#At least now I’m almost done with my resume

[posingforcars]

I want to sleep!!

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[sinful-sonnet]

Between Duty & Desire

Dbf!Joel Miller x babysitter f!Reader

word count: 5.7k

A continuation of this post

Warnings: smut, hair pulling, unprotected piv, I’m too lazy to add anymore lel

-

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you say softly, though your voice betrays how much you don’t want him to stop. Your words are barely a whisper, but he hears them

Joel leans closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “You’re too tense, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His voice is deep, velvet smooth, laced with exhaustion from the day but undeniably tender. His thumbs work against the knots in your shoulders, and you feel your resolve crumbling with every stroke.

“Joel,” you start, his name falling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. His hands still for a moment, and you swear you feel him tense behind you. It’s a line crossed—one you both acknowledge in the stillness of the room.

But then his hands resume their motion, slower this time, his touch more deliberate. “There you go,” he murmurs, almost like he’s soothing himself as much as you. “That’s better.”

You tilt your head to glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. The way he looks at you—soft, yet intense—makes your heart race. “You don’t have to take care of me,” you manage, though the words feel hollow.

“Don’t I?” His voice is soft, but his tone holds weight. He leans down, just enough so that you catch the faint scent of sawdust and soap clinging to him. “You’ve been lookin’ after Sarah all night. Least I can do is look after you.”

The air between you feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and desires. You should step away, remind yourself why this is a terrible idea. But instead, you let his hands linger, his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

“Joel…” you whisper again, his name trembling on your lips. This time, it’s not a warning—it’s a plea.

He leans down further, his voice low and full of something you can’t quite name. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his fingers grazing the curve of your jaw. “And I will.”

You don’t. Instead, you turn slightly toward him, your breath hitching as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth. The world narrows to just the two of you—the quiet hum of the house fading into nothingness as his eyes search yours.

“Sweetheart…” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, but the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine.

And then, as if the pull is too strong to resist, his lips ghost over yours, hesitant but full of promise. It’s tentative, a question, waiting for an answer you’re too far gone to deny.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s standing still. Joel’s lips hover so close to yours that you can feel the heat radiating from him, but something in you snaps back to reality. You pull back abruptly, standing so quickly that the chair scrapes against the floor, breaking the quiet tension of the room.

“I—uh—should go,” you stammer, your heart hammering in your chest as you gather your books and shove them into your bag, your movements frantic and clumsy.

Joel straightens, his brow furrowing in confusion and something else—maybe regret. “Sweetheart—wait,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern.

You don’t look at him as you zip your bag shut, slinging it over your shoulder. “It’s late. I shouldn’t be keeping you up,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays the swirl of emotions inside you. “Sarah’s asleep, so… my job’s done.”

“Darlin’, you don’t have to rush out,” Joel says, his voice gentler now, but you can hear the tension beneath it. He steps closer, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out but knows better.

You finally glance at him, forcing a polite smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you say, your voice steady but distant, like you’re building a wall between you.

His jaw tenses at the formality, but he doesn’t stop you as you move toward the door. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching, but you don’t look back.

“Drive safe,” he murmurs as you step outside, his voice barely audible over the quiet click of the door closing behind you.

As you make your way to your car, the cool night air bites at your skin, grounding you. Your hands shake as you start the engine, and as you pull out of the driveway, you can’t help but glance at the house one last time. The lights in the kitchen window glow softly, and you wonder if he’s still standing there, watching you leave.

Your chest aches, and you grip the steering wheel tighter, willing yourself to push the memory of his touch, his voice, and the almost-kiss out of your mind. This is for the best, you tell yourself, over and over, like a mantra.

But as you drive away, you know deep down that this moment will haunt you—his presence lingering like a shadow you can’t shake.

•

The next time you’re at Joel’s house, you feel different. Stronger. The fresh haircut and perfectly polished nails you decided to get are just surface changes—they symbolize a shift inside you, a decision to stop running and face things head-on. If Joel wants something from you, he’s going to have to show it. You won’t back down this time.

Sarah is asleep, tucked into her bed after a fun evening of games and giggles. Now, you’re sitting at the dining table again, but this time, you aren’t hiding behind your books or keeping your head down. Your posture is relaxed, your chin lifted. You’re ready.

When the door finally opens, you hear the familiar sounds of Joel’s return—the keys hitting the dish, the heavy thud of his boots. You don’t flinch, don’t rush to look busy. Instead, you wait, your heartbeat steady but your anticipation building.

Joel walks into the room, and the second he sees you, his steps falter just slightly. His eyes flicker over you—your hair, your nails, the way you’re sitting so calmly, waiting for him. His gaze lingers for a beat too long, and you see something flicker in his expression, something he’s trying to hold back.

“Evenin’,” he says, his voice low and familiar, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s caught off guard.

“Evening, Mr. Miller,” you reply smoothly, your tone steady but with just enough of a challenge to make his brow twitch. You know he hates when you call him that now, and it’s exactly why you said it.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as he sets his bag down on the counter. “Didn’t we talk about that?”

“We did,” you reply, leaning back slightly, your eyes meeting his with a calm confidence. “But you didn’t exactly say much about anything else, did you?”

That catches him off guard. He pauses, his hand still resting on the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. “What’re you tryin’ to say, sweetheart?”

“I’m saying,” you start, standing up slowly and stepping around the table, closing some of the distance between you, “that I’m done pretending nothing’s going on here.”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his eyes searching yours. “And what exactly do you think’s goin’ on?” he asks, his voice softer now, like he’s afraid of the answer but can’t stop himself from asking.

You take another step closer, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. “That’s up to you to tell me, Joel,” you say, your voice steady but your heart racing. “You keep looking at me like this, saying things that make me think you want something. But I’m not gonna sit here wondering anymore. You want me? Prove it.”

The room feels electric, the air thick with the weight of your words. Joel stares at you, his expression unreadable, but you can see the battle playing out behind his eyes—the push and pull of what he wants versus what he thinks is right.

Finally, he takes a slow step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. “You sure you’re ready for that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, filled with both caution and desire.

You don’t look away, don’t falter. “I’m standing right here, aren’t I?”

For a moment, it’s like the whole world has stopped, the only sound in the room the quiet hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Then, Joel reaches out, his hand brushing lightly against yours, his touch tentative but charged with meaning.

“Alright,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. “You want me to prove it? I will.”

“I’m waiting” you bat your eyelashes innocently at him

Joel's lips twitch into a faint smirk at your words, but there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes— hesitation, caution, desire all tangled together.

He takes another slow step toward you, closing the distance until you can feel the heat radiating off him.

His gaze drops to your lips, lingering for a moment before locking onto your eyes.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he mutters, his voice low and rough, like he's struggling to hold himself back.

You tilt your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you bat your eyelashes again. "Maybe," you say softly. "But you're still stalling, Joel."

His jaw tightens, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. He's not a man who rushes into things, but there's something about the way you're looking at him-challenging him, daring him-that's unraveling every ounce of his restraint.

"I don't think you know what you're askin' for, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. "This ain't somethin' we can just take back."

You take a small step forward, your confidence unwavering. "Maybe I don't want to take it back."

That's all it takes. In an instant, Joel's resolve shatters. He closes the remaining space between you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. His thumb brushes against your cheek, and his eyes search yours one last time, as if giving you a chance to stop him.

But you don't. You're done hesitating, done running.

"I'm waiting," you whisper again, your voice steady but laced with anticipation.

And then his lips are on yours, firm yet gentle, like he's been holding back for far too long.

The kiss is slow at first, tentative, as if he's testing the waters.

But when you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest, he deepens it, his other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer.

It's overwhelming-the way he smells, the way he tastes, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.

You've imagined this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for how real, how intense it feels.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you're both breathless.

His thumb strokes your cheek again as he whispers, "There. That enough proof for you?"

You let out a shaky breath, a smile tugging at your lips. "It's a start."

Joel chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Careful, darlin'" he murmurs, his voice warm and teasing.

"You might just get more than you bargained for."

You meet his gaze, your confidence never wavering. "I'm counting on it."

-

You don't wait for him to make the next move. Instead, you close the small gap between you, pressing your lips against his once more. This time, there's no hesitation. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips, teasing him, challenging him to let you in.

Joel groans softly, a low, rough sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He opens his mouth to you, his tongue meeting yours in a slow, deliberate dance that makes your head spin. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you even closer, like he can't stand the thought of any space between you.

The kiss deepens, becomes hungrier, more urgent. His lips are warm and soft, his stubble scratching against your skin in a way that's intoxicating. You feel his hand slide up your back, fingers brushing lightly against the nape of your neck as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss even further.

You pour every ounce of your frustration, your desire, your longing into the kiss, and he matches you beat for beat. It's raw and electric, a fire that's been simmering for far too long finally igniting.

When you finally pull back for air, your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath. Joel's forehead rests against yours, his dark eyes searching yours with a mix of desire and something softer, something deeper.

"Sweetheart..." he murmurs, his voice hoarse and filled with something you can't quite name. "You really are somethin' else."

You smirk, your confidence burning bright.

"Told you I was waiting."

He chuckles, low and warm, his thumb brushing along your jaw. "You sure you're ready for everything that comes with this?" he asks, his tone serious despite the teasing edge.

You nod, your resolve unshaken. "I'm not backing down, Joel. Not anymore."

His grip on you tightens slightly, his gaze holding yours. "Alright," he murmurs, his voice steady.

"Then let's see where this goes."

-

Your heart pounds as you look up at Joel, his grip firm but not controlling, his dark eyes studying you. Something inside you flares—a mix of confidence and curiosity. You want to see if you can take charge, see how far he's willing to let you lead.

You press your hands against his chest, pushing him gently but firmly back until the edge of the table catches him. He raises an eyebrow at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but he doesn't resist.

"What are you doin', sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and rough, laced with curiosity and amusement.

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Showing you I'm not afraid,"

you say, your voice bold, unwavering.

"I'm not just gonna let you call the shots, Joel."

His smirk widens, his hands instinctively settling on your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of your jeans. "That right?" he drawls, his tone teasing but edged with something darker, something thrilling. "You think you're in charge now?"

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "For now."

Without waiting for a reply, you kiss him again, this time with more force, more determination. Your tongue slides into his mouth, tangling with his, and you hear a low growl rumble from his chest. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, but he lets you set the pace, lets you take the lead.

You trail your hands up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips, and his breath hitches when your nails scrape lightly against his skin through his shirt. You kiss him harder, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip before soothing the spot with your tongue. He lets out a soft curse, his grip on you momentarily tightening before he reins himself in.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might flip the script on you, take back control. But he doesn't-at least not yet. Instead, he lets you continue, his hands roaming your sides, his lips parting for you every time you claim him.

You feel powerful, exhilarated, but there's an undercurrent of tension, a silent promise in the way his fingers grip your waist. Joel might be letting you take charge for now, but you know it's only because he's allowing it. There's a storm brewing in his restraint, and you can't help but wonder what will happen when it finally breaks.

Joel pulls back from the kiss, his breathing uneven, his forehead resting against yours. His grip on your waist tightens just enough for you to feel the quiet power in his hands—a reminder that while he's let you take the lead, he hasn't truly surrendered.

His eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There's heat there, yes, but also something deeper, something unspoken that makes the air between you crackle.

"You're somethin' else," he mutters, his voice low and rough, the Texan drawl thick enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Pushin' me like this... You sure you know what you're gettin' into?"

His words hang in the air, a challenge and a warning all wrapped in one. But you're not backing down. Not now. You lift your chin slightly, your eyes never leaving his as you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," you say, your voice steady but laced with a teasing edge. "The question is-do you?"

Joel chuckles softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "You've got a sharp tongue, darlin'" he says, his hands sliding up your sides, slow and deliberate. "But let me tell you somethin!"

His grip shifts, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice drops even lower, a whisper that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

"There's only so much of this I'm gonna let you get away with," he murmurs, the warning clear in his tone. "You keep pushin, and I'm gonna remind you who's really in charge here."

The words send a thrill through you, but you're not ready to give in yet. You lean back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips curling into a defiant smile.

"Maybe I want you to remind me," you say, your voice soft but daring.

Joel's eyes darken further, his grip on you tightening just enough to make your heart race. For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable, as though he's deciding whether to rise to your challenge or let you keep playing this dangerous game.

Then, with a suddenness that leaves you breathless, he flips the dynamic entirely. His hands grip your waist firmly, lifting you effortlessly off his lap and setting you on the edge of the table. He steps between your knees, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in.

"You've had your fun, sweetheart," he drawls, his voice low and commanding, his eyes burning into yours. "Now it's my turn."

Joel's lips trail down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine as he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

Each touch is deliberate, possessive, as though he's staking his claim. You tilt your head back slightly, letting him have his way, the sensation overwhelming and intoxicating.

His hands slide up your thighs, the roughness of his palms a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. His grip tightens as he pulls you closer to the edge of the table, his strength undeniable as he presses his body flush against yours. The solid heat of him grounds you, even as your heart races.

"You're mine, princess," he growls against your neck, his voice low and rough, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. "And don't you ever forget it."

His words make your breath hitch, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something deep within you. You want to challenge him, to push back against his dominance, but the way he holds you, the way he speaks to you, makes it impossible to do anything but surrender—for now.

Your hands slide up his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer. "Is that so?" you whisper, your voice daring but breathless. "Then maybe you should show me, Joel."

His eyes darken at your words, his gaze locking onto yours with a fire that takes your breath away. "You keep askin' for it," he mutters, his voice low and dangerous, "and I'm gonna give it to you. But you better be ready for what comes next, sweetheart."

The challenge in his words makes your pulse quicken, but you nod, your confidence unwavering. "I can handle it."

Joel smirks, a wicked, knowing grin that sends heat flooding through you. "We'll see about that." His lips crash against yours again, his kiss searing and unapologetic, leaving no room for doubt about who's in charge now.

Joel's kiss is overwhelming, consuming, leaving no space for thought or hesitation. His lips are firm against yours, his tongue demanding as it tangles with yours. He's not holding back anymore-every touch, every movement speaks of a man who's been pushed past his limits.

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he presses you more firmly against the edge of the table, his body flush against yours. The way he moves, the way he holds you, leaves no doubt in your mind—he's in control now, and he's making sure you know it.

"You've got no idea what you've started, darlin'" he growls against your lips, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and desire. "But you're gonna find out real quick."

You gasp as his lips return to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucks just hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips. His hands slide up further, his thumbs brushing against your hips, teasing you, testing your resolve.

"Still think you're the one in charge?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

You tilt your head slightly, your breath hitching as you try to regain some of your earlier confidence. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up."

Joel chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates against your neck. "Keep up?" he repeats, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and piercing.

"Sweetheart, you've got no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

His words are a promise, a warning, and a challenge all at once. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"You think you can push me like this and come out on top?" His hand slides up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the intensity in his eyes. "Let me make somethin' real clear."

His lips crash against yours again, this time even more commanding, more consuming. His kiss leaves you breathless, his hands gripping you like he's afraid to let go. It's a battle of wills, but one you're losing-and you're not even sure you mind.

Joel's kiss grows fiercer, more demanding, as he takes full control. His tongue delves deeper, exploring your mouth with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His teeth catch your bottom lip, nipping just enough to send a jolt through you before soothing it with his tongue, as if he's both punishing and rewarding you for pushing him this far.

His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you even closer, until there's no space left between you. His body pins you against the table, his weight pressing you down as his hips grind against yours. The friction is electrifying, sending heat surging through you, and you can't help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.

"You feel that?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and low, dripping with desire. "That's what you do to me, sweetheart. You've been teasin' me, pushin' me-and now, you're gonna take all of it."

The evidence of his arousal presses firmly against you, a stark, undeniable reminder of just how much power he has in this moment. But it's not just physical-it's the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he speaks to you. Every word, every movement is calculated, deliberate, meant to show you exactly who's in control.

Your breath catches as his lips trail down your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucks hard enough to leave another mark. His hands roam your body, possessive and firm, as if he's memorizing every curve, every reaction. He's relentless, and you can feel yourself surrendering completely to him, letting him take whatever he wants.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Joel growls, his voice a mixture of amusement and raw desire. "You wanted me to take control, to show you who you belong to."

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your hands gripping his shoulders as you cling to him, completely at his mercy.

Joel then lifts you up and carries you to the living room. He lays you down on the couch, positioning you so that you're bent over the arm. He stands behind you, his hands quickly unbuttoning and removing your pants.

He lets out a low growl as he takes in the sight of you, completely at his mercy and vulnerable to his touch.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Bent over like a good girl for me.”

He groans as you push your ass against him, the feeling of your body against his making him even harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he leans over you.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Joel grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls “tell me how much you need me darlin’”

You gasp as he grabs your hair, the sting of his grip sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“I need you so much,” you whimper, your voice shaky with desire. “Please, Joel.. I need you to touch me.”

He circles his fingers around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. He knows your body well, knows exactly how to touch you to make you squirm and beg for more.

He continues to tease you, his lips moving up to your ear as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

“That feel good, princess?”

You nod frantically, your body arching against his touch as you let out a needy whimper.

“Y-yes, Joel.. please.. more..”

He smirks against your skin, pleased with your response. He loves the way you beg for him, the way you give yourself over to him completely.

He continues to circle your clit with his fingers, his touch growing firmer as he increases the pressure.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. “Begging for me like that..”

He leans down, his lips moving to your ear once again as he whispers in a low, commanding tone.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Tell me how much you need me to make you feel good.”

You shiver at the command in his voice, your body trembling with need.

“I need you so badly,” you whimper, your voice shaking with desire. “Please, Joel.. I need you to make me cum. I need you to make me feel good..”

You whimper in response, unable to do anything but let out a series of desperate, needy sounds as his fingers continue to work their magic against your clit. You're completely at his mercy, your body trembling and your mind filled with a haze of pleasure.

He knows he has you exactly where he wants you, completely surrendered to his touch and his control.

He moves quickly, unable to wait any longer to be inside you. He grabs your hips, positioning himself at your entrance as he looks down at you with a mixture of hunger and desire.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he growls, his voice rough with need.

Joel pushes into you in one swift, powerful thrust, filling you completely in one movement. He lets out a low groan, his fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to control himself.

