#I desperately look forward to having a book budget again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stilemawillow · 3 years ago

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Evidence Acquired [Thug! Levi | Reader | Modern AU!]

evidence: i - enough / ii - needed / iii - acquired

Carrots, milk, apples, ham, cheese, bread.

The list went on repeat every time you'd turn into a different aisle. The supermarket was big and new so you were having trouble finding everything, not to mention doing it fast. So far you'd already picked up the carrots and apples, and were currently hunting down the milk and cheese aisle. You'd passed by shelves full of tea and coffee and had to hold back ever so desperately as to not buy any since your budget hardly allowed it. The unhealthy snacks aisle didn't really help you - you got out with a pack of jelly beans and nothing else.

From afar, you gazed upon a row of freezers and quickly pushed your cart forward, eyes lighting up with excitement. Normally, you didn't like shopping but lately it had turned into a very good way of exhausting the bottled-up energy in your body. You still didn't have friends, your graduation ceremony had been just half a month ago and now you were a free woman applying for different colleges in the area with low tuition and looking up scholarships every chance you got.

It had been a month after your last encounter with the charming foul-mouthed thug whose name turned out to be Levi and you dared say you wanted to see him again. You had, in actual fact, less than two weeks ago, but it had been very brief and included nothing past a plain greeting. Maybe it was mostly due to the fact he was running away from a police car and you happened to bump into him round a corner. He'd caught you, graced you with a mildly surprised expression and nodded in response to your muttered 'hey' before rushing off once the sirens got a bit too close for comfort.

You hadn't seen him afterwards. Of course, mentioning the fact you kept his torn up shirt was unneeded - who refused a free comfy pyjama nowadays? It was also useless to mention that the aforementioned piece of clothing and your creepy act of preserving it sometimes prevented you from sleeping calmly these days.

Were you acting creepy? Totally.

Would the male ever find out? No.

Would you let him? Over your dead body.

In conclusion, did you have to fret over it? No, but you still did occasionally when your conscience felt especially guilty and in the mood to make you feel like you were socially retarded, which, maybe, you actually were.

The wheels of your cart wheezed as its front hit the line of freezers and your shoulders jumped. You woke up from the trance your thoughts had gotten you in and frantically looked around for a carton of milk. Once it was acquired, you put it in your cart and started hunting for cheese. You needed something cheap that didn't taste like trash and wouldn't mould too fast. High quality and a low price, you were one with high standards that were rarely met.

On your quest, instead of cheese, you encountered a freezer full of ice cream. Of course, you stopped pushing your cart forward and started wishing it could push you instead before you made a bad decision and bought yourself a bunch of frosty treats. There was chocolate, vanilla, chocolate chip, strawberries, mint, even caramel and cheesecake. They were in boxes and cones and on sticks. And you were drooling at them longingly, as if letting them see how pathetic you were being would make them jump inside your cart and erase their cost once you drove them to the register. It took you a while to realise you weren't alone in your desperate endeavours.

Next to you stood a short girl with a pair of pigtails and an expression of longing on her face. The ice-creams in the freezer were a childhood friend, her emerald eyes spoke, and she desperately wished for a play date like before. You wondered if your eyes gave out the impression of the ice cream being like a first love that never faded away. Your attention usually wouldn't have wavered further but then you noticed the book in the girl's hand.

Hate Comes Easier Than Murder by Frederic T. Harper. You gasped. Loudly. The girl's trance was broken and she looked at your excited face before following your gaze to the book in her hand. Her expression, previously defensive, turned soft and elated as she met your sparkling gaze.

"Lonia or Logaret?" Was the whisper that tore itself from her lips like a death threat. Her grip on the book tightened as her emerald eyes narrowed. To the question, your pupils dilated and your mouth formed a disgusted grimace. It seemed like an answer enough, but you needed to provide a vocal clarification of your opinion as well - this was your duty as a fan.

"Who the fuck even ships Logaret anymore? Lonia forever. It's canon." You awaited a reaction. The girl might've been a Logaret shipper instead - meaning Logan and Margaret got together in some crazy universe where Silvania didn't exist because that was what it would take to make Logan fall in love with her biggest rival instead of her. The girl in front of you however only grinned.

"Of course it's canon. Fred Harper ships it, so any sane person who's read the book should too." Her statement came forth, determined and curt, and at that moment you knew - you liked this girl. You could probably talk about the book with her for hours. Maybe until the supermarket closed its doors and security came to shoo you away.

"Favourite chapter?" You questioned with twinkling eyes and an excited smile. Her face immediately lit up.

"Pray Tell Who Killed The King." The answer was immediate and you gaped her way before clapping your hands together.

"Mine too! I loved the kiss at the end, it was kind of unexpected." You were getting familiar and your cart was leaning against your way as a reminder of what you were supposed to be doing instead. But you couldn't help it - you rarely met people you could connect with so fast, not to mention on grounds that were ever so familiar to you both.

"But very much needed. If those two hadn't gotten together soon everybody would've gone bonkers." She lifted a knowing index finger in the air and you nodded your head affirmatively.

"Sure as hell they would've. It's the ultimate OTP we're talking about here."

"I'm guessing Logan's your favourite guy?" She lifted a brow and inspected your face suspiciously as if she already knew the answer. You tried to calm yourself and not jump into an overly excited discussion about that since you might've actually met him in real life and it didn't really help that you were literally in love with him as a fictional character.

"Sure, he's cool. I like how he's a complete asshole and still gets what he wants, it kinda breaks the cliché good guy in the role of the protagonist image." You explained leisurely, making the girl in front of you huff whilst nodding in agreement.

"The fact he's based on an actual person makes it all the better - you could literally meet him in real life, wouldn't that be great?" Her face and her voice weren't as excited as they should've been, you told yourself as your shoulders went rigid. Sure as hell it would've been great, only, you didn't meet him at a convention, he pressed a knife to your throat and then lent you his hoodie. And a month later you almost kissed, twice. To say it was a 'great experience' wasn't something that easy. A lot of other words suited the situation better.

"... yeah." Your voice seemed awkward and choked up. A normal fan, moreover a female one, wouldn't have wavered in their fangirling, but you literally seemed to go tense with awkwardness. The girl in front of you noticed that. "It'd be superb, but wouldn't it be kinda weird? You know a lot about him and he doesn't know shit about you, and you're all over him. I doubt it'll make you the best of friends."

"Maybe it won't." She admitted slowly, her eyes had narrowed considerably at you. Your gaze suddenly averted.

"Anyways, I guess I should be resuming my cheese hunt already or it might mould waiting for me." There was a small smile on your face as you started pushing the cart in the opposite direction. You were looking down, staring at the things on your list you'd already gotten and repeating the ones left in your head once more. And then you heard him.

"Isabel, I told you so many fucking times, stop running off. You're always in the ice-cream aisle in the end anyway." He grumbled and before either of you could look up, your carts collided and made your shoulders jump. Then you came face to face with Levi, the live version of Logan. And behind you was his little sister - Isabel, who you'd spent the last few minutes talking to.

"Hi." You wheezed with a wavering smile as his eyes widened in mild surprise. Obviously, he hadn't expected to bump into you at the supermarket of all places - you two usually tended to meet up under circumstances that endangered your physical health, it was almost like a tradition at this point of things.

"Hey." His voice sounded no less awkward than yours had despite the look on his face not managing to help the overall impression. You pulled your cart back just a bit and then Isabel stepped forth, small pigtails swaying and emerald hues glistening suspiciously.

"You two know each other?" You and Levi snapped out of your respective dazes only to look at her and the book she kept clutching in her hand. The book didn't make only your shoulders stiffen, you realised upon glancing in the raven-haired thug's direction.

"We've met... once." The pause wasn't convincing but you figured only the second time counted since the first was more of a trespass and a bunch of threats that might've escalated into a knife versus elbow fight. You felt Levi looking at you as you rubbed the back of your neck in supposed discomfort. Maybe you had to get on with your cheese.

"Twice." He added coldly, making you shrug as you glanced at his sister.

"Sure."

"And?" Her eyes were big and curious exactly like a child's despite the fact the male had previously stated she was fifteen years old. That meant high school? So basically she was just three years younger than you. That kind of made you question his age. Was he younger? The same age as you? Maybe even older by a few years? He certainly didn't look like a guy in his twenties though.

"Nothing." You answered curtly, hoping not to have the raven jump in and explain everything that had happened between you two. If she just read specific chapters of the book she was holding she'd acquire a very decent idea of how your relationship with her big brother was going. Your eyes strayed from her emerald orbs to his shoulder. "How's the wound?"

"A scar." He managed a calm answer but that totally didn't mean he didn't look bothered. It was like a strange reunion that might've been filled with sexual tension and smug nicknames only if his little sister wasn't also there.

"I hope your arm overall's fine?" Your hands fidgeted over your cart and he nodded briefly, shooting Isabel a look you were unable to decipher.

"It is, you managed to bandage it properly."

"Wait!" The teenage girl's eyes widened in shock as she looked at you and then Levi wondrously. "Is this the girl who bandaged you back then?! So then she's the one who you were telling me about all this time!" A certain set of words caught your attention, along with the constipated expression on the thug's face right after his little sister's exclamation.

"Isabel, shush it." His earrings flashed in the fluorescent lighting as his head snapped in her direction, features contorting in a sharp scowl full of reprimand. The girl shrank back into herself but then you spoke up, gathering both's attention with your cocked eyebrow.

"All this time?" You echoed, a smug undertone sneaking into your voice. You gave Levi a pointed look and huffed wondrously at how the tables had turned. Maybe Isabel's presence at the scene wasn't such a deterrent as you had first deemed it. "Am I sensing some familiarity in here, bad boy? Last time we talked I remember you telling me how we didn't know each other."

"It's nothing of the sort. I mentioned you once. Isabel's memory tends to exaggerate things." His gunmetal hues were on yours in their normal way but behind the wall of grey you could almost see the flicker of tension go on and off in the span of milliseconds. His eyes didn't move away from yours, not even when you moved your hands to your hips.

"No, it doesn't! I'm turning sixteen in three months, my memory's just fine!" Isabel's defiant exclamation put a stop to your staring contest. You nodded slowly in her direction, a hum purring at the back of your throat pointedly. Yes, well, certainly the girl with the pigtails knew exactly what to say to protect you and embarrass him. You did like her.

"Hmm." You shot Levi a smug look before redirecting the topic ever so briefly. "Okay then, opinions visibly clash in here. So this is your sister?" You threw the aforementioned sister a small smile which she warmly returned as your shoulders relaxed from the lack of tension in them. You felt more comfortable knowing you weren't the only one thinking (or talking, in his case) about him, it brought you a bit of confidence.

"Obviously." He snorted before gesturing for you two to get on with the official introductions. His sister rolled her eyes at him as you stepped forward and reached out a hand. She took and shook it before you started talking.

"(Y/N), yes, I know who you are. I didn't really expect us to meet like this." Isabel announced after cutting you off. Your eyebrows raised as you glanced at Levi but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"Then how?" You asked curiously, making her snort and shoot her big brother a pointed look.

"When my brother introduces you as his girlfriend once he gets the balls to ask you out maybe." You could literally see the way in which every single muscle in the male's body stiffened. His eyes widened and his mouth curled downwards. Levi stepped forward from behind his cart and Isabel lifted the book in her hand in front of her face as to shield herself from his glare. You, on the other hand, cut off his incoming rage with a loud fit of nervous laughter. The siblings looked at you in surprise as you tried to balance your breathing and wheezed uncontrollably.

"Sorry, it was just unexpected and I tend to laugh in all the wrong situations. I'm sure it wasn't an actual invitation, just a joke or something." Your gaze bounced between the two, making them slowly back down as they had time to calm themselves. There was a small uneasy smile on your lips. Your mind might've been filled with a bunch of indecent thoughts about the raven, but you surely hadn't considered him ever asking you out. "Right?" There was a high-pitched end to the short question that only proved you were seriously hoping for a 'yes' because you wouldn't know what to say if you heard a 'no'.

"I'll go pick up a few boxes of black tea. Maybe you should sort this out." Isabel had left a second after that, quick as the wind and almost as soundless. Contrary to your former thoughts, now you dreaded the moment you and Levi were left all alone - what miracles a simple set of twenty seconds of dialogue can do. Your hands started playing with the hem of your shirt as your previous confidence made its way to the depths of your body almost as fast as you liked to end conversations with people who weren't your reflection in the mirror... or Levi. Said male was silent and still looked like he wanted to punch something.

"I like your sister." You blurted out suddenly, having thought of nothing else to say that would make this conversation less awkward for both of you. The raven-haired thug, already used to how you handled uncomfortable situations, settled with regarding your statement and ignoring everything else his little sister had told you two to 'sort out'. There was nothing to sort out here. Nothing that needed sorting. Was there?

"I don't." He grumbled darkly, glare arriving at your averted eyes. You were eyeing the products in your cart because that way you didn't have to look at him. You didn't know exactly why you didn't want to look, but you were sure it would spare your poor virgin heart not to face him and his attractive frown directly.

"Certainly not when she embarrasses you, but she's cool." You put some emphasis on your opinion for her since that seemed to make him react the most and though you were intimidated by the idea of looking at him, you wouldn't mind for this conversation to last some more.

"You're saying that only because you don't live with her." Levi rounded his cart and picked out a carton of milk from the freezer you'd been standing next to just mere minutes ago. The fact he probably did that just to avoid this whole interaction in some way made your shoulders tense.

"Maybe." You muttered in agreement, not adding anything that would keep the discussion going. You looked down at your cart.

Carrots, milk, apples, ham, cheese, bread.

No, scratch that second one.

Carrots, apples, ham, cheese, bread.

It was somewhat soothing not to think of Levi and how uncomfortable you felt at the moment for a few seconds. Maybe you could get out by saying a plain 'bye' and resuming your adventures in this maze of a supermarket, and if you truly got lost at one point during your food hunt you wouldn't regret it one bit because the siblings would've already gone past the register and that would leave you alone and not socially pressured one bit.

"Do you always quote Silvania when you don't know what else to say?" The thug's question brought you back to reality from the not-so-distant future you kept imagining, only to slap you across the face with its bluntness. Your head whipped in his direction promptly and your fingers clung to the handle of your cart tightly.

"No! I do tend to laugh in all the wrong situations." Your voice had lowered in volume by the end of your sentence, but the protest at the beginning was heard by a number of oblivious bystanders who just wanted to pick up their dairy products. To avoid total humiliation and simultaneously free yourself of the binds the restless question had grounded you with, you mustered all your courage and spoke of something you thought you'd never come to address. "By the way, I think it would be best to be frank and just ask, so..." There was a small pause where the internal struggle was most intense, but then it came - like a cork flying off a champagne bottle, but with less grace. "Are you the person Logan's character is based on?" There it was, out on the open at last, the question that had been tormenting your everything since the very beginning of this little adventure of yours. Levi looked like he hadn't even heard you talk, but his clenched jaw and the additional hostility in his glare were indicators enough of the exact opposite - oh, he'd heard loud and clear.

"I certainly didn't expect that." His voice sounded bored, but his eyes were downcast. And they never were. He never looked down and he most certainly never looked like he was pensive enough for it to bleed through his stoic expression. You were suddenly wary - what if you said something that would trigger a negative reaction? And, in order to ease the tension off your own shoulders, you started explaining yourself in great detail.

"Well, all descriptions are either close to the truth or match perfectly and let me tell you, I've spent quite a few years picturing Logan and..." It came to your own self as something like a shocker - the brick wall you finally walked into. "... and you're exactly how I pictured him." Your voice had grown softer, its pace was slower and you were making direct eye contact with Levi during the exchange.

"The secret's out I guess." The sigh, along with the few fateful words, tore itself from his lungs in defeat, but his orbs didn't leave yours. Your eyes had widened briefly as you processed the notion - you'd been right the whole time. All those similarities you'd noticed weren't ironic, they were natural for him. And fate for you.

"So you actually are...?" You trailed off questioningly, expecting a more detailed explanation. He couldn't just tell you 'yes' and not give you a proper backstory. Levi sighed again, getting a hand through his ebony locks. The piercing on his left eyebrow reflected the fluorescent light into your eyes before his bangs hid it from sight.

"I am. My uncle is friends with Harper and he told me he'd write me into his new book if I had nothing against it. I said fine as long as he doesn't turn me into a total Prince Charming or something I wasn't, but I didn't know I'd be the biggest jerk of a protagonist of a whole-ass book." The explanation wasn't what you'd expected, but it sounded like something that could happen. You couldn't believe your favourite fictional character was created because a simple teenager had nonchalantly agreed to something that usually required the presence of a lawyer.

"Wow." You breathed out, awe coming off your body in waves. Waves that obviously couldn't reach the ebony-haired thug, since he just scratched the back of his head in mild discomfort and let his glare travel from your face to the cart by your side.

"Kinda ruined all that jazz you got going on with it, right?" His question greatly stunned your very soul, mostly because you were looking at him as if you were a star-struck five-year-old and he was suddenly the awkward guy who might as well be blind with how oblivious his act was. You were somewhat offended - he could never ruin the book for you. Not with how cutely he shifted from being smug to being awkward, how caring he appeared to be and how he'd never once wanted to include you in the dangerous stuff he did. You being completely and utterly incapable of saying that to his face was beside the point.

"... no. You made it better. Believe me, I've never imagined this," your hands gestured to the space between you as a way of conveying the oddity this whole acquaintanceship was, "happening, so meeting you has been like a dream come true, though maybe this is the first time we've seen each other when I don't have a knife pressed against my throat." A small smile had settled on your lips, but Levi just wouldn't stop acting like he was at fault for the global warming or World War II.

"Sorry about that." His arm fell to his side but his eyes never once left your cart. You figured that maybe it wasn't his own thoughts making him uncomfortable - maybe it was you. And as a person who wasn't used to being vocal about their thoughts in the least, you assumed that was the only acceptable option.

"Not a problem." Your smile had fallen and your fingers were clutching the handle of the cart like it was the only thing stopping you from literally sprinting away from the scene. Your gaze was on the purchases in the cart, not daring to move, and Levi was suddenly aware of the subtle change in the air. "I should continue shopping. A bunch of cheap products are waiting for me to sweep them off their shelves." You forced a half-assed smirk, but your voice was small and you wanted to disappear altogether.

"Until next time." Levi decided not to pry, but he'd seen the downcast eyes and the furrowed eyebrows.

"Maybe the register." You muttered, pushing your cart past him, careful not to bump into somebody in the process. That would bring you a big amount of first-hand embarrassment you didn't exactly need at the moment.

"Maybe." Levi's response sounded after you'd gone down the aisle, but he wasn't really talking to you anyway. He was talking to himself whilst mentally chasing down the stupid part of his idiotic brain with a sandal and a gun. Each would come to its respective use during his process of self-castigation.

"Yep, the register." The mumble was almost inaudible as you looked back at Levi and Isabel, last in line, while the grumpy cashier bagged your purchases and you paid for them. You glanced back at the duo and this time Isabel noticed you, suddenly nudging her big brother's ribcage as the line moved forward and you fled to the side to count your change. The raven next to her glared down at her.

"So did you ask her out?" The redhead inquired eagerly, emerald orbs trailing all over her big brother's face for a reaction she could read. Unfortunately, before that could happen her eyes were forced to look at the floor due to the slap the ebony-haired thug had placed at the back of her head. A small 'oof' escaped her lips at the violent behaviour. He only hit her when he was really embarrassed. Which meant...

"Shut up, Isabel." He scolded harshly, immediately turning to face the tea boxes by his side as if they would help him with his little sister. The independent teenager scoffed knowingly prior to making her way to the free space on the other end of the line. You felt a tap at your shoulder which made you jump and drop the coins in your hand on the ground. You turned to look at the intruder and breathed a sigh of obvious relief once being met with Isabel's emerald gaze. You crouched and started collecting the shiny coins before somebody else got to them as the girl spoke.

"Hey, (Y/N), you know you're a lot like Silvania?" Had you been drinking something you would've spit it out all over the decently polished tiles.

"I'm more of an opposite." You stated with a small voice, trying to focus your mind on detecting the shiny pieces of metal on the floor rather than the girl's words. Your fingers clung to each newfound one like a sinner clung to the spider's web which would lead him out of hell.

"Actually you talk like her. And act like her." The determined girl had put her hands on her hips cockily, like she knew better than both you and Levi combined. She was also obviously very very set on making you stutter or at least blush in public. The fact you had less than three people as a direct audience was beside the point.

"Don't have nearly as much sex appeal, though." You looked up, hand full of coins you probably had to stuff in your pocket as to prevent a second spillage. Your smile was twitchy and you were very well aware you were nowhere close to being like your ultimate female role model so getting compared to her was very underwhelming. Silvania was tall, intelligent, strong and independent. She had a silver tongue and a smirk that made Logan's mind go blank. And you, well, you could never be anything like that.

"Well, Logan doesn't like her because she's pretty." Isabel argued as you carefully slipped the coins into the pocket of your jeans one by one after making sure you'd collected everything from the tiled floor of the supermarket. A snort escaped your nose as you grabbed your purchases in hand and finally met the emerald-eyed girl's gaze.

"He likes her because she doesn't let him get what he wants just because." You smiled, knowing Silvania wasn't your usual girl. She fought to the death for what she considered important, she didn't whine when she broke a nail and she preferred thinking to reacting emotionally to things. All you did was jump to conclusions and spare your voice the waste. If mental excuses to leave a social setting were crackers you'd be a thousand pounds.

"She's a challenge." Isabel added with a determined gaze. "She can talk her way out of things as well as he can, she just doesn't flaunt it. He's the only person she trusts enough with her vulnerable side." Yes, Silvania was admirable. You were nothing in comparison. The redhead's irises bore into yours and you tried not to look away. "You remind me of her." The sentence made your shoulders slouch in slight guilt.

"... thanks." You mumbled with a small smile, eyes back to the ground as if you still had coins left to pick up with your hand clutching the plastic bag's handle so hard your knuckles turned white. Levi was closer to the end of the line now, but Isabel didn't pay attention to that - or all the warning glares he threw her way when you weren't looking.

"So has my idiot of a big bro asked you out?" The girl cocked a curious eyebrow your way, eyes narrowing slyly up at your figure and its suddenly tense shoulders. Frank was good for Isabel - it was the best course for people who were so dense they couldn't see attraction even if it slammed an actual book in their face.

"No." Your curt reply sounded more like an inquiry of sorts, but the thug hadn't asked you out. Not that he ever would. That was a faraway dream you couldn't allow yourself to have for the sake of... well, everything.

"Would you say yes if he did?" She questioned slowly, almost softly so. She was prodding at the tip of a topic you didn't really want to discuss, but if you didn't answer she'd keep asking and you realised that. So, betting on the fact she knew very well her brother had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever and would respect that, you opted for being honest. Maybe for the first time in quite some months.

"... I don't know. I guess." You licked your lips and bit down on the bottom one in uncertainty, not daring to glance upwards and look at Levi. You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to seem nonchalant, but all it did was show you how rigid your whole body felt. "Maybe if it doesn't involve us using knives and running from the police."

"Really?" Isabel's eyes, contrary to your expectations didn't narrow in suspicion and overprotectiveness. They widened abruptly and shone so brightly you were taken aback by the pure enthusiasm her hopeful expression oozed. You blinked at her for a few short seconds, considering your answer. Then reconsidering it. And then reconsidering it again. Who knew a simple 'yes' or 'no' question would faze you this much. Then again, the answer options didn't matter as long as the topic was a matter of inner conflict. And in your case, it was a full-on mental civil war that would most likely end in genocide.

"... yeah." It was a choked up mumble but you were sure it was the truth. Your eyes were on your feet and you contemplated facing Isabel and telling her you'd been joking. When you did you saw Levi over her shoulder and a gulp slid painfully down your throat.

"Are you two talking about the book again?" He asked with a bored expression though his glare was quite successfully attempting to pierce his sister's very skull. She only grinned and snatched the plastic bag from his hold.

"Not exactly. Hey, big bro, you know what? I'll take these and call Farlan and maybe you should walk (Y/N) home since it's getting late." Isabel winked at you and set off towards the exit, pigtails bouncing as her big brother called out to her with furrowed eyebrows. "Grow a pair!" She exclaimed before the sliding doors closed behind her back, making quite a few people turn at the vulgarity and check who it was directed to. Isabel rarely said things without some ulterior motive, though. It might've not considered you this time because Levi seemed to get it - whatever it was. He clicked his tongue and stared after her, feet rooted to his spot. His eyebrows had visibly relaxed.

"You can run after her, you know. I can go home on my own." Your voice was considerably smaller than it should've been around him but you couldn't help it. You still thought your presence made him uncomfortable and the fact his little sister had purposefully left you two alone made you overthink things a bit too much.

"With your luck, you might get mugged." He returned coldly but the amused flicker in his hues had returned due to some very strange reason. You snorted and started walking to the exit, subconsciously switching the hand with which you held the plastic bag of purchases so it could now stand between your bodies. You guessed it was just your defence mechanism at work.

"There's always the possibility of making it back safe, too." You argued softly, not attempting to make eye contact that would only embarrass you further. You were outside the supermarket and the light wind brushed against your faces, making you sigh ever so simultaneously.

"Too late for that bullshit, I've already started." He stated, hands stuffed in his pockets since he had nothing to carry and he seemingly didn't want to make you feel like a damsel in distress by suggesting to carry your bag. "What were you talking about?" The question came, sudden yet slow, and it made you realise Levi wasn't looking at you either. You decided to pin it on the discomfort you made him feel and leave it at that. It was easier to create an excuse and not bother with explaining something you didn't understand.

"Stuff." You blurted out, dead set on never admitting you'd talked about how you'd say 'yes' without a second thought if he were to ever ask you out. It sounded ridiculous in your brain so you needn't imagine how big a fool it would paint you as if you ever said it aloud.

"Us?" Levi cocked an eyebrow in your direction but you only scoffed and waved your free hand around in so supposed dismissal.

"No, no. Isabel's just worried you're lonely." Your eyes were following your feet and the steps they made. You compared them to Levi's, you counted them - anything to make you not think of this particular conversation you were having. You noticed Levi was walking rather slowly for a man with that big a stride. Then you realised he was purposely matching it to yours and the tips of your ears burned a crimson shade.

"Bullshit." The male spat accusingly, not seeking any more information yet. You walked in silence for another half a minute, crossed a boulevard and stepped onto the cemented curb with your right foot. "What did she really say?" His voice was softer this time, like he would settle and stop asking if you didn't answer him honestly once more. You swallowed and felt your fingers playing with the plastic handle of the bag you were holding.

"She didn't say. She asked. If you'd asked me out." The statement came short and steady, but it didn't prevent the awkward atmosphere from suffocating you ever so efficiently. Levi scoffed and took a breath.

"I haven't." You could almost picture the way in which his jaw would flex because of self-restraint. He didn't want to say more and you understood that perfectly well.

"That's what I said." You piped, attempting to fix the heavy mood that had befallen your shoulders and head. Maybe it was storing itself in your plastic bag, making you lean more to your left.

"And?" He prompted some more, knowing fully well Isabel wouldn't waste her time asking you two the same question and not taking things further when she received a certain answer. Your stride seemed to hasten, as did your breath had it not gotten caught in your chest first.

"She asked something else." You spit it out like a nasty piece of food and he looked at you with curious eyes. You were nervous to admit it because it would lead to more questions. Then why were you admitting it at all? Why were you putting yourself in a situation like that? "If I would say 'yes' if you did." Your gaze was pointed forward, in the direction of your apartment complex and the window on the first floor that equalled the protection of your safe haven.

"No." Levi's one-syllable answer to a question you never asked confused you until you got the gist of the fact he was supposedly answering for you in that situation. It made you face him for the first time after you'd started your walk together and this time he was the one looking at the front like he actually had something to observe. "You don't like me, princess, I kinda doubt your virgin highness would pick me for your first date." His sharp canine dug into his bottom lip in a way that almost made you trip and you found the gesture strangely attractive in a situation where you probably had to stick to your usual 'teenage lacking hormones' behaviour and mindset.

"Why do you think so?" You asked in return, trying to mask your surprise on the matter. He actually thought you disliked him - just great. It meant he'd never ask you out for real.

Fuck. The sentence sounded like you'd actually hoped he would. Hormones were, as understood by your shy self the hard way, something you were better off without. Especially around male specimens named Levi with teeth you'd imagined biting into your shoulders and lips you'd vividly pictured moulding together with your own. Oh, no. This was so inappropriate. How did normal people think such stuff without fainting? Did normal people even think such stuff? Did being this indecent mean you were a freak? Goodness, you were a freak!

"Am I wrong?" The ebony-haired male's husky baritone snapped you out of a near panic-attack experience and you thanked him inwardly prior to scoffing at his face as to pretend you were totally okay emotionally. Which you weren't. And he was the one to blame for that.

"I'm just asking why you think you're right." You stated plainly, making him hum.

"You're the one always pointing out we never meet under normal circumstances." He started, making your eyebrows furrow in offence as your mouth opened to object.

"And you're always the one pointing out we don't know each other." You attempted to wound his pride, but it was a futile thing to do.

"That was just last time." He argued, making you scoff as you looked at the destination of your walk, five feet away from where you stood.

"Anyways. We're here. Thanks for walking me home even though you didn't need to. Now, since we're strangers I'll go inside and not invite you to come in." You stated with newfound confidence and a diminutive smirk. You stepped to the side, not waiting for Levi to react, but when you felt his fingers grasp your wrist your whole body froze up.

"That's cool with me as long as you give me a bonus minute of your time." His words had suddenly pressed the 'worry unnecessarily' button on your control panel and your sweat glands were just waiting for the command to start producing buckets worth.

"Why?" Your voice was squeaky and suspicious, and you thanked God you weren't part of a suspense novel because you'd ruin every scene you were present in. Levi stood in front of you, wearing yet another hoodie that let his neck tattoo show and trying to make himself look suave and cool. You saw under the composed layer a male who was ready to break out into a sprint. Why, though?

"Because I fucking hate my sister but she has a knack for these things and I'm guessing she obtained enough information before giving me the 'go'." His words made no fucking sense whatsoever to you. You thought he'd say something stupid or something profound or something offensive. You'd mind any of those less than the confusion that made your eyebrows furrow at the moment.

"What are you talking about?" Your nose scrunched up and the male got his hands out of his pocket with a strangely sharp sigh. It almost sounded like the sigh you let out when you were nervous about something you wanted to say.

"Since it wasn't painfully obvious, I'm asking you out on a date, princess." His voice was harsh but it died out at the end as if he didn't even know how to finish his sentence. His eyes weren't on yours and you probably had to get your ears checked. Your mind was the living embodiment of the phrase 'blank canvas'. There wasn't even the usual little Loading... icon in the middle, there was nothing. Then Levi spoke up again in a hushed voice you found barely recognisable. "There's... no other way for us to get to know each other after all." Silence settled between your bodies as he waited for an answer, his patience thinning. You had a long way to go if you wanted to actually accept the fact you'd just heard him ask you out on a date. "So?" He pressed once the last string was cut and you exhaled a shaky breath with an unbelieving expression.

"I really don't know what to say." You blurted out slowly, feeling small and weightless in a world so big and full of wonders. Levi's eyebrows had furrowed as per usual and his eyes were all over your face, looking for a messenger of rejection your features might've sent out. There wasn't one, though.

"If this were scripted I would've helped by mouthing a 'yes' at you." He stated, awkward yet supposedly composed, and you suddenly felt like chuckling. The notion was still getting processed by your brain, but, as cliché as it sounded, your mouth knew exactly what each and every other part of your body wanted.

"Okay." The word hung in the air between you like a death sentence, but in the good way. It had finality you thought of no other way to voice.

Then Levi had stepped closer to you, hand warily moving upwards to cup your face. Had you had the chance to observe his features in the afternoon sun you would've come to the conclusion he looked exactly like he had that time in your kitchen when you'd finished treating his wound. Soft, almost confused so. You didn't know each other, he'd argue with himself - but since the first time he laid eyes on you he knew such a moment was on its way. Strange, your stomach was now constantly doing those pleasantly unpleasant flips when he was around. It didn't annoy or weird you out anymore. Maybe if you actually went out on a date with him you'd just have to get used to it.

"Okay what, princess?" You could see the blue specks as his whisper sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your free hand's fingers had latched onto his hoodie, set on stabilising you whatever it took them because the look in his gunmetal hues was quite successfully making your knees give out.

"Okay, I'll go out with you, bad boy." You murmured, a pout at the corner of your mouth before the thug in front of you smirked, lips ghosting over your own in a way that drove you crazy. Press them against mine, your hormones would scream and you'd agree ever so eagerly, let me get a taste of that tea you've probably drunk earlier.

"It’s Levi." He warned lowly, slender fingers making you lean into his gentle touch. A smile graced your lips and you uttered his name prior to making the first move and pressing your lips to his. Black tea, just as expected, and you melted into him. You heard a hum bubbling at the back of his throat. It vibrated against your mouth and he pulled your face closer, stealing the breath from your lungs. All blood you had in your body decided to move and temporarily reside in your face when his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip - a long-awaited fantasy finally coming to life.

Your knees briefly buckled but he used his other arm to steady your body and press it flush against his with the smallest (and sexiest) of chuckles. You were having a hard time processing the situation still, but you knew one thing for sure - finally, after months of research and theories, the case was closed. It was official now - it was evidence acquired.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #isabel cameo because i love her #also the only reason he gets the ball to ask yn out soooooooo/#3rd part up this is the end of the trilogy so enjoy the happy open ending #also thug levi keeps hitting different in a trivial envinronment

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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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the wedding booth — eren jaeger

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ after being unwillingly dragged to plan and create a wedding booth for your first university festival, eren accompanies you to a bridal boutique. there, he contemplates about the future and all of the cheesy romantic stