#I bought it as a guest and they didn’t ask for my email for a receipt either 😭

[beet1031]

just bought something off Etsy for the first time and like,,, why did no other human being, including the website designers themselves, tell me that the website straight up doesn’t ask for your address and you gotta sort that shit out yourself??? Like holy shit I feel like an idiot for not noticing until after the purchase but also that feels like it straight up shouldn’t be allowed

[painfullymeta]

Warning: I'm Gonna Be Earnest Now

I am deep in my feels right at the moment so I am actually making a post of my own on this, the deep in my feels hellsite.

I am late GenX.  (Not quite what gets called Xennial IMO but definitely in what gets called the Oregon Trail (Micro)Generation.)  And for all you young whippersnappers, you have to understand "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” ( - L. P. Hartley)

I am old enough to remember when AIDS was named GRID.  ("Gay-related immune deficiency.”)  I am old enough to remember ACT-UP, the Reagans’ abandonment, “If I die of AIDS just leave me on the steps of the FDA”, all those things that tired older people on tumblr try to remind people of when the TERFs come around to tell us to stop saying “queer” as if Queer Nation was a goddamn hallucination I had when I was a kid.

On the last day of high school, after the last exam, when none of us would have to ever see each other again if we so chose – that was the day that one of my friends, someone I had eaten lunch near every day since partway through freshman year, said to me “I have something to tell you.  I’m gay.”  And then he followed it up with “Is that okay?”

I hugged him.  He broke my goddamn heart and I hugged him.  "Is that okay," he asked me. Is it okay to be who I am, near you.

I was in college before I met someone who identified herself as a lesbian — and I went to a women’s college until I lost my shit and dropped out, and I expect that if I hadn’t done that I might have gone longer.

(Of course at the same time as I was clueless and not meaningfully connected with any sort of queer culture I somehow wound up with a friendgroup who, if we got bored and couldn’t come up with anything else to do, would watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show together.  This is what we did instead of going to Homecoming.)

By 2000, I was vaguely aware of trans things existing, and in fact met my first trans person while at Brighton Pride that year, though we didn’t really speak (I was there as the guest of some people in his extended social group) and I was vaguely confused and too awkward to try to do more than ‘observe and try not to fuck this up’.  I met a nonbinary person for the first time around then as well, and zie was the only one I knew of for nearly a decade.

By the mid-oughts I was with it enough to ask someone what pronouns she wanted me to use for her before sharing something about her on a message board.

(I am also old enough to have spent time on multiple message boards.  I’m old enough to resent the internet going through the world wide web instead of email and usenet actually.)

Sometime in the early oughts I guess I was at the subcommittee hearing in the Boston State House that was discussing, among other things, whether we might consider possibly condescending to allow same-sex couples to marry.  I was even going to testify!  (Please be impressed with my early twenties autistic ass I was terrified.)  There was a guy there - a senator on the committee - who was asking every person who came up if they were going to force his church to marry the gays.  Catholic, y’know, this being Massachusetts.  I revised my speech in my head to note that if we weren’t forcing the Catholic churches to marry divorcees yet he didn’t need to worry about it.

(Then my nose decided to haemhorrage all over my entire life and I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding so rather than testify while looking like an entire murder victim I went home.)

I was in my thirties when pregnancy-induced dysphoria made me start seriously thinking about my own sense of gender.

I was in my forties before I bought a binder.

I am from another fucking planet.  (The past is a foreign country.)

I know kids - multiple kids - who knew enough to identify as lesbians at an age younger than I think I knew that word.  (And I am one of those humans of freakish and unreasonable vocabulary and always have been.)

I crack jokes with one of my kids about the Queer Kids Stairs at their school, because that’s where the GSA kids hang out together after activities get out.  (While GSAs were around while I was a kid, they started in Massachusetts according to Wikipedia and that is not where I was when I was a kid, and to my best recollection I didn’t hear about them existing at all until I was an adult.)

I live in a world where my social circles include queer people of my generation, of older generations, of younger generations, and oh my gods, I look at the kids and my heart tries to explode.

My oldest knows more than one trans kid.  More than one *affirmed* trans kid.  (And we’ve talked a bit about the social dynamics that might make it more likely for the trans boys to be out than the trans girls, even now.)

And I’m writing this because of one of those trans boys, who is in the Coming of Age group at our church, and who is, apparently, in his credo, citing that thing I’ve seen on the tumblrs more than once, about how being trans means being a participant in the holy, divine process of creation, coming into being as himself.

And guys?

I’m not from the same planet as that kid.

Because I’m in my forties and I don’t even know what I’m creating.  And I’m terrified.

And here’s this kid coming out there with that as a core statement of belief that he’s prepared to stand up in front of, as the phrase goes ‘God and everyone’, to claim.

(I need to remember to talk to him about how in my Craft tradition there’s a canonically transmasc god.)

I know I’ve got at least two teenagers reading me and I just.  Y’all got this.  I know it’s hard and the world is scary and it’s fucking coming for us all but you are amazing and I am so full of inarticulate alexithymic feelings about all of you. The ones I know and the ones I don't.

We've come a long way from "Is that okay?" and you heal my broken heart.

[disastrouscanasta]

well you KNOW imma ask about the darling Punch Up 2: The Wrath of Khan. like i have to. im obsessed truly

Thank you to both blood-mocha-latte and @spinteresting for asking about this one... because it's my favourite, naturally. My brainchild. The thing that keeps me up at night

Basically Punch Up 2: the Spy who Shagged Me is the direct sequel to the first one and it's from Toye's pov because. well. Why not?

Here's a part I cut out because it was wayyyyy too sappy and self indulgent lol (it's roughly 1k so ? ficlet ? add on instalment ? perhaps ? idk)

“When was the last time you were here?” Joe asked, staring at the barren countertops. He pulled the pantry door open and found a few cans of non-perishables. It looked sad, college dorm levels of sad. It pitted something uncomfortable in Joe’s gut.

“Uh.” George’s voice was dulled by the walls as he wandered, searching through his bedroom for his clothes. “Six days?”

Joe couldn’t even remember the last time he’d set foot in George’s apartment. A few months ago, maybe? And it was always for something like this, George forgot something, George needed to pick something up, etc. They didn’t stay over, Joe realised. Less like it dawned on him, more like an answer just bubbling to the surface. Barely an oh.

It was the quiet, almost subdued thought that “they never stayed over.” Better yet, George never stayed over. They were only standing there then because he’d needed an old suit– one that he’d bought for his sister’s wedding a couple years ago, but hadn’t needed since.

(He hadn’t won anything, but he had been invited to some swanky film event anyway. He’d gotten the email, instantly asked “Are we doing anything on Saturday the 15th?” and, once it had proven to be a go, he’d announced that they were going to a dinner/screening shindig. Joe was touched, having been invited without a second thought.)

“Shit.” Joe said. He picked up a can of beans, turned it over in his hand, expecting… something. He wasn’t sure. Maybe the beans would tell him something about this situation.

“What’s the matter?” George came back, standing in the small– tiny, it was tiny– kitchen. He had a dry cleaner's bag in his hand, gripped by the hook of the hanger, he held it high to keep from dragging on the ground.

“I’ve been holding you captive at my place, I think. We can come over here more often.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” George said flippantly. He paused, something of a hitch in his voice that told Joe just enough. “It’s… no biggie.”

“You’re still paying rent.”

“Barely.” George shrugged, “It’s okay. I got this thing sorted with the landlord, I only pay about half for rent, every once in a while his nephew crashes in the guest room, so it’s okay.”

Joe had… well, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d assumed. He’d just gotten used to George around the house, he supposed. George had stuff in his closet, they had divvied up the drawers in the dresser, they did their grocery shopping as a unit–

“We’re here,” Joe said, hoping that he wasn’t crossing some kind of unspoken boundary. They had a few of those. Most of their boundaries were unspoken. That didn’t shape up for much, but it wasn’t Joe’s nature to talk about it. He was an action guy. If he knew not to do something, he simply wouldn’t do it. Contrarily, if he knew what he was doing, he would do it.

They were currently in that kind of situation.

“Why don’t you grab the rest of your stuff, it’ll fit in the car.” Joe finished. It was simple, the world’s shortest olive branch that he extended to George in a show of… well, it was something romantic. Call him cliche, but Joe liked a bit of romance. A gesture.

George liked gestures, his eyes widened, just a bit.

“Jesus fuck.” George said, he slung his drycleaning bag over the countertop, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve been agonising over this for ages.”

“Over what?”

“Over– This! Joe, I’m gonna need you to be real with me for a second. You’re saying I should bring my stuff over to your house, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Permanently?”

“Yes?”

George smiled wide, triumphantly. There was something soft in there too, a quiet joy, an I can’t believe this look that hid behind the boisterous glee. “See, I knew Carwood was wrong.”

“I don’t even want to ask.” Joe was smiling, himself. It was a chain reaction, if George smiled wide enough, Joe’s mouth just kind of followed out of its own volition. Before he noticed what he was doing, he stepped a couple feet closer, just until George was within an arm’s reach.

“You don’t want to know.” George promised. Joe had to wonder if Lipton knew more about Joe’s own life than he did.

“So, what do you say?” Joe prompted.

“Am I gonna bring my stuff over, you mean?” George said, “Of course. You’ve signed the verbal agreement now, buddy. Can’t get rid of me and my DVD collection that fast.”

Joe fought a laugh, which seemed to be enough of an answer for George, who noticed the way Joe’s bottom lip stiffened, and the high point in over his cheekbone tightened. Joe was the Tough Crowd which comedians so often poked fun of– George had told him this. Multiple times.

George closed the short distance, reaching over, tugging Joe down by his t-shirt collar and kissing him. It was simple, closed mouth, and George’s lips were dry, but it did make Joe think, as he kissed back, looping his arm around George’s waist absently.

They’d shared a fair amount of kisses in Joe’s kitchen, but never this one– Well, maybe once or twice. It felt different, somehow. Different venue, sure, but there was a difference, Joe just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then, George slid a hand up the front of Joe’s t-shirt, touching his skin directly. It sent a jolt of energy up Joe’s spine. There was a tinge of risk to it. It struck Joe– a sudden, startling realisation, this time– that the room they stood in wasn’t their kitchen. It wasn’t the one with George’s ridiculous pun mugs, or the spatula head that broke off from the rest of its body each time George used it, though they’d never gotten around to replacing it. Joe hadn’t cut his thumb open while cutting carrots for a potluck on this countertop.

This was merely a place that George rented, but it wasn’t where they lived.

“You should go get your DVDs together.” Joe said, drawing back. “We can come around some other time with Bill’s truck to get everything else.”

“You have your priorities straight.” George said, laughing. “God, this makes it so much easier to show you shit movies. I dibs the TV tonight. Austin Powers marathon, you can do it, I believe in you.”

“Anything you want.” Joe replied. He forgot to sound sarcastic, instead, the words were drenched in just about as much fondness as George’s bright eyes held, then.

***

Thank you guys !!!

[loiswolf]

Day 5 May 28 Gakona - Grizzly Lake 79kms

Yesterday afternoon I spent an enjoyable 90 minutes or more talking to my hosts Mel and Jerry while my clothes were being washed and dried.

First Mel helped me sort out my accommodation for tonight by making a phone call to this place I’m in now. It’s a camping ground with cabins. The internet is unusable, there’s no TV, the water in the cabin doesn’t work because the pipes are still frozen, but it’s a nice new (not quite finished ) cabin with a comfy bed, coffee maker, fridge ( not really essential in this weather) and microwave. I haven’t paid yet because they weren’t able to process my card on their phones so I’ve offered to do a bank transfer later. I really hope they’re not charging me the full amount because there are so many things lacking.

Anyway, back to yesterday. Mel makes the most delicious cinnamon rolls! I had one with coffee, then when we realised I wouldn’t be able to purchase anything for dinner tonight, she gave me some moose stew to have for dinner last night and keep the one I bought in Glenallen for tonight. The moose stew was pretty good.

This morning I was slightly delayed by talking to my neighbours in the adjoining cabin, Becky and Jeff.

Becky is wearing an amazing coat made by the indigenous people out of the pelts of several different animals.

She also was kind enough to give my some Echinacea which is exactly what I needed. I’ve been feeling fine on the bike but have been coughing a lot in the evenings. They were a lovely couple so I cycled off in good spirits. Receiving a nice email from my friend Peter from Tewantin also made a great start to the day.

Todays ride started with a 2km hill. As usual I don’t mind climbing first thing when my legs are fresh as it helps to warm up. It was pretty cold today. I knew todays ride was going to be slightly uphill but that didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t overly long. Tomorrow will be much longer but mostly slightly downhill.

The outlook was all forest so there was not much to do except look for bears again. It improved a bit after a while.

A few caribou ( or something) ran on the road in front of me just before I reached halfway. I knew there was going to be somewhere to stop so when I saw the ‘Red Eagle Lodge’, I assumed that was it.

I let myself in through the side door ( nobody locks anything here) and was met by Judy, the owner. I asked if I might be able to get a coffee and she invited me to help myself to her coffee and leftover breakfast from her guests. The coffee was the best I’ve had for a long time, made with her pride joy, an Australian Breville machine. I enjoyed a bagel and pocketed a boiled egg for later while chatting to Judy. She then suggested I inspect her cabins which were all beautifully appointed. I was sorry I wasn’t staying there because they were not on any online accommodation forums and I hadn’t been able to find out how much they charged. I advised her to get on Airbnb so people could book online but she is 80yo and not confident with IT things.

After an extended break I cycled on again. A couple of kms up the road I saw the gas station where I was actually supposed to stop. Oops!

The afternoon ride was pretty uneventful except for a couple of long slow hills. I took this photo crossing a bridge so you can see how the river is still frozen in places. Rain started just before I arrived at my destination. By the time my hostess was showing me to my cabin, it was hailing! Glad I got in when I did.

I better go try and pay now and hopefully the internet will be good enough at the house for me to post this.

[midnightunderground-npcs]

Interview: Victorina Mochizuki

Dossier:

Name: Victorina ‘Rina’ Mochizuki

Age: 398

Species: Vampire

Circle: Night

Known Relationships: Yasaminia Ahmadi ( Best Friend ), Ludovicus Hummel ( Other Best Friend & Roommate ), Carmen Blakely ( Regular at the Karnstein )

Interview:

What's your name?

“You could literally have asked Sam for my email, sent these via digital postage and I’d have replied that way,” so that she didn’t have to deal with the foul scent attacking her sense of smell. “Victorina Mochizuki. Rina. If you ever call me Victorina, I’m banning you from Karnstein and any other establishment I open in Vegas or elsewhere.”

How do you know Tabitha Spencer?

It’s hard to keep herself from slamming the door in his face, but she somehow manages, while her eyes flit to the little bottle of kaizen air freshener and teasing the idea of spraying it at the wolf, “Tibby; likes to order a large iced latte with blueberry and marrow...pretty decent at social media marketing. Accused party I’ll be defending apparently.”  

How do you know Jose Alves Cruz?

“The plaintiff? Mayor of Las Vegas, public knowledge for everyone not living under a rock.” It didn’t seem like a question that could narrow anything down for anyone, that man loved to plaster his face all over the city. Mayor of the People or whatever other slogan he’d come up with. One of his campaign goons had stuck a poster on her storefront once and she’d defaced the thing before sticking it onto the bulletin board of her Kafé, ‘dumbass idiot runs for mayor again— even politicians hate him’. 

How do you know Hollis Fiala?

“The other plaintiff? More public knowledge for everyone not living under a rock? Circle leader to the otherworldly creatures that have, for some reason, decided to co-exist with the likes of everyone else.” You had to wonder if the hierarchy there was any better than that of the Night Circle, if the faeries and demons were in any struggle for power like werewolves and vampires. “They’re Fae or something, I’m sure.”

Did you see the shot/what happened that night from your perspective?

“If you’re asking if I saw the shooter, then no. Decorum says you’re looking at the party giving a speech—is that any different for you wolves or what?” She knew they didn’t respect business, his own parents having bought some property out from under her some years back. “I heard a shot, grabbed Sam and ducked.”

When did you get the invitation for the party/know you were going to work it?

“Typically I don’t go to these things. Felt like switching it up this time around, so when the letter came in the mail I cleared my schedule,” she says, shrugging. That’s all there was to it.

Did you go with someone?

“I did, yeah...you’ll hear it from her, Sam Ahmadi. Should be on the guest list.” 

Do you own a gun/have you ever owned a gun?

“I’ve fired a gun, before your time wolf cub. But I don’t very well need one of those now do I?” Human beings are weak things, needing protection for all those moments they decide to venture out into the world; it doesn’t help much against the creatures that go bump in the night, not when you’re Unaware and lost to the realities of the world, but it’s the illusion of it after all. People tend to live on hopes and illusions. “I don’t have a gun. I’ve only ever borrowed one. And that’s all the time I have for you today. Leave.”

[captainpains]

New Year’s Eve (Captain Rex x reader)

I live! Happy New Year🎊🎉✨Enjoy some fluff for rex.

Warnings: Modern AU, Mentions of food and alcohol consumption, gn! reader, swearing, kisses

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex doesn't know why he agreed to come to the city's New Year's Eve party.

When Cody had bought the tickets, he was planning on going with his boyfriend. But then he'd found him in bed with his secretary. So instead of going alone, he asked his brother. Rex only said yes because who in their right mind would turn down free food and champagne.

Rex stood by the bar, regretting his decision greatly. The party was full of people who Rex didn't really like, and the food that was served was overcooked and under seasoned. He took a sip of his rum and coke before pulling at the coller of his suit. It was also uncomfortably warm in the ballroom.

He spied a door on the otherside of the room that lead to the cold outside. It was snowing but it was better than sweating his ass off inside.

When he made it outside onto the venue's patio, he noticed a handful of cocktail tables with a few couples standing around them talking. There were heaters at the corners of the square patio to keep the guests warm with chairs next to them. That's when Rex noticed you.

You were sitting in a chair alone, sipping on wine. You had a forlorn look on your face as you checked your phone and sighed a little. You were also familiar, although he couldn't put a finger as to why. Rex watched you for a moment more before he realized he was probably being creepy. He didn't often talk to strangers unless they initiated it. He didn't like feeling like he was impeding on someone's conversation or private time. But you looked really sad and in need of a friend.

He was about to go talk to you when Cody found him. He placed a hand on Rex's shoulder to get his attention, startling his brother slightly. Cody gave him a funny look before following his brother's gaze to you.

"You should socialize instead of staring," he suggested, taking a drink of his whiskey.

"I was about to when you interrupted me," Rex hissed in reply.

"You were overthinking," he snorted. "Go make some small talk."

Cody pushed his brother towards you. Rex glared at him as he fixed his suit jacket and moved to you, trying to think of something to say.

Meanwhile, you nervously checked your phone again. You really shouldn't have gone to the party. Your sister invited you only to ditch you a few minutes in. You went outside to escape all the people milling around in the overheated ballroom. Then you'd started checking your phone and answering emails from work to pass the time. Your sister would scold you for working at a party, too bad she left you.

A hand tapped you on the shoulder. You looked up, only to see a pair of warm brown eyes meeting yours. You let your eyes move around his face. He was handsome and somehow familiar.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked.

"N-no," you informed.

He sat down. He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests. You looked at him a moment longer then returned to the emails on your phone.

"You're not one for parties either?" He asked. You smiled a little and tilted your head towards him.

"Yeah... I just came because of my sister," you told the stranger.

"I understand," he nodded.

You looked back towards your phone, the drank some wine.

As you went through your email you stumbled upon one announcement of the employee of the month. There was a picture of said employee and when you glanced at it, you noticed that they looked like the man that was sitting next to you. Same hair and everything.

"Is the wine good?"

"Yeah, but then again I'm kinda biased. They are serving my favorite," you put your phone away as you akwardly replied.

"Then I'm sure it's good if it's your favorite," he grinned.

That little conversation is all it took for you two talk all night. You found that his name was Rex (the same name as the employee of the month). You also found out that his favorite restaurant is a sushi bar in downtown Naboo and he only came to the party because his brother promised him food and drinks. You decided that he was adorable when flustered and made it your mission to kiss him before he left.

Rex found out that you preferred spicy over sweet and read often. He liked listening to you talk about your passions and interests. He was infatuated with your wit and kindness. And while he knew you would part ways at the end of the night, he made it his mission to get your number. When Cody had intercepted him as he got more food, he'd suggested perhaps kissing you at midnight but Rex shot it down. He wanted to at least take you to dinner first.

"My favorite book is actually called Endless New Year," you confessed.

The two of you had moved inside when the bite of the cold became too much. You occupied a table on the outskirts of the room, far from the dance floor but closer to the bar. An older couple sat with you, enthusing about their recent vacation to Alderaan.

"What's it about?" The old man asked.

"It's about these people who are forever cursed to be outcasts until one of them finds a special watch and returns it to the original owner," you enthused.

"Oh, that sounds like a lovely story. I should read it sometime," the old woman delighted.

"It is good-" You were cut off by a person speaking into the microphone on stage.

"Alright everyone, our staff are passing out the champagne for the toast. It is 11:45 and we can't wait to bring in the New Year with you!"

"Oh, it's almost time the for the kiss, love," The woman purred to her husband.

"My favorite thing about every New Year with you," he agreed, smiling at his wife.

The two got up to join everyone on the dance floor as they gathered for the count down. A server came up to your table, offering the champagne. You both gladly took it.

"Ya know, I had fun tonight. We should do this again," Rex enquired hopefully.

"Get ditched by our siblings and spend the night chatting with strangers?" You snarked.

"No," he chuckled. " But I was wondering if maybe..."

"You could kiss me?" You joked.

"Yes–No! I mean I wanted to ask for your number," he stammered.

"Ah well, I'll give it to you if you kiss me," you remarked.

The last person on stage finished their speech. The crowd in the center of the ballroom began to count down.

"10!"

You and Rex stand up.

"9!"

You walk to the dance floor.

"8!"

You look at him.

"7!"

He looks at you.

"6!"

Rex started learning in.

"5!"

You do the same.

"4!"

"You promise?"

"3!"

"Of course!"

"2!"

"Good."

"1!"

"Happy New Year's!!"

Then he kissed you.

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)

i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 3k

warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”

“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”

You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.

“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.

“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”

“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”

Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.

Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.

Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.

“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.

“I’m suing them. All of them.”

“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.

“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.

“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.

“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”

“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”

“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”

His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.

You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.

You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.

Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.

“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.

“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.

“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.

“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.

Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.

“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.

“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.

The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.

“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.

Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.

“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.

“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.

“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.

“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.

“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”

Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.

“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”

“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.

“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”

“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”

“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.

“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”

You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.

“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.

“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”

A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.

“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.

You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.

“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”

Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.

“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.

You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.

You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.

“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.

His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.

“Ready to feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.

“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.

He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.

His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.

“Never, Darling.”

And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.

When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.

Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.

When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.

“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”

“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.

“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.

“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”

PREVIOUS PART

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[jinx-jade]

A fairy’s protection chapter 1

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sabine asked as the taxi pulled up to the bakery.

“Maman, you’ve been asking me that about everything I’ve done since losing my vision. Yes, I’m sure this is a good idea.” Marinette says exasperatedly.

Tom gave his daughter a pitiful look, “Sweetheart, your mother is just wor… ” 

“Worried about me. I know.” Marinette interrupted, causing Tom and Sabine to give each other worried looks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Marinette claims before entering the taxi.

Her trip from the 21st arrondissement, Paris, France to Gotham, New Jersey, America wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be.

Once she collected all of her luggage, that wasn’t much, Marinette left the airport and walked into an empty alleyway. She checked the area for any form of energy, but having found none, Marinette asked Kaalki to open a portal to her new home.

The ‘new home’, was an old apartment building that borders the edge of a shopping district. It is a five-story building that Marinette had bought and renovated during her time as the independent designer MDC, with the money she had made before being forced to retire.

It was originally supposed to be the first MDC boutique, the first floor specifically being renovated to be a store.

The second floor was built to be her workroom, with extra storage and workbenches.

The other three floors were renovated to be living quarters. This included the Masterbedroom, Masterbath, two guest bedrooms, a full bathroom, the kitchen, dining room, living room, and a study.

However plans change, and due to what Marinette and the kwami have labeled the incident, Marinette could no longer see. Instead of sight, she uses a white cane and focuses on different energies to ‘see’.

She decided to retire from being MDC and told her parents what to type to email and inform her clients. Meaning the plan for MDC’s first boutique was thrown in the trash.

Marinette not being one to give up still moved to Gotham and into her apartment building. She simply changed what she planned on selling.

The kwamis had thrown random ideas back and forth till they settled on opening up a flower shop. An idea that Marinette easily agreed to.

During her first month in Gotham, Marinette and the kwamis turned the second floor into a greenhouse so she can grow plants herself. If they happened to use magic to speed up the plant growing process, then no one needed to know.

The flower shop was called Jardin de fées (fairy garden). She not only sold flowers but also sold tea mixture and baked goods. All of which Marinette and the kwamis prepared and made themselves, from arranging the flowers, grinding the tea leaves and herbs, to baking the snacks and treat.

Three months into Marinette living in Gotham and her flower shop was surprisingly doing pretty well. When the shop was open, there were always customers moving about and ordering flowers for loved ones or special occasions.

Marinette hadn’t even run into any trouble while being in the city.

Of course, the moment she mentioned the lack of trouble to the kwamis, a crash was heard on her roof.

Marinette moved to the door that leads to the roof, reaching out her own energy to check for any trouble, Marinette let out a gasp at her observation. She quickly grabbed her medkit before exiting the building onto the roof and starting to attend to the person’s injuries.

The person had multiple cuts as well as a knife stuck in their lower abdomen.

“Hey. Can you hear me?” Marinette asked as calmly as she could. She could freak out about this later.

The person gave Marinette a grunt of acknowledgment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna treat these wounds before you bleed out. Ok?” Marinette informed them before placing her hand near one of the wounds.

She took a deep breath, extending her energy through the person’s body, which allowed her to ‘see’ their internal injuries. It also allowed her to see toxic green magic that felt slimy and almost as if she could drown in it.

Marinette grabbed the appropriate supplies to sitch and band-aid the wounded person. It wasn’t the worst injury she patched up, but it was her first time patching a person up without sight.

Marinette pulled on the slimy magic that seemed to be a mix of unbalanced creation and destruction energy and used it to aid her work. Using this energy seemed to have made the person fall unconscious but other than that it didn’t seem to harm them.

After all the injuries were stitched shut and the knife was removed, she began to put bandages over it to not let it get infected when she sensed two other people landing on her roof. Both were injured to a lesser extent, and seem to be trying to stay hidden with how far away and quiet they were.

She let out a sigh once she was done attending to the wounds. Marinette had also attempted to balance out the magic imbalance, but to completely even out the amount of creative and destructive energy would take multiple days. Something about the way they showed up on her roof made her have a feeling that they didn’t want to stick around that long. Which was fine with her, since she didn’t want to expose herself as a magic-user.

“To whoever is hiding over there, your friend should be fine now.” The energy coming off them seemed to coil tightly in what might have been in surprise, stress, or nervousness. It might have even been a combination of the three, but Marinette ignored it.

“Make sure they get lots of rest and don’t pull their stitches,” Marinette informed them before gathering her stuff and leaving the chaotic roof. “Have a nice rest of your evening,” Mariette said, before retreating into her home.

She then proceeded to stress bake the kwamis’ favorite treats well into the morning hours, before the kwamis finally convinced her to go to sleep.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”  

[kelyon]

Begging On His Bended Knees

My RSS gift for @prettypinkviper. Hope you like it!

Summary: The most feared man in Storybrooke goes to a professional dominatrix to express his weaker side 

Read on AO3

 This was a mistake. 

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have gone to that website. He shouldn’t have read the profiles of all the women (and a few men) who worked through this agency. He shouldn’t have found one profile in particular so alluring that he read and re-read it more than a dozen times. He shouldn’t have fixated on the woman in the profile--the one who offered “gentle but firm discipline” that focused on “all the fine points of sensitivity”--the one whose picture was soft and light, almost demure compared to the lurid boldness that made up everything else about that website.

He shouldn’t have masturbated to the thought of that girl. He shouldn’t have climaxed to the fantasy of a beautiful stranger playing with his body like he was her own personal cat toy--her claws out as she ripped his defenses to shreds and left him weak, weeping with delight.

He definitely shouldn’t have gone back to the same website the next day. He shouldn’t have clicked the link to know more about the girl in the photo. He shouldn’t have filled in a profile and questionnaire that was blisteringly honest, except for his name. He shouldn’t have responded to her emails asking for more information about him. He shouldn’t have scheduled an appointment with her. He shouldn’t have bought a PayPal gift card in cash at the grocery store. He shouldn’t have closed his pawn shop in the middle of the week and made the drive down to Boston.

He shouldn’t be standing in front of a nondescript office building preparing to let himself be splayed open and broken by a woman who would take his money and then kick him out.

At least that part wasn’t a new experience, Gold thought drily, though knowing it was going to happen ahead of time added new color to the occasion. 

With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Theodore Gold opened the glass door into the building. The place looked so ordinary. He could be walking into a dentist’s office, or a chiropractor. After the car crash, he’d spent six months going to physical therapy for his leg in an office just like this.

He could only hope that this experience would do more good than those efforts ever had.     

Gold went to the suite listed in his email. A young woman with bright red hair sat at a reception guest in the front of the room. Hardly in control of his own actions, Gold approached her. 

“I scheduled an appointment.” His mouth was dry, his voice raspy. 

“Of course.” The young woman smiled at him briefly, then turned to her computer. “What’s the name?”

“Rumford Weaver,” Gold lied without hesitation

“Okay.” Typing and clicking. “Looks like you paid ahead online, and that’s all in order.” The young woman’s smile broadened. “Oh, you’re scheduled with Lacey Rose? She’s great.”

“You know that?” For a moment, his nerves disappeared, banished by the force of his curiosity. “Have you… used her services?” 

The receptionist had wide eyes, blue-green as the sea. As she got up from her desk, she winked at him. “I’ll never tell. We take confidentiality very seriously in this office.”

The young woman beckoned Gold to follow her. Her bright red ponytail bounced as she led him through the fluorescent-lit hallways. 

Unlike the doctor’s offices it so closely resembled, this suite didn’t have a central waiting room. Instead, the receptionist walked him past half a dozen doors, each with a small white-noise machine on the ground next to it. When they got to the end of the hall, the young woman pulled out a key from the pocket of her cardigan. She unlocked the door that was closest to a sunny window.

“The doors are locked?” Gold asked.