“God, you feel so good..” he murmurs, his voice ragged with pleasure. “So tight and perfect around me..”

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, savoring the feeling of being inside you. But as his control starts to slip, his pace quickens, each thrust becoming more and more forceful.

“You like this don’t you darlin,” he growls, his voice possessive and dominant.

You nod desperately, your mind consumed by the pleasure he’s giving you. Every thrust sends waves of ecstasy through your body, making it hard to think or speak.

“Yes.. I love it,” you manage to gasp out, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “I love feeling you inside me..”

He grins, pleased by your response. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, can feel you clenching around him as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, his voice filled with possessive satisfaction. “Let me hear you say it.. tell me how much you need me to claim you..”

You just let out a loud moan as you come undone.

He groans as you come around him, your body clenching tightly around his cock. He continues to thrust into you, struggling to hold back his own release as he looks over at Sarah's door, making sure it's still shut.

He doesn't want her to see or hear any of this.. he doesn't want anyone to know how he's claiming you, how he's making you his in every way possible..

He grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts harder and faster, chasing his own release. He's close, so close to the edge, and the sight of you coming undone beneath him only pushes him further.

“Fuck.. I’m gonna fill you up,” he growls, his voice strained

His grip on your hips tightens as he continues to pound into you, his pace becoming erratic and desperate. He can feel his orgasm building, the pleasure building up until it’s almost unbearable.

“Take it.. take all of it,” he grunts, his voice hoarse with need. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, princess..”

His hips stutter and his grip on you tightens even more as he reaches his peak. With one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and cums with a guttural groan, his release spilling into you in hot, pulsing waves.

He leans over you, his body trembling as he rides out his orgasm, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath.

Joel leans over you, his strong arms braced on either side of you, his body trembling as he lets the intensity of the moment consume him. His forehead presses against the back of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he tries to steady himself, both of you still caught in the aftershocks of everything you’ve shared.

For a long moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of his labored breathing and the faint hum of the world outside. His face remains buried against your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin in a way that feels both grounding and intimate. You can feel the weight of him, his warmth pressing into you, a tangible reminder of the connection you’ve just forged.

“Sweetheart…” he finally murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with both exhaustion and something softer. His hand slides down to rest on your hip, his touch gentler now, almost reverent.

You turn your head slightly, your breathing still uneven as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. His dark eyes are softer now, the fiery intensity replaced with a quiet tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I told you,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your body still tingling from the overwhelming sensations. “I think I might have an idea now,” you reply, your voice teasing but filled with warmth.

Joel chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling as he shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you upright against his chest. He holds you there, his grip firm but comforting, as if he’s afraid to let go.

-

Joel steps back, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment before he finally lets go, his touch warm and steady despite the nervous laugh that escapes him. He rubs the back of his neck, his expression softening as he looks at you, a mixture of concern and tenderness in his eyes.

“I got a little carried away there,” he admits, his voice low, the faintest hint of guilt creeping in. “Are you alright?”

You turn to face him, brushing your hair back from your face as you meet his gaze. There’s no hesitation in your voice when you reply. “Yes, I’m fine.” You offer him a small, reassuring smile before adding, “But… would it be okay if I took, like… a bath? Maybe?”

Joel blinks, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he lets out a soft chuckle. “’Course it’s okay,” he says, his voice warm and genuine. “You don’t even have to ask, sweetheart. Go on—I’ll make sure Sarah stays asleep.”

You nod, your smile growing as the tension in the room begins to ease. “Thanks, Joel.”

He gestures toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll grab you some towels.”

As you head toward the bathroom, you hear him rummaging through a closet, his quiet movements a comforting presence even as you step away. When you reach the door, he appears a moment later with a neatly folded towel in one hand and a soft smile on his face.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you. His fingers brush against yours briefly, and for a moment, his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you’re really okay.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice steady but laced with sincerity.

Joel nods, stepping back to give you space. “Take your time,” he says. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You close the door behind you, the warmth of his presence still lingering as you turn on the faucet and let the sound of running water fill the room. As the tub begins to fill, you take a deep breath, letting the events of the evening wash over you. Whatever happens next, you know one thing for sure: Joel cares, and that thought alone makes you feel a little more grounded.

A/N: \(//∇//)\ i seriously can’t get enough of dbf!joel…send me to horny jail now

[iwritefandomimagines]

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT — JESS MARIANO

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: decorating luke’s for christmas reminds you how far from festive jess is. but it might also lead to confessions that put him much more in the christmas spirit.

warnings: little swearing. fluff !!!

author’s note: shoutout to i’ll be home for christmas in this imagine is because it’s my all time fave xmas film and i had a HUGE crush on jonathan taylor thomas as a child because of it. it’s also not super long but i made sure it’s not too short… anyway ENJOY! <3

“Y’know, I don’t see why you have to be such a Grinch,” you pulled the candy cane from between your lips as Jess scoffed, “All Luke asked was for us to put up a few decorations. Even he has more fucking Christmas spirit than you!”

Jess rolled his eyes, “Oh sure, because I’m usually so enthusiastic about stuff like this. How out of character of me,” he paused to touch his forehead with the back of his hand, “I must be getting ill.”

You tutted, placing the last of your candy cane back into your mouth with a crunch! and folding your arms across your chest.

He quirked his brow, waiting for a snarky response that never came.

Instead, you turned on your heels and headed over to the stereo, flicking the switch and resuming the Christmas CD you’d been listening to before he’d grumpily trundled down the stairs into the diner.

“Oh God,” Jess groaned, “Do you seriously enjoy torturing me?”

You scoffed, “Do you want the honest answer?”

It was at that moment Luke briefly poked his head round the corner, “What are you two bickering about now?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as Jess did the exact same thing, except with a huge wad of tinsel now attached to his sweater.

He waved his arm around frantically as you burst out laughing at his desperate attempt to rid himself of the sparkly red decoration, “For fu—,”

“Ask Ebenezer Scrooge over here,” you teased, freeing Jess of the tinsel by yanking it away as Luke rolled his eyes, “Just help her out, Jess.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Being a moron.”

“Fork found in kitchen,” you mumbled, earning a glare from Jess, “We’re nearly done, c’mon.”

Jess fought back a smirk, folding his arms again and shaking his head, “You’re a pain in the ass, Y/N.”

“At least I’m a festive pain in the ass,” you sing-songed, twirling tinsel around the cash register as he laughed at you, “Hey, I can see a smile there! He can smile! What a heartthrob. I could almost mistake you for Jonathan Taylor Thomas in I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

“I look like who from what?” Jess contorted his face in confusion, unsure whether what you were saying was a compliment.

Kirk appeared out of nowhere beside you both, an inquisitive expression on his face, “Jonathan Taylor Thomas from the 1998 Christmas movie I’ll Be Home for Christmas. I have to say I think you’re wrong though, Y/N. He doesn’t have nearly as much of his boyish charm.”

You burst out laughing again, clasping your hand to your mouth as you watched Jess blush just a little as he stood slack-jawed.

“Boyish charm? I’ve got plenty of boyish charm,” Jess scoffed, puffing out his chest, “Why do I look like him anyway?”

“Oh, you don’t,” Kirk shrugged, “Y/N just has a crush on him and a crush on you.”

“Ok that’s quite enough from you Kirk,” It was your turn to blush crimson now as you gestured towards the tables, “We’re not even open yet. You—uh— just go sit down.”

“A crush on me, huh?” Jess was smirking now, and you couldn’t tell if the bubbling in your stomach was sheer embarrassment or excitement at the way he was looking at you.

Obviously, it was both.

You shook your head, “Oh, ‘cause you should totally trust Kirk.”

Jess quirked his eyebrow, “When it comes to town gossip, I’d say I do.”

You looked down at your feet, cheeks still incredibly warm and your heart palpitating so hard you were sure it’d burst out of your chest at any moment.

“You know, you’ve gone bright red. So red in fact that I think it’s put me in a festive mood,” Jess quipped smugly, elbow on the counter as he leaned a little closer to you.

You scoffed, “It took me being embarrassed to feel festive?”

Jess shook his head, and said nothing for a moment.

You wondered whether he was about to embarrass you even further, but his expression softened so much that it confused you.

“No, it took being told that you do like me,” he shrugged, but he was clearly not as nonchalant about it as he was trying to appear, “To save me the embarrassment of a not so festive rejection under the many, many Christmas lights— seriously why do we need so fuckin’ many?”

Your heart swelled at his initial words, but you rolled your eyes yet again at his grumbling about the Christmas lights, “It’s Christmas, Jess. And so pretty.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jess was quieter as he spoke now, his eyes twinkling as he moved even closer to you, “So pretty.”

Now you were certain that every drop of blood had rushed to your cheeks, the intensity of his stare making you bite your lip and look away again.

His hand lifted up to touch your cheek, drawing your eyes back to meet his.

Your mouth had gone dry, and you couldn’t help but notice how carefully he watched your lips as your tongue swiped over them.

“You—I—We need to finish decorating and open up, Jess,” you stammered, but Jess wasn’t letting you get out of this conversation now.

“If it wasn’t for Kirk, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he looked briefly away and saw that Kirk had seemingly entirely disappeared, “Oh, it might be my lucky day. Now I’m really feeling festive.”

You giggled, “Then what—what’re you waiting for?”

He didn’t waste a moment after that, immediately capturing your lips with his as you leaned into his chest.

The kiss was short lived, but you almost didn’t mind because your mind was racing at the fact that it was actually even happening at all.

Jess beamed across at you as you pulled back, your eyes locked on each other for a fair few moments of silence.

“I’m finally in the Christmas spirit, Y/N,” he sing-songed as he finally broke the silence, still staring intently at you as you shivered under his gaze, “So much so that I think I’d like to go watch the town Christmas lights being switched on tonight. If you’re up for it. If not, like, whatever. Just a suggestion. Since you love Christmas and—,”

You laughed, placing a hand on his bicep to interrupt his rambling, “I’d really like that, Jess. Even if you are going to drive me nuts complaining about the lights, it’d be nice to go. Like, together.”

Jess seemed pleased with that answer, a broad smile overtaking his face as he leaned in even closer, “It’s a date, then. And now we can get back to decorating.”

You bit your lip, “A date. Woah, Jess Mariano is taking me on a date to see the Christmas lights getting switched on. If I didn’t know any better I’d think I was still tucked up in bed dreaming.”

“I’m in your dreams a lot then, huh?” he teased, the smirk back gracing his features as you gently nudged his arm, “My nightmares, maybe.”

“Hm, guess you dream about that John Tyler guy more then,” he feigned offence, and despite mistaking the name you found his pout incredibly adorable.

You laughed, “Jonathan Taylor Thomas?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t be jealous, Mariano,” you hummed, leaning into his side as you teased him.

“I’m not jealous,” he grunted, “What does he even look like anyway?”

You giggled, and he didn’t seem impressed by the way you went straight into your head thinking about the actor, “You’ll find out later when I force you to come back to mine and watch it with me after the lights are on.”

“No fuckin’ way!” he shook his head, and you forced a pout until he sighed, “Fine. Only because I like you. And I’m choosing our takeout if I’m going to be third-wheeling you and the TV on our first date.”

You grinned, “Fine by me. It’s a date!”

“A date? Finally, kid,” Luke reemerged for a moment again, poking his head around the corner of the kitchen.

“He’s taking me to see the Christmas lights being switched on,” you grinned, watching Luke’s brief shocked expression being quickly replaced by a small smile.

“The lights?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“I knew he liked you, I mean the whole town did. But it looks like he must really like you, huh?”

“Yeah,” you basically whispered, looking over at Jess for a moment and seeing him smiling softly at you despite his irritation at his uncle poking his nose in, “I guess he does.”

———

happy festive season guys!

this has been in the drafts for a couple weeks near finished but i’ve finally got it done now <3 might write some more festive imagines so if there are any characters you’d like to see that for then please let me know.

as usual — thanks for reading, here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my stuff!

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (05)

chapter five: say what you mean

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, kissing, we’re starting to dip our toes into angsty territory !!, less edited than i’d like but what’s new lol word count: 2.8k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you’re ready My head’s getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you, I adore you

Adore - Dean Lewis

Whenever Minho asks if you two could hang out together at your place, it usually means that you will end up in your bed.

Tonight you suppose is no different.

Even though you often cap off the night having engaged in activities that could make the Victorian lady in Hyunjin faint, it’s not all that you do. Both you and Minho never let yourselves forget that you’re friends first and foremost. Sex is the added benefit that should never take anything away from your friendship. He is still one of the people you’re most comfortable with, one of the few people whose company you enjoy.

You’re sprawled out on the couch in your small living room when Minho returns from the kitchen with a plate of freshly peeled tangerines, the same ones that he brought over earlier. You push yourself to half-sit up so he could squeeze himself between you and the armrest, before you go back to laying your head on his lap as you two resume watching a bad movie that you put on.

“I hate this so much,” you comment, your eyes glued to the TV screen.

“You picked the movie,” Minho says. “It’s not that bad. The plot is kind of decent.”

“I’m not talking about that. Jeez, if they wanted to make a movie where the main character is a graphic designer, you’d think that they would at least consult someone who knows literally anything about visual art. Look at that horrendous typography job, the text isn’t even aligned with the edges and corners. This is hurting my soul.”

Your cushions (Minho’s thighs) shake lightly as he laughs at your dramatic outburst over something as trivial as a fictional character’s poor standards of digital art. But you really aren’t kidding; the way the woman on screen is butchering the text alignment is quite literally making that very particular part of your brain want to shut down for the next five to seven business days.

“They should’ve consulted you first, is that right?” Minho asks.

“They really should have. I could’ve done wonders for them,” you say matter-of-factly. “I almost majored in graphic design, y’know.”

You have a habit of biting your tongue around others because you know that people don’t really care about the same things you do. Whenever the opportunity arises for you to share tidbits about your interests, excitement would tumble out of you only to be quashed soon after when no one wants to listen to your silly little rambles. It’s disheartening, you’re used to it.

But you never feel that way around Minho. He always lets you babble on about anything and everything, even if he might not know what the hell you’re talking about. He indulges you. He never makes you feel neglected or ignored.

“Hmm, my little genius artist.” He taps your cheek once, and when you turn your head to glance at him, he tells you to open up before he slips a slice of tangerine past your lips. “You’re right. Even I can tell that it’s horrendous.”

You hum appreciatively when the sweetness of the juicy fruit floods your tastebuds. Minho’s hand trails down your arm to rest on your stomach, just below your ribs where he fiddles with the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. If he moves his hand up, he would be grazing your bare chest underneath your shirt. You didn’t bother with a bra because, well, comfort above all else, especially within the four walls of your own home. Besides, it’s nothing that Minho hasn’t seen anyway.

He keeps on feeding you tangerines in between your complaints about bad design standards until the movie ends and the plate is cleared. The only sound in the room is the soft music on the TV as the credits start to roll.

You turn to lie on your back, staring up at Minho. “That was deeply disturbing.”

“You chose it,” he reminds you. “You went in knowing what the premise was.”

“Yeah, I have no one to blame but me. I had too much faith in humanity.”

“And you call me weird.”

“You are weird,” you say. “But I like weird.”

Minho looks down at you and for a moment, he says nothing. His fingers trace something on your stomach. A heart or an odd circle, you don’t know; you’re always bad at deciphering those. His eyelids fall a bit, softening the usual sharpness of his gaze.

Then he’s pulling you by your shoulders, guiding you to sit up and before you know it, you’re situated on his lap with one of his hands on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. Minho tugs you closer, meeting your lips in a kiss in which you waste no time returning.

He’s sweet, like the tangerines that you were sharing all evening. It tends to start like this - sort of randomly, whenever it feels right. He squeezes your side in a comforting gesture as his tongue slips into your mouth. There are times where it’s more urgent, where one of you is needy and desperately seeks the escape and release that can only be found in the other’s embrace. Other times, it’s slower, more gentle, where you can really focus on making each other feel fully satiated.

This, right now - you would pinpoint somewhere in the middle. There’s no fiery clothes-ripping urge, nor a need to lay the other person bare and knead every single knot of stress from their system. Today, there’s just languid wanting; an unhurried inclination to be close.

Him and his tangerine flavored kiss, you and your resolve built on shaky foundation.

You start rolling your hips over his, tugging on his shirt because you want to feel his skin against yours. Minho stops you though; he puts both hands on your hips and pulls his lips away from yours. You blink, dazed, confused.

“I...” he starts, trying to even out his breathing as he finds the words. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Embarrassment instantly washes over you. The rejection is a little humiliating; it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around him. Your cheeks catch fire from the mortification, and you’re very aware that you’re still sitting in his lap, right over his crotch.

Wanting to climb off of him and just fucking bury yourself in a ditch, you start stuttering like an absolute fool, “Oh... Y-yeah, no, of course! Shit, shit, I’m sorry. Of course we don’t have t-”

Minho holds you in place, one of the hands on your hips goes to cup your cheek to make you look at him. It effectively shuts you right up.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in an earnest apology. “I just want to keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s holding your face, your waist, so delicately. He looks drunk on your presence alone even though neither of you have had a single drop of alcohol tonight, so sincere in his simple request that you feel your heart swell tenfold.

You want it too. You’re more than okay with just kissing him.

You don’t answer him verbally. Instead, you just nod and move to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his soft hair. The sweetness of the tangerines grows more and more distant as you chase his lips, but you can taste his smile. It’s infinitely more saccharine, and it only grows sweeter when he holds you close and knocks the breath out of you.

When you pull away for air, you slump against him, hiding your face in the crook of his face, shy all of a sudden. He keeps you there but continues with his onslaught of kisses - on your hair, your cheek, your neck, anywhere his lips can reach. Like he simply can’t get enough of you.

“You really like kissing,” you comment, giggling quietly as you do. “Even when we… y’know, bone.”

“Bone? You’re so romantic, babe.” You feel the rumbles of Minho’s chest as he lets out a hearty laugh, the sound of which fills the space of your modest home, embeds itself in every nook and crevice, in between every minuscule crack in your walls until the whole place feels warmer, brighter somehow. “Are you complaining?”

“No... just pointing it out.”

“Well, I like kissing you,” he says. “You’re not a terrible kisser, I guess.”

You sit up straighter and catch the teasing grin on his face before you roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Says the girl who uses ‘bone’ to describe sex.”

“It’s a perfectly good euphemism for ‘sex’.”

“You might as well just say ‘boink’.”

“Literally shut up.”

“Sure.”

Then he’s pressing his mischievous smile against your mouth once more, and you can’t really wrap your mind around how it’s even possible that he keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. His sugary kisses send warmth tingling up your spine, make a fluttery sensation erupt in your stomach. You’re lightheaded, and not the kind that can be remedied by a sufficient fix of blood oxygen.

Even though you’re perfectly content with kissing, there’s a certain implication that comes with only kissing that you’re not sure what to do with. He’s literally inside of you on a weekly basis and yet, this feels much more intimate than anything you two have ever done.

Because friends don’t kiss each other the way he’s kissing you right now. Friends don’t kiss each other the way you’re kissing him back.

A chime from your phone breaks you two apart, the intrusion forcing a mildly frustrated grunt from Minho. You find the mobile device hidden between the cushions of your couch, and after you quickly scan the notification on the screen, you tell him, “It’s Hyunjin.”

“What did I say? It’s always him at the scene of the crime,” Minho mutters, speaking in the same tone that one would when their sibling interrupts a round of their favorite video game. “What does he want?”

“Just wants me to send him a photo of the sample portfolio from our class.”

“Ignore him. He can wait.”

“He’ll call me if I don’t reply.”

“He’s so annoying,” Minho grumbles but loosens his hold on you nonetheless. “Hurry back.”

“It’ll only take a minute, you big baby,” you chuckle, pressing a swift peck to his lips before you get up from the couch and head toward your bedroom with your phone in hand, searching for the binder that Hyunjin is asking about.

Once you’ve snapped the picture and sent it to your friend, you return to the living room. When Minho hears your footsteps, he holds out an arm, silently beckoning you into his embrace again. And you do. You slide into the space next to him, slotting perfectly against his side.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace along his forearm until they reach his wrist. “This is pretty,” you say, touching the thin link bracelet that he always wears, the one with a small charm hanging off the center in the simple outline of a dove.

“You like it? I’ve had it for ages.”

“Mhmm, it suits you.”

A moment passes where you both sit in silence as you fiddle with the gold jewelry, and you can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time. After a while, he pries your fingers off his skin, only to swiftly take off the trinket.

“No, Min. What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you. You attempt (in vain) to pull your wrist back but Minho is stronger. He holds it in place as he clasps the chain around your wrist.

“Minho, you are not giving me your bracelet.”

“Relax. It’s not like it was passed down from my great-great-grandfather. It’s just a random bracelet I bought when I was 18.”

“Why would you even give me your bracelet?”

He shrugs, as though he’s merely doing something as simple as letting you borrow you a pen. “It looks good on you.”

You look down to where his hand is still on your skin, his thumb gently sliding over your pulse point as he admires how the dainty gold reflects the dim lighting in your home.

And he’s right. It does look good, but he probably doesn’t mean it in the same way that you’re thinking of right now. You think it looks good because it’s something that belongs to him that’s now wrapped snugly around your wrist, like some sort of affirmation spoken in a language that only the two of you can understand.

Minho leans over and presses his warm lips to your forehead. It takes you by surprise, the way he does it as if it’s second nature to be this affectionate with you. It’s a tipping point, then suddenly your thoughts are running rampant.

The instruction has always been plain and simple: No strings attached.

But...

The chaste kisses with no expectation of sex, being protective when you’re in the presence of other guys, even giving you his bracelet to wear just because you said it was pretty.

Why do all of these sound an awful lot like strings?

You hesitate, then you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Hmm? You wanna watch another movie?”

“No, that’s not... What are we doing?” You don’t even know what word to put more emphasis on.

Minho looks at you and loosens his fingers. What he can’t understand through your words, you think he sees it in your eyes. “Say what you mean.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course we are.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Do you not want to be friends anymore?” He cracks a smile, but you can tell that he’s just doing it to lighten you up. “You have terrible timing. I literally just gave you a bracelet.”

“Friends don’t do that.”

“Friends don’t give each other bracelets?”

“Friends don’t kiss like that.”

Minho seems a bit taken aback, though he regains his composure in mere seconds, his voice calm as he tells you, “Friends don’t have sex either.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. What are you saying? You brought it up.”

You open your mouth, only to subsequently close it because your thoughts were never really that coherent in the first place. You look away from him to glance down at your wrist.

“You’re being confusing,” Minho says quietly, honestly.

“I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

“Did anything change for you?” he asks.

“No,” is what you tell him after a long minute, when what you really mean to say is I don’t know. You can see it as it happens, some stars fading from his eyes, some light growing more faint in his irises. Though the despondence on his face disappears so fast that you’re not sure if it was even there at all, or if it was only a figment of your imagination.

Then you throw the question back at him. “Did anything change? For you?”

Minho’s answer is the same as yours - a clear No - and yet, it makes you feel like you’ve been punctured by something sharp. You don’t know why your heart drops upon hearing him say the exact same thing that you did, but you try not to let it show on your face. Your poker face isn’t anywhere as good as his, but you hope that it’s enough.

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod a little.

“Then nothing’s changed.” He strokes your hair, emphasizing his point with a soft smile as he reassures you, “And nothing has to change. It’s a bracelet, don’t overthink it. We’re good.”

Sometimes, the decisions you make are bad because you can foresee the outcomes, or at least, you have an idea of the consequences will be later on and yet, you still choose to go through with it anyway.

Just like how you chose to watch a movie you knew would drive you crazy with its trivial details, you choose to accept the feeling of Minho’s bracelet around your wrist. You choose to believe him when he said nothing has changed, and that nothing has to change. You choose to sweep under the rug the thoughts that you’ve been having about him lately. You choose to overlook the reason why you’ve been having those thoughts instead of facing it head-on because you’re terrified of what you’d find if you dig deeper.

You choose to let the conversation end here though it still lingers in your mind, and you choose to let him kiss you goodnight when he leaves because tonight has already been a series of bad decision after bad decision anyway.

And when you fall asleep, it’s the soothing coolness of the golden dove against your skin that lulls you to slumber, like he’s here right beside you to hold you through the night.

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 18.02.2024]

[rentenwins]

prince’s paintings (crownprince!ricky x reader)

synopsis: crown prince ricky loves art, when he’s not creating art, he loves to observe. when a painting of his takes a detour from its place on the wall, he’s determined to find it.

content: royal!au themes, slice of life, raura (ricky royal aura), sweet lovelicky, gunwook mention, zb1 members as members of the royal court, lowercase intended, gn reader

a/n: long time no write! i wrote this a while ago (around the same time as the prince gyuvin au). i just got back from zb1’s concert, the pcd is HITTING VERY HARD. seeing ricky irl was a life-changing experience tbh. enjoy this!!

wc: 1624

‘oh that’s weird.’ ricky thinks to himself, there’s an odd rectangular blank on the wall where an oil painting of the palace’s garden usually hung. he’s seen other paintings go missing for two or three weeks at most growing up, yet as he grew older, he noticed things more reverently and time became obscure. so really it’s only been a few days since it’s been missing, but ricky had to admit it’s one of his favourite pieces. he missed seeing it whenever he crossed the halls.

however, ricky knew that the paintings were too exquisite to leave the palace, so it was often restored in a room at the end of the palace’s east wing. he makes his way down after breakfast, after being informed his friends, other young men who were noble to the royal family, had wanted to meet the crown prince for lunch. he is dressed in his usual white button-up, black slacks and black dress shoes, forgoing his waistcoat last minute. if he were to wander the halls, he had to look presentable to guests who he would least expect to wander on a random thursday morning.

he passes a few housekeepers, who curtsy as he walks past and he nods with a smile. his sharp and cold features made him develop a habit to smile unconsciously. ricky reaches the last room, knocks on the door and slowly opens it with a creak. he sees a familiar frame laid flat on a large collapsible table with someone’s hair poking out from behind it. you stand and almost flinch seeing the crown prince by the doorway.

“good morning, y-your highness.”

‘smooth’ you cursed internally, but the prince didn’t seem to notice.

“good morning to you too,” ricky steps beside the frame, closer to you. “i don’t think we’ve met before.” he sees a fine brush in your hand, then he looks at the painting. the painting was brighter than he had remembered it being. the mustardy-yellow of the tulips on the foreground were vibrant now, though only half of it seemed to be completed.

“my name is y/n. it’s an honour to meet you, your highness. i’ve been requested to restore this painting by one of the other noble families. i’m sorry for the mess. restoration isn’t exactly one of the cleanest jobs…”

ricky smiles, though you’re not sure if it’s towards the painting or towards your flustered expression.

“i trust you to take care of it, y/n. it’s one of my favourite paintings. i couldn’t help but notice it’s been missing for a few days. i just thought i’d come and see for myself. though i see there’s nothing much for me to worry about at all.”

you blush. you didn’t expect your first interaction with the prince to be one of flattery. your younger brother, gunwook, was right. he really did have an unbeatable aura. you murmur a thank you and he stalks towards the open windows after he nods again. the windows were open to allow circulation in the room, yet he oddly found comfort in the smell of oil paints.

as you resumed the colouration of the tulips, ricky asks from the window, “how long have you been restoring paintings, y/n?”

“i’ve been learning since i was 13 and helping my father with his restoration projects, but i’ve only been doing it myself two years ago. i’ve always liked painting, and the palace has an amazing collection. it’s great to see them in person too.”

ricky smiles to himself. ‘she likes paintings too.’

“tell me what you’ve done so far y/n.” he sits on the lover’s seat by the window.

he encourages your tangent as he learns the intricacies of restoration. you learn that ricky was fond of painting but never had someone to share his hobby with. he told you about his friends, though the relation with gunwook never surfaced. the two of you talked as you continued to restore the painting, moving on from the yellow tulips to the grey stepstones, reaffirming their highlights.

“will you be here everyday?” he asks after a beat of silence. for the second time that morning, you meet his eyes. you knew he was watching intently as you worked on the painting, but only now you’ve seen the curiosity in his eyes. it was almost as if he was… begging?

“y-yes i will, your highness. from the mornings til around 3pm, if i don’t push myself too far that is.” you reply. ricky hums and nods and stands up from his chair. he starts to make his way towards you, and you stand as stiff as a board, unable to meet his gaze.

“well i’ll make sure you don’t. it’s nice meeting you y/n. and please, just call me ricky when it’s just you and i. seems a bit too formal for friends, don’t you think?” ricky almost smirks in your direction. you dumbly blink and make a grave mistake in looking at his face. he was undeniably handsome, gorgeous even. it felt like a crime to look at someone so handsome, yet it also felt criminal to not look aw—

“r-right! yes, your hi— i mean… ricky…” the name felt foreign on your lips, but it made the crown price visibly relax his shoulders, like he was nervous.

“all the best, y/n. look after yourself okay? take a break when you need. the painting doesn’t need to be up right away, now that i know where it is and who’s taking care of it.” he smiles as he walks to the door. you say your goodbyes, and the door shuts behind him.

the crown prince was always a mystery to you, yet now after knowing him, he seemed to be a much bigger one now.

——

as promised, ricky was sat for lunch at the patio in between the courtyard and the garden. he sat at the head of the table while the other noblemen sat on the edges, all paying attention to the food set in front of them.

the springtime was ricky’s favourite season. the garden was always extra tended to at this time of year, ricky was always told growing up that the flowers were always blooming for him. he believes it still whenever him and his friends dine within the palace’s gardens. it was no different today. to ricky’s right was zhanghao, his first cousin, followed by yujin, the chamberlain’s son. on ricky’s left was gyuvin, the chancery’s son and consequent apprentice, and next to him was jiwoong, the master of the hunt.

ricky stared off into the distance as his found family squabbled about everything and nothing. from where he sat at the table, he has a perfect view of the winding path of the palace garden, littered with yellow tulips and lovely pink roses dedicated to the queen herself. it was the exact angle that the painting he had seen being restored earlier that morning had been of. he remembered you and his giddiness resurfaces as he remembers your eye for detail. he loved his friends and his cousin at the table, though none of them ever had a love for art like he did.

hao stops his squabbling with yujin and notices ricky’s blank yet fond expression staring at the garden.

“you know for someone who lives in the heart of the palace, one would think you’d be sick of this view by now.” hao says before he takes a bite. gyuvin grunts in agreement while jiwoong looks pointedly at ricky.

ricky has an amused smile on his face, “can’t help it. my favourite painting is based on this garden after all. the springtime makes it look extra pretty.”

jiwoong hums, “i was walking near your quarters the other week, i think i know which one you mean.”

“mm, it’s not there at the moment. it’s being restored just before summer truly sets in,” ricky thinks fondly of his interaction with you earlier in the day. “it’ll be back soon, hopefully soon enough.”

yujin speaks after he finishes a mouthful of food. “i hope it’s back soon,” he starts, “don’t need another episode last winter when you thou—“

hao slaps his hand over yujin's mouth before the younger could finish his sentence, "and that we agreed to never speak of that again!" hao had stopped yujin before it gave ricky a reason to tackle the youngest right then and there. gyuvin fails to repress his laugh while jiwoong looks at ricky's sharp stare at the youngest at the table. he couldn't really tell if ricky would rather tackle yujin to the floor or use the knife on his left hand. either way, he knew ricky was annoyed.

jiwoong coughs to diffuse the situation. “hopefully the painting is back soon enough. i wouldn’t want to get used to a big blank on the wall when i walk down the corridor.”

ricky sighs and drinks from his glass, “i’m sure it’ll be back by next week at most.” though he isn’t sure how accurate that really is. in the past year, he’s often so caught up in his duties that missing paintings were back before he even remembered waiting for them.

gyuvin leans back in his seat as he took the last bite of his food, “mhm, you can only trust restoration so much, you can only hope it looks better than before.” ricky looks at him pointedly, confused at how gyuvin of all people could tell the difference between a restored and a non-restored painting.

through it all, ricky bows his head to hide a fond smile as he remembers your love of details just as he did. “this one’s in good hands, maybe it’ll look better than the garden itself.”

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 12

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Word : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Tuesday, November 3; 6:15 AM - Ona and Alexia's room.

I stand straight as a rod beside my bed. Bronze has just entered. I’m glad I haven’t lost my morning routine. I didn’t face any difficulty except that waking up was hard and abrupt due to the alarm. Luckily, my day of rest yesterday helped me recover and find motivation again. The disagreement with Bronze was quickly forgotten. I woke up alone. She had let me sleep while she went back to work. I found out when she returned just before noon to have lunch with Engen and me. She wanted us to eat before the midday bell. At least she spared me the rush hour. After that, she allowed me to stay in her room for the rest of the day as long as I didn't venture out. I promised it wasn’t my intention. I once risked it, and it didn’t end well for me. I just wanted to keep busy with movies, which I did until dinner time. I had to stop to eat with the two instructors, as agreed with Bronze. It was hard to change her mind. I was disappointed to end the day by returning to my room. I enjoyed hiding in her room. It had become my den, isolating me from the world. Needless to say, I was worried about reintegrating with the students. Bronze accompanied me to discreetly help me bring back my things. All it took was stepping into my room for any unease to vanish, thanks to Alexia. She welcomed me like a little whirlwind, not wanting to let go. It seems she eagerly awaited my return. Bronze had kept her updated regularly, but it didn’t stop her from worrying and missing me. Today, I return to the real world. Classes resume at eight. I have a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. I still don’t feel ready to return, but I have no choice. I show no signs of distress and patiently wait for Bronze to finish her inspection. It’s almost strange seeing her so impassive and expressionless again. It wasn’t like that in her room.

You can go.

Alexia doesn’t hesitate to head to the exit. I follow, but Bronze stops me by holding my arm. I turn to face her.

How are you feeling?

Better... No more fever, no nausea. I don't have much muscle pain either... I replied.

So, are you ready?

Uh-huh. I don't have a choice anyway.

Good.

I look at her attentively, squinting slightly. She’s not like usual. I don’t know what’s different, but something seems off. There’s only one way to find out...

So, how’s my work after a week? Is it done properly, Commander? I teased.

The princess finally follows the rules; that’s good, she retorts without a hint of humor.

I frown. That’s not the response I expected. I thought she’d play along. I examine her more closely. Now that I pay attention, her eyes seem swollen. And she has visible dark circles.

Are you okay?

We recently had a discussion about friendship, Batlle. It didn’t end well, so stop trying to be friendly and go eat, she orders.

She’s clearly not herself. It’s been a long time since she called me by my last name. And for such a small matter. It’s not like I asked a personal question. She’s not well, and I can’t do anything about it. I let her go, feeling powerless. I stare at the door for a moment, completely frustrated. She just brushed me off.

Ona, you coming?

I pull myself together at my roommate's call. I expected her to be gone already. Well, whatever. Bronze is right after all. She’s not my friend. It’s not my place to worry about her, even though I do and would have liked to be there for her.

Yeah, sorry. I'm coming, I say, returning her smile.

Our relationship has evolved since she learned I’m a former junkie. I feel I can trust her. I’ve grown attached to her. She seems to feel the same. She keeps saying we need to make up for the lost time of this past week.

What did Bronze want? she asks.

Just checking if everything’s okay, I shrug. She’s just doing her job.

I see.

She smiles at me in a way I can’t quite describe. I don’t dwell on it. I’m eager to get to the cafeteria. I’ll see the others, and my appetite is back. This will be my first breakfast after a long week of abstaining. I intend to savor it. When we reach the table, everyone is happy to see me. They ask if I’m feeling better. It seems no one knows about my withdrawal except Alexia and Leah. Wiegman and the four educators in charge must have covered it up as a flu absence. At least I’m spared the cliché stories about my past and pitying looks. Everything goes well this new morning. I just have a lot of questions about Bronze, who completely ignored me when she passed our table. I hope it’s not my fault. I don’t see what I did wrong, except for that conversation the other night. She didn’t seem resentful yesterday. Amidst all this, time flies. It’s almost time to return to class. We walk through the hallways to our first lesson.

I’ll join you, I tell Alexia. I need to use the restroom.

As you wish, but hurry up. It’s almost time.

Yeah, I’ll be quick.

I leave her to enter the nearest restroom. I need to gather my thoughts for the start of this morning. I first use a stall, then wash my hands. I take the opportunity to splash water on my face. Why am I in such a state over something so minor? I feel weird, like I have a bad premonition. Damn responsible person. She annoys me by making me question so much. I hit the counter in frustration. I wipe my face and leave the restroom. I sigh, seeing the empty hallways. Great, now I’m late. Perfect for a return. I walk slowly and heavily toward my classroom. A few minutes won’t make a difference since I know I won’t be allowed in anyway. When I reach the door, I knock. It opens shortly after.

Miss Batlle makes her grand return and in style, the teacher remarks right away. You start well after more than a week of absence.

Sorry for being late.

Save your pretty words and go to the instructors’ office, will you?

Of course. I know the way! I retorted sarcastically.

What did I say? I wouldn’t be accepted. I reverse course to the office of Bronze and Engen, which I know very well. I had to do archiving with Bronze there on my first day before moving boxes upstairs. I knock on the already open door to announce my presence. It’s a large space where two desks face each other. There are several filing cabinets. Nothing exceptional. There are more than one such room on the first floor. Six to be exact. One for each instructor pair. Naturally, I’m assigned to my responsible person’s. I enter the room, and Engen looks up to greet me. She’s alone, which is strange. Bronze should be here.

Batlle, she calls, surprised. Already on the first day? What brings you here this time?

Late, I grumble, sitting on the chair in front of her desk.

Late? I saw you in the halls earlier. Did I allow you to sit?

Urgent need, I half-lied. I’m not standing until Bronze arrives. Especially since I just got back.

Bronze won’t be here today. I’ll handle you for the day.

What? I blurted out in surprise.

Is that a problem?

Now this is the last straw! She raises her head from her paper, arching an eyebrow. She’s not the problem. It’s Bronze’s absence. It’s a first! She’s never missed a day since I arrived.

Okay, what’s wrong with her? Is it me?

Excuse me? she frowns. What are you talking about?

Why is she absent?

She’s entitled to a day off, isn’t she? Especially after the week she had because of you. And why am I even telling you this? It’s none of your business.

I noticed she wasn’t well this morning...

I lower my head, feeling uneasy under Engen’s scrutiny. I have regrets and don’t even know why. Maybe I spoke too much when I hear her chuckle. I must look ridiculous. I bury my head in my collar, not daring to look at her.

I don’t know which of you two worries more about the other, she murmurs.

What?

Did I hear right? Bronze worries about me? Why would she? She was asking me to keep my distance this morning... So, she talks about me to Engen. This thought warms my heart.

It has nothing to do with you, Batlle. She just has a day off to rest from her week, she explains. Anyway, that’s the end of it. How many hours are you missing due to your refusal?

Two.

Well... she murmurs, thinking. Since she’s absent and she fell behind because of you... You have two hours to sort and alphabetize Bronze’s files, she says, pointing to my responsible person’s desk.

Bronze is more original with punishments.

Stop arguing, Batlle, and get to work.

Just as friendly as Bronze... I sigh and change places, settling into my manager's office chair. Engen looks at me strangely before a sly smile stretches across her lips. She doesn't ask me to move, surprisingly. She continues her work while I focus on the task she assigned me. I don't even know where to start given the number of files scattered on the desk. I don't ask for help and try to do my work without flinching. This place is literally changing me. Just a few days ago, I would never have accepted a punishment without complaining.

Tuesday, November 3; 6:45 PM - Cafeteria

I sit down at my seat, placing my tray on the table. My first instinct is to look at Bronze's table on the educators' side. She wasn't there all day. I know because I was late again this afternoon. Engen had to take care of me. I like her a lot, but Bronze is irreplaceable when it comes to creative punishments. I straighten up in my chair when I finally see her. She's there, at her table, with Engen! We are directly across from each other. It feels like our spots were meant to be. She talks to her colleague without acknowledging me. I hope Engen doesn't say anything. She noticed my remorse because she assured me all day that I had nothing to worry about. I let go, realizing I won't get any sign from her, and try to follow the conversation happening around the table.

"Seriously, it's you?" says Alba.

"You're really in trouble, girl ! They're looking for the culprit, and it looks bad according to the rumors!" adds Lotte.

"I don't care at all," says the one in question, who is none other than Leah.

"What did you do this time?" I ask, getting to the point.

"Oh, nothing very interesting. I just tagged the sign and the walls of the establishment."

"What!?"

"It's not just laps around the field you'll get this time," laughs Alexia. "What are you playing at, seriously? Are you trying to compete with Ona for the number of punishments or what?"

Without thinking, I stand up from my chair under the incomprehensible eyes of my friends. It's my only chance. Too bad if I regret it later. Hopefully, I won't feel bad in the meantime. I walk to the educators' area. I find myself between the two instructors and stare directly into Bronze's eyes. I know Engen is also looking at me, but she's not the one I'm interested in.

"It was me," I blurt out into the void.

"It was you what, Batlle?" Engen intervenes.

"The tags. I did them."

"What the—"

Bronze raised her hand to signal her colleague to be quiet. For the first time since this morning, her eyes land on me. Her green irises pierce through me, giving me goosebumps.

"Really?" she finally asks. "I leave you alone for one day, and you manage to do something like this? Why come forward only now?"

"To take responsibility for my actions. It would be stupid for someone else to face the consequences in my place," I respond confidently.

She looks me up and down. I really don't know if I made the right choice by accusing myself without reason. One thing is certain: it was the only way to get her attention.

"Very well. Go clear your tray," she orders. "I'll deal with you tonight, no matter what state you're in. And you won't even be able to complain tomorrow morning when you wake up."

I manage a smile. My plan worked! My God, it worked! I nod and backtrack to my table. I almost trot with impatience. I'm met with confused looks from everyone at the table.

"What just happened?" asks Alba.

"I pleaded Leah's case by accusing myself."

"What?!" Leah reacts. "But why did you do that? Besides, you're not even really in a state to—"

"Don't worry about it," I cut her off. "Be glad you won't get punished!"

I reassure her ass he knows about my situation regarding the withdrawal. I feel good for a first day, so it should be fine. I think I'm the only person who is eager to get a punishment from Commander Bronze.

"Later, guys."

I go to clear my tray where Bronze is already waiting at the end of the line. I feel her eyes on me the whole time; it's unsettling. Once I'm done, she turns her back to head towards the exit. I follow her without thinking. I take advantage of the silence to observe her. I'm glad to see she has regained her color since this morning. We pass by my room where she orders me to put on sportswear. The commander is back, and I'm almost happy about it. I hurry to change, and we head to the gym. I bite my lip to avoid complaining. I asked for this. It will help me get my muscles working again after lying in bed for a week. Leah will really owe me one for taking the blame for her! We wander through the corridors of the establishment, which are almost unfamiliar to me. I haven't had many sports classes as Bronze often punished me at the same time. We stop in front of a large door that she opens. She pushes me to discover the room. I take a step back, not seeing anything in the darkness. She prevents me from fleeing with an arm around my back and pushes me inside. I'm quickly trapped with her in the room. She turns on the lights to reveal the setting, leaving me speechless. My God, tell me I'm dreaming. We are in the climbing room. What is her goal? I turn to gauge my instructor. She smiles with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. We're starting with this, and then we'll see."

Oh my God... I feel dizzy. I hate climbing. I look at the top. It's really high. There must be at least ten meters of height there!

"What do I have to do?" I ask to be sure.

"It's obvious, Ona. You're going to climb up there," she says, pointing to the top of the wall.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she retorts. "Stop talking to complain, or I'll have worse in store for you later! You'll do the one at the back. I'll belay you."

"Belay me?"

"Yes, I'll hold you with a rope. I could very well let you climb alone, so be glad."

"Bronze... I can't... I'm afraid of heights," I admit.

"Not my problem," she says indifferently. "You should have thought about that before. Here, take this."

My throat tightens when she hands me a harness. She really has no pity. I imitate her and reluctantly put on the harness. We move to the back of the room to reach the last route. Damn... What mess have I gotten myself into this time? I'll never make it. I'm really afraid of heights and not just a little! Just being on a chair already scares me. I inspect the wall in front of me, covered in numerous holds. Just imagining myself up there makes me dizzy. I look to my left to see an insurmountable wall named Bronze.

"Sorry, but I really can't..."

"It's not negotiable, you should know that. Just don't look down and trust me. Come here."

She ties the loop of my harness with the route's rope. She does it with such ease. I can no longer escape. She gives it a sharp tug to check the knot's solidity. I'm starting to panic. Bronze seems so comfortable with any sport, but that's not my case. She finally takes the other end of the rope to attach it to a metal loop she ties to her harness.

"There, we're ready. You can start. I gave you the easiest route. The holds are big and easy to reach. »

I sigh as I face the climbing wall. The last time I climbed was back in high school, and I was far from being any good. I start to climb, using one handhold, then two, then three... and I'm already stuck. I'm less than a meter off the ground, and I don’t know where to put my foot next.

"To the right, Batlle," she directs me.

"That's way too far!"

"Of course not. Use your legs to climb, not just your hands. You’ll never make it otherwise."

"What kind of punishment is this, seriously?" I snap.

"Alright, enough complaining. Climb that damn wall now. We’re not leaving until you reach the top."

And I know she's serious. Bronze likes things to be finished. Especially punishments. There’s never been one that I’ve abandoned halfway. I place my foot on the hold she indicated and muster all my remaining strength.

"See, you can do it when you try."

I continue climbing higher and higher. I had to stop several times after making the mistake of looking down. Bronze had to reassure me and encourage me to keep going. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s definitely late. I struggle to grasp another hold, and finally, I reach the top! I let out a proud yell, which makes Bronze laugh. It’s the first time I’ve succeeded, and it’s all thanks to her. She made sure I didn’t give up. I sigh in relief.

"Can you lower me down now?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'!?"

I wish I could see her face, just to know if she’s joking. Her voice doesn’t sound like she’s joking. Unfortunately, I can't verify it. I cling to the wall, trying not to let go.

"No. I’m not letting you down. Not yet."

"This isn’t funny! I’m really scared and can hardly hold on. Everything hurts!"

"I’ve got you. You’ll stay up there until you explain why you took the blame for something you didn’t do."

"Excuse me!? What makes you think that? I did it!"

"Those tags were done Sunday night, Ona. Last I checked, we spent the evening together. Besides, the drawings look like they were done by a kindergartener. It would be a disgrace for someone who practices art as a hobby. To top it off, we already found out who the culprit was just before dinner."

Damn it! She got me like a rookie. Here I am, stuck against this wall like an idiot. She brings me back to reality.

"So, Ona. Don’t mess with me and tell me the truth!"

I’m literally backed into a corner. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I have no choice, I have to talk. My limbs are giving out, and my head is spinning. I’m trembling all over. I’ll lose my grip soon.

"I wanted to get your attention..."

"Get my attention?" she repeats, surprised. "Why?"

"You ignored me all day, and I noticed you weren’t doing well this morning... I was afraid it was because of me, even though Engen assured me otherwise."

"You can’t be serious, Ona? You got yourself accused of something so serious just to get to me!?"

"It seemed to be working until now..."

"You’re such an idiot!" she says bitterly. "But you’re brave, I’ll give you that. Alright, let go of the holds. I’ll lower you down."

"I can’t."

"Don’t be ridiculous. Let go!"

"I’m scared!"

She sighs as I cling tighter to the wall. I can’t help it; it’s stronger than me.

"Ona, there’s a reason I made you climb up there."

"Oh really?" I sneer bitterly.

"It’s a trust exercise. I need you to trust me, not just in climbing."

"Stupid exercise!"

I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I’m holding back tears that are welling up in my eyes.

"Ona, please, I won’t let you fall, I promise."

My trembling won’t stop. It’s an awful feeling. I close my eyes to fight against myself. I know I can trust her. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I take a deep breath before letting go without thinking. I squeak as I swing back and forth, hitting the wall. She stabilizes me before slowly lowering me down. I force myself to open my eyes to see myself floating in the air. My heart is pounding with fear, but it’s not so bad after all. I’m relieved once my feet touch the ground. I collapse against the wall, trying to regain my composure. Bronze smiles at me and crouches down to untie my knot. She really got me this time. She knew it wasn’t me. She just wanted to corner me to make me talk. She surprises me by placing her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

"You haven’t had any more episodes?"

"No, it was fine today..." I murmur.

"Hmm. Engen told me that you were late. Was that also to get my attention?" she teases.

"The first one wasn’t. Well... not intentionally. The second was to check if you were absent for the day."

She raises an eyebrow before bursting into laughter. It’s a genuine, pleasant laugh. She shakes her head before leaning against the other wall. It’s true it would’ve been smarter to choose the other wall. The climbing wall’s features hurt my back, but I’m too exhausted to move now. I watch her pull her legs up and wrap her arms around them. It’s a very childlike position for her. I savor the silence that follows. I realize I missed her presence today. It doesn’t stop me from feeling stupid for confessing my obsession with her. I watch her stare at an invisible point in front of her, looking completely absent. Several minutes pass before she speaks again.

« Why?"

« What do you mean, « why »? »

« Why did you want to get my attention? » she repeats, finally looking at me intently. « It’s really confusing. Just a week ago, you hated me. »

I lower my head, thinking. She's right. It is confusing given everything I’ve said to her. I don’t even know when my feelings changed. I nervously play with my fingers. Admitting my true feelings would reveal too much. I sigh as I look at the ceiling.

« You’re the only one who cares about me here. Well, no. You’re actually the only one who’s cared about me for years, I correct myself. I appreciate the attention you give me, even if it’s sometimes annoying to have you on my back. I’m sorry for getting so worked up the other night. I felt like everything I thought was wrong and was afraid you’d become cold again like in the beginning . »

« What exactly were you thinking? »

"Well... I thought you were only helping me because you were ordered to. That you were doing it professionally and not because you liked me. »

« Of course, I’m doing it professionally, but not just that, Ona. By accepting Wiegman’s offer, I volunteered to supervise you and enforce the rules. That’s all. The rest is from me. »

I feel remorse now. I lower my head to hide my embarrassment. I’ve been making a fuss over something that doesn’t exist. I suddenly feel really foolish.

« If I really didn’t care about you, I would have let them send you to a rehab center like Wiegman and your mother planned, she adds. I dissuaded them because I trusted you, and I was right to. »

« Thank you…"

« I’m not doing much. »

« Yes, more than you think. »

« Like what, for example? »

« You’re the only one who can stand up to me. You punish me without mercy and manage to make me comply with orders I would never have followed before... You’re also the only one who pushes me to succeed in what I undertake. You show that you trust me, and that reassures me », I conclude.

I’m a real idiot. She wants the best for me, and I keep digging myself deeper. I watch her as she remains silent. She seems lost in thought.

« You have a very contradictory personality, you know? »

« What do you mean? »

« You act like a tough girl who doesn’t care about anything and is afraid of nothing, but after spending time with you... I’ve discovered that you have a serious lack of self-confidence. My punishments have chipped away at your armor. »

I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say since she hit the nail on the head. Bronze is very observant. She just figured out that side of me without me wanting her to. I bite my lip.

« I wanted to thank you for what you did for me this week. »

« It’s normal. »

« I must admit it really pissed me off to see you so down this morning. You don’t hesitate to help me when I have issues, and I can’t even do anything for you. I thought about it so much that I went over every situation from last week, fearing I had done something wrong. »

I need to get this off my chest so she knows how I feel. I felt bad for her. I’m aware that our relationship is evolving, but I hope our attitudes won’t change. I really enjoy annoying her. It’s become my favorite pastime here. It’s fun, and I love that she takes care of me... Even if the punishments aren’t always great.

« I got dumped last night. »

I look at her in disbelief. I don’t know what surprises me more: the fact that she’s confiding something very personal or that she broke the rules. I had already asked her questions about herself, and she had kindly brushed me off.

« The commander dares to break rules? » I reply with humor. « And seriously, did someone actually want you?! »

« Of course they did! » she huffs, hitting me on the shoulder.

« Sorry, »I chuckled. « It was too tempting! »

I managed to get a small laugh out of her. She rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. She really seems affected. I should have noticed this morning.

« He’s just an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. »

« Oh really?" she chuckles, looking at me.

« Absolutely. Even though you’re a super annoying commander... I imagine that outside these walls, you must be a nice person. I got a little glimpse of that this week. »

« I’ll remember those words. »

« Hey! That’s out of the question! I’m trying to cheer you up here! »

I managed to get her to laugh a little more. It’s nice to hear, and it reassures me at the same time.

« You say that, but you don’t even know what happened. For all you know, I could be the worst bitch. »

« Is that so?"

« I don’t think so. Only with you when you annoy me. »

« That’s mean. »

« Realistic. »

I smile at her response. I love having these casual, spontaneous conversations with her. I know it’s short-lived, so I’m enjoying it. As soon as we leave this room, I’ll have to deal with the commander again. She’s too obsessed with the rules to be any different.

« How long were you clean before last weekend? »

I sit up at this question. It seems like we’re in a moment of trust. I turn to face her and let my head rest against the wall. Her eyes are looking at me intently, very interested in my forthcoming answer. She’s taking a risk by asking me to open up... I sigh and play with a strand of my hair.

« I left the rehab center on September 18. One year after I entered. »

« Just a week before you came here? » she’s surprised.

« I guess my mother preferred to send me to this hole at the other end of the country rather than risk seeing me relapse, » I chuckle bitterly.

« I’m glad she did »

« Really? » I frown.  « I could have done without a military school. Just like the rehab, actually. It was really my worst experience. »

« Drugs are just a never-ending spiral once you taste them. I hope you won’t fall back into it. »

« It was just a rough patch, that’s all…"

I murmur this as I pull my knees to my chest. I’m very thoughtful about everything I’ve been through.

« «You complain about school, but if she hadn’t sent you here, I wouldn’t have met this cheeky kid you are. »

« That’s true, » I say with a shy smile. « You’re right. »

We enjoy the calming silence after all these emotions. It’s been a long time since I confided in anyone other than Mapi. She didn’t even have to drag it out of me. Mapi got the full story. She won, as she’s now the only one who knows everything. It’s no wonder she’s my best friend. She’s the only one I trust implicitly. I know she’ll never let me go, or she would have done so already.

« Still, I know about your love life before your first name. »

« In your dreams, I’m not telling you ».

« Why? You’ve already broken many rules tonight. One more or less…"

« You’ll find out sooner or later, but not tonight. You already know more than you should. »

I give up to keep the good mood going. I’m curious to know, but it will have to wait. I’ve tried to find out, but no one knows. It feels like a golden rule, but it seems ridiculous.

« If you don’t tell me, then tell me why such a beautiful girl is still single? »

« I don’t think t— »

« Oh come on », I interrupt. « You can talk about it to someone. And besides, who am I going to tell? I have no friends here. »

« No friends? What about the Putellas sisters or Leah and others? » she lists.

« Well, alright... I might have friends... Actually, I didn’t really want any attachments... I hate relationships; they always end up causing pain. Except Alexia didn’t get that memo... She can be very endearing. »

« We’re not so different after all, » she murmurs.

« Why do you say that? »

« I’ve been criticized for not being present enough and not investing enough in my relationships, she confesses. That weekend I couldn’t come home was the last straw. I’m not good with attachments either. I’m actually more of a feelings handicap who runs away at the first sign of trouble. »

« So I’m to blame."

"What? No, of course not! » she quickly responds. « It was planned that I wouldn’t come home the weekend you returned. Wiegman ordered me to keep an eye on you the whole week. I informed them of my absence well in advance. It was just that things were already bad before, and the news didn’t sit well. It’s in no way your fault, I assure you. »

I am to blame, even if she says otherwise. If she had returned, she might still be in a relationship. Can I be selfish for not wanting things to change? If none of this had happened, we wouldn’t be here sharing private conversations. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I feel comfortable around her. I no longer feel exposed when confiding in her.

« Do you promise that everything we’ve talked about stays between us? » she asks.

« Of course », I promise. « And I’m not the type to break my promises. »

Time continues to pass. I hope it’s not too late. I’m dead tired, though. This first day has really worn me out. To think that just yesterday I spent the entire day in bed.

« I’m going to take you back to your room, she breaks the silence by standing up. You need to rest. »

« Do you work tomorrow? »

"I suppose I have no choice if I want you to behave. You might try to get my attention. »

« Oh, come on, I chuckle. »

I can tell she’ll bring up this story more than once. I accept her hand that helps me up. We put the equipment back in place before leaving our confessional space. Students are still hanging around in the hallways, which means it’s not yet past ten o’clock. Bronze accompanies me to my room, and I’m glad to see that it’s empty.

« Well then... Good night », she says.

« Thanks for everything, Bronze, » I reply softly.

« See you tomorrow, Batlle. »

I smile as she ruffles my hair. I don’t like the gesture, but coming from her, it doesn’t bother me. Once she’s gone, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower and put on my pajamas. I don’t waste any time sliding under the covers afterward. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted from the day, even though it’s better now. It was a special exchange, and I’m glad I’m the only one who knows about it. I get lost in my thoughts, but it doesn’t stop me from falling asleep effortlessly, with a smile on my lips.

[lebbys-world]

Girls Night

Class 1-A Girls + fem!reader; platonic/best friends relationship, fluff, childhood nostalgia, mentions of growing up (thematically), sleepover clichés !!

notes: ive been listening to a lot of those mha youtube playlists recently? and they’ve been getting me in the mood for some fluffy friendship clichés !! wishing my friends would do this kinda stuff with me fr, but we’ll cope thru some self-indulgent fanfiction instead :’)

heres the playlist i was listening to while writing this -> https://youtu.be/C8-H_hBd2rY?si=6Kjg5temq2wCsv_R

You sat in the common room of the dorms, your favorite pair of pj pants adorning your legs.

The commons were currently booming with laughter and music, chatter bouncing from wall to wall.

With UA having finally decided to give you hero students a “rest week,” the class 1-A girls (more specifically, Mina) deemed it essential to have a sleepover at least one of the nights.

So, here you were, embracing the loving chaos around you.

You leaned forward on the couch, reaching with one hand to try and grab your phone, but were yanked back by the invisible girl trying to finish doing your hair.

“Y/N, I told you to SIT. STILL.” Tohru said, poking your back jokingly.

“Fine, fine,” you whined, resuming your position against the couch, a smile forming on your face. “I was just trying to check something real quick-”

“You can check it later!” Mina shouted, “Now's our time to have fun! And we better be enjoying it to the fullest after all that arguing I had to do with Aizawa-sensei!”

Through her shouts, you can see her dancing to the soundtrack you’d all contributed to.

Although everyone wanted to pitch-in with some of their favorites, Kyouka inevitably had the last say in what would make it to the final product.

And, at least to you, she’d done a pretty good job.

The songs blaring were all nostalgia-ridden, upbeat, and reminded you of some distant childhood memory that you couldn't quite recall.

As you watched Mina dance to her heart's content across the room, you thought for a moment that you could almost see a shadow of your younger self dancing along with her to these songs.

Sitting on the ground below you, leaning against the couch, Momo laughed at Mina’s antics while carefully touching up the polish on Ochaco’s nails.

“I’m sure Aizawa-sensei doesn’t mind our little party, as long as we clean up properly in the morning.”

“Maybe we could convince the boys to clean up for us,” you joked.

“No way!” Ochaco giggled back. “I can imagine Bakugo’s screams already.”

You could imagine the blonde busting out his lungs before you even finished asking your question to him,

“Maybe we just don't ask him,” you suggest.

Suddenly the weight on the couch shifted, as Mina plopped down beside you, grabbing a sip of water before adding to the conversation.

“Trust me, I don't think any of those boys will help out voluntarily.”

The topic carried on as you girls debated who, out of the 1-A boys, would be kind enough to help you clean up come morning.

Although some decisions were unanimous, several times a few of you would get into mock-arguments, standing up for your "knowledge" of your peers.

As things between Kyouka and Mina were getting intense over whether or not Kaminari would help, the sweet smell of delicious food suddenly came wafting towards the group.

You looked over at the hall to see Tsu standing there, returning from her earlier escapade to the kitchen.

“I thought we were missing some snacks, so I made what I could. Ribbit.” Tsu chimed, holding a tray filled with an assortment of you girls’ favorite treats.

“TSU- YOU. ARE. THE. BEST!” Tohru squealed, releasing her death grip on your hair.

You saw her onesie race towards the snacks instantaneously , and took that as a sign that your new up-do was likely complete - for now, at least.

With all your mouths full of laughter, messed up song lyrics, and half-eaten snacks, the night carried on until sleep eventually caught up to you all one by one.

As you finally flopped onto the couch, eyes fluttering asleep, you found yourself grateful for the night you'd had.

This is what little-Y/N always dreamt of. Thank you, my best friends.. for making this dream of hers come true.

That night, you went into your night of dreams with a smile on your face, and with a little girl watching you from a distance, smiling and over you from afar.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[cycwrites]

A (Few) Day(s) in the Life - Lingerie

A very overdue second chapter of random glimpses into the lives of my favorite girls.

This was meant to be a short, fade to black ficlet while I tried to remember how to do this words thing. Close enough.

Thank you to everyone who has ever left me a comment on AO3 (I owe so many responses over the last 3 years) or sent me a message on Tumblr, encouraging me to continue after all this time. I’m really hoping to finish a few things next year as I still owe everyone a Staubrey origin and cliffhanger reveal.

For @tiny-maus-boots and @kimmania. I honestly don’t know if I’d be here without your unending support and encouragement in life as well as writing.

And for Rylee, who somehow convinced-slash-hoodwinked me into thinking about the Mitchsen chapter, which in turn reminded me I needed to get this one done first.

Words: 3600ish (aka the 2nd shortest thing I've ever written.)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter 1 (and the whole Nowish Universe) on AO3

Master Post for Tumblr

And just because, the Spotify playlist that helped me write pretty much every Pitch story.

A Pitch Perfect Lifetime

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

~S~

Wednesday, October 11th, 2017

“Is it dumb that I’m nervous?”

Stacie turned to look at Aubrey who very clearly was avoiding looking at her. Which meant she missed the loving smile that Stacie aimed her way.

“Bree.” Aubrey didn’t turn, merely slid another hanger to the side and intently looked at the clothing behind it, which was exactly the same style and color. “There is a list of things you are not, and dumb is definitely on it.” Stacie resumed going through the rack in front of her, deciding this was one of those times that Aubrey needed to pretend they weren’t having a discussion about whatever was bothering her. She knew they’d eventually get to the heart of it. “Were you nervous with Chloe?”

A pause. “No.” Another few seconds filled with the sounds of hangers sliding along metal racks. “Chloe is home.”

“Are you saying Beca’s less?” Stacie grinned even though they still weren’t looking at each other.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Very snooty, very amused but then a longer pause. “But my history with Beca is more…”

“Spicy?” Stacie looked over her shoulder and saw Aubrey’s beautiful smile in profile.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Aubrey agreed wryly. “But that’s not quite what I meant.”

Stacie looked around them and lowered her voice even though there was no one else near them in the shop. “You guys have been alone before.”

“Not like this, no. Not since…” Aubrey’s voice was even quieter and Stacie had to strain a little to hear it. “You and or Chloe have always been in the house or within minutes of getting home.”

“Really?” Stacie turned and rested one elbow on the rack. “I’d have sworn…” She thought for a minute, watching Aubrey’s hands as they ran down lacy fabric. Their movements were graceful but precise. Controlled.

Chloe had a convention she wanted to attend the following week and it was Stacie’s turn to go with her, leaving Aubrey and Beca at home to hold down the fort. It was something they had done many times before, but it was the first time since beginning their new shared life together.

The nerves were making a kind of sense now, Stacie mused, reaching out to run her hand down Aubrey’s back before moving past her to another rack of lingerie. She didn’t know yet what exactly was going on in her beautiful wife’s head, but since Aubrey was at least dancing around the subject, it hopefully wouldn’t be too long before she could help work through it.

Briefly she wondered if Beca was nervous before deciding that of course she was. The two women were far more alike than either of them usually admitted to. In fact, she’d almost be willing to place a large sum of money that whatever was setting off Aubrey’s nerves was at least partially in Beca’s mind as well.

“Bree?” Stacie waited until Aubrey turned and held up a random negligee. “What about this one?”

“Hmm?” She turned, eyed it narrowly from top to bottom and pursed her lips before giving a single dismissive shake of her head “No.”

As she turned away, Stacie sighed and hung it back up before moving to stand next to Aubrey and flip through the same rack, though she wasn’t paying any attention to the clothing in front of them. “Are you turning your nose up at everything in every store we’ve stopped at today because you can’t find anything you think will make a good impression on the woman who already loves you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Another precise sliding of hangers from right to left.

“You’re using your high voice, Bree.” Stacie nudged her gently with her elbow. “The denial tone doesn’t work on me anymore.” She’d used to think it was just haughty and dismissive – and okay, sometimes it was – but now she knew that it usually hid uncertainty and a need to look in control when Aubrey felt anything but. “You could wear the Bella uniform and she’d still think you’re one of the three hottest women she’s ever seen. She’d be dying to rip it off you.”

Aubrey snorted. “That last is true – mostly because of the PTSD it would cause.”

“Ooh, yeah. That’s probably true.” She waited a moment, trying to figure out the best way to help. “It’s true though. She loves you and when I asked if you wanted to pick up matching lingerie, I didn’t mean to make you think you needed to dress up.”

“No, I know.” Aubrey glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “And I know I don’t, but…” She bit her lip in a very Chloe manner that made Stacie smile. “I want to make it special.”

“The fact that you exist makes every day special, love.” She leaned over and kissed Aubrey’s cheek. “For all of us. What’s really going on?”

With a sigh, Aubrey finally turned to face her, sheepishly meeting her eyes. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What do you mean?” Stacie’s brow furrowed.  

She wondered if there was something else she was missing, having obviously not realized that the two women had never been fully alone together before. Sure, she and Chloe hadn’t yet either – a circumstance they were happily changing next weekend as well – but that was more random luck than anything. She knew how they all felt, knew them better than herself some days, and it had never occurred to her that any of them would be hesitant. Not with how much they loved and trusted each other.

Then again, she reminded herself, they were only three months into their new phase of life. A fact that she found hard to accept since it felt like they had been together for years this way. Plus, Aubrey and Beca were built a little different. More prone to listen to their darker fears even knowing they shouldn’t. Not anymore. And now that Stacie was thinking about it that way, things started falling into place.

“I wasn’t nervous with Chloe because she’s been my home for years. But with Beca…” Aubrey continued, looking down and then back up through lowered brows. “I worry she… It’s just that, the first year I was so terrible.”

“Aubrey.” Stacie very much wanted to reach out and hold her but didn’t think it was the place even if it was the damn time. “You’re both so far past that –”

“Rationally I know that!” Aubrey raised her hands in frustration but kept her voice low. “Or tell myself I do.” She signed softly, shoulders slumping. “But does she know?”

It was said so plaintively that Stacie pulled her into a hug, potential audiences be damned. “Know what, love?”

“That she’s as necessary to my continued existence as you and Chloe.” Aubrey pressed her face into Stacie’s shoulder, the words muffled but the worry coming through loud and clear.

Stacie thought about the way Beca would sometimes watch Aubrey in their quiet moments – while one or the other was working quietly on a laptop on the couch; when Aubrey was taking pictures of her garden, trying out her artistic angles while sober – her eyes so filled with peace and love… Chloe had confided to Stacie that on at least one occasion she’d had to make up some excuse and leave the room because it had moved her to tears.

“Oh… I’m very certain she knows.” Stacie kissed the side of her head. “But I’m definitely behind Project Woo Her if that’s what you want. I will never say no to looking at all these sexy outfits and picturing you in them.” She leaned down and whispered in Aubrey’s ear. “And to imagine Beca slowly removing them from you.” There was nothing more beautiful in Stacie’s mind than the image of any of them being together.

With a laugh, Aubrey stepped back, her smile genuine and more than a touch wicked. “Don’t think you’re going wind me up and lure me into the dressing room, lover.”

Relieved at the teasing, Stacie lifted her chin at the challenge. “Don’t think I’m ever going to give up trying.” She turned Aubrey around and patted her on the ass. “Now, let’s find you something that’ll make Beca’s legs weak before you even lay one silken fingertip on her skin.” Aubrey flashed a wink over her shoulder and Stacie felt some of the tension drain from her. It was likely only temporary, but she’d just do her best to draw the rest of it out or, at the least, keep Aubrey distracted for the next week.

In part she supposed that’s why she had made the suggestion that they go shopping for the non-boring sleepwear that Beca said they should bring over. Both because she wanted to reaffirm, once again, that this was all okay and she was one million percent behind this amazing new life they were making as a foursome. But also, that she expected Aubrey and Beca to enjoy any and all of their moments alone just as Aubrey was encouraging Stacie to do with Chloe. Sure, it might be a little strange to just be two bodies instead of three or four, but they all knew each other inside and out – puns absolutely intended – and she couldn’t imagine it feeling awkward for any of them.

It certainly hadn’t phased Aubrey just a few weeks earlier when she and Chloe had finally realized what had been growing between them for years.

Then again, the rest of them didn’t have the contentious history that Beca and Aubrey did, and the last thing she wanted to do was dismiss Aubrey’s worries and make her feel worse about them. Maybe she’d just have to have a talk with Chloe to see if there was matching nerves and anxiety at the Beale-Mitchell household and see what they could do to help their partners relax. She smirked to herself as she continued that thought and realized that even if she and Chlo failed, once the other two were past the first few minutes they would help each other relax just fine. Repeatedly.

After a couple more minutes of perusing, holding up various outfits up to each other and dismissing them, Stacie pulled a white bustier and panty set and held them up. It was satin and lace, zipped down the center and it was solid with none of the peek-a-boo cutouts that she normally bought. Simple and yet it called to her to try it on.

“Hey Bree? I’m going to go try this one.”

“Oh?” Aubrey turned and Stacie held it behind her back. “Seriously?” She pouted and Stacie laughed.

“You’ll see soon enough.” The pout deepened and she relented. “I won’t make you wait until we’re home – you’ll get to decide if we buy it or not.”

“Oooh, I’m in charge today?” Aubrey’s eyebrows rose in delight.

“For now.” As Aubrey laughed behind her, Stacie made her way to the fitting rooms and found most of them unoccupied. Taking the one against the left wall, she locked the door behind her and quickly stripped, knowing that Aubrey would be drifting closer as she looked for the perfect outfit.

The straps over the shoulder were adjustable and fit comfortably and when she zipped the top closed, it wasn’t constrictive. The front of the bustier came down to points that would pair perfectly with nylons and garter straps if one were so inclined.

Each room had tri-fold mirror on one wall so shoppers could get a better idea of how everything looked from all angles and after a couple minutes of turning this way and that, Stacie decided she approved. She’d also decided that Aubrey would look utterly fucking delicious in this same outfit in black and definitely with nylons. Satisfied with how it fit her, she opened the door and found Aubrey only a little way away, holding up another bustier and panty set that was all silk, lace and almost matched the color of Chloe’s eyes.

“We’re definitely going to have to get that one for her,” Stacie said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah?” Aubrey tilted her head as she eyed the outfit. “I think so too.” She finally turned her head and toward the dressing rooms. “I thi –” She stopped mid word, her eyes widening and her hands going slack, suddenly nerveless fingers losing their grip on the hanger and letting it fall to the ground, utterly forgotten.

It immediately brought to mind the night she’d proposed; Aubrey had reflexively dropped the rib that she’d been eating when Stacie had brought out the ring. It almost shamed her to admit it, but her ego purred under the immediate desire that lit Aubrey’s face, even as she marveled that this beautiful and complex woman was hers to love forever.

Then Aubrey was moving, a not-quite-casual swift power walk that bordered on a charge. Stacie was unprepared as her wife pushed her back into the fitting room, closing the door behind them. Stacie started laughing as Aubrey’s hands began to run over her hips and thighs; the amusement at the best reaction she had ever gotten in public from Aubrey filtering the slow building sizzle as the touches burned with serious intent.

“Bree?” The chuckles still bubbled up but they were followed quickly by the urge to moan as Aubrey’s fingertips dipped just under the edge of the panties and slid back and forth.

“Can you be quiet?” Aubrey’s lips were busy pressing kisses to her exposed upper chest and Stacie took an involuntary deep breath, lifting herself closer and it was Aubrey’s turn to chuckle against her skin.

“Me?” Stacie found herself in the unfamiliar position of having her mind short circuit and having to sprint to catch up with her normally restrained in public spouse. “You’re the loud one.”

Aubrey’s head snapped up, indignant. “I am not!” To her credit, it was whispered and not shouted like it usually was at home. The corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s Beca.” She slowly backed Stacie up until she was against the wall.

“Oh, right.” Stacie licked her lips as Aubrey’s hands resumed their wandering over her body. She flicked a look at the door and was grateful to see that even in her rush to get them in the room, Aubrey had locked it behind them. “You’re going to get us kicked out of here before we can buy these, aren’t you?”

“Not if we’re quiet.” She paused, just the slightest bit, giving Stacie the opportunity to stop things before they got too far.

As if.

“Well, I did say you’re in charge…”

With a familiar wicked glint in her eyes, Aubrey’s fingertips once again dipped under the edge of the panties but this time she pushed, her palms skimming down and taking the fabric with them until they fell to the floor. Her nails ran back up the outside of Stacie’s thighs and up her sides to trace the edge of the bustier, tickling as they barely grazed her skin. “God, you look amazing, Stacie.” She flattened her hands and ran them over Stacie’s breasts to her stomach, curving them around her ribs before retracing her steps. “You feel so good.”

It was unspoken that they would need to be quick as well as quiet. There had only been a handful of times that Stacie had been able to coax Aubrey into anything even half as risky and all of them had been at night and most with alcohol. She knew without being told that if she hadn’t come before Aubrey reached whatever timer she had going on in her head, Stacie would have to wait until they got home.

Aubrey’s fingers were on the zipper of the bustier and Stacie could tell she wanted to do it slow, teasingly, but they just didn’t have that sort of time. She pulled normally, as if this were any normal trying on of outfits, but the second Stacie’s breasts were free, her lips covered one nipple and sucked lightly.

Stacie’s head rebounded lightly off the wall as she jerked in pure reaction and she winced at the small thump, hoping it didn’t carry. She tried to say something, anything, to keep anyone from asking if she was okay, but even a simple “Oops” wouldn’t pass her lips when Aubrey’s hand slid down and cupped her center.

“I think that one looks great, Stace.” Aubrey’s voice was shockingly even for someone who’s lips brushed Stacie’s nipple as she spoke for the benefit of an audience that might not even exist. “Try the other one.” As if her middle finger wasn’t slightly stroking Stacie’s clit in all the right ways to make her whimper even though that was definitely not in today’s rules.

‘Let’s hear it for Posen control,’ she thought giddily, her legs parting to give Aubrey a little more room. But even as she really hoped Aubrey didn’t expect her to answer, she looked down and saw Aubrey’s eyebrow lift in challenge.

Goddamnit.

She licked lips suddenly gone dry and took a deep breath. “Sure, Bree.” She was rewarded by Aubrey’s mouth on her breast once more, tongue swirling to match the motions of her middle finger.

Stacie could already tell it wasn’t going to take long, the sheer fact of Aubrey – her unbelievably sexy but usually-proper-in-public wife – taking her in broad goddamned daylight, even if they were in a locked room, was enough to throw her halfway to orgasm; she could hear people talking in other rooms for fucks sake and Aubrey was still touching her and showing no signs of stopping.

With an ease brought about only by familiarity and deep trust, it didn’t take long for Aubrey to have Stacie wet and writhing against her. She swallowed the gasp as those long, skillful fingers filled her in a way guaranteed to reduce her to a trembling mess in their bed. Except she was plastered to a wall and had to lock her knees to keep herself upright as Aubrey took her in complete silence, their eyes locked together.

She would have thought it was the images of them in the mirrors that surrounded them that would have done it, but it was Aubrey’s gaze softening from wicked determination to sensual devotion – a distinction and emotion Stacie had never known before Aubrey – that pushed Stacie to the peak. She reached down with her hand and gripped Aubrey’s wrist, pulling up until Aubrey understood what she was after and thrust deep within, her palm tight to the curve of Stacie’s body; letting her set the pace and take what she needed. Her eyes closing involuntarily, Stacie rolled her hips, rising and falling, chasing her release until Aubrey leaned forward and raised ever so slightly on her tiptoes to whisper in Stacie’s ear.

“Come for me, mon Soleil.”

Her body surrendered instantaneously. She pulled harder on Aubrey’s wrist, her hips driving downward in rocking spasms as she rode Aubrey’s touch. Eventually her body slowed and she realized she had no idea how much time had gone by, though she was very aware she didn’t have enough time to sink into the blissful lassitude spreading through her muscles in the aftermath. They had to pull themselves together – or apart as the case may be – and clean up. There was also no way they were leaving without buying the garments that had been so gleefully stripped from her.

In several variations.

Leaning against the wall, she kept her eyes closed for another few moments, enjoying the languor before she had to hustle back into her clothes. Except she heard another zipper and looked around to find Aubrey digging into her purse one handed. She couldn’t help it; she started laughing as Aubrey pulled out a pack of wet wipes.

“Always prepared, aren’t you, love?” Just one of the legion of reasons she had fallen in love.

Despite the hint of rose in her cheeks, Aubrey handed over several. “Never know when they might come in handy.” In a lower aside, she half muttered, “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to go walking through the shop with you all over my hand.” A pause. “You’re definitely going to go pay and I’ll meet you in the car.”

Stacie merely smiled. “’Kay.”

It didn’t take long to clean themselves up and for Stacie to get dressed. When Aubrey left the room, power walking like a champ, Stacie took another moment to rearrange the outfit on the hanger and hopefully make it less obvious the room had been very occupied.

When she went back to the rack, she kept an unobtrusive eye on other shoppers but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to her. Deciding to stop worrying about it, she picked up the same outfit in black in Aubrey’s size, as well as a red outfit of similar design that caught her eye. It took only another moment to find the blue lingerie Aubrey had been holding and bring all four outfits up to the counter.

Finishing the transaction without the cashier giving her any sort of knowing look, she pushed her way through the door and out into the bright sun, wishing she’d brought her sunglasses with her. Lengthening her stride, she headed down the block to where they’d parked the car, anticipation singing through her veins like champagne. She couldn’t wait to get Aubrey home and in bed to return the gift she’d just been given…

And maybe later they’d invite Beca and Chloe over and see who was louder once and for all.

[sourskywalker]

Mrs Darth Vader - part 8; A wedding fit for an Empress

Relationship; Darth Vader x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: Newly appointed Emperor Vader, has been hassled about getting married and producing an heir. Whilst having a meeting with Admiral Piett he meets his second in command’s daughter, Y/n.

Series Warnings: Age difference, forced marriage, eating disorders, postpartum depression, suicide attempt, toxic relationship, smut, angst, pregnancy, darth vader is not only a massive creep but also an asshole, referenced suicide

Chapter Warning: N/A

Chapter Summary: The moment Y/n has been dreading; The wedding

(GIF in no way correlates to the readers skin tone)

“This is ridiculous, could I not have been allowed an extra half hour of sleep?” You stare unamused towards your tutor, who simply shrugged their shoulders and resumed their explanation “You’ve been practically hammering into my head how the ceremony is going to occur, do I really need to hear it once more?”

“Miss Piett..” The tutor sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose “In just a few short hours you will be married to the most powerful man in the Galaxy, and not only that, but you will become the most powerful woman in the Galaxy…I will continue to explain up until you are about to step into the carriage” You shook your head, knowing there was no point in arguing “Now…After your vows have taken place you will….” You chose to ignore what they were saying, instead opting to look at each portrait you passed “Oh maker would you look at the time! You’re meant to be in the dressing room”

With an internal groan you followed your tutor down the long corridors, occasionally catching a few cuss words escaping their pursed lips as they made their way towards your bridal suite. You’d been dreading this since the moment you woke up, knowing that by the time you entered the double doors there was definitely no getting out of this mess. “…We are on a tight schedule…” The tutor mutters, fingers resting on their chin as they seem deep in thought “Wedding is in the late afternoon, no afterparty as they both leave for Naboo straight away where the consummation is to occur…” You only heard tidbits of what was being uttered, though the thought of consummating your marriage with Vader loomed over you like a dark cloud

“Miss Piett?” A maid asks, stepping behind you and looking at you “Are you alright?” You blink a few times, turning to face her and giving her a soft wavering smile

“Yes..” Looking back towards the mirror, you cringe inwardly at the sight before you. When you thought of your surprise wedding dress, you never imagined a frumpy pile of fabric practically drowning you, the lace cuff sleeve rubbed against your skin uncomfortably with each small movement, and the puffs that lay on your shoulders caused the fabric to cling to your sweating skin “I’m fine” You blinked back tears

This didn’t look like a wedding dress, this was something only dolls wore.

“Careful!” The tailor snapped, eyeing your movements like a hawk “You nearly stepped on the train” You quickly turned to look behind you, and sure enough there was a train, at least thirty feet of fabric bunched behind you

“Miss, hold still” A cold hand pressed against your chin as they continued to apply a bit of rouge to your cheeks and then moved on to applying a sticky gloss to your lips “Almost done..” She mutters to herself “There” She smiles, taking a step away from you to admire her work “You look beautiful”

You turned to the mirror, holding back a look of disappointment at what you saw before you; This- this girl wasn’t you, this girl is a future empress, you are not a future empress, you’re meant to be out there in the world, acting, hanging out with what little friends you had, going out and getting blackout drunk because that is what nineteen year olds are doing these days, people these days aren’t getting married to someone old enough to be their parent and ruling a galaxy.

Where had you gone wrong..?

“Miss Piett?” A young boy, around your age, peeks his head around the corner, he stares for a moment or two before the tailor gets annoyed and clears their throat and breaks him from his trance “Oh! Uhm, Miss Piett, the carriage is ready” He steps forward, giving you a small and awkward bow before rushing off

“Miss” Alicgil steps behind you with a velvet pillow resting on the palm of her hand, she plucks the tiara from its spot and gently places it atop your head, she put the pillow aside and her hands come to rest against your shoulder comfortingly, she looks forward into the mirror “Everything will be okay” But the uneasiness in her expression said anything but and you sighed, holding her hand on your shoulder for a moment before brushing past her

“Wait a minute!” You turn to look at the tailor who steps forward and brandishes a veil “You cannot leave without this” They click their fingers and a few maids move towards you, placing the veil on top of your head and then shoving a bouquet of flowers into your gloved grasp, they step away from you, eyeing you for a moment and then nod to themself “You are ready”

You turn back to the door, taking a deep breath as you slowly start to walk forward, your eyes planted on the ground so as not to embarrass yourself by tripping over.

You watched from the safety of the carriage, eyes widening at the amount of people who stood behind the barricades, waving and chattering excitedly as they caught a brief glimpse of you as the carriage continued towards its destination. A nudge in the ribs from your father and a nod towards the crowd had you waving your hand and putting the brightest smile on “This is your wedding day, Y/n. Do not disappoint me.” He whispered into your ear, your eye twitched slightly but the small movement went unnoticed by Firmus

The tiara placed on your so-called immaculate hairstyle had never felt more heavier as the carriage gradually slowed until it stopped and the door flung open. Flashes from cameras evaded your senses as Firmus climbed out of the carriage first and then extended a hand to help you out

“Thank you. Firmus” You clutched his hand tightly as you clambered out, you stared at him coldly and he shifted uncomfortably but then you plastered on a wide smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you turned towards the red carpeted stairs that led towards the double door, you smiled and waved to the people standing behind the barricades

Firmus slowly led you through the double doors and down the aisle. If it didn’t feel like you were being led to your doom you would’ve been impressed by how beautiful the venue was. But the thought was squashed when you looked up and realised Vader was standing at the end, he had yet to turn and look at you, but you knew he could sense your presence as his mask tilted slightly before turning back

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Firmus guided your hand into Vaders who took yours gently

Too gently.

The whole wedding droned on and you felt yourself near to falling asleep a couple of times, but the gentle grip Vader had on your hand would tighten slightly to keep you grounded.

“Kneel, my wife” Vader spoke, he leaned slightly helping you get comfortable on the carpet as he turned away momentarily before returning with a beautifully intricate gold and sapphire crown resting on his palms “Under the gaze of the maker I crown you; Y/n, Empress of the Skyriver Galaxy. May the force be with you” He placed the crown on your head and an eruption of cheers reverberated throughout the venue as people stood from their respective seats and applauded the newly married couple

TAGLIST: @mariamyousef702

[likecastle]

Prompt “oh shit” “ I told you not to touch it!”

Thank you, anon! I forgot my own advice from the first one of these and wrote something (kinda) angsty. No serious warnings for this one--just misunderstandings, and some classic Nancy Wheeler passive aggression.

“Oh, shit!” Robin looks on in horror as the precarious stack of books Nancy had so carefully piled on her study carrel comes toppling down. The noise it makes, Robin is fairly certain, can be heard all across the Boston metropolitan area. Possibly she’s just triggered a sonic boom. Heads whip in their direction, and a great round of sanctimonious shushing rises up like a tidal wave.

“Robin!” Nancy hisses. “I told you not to touch that!”

“Well, they do say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” she jokes, trying to cover her chagrin. The look of exasperation on Nancy’s face makes Robin snap her mouth shut and start picking up the fallen books in silence.

Nancy is gathering up heaps of notecards that took the chance to spring free of the plastic box Nancy was storing them in, scattering all the way into the stacks. “Everything’s always a joke with you,” she mutters under her breath.

Robin feels herself flush—kind of impressive, given that she’s already humiliated herself so thoroughly—and dips her head to focus on the books she’s stacking. She’s starting to think coming here was a mistake—not just accompanying Nancy to the library, but coming to visit at all. It’s midterms, after all, and she could have just waited to see Nancy at home over spring break, but her semester ended a few days earlier than Nancy’s, and she’d thought it would be fun to drive back to Hawkins together. Nancy had sounded enthusiastic when Robin pitched the idea of a road trip—at least, Robin had thought she did. But now that Robin’s actually here, it feels like her presence is more of a nuisance than a welcome distraction.

Robin’s been trying to tell herself it’s just exam stress, but it’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that's true. After last night, Robin’s seriously considering just shelling out for a bus ticket back to Hawkins. And now, of course, she’s gone and made things worse.

Once she’s stacked the fallen books back on the desk again—probably not in the right order, but at least they’re not sprawled on the floor—she takes a careful step back and says, “I’m gonna go get a cup of tea from that place we went yesterday. D’you want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Nancy huffs. Then, thinking better of it, “Coffee—”

“—black,” Robin finishes, “I know. Promise you won’t leave before I get back?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, which Robin figures is as much reassurance as she’s going to get.

It doesn’t take her long to make her way out of the library and get in line at the little café around the corner. It’s sort of a relief, actually, to be out in the fresh air, away from the anxious silence of the library and Nancy’s own inexplicable bad mood. If only Robin knew what she’d done wrong—before she caused a massive book avalanche, that is. Nancy’s mood has been sour ever since they left the party last night, and Robin can’t for the life of her figure out why.

She’s trying to decide whether she wants Mystic Mint or Calming Chamomile when someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to find a fresh-faced girl standing behind her. Robin knows they were introduced at the party last night, but she can’t quite recall the girl's name. Rebecca or Regina or Ramona, something like that.

“Robin, right?” the girl says.

“At your service,” Robin says, and then, for some totally unknown reason, she gives a little dramatic twirl of her hand like a Victorian gentleman doffing his cap. No wonder Nancy's so sick of her.

The girl quirks a bemused, almost pitying smile. “How’s Nancy doing this morning?”

“Annoyed at me, mostly,” Robin says, trying to be sanguine about it. “What can I tell you? I’m just really good at getting on Nancy Wheeler’s nerves. It’s a talent, honestly. I should put it on my resume.”

The girl—Renata? Romilda?—laughs incredulously. “I mean, I’d be pissed, too, if my date spent the whole night talking to someone else.”

Everything around Robin goes silent. All she can hear is the ringing in her ears. “Uh—what?” she croaks.

Roberta-or-Roxanna says is saying something, but Robin isn’t listening. It feels like that single word has replaced the sound of her pulse in her ears—date date date. Is that what last night was? Is that why Nancy was so weird about asking if she wanted to go to the party, assuring Robin over and over that they didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to? Is that why she’d worn her dressy shoes, the black ones that pinch her toes?

Now that she thinks of it, the place they had dinner before-hand was a little nicer than she’d expected it to be. And their table had been kind of secluded in the back, with those fancy candles. Maybe that would explain why Nancy had been so irritated when Robin started toasting her breadstick over the open flame.

She thinks back to how Nancy had introduced her to her friends at the party. She hadn’t said, “This is Robin, my friend from home,” or, “Robin and I went to high school together.” She’d just said, “This is Robin,” and Robin remembers thinking how strange it was that all of Nancy’s friends had glanced at each other like they knew exactly what that meant. She’d thought at the time they must have heard some embarrassing stories about her from their time in Hawkins. Only maybe that hadn’t been it at all.

She realizes, absently, that she’s holding up the line. The barista is staring at her, waiting for her to order, and the other people behind her in line are starting to get impatient, and Roseanna-or-Rowena is looking at her like maybe she’s left the planet.

“I’ve gotta go,” Robin says, to nobody in particular, before peeling out of the line and running out of the café without a second look back.

[malice-death]

Murder Drones College/Human au Pt.3

The Cafe Setup/Strangers Meet.

Nathaniel enjoyed many things about his job at JcJenson’s (In Spaaace) Cafe.

He started working over two years ago, and hadn’t found any reason to leave.

Truth be told though, the cafe isn’t really on campus per-say, but since it was so close to Copper Nine University, located within the city of Copper 9, people just say it’s the campus’s cafe.

On the more important parts he worked hard to maintain a great record at his job, and he hoped to one day admit to his crush about his feelings.

Still he parked in the back, and got, while rain started to pour.

Having given his only umbrella to Cynthia, he just ran to the back door, since it lead to the locker room.

Once he inside he could hear the infamous arguing of J and V in the front, as he traded his jacket for his apron in his locker.

Walking to the front, he found J and V at their respective locations in the cafe, and hollering at each other.

Customers came and went, as they did orders, and while almost always Nathaniel ran the cash register with V.

Vanessa Cutters, was his long term childhood friend, who he had a crush on since forever, but has never done much about his feelings.

Humming along to the song that was playing, he turned his head towards V.

“Crazy weather today, am I right?”

V regarded him through squinted eyes, before shrugging.

“I guess, it didn’t really start until now though.”

Chuckling nervously Nathaniel rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah you’re right. Hey do you happen to have a spare umbrella?”

V shook her head as she prepared another order.

“No, I happen to have left my spare back at my lodgings. Have you checked with J to see if you could borrow one of her several umbrellas?”

Jessica whipped her head around at the statement, stopping her assault on the older coffee machine.

“No one has earned the right to even touch my branded umbrellas, you can just suffer in the rain N!”

With a huff she returned to trying to fix the machine. It was a good thing that had two more coffee machines.

Sighing, he hadn’t wanted to get fully soaked, but at least he knew that Cynthia wouldn’t be soaked.

“Thanks anyway guys.”

The doors open to another customer, and he continued on with his work. Chatting with V, as she ranted about the unfairness of college exams.

————————————————————————

It was only when it came time for him to head to his class that he clocked out of work.

Jessica knew he would be back tomorrow like always, and with that he left to get to his class, the only problem was that his building was a hour’s walk from the cafe, but it was still pouring like crazy.

He debated taking his car, but remembered he would need to come back for his stuff from his locker anyway.

Rubbing his chin he took care of a few more orders, with V still working on cleaning up the tables.

It was only when he was wiping down the counters when a new person walked, and it almost seemed like she changed the whole atmosphere of the cafe.

Many patrons only snuck a glance, and than resumed to what they were doing.

The stranger was shorter than him, even shorter than V, but she gave off an aura of danger.

Nathaniel didn’t feel what everyone else was feeling, instead he gave his usual smile, and greeeted her.

“Hello miss, what can I get for you today?”

The woman just shrugged, that even looking at him, as she pulled out her wallet.

“Largest size of black coffee that you have.”

Nathaniel blinked at the statement, typing in the order.

“I’ll make that a large thank you, are you sure you don’t want anything with that miss?”

The woman looked at him, dark amethyst eyes peered up at him puzzlement.

“Yes, I’m quite certain with my order.”

Nathaniel nodded, as he totaled up her order.

“Alright that will be 8.24.”

The woman just pulled out a ten, and passed it to him.

“Keep the change.”

She moved out of the way for the next customer, but J took over for him as he went to make the order.

It had been a while since he made a simple black coffee, but that gave him an idea.

Once he wa done with the order he looked to see where the woman went, only to see her typing away on a laptop at one of the further back tables.

Smiling he walked over to her, and set down the coffee.

The woman muttered a thanks and went back to typing away.

It was only when he took two steps before he heard the annoyed cough of the woman behind.

Turning aroubd to see her glaring at him.

She held up the cup as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why did you put cinnamon in my coffee?”

Nathaniel blinked before remembering what he had done, giving her a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head.

“I had a random thought and wanted to see if it would taste good, I really hadn’t meant to put it in your coffee, but it’s what I drink sometimes when I’m studying.”

The woman frowned at the statement, taking another sip of the coffee.

Nathaniel tilted his head slightly.

“Do you like it?”

The woman shrugged, “Bite me” was all she said in response.

Nathaniel nodded, and than gestured to the window next to her.

“You wouldn’t happen to be staying for the next few hours right?”

The woman raised a single brow, but nodded.

“Yeah, just until the rain lets up, can’t really bike when it’s raining.”

Taking that as an opportunity he sat across from her.

“I’m Nathaniel by the way, but you can call me N if you need something easier to say.”

He gave her a false salute, in response though the woman just nodded, her mouth a thin line.

“I’m Uzi.”

She didn’t offer for a hand shake or anything, so he proceeded.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to use your umbrella?”

The woman, or Uzi just frowned deeper, but before Nathaniel could take back his words, she pulled out a purple umbrella with crows all over it.

She held it out to him, with a stern look.

“I’ll expect this back when the rain’s done.”

With that she placed it on his side of the table. He could sense that she was hesitant to pass the umbrella to him, but he gave her one more salute.

“I Nathaniel Sillious Wolfmoore, promise to return your umbrella the next time we meet in this cafe.”

He placed a hand over his heart to make sure that she knew how serious he was, he glanced at her to see her simply nod.

“I’ll hold you to it.” She said, a trace of a smile one her face.

He counted as a win, and rose to his feet.

“Alright, I’ll see you around Uzi.”

Uzi waved back, more confused if anything.

But with that he left, the rain still pouring endless, and it made Nathaniel glad that his and Cynthia apartment was on the second floor.

When he checked his phone for the time and saw that he was going to be close to being late he hastened his pace, making sure that the umbrella was aloft above him.

Still he’ll remember his promise.

Thank you for reading. See you in part three

[jumpingjollyrancher]

Day 5: Stamp

Alphinaud so often has a quill in hand that Junior assumes most of his actual job with the Scions is scribe work. They’re a group of scholars, so he’s not surprised by the number of them that can read and write neatly; he’s just glad he can do both as well. It also makes sense to make the youngest do the writing. Alphinaud might have his grand ambitions, but he still has to prove himself useful.

Really, Minfilia lets him get away with too much as it is. (Junior will learn later to throw fewer stones from the glass panes of his house.)

In Ishgard, the Scions are lost and there’s hardly anything to be written down about. Junior runs errands for Lord Edmont; Tataru twines her fingers into the threads spun at the Forgotten Knight. Alphinaud…writes.

Junior finds him at the writing desk in the small living area set between their rooms. His writing already covers a page and he’s well past halfway on the second. For a moment, he considers upending the ink over it all. It’s petty, cruel even. Alphinaud is to blame for their being trapped here, but Junior is a very small bit of a bigger person than that.

He’s sure Alphinaud has noticed him standing at the corner of the desk, but he keeps his head down and his hand moving. Junior arches an eyebrow and scans the desk again. Is it a plea bargain he’s scratching out? Will he sell Junior to them for his own name? Junior leans forward and then spots the envelope.

He picks it up and now, Alphinaud looks up at him. “Oh, Xher’a, I didn’t see you come in.”

Junior ignores him, squinting slightly at Alphinaud’s loopy script. Give him the scratchiest handwriting and he can translate it, but this is still neat for all its styling. “Sharlayan,” he reads. “Why a letter to Sharlayan? They don’t give a damn about the rest of us.” He tosses it back on the desk.

Alphinaud shrugs. “I’m not asking for their intervention. It’d be more pointless than my efforts to involve Ishgard in their old alliance.” He runs his fingers along the edge of one of the pages, eyes fixed on his own script. “I’m, ah, updating my parents on things. In a manner of speaking at least. I’d rather they not worry overmuch.”

That makes Junior snort. “Yeah, what is there to worry about?” It’s sharp, pointed, and he can see Alphinaud’s shoulders curl forward. It doesn’t make him feel better, but it sure doesn’t make him feel worse. Still he asks, “What about the other one? Your sister?”

A tired exhale explains nearly as much as the words after. “Alisaie will do as she wishes. So long as no one makes the mistake of thinking she is me, everything will be fine.” Alphinaud adjusts his papers again. “I’ve one for her as well to leave with Lord Haurchefant at Camp Dragonhead. If she passes through, someone will see it to her.”

Junior asked and still only has a grunt for a response. “I’m going to bed,” he says shortly. “Then I’m leaving early to Falcon’s Nest. Tell Tataru to stay out of trouble until I get back.” He turns away, headed for the door to his room.

“Good night, Xher’a.” Alphinaud’s voice is polite, almost friendly. He has yet to stop being so no matter how Junior snaps at him.

His door is half open when he hears Alphinaud resume writing. Junior holds it still and glances back. From here, Alphinaud looks too small for the desk. It’s sized for an adult Elezen and his feet just touch the floor. But he pays it no mind, focused again on his writing. Junior can only wonder just how often he’s done this. And whether or not his parents or his sister ever think to answer.

Alphinaud is outside when he leaves in the morning. He waves Junior off and then hands two stamped envelopes off to the waiting courier.

Maybe Junior will ask if he’s tried to reach anyone in Eorzea when he gets back. Maybe.

[siberat]

“So, what shall I sink my teeth into next? *Scans the table* Ah, how about this juicy coal burger? One can never go wrong with the classics! Just look at that thick patty! *Shows to the camera, then takes a huge bite* MMmm-MMm-MMMM! Tastes delicious! The bun is so fresh, and the pickles give the burger a nice crunchy zest!

*Licks his lips* Well, let’s move on to an ask, sound good? We have another anonymous asking, ‘Have there been others who know about your scrumptious eating escapades?’ *Raises optic ridges* Scrumptious would be an understatement, wouldn’t you agree? Naturally, Rat/chet is aware of my overindulgent tendencies, and to be honest, I have received some double takes. However, I try to limit going overboard. *Licks coal burger juice from fingers* Usually, I won’t consume so much tasty food in one sitting. Oh! *Stuffs another bite of burger in his mouth* Swe/rve tends to bring me mini-cupcakes and treats of the sort, demanding me to tell him which tastes the best. And I give him my honest opinion.

*Shrugs and frowns* Yet, those tasty baked treats never make it on his menu. And you know, I swear one evening, I smelt the loveliest aromas coming from his locked bar. I knew Swe/rve was baking up something good! *Finishes the burger* But the next day, no baked goods were added to the menu. And yes, you can bet that I was first in line when his bar opened! But anyways, I have not maintained a chiseled frame regularly, but the weight gain isn’t overly noticeable all the time. I still want to be able to enjoy my swordsmanship, after all. *Wipes mouth on napkin*

I demolished that coal burger, haven’t I? *Pats belly* Oofff…. My stomach is getting nice and tight already. There’s no decision on what to try next based on this anonymous question: ‘Who is the fastest at finishing a large bottle of Doctor Chunk?’ Supposedly, Rodi/mus claims to be the best chugger of drinks. He said he could drink this whole bottle in under 20 seconds. *Picks up bottle of Soda* I beg to differ. I think I can out-chug him. What do you think? *Winks* Shall I give it a go? Okay… someone time me…*Brings bottle to lips* And go! *Starts chugging*

*Optics open wide, chugging ends* Oh my! *Belches loudly; servo covers mouth in embarrassment* Please excuse me! *Stifles another belch before resuming chugging; however, it doesn’t last long* Oh, my stars, that carbonation burns! I’m almost there! *Shows only one-third of the bottle remaining* I think I can make it! *Continues to chug the drink until finished*

All done! *Belches out a long, noisy burp* Where have my manners gone? *Stomach gurgles* My tummy…*Winces* So much pressure…

*Loud, audible clank is heard* Oh my! *Optics open wide in shock, cheeks flush as his stomach plating busts out and shoots across the room* How embarrassing! I’m busting out all over the place…literally! *Servo’s rub at exposed protomesh belly* However, I feel so much better now. Like, so much more room has become available! *Smirks at camera* So, what was my time? Did I beat Rodi/mus?

*Furrows brows* Thirty-five seconds? Are you sure? I downed that drink quicker than that! *Pouts* Oh well. I guess we’ll have to let our dear captain hold that title. For now, at least. Now, onto our next question and dish. We have two askers, annony and Alcorian, asking the same question, relating to how much I have polished off so far and whether I can finish in one stream. *Clears throat* Being a dedicated individual, I always plan to finish what I start! And how could I resist all this tantalizing food? Take this Cyber-city Onion soup, for example. *Picks up bowl covered in warm, melted cheese and shows camera* Just look at that rich, melted lithium cheese blanketing over a generously sized piece of bread, bathing in a warm broth of caramelized onions. *Stabs spoon into the cheese, scooping broth* Doesn’t this look delightful? One of my favorite types of soups! *Eats spoonful, pulling at the cheese strands to break them off* Hmmm, so good!

Moving on to the next question, and this is a good food question from another Anon: ‘What’s your favorite profile? There are all kinds, of course, like sweet and spicey or savory and salty. Do you have a favorite, or do you like them equally?’ Well, this one is rather hard. The easy answer would be to say I like them all equally. *Grins sheepishly* I suppose it depends on my mood. Sometimes, one craves a salty snack, like some ener-nuts or potassium crisps.

Sweets? *Face scrunches in joy* Who can resist them? I used to chide Rat/chet for his love of those junky, sweet snacks, goading him to eat healthier. Now I’m sure he wishes he never forced me to try one of his favorite little treats-Ka/on dogs. *Smiles, scooping more cheese and soup on spoon* They look like hot dogs, but the bun is chocolate cake, and the ‘hot dog’ is deliciously sweet cream. *Licks lips* By golly, they are so good! What have I been missing out on all my life? *Eats more soup*

And one can never go wrong with those savory foods! I love those dishes that have been slow-cooked for a long time or aged to perfection! *Gives belly a pat* I cannot resist those meals of roasted cyber-chicken, pasta with garlic and olive oil, pies like quiche…*Gives a chef’s kiss* The list goes on!

But my absolute favorite must be spicy. Foods that give a little kick are just amazing! Eating spice triggers heat receptors to activate inside your frame, tricking your sensory net to feel as if you are overheating. In response to that, your processor turns on your cooling systems. So, you don’t taste the heat; you feel the heat. *Slurps some more soup* Get what I am saying? Food that bites back…*Laughs*

There is nothing left of this soup! *Shows empty bowl* That really hit the spot! And do you know what I have been eyeing for the longest time? This loaded potato! Just look at this monster! * Picks up dish* This has been twice baked, making it such a creamy and cheesy masterpiece! * Takes a heaping forkful* Not only that, but the cyber-bacon also gives a nice, salty crunch! Hmmmm So good!

But onto our next question. Anon asks: ‘I know you had a difficult past. Did it take you a while to get comfortable eating such tasty meals, either alone or in front of others? Or were you pretty comfortable from the beginning?’ Well, this is kind of a double-edged sword, if I may say so. Being a street mech, you kind of eat whatever you can get, whenever you can. Sometimes, your meal only consisted of a handful of scraps. *Idly shrugs* Other times, you hit the motherload! And when you can upon a feast, you ate as much as you simply could. Sure, you could try stashing it away for later, but there’s the chance of the food spoiling beyond consumption or others finding it and devouring it on you.

*Sadly, looks down* I mean, I would share with a few mechs; please don’t mistake me for being selfish. But not everyone shared nor cared about taking a starving mech’s food. Kinda had to look out for yourself first. *Stabs more cheesy baked potato* But outside of being homeless…in the beginning, that mentality was still present. Loading up my plate with as food that could fit, finding a seat furthest away from anyone, and scarfing the food down as quickly as possible. *Shakes helm* Wi/ng would hate that. And how I guarded my dish as I ate. Slag, he would yell whenever I’d growl! He claimed I had no reason to behave like that. Looking back, I didn’t. But old habits die hard, yeah? *Stuffs another heaping forkful of food into mouth*

But as far as enjoying eating tasty meals- that was instant. I mean, anything is better than dumpster diving! *Smiles and shrugs* But as far as indulging my joys of being stuffed… generally keep that to the privacy of my own habsuit. *Gives a shy look* I kept this a secret from Rat/chet for a bit, if I may be honest. I feared him seeing this overeating as more of a bad habit, or a new addiction. Or… I know this is going to sound bad… * Bites lower lip* I feared he may not like a, ah…. plusher figured mech. Yeah, I am sure you could imagine his reaction on hearing that! His optics nearly singed holes through my frame as I sat hidden in a corner of my habsuit stuffing my face silly. Rat/chet may join me on occasion, but generally I tend to keep to myself.

*Chuckles* Yeah, a live video feed of this mukbang kinda breaks that secrecy, but being behind a camera is different than in real life. It’s not so much that I am embarrassed, more so that other mechs can simply be rude about things and resort to childish behaviors such as teasing or bullying. *Cheekily grins* Plus, hearing all your encouraging words really helps!

See? *Shows emptied plate* This double-baked goodness has been gobbled up! This meal is quite satisfying so far! *Looks at camera* And what about you guys? Care to share what you have been munching on? What are some of your favorite dishes? Maybe we have similar tastes in some foods, huh?

*Optics scan table* Speaking of tastes…. What should I sample next?

… ……

Still taking on more askes! So, if you have a question for Dr/ift, send it in! You can send multiples. Also, if you wanted to ask as another TF character- just state so! Let’s keep this mukbang going and see if our dear sword/smech can handle all that food infront of him!

[v3lv3tf0x]

Request from anon;

I hope you could write Stu/Sid. It's a very underrated pair in the fandom and I'm not a big fan of the overrated Stu/Billy. My idea is Sid not liking Billy anymore and Stu easily wins her over by being a better boyfriend.

This request is from early October, we're so sorry it took so long to write! We got a little carried away with the buildup on this one, but we hope it lives up to your imagination! 1,985 words.

Sidney felt bad even thinking these things, but she couldn’t help but feel that Billy wasn’t the same anymore. He used to be so warm, supportive, but a few months after her mother’s death, he seemed to pull away. She had initially assumed that he was giving her time to grieve, but when she would ask to hang out or come over, he always had some sort of excuse. They made a little bit of sense in the beginning, but eventually he began to only say things like he was “too tired” or “not in the mood”. She had even tried to use her body as a way to grab his attention, but Billy seemed uninterested. Tatum had come over for a sleepover, and she brought Stu with her. Sidney had invited Billy and he claimed he would try to make it, but she didn’t have her hopes up. The three friends were sitting on Sidney’s couch, watching some horror flick, when Tatum spoke up; “So, where’s Billy?” She asked, popping her gum. Stu perked up, looking over. “Yeah, did you invite him?” “I did,” Sidney sighed. “He said he would try to make it but he didn’t make any promises.” Tatum frowned. “He hasn’t been coming to any of our hangouts. Do you guys even hang out anymore?” “He’s just busy...” Sidney says, rubbing the back of her neck. “I should beat his ass,” Tatum scoffed. “Look, we’ll call him right now and if he doesn’t get over here right now, I say you drop him. He’s been practically ignoring you for months now.” “Maybe...” Sidney shrugged, nearly jumping out of her skin when Stu jumped up, reaching for the phone. “I got it! He won't turn down his best man,” he proclaimed, grinning as he punched in the numbers before holding the phone up to his ear. The girls stayed silent as the phone rang and rang and clicked, indicating Billy had picked up. “Hey! Are you coming to the sleepover? We miss you~.” Stu said, his tone playful. “We’re watching scary movies, c’mon! You have to, we have snacks.” He was silent before speaking once more. “Yes! Hurry up.” The he slammed the phone down. “He’s heading over!” “Of course.” Tatum rolled her eyes. “He should have come when Sid asked.” “It’s alright, at least he’s coming,” Sidney shrugged, smiling sheepishly at Stu. “Thanks, Stu.” “No prob, Sid!” He patted her head, making her blush slightly as he plopped on the couch next to her so they could resume the movie.

Nearly an hour later, Billy pushed his way into Sidney’s house, scaring the shit out of the three huddled on the couch currently watching Nightmare on Elm Street. “What the fuck, Billy! Why didn’t you knock?!” Tatum shouted. Billy just stared at her for a moment before looking at Stu and Sidney. “I’m here, why’re you upset?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. Stu grinned up at him. “Grab some chips and sit, man, we’re almost done with this one.” He gestured to the T.V. screen. “You can pick the next one, too,” Sideny added softly, scooching closer to Stu so Billy has room to sit. Billy nodded once, grabbing a bag of chips and quickly going through the movies before pulling out In the Mouth of Madness and then sitting in between Sidney and Tatum with a loud sigh. Tatum eyed him, glaring. “Jeez, you didn’t have to come, asshole.” She snarked, crossing her arms. Billy ignored her, leaning back, throwing his arm over Sidney’s shoulders, making her jump. “Why’re you so jumpy? Relax.” Billy looked Sidney over once, frowning. She laughed sheepishly, shrugging and turning back to the movie.

Billy was gone by the time everyone else wakes up. “I don’t get his problem, Sid, it’s like someone rammed a huge stick up his ass,” Tatum ranted as she brushed her hair. Stu peeks his head in the doorway. “You think he’s cheating?” He asked, eyes wide, hand over his mouth. Sidney frowned softly. “I hope not.” She stared down at the counter for a second before looking back up at Tatum. “Do you think he is?” “He better fucking not be,” Tatum scoffed. “I’ll kill him.” Sidney smiled. “Well, he’d better watch out, then.” “Don’t worry, Sid, you got us!” Stu marched over, wrapping his arms around Sidney and spinning her around, making her scream. “He’s a dickbag, but I’ll talk to him, yeah?” He added once he set her down.

It didn’t get better. In fact, Sidney could conclude that it had only gotten worse. Even Stu couldn’t get him to come to their hangouts anymore, not that he was really trying at this point. He saw how down Sidney got when Billy was around and simply stopped actually inviting him. Who needed him around, anyways? She seemed happier with him. And Tatum, of course, but that was a given. She was sweeter with him, too. Who needed Billy?

“Sidneyyy~!” Stu called out from the porch, obnoxiously knocking on the door without stopping. “I’m coming, quit!” Sidney shouted, hurrying down the stairs to open the door. “Jeez...” “I brought dip!” Stu thrust it in her face, showing her a tub of queso and a tub of guac. “My mom made ‘em cuz we had family over last night.” “Oh, cool.” Sidney said, dodging to avoid a broken nose. “Just set them on the counter, Tatum should-” The phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. “Come in, I’ll be right back.” She told Stu as she went to answer the phone. “Hello, Prescott-” “Sid! I’m gonna be late, my dad’s pissed about my grades...” Sidney slammed the phone down with a huff. “I’m done with him.” She declared, marching into the kitchen. Stu turned around blinking. “What happened now?” He asked, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of queso, cocking his head to the side. “He’s not coming again because apparently his dad is upset about his grades.” Sidney scoffed. “Bullshit!” Stu shouted. “His dad doesn’t give a fuck about that stuff.” He crossed his arms. “That’s what I’m saying.” Sidney sighed. “Do you think he’s cheating on me...?” “Well,” Stu hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe...?” Sidney was silent for a long moment. “That’s so stupid.” She eventually muttered, wrapping her arms around herself with a frown. Stu shuffled his feet, reaching towards her. “He might not be!” He tried, patting her head. “He’s just an asshole, you know?” “I’m still breaking up with him.” Sidney scowls.

“You really did it?!” Tatum practically screamed in Sidney’s ear on the walk to her house. Sidney winced, ducking her head. “Yeah... I don’t know if he took it well, but he didn’t, like, hit me or anything.” She said sheepishly. “He’d better not!” Tatum scoffed. “Stu’d beat him up, right?” She peeked over Sideny’s head at Stu who was walking on her other side. “Oh. Sure, yeah.” He nodded quickly, grinning. “Sure,” Sidney snorted. “I would!” Stu protested. “Anything for you, Sid~!” He said dramatically, making Sidney blush, rolling her eyes. “Go home, Stu.” She shoved his shoulder.

Stu had to admit it, he was thrilled Sidney had dumped Billy. She deserved so much better. She deserved him. Now he could make his move without it being weird! She already seemed inclined towards him, and how could he resist such a cute face?

“You want to come over again?” Sidney asked, looking puzzled as she pulled books from her locker. “Tatum won’t be there.” She added. “That’s fine!” Stu nodded, smiling. “We can study together.” “Alright.” Sidney shrugged, closing her locker. “I still have some snacks, so I think we’ll be okay in that department.” She said, beginning to walk to her next class. Stu nodded once more before heading to his own class. “See ya!”

“Look, here, see how the three is carried over here?” Sidney said, leaning over Stu’s paper. “Yeah...” He tried to pay attention to what she was saying, honest, but her shoulder was practically touching his. “Really? What am I talking about then?” She deadpanned, sitting up. “The- the math sheet!” Stu said quickly, looking up at her. “Okay, I think we’re done for today.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s been like two hours, anyways. Want something to drink?” “Apple juice?” Stu called as Sidney made her way to the kitchen, trying not to sound disappointed. “Got it,” Sidney called back, rummaging around in the kitchen before coming back out, two cups in hand. She handed one to Stu, who took it and slammed it in three gulps. “Jeez,” Sidney mumbled, sipping at her own cup. “What? It’s good!” Stu leaned back on his hands, cracking his back. “Wanna play a game or something?” Sidney raised a brow. “Don’t your parents expect you home for dinner?” “I guess.” Stu shrugged. “But it’s boring at home.” He added with a pout. “It’s really not. All I have is, like, a deck of cards.” Sidney ducks her head, avoiding eye contact. “We can play war!” Stu straightens out, leaning towards Sidney. “Wanna?” She blushed. “Sure.”

Tatum squealed into the phone, making Sidney jerk it away from her ear. “Really? He likes you?!” “Don’t sound so shocked,” Sidney snorted. “But yeah, haven’t you noticed? He’s all touchy and stuff.” “I did, I just didn’t want to say anything yet! He totally does!” Tatum giggled. “Wow, getting with your ex’s best friend... Sidney, how daring!” “Hey, I’m not- it's not like that!” Sidney said quickly, running a hand through her hair. “He just, like, hangs out at my house all the time...” “Oh, you totally like him back.” Tatum said decisively, causing Sidney to gasp into the microphone. “Hold on-!” She tried to interrupt, but Tatum kept going. “Nuh-uh! I see how you blush around him! Oh, you tramp! What will Billy think of this??” She rambled. “I don’t care what Billy thinks of this.” Sidney scoffed, rolling her eyes. “He made his decision.” “True,” Tatum mused. “So, are you going to tell him?” “What, Stu?!” Sidney balked. “No!” “Why not?! You two’d be so cute together!” Tatum whined. “Well, he should ask me out first.” Sidney says firmly. “Besides, what if I’m, like, imagining things?” “Girl, you are definitely not.” Tatum scoffed. “I’ll drops some hints, okay? You won’t be single for much longer!” “Tatum...”

“Tatum’s being weird,” Stu pointed out, leaning against the locker next to Sidney’s. She sighed. “Really...?” She stared at the book in her locker, trying to play this off. “Really really. Like, keeps telling me how lonely you are and stuff.” Stu snickered, leaning closer. “Well, you know Tatum...” she shrugged, blushing and quickly grabbing her book and slamming her locker shut. “I gotta get to class-” she ducked away quickly, leaving Stu in the dust.

Stu was waiting for her after school regardless. “Hey, Sid!” “Hi,” she mumbled, ducking her head. “Wanna go get ice cream?” He asked, cocking his head. “Yeah, sure.” She nodded, blinking in confusion when Stu held his hand out. “Your backpack,” he said for clarification. “Oh-!” She fumbled to take her backpack off, handing it to him. “Thank you.” Stu just smiled at her as they began to walk. It was short and they ordered, Stu offering to pay for Sidney’s. “So... you like me, huh?” He asked out of the blue, not even looking in Sidney’s direction, nearly making her choke on her ice cream. “Tatum told you?!” She managed to get out, wiping her mouth frantically. Stu snorted loudly, handing her another napkin. “No, but that just confirmed it!” Stu cackled. “It’s okay, I like you, too, Sid.” He patted her head, despite her current actions to hide her face. “Well, you better.” She huffed, earning another easy smile. “So, you’ll be my girlfriend?” He asked, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah.” Sidney looked up, a sheepish smile on her lips.

[cinnamon--bagel]

Hi, me again. I needed to experience some catharsis so I've started writing a PMD Explorers Swap fic. Enjoy.

----------

Marshtomp gulped as she started up the stairs that stood between her and the dreams that had been burning in her heart for years.

Wigglytuff’s Guild stood as a lone bastion atop Treasure Town’s tallest hill. Its tent silhouetted the visage of its Guildmaster against the sky, carving an intimidating figure that could be seen across the coast (even if it did look somewhat juvenile up close). Marshtomp had spent many mornings gazing up at the Guild from the entrance of her cliffside home, lamenting that she lacked the willpower to walk up the stairs and ask for a place in the Guild.

Even if they wouldn’t let her do any missions at first, she wouldn’t mind! They could put her at the front desk, or have her answer mail, or-

She gulped, taking the first step of her monumental journey. This was the closest she had ever been to her dream. Stopping now would be a waste! Yeah! Sunk-cost fallacy!

Before she knew it, she had taken another step. Then another, and another, and-

She turned, looking down at the town that had been her home for the past few months. From this height everything looked… smaller. Emptier.

Granted, many of the tents that made up the homes and shops in Treasure Town had been blown away by the previous night’s storm. From what she had heard, most of the townsfolk had retreated to the underground dojo even as the wind and rain chipped away at its clay-and-bone shell aboveground. 

There hadn’t been any casualties, luckily, but… she had a feeling the dojo would keep being used as a shelter until the townsfolk could get back on their feet. Everyone had come out when the sun rose to put the most important pieces of the town back together - Duskull Bank, Kecleon’s Shop, and Kangaskhan’s Storage - but there was still a lot of work to be done. 

‘Which is why I need to join Wigglytuff’s Guild as soon as possible!’ she reminded herself as she resumed her climb. ‘I’ve been skirting by thanks to the kindness of everyone in town, but I can’t do that when everyone’s working so hard to rebuild! I have to earn my keep!’

And, if it put her closer to her dream of becoming an explorer, who was she to complain? 

That was the last thought in Marshtomp’s head as she reached the summit, faced with two last obstacles before she could cross the threshold of the Guild Tent.

An iron gate and a wooden grate.

“Hmm,” she hummed nervously, clutching her treasured Relic Fragment to her chest. She traced the inscription with a finger as she paced back and forth, spiraling deeper and deeper into her thoughts as the torches crackled menacingly.

‘The gate’s closed, so maybe they’re closed too? It is pretty late, the sun’s setting…’

‘Or, maybe, they keep the gate up all the time so that nobody just wanders in? Maybe it’s to keep criminals out, and I’m not a criminal, so I should be fine!’

‘But it’s almost nighttime, and everybody in the guild spent the day rebuilding Treasure Town… They’re probably tired, I shouldn’t bother them…’

“No!” she declared with finality, spinning on one foot toward the wooden grate. “I’m not putting this off any longer! I’m steeling my nerves and doing-” step, “-this-” step, “today!”

As her foot hit the center of the grate, a bellowing voice erupted below her.

“Pokemon detected! Pokemon detected!”

“Gah!” she squealed, falling backward onto her behind. The Relic Fragment slipped from her grip, bouncing down the path away from the guild. Marshtomp stared back at it and sighed. “I just can’t do it…”

She stumbled to her feet and moved to rescue the fallen stone, gazing into its pattern longingly. “Even after I brought my personal treasure to inspire me, I’m too much of a coward to go in.” She turned back one last time, taking in the sight of the Wigglytuff-shaped tent as it stood tall against the evening sky. “At least I got this far today… Maybe I’ll have more courage tomorrow.” Her head hung low as she retreated back down the stairs, eyes blurred and wet.

As Marshtomp reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused, gazing at the crossroads ahead of her. Her legs moved instinctually, taking her somewhere further away from town.

She couldn’t remember when, or why, she started visiting the beach on bad days. Somehow in the blur of time since moving to Treasure Town, she had gotten in the habit of coming to the solitary beach to watch the tide roll in. It was something she had started doing to reassure herself whenever she was upset that, unfortunately, had become a nearly daily habit. 

Even so…

“Oh wow!” she marveled at the hundreds of bubbles lazily drifting through the air, each one catching the rays of the sinking sun and transforming them into a floating rainbow bouquet. She spent several minutes taking in the sight, breathing in the sea, and listening to the Krabby chatter as they blew bubbles into the wind. ‘It’s good to see the Krabby out and about, considering that crazy storm last night… It’s reassuring, like another reminder that life goes on…’ she mused as her eyes trailed a group of bubbles bouncing into the horizon.

As her spirits lifted, her eyes drifted further inland, snapping to an unexpected patch of green near the opening of Beach Cave. “That’s weird,” she muttered as she waddled over, expecting some debris from the town. 

But as she got closer, it became clear that the mysterious pile was moving.

No… breathing!

“Ahhh! That’s a Pokemon! Someone’s washed up on the sand!” She screamed. ‘What do I do? Should I get someone? I don’t know how to treat injuries or help someone who’s drowning! Except, wait, no, they wouldn’t be breathing if they were drowning-’

A sudden cough forced her back into reality. Marshtomp dashed to the waterlogged Pokemon’s side, abandoning any hesitation as she set down her Relic Fragment and rolled the castaway onto their back. But once she got a good look at them, she froze.

The Pokemon - a Grovyle, she was almost certain - had the most frightening scar she had ever seen. Across their left side, spanning from above their arm to their hip, was an oddly colored patch of skin. It almost reminded her of a burn scar, with its dark color and wavering edges. The natural, though faded, red of their belly contrasted with the dying brown of the scar that curved around to the back, forming a shaky half-circle that seemed to be mirrored on their back. The thought of what could cause the half-moon scar sent shivers down her spine. How long would it even take to recover from an injury like that? 

Either way, it had already healed completely. It probably didn’t have anything to do with whatever caused this Pokemon to wash up on the beach. Marshtomp shook her head, chasing away those chilly fears, and reached out a hand to tap their shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? Can you breathe?”

The Grovyle let out a groan through grit teeth, then sucked in a breath free of any resistance. They pushed themself up, blinking wearily. “Where… where am I?” Grovyle muttered, his voice like the rusted hinges on an old box that fought any sort of movement.

Marshtomp couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as anxiety lifted from her heart. “Thank goodness… You really had me scared there…”  She straightened, putting on her best confident face as she spoke to the newcomer, “This is the beach south of Treasure Town. Do you remember how you ended up unconscious out here?”

Grovyle’s face wrinkled, as if he was thinking deeply about something. As Marshtomp watched his reaction, she couldn’t help but notice several paper-thin scars that dotted the skin unmarred by the grisly scar on his side. They seemed to be far older, given how many had nearly completely faded. As the silence stretched on, Marshtomp began to wonder what kind of person this Grovyle was. Someone who got in a lot of fights or accidents… she hoped he wasn’t a bad Pokemon, especially since more and more Pokemon had been turning to crime recently. Although, she had seen some pretty nasty injuries on Pokemon coming and going to Wigglytuff’s Guild. Maybe he was an explorer!

“I don’t know.”

“Huh?” The sudden comment snapped her back to the present. “You don’t?”

He shuffled a bit, shakily gripping the strap of a bag she had missed in favor of his injuries. “I don’t… remember.” His face, which had already seemed pale, grew more pallid as his eyes darted back and forth frantically. “Washing up on shore, where I came from, nothing. I can’t remember any of it.”

Any suspicion of this Pokemon bled away as his voice grew increasingly desperate. She moved closer, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down-

When a sudden blow from behind knocked her into the castaway, knocking both of them down completely. A pair of unfamiliar voices burst into laughter, one laugh deep and rasping while the other was all shrill cackles. Marshtomp got up quickly so she could help Grovyle to his feet.

After checking to make sure he was unharmed, she turned to shout at the pair of intruders. “Why’d you do that?! Can’t you see that there’s an injured Pokemon here?”

“Heh-heh-heh,” came the high pitched laugh of a Zubat, “Can’t figure it out?” He flitted closer, showing that his legs were wrapped around-

“My Relic Fragment!” Marshtomp exclaimed. She glanced at the spot where she had left, her heart sinking.

The second intruder, a Koffing, chuckled as Zubat darted back to his side, “Whoa-ho-ho! What’s the matter? Are you too scared to come get it back?” 

Marshtomp shook in place as the two began to laugh harder. Tears pricked at her eyes as she wished she had the guts to stand up to the two, but what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t even stand her ground when she tried joining the guild, so there was no way she could do something like fight the two of them by herself. All she could do was watch as the two slinked away into Beach Cave.