unsure about how he felt exposing part of his leg like that. He shook away the doubt, he was trying to be more confident with himself and he slipped off the shoes. “Just a beer sounds great.” He looked down at the woman and smiled as she looked up at him. “I don’t mind you smoking, if you don’t mind me joining in?” He wasn’t sure how much was too much to ask for. He was already taking her food and drinks and watching Netflix in her home. But he figured he wouldn’t be here if she really minded. He moved towards the mini fridge and grabbed the beer as she finished setting up e area, feeling a little useless. “What do you want to drink?”

Jaycee: ”I got half veggie and half loaded supreme.. I wasn’t sure what you liked. But you’re in luck that I’m a great cook and have some pasta I made everything from scratch at dinner.. And I’m a rambler just.. tell me to stop..” She blushed a bit with her shoulders shrugging, bringing her already short cropped top up higher. A soft giggle bubbles from up from her toned stomach. Being cautious not to flash him just yet, she was dressed for comfort so of course there was no bra. Jaycee would never treat anyone different for anything like a prosthetic. “I am all for smoking with a friend, sharing is very caring when there’s weed involved.” She winked and giggled in answering him. Jaycee was a giver at heart, even if she barely knows someone. Looking around at the room she smiled, thankful she was able to have her dads house. “A beer sounds great, thank you.” She sat down and leaned against the back with the huge pillows. He was sweet to offer to get her a drink in her own house, hearing her grandma scolding her for not having it ready.

Ben: “Loaded supreme sounds good!” He exclaimed with a smile before his face morphed into a rather impressed look, “you can make pasta from scratch? Where have you been all my life?” He let out a deep chuckle before shaking his head, “you don’t have to apologize. It’s kind of cute.” He admitted with a small smirk before moving to grab the drinks. He walked over and sat next to her handing her one, as he sat he was very conscious to leave a gap between the two of them, although he wasn’t sure how long it would necessarily last. “So what do you feel like watching?”

Jaycee: Jaycee leaned her head back laughing. “I mean I am Italian so I think my Nona June would flip if I didn’t learn from her.” Winking she sat back up and opened the pizza box. Yes she was a southern bell that was Italian, it happens. Blushing at him saying it was kinda cute, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.” She smiled over at him and took the beer, and took a swig before placing it between her thighs. Grabbing a slice of pizza and placing it on a paper plate they gave them with the pizza. “I am into anything from horror to classic movies. What do you feel like watching?” She bumped her shoulder to his with a soft chuckle.

Ben: He smiled and nodded, “I guess that makes sense then.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, “I’m not a terrible cook. I can follow a recipe, but that’s about it.” The Australian offered with a small laugh. He nodded his head in a small your welcome gesture, “I’m the one who should be thanking you mate.” He took a sip of his own beer and placed the drink next to him before grabbing a piece of pizza. “Horror sounds good to me.” Nodded his head along and bumped her shoulder back with his, “sure you won’t get too scared?” He teased.

Jaycee: ”Hey, that’s still something. If you can follow a recipe you’re doing better than most guys..” she chuckled softly, scrunching her nose to show she was teasing him. Grabbing the remote she started the programs up. “Do you like Annabel?” She asked him as she pulled her full bottom lip between her teeth. “And if I do?” She blushed but in a playful bratty tone. “I have been known to smack a time or two when scared..” she grabbed a slice and took a bite. Once she swallowed she took a sip, running her tongue up under her top lips over her teeth.

Ben: Ben smiled and tilted his head slightly, “yeah I guess you're right.” He offered with a smiled before straightening his head, and grabbing a piece of pizza, “Annabelle sounds good.” He raised an eye brow as she spoke and carefully watched the tongue that ran along her teeth. A smirk formed on his face as he puffed his chest out slightly, flexing his arms a little until the material of his sweater tightened around his arms. “If you do, I’ll protect you princess.” He teased before relaxing his posture and taking a bite of the pizza. “Mmm pizza.”

Jaycee: Clicking play when he said it was good and couldn’t help but enjoy the view of his muscles flexing, looking like the material would tear. Enjoying the nickname she flipped her long hair off of her shoulder, causing her cropped top to raise. Possibly showing some under boob. Laughing softly as she took another bite, using a napkin to cover her mouth as she chewed. “Can never go wrong with New York pizza..” her groan sounding a bit sexual, as she took another bite. “I hated when my Nan would get me porcelain dolls, I’d always put them in my closet..” she admitted as she twirled the string to her low riding sweats.

Ben: Ben tried his best not to stare at the glimpse of under boob she showed. He was in her house, eating her pizza, watching a movie and going to smoke with her. He didn’t want to seem like a creep on top of it and over step his welcome. But the way she laughed and moaned was definite making that difficult. He laughed at her comment and ran a hand through his hair, “yeah nah i probably would’ve done the same.”

Jaycee: After finishing her slice she rolled them a blunt. This weed always made her feel needy, and probably wasn’t a good idea. But she didn’t care, he was fun to hang out with and easy to talk to. Running her tongue slowly over the blunt paper before sealing it. Scooting closer to him, her chest pressed against his shoulder. “You are around to love this strain, it feels like you’re floating and all that..” Jaycee was a flirt and even more so a brat. She enjoyed getting anyone she liked riled up and needy for her. Placing the blunt between her lips, she lit it pulling from it taking a long pull holding the smoke in and handing him the blunt. Tilting her head back, elongating her neck she blew out a huge cloud slowly from her lips. Eyes closed as she enjoyed the taste of weed in her blueberry flavored blunt paper humming. “What do you think?” She asked letting her head slowly turn back to his, a smirk forming on her lips.

Ben: A slow smirk spread across his face as he watched her get the blunt ready and realized she was teasing him on purpose. Two could play at that game. Ben could never turn down a challenge, especially when the challenge looked this good. He took the blunt and hummed around it as he realized it was blueberry flavored, that was a nice touch. Holding it for just a moment he turned fo her and maintained eye contact as he exhaled, with a deep moan. His eyes flicked up and down her body before landing back on the blunt in his hand as he handed it over. His voice was a little gravelly as he spoke, “delicious.”

Jaycee: Okay, he caught on to her little teasing fun and definitely was making even more fun. Her hand resting on his broad shoulder that was pressed between her tiny yet perky tits. “Yeah? You like that?” She asked as her eyes were locked on his lips while watching him scan her bod. Leaving the blunt in his hand she placed her free hand on his and took a hit while her held it. Her nipples are visibly hard at this point and wishing she was wearing panties because now her sweats were about to dampen. Her thighs rested against his, completely relaxed near him.

Ben: He felt himself leaning into her touch, eyes dropping and landing on her full lips. He felt his mouth go dry as she took a drag from his hand and felt his erection pressing against his pants. He thanked whatever power convinced him to wear sweat pants instead of jeans. He put down the pizza he had been holding and moved his free arm to rest behind her, bringing their faces much closer. “Yes, I like that.” He brought the blunt up to his mouth and took another drag eyes dropping once again to scan her body. “A lot.”

Jaycee: Her hand resting the center of his chest as she was brought closer to him, the air catching in her throat. Her nose rubbing against his, feeling his breath against her lips. Her tiny fingers moved from his chest to trace his jawline, lips parted as she squeezed her thighs together. “Me too.” She whispered her breathe touch his lips. Her nipples hardening more as his eyes roamed her body again. Licking her lips, causing the tip of her tongue barely touch his lips. A soft hum filling the space between them. Finger tips gently ran from his jawline, over the pulse of his neck. Letting her eyes follow her hand as she let her hand slide between his pecks and working their way down to his chiseled abs. Fuck he was solid and if he didn’t make a move it was going to kill her. “You want to kiss me?”

Ben: The hand behind her back dropped lower until he was grabbing the ass that had been exposed by her movement. He swallowed as he watched her lick her lips and felt the edge of her tongue on his mouth. As her fingers traced his jaw he took the chance to look her over again, this time much slower and deliberately as he thought of all the things he could do. Eyes flicking back up to maintain eye contact as she questioned him he tilted his head and leaned impossibly closer before moving to the side last second and whispering in her ear, “only if you ask me nicely.”

Jaycee: When he grabbed her ass, it took everything in her not to moan. Jaycees sweats were definitely soaked with need. Her hand running over his abs as she was sure to be tasting his lips but then, the next thing she noticed. His lips were near her ear, softly groaning at his words. Making a fist in his sweater gently tugging. Her lips brushing over his ear as she softly whispers breathlessly. “Pretty pretty please..” Grazing her teeth over his ear lobe. “Kiss me.”

Ben: Hearing her groan and then beg for him only made his erection grow and he felt his boxers tighten. Finally hearing her ask him to kiss her was enough to send him over the edge. One hand moved up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he surged forward and kissed her lips. Melting into it he let out a deep moan as the hand that was still on her ass squeezed and pulled her closer, pulling her onto his lap.

Jaycee: Her moans mixing with his as she kissed him back, straddling him when he pulled her into his lap. Feeling his erection against her wet warmth, material of clothing being a barrier. Her full lips massaging his, letting her tongue trace his lips wanting a taste. Her hands sliding from his pecks, up into his hair. His hat falling onto the couch behind them, pressing her center against his. Rocking her hips lightly against his every once in awhile.

Ben: He could feel that the material of her pants was wet and it was driving him crazy. He felt himself grind is hips forward as she rocked on him needing more. He but at her full bottom lip and moved to trail kisses along her jaw, and nibbled on her ear before trailing kisses down her neck and sucking on her pressure point.

Jaycee: Whimpering as he bit her bottom lip, lolling her head back and to the side as he ravished her neck. Needing to feel more, she greedily pressed her her center into him. Her breathing was shaky as her hands tightened in his hair. Trembling with anticipation of what his next move was. He was sucking and nibbling in all the right places, her hips jerking as she rolled them against his own. She swore she could feel him throbbing with need, knowing he was going to stretch her deliciously.

Ben: His hands started on her waist and trailed up her exposed stomach, moving to cup and squeeze her breasts. Moaning slightly as he felt the smooth skin under his hands. His breathing was becoming heavier, he wanted her right her and now. He started tugging at her top, pulling it up as he grinded against her. "You are so fucking gorgeous." His voice wasn't much more than a whisper as his eyes raked over her in awe.

Jaycee: His hands were leaving goosebumps in their travel. “Fuck..” she hissed as he massaged her breasts. Running her tiny hands over his that were on her breast, she continued to grind against him. Moans with heavy slow panting was escaping her lip, while her hands slide up into her long hair. Watching him look at her as if she was really gorgeous. The need to see his chest, knowing he was ripped from what she could feel over his sweater. “Please let me see you..” she groaned, her hands moving to his sweater tugging it up.

Ben: His panting and heavy breathing was working in tandem with hers, and he groaned slightly as he pulled back. Not enough to fully disconnect but enough to pull his sweater off, revealing his chiseled chest as he surged forward again to kiss her, this time he pushed on her body, taking advantage of the massive couch as he pushed her to be laying down propping himself up with one arm to avoid crushing her.

Jaycee: Jaycee’s hands roamed his chiseled chest and abs, admiring every definition of his body. Her hands cupping his face as she giggled while he laid her onto her back. Spreading her legs so he’s fit where they both wanted him. Her eyes were dark with need and desire, and he was so fucking sexy. Jaycee had recently taken hormones to harvest eggs for when she was ready to have kids, due to her fertility problems. “Do you have a condom..?” She whispered against his lips before kissing down his jawline, her teeth nipping and scraping over his stubble. Her hands running down his back, slowly making their way to his lower back. Both of her hands slid into his sweats and boxers before squeezing tightly. Being impatient and greedy, raising her center up to grind against his hard cock.

Ben: God she made it hard to pull away, he pressed into her as he grounded into him and nodded dumbly, one thing about Ben was that he was always prepared. Not that he expected tonight to lead here but he always kept a condom in his wallet just in case of emergencies, even if that emergency is lending it to someone else. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wallet and protection, groaning at the feelings. He swiftly took his pants off, bringing the boxers with them so he was before her naked. Usually right about now he’d be rather self conscious but he was so caught up in everything that he didn’t mind as he started to put the condom on, his hand stopped as he went to roll it down his length and he looked up smirking at the woman. His eyes dark with desire were almost black as he grabbed her hand and placed it on the condom, hoping the look he gave her would be enough for her to get the hint. At the same time one of his hands moved to pull down her pants. He was done waiting now.

Jaycee: Jaycee took him in completely, every inch of him was beyond beautiful. Not once did she react to his leg, that’s not what makes a person. He was sexy just the way he was. “You’re so fucking sexy..” she moaned as she watched him roll the condom over his erection. Pulling the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked up at him with needy yet innocent eyes. Her hips raising as he slid her pants off, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any panties and how soaked she was for him. Squeezing his cock as she began to slowly stroke his length, spreading her legs for him. Letting him see her glistening heat, fuck she thought as her walls clenched around nothing, needing to feel his touch anywhere on her body at this point. “Ben..” she moaned, looking up at him still with begging eyes. Her body was trembling with need, and desire.

Ben: The look in her eyes was driving Ben mental, and when he saw she wasn't wearing any panties he grinned at the sight of her. She was so wet already, it only boosted his ego and made him want her even more. His eyes rolled back as she stroked his cock, "god" and then hearing her beg his name was enough to tip him over the edge. As soon as the condom was properly on he lined himself up with her core and started pumping into her. Not bothering to ease into it as he let his desire take over.

Jaycee: The way he was reacting to her was driving her crazy. Gasping at how he began thrusting into her, her nails scraping down his back. Raising her hip, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Fuck.. Ben..” she moaned, purposely tightening her walls around him only to groan from the pleasure. Making a fist in his hair to pull his head back as she kissed him with aggressive need. “So fucking deep..” she hissed out in a whimpering tone.

Ben: He loved the feeling of her nails scraping over his back and the way she raised her hips for him to meet. “That’s it baby” he coaxed her as he kept pumping, “fuck you feel so good.” He groaned at how tight and wet she was. The fact he caused this almost as good as the actual feeling. He kissed her just as aggressive before his tongue ran over her bottom lip, begging for entrance, needing more of her.

Jaycee: Fuck she loved hearing him praise her, as she would keep him deep every time he’d sink into her. Her nails making their way to his ass, loving when he was so damn deep. Her lips parting to grant him access, moans flowing from her mouth to his. His chest rubbing over her harden nipples. Spreading her legs wider wanting all of him inside of her she groaned out in a sharp gasp. “Fu-fuck..” she cried out as licked up the roof of his mouth.

Ben: She was so gorgeous and felt so fucking good he felt himself speeding up. Her moans and sounds were intoxicating and he wanted to make her scream. “Jaycee.” He grunted between thrusts, “oh fuck.” He kept going and kept attacking her with kisses on her mouth and jawline, occasionally moving to her neck. When she spread her legs wider he grabbed one of them and pulled it up in a swift motion, bringing her impossibly closer. His breathing was hard and labored.

Jaycee: A high pitch whimpering sound came from her tiny frame as he brought her closer still. Her name being moaned as he thrusted fasted, feeling his sack slap against her ass. “Ben.. oh god..” she cried out as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders lazily, her body trembling with pleasure. Her walls quaking around his thick length that was pounding into her tight heat. Jaycee was holding onto him tightly as she fought the need to orgasm. She was a bratty sub and did as she was told. “Oh, fuck. Please don’t stop, please..” a messy whispering kiss as her breathing was so shaky.

Ben: “Louder.” He commanded as he kept thrusting into her, letting his controlling dominative side show. He grabbed both her legs and lifted them up over his shoulders, increasing the angle. “That’s right baby, beg me.” He was getting off on her responses and wanted her to really beg before he let her cum.

Jaycee: Oh fuck she was right there, her body was shaking as she fought off her release. Her moans and crying out in pleasure were now screams. Looking up at him completely lost in pleasure, her lips parted as each thrust was taking her breath away. Jaycee’s eyes rolling to the back of her head every once in a while. Okay Daddy she thought to herself. Her pussy tightening over his cock, indicating she was right there. Completely at his mercy as he was in control. “Pl.” licking her lips as her eyes had an innocent look as she begged. “Please let me come, feels so fucking good.. I want to cum all over your cock” her screams got louder the longer she held off. Pain of needing a release and also enhancing pleasure. “You know you want to feel my pussy milk you of every last drop.”

Ben: He groaned and moaned as she got louder, feeling himself getting louder in turn as he kept pounding into her, loving how she was taking all of his length every time like a good girl. He was so close to finishing but he needed her to finish first, he needed to see just what he could do to her. “Please who?” He voice practically a growl as he was so close to the edge. He wanted to see if she’d call him daddy with out having to tell her explicitly. The way she was offering herself up so willingly, was driving him crazy.

Jaycee: Her legs wrapped around him as he kept pounding into her, moans and guttural moaning was falling from her lips. “Fuck.. Daddy I need to cum..” she cried out of frustration with moans quickly following. Her body was shaking harder knowing she was about to lose her hold, leaking her greedy cum. “I’m..” gasping, clawing at his back. “Please.. Daddy, let me..” she continued to beg, her toes locked in a tight curl. Jaycee furrowed her brows as she was trying to hold off, gasping for sharp breaths. “Oh, fuck..” her back arched changing the angle, the head of his cock hitting her walls and g spot just right. Oh fuck, she’s going to squirt with all of this build up and the way he was controlling her. Jaycee was completely subbed out, and at his mercy.

Ben: His breathing bitched slightly as she called him his favorite name and begged him. He could definitely get use to the sound of that. “Okay baby girl, cum now. Cum for daddy.” He commanded her again as he kept pounding. Unrelenting with his pressure and speed, doing his best to drive her over the edge. He could feel himself being so close too, but he wanted her to cum first, needed to put her in her place before he came inside her.

Jaycee: The second her told her to cum for daddy, her release spilled out of her as she screamed his name. Nails scraping down fresh scratches. “Daddy, it feels so fucking good. I want to feel you cum in me.” She gasped as she continued to ride out her orgasm, feeling another follow pursuit. Her body shaking so hard as her pussy clamped tightly against his cock, milking him of his seed.

Ben: Hearing her scream and call him daddy, combined with the clenching of her dripping pussy around his throbbing length was enough to finally send him over. With a final buck he felt himself finish in her. He let out a yell of pleasure as his head rolled forward and he relaxed his arms slightly, before pulling out. He lay next to her and have her a lazy lope sided grin before placing a kiss to her temple. Definitely not where he expected his night to end, but he was not complaining at all.

Jaycee: Her second orgasm wrecked her as she could still feel him pulsing and coming inside of her, even through the condom. The sounds coming out of him as he came inside of her, caused her to groan out of appreciation. Snuggling into his side after he kissed her temple. Running the tip of her fingers over the definition of his abs and pecks. Jaycee did not plan on this happening but was definitely okay with it happening. Breathing hard and deep, trying to catch her breath. Flattening her hand over the peck closes to her cheek.

Ben: laying there he tried to focus on steadying his breathing, “wow.” He couldn’t help but let out with a slight chuckle as one hand came up to run through his hair and then wrap across both his body and hers. “I think the pizza might be getting cold.” He joked about but made no indication of moving or actually wanting to get up.

Jaycee: Her breathing was slowing down and she hummed at his statement. “Amazing.” She reported to his wow snuggling her face into his chest, giggling at his next words. Her knee and thigh rested between his. “It’s a good thing I have a microwave or an oven.” She teased him, completely comfortable not even caring if the food got wasted at this point. “I don’t want to move.”