“Only on the outside.” The receptionist jiggled the handle that was inside the room to show him. “No one can barge in on you, but you can get out any time.”

 She held the door open, and he stepped in.

“You can have a seat if you want. Lacey will be with you in just a moment.”

Gold didn’t say anything to the receptionist, he was too occupied looking around. By the time it occurred to him to thank her, she had already shut the door and left.  

Leaning on his cane, Gold stood in the center of the room. Suddenly, this had all become overwhelming. What the hell was he doing? Gold had never solicited a sex worker before, let alone something like this. What he wanted, what he had already paid this stranger--this Lacey-- to do to him was repulsive. Any sane person would say so. If his father had lived to find out about this, he would have disowned him--again. Millah would never have indulged these desires in their marriage. Cora would have, and that was as good a condemnation as anything else. 

He was wrong. He was sick. He shouldn’t be here.

This was a mistake. 

In a desperate attempt to gather his sanity, Gold took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a slow count to ten, he let himself exhale. Then he opened his eyes again. 

The room was different than he thought a dominatrix’s domain would be. There wasn’t any black leather or red latex, no implements of torture on display. There wasn’t even a bed, though Gold supposed the plush chaise lounge could serve for any activity where one party had to be horizontal. 

The whole thing was… light. Pretty. The walls were still doctor’s-office white, but the furnishings looked like an old sitting room, some hidden nook at a bed and breakfast. Along with the chaise, there was a wingback chair and a footstool, all upholstered in the same dreamy pastel blue. The antique dealer in him recognized the reproduction of a Queen Anne style, with the polished walnut legs carved into sleek S-curves.

That had always been one of his favorite eras of furniture. Gold hoped that was a good sign. Maybe the person who did business in this room could also appreciate how much strength could hide behind the appearance of grace and delicacy. 

Next to the chair was a round wooden side table, with a pastel blue tablecloth draped over it. On the table was a pitcher of ice water and two glasses. The clear glass pitcher was so round it was practically a sphere. The squat little jug was anachronistic to the rest of the classical furnishings, more 1960s or 1970s. Gold through it looked odd juxtaposed against the rest of the room’s elegance, almost comic. The hint of fun kept the room from being too stuffy. 

The only part of the room that seemed even remotely risque were the framed pictures on the walls. All the frames were brown wooden ovals, with convex glass bubbled outward over the images. The pictures were vintage nudes or pinups. Sepia-toned photographs showed women and men displaying their bodies for the camera with knowing smirks. Illustrated drawings showed scenes of pleasure and pain where cartoonishly-proportioned characters made exaggerated expressions of delight. In a less tense moment, Gold would have found the pictures vulgar and perhaps embarrassing. But as tightly-wound as he was now, he welcomed the excuse to chuckle. It felt like the first time he had breathed since he’d gotten out of his car. 

He wasn’t a freak for wanting this woman’s services. Lots of people wanted what he wanted. If enough other people engaged in this that jokes could be made about it, then it wasn’t unheard of at all. For God’s sake, all the workers in this office suite made their living from clients like Gold.

He was fine. This was going to be alright. Lacey Rose was a professional. What was the worst that could happen?

The spirit of optimism lasted for another minute and a half, until a door opposite the one Gold had come in through opened, and Gold caught his first look at his dominatrix, Lacey Rose.

Or as he knew her, his tenant, Belle French.

She looked like her profile picture. Of course, it wasn’t until this moment that Gold realized just how little that photograph actually showed of her face. The picture had been a three-quarter view, with “Lacey”’s eyes downcast and her lips quirked up in a saucy grin. Honey-brown curls had draped over most of her features. That hair was so unlike the straightened auburn he had seen around Storybrooke every day for the past year. 

If the picture had shown her eyes, Gold would have recognized Miss French right away.  That would have stopped him from making an appointment. He couldn’t say whether or not it would have stopped him from reading her profile. Or from fantasizing about her.

“Oh, shit,” Miss French said as soon as she saw him. 

She wasn’t wearing the sensible skirts and comfortable sweaters he normally saw her in. This costume matched the tone of her profile picture. It matched the room where she did business. A pale blue corset laced up her front, with brown leather trim around the very low neckline. True to her stage name, she wore a lace blouse underneath the corset. Frothy, cream-colored frills poured out from around her neckline and capped sleeves. 

She was wearing leather pants. Tight leather pants, the same brown as the accents of her corset. And black, high-heeled riding boots. 

Leather and lace. Darkness and light. Sex and innocence. Disparate parts coming together to make something new, something incredible. All wrapped up in Belle French. 

Belle French, who always waved at the pawn shop when she passed through town on the way to her apartment above the old library. Belle French, who always offered a few minutes of friendly chat when he came by for the rent. Belle French, who had brought him a plate of cookies last Christmas--the first gift he’d received in years. Belle French, who was kind and lovely and wholesome, who smiled at him and spoke to him more than anyone else in Storybrooke. 

“Shit,” Gold whispered. 

In the terrible silence of their mutual recognition, Miss French had gotten over her shock enough to speak. “Mr. Gold, I’m so sorry, I think there was some kind of mix-up. I’m supposed to be meeting a man named Rumford.”

Gold forced himself to look at the ground. He wouldn’t ogle Miss French, though he considered his money well spent just for getting the opportunity to see her in her current getup. 

“What an odd coincidence." He tried not to sound bitter. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Lacey Rose.”

“Shit,” Miss French said again. With the distracted air of someone in crisis, she went to the table and poured herself a glass of ice water. Then she sank down to sit at the end of the chaise lounge. She took a long drink, and looked up at him. “Nobody in Storybrooke knows that I do this.”

“I certainly didn’t.” He took a seat in the wingback chair across from her. “I never would have contacted you if I had. I thought you were a student.”

“I am. This is how I pay for it. Master’s degrees don’t come cheap.” Miss French’s shoulders slumped. “Crap, now I’m gonna have to find a new apartment.”

Gold tilted his head. “Why?” 

She looked up at him and raised her hands, indicating the room, her costume, the entire situation. “I mean…”

“Miss French, I’m not any threat to you. It’s not my practice to toss perfectly good tenants out onto the street.”

She scoffed.  “Well, thanks for that. But won’t it be a little awkward when I give you my rent and now you know where it came from?”

Gold leaned forward, his cane between his knees in front of him. “Much more awkward to know that my own money is now included in that category.”

“Oh no, it won’t be,” Miss French said quickly. “I couldn’t possibly have you as a client now. I’ll make sure Ariel gives you a refund. Or I can have your appointment transferred to one of my colleagues. They’re--”

“No.” He cut her off. “I don’t need my money back. And I’m not interested in any of the other people employed by this agency.” He dared to look over at Miss French. “I wanted you,” he said. “Or at least, I wanted Lacey Rose.”

She was looking away from him, with her lips pressed together in a thin line. It looked like she was trying to stop herself from either smiling or frowning. Gold couldn’t tell which was more likely. 

“That’s a shame,” she said at last. “I was really looking forward to meeting Rumford Weaver.”

She was? Why? Gold thought back to their brief email exchange. It had mostly been specifics about this appointment: what his expectations were, what she could offer him, what he wanted or wanted to avoid. He hadn’t tried to be suave or charming--not that he had much experience with being either. He had written to “Lacey” out of pain and loneliness, offering this woman nothing but his perverse needs and the promise of payment.

But Miss French had offered him the money back. It seemed all she wanted was his need. 

It was impossible. Miss French didn’t want him, not that secret, huddled version of himself that he had spent years trying to keep buried. Gold knew he had a few things to offer a woman--class, wealth, intelligent conversation. He could play the role of a powerful lover, the terror of Storybrooke, the kind of dominant alpha type that so many women wanted. But it was always a role. It exhausted him to pretend that he had no weaknesses, that he didn’t care about anyone, that he never cried or was afraid. 

When emailing Lacey, he had shown her his weaknesses. He had told her how worthless he felt, what a liar he was to pretend otherwise. How he needed to be punished, how he felt like he was being punished, all the time, and how he just wanted to be at peace. Rumford Weaver had told Lacey Rose how much he wanted to be small and safe and cared for, as Gold never had been.

And now Miss French said that she had been looking forward to meeting him. Did she want to give him what he asked for? Was that possible?

Gold couldn’t risk finding out. He couldn’t endure that sort of rejection--not from someone who had until now been the kindest woman he’d ever met. He stood up from the chair and went to the door.

“I should go.”

“Wait.” Miss French was off the chaise lounge and next to him. She put her hand over his on the door handle. Her touch was soft and warm. “You--you really don’t have to go, Mr. Gold.”

He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t raise his eyes away from the sight of their hands. She was touching him.

When was the last time anyone had touched him?

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered. Saying the words out loud felt like releasing a weight that he had been carrying on his back for decades. Slowly, he raised his head to look at Belle French. “May I really stay?” he asked her. “W-will you do a session with me?”

Miss French waited until his eyes were on hers before she spoke. “If you don’t mind being dommed by your renter, I don’t mind domming my landlord. I’ve wanted to get to know you better for a long time, Mr. Gold.”

Nodding, Gold stepped away from the door. 

****

Once Belle had decided that she was going to do a scene with Gold, it wasn’t hard to treat him like a regular client. 

“Okay.” Her go-to starting tone with clients was authoritative, but gentle. Sort of an elementary school teacher that all the good little girls and boys wanted to please. “The first thing we’re going to do is sit down and have a talk about what’s going to happen today.”

“Right.” Gold started to take his previous place in the wingback chair, but Belle stopped him before he could lower himself. 

“That’s my seat,” she said, firm but sweet. With a slight nudge, she got him away from the chair. Then she sat down, with one leg crossed over her knee. 

Gold stepped back, giving her plenty of room. After swiveling his head around the room for a moment, he took a seat on the chaise lounge, near the armrest. 

“Do you want some water before we begin?”

His mouth opened but he didn’t speak for a moment. “What happens if I say no?”

“Then I won’t give you any.” Belle smiled at him, and he gave her a grateful nod.

God, he was so scared! She had never seen Mr. Gold looking anything less than perfectly collected, cool to the point of coldness. In the months she’d been renting from him, she’d come to suspect that there was something sexy hidden underneath all his layers of suits and professionalism. But she had never thought that he’d be as vulnerable as the client she’d exchanged emails with. 

“You can say no to anything,” Belle assured him. “I’m here for you. Have you ever done a BDSM scene before?”

Gold had been looking away, but the question seemed to bring him up short. “No,” he said softly. “Nothing real.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Looking down, he shook his head and rubbed the space between his eyes. The wrinkles in his forehead creased. All Belle could think of was how she wanted to soothe them away with her fingers or her lips.

“Just… porn,” he said at last. “Or research on the internet. Articles, blogs. People can be very frank, behind a wall of anonymity. That was how I found the website for this agency--a customer review.”

“Of me?”

“No, it was one of the male dominants. But it led me to the website, and I found your profile and…” he sighed. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I mean, about Lacey.”

In her line of work, Belle didn’t let a client’s opinion of her mean much, but she did take professional pride in knowing that her profile had caught the attention of someone as intellectual and classy as Mr. Gold.

“Mr. Gold--wait a minute, what’s your first name?”

“Theodore,” he answered. 

“Friends call you Ted?”

He gave her a grim smile. “Everyone who speaks to me calls me Mr. Gold.”

The email from Rumford Weaver said something like that--that he didn’t have any friends or family or romantic interests. It wasn’t a surprising lifestyle for one of her clients, but it was always terribly sad. 

“What would you like people to call you? What should I call you?”

“Theo.” He looked shy, as he said it. “No one’s ever called me that, but I’ve always liked it.”

“Okay, Theo,” Belle nodded encouragingly. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, but Belle saw a blush creeping up his cheeks. How far did that blush go? Theo Gold’s face and hands were tanned. What did the rest of his body look like? How would his skin react to praise? To touch? To pain? Belle had never seen her landlord in less than a three-piece suit. The thought that very soon she would see more of him than anyone else in Storybrooke filled her with a thrill that was much more than professional pride.

“We can’t have sex!” Belle blurted shrilly, then winced at the sound of her own voice. Where had that thought come from?

Theo looked at her, more puzzled than upset. “Yes, your emails were quite clear on that point.”

“Right.” She exhaled quietly, trying to treat him like any other client. This situation was affecting her in a way she didn’t have time to explore right now. For now, she had to keep herself in control. Theo needed her. “So the standing rule for any client is that I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

His eyes, when he looked at her, were big and brown and full of need. “You’ll touch me?”

Belle gave him a smile and a small nod. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t let herself dwell on how softly he spoke, how quickly he gave his consent, how overwhelmed he sounded. She had to get on with the preliminaries so she would know what to do once things really got started.

“In your email, you talked about punishment. Were you thinking of something physical, or more psychological?”

He looked down at the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “In my head, I was imagining whips and chains, being… broken down, ground into dust. But now that I’m here, sitting in front of you…”

Theo trailed off, so Belle offered an explanation. “Going from fantasy to reality can be a lot for people, especially on the first time. Is it okay if I use my discretion?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, based on your emails and what we’ve talked about today, I think you do want a physical sensation. But I don’t think you’re ready for anything extreme. So, for example, I might scratch you with my fingernails, but I won’t try to break the skin. Does that sound like something you might enjoy?”

His eyes fluttered closed, and he nodded.

“And as I said, you can say no at any time. You can tell me to slow down, or go lighter or move to a different part of your body. This experience is about you, Theo. I want to make you feel good--and sometimes pain can be a part of feeling good.”

“I’ve never had that before.”

“A lot of people haven’t. But in my opinion, more people should. Now, how do you feel about being restrained?”

He breathed in sharply. “I--I like the idea of it.”

“Good. And like with the pain, I’ll start you off slowly. You can refuse or ask for less whenever you want to. Are you allergic to anything? Metal, latex, fragrances?”

Theo shook his head.

“What about your leg? Do you have any concerns about positions?”

“I can’t stand unsupported for more than a few minutes.” He gestured with his cane. “And even then, it’s… painful.”

“Do you think you might be able to kneel for me?”

This time, he didn’t answer. Bracing himself against his cane, Theodore Gold slid off the chaise lounge. He dropped to one knee, then the other, then laid his cane on the ground in front of him. He rested his hands on his thighs, palms up, and looked at her.

“I can kneel for you, Miss French.”

Belle took in the sight of him. The powerful Mr. Gold, the most feared man in Storybrooke, was on his knees. For her. This was a part of him that no one had ever seen. From what she could tell, this was a part of Theo that even he had trouble fully accepting. He was giving this to her, his most hidden, most vulnerable self.

He was beautiful.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

****

It was harder for Gold to get up than it had been to kneel. On his knees, he had felt like nothing. He didn’t have to pretend anymore, he didn’t have to keep up the masks he wore for all the world. On his knees, he wasn’t a landlord or a businessman or the sharpest dealmaker in three states. On his knees, he wasn’t a disgraced son or a failed husband and father, or a disappointing half of a power couple. On his knees, he was just Theo. And that was all he had to be. Someone he had never been before. 

Miss French helped him up, and guided him to the door she had come out of earlier.

“I’m going to give you a few minutes alone. I want you to undress to the level of your comfort. If you want to take off everything, that’s fine. If you don’t want to take off anything, that’s fine.”

Gold nodded.

Miss French pointed to a large piece of furniture in the center of the room, an inclined bench on a platform. “When you’re ready to begin the scene, I want you to lie down on your back. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and we’ll take it from there. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mi--should I keep calling you Miss French?”

She shrugged. “Most of my clients call me Miss Lacey or Mistress Lacey, so that’s close enough. Or Mistress Belle would be okay, since you actually know me.”

Despite her reassurances, it felt odd to use her real name. “What if I just called you Mistress?”

Her pink lips twisted into a grin. “Oh, I think I’d like that very much, Theo.” 

She closed the door behind her, and left him alone in a new room. This was darker than the first, though no less rich and comfortable. Unlike a doctor’s office, this room felt intimate, sensuous. Safe. The harsh fluorescents were off in here. Small lamps and electric candles bathed the room in a golden glow. 

The bench where he was to wait for Miss French was upholstered in navy blue vinyl, the kind used on boats. Gold supposed it was waterproof for easy cleanup. Sapphire blue throw pillows made the bench feel less clinical, and they matched the thick curtains hanging from the wall. The plush rug on the floor was cobalt blue. That would feel good to kneel on. Gold saw a wooden armoire and a cedar chest--where Belle stored her supplies.

On the wall behind the door, there were a trio of carved wooden hooks, all empty. That was where he would have to put his clothes. 

He could take off his suit coat easily. And his waistcoat. Lots of men walked around wearing only a shirt and tie and trousers. Bracing himself against the wall, Gold kicked off his shoes. He should have taken the time to sit down and untie them, but this was hard enough. He didn’t want to have to stop and think about what he was doing.

Tie next, and then it was perfectly natural to unbutton his shirt. He put his cuff links in his trouser pocket, along with his sleeve garters. Gold hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge and take off his shirt. He had an undershirt on, he could wear that for as long as he needed to. Belle had said that he could wear as much or as little as he wanted to.

She would take care of him.

The thought warmed Gold’s heart for a moment, but then he shook his head and undid his belt buckle. Miss French was a professional. She did this for a living. She had probably done this a hundred times in the past month. Being friendly and ensuring trust was one of the skills of her craft. It was how she retained clients, it didn’t mean that she had any particular fondness for him.

Pulling down his trousers, Gold tried to ignore the bulge in his boxers. While he would never deny his attraction to the idea of Lacey Rose, it was a different matter to let himself get hard in the presence of Miss French. He palmed his cock through the black silk, as though the touch would calm his arousal instead of increasing it.

“Fuck,” he hissed. 

Well, there was nothing for it. The only way to keep his composure would be with a reminder of how pathetic and unpalatable he really was. The undershirt would have to come off. 

The cool air made his nipples pucker and shrink, self-consciousness did the same to his cock. Gold breathed a sigh of relief. Now Mistress wouldn’t have proof of what a pervert he was. 

Theodore Gold stood in the blue room wearing nothing but his underwear and socks. Keeping his crushed ankle hidden was less an act of pride than it was a courtesy to Miss French. No one needed to see that. 

As instructed, Gold got himself up on the raised bench. He lay on his back, with his hands folded together under his rib cage. Soon, there was a knock on the door. 

“Are you ready for me, Theo?”

His heartbeat had been going at a brisk pace already, but now it began to sprint. 

“Yes,” he gulped. “Please come in, Mistress.”

The door opened. Miss French came in, with powerful, long-legged strides. But, somehow, she wasn’t Miss French anymore. The friendly Library Studies student had been left in the other room. Now she was Lacey Rose. Even better, now she was Mistress.

“How polite you are.” She stood in front of the bench, with her hands on her hips and her elbows pointed out to either side. She had a riding crop in one hand.

Gold swallowed, but said nothing.

She strode closer to him and used the flat end of the riding crop to lift up his chin so he was looking into her eyes.

“When I speak to you, I expect an answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. “Th-thank you for saying that I am polite, Mistress.”

She lowered the crop and gave him an approving nod. “Good boy.”

Gold heard his breath come out in pants. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Going over to the armoire, she pulled out a coiled length of yellow rope. It didn’t look intimidating, more like a curtain pull than anything else.

“Now, I’m sure a good boy like you remembers the rules about touching.” She draped the rope over his wrists. Gold gasped at the cool touch of nylon. “But I know that even good boys can get carried away, when they get excited. So I like to give them a little reminder.” She took a moment to brush a lock of his hair away from his face. “Is that alright, Theo?”

Gold nodded under her hand. “Yes, Mistress.” 

She tied him up in silence. The rope was soft against his skin, the coolness soothing. Gently taking his arms, she set his hands, one on top of the other, over his groin. Her fingers grazed delicately through the sparse hairs on his arms, leaving trails of goosebumps in her wake. Her knots were loose, he could flex his fingers and move his wrists. 

“Is that too tight for my sweet Theo?”

“No, Mistress,” Gold said. And it wasn’t. He could probably get out of the ropes if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

“Good,” Mistress smiled. She stroked his hair again. Then her soft, pale fingers traced lines along his face. All Gold could do was close his eyes and lean into her touch.

“Do you like it when I touch you, Theo?” She rested her hand over his throat. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, Mistress, I do.”

“Good,” she said again. “You are allowed to touch yourself, by the way. I think the ropes should be loose enough for that.”

Gold’s cock jumped into his bound hands. Gold himself sat up on the bench. “No, please!” he begged. “Miss French, please don’t give me permission for that.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You didn’t mention anything about chastity in your emails. We can switch over to that if you’d like.”

“It’s--” Gold tried to gesture, but could only bring his bound hands up to the level of his chest. “I don’t… I don’t want chastity in general. I just… I’d rather you didn’t encourage me to…” He looked down, at his boxers. “Not about you, Miss French.”

The proud stance of her posture eased. Belle French gave him a sweet, sad smile. “Whatever you say goes, Theo. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She set one hand down on the bench, near his body, but not touching him. “But I am a sex worker. It’s nothing new for clients to masturbate in front of me. I want you to have a good time, even ‘to completion,’ as they say.”

Gold hung his head. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered. “It’s… wrong.”

“To be aroused?”

“To use you.” He dared to look up at her, and saw her looking at him--calm and gentle and perfect. “For my pleasure. I know other men do it, but I… shouldn’t.”

Belle French licked her lips. Her wet, pink tongue parted soft folds of flesh. Oh fuck.

“What if I asked you to?” she offered.

“What?”

She stood up straight, tossed her hair back over her shoulders. She leaned over Gold, forcing him to lie back down on the bench. “What if your mistress ordered you to touch your hot, hard prick until you came in front of her?”

Gold shuddered. Under his hands, his cock was every bit as hot and hard as Mistress had said.

“W-what about pain?” he whispered. “What about my punishment?”

Mistress shut her eyes for a moment. “Theo,” she murmured. “My sweet, lovely Theo. I think you punish yourself. And I think you need someone to tell you when the punishment is over.”

 He felt an ache in his heart that he had never noticed before. A pain, that he could never remember not carrying around with him. Could she really make it go away? “Will you do that? Mistress?”

Now she cupped his face, cradling him in both hands. “Oh yes, Theo,” she whispered. “Nothing would make me happier.”

****

Belle helped him get off of the bench. In other circumstances, gripping a man’s upper arm would be practically platonic, but Theo’s flesh was hot under her touch. 

A fine sheen of sweat had gathered over his forehead and his upper back. Belle took a second to admire the view. How would her Theo react to ice cubes sliding across his heated brow? He said he wanted pain, but Belle itched to have him play with all kinds of sensations. Hot and cold, silky and scratchy. She wanted Theo to feel the good as well as the bad.

She hoped she would get a chance to show him everything his body was capable of. But first, she had to help him understand that he was allowed to be aroused by this situation.

“On your knees again, dear,” she ordered.

Theo sank onto the faux-fur rug she had over the office’s short carpet. “Thank you, Mistress,” he whispered.

Oh, the warmth that welled up in her heart every time he said that word! It was so special, coming from him. Other clients called her Mistress Lacey, but only Theo knew that she was really Belle. He saw her. He knew who she was beyond the atmosphere and the persona. And he still wanted to worship her.

She stood over him. His head was tilted up. It would have been the perfect position for her to straddle his face and order him to eat her out and until she screamed. But that couldn’t happen now. Theo wasn’t her lover, he was just her client. This was about his pleasure. 

Slowly, Belle swished her riding crop in the air over his back. Tiny muscle movements around his eyes and face signaled that he felt the motion. “You just stay still, Theo.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He closed his eyes and tried to settle himself.

“No, keep looking at me.” She gave her voice an edge for just a moment, then turned back on the sweetness. “I want to know that you’re thinking about me, Theo.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. His brown eyes swept up and down her body. “Always, Mistress.”

Belle brought the riding crop closer to his skin. The sky-blue leather danced against his back like a windshield wiper. This technique was more like what she would use with a feather, but Theo was such a ball of nerves that even this gentle touch made him shiver.

 Making sure that he was watching her, she looked down at his crotch. He wasn’t stroking his cock, but his bound hands were over his bulge and his fingers twiddled back and forth. 

“What are you doing, Theo?”

His body jerked. He breathed in sharply. But his eyes stayed uplifted. “I’m looking at you, Mistress.”

She gave him an indulgent chuckle. He wasn’t wrong, she couldn’t get him for that. Instead, she stepped away, so he could see all of her at once. She stood with her legs apart and her arms behind her back, chest out. 

“And do you like what you see, little one?”

Belle watched his hand begin to squeeze his cock. Was he even aware that he was doing it?

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. 

She grinned. “Well then, why don’t you tell me about myself, hmm?” She strode around the small room, giving him several different angles of her body. “Tell me what you like about me.”

“Oh, Mistress,” Theo panted. “You are beautiful.”

“Mm-hmm.” She got close enough to rub the flat end of the riding crop against his chest. He was tan everywhere. Thin, with scattered strands of body hair on his thighs. His clavicle stood out under his skin. The area around it was splotchy with pink blushes. “So beautiful.”  

He breathed in slowly through his nose. He was shaking.

“Talk to me, Theo,” she ordered. “What are you feeling?”

“Fuck, I’m so hard,” he whispered. “I… You… You make me feel so good, Mistress.”

“Good.”

“You are so soft, but so strong. You are lovely. I--oh God--I want you to use me. Mistress, I want you to hurt me. I want to be marked and bruised and bleeding for you. I want you to take everything I have, whatever part of me is worthwhile in your sight. Whatever I have to offer that will give you pleasure. I--”

“I want that too.” Dropping the crop, Belle buried both hands in his long, thick hair. Again, she fought off the desire to pull him into her, to cradle his head against her stomach, to hold him as he told her everything he wanted. She couldn’t keep a professional distance, she wanted to be close to him.

But she had to step away. 

Belle circled her Theo. She took in his body. The slow, steady motion of his hands, the slight, rhythmic jerking of his hips. Now that she wasn’t in front of him, he closed his eyes again. His lips were parted and she could see his tongue. 

“Theo?” She kept her voice soft, but clear. “Do you like jerking off in front of me?”

“Fuck!” He jolted forward, almost breaking his kneel. Even with his wrists tied together, he was able to regain his balance. The hand rubbing his cock was going considerably faster now. 

“I asked you a question, darling.”

“Yes!” he panted. “Yes, Mistress, I like jerking off for you.”

“Mmm.” She didn’t exaggerate her moan as much as she usually did for clients. Belle leaned against the cedar chest and spread her arms and legs wide. She craned her head back to expose her neck. “That is my good boy.”

Theo’s breathing got even heavier. He kept his eyes trained on her face. The dark brown of his eyes were like deep wells. If she slipped into them, how far would she fall? 

“Are you--” he stopped himself, but then seemed to gather up his courage. “Mistress, are you enjoying yourself?” 

Lots of clients asked her that. It wasn’t just that people who paid for her services wanted to please her--though of course plenty did--but more that some men wanted all potential sex partners around them to be exactly as aroused as they were. It was a typical question. But Theo Gold was going to get an answer she would only give to him.

While he was still pumping his cock, while his beautiful eyes were still focused on her face, Belle lifted one hand up in the air. With a slow, lingering wave, she brought it down. His eyes followed the motion. Then she slipped her hand down the waistband of her pants.

Theo gasped, and Belle smirked.

“What?” she asked, all breathy innocence. “The rules said that I could touch you, but you can’t touch me. Nothing about you touching yourself, or me touching myself.” 

Apparently beyond words, Theo let out a high, keening whine. His fist was going at a furious pace over his boxers. It wouldn’t take much longer. If Belle was going to give him a memorable detail, it would have to be now. 

Under her leather pants, Belle wore an ordinary pair of white cotton panties. She owned more risque options, but hadn’t thought they’d be necessary for work today. Her fingers plunged into her pussy and--fuck! She knew she’d be wet, but fuck! She was soaked! If she got to work, she’d be coming with Theo in less than a minute. Fuck!

Belle took a deep breath. She kept her hand still. Later, when she was alone in her apartment, she’d have all the time in the world to relive this moment. Right now, this was about Theo.

When she brought her hand out of her pants, a thick gloss of arousal coated her fingers. 

Theo opened his mouth without being told. “Please,” he whispered. “Oh, please, Mistress!”

Begging for her. On his knees. Jerking off to the thought of making her happy with him. God, she would have a lot to think about later tonight.

With her clean hand, Belle brushed Theo’s hair behind his ears. There was silver at his temple, shining in the darkness like a hidden star. She cupped his cheek and lifted his chin and placed her dripping fingers on his tongue. 

His lips closed around her. He jerked frantically as he began to come. Belle kept her hands on Theo, holding his head against her middle and lightly gagging him with her fingers.

“Yes, sweetheart.” She rocked her body along with his. Clenching, throbbing pleasure pulsed through her veins and she had to press her legs together to contain it. “Come for me, Theo. Come with my taste on your lips!”

He obeyed. Belle watched him, and he was so beautiful. His face screwed up, rigid and anguished. All the tension in his body--and hopefully all the tension in his heart, all the pain he had come here trying to express--gathered together at once. For a breathless moment, it stayed on his face, in the furrow of his brow, in the tightness of his jaw. Then, Theo let out a ragged sob, and everything expelled out of him. He shuddered and shook and Belle held him through it all.

“Good.” She stroked his hair and rocked him back and forth. “That was so good, Theo. You are so good.”  

It didn’t surprise her that he was crying. How long had it been since anyone had told Theo Gold that he was good? Since he had encountered any tenderness in his life? From the rumors about her landlord, he hadn’t dated in well over a decade. How long had it been since he’d had sex with a woman? Or even been close with one? How long had he been alone?

“I’m sorry.” The muffled whimper came from below her waist. “I’m so sorry, Mistress.”

“No,” she soothed him. “No, my Theo, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But--” he broke away to look up at her. Filled with tears, his eyes were even wider and deeper than before. If she fell into his eyes, she would never hit the bottom.

The thought didn’t bother her at all. 

“Shh.” She took his face in both hands, wiped his tears away with her thumbs. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Theo.”

“But, Mistress…” He looked down at the ground, at her boots. 

At the small spurt of white fluid that dotted the black leather. 

Desire rose in a straight line up her body, like the burst of a flame thrower. It consumed her from head to toe. So. His underwear had caught most of his come, but some had escaped. Just a little bit. Just enough to drive them both wild. 

“Oh, Theo.” Without her meaning it to, her voice had lowered by at least an octave. “My dear Theo. Well, that’s far from a bad thing. It was exactly what I wanted you to do. But it is a mess, sweetheart. I think you need to clean it up.”

Eyes closing, Theo bowed his head. He had never gotten up off his knees, and now he crawled on the ground to properly face her.  His bound wrists pressed into the floor as he groveled. As much as Belle wanted to lift up her Theo, she couldn’t deny how lovely he looked in this position.

His breath shook. His body trembled. And still he bent down even lower, and licked his own come off of her boot. 

It was too much. Belle couldn’t bear it anymore. She dropped to her knees and scooped him up into her arms. Slowly, gently, she took his hands and untied the loose knots at his wrists. 

“So good,” she whispered. “You’re so good, my darling.”

Theo was still shaking. He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in the crook of her neck. She held him tightly. Together, they stayed huddled on the blue carpet, safe in a world of their own creation.

After a few minutes, Theo pulled away. He sat up straighter, resting his back against the base of the bench.

“Thank you.” His breathing was calmer now. His voice was steady. “Thank you, Miss French.”  

Her lips quirked up. “You always could have called me Belle, you know. And I think now, I’m really going to have to insist on it.” 

A soft exhale, almost a chuckle. “As you wish, Belle.”

He turned to face her. His tears had dried. The soft, sated, vulnerable look of subspace was fading away from his expression. But he wasn’t as sharp as he had been when he’d come in here. Ghosts still haunted the darkness of his eyes, but he looked more at peace now. He looked happier.

“Belle,” Theo said. “Are your clients allowed to kiss you?”

“No,” she answered. Then Belle pushed in, soft as the brush of a feather, to meet his lips with hers.

It was a small kiss, barely a touch. But if a new day started with nothing but a gray haze on the horizon, maybe something big could start with a small kiss.

She was the first to break the kiss; she had to check in. His face was soft again, almost dreamy. He looked happy. Maybe hopeful.

 “Mr. Gold,” Belle tried, “are you allowed to kiss your tenants?”

“Probably not,” he said. And then he leaned over and kissed her.

This was a more definite kiss. He held her cheek, as she had for him so many times today. His hands were so large, and so warm. Their lips moved together, then opened up for each other. His tongue slipped inside her mouth. She could taste her wetness, mingled with the taste of him. Her desire mixed with Theo’s own heat and will--oh God!

Belle pushed herself away from him. She couldn’t do this. He was a client. It was his first time. They’d spent the last hour with him baring his soul to her and doing everything she said. Aftercare was supposed to be about helping the client get back to the real world. It would only confuse and maybe damage Theo if they couldn’t let go of the illusion. She never should have done a session with someone she already knew, already felt so fondly towards, already wanted so much. 

This was a mistake.

Scrambling to her feet, Belle looked around for Theo’s cane. She handed it to him, and helped him get off the floor. Then she opened the armoire and pulled out the wet wipes and a trash can. She set them on the bench and headed for the door.

“You should get dressed.” She didn’t look at him. “I’ll meet you out in the other room.”

When she dared to glance at Theo, his beautiful eyes were a mixture of confusion and resignation. He was still in his underwear, but his posture had gone rigid. The hard lines of Mr. Gold were back in his face.

“Of course,” was all he said. “Thank you, Miss French.”

****

Gold dressed quickly, with the same thoughtless motions he used every morning. He didn’t feel any different, not anymore. He should have known this wouldn’t work. It was a waste, a fucking waste. Waste of time, waste of money, waste of hope.

It was just as he had feared. The dominatrix had taken him and reduced him to putty in her hands. He had shown her his rawest self, and now that the session was over, she was going to leave him. Drop him, abandon him. 

Just like everyone else he had ever been vulnerable for. 

Gold bit down on his tongue. That wasn’t fair to Belle and he knew it. It was nothing personal. This was her job. He had paid for so much of her time and her expertise. He had gotten as much as they had ever agreed upon, and now the deal was complete. She probably had another appointment scheduled.

A shot of anger flared up in him, at the thought of any other person being near Belle, that there was even a chance of someone else sharing the closeness that she had given to him. He knew he wasn’t special. There was nothing about him that she couldn’t find in a hundred other clients--or even other men. Men who were handsome and young and charming enough to get her attention without having to pay for it. 

He let out a long breath and began to put on his tie. He couldn’t be angry with Belle. He should be grateful that he was able to pay for this experience, that she had taken him as a client at all. She was very good at what she did. All Gold wanted was for it to keep on going. 

Fully dressed, as armored as he could be to face a cold and uncaring world, Theo Gold opened the door into the pale blue room. 

Belle was sitting in the wingback chair, staring into space. Her lovely black riding boots were on either side of the footstool in front of her. Gold had a fleeting image of himself on that stool. Below his mistress, between her legs, doing everything she commanded, everything he could think of to bring her pleasure.

He banished the thought with an anguished dose of reality. She was a dominatrix, not a prostitute. Despite the lines they had tiptoed around today, he couldn’t expect her to treat him like her lover. Even if he scheduled with “Lacey” again, he would never be able to do everything he wanted.

“Hey there.” Belle stood up when she saw him lingering in the doorway. Was he crazy, or did her smile seem sad?

She poured a glass of water from the round little pitcher on the table. When she handed it to him, her fingers brushed over his for just a moment. He drank, grateful to have something to do. Grateful to have an excuse to spend just a few more minutes with her. 

“We have some time,” she said. “Would you like to have a seat? Talk about the session?”

“Why?” It was hardly a word, more an expression of utter bitterness. 

Belle pressed her lips together. She seemed so different in this room. She wasn’t in control here, but neither was he. They were just two people, lost and floundering. Blindly fumbling to try to find what would make them whole. 

“Sometimes it helps people, to talk after a session. We can discuss what you liked, what you didn’t care for. What you might want to do in future sessions?”

He heard the question. But he couldn’t give her the answer he wanted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He couldn’t go through with this again. He couldn’t bear to leave her again. It was better to feel nothing. Maybe it would have been better if he had never come here at all. Whether she was Belle French or Lacey Rose, Gold could never see her again.

“I’m just going to go,” he said. He turned away from her, and went to the door.

“No, wait!” Belle cried. 

This time, she stayed on her side of the room. She didn’t put her hand over his. All the same, Gold stopped. 

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t.

“H-Have you ever had a hamburger at Granny’s Diner? In Storybrooke?”

Gold opened his mouth, but it took a moment before words could come. “Yes,” he managed. “They’re the only good thing on the menu.”

“I think so too!” Belle’s voice was thick with more emotion than the subject really called for. “Everyone raves about the lasagna, but it’s really not--anyway.” With an awkward chuckle, she stopped herself. “Would you like to have a burger sometime? With me?”

He stared at her. “In public?” he asked. “In Storybrooke, where we both live?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll even pay,” she offered. “So you know it’s a real date.”

“A date?” Gold’s heart pounded in his chest. “With you?”

Another nod. “If you want.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, Belle. I would love to go on a date with you.” 

vulnerabilities 

[midnightsconspiracy]

Her Knight In Shining Armour

Her Knight In Shining Armour - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: You’ve told your daughter stories of the valiant Sir Voight, but what happens when she finally meets her hero

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1518

Requested: Yes!

'Can I get a Voight and singlemom!reader? Maybe she just started working in Intelligence and she has a little girl and her daughter adores Hank? Coworkers to Lovers?'

A/N: This turned out so much better than I imagined. And thank you to the person who requested this who waited till my requests opened again for me to write this.

Masterlist

You knew the step up from being a beat cop to detective would be difficult, and not just for yourself personally with the extra workload and hours, but also for your little girl. Being away from each other was always difficult enough, and now with the longer, more unpredictable hours of intelligence, it would make it even worse. Since it was just the two of you, spending time together was so important, wanting to make sure she felt loved and cherished, despite her father leaving her to feel otherwise. But it was part of the job and this was an amazing promotional opportunity you had been given, something that you'd been working towards even before you had birthed your daughter. And you knew she would understand, being the most kind and considerate child you'd ever met, but that still didn't seem to make the ache in your heart any better. At least with the extra income you'd be earning you would finally be able to afford the dream holiday that you two had always fantasised about going on, and the smile that would grace her face would make it all worth it.

Once your first day had passed though you no longer felt the nerves you'd had previously, going home to tell Hannah all the child-friendly details you could remember. Her favourite part had been the story of all the people in the district, making up little characters out of everyone based on their positions and personalities. And just like you, her favourite character in the whole adventure seemed to be the valiant knight, Sir Hank Voight. A brave and noble man who would do anything to help protect and serve his kingdom and the people in it.

He had been the most helpful person during your transition upstairs as well, explaining anything you didn't quite understand at your own pace, without sounding rude or condescending. There were many a day where you would stay behind after everyone else had gone, getting him to help you study for the upcoming detective's exam that you were so desperate to pass the first time. And he happily did so, not caring that it ate into his evening, much rather seeing one of his member pass than spend his nights alone. He was just overall the most perfect boss that you could ask for, allowing you to fully immerse yourself into the team and avoid that awkward newbie phase that you so dreaded. And with so much time that you spend together, you hoped he would consider you more than just someone who worked under him, but rather a friend, just as much as you considered him one.

Today's workday had seemed like any other, a murder case where the victim had been no one of notoriety, but despite this, you had still solved it promptly and with the utmost reverence. And now that you were home, in your little happy bubble of playing with Hannah and telling her glamorised stories of the day you'd had, you finally felt relaxed and content with the life that you now led. Entranced in the little bubble of satisfaction you'd created, you hadn't heard the doorbell ring, only being alerted to someone else's presence after Hannah had already let them in. Looking up from your place on the floor, you spotted Hank in the hallway, conversing with an enamoured looking Hannah. Going out to join them, you learned on the pillar that connected the rooms, smiling at your daughter's reaction at meeting her hero in real life, watching as she retold the stories she'd heard a million times before. Although you were slightly angry at her for letting someone into the house without your permission, you would get over it, especially as the person was someone you both liked.

"Hannah, give the man a break will you," you piped up finally, trying to get Hannah to stop babbling and let the man get a word in edgeways. She had obviously been so overwhelmed by his arrival that she hadn't let him explain his reason for the unexpected visit.

"Sorry Mommy," she replied back, coming over to hug your legs and give her infamous puppy dog eyes, just to make sure you were angry at her. Stroking over her hair to assure her you weren't, you turned to your guest, a confused look on your face, wondering just why he'd shown up so late after hours.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your evening, I came bearing news. But, that can wait, I want to know more about Sir Voight." Looking up at you with a cheeky glint in his eye, Hannah came bounding back over to him, continuing on about the stories of the chivalrous knight.

And that's what she had done for the rest of the evening, bringing him into your living room to show him the toys she'd all named after your colleagues. It was a little embarrassing at first, sitting at a distance from the two of them, her exposing all the fables you told her over the weeks. Especially when she started talking about his one, flourishing the story a little in his favour in hopes it would make him like her more. But in reality, it just made you seem like a schoolgirl, telling everyone just how brave and handsome her crush was. Although you hadn't told Hannah those things yourself, it didn't mean you hadn't thought of it in your own head, just admiring him from afar. He was a good man and one that you truly saw yourself with especially after all the time you'd spent together. And the way he was with Hannah only exemplified this, your fantasy of a perfect little family becoming more vivid. When you really thought about it, it seemed a little creepy, imagining him as the man of your house. But in reality, it was only because of the scar Hannah's father had left behind, never allowing you the chance to have a proper family unit.

Time had flown by as you remained in your own head, looking over at the clock to see that Hannah's bedtime had been over an hour ago. Luckily for you, she was tired herself, allowing you easily excuse yourself to bring her up to bed. All the playing and excitement had worn her out completely, and as you went back downstairs to where Hank waited, you remembered why he was here in the first place, some big news.

"Sorry about her, she gets a little over-excited sometimes," you explained nervously, scared he would think of you differently now that he knew of your stories.

"No, no it's ok, it's nice seeing her happy. Plus she tells me your a very good storyteller," he replied, smiling at your nervous disposition, just happy that he was getting to spend extra time with you and finally meet the girl you had talked about so much.

"Yeah, sorry about that, she just wants to know about work sometimes and I don't know how to tell her in a child-friendly manner." Trying to reason with him, you attempted to make yourself look as normal as possible, still thinking he'd assume you were crazy for it.

"I think it cute, plus Sir Voight is pretty impressive," he stated, showing you just how much he didn't mind your storytelling antics.

"I guess he is." And as much as you wanted to hide your little crush on the man, your cheeks gave you away, blushing at his confession.

"Oh and the news, I just got the email this evening, you passed the exam. Congrats Detective Y/LN."

A smile burst across your face as he revealed the good news, you hadn't even expected to pass thinking you'd failed after taking it let alone receive the good news tonight. In your excitement, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. Because of your sudden movements, he didn't react quick enough, causing you to pull away equally as quickly surprised at your own affections. Once again you'd embarrassed yourself.

"Sorry I didn't m-mean," you said, retracting your arms, making yourself as small as possible. But instead of reacting how you expected him to have, he bought you back into his arms, whispering another congratulation into your ear. At that you moved your arms to circle his neck again, getting lost in the warmth of his affection. Pulling away slightly, he stared into your gaze, a smile playing on his lips.

"You deserve this Y/N, you really do," he said, placing his hand onto your cheek and stroking comfortingly. Leaning forward he finally went to kiss you, pouring out every emotion you'd both had bottled up since you'd met. And neither of you would have stopped if it weren't for the sudden interruption, Hannah appearing at the top of the stairs, captivated that her mother and hero were kissing.

"Are you and Sir Hank finally together now?" She asked, causing both of you to laugh at her sudden question. Looking at each other to confirm the answer, you both came to an agreement, yes, yes you were.

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

Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @chazubagi @scarletsoldierrr@cindydoll2 @anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler @yosoynicolexo @prettypsychoinpink @mollyc70 @maisie20

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[yeoandmoon]

you are now listening to graceland too by phoebe bridgers! ( yeosang x f!reader )

fluff, burnout!yeosang, bassist!yeosang, writer!reader, childhood friends 2 lovers but also idiots 2 lovers, yeosang and reader run away, seongjoong are engaged, wooyoung + yeonjun have a band, there is only one bed, yeosang has a nose ring, it’s implied reader has a bad relationship with her mother, wc is 3.1k

NOTE: happy yeosang day! this was a doozy to write, but i hope you all enjoy it! its based off one of my favourite phoebe bridgers songs! :)

There’s a mural on the wall of the hotel lobby. It’s a warm toned painting of a forest, with a hint of a bright blue sky peeking out from the top of the trees. There’s a moose standing at the forefront of the mural, and a little fox sleeping on a rock towards the bottom, surrounded by colourful flowers and leaves.

The mural confused you, if you were being honest. The hotel you worked the night audit at was situated in the busy downtown centre of the city you lived in, and there were barely any forests for miles around the city - let alone any wildlife, like moose or foxes. Hongjoong said it was to make guests feel more ‘in touch with nature’ and to help people forget about the ‘problems of the real world’, while Yeosang claimed it was ‘just another scam in the tourist trap’.

You, on the other hand, was sure the mural was put there to torture you. You would spend nights having staring contests with the moose (which, to your surprise, you always lost), or you would spend hours on Google with Hongjoong trying to find out what species of fox the sleeping fox was (you were sure it was a cape fox, while Hongjoong swore up and down that it was a gray fox). The blue sky between the trees teased you; a reminder that most of your days were spent in the library at your university, or in this dimly lit lobby.

Sometimes, it felt like the only time you saw the sunshine was when you were with Yeosang.

Despite the occasional burnout and the lack of seeing sun most days, you didn’t mind the job. You were always more of a night person, and your classes were always later in the day so you did manage to pull in some sleep. Due to the late hours, you usually only dealt with customers in the first hour or two of your shift, and most of that was just directing confused Ubereats delivery people and pretty Tinder dates to hallways and rooms. It was the perfect job to work on your writing, and get your school work out of the way without listening to your mother cry about how you’re throwing your life away like your sister.

Plus, you could think of a hundred worse people to spend the night shift with than the nighttime valet, Hongjoong. Hongjoong often kept you occupied with his latest reforms and art projects, and stories about his fiancee, Seonghwa & their friend, Yunho (who he kept insisting you needed to go on a date with).

“Your emo boy is coming.”

Well, you could think of ninety-nine worse people to spend the night shift with than Hongjoong, who sat next to you at the check-in desk.

You scoff, “He’s not my emo boy.” You mumble, glancing at the street entrance to see Yeosang walk in with an ice coffee on hand.

Despite your words, Kang Yeosang was your person (you wouldn’t quite use the term ‘emo boy’, even if it did fit), and he had been since your family moved in next door to his family when you two were children. Although your friendship lately had been reduced to these late night meetings while you two were on break on your respective graveyard shifts (you at the hotel and Yeosang at the convenience store down the block, of course) and occasional meetings in the garden when you were both running errands for your families, you still considered Yeosang one of your dearest memories.

It was hard not too, you suppose. He had been there for many of your firsts, and was always cheering you on. Yeosang always made you feel powerful and important - like a powerful heroine, and not his bratty next door neighbor who cried on his doorstep after being dumped by her first year partner. He always made you feel wanted.

Yeosang grinned at you as he stepped into the lobby (if your heart fluttered in your chest, you ignored it). He had on a backwards dad cap, and he had recently changed his nose ring out for the gold hoop San had bought him for his birthday. You could just faintly see his birthmark peeking out from where his bleach blonde hair curled under the hat.

“Hello, Sunshine.” He greets you, setting the coffee down on your desk.

You set the pen you were holding down, “Hi Yeosang.”

Upon first glance at Yeosang, you can tell he’s buzzing about something. He’s leaning over the check-in counter and chewing on his lip while making small talk with Hongjoong about the tourist season.

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your coffee as Yeosang turns back to you, “Do you remember Wooyoung and Yeonjun?”

You nearly choke on your coffee at the mention of your other neighbor and ex-boyfriend. Wooyoung had moved onto your street a few years after you had, and quickly became apart of the little bond you and Yeosang had formed. He moved to the coast with Yeonjun, your ex, the first chance they had gotten, but Wooyoung’s family remained in the neighborhood.

“I babysat Woo’s brother the other day…” You watched your friend, “Did something happen? Mrs Jung didn’t say anything the other day.”

Yeosang grins, and it’s his scheming grin, “Their band got signed,” He tells you, “They need a new bassist, and Wooyoung showed them that video you took of me from that show last month. Their label wants me to come down; play a few shows with them, record a couple demos. See if we have chemistry, basically.”

Your eyes widen - both out of excitement and fear. You were happy and excited for Yeosang! This is the opportunity he had been wanting for years, but you were also terrified.

You were terrified in a horrible, selfish way because you knew if Yeosang left to join Wooyoung and Yeonjun, he’d never come back to you.

“That’s… That’s great, Yeo!” You manage a grin whilst trying to shove the selfish thoughts away, “When do they want you there?”

Yeosang’s smile falters, just for a moment but you still catch it, “Monday.”

“F-Five days?”

He nods, “I’m leaving Saturday morning, so I can be there Sunday afternoon.”

You can see it in his eyes; he’s terrified too.

Before you can say anything else, Yeosang leans over the check-in counter and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I have to get back to work, Sunshine.” He tells you, his voice quiet as if he’s giving you a secret, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s already halfway down the lobby when you swear and move out of your chair, you quickly call his name as you move out from behind the desk. You rush over to where he’s standing, and look up at him. He’s confused.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when you pull him into a tight hug, “I’m proud of you, Yeo.”

Yeosang wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His chest is warm, and you’re sure you could spend hours here. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head, “I know, Sunshine.” He pulls away, his hand on your arm, “I really do have to go, though. I’m already late for work.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around your torso as you watch him leave the hotel and turn down the street to go back to the convenience store. When you turn back around, Hongjoong is watching you with an amused look on his face.

You glare at him as you walk back to the desk, “Don’t you have a fiance to call, or something?”

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

You were tired.

Friday nights were always busy, but tonight was draining and loud and you could only take so much of Miss Liu’s incessant phone calls about mundane things at 3am. All you wanted to do was go home, and fall into your bed and sleep for hours.

Hongjoong didn’t help your mood either. It was an innocent question about Yeosang, asking if you’d seen him since he visited you on his break but it pushed your mood down to a low point. You had been so busy the past few days, and if you were being honest with yourself, you had been avoiding Yeosang.

You weren’t ready to see him leave. You knew it was selfish, but you figured avoiding Yeosang was easier than admitting you didn’t want him to leave you behind. You would just simply watch his life through Instagram and consider the ‘what-ifs’ in your life.

You shouldered your tote bag after clocking out before yelling a good-bye to Hongjoong. You could see the beginning rays of morning sun hitting the other buildings in the downtown core as you stepped out the employee doors, and then you were hit by the sight of Yeosang leaning against one of the pillars.

Your eyes widen, “Yeosan-”

“Come with me.”

You stop. Your words are left in your throat, “W-Wh… Go with you? To the coast?”

Yeosang nods, “Come with me,” He steps forward, taking your hands in his, “What do you have here? A degree you don’t care about? A job you hate?”

You frown, running over his words in your head, “I-I have my mom. And… I have Hongjoong!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Y/N, Sunshine… Your mom will barely notice you’re gone, and Hongjoong can visit us.” He cupped your cheek.

You’re so busy having an internal crisis you hardly notice the usage of ‘us’. You’re considering the logistics in your head. Yeosang was right; you didn’t care about your degree, and all it would take was an email saying you quit for them to find a new front desk person. Your mom would be upset for a few weeks. She’d probably make some passive aggressive Facebook posts about you before acting like your best friend again.

“Yeosang…” You look up at him, your hand coming up to circle around his wrist.

“Your sister is there, and you could write everyday.” Yeosang adds on, “I did the math, Y/N. Between the two of us, we’d have 6 months to figure it out. 6 months, and we’ll come back here if nothing works out.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“Sunshine, I promised I’d show you the stars, didn’t I?”

You gasp at the promise. It was a silly promise he had made when you were both kids; something you’d almost forgotten about.

It hits you quickly: there’s no one else you’d rather run away with. There’s no one else you’d trust to run away with.

You look up at Yeosang, “Yes.”

He grins, “Yes?”

You nod, “Yes, Yeo. I’ll go with you.”

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

An hour. An hour was how long it took for you to turn your life upside down for Kang Yeosang.

In an hour, you had emailed your program advisor and told them you wouldn’t be returning for the next semester, and you had called your manager and told them you wouldn’t be coming in for your next shift, or any shift after that (which was promptly followed by a phone call from Hongjoong, who seemed more excited about this than you were). You had packed up most of your clothes and important belongings, and they were loaded into the back of Yeosang’s shitty car. You left a note for your mother, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Yeosang’s car.

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

You had fallen asleep barely an hour into the car ride. 

The rolling hills and fields outside your window made your eyes feel heavier, but you tried staying awake to keep Yeosang company.

“Go to sleep, Sunshine.” He tells you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yeosang’s promise was all it took for you to succumb to your exhaustion.

You don't usually remember your dreams. Though today, there are flashes of a beach, and a smile that takes your breath away. There are blue skies and if you try hard enough, you can just faintly smell sea salt.

You wake up hours later, smiling. True to his word, Yeosang is still there when you wake. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio.

Yeosang smiles when he notices you’re awake, “I talked to your mother.”

Your eyes widen, “You talked to who?”

He laughs, “You didn’t answer your phone, so she called me.”

You frown, glancing at your phone in the free cup holder. You could imagine the amount of calls and texts that were in there.

“She wasn’t very happy.” Yeosang continues, “She wants you to call her when we get there.”

You nod, “Thank you, Yeo.” You say softly, looking over at him.

Yeosang throws you a smile, “Of course.”

“Not just for talking to my mom…” You watch him, “For not leaving me behind, too. Thank you.”

Yeosang reaches over, taking your hand, “I’d never leave you behind, Sunshine. You’d have to try really hard to get rid of me.”

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

The car ride was long, and full of Yeosang’s early 2000s emo playlist & fast food. You called your sister, who was ecstatic to hear about your plans and had immediately offered you and Yeosang her beach house. She made a comment about how ‘she always knew you two would end up together’, and it made your heart flutter when you glanced at Yeosang.

Yeosang told you about Wooyoung’s band, and how excited he was to play with Wooyoung. You smiled, listening to him fondly talk about your old friends and their music.

It was getting late though, and you could see it in Yeosang’s face that he was getting tired.

“We should stop for the night.” You tell him, “You’ve been driving since 6am, Yeo.”

He huffs, “We could drive through the night.” He proposes, “We’d make it to your sister’s place in a few hours.”

You frown, “Or... We could stop for the night, shower, and then leave first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get there by noon tomorrow.”

Yeosang glances at you, going to protest. He ends up yawning instead, his nose wrinkling slightly, “Fine.” He pouts.

You laugh, reaching for your phone to google the closest hotels. There's a comfortable silence in the car, filled with the occasional beat of Yeosang’s fingers on the steering wheel. You feel at ease, even if it's just for a moment.

“There’s a motel off the next exit.” You tell him, stifling a yawn of your own.

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

Sure enough, there had been a motel off the next exit. It was small and slightly rundown, but cheap and had an available room. You waited in the car while Yeosang went into the check-in office, promising to be back in a moment.

He came back dangling a key in his hand, and a slight frown on his face as he opened the car door to let you out.

“So... There’s only one bed.” He broke the news, a blush growing up his cheeks, “It’s all they had, unless we wanted to drive another hour down the highway.”

Your eyes widen, “O-Oh.” You glance at the key, and then back up at Yeosang, “I’ll sleep on the floor, or something.”

Yeosang frowns, shaking his head, “We can share for one night, Sunshine. I think it’ll be okay.”

Which leads you to here; lying almost nose to nose with Yeosang. Your hair was soaking wet from a shower in the tiny bathroom and the small motel bed wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t seem to mind as you took in the man in front of you. You pushed the strands of bleach blonde hair out of his face, and your fingers softly lingered on the birthmark next to his eye.

His breath stuttered, “Y/N,” He says, his voice a mere whisper, “We’re free.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek. Your eyes lingered on his lips before you caught yourself, moving your gaze back up to his eyes.

Yeosang only smiled at you. He gently held your wrist as he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on your palm, “I’m going to kiss you now, Sunshine.”

“Yes please.”

You felt every nerve in your body light up when Yeosang kissed you.

A small part of your brain told you that this is where you’re meant to be: in Yeosang’s arms.

You felt this way the first time Yeosang had kissed you too, all the way back on that roof in 11th grade. You two had been talking about the future; about your writing and Yeosang’s music. You looked up at the hazy night sky, and you asked Yeosang if you’d ever get to see the stars.

He smiled at you, telling you that he would show them to you one day before he kissed you so sweetly.

Yeosang still kissed you sweetly. He kissed you like you held the secrets of the universe in your hand for him to take.

You pulled away, “I think I love you.”

He smiles against your lips, rubbing soft circles into your wrist, “I think I love you too, baby.”

—————-

You had this assumption that the next morning would be awkward; that you would be stuck for the next 6 months with someone you could barely look in the eye because of a late night confession.

Instead, you awoke to Yeosang kissing your head and placing a bagel & ice coffee down for you. He had quickly ushered you into the shower, before you put on a change of clothes and were quickly led out to the car between bites of your bagel. This all happened over Yeosang telling you how you only had a few hours before you reached your sister’s beach house, and he wanted to try and make good time so you could enjoy the beach today.

You giggled at his antics before settling into the passenger’s seat for the last few hours of your journey.

You sipped your ice coffee as you watched out the window. The countryside on the highway zoomed by you, and the car was full of sunlight from Yeosang’s sunroof being open. There was a Fall Out Boy song on the radio, and you felt a sense of calm brush over you as Yeosang took your hand in his.

The sunshine had never felt so nice on your skin as Yeosang pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

taglist: @vanishingboots @sunsethw4​ 

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 8

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut 

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

For Baekhyun, the first half of the week was spent preparing. For the first date of all first dates. A first date that would be heart flutteringly romantic, yet private and comfortable. Exciting, but also intimate. Something where he could talk to you, where he could touch you if he wants, where nobody else could see and judge. But also somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to bend you over and take you if you decided to start teasing him again. That would need to wait until after the date, for which he also had big plans. 

 Endless phone calls were made. Flowers, chocolates, and champagne needed to be bought. His mind was set, this date would be nothing short of perfect. So perfect in fact, that you would have no choice but to fall for him the same way he’d fallen for you. The man was dedicated. 

First though, he needed to ask you in a way that would guarantee a yes Baekhyun, I would love to go on a date with you, and not just an ‘okay’. 

His first stop was the florist, owned by his friend Minseok. It was a quaint little shop where he knew he’d be able to get a perfect custom arrangement with all your favorite flowers. Little did you know Baekhyun had used his professor status to look up Mia’s school email, and had been in contact with her in order to make sure he got the best possible things to fit your preferences.  

“Lilies and roses, those are her favorites. As many of them as you’ll give me.”

Minseok ended up putting together a box, a wide white cylinder overflowing with lilies and roses in all shades of white, red, and pink. It was big, a bit extravagant, and quite expensive. But Baekhyun did not care, if anything he was trying to go as over the top as possible, to really show how much he cared and wanted to make this special. No purchase was too large, no gift too much. 

The chocolates were imported from Switzerland. A large box with endless flavor varieties, each one more delicious than the last. The last time he’d had them had been on vacation in Europe, and it was not so easy for him to get his hands on them outside of the EU. But after a few phone calls, he had them on their way over with 2-day shipping. 

Baekhyun wasn’t one to usually spend much money at all. Not because he didn’t have it, he just didn’t feel the need. He had a nice home and a nice car. There wasn’t anything he regularly bought, aside from food. Most purchases would either be related to movies and games online, or would be for his friends. 

But he loved spending money on you, because for the first time in his life there was a girl who cared about more than just his family’s wealth. You actually cared about him. He’d never wanted to spoil someone like this before out of fear that they might only stick around for the financial benefits, but that didn’t worry him when it came to you. He found it almost laughable that after so many years of dating ‘proper’ women, women his family would’ve liked, women who looked great on paper but brought him no excitement and used him for his money, he finally found someone who actually cared for him at a strip club. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways, he told himself. 

Once the chocolates had arrived and he had acquired the flowers, it was time to get going. 

~

Wednesday afternoon you and Mia decided to put away your homework for a while and bake something together. Apple pie was the agreed upon project for the day. You were in the process of slicing up the apples when you started to wonder just what was taking Baekhyun so long, after all he’d already told you he was going to ask you out. Why couldn’t he just do it? 

“I wonder why Baekhyun still hasn’t actually asked me on a date yet, he said he was going to on Saturday and it’s Wednesday. Do you think he might’ve changed his mind?” 

Mia had to work to hold back her smile. Not only did she know when he planned on coming to ask, she knew the exact flowers and chocolates he was bringing, as well as the date and time of the date itself, all of which Baekhyun had carefully discussed with her. 

“He definitely hasn’t changed his mind, that’s for sure. He’s probably just taking his time to make sure it’s special.” 

“He’s only asking me on a date. He could literally just text me. It’s not like I’ll say no anyway.” 

At that, Mia couldn’t help but crack up. Maybe that was the norm for college guys, but Baekhyun? Ask you in a text? After everything he’d done? It was laughable. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing!” Mia said and put two hands up in the air in defense, but you’d known your best friend for long enough to tell when she was lying. 

“You know something. Tell me.” You demanded, taking your apple slicing knife and pointing it towards her. 

“Get that away from me! And my lips are sealed, sorry.” 

No matter how much you annoyed her about it, she wasn’t going to tell you. Not only was she sworn to secrecy, she wanted you to enjoy the surprise. 

“Come on, did he say something to you? Just tell me.” 

“I’m not saying anything. You’ll just have to see, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait.” 

“You are so evil.” 

“You still love me” 

The pie was eventually assembled and put into the oven, at which point you returned back to your own room to continue doing homework. Mia stayed out in the living room, since she knew there was a guest arriving shortly. 

~

It was finally time for Baekhyun to go to your house to ask. After approximately 30 minutes of just making sure his hair looked right, he finally grabbed the chocolates and flowers and got on his way. 

It was a pretty warm day, but even with the AC blasting as high as it would go Baekhyun was still sweating. He knew you would say yes, but his hands felt slippery on the steering wheel of his car anyway. It had been almost 5 years since he had last done this, since he had asked a girl out. It had been even longer since he’d asked someone out that he was actually excited to spend time with, and really hoped would say yes. 

The closer he got to your home, the more nervous he became. He couldn’t even explain to himself why. He knew you were home, he knew you would say yes, he knew you were free the day he was going to take you out, and he knew he had the perfect gifts. This was exactly why he’d interrogated Mia via email for days, but when it actually came down to it he couldn’t help worrying. What if you were mad that it took him so long to ask and wouldn’t wanna go anymore? What if something came up last minute and you wouldn’t be able to? He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take a response like that. Especially since setting up the date itself had been a whole other story, one that not even Mia knew about. 

Baekhyun could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he got the chocolates and flowers out of his trunk and started walking up to your front door. When he knocked, Mia was the one to answer. 

“Hi Baekhyun!” She said, looking him up and down, and then to the flowers and chocolates he was holding, a wide grin on her face. “I’ll go get her.” 

You heard your name being yelled from the living room so you peeled your thighs off your desk chair and made your way into the common space to see Baekhyun, holding the most enormous flower arrangement you’d ever seen. 

Mia went to her room, leaving you standing before him, slightly flabbergasted. 

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner, but can I take you out on Saturday?” He asked, peeking over the mountain of flowers that hid the bottom of his face. 

You immediately grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pulling Baekhyun through the doorway. You grabbed the flower arrangement and set it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch with him. 

“I would’ve asked days ago already but I wanted to bring these too and it takes a little while for them to get shipped from Switzerland.” 

The flowers had distracted you so much you hadn’t even noticed the box of chocolates he was holding as well. 

“Baekhyun this is crazy, how much did all of this cost?” 

He only rolled his eyes. “You know none of that matter, I just want to make you happy, okay? And you like them right?” 

“Well of course I love chocolate, and the flowers are beautiful, roses and lilies are my favorites.” 

“I know.” He grinned at you.

“I never told you that?” 

“I might’ve found your friend’s school email...” 

Your eyes widened. “You did not-” 

“Professors have access to every students files and that includes school email addresses, and you mentioned her a few times so I figured I would ask her some stuff.” His hand made its way to the back of his neck and he looked down at the ground nervously. “Sorry if that’s weird, I just wanted to make sure I’d get the right things and that you wouldn’t already be busy or anything.” 

You smiled “It’s alright, this is definitely the most anyone's ever done for me for a first date, or any date for that matter, sorry if I don’t really know how to act right now.” 

“Nobody’s ever bought you flowers or chocolates before? Really? Are those boys you go to school with that dumb?” 

“I don’t really date around much anyway, and maybe once or twice for valentines day or something, but definitely never like this.”

“Well you deserve to be showered in flowers and chocolates all the time.” He smiled and grabbed the box and untied the fancy looking ribbon holding it together, and removed the lid. “Try one, this stuff is crazy, no other chocolate has been the same since I first tried it on vacation in the alps a few years ago.”

Of course he went on fancy European vacations. You wondered if someday you’d get to tag along. 

He picked a piece and held it up to your mouth and you took it between your lips. He was right, it was amazing. 

“Oh my god this is so good. Holy shit.” He was right, this would pretty much ruin all other chocolate for you. 

He watched you as you finished eating it and placed a hand on your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. “Give me a taste.” 

He pulled you in for a slow open mouthed kiss, savoring the flavor of the chocolate on your tongue and leaving you breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get used to the way he kissed you. He was so good at making you feel like your insides were melting with desire it felt almost dangerous. 

“You’re intoxicating, I could kiss you all day.” He said as he pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak. You could feel his breath on your face and his eyes as they bore into your own. 

“Oh come on you’re just saying that because of the chocolate.” You laughed as you pulled away further, face now a bright shade of pink. 

“The chocolate is amazing, but your lips are even better.”

“God you’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he still just smiled back. “So where are you taking me Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise, I’ll pick you up here around 3:00 and it’ll be a bit of a drive but I promise it’ll be well worth it.” 

“Can you give me a hint at least? Will there be food? What should I wear?” 

“Yes there will be food, and just wear something comfortable and weather appropriate.”  He considered it for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be too obvious. “It’s an outdoor thing, and something I’m almost 100% sure you’ve never done before, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so mean.” You pouted. “You make me wait for days and now you won’t even say where you’re taking me.” You really wondered what was so special that he couldn’t just tell you. It was only a first date so it wouldn’t be anything that extravagant anyway right? 

“Once you see you’ll understand why I want to keep it secret, just trust me, okay?” You rolled your eyes again, “Hey, y/n, look at me.” 

He put his hand on your thigh before giving you a serious look. “I know this might not seem like that big of a deal to you, but it’s been over 5 years since I’ve taken someone out like this, and even longer since I’ve been this excited to. I just, I really want to make this special, so can you trust me?”  

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Of course, I'm impatient is all... And I haven’t really done this in a while either...” 

“It’s really shocking to me how someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have a constant stream on boys trying to take you out.” You chucked, and thought back to Lucas and how he’d asked you to a party. 

“Me and college boys don’t really mix well, I’m not someone who enjoys big parties and they usually aren’t really interested in getting to know me anyway, or once they do they realize I’m just a boring STEM major. You saw that guy Lucas, I’m sure he was just hoping I’d go party with him and get wasted enough to end up in his bed. No thank you.” 

“He was so pushy too.” Baekhyun said as his face fell into a frown at the unpleasant memory. 

“Boys will ask me out sometimes, sure, but it’s always just to a party or a movie or something, somewhere you can’t really have any kind of meaningful conversation anyway, so I assume they just want to sleep with me. And I’m not really interested in that.” 

“You seemed more than happy to let me rail you in my office last week.” Baekhyun laughed, making your face blush an even deeper shade of red.

“That’s different!” You said in defense, giving a light slap to his shoulder. “You’re not some college boy, and we have technically known each other for a while already.” 

Baekhyun had a wide smile plastered on his face again, “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who had to keep it from happening.” 

“Which I still think was pretty lame of you...” 

He caught your eyes again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Baby I’ll make sure that was worth the wait too.” 

You shivered, and as soon as he had pulled away you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap. The two of you sat like that for a while, exploring each other’s mouths, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it. Eventually you ended up laying down next to one another, still kissing lazily in each other’s embrace. You knew better than to escalate it into anything sexual now, so you just enjoyed the softness of his lips on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

After some time Baekhyun had to go, and you thanked him again for the chocolates and flowers. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia emerged from her bedroom. 

“See! I told you he’d ask soon! Also, he’s even cuter in person.” She giggled and you laughed in agreement. 

“Did he seriously email you about me? What all did he say?” 

“He asked about your favorite everything pretty much, when you’d be home this week for him to ask you, when you’d have time over the weekend, all that. I assumed you wouldn’t mind missing work for the date so I told him Saturday night.” 

“Was there anything else? Any idea where he’s taking me?”

“No, I asked but he wouldn’t tell me either. It was really cute though, the way he was talking about you. He’s seriously whipped.” 

“You don’t say.” You laughed gesturing towards the huge flower arrangement and box of chocolates still on the coffee table. 

“You have to tell me where he takes you, I’m really curious. Did he tell you anything?” 

“Just that it’s outdoors and I don’t need to dress fancy.”

You could tell Mia was thinking, trying to figure what it might be the same way you had. “A picnic maybe?” 

“That feels almost not fancy enough for him, but I don’t know. I really can’t think of anything outdoorsy that nice.” 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out! Come on, let’s cut into this pie.” 

The evening was spent eating pie, and with Mia showing you Baekhyun’s emails to her. They made you feel like your heart might explode from the sweetness and consideration he had when planning everything. He’d even made sure to get you milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate. There were a plethora of other seemingly unrelated questions as well, including your favorite snack foods, colors, and more. You felt a little bad for how much he’d asked her about. 

As the hours went by, you were looking forward to the date more and more.

 Saturday afternoon couldn’t arrive soon enough. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this one is late and a bit short, but the next update will be *much* more exciting I promise ;) 

[gh0stfacesho3]

Transfer of Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Gender Non-Specific Reader

Word Count: +3.5k 

Warning: Fluff, mild angst. Professor x Student (College Au, all characters are +18), language, mention of abuse, mention of alcohol. 

Summary: As a Professor in the states, you were used to transfer students. You weren’t exactly ready for this new transfer student who is the son of the owner of Mike Sneakers (we don’t do free sponsors here ) 

   You were especially used to transfer students because you had a doctorate in linguistics. Being this, you knew a plethora of languages, from English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, Greek, Latin, and a few native languages. You were always fascinated by languages and how people came up with these mixes of characters and words to make beautiful phrases. Since you were a kid you started to learn other languages. You had a French neighbor in your old hometown which is where you picked it up at age 7. Then, when you were 10, your family took a trip to Mexico which is when you became interested by Spanish. You fully understood the language by age 11 due to your prior knowledge of French. Then this process just continued where you would just learn languages mainly for fun. This lead to you being a linguistics professor who also taught second languages and would take in quite a few transfer kids. This lead to the journey of Jeon Jungkook and it was definitely a wild one. 

   You walked into your office at about 9:00 and placed your laptop onto the desk. You straighten up your outfit before settling in and getting to work. As you looked through your emails, you noticed an email that was about another transfer student. You kind of glanced over it, but didn’t pay too much mind to it, assuming it was just another kid from out of country. As 10:00 started to roll around, your students walked in. Some smiled, others chugged some unhealthy energy drink, some even chatted with you before finding their seats. As everyone found their seats, you looked out to see a new student. 

“You, new kid, come up front and do that cringe introduction.” You chuckle, emitting a chuckle from a few kids. He tilts his head in confusion, probably because he doesn’t speak English. Due to your gesture though, he assumes you want him to introduce himself. 

“You don’t already know who I am?” He whispered loud enough for you to hear in his first language. 

“Actually, no, I don’t.” You responded quickly as you clasped your hands before beckoning him to the front again. He was a little shocked that you spoke Korean so well, being he had no prior information on you. You were used to kids who thought they were all that but something about this kid who was ‘dressed to impress’ rubbed you the wrong way. He walks down to the front and rolls his eyes at you. 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook...23. Korean” He said in English the best he could. You smiled and introduced yourself. 

“I’m Professor Y/L/N, find your seat now.” You responded before turning to the large chalk board and continuing your lesson. After the two hour lecture, you dismissed class. Jungkook was asleep in the back, which made you walk up to him and nudge him. 

“Its lunch time, go eat.” You say as he wakes up. He shrugged off your hand before collecting his things. 

“Filthy commoner.” He mumbled as he shoved past you. You would’ve been insulted if it were true, but it wasn’t. You collect your things and head out to your favorite cafe. Being it was a Tuesday, that class was the only one you had for the day so you treated yourself to some coffee. You notice a bit of commotion outside, but you try to ignore it and sneak inside. 

“Y/N Y/L/N!! IS IT TRUE YOU’RE TEACHING JEON JUNGKOOK?!” 

“Y/N?!?!”

“DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT JUNGKOOK?” 

You were confused by all the bombarding questions so you ran into the café and shut the door along with someone else. You turned to see the brat himself, Jeon Jungkook. 

“What mess have you fuckin brought me into?” You huffed as your back pressed against the door. 

“I didn’t do anything! I just went for a walk and got lost!” He huffed back at you. 

“Why are you so popular?” You asked as you held your hand on your forehead. 

“Ugh, you’re a horrible teacher if you can’t read a simple email. I’m the son of the owner of Mike tennis shoe company.” He responded. You rolled your eyes as stood up and walked in line, happy to see police shows up to wrangle up paparazzi. 

“What? Don’t care about my father’s company?” He mumbled. You go to order your drink and the barista looks confused. You realized you just ordered in Korean. You apologized before trying again. After you pay, Jungkook walks up and tried to get a drink. 

“C-coffee?” He basically asked, leaving the barista to ask a series of question. Jungkook looks over to you for help, making you chuckle. 

“Why should I help? You called me a shitty teacher.” You faked being offended which made Jungkook embarrassed. 

“I’ll pay for you.” He said, making you more than willing to help him. Being you already bought your drink, he just handed you a 20 like it was nothing. 

“That's way to much money Jungkook.” You said as you grabbed your coffee and went to hand him the money back. 

“It’s nothing to me and my father always says to help the less fortunate.” He said before drinking his coffee, which intern made you laugh. 

“You’re a brat but you’re a cool kid.” You say as you sit down and he follows. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he does the same back. 

“Who said you could sit with me?” Making him tilt his head. 

“Who said you got here first?” Jungkook barked back at you. You held your hands up in defense. 

“You’re going to have to get used to me being I will probably be your living translator...also whos your host family?” You waited for his response as you took a sip of your coffee. 

“I-...I’m not sure.”

“You didn’t check your email?” You teased like he did you which seemed to piss him off. 

“I can’t fuckin read English!” Which made you shocked. How could a school send this kid an email in a language he doesn’t know. You hold your hand out for his phone which he reluctantly gives to you. You mumble out the email before getting to the important part. 

“Your father has entrusted Professor Y/N with your care being they have the most experience with transfer students.” You were used to hosting kids but you thought someone of such class would be with, well you didn’t know, maybe someone the kid knew? 

“With you?” He almost sounded disgusted. You were actually upset that you didn’t read that email but you had a rough weekend. 

You sighed, “Look kid-”

“I’m not a kid!” He fussed. He was right. He said he was 23 and so were you. (Seems young for being a professor right, you’re just pretty smart and graduated early) 

“Okay, sorry. But look, you either live with me for the what, 3 months you’re gonna be here? Or ask your daddy for money to live in a hotel for 3 months.” You teased, making him sigh. 

“I’m not talking to him...that's why he sent me here.” Jungkook looked down at his now empty iced coffee. 

You stood up and patted his shoulder. “Then suck it up buttercup. Lets go get your shit and move you in.” 

“Want me to call an Uver?” The boy asked. (again, no free sponsors in this house).

“Nope. My car isn’t too far from here.” You smiled as you walked closer to the college campus. You turned before getting to campus and walked up to the car park. 

He pointed to an abandoned car that has been there for years, “Is that yours?” he teased. 

You smiled as you pulled out your key fob, clicking the unlock button to see a black lambo unlock. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and stared in awe. 

“Come on pretty boy, not scared are you?” You smiled as you hopped in. He scurried into the car with a wide smile. 

“Here I was thinking you were some poor teacher.” 

“I’m a professor first of all, second” you start the engine with a loud purr, “I have my perks.”  You smirked. 

Its been about a month since Jungkook has been moved in. One day y’all were sitting at the table, awkwardly eating dinner like you guys did every night when he got a phone call. You have never seen him smile since the first time he got in the car and besides that, he’s been a pain in your ass more than anything. Good thing is, he’s actually learned quite a bit of English and can order his food in public. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him fussing. 

“No Dad! Please you can’t make me stay here! I am studying and doing my work! This isn’t fair!” He argued, pacing back in forth before heading to his room which was a guest room. “YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP ME IN AMERICA BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO TAKE CARE OF ME. MY PROFESSOR ISN’T MY BABY SITTER, THEY HAVE THEIR OWN LIFE WHICH IS BETTER WITHOUT ME!....you were only right about one thing dad... I’m a bother to everyone around me.” Jungkook finished before in went quiet. You didn’t know what to say. He knew he was being difficult because he wanted to be. He wants you to be upset and kick him out so he can go home. He wants to be out of you hair. You walked to his room and knocked, and saw something you never saw you see. Tears. 

“W-what?!” He sniffled as he turned around and rubbed his eyes. You just walked up to him and turned him around, pulling him into a hug. He was reluctant at first before he finally gave in. 

“You’re a brat yes, but you’re not a bother. And if you’d stop distancing yourself, we might be able to make this extended time more enjoyable.” Was the only thing you could say. 

“I’m sorry I’m so mean to you...I just thought if maybe,”

“Maybe if I got annoyed enough I’d kick you out so you could go home?” He nodded to your question. 

“Welp, I’m a tough cookie to crack.” You smiled as you pulled away. 

“God we are the same age but you talk like a 80 year old.” He laughed as he wiped his face again. 

The two of you then go and talk about him and his life back at home. He explains how his grades are slipping and that is why he is forced to stay here longer. How he doesn’t like going to college because it’s not what he wants to do in life. Jungkook explained that he wanted to be a singer and even showed you a few songs he has covered and composed. They were really good in actuality. You agreed with him if he can get English down pat and pick his grades up, you’d help him peruse his career. 

-

It’s now been 3 months and Jungkook is basically speaking fluent English. He is also passing all your classes and is starting to open up to you a lot more. It was Spring break so you decided to go out with a few friends to get a drink. You invited Jungkook but he said he wanted to finish a paper he got an extension on so you just went out on your own. You and all your friends were dancing in the club and downing drinks like fish. You may have gotten a little too drunk being it was your first night out by yourself. Jungkook recently started to get more friends so you had some free time, but you haven’t gone out since he got here which is why you let yourself get as drunk as you did. It was towards the end of the night and the bouncer would not let you out with your keys due to how drunk you were. 

“Move you b-big bo-ouf...” You stumbled as you tried to squeeze past him. He grabbed your arm and pushed you back. You huffed before pulling out your phone and smashing keys in and calling whoever popped up. 

“Professor? Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, concerned as to why you called him after not responding to his text asking when you’d be home. 

“I-im dr-drunk and this fuckin cunt won’t let me out.” You whined as you still tried to squeeze past him. “Don’t-...Don’t fuckin touch me.”

“Look, I’ll get an Uver and come pick you up.” Jungkook said as he got his things and hung up on you. 

You looked at your silent phone with an angry expression,”...bitch” 

Jungkook came walking in and saw you sitting on the floor poking the bouncers leg. 

“Can you get this parasite off of me?” The large man asked looking down at me. 

Jungkook stoops down and helps you up. You stumble toward him before you turned to look at the bouncer and stick your tongue out. You also flipped him off before Jungkook grabbed your hand and brought you to the Uver. You sat by the window and he did the same. You two finally got to your house and he helped bring you up. You tore your arm away from him as you stumbled up the stairs. 

“I’m not a fuckin baby.” You grumbled as you immediately fell on the stairs. The male huffed as he helped you up. 

“Get OFF of ME Jackson!” You pushed him away as tears filled your eyes. “I’m not your fuckin victim anymore!” 

“Y/n?” Jungkook put his hands up and came to you slowly, “Its just me...Jungkook.” You finally started to calm down as you slowly tried to climb the stairs to your home. Jungkook helped you up and brought you to the couch. Jungkook grabbed a wet cloth and wiped the palms of your hand that were scrapped up. He then wiped your eyes and petted your head. 

After Jungkook helped you that night, there was this awkward air again. He felt like walking on eggshells around you. Who was Jackson and why did you say you weren’t his victim. Jungkook asked his classmates around campus and even a few teachers as best he could. He finally found a teacher who was willing to give him a small amount of information. 

“Now, I’m not going to say a lot because it isn’t my story to tell, but Jackson is Y/n’s ex....and let’s say he won’t be getting boyfriend of the year award.” Dr. Nick explained. Jungkook had enough information to make a firm decision. He was going to show you what a man should treat others like. He wasn’t your boyfriend or even considered you that much of a friend, but he felt guilty for living with you almost rent free (even though the school payed for his stay). 

Jungkook went to the store after he was done with classes and picked up a lot of food to make you dinner as payment for all the times you made him dinner. He bought you your favorite candy, or so he assumed because he’d always find the wrappers in the trash. He even bought you a gift card to the coffee shop you love and headed home. Being it was a Friday, he knew you would be home a little later. The more Jungkook thought about it, the more he realized he knew a lot more about you than he thought. Jungkook started to think about all the little things you did for him. How certain foods would pop up more after he mentioned them. How you would cook different meals just for his liking and make sure he had a decent environment to study in. How you would stay up late and call of work a few times just to help him study. Jungkook smiled as he started to mentally prepare himself for cooking. He also hoped he wouldn’t burn your house down because he had very little cooking experience. 

Jungkook starts cooking a dish he often enjoyed back at home: Spicy Ramen with rice cakes and kimbap. The button down shirt he wore to school was now slightly disheveled and stained. He rolled his sleeve up as he looked at the time-- 5 more minutes. Or so he thought when he heard your keys jingle at the door. He mildly panicked before setting up the food at the table and cleaning up quickly. He ran to the door as you finally started to open it and he stopped you.

“Huh?” You asked looking at his slightly sweaty face. “Jungkook if you’re having sex-” 

“AH No no no!! But I have to ask for you to stand out here for 5 more minutes...trust me.” You don’t know why but you did trust him, and so you stood there for 5 whole minutes. You thought about all the possibilities you could walk into: A girl or a guy running out half naked, your house destroyed, drugs...etc.  Jungkook came back looking a lot more put together and opened the door. You were hit with a mix of smells and were shocked. 

“J-jungkook, did you ? You didn’t- no you can’t cook can you?” You asked as you walked in and admired the kitchen. 

“I noticed you’ve been working more and I felt bad for staying here, even longer than expected... So I wanted to show you that I can be a proper man and treat another human being with respect.” 

“I don’t care the reason as long as it taste good...and it looks amazing Jeon.” You quickly wash your hands and sit down ready to eat. Jungkook sat closer to you which you didn’t think much about being the ramen was in a big shared pot. You start digging in but you try to avoid the kimbap. You didn’t know if it had seafood and you didn’t want to take a chance. Jungkook picked up a piece and brought it up to your mouth. 

“Made without seafood.” He smiled before you opened your mouth and took a bite. You smiled as you continued to eat. Jungkook ate as well before making the perfect bite. You even noticed it and tried to follow what he did, but before you could, he offered it to you. You were about to take in the food before you paused. 

“Where is all this coming from?” You asked before taking the bite You smiled and almost forgot you asked a question until he cleared his throat. 

“Well, like I said I felt bad for staying here and being a brat...I also wanted to give you a taste of my culture since you’ve welcomed me into yours.” He explained with a small blush and a smile. 

“Yeah I get that, but what's with that stuff?” You asked pointing to the flower bouquet lined with your favorite candies and snacks. 

“Oh...well the same reason.” He smiled. You were suspicious but you decided to finish eating. You heart was really warmed but he wasn’t that much of a brat. Yeah it was inconvenient on occasion, but he’s helped you a lot. He helps with chores and keeps his area clean, he is good company since you’re always alone, and well...he’s a pretty boy to keep around. Not to mention he saved you from that club when you were piss ass drunk. The two of y’all were cleaning up and things were going good...until Jungkook said the forbidden name. 

“Y/n...who is Jackson?” You almost drop the plate you were cleaning. 

“I fuckin knew you were up to something...Did you go through my room?! My fucking personal life?!” You started to fuss but by the look on his face, he didn’t. 

“When you were drunk, you called me Jackson and said ‘I’m not your victim anymore’...” He paused, looking down before looking back at you, “he hurt you didn’t he?” 

You stared at the wall, looking for the right words to say. “Yeah...he did. And I’m sorry I did that that night...but I’m not a baby. I don’t need your sympathy or your fuckin pandering.” You huffed as you started to leave the kitchen but he grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m not doing this to make up for him,...Nothing I can do can heal those scars. But I’m doing it to make up for me and my actions. And its my way of showing-....” Jungkook trailed off. 

“Showing what?” You said looking down at his hand holding your wrist. 

“It’s how I show affection to people I care about.” Jungkook said the words without really thinking. You were taken aback and pulled away from him. 

“Jungkook...I-” You started before he cut you off. 

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not the first kid to say this am I? And you tell them all the same thing. ‘We can’t be together because I risk losing my job’ and all that...I know.” He said looking down at his feet. You were shocked he even had feelings for you. He was completely wrong because since Jackson, you kept these walls up and didn’t let anyone like you. You normally noticed when people would catch feelings and immediately turn them away...but this was different. You hadn’t realized he liked you because you were to busy pushing yourself away from him. You noticed you liked his presence more which is why you stayed later at work, to push yourself away. 

“Jungkook, that’s not it. I actually really care about you too. But there is the case with work that I don’t know if I can get passed...but I do appreciate this. And I appreciate you so much, but after Jackson...” You trailed off. 

“You don’t know if you’re ready and I understand that...but out of all the people I’ve met, your the one person I wouldn’t mind waiting for.” Jungkook admitted. He didn’t realize how strong he felt about you until he was in this moment. You also didn’t realize how strong you felt until you realized you moved closer to him. You always had your guard up around people, but you realized you were more venerable with Jungkook than with anyone else. You peered up at him to see his eyes were red from holding back his tears. 

You chuckled softly, “You’re such a baby.” You teased making him laugh before nudging you. 

“Yeah well this baby just cooked your dinner so whose baby now?” He retorted. 

“There’s that smile...”You mumbled, smiling as you two just stood there looking at each other. Jungkook’s eyes darted down to your lips before saying fuck it. He leaned in and held your cheeks in his hand. You felt this weird tension finally dissipate. You leaned in closer and placed your hands on top of his. 

“If you think about it, I graduate this year in a few months...so if we wait it out, you won’t have to worry about your job.” Jungkook reasoned as he pulled away. 

“That is true...even if you weren’t, I can always find another job.” You smiled, kissing him again. 

A/n: Sorry if this is a little rough, but I have been on a hiatus for about a year now. Writing is something I love doing but I’ve been so busy with school and have had so little motivation. I really wrote this whole thing within 2 days and I’m proud of myself. If you really liked it, hit that like and share button! If this gets enough love, I might open request again. 

[chaletnz]

An Evening in Guatemala City

I was roped in for a taxi booking but he spoke English well and I wanted to be clear about where I was going so it was worth being ripped off. I asked to be driven to Zone 1 which would’ve been Q80 or $12 - the same price as if I’d gone to Antigua which is about an hour away! At least in local currency it was cheaper than using dollars. I asked if this area was safe and he told me not really, there are a lot of people on drugs. He said I would be a target because I'm very white and have a big backpack so he told me to avoid it. We agreed then that he’d just take me to Zone 4 from the get go and I’d not see the old city for this trip, being that it was too unsafe to walk there alone late in the afternoon with a big backpack. I didn’t want to be a statistic so I figured I’d just walk around in Zone 4 for a few hours, get some food and get my ride to Antigua later. When I was dropped off the rain had stopped and it all looked safe, the streets had lots of hip cafes and restaurants, and street art. It had vibes of Berlin, Tel Aviv or Porto and definitely not what I expected from this “hotspot of violent crime”. You could’ve told me this was a suburb of Tokyo and I would’ve believed it because the streets were so clean. Maybe it was because of the rain, or being a Monday but there were hardly any people around outside so I felt safe, although I gave people a wide berth just in case. A Japanese influenced place caught my eye and I saw a menu with Nutella taiyakis on it! Obviously I had to get one since they’re pretty hard to come by outside of Japan… I asked for one and paid Q30 but got a plate of three. Sickly sweet, and one would’ve been plenty but I had to eat the lot since I didn’t want to waste them! As I was eating I had a guy wheel up his trolley of phone accessories and try to sell me something, another came up and tried to have me buy a rose. Oldest trick in the book! I sat down for a really good flat white way past my coffee curfew of 2pm at Rojo Cerezo. It was worth it, to have such a good coffee for Q20 in Guatemala where the beans were probably grown within 30km of here. I decided to go with Mr Taco for dinner, it was Q30 for 3 tacos which I thought was reasonable. I managed to order properly in Spanish too, she told me they didn’t have any chicken so I went with beef instead. They came out on corn tortillas and the lady told me to try the toppings from the bar, I went with salsa verde, salsa roja and piña as my toppings. The pineapple was the best but all were good considering how cheap, quick, and filling it was. I’m going to be a big fan of tacos going forward! Phone supply guy came in and was flogging off cases left and right, some of the other patrons actually bought cases - unbelievable! It felt staged. Before I left to go to the fancy Conquistador Hotel for my shuttle to collect me I had to try the baño here. It seems like Guatemalans call them sanitorios instead and this one was a treat. With my bag on I could barely squeeze inside and when I did, the latch was just a chain like on a hotel room door to hold it closed. This bathroom had definitely been built by some average joes! I was waiting for my shuttle inside the hotel but there must’ve been some confusion because I was not a guest there and the driver didn’t come inside looking for me. I moved outside to draw attention to myself and lucky I had because a driver called me over and said he’d been waiting a long time for me, once I was on wifi again I also saw that they’d emailed me saying the driver will not wait. I sent them a bit of a heated email back since the guy hadn’t even bothered to come inside the hotel to look for me and would’ve just left me stranded in Guatemala City… but I arrived in Antigua after a crazy ride with the driver going way too fast and passing literally everyone else on the road. He sped through the cobblestones in Antigua and it was so bumpy I felt like we were off roading in the van but he dropped me off right at my door and I could check in with a very smiley man to rest before my early pick up the morning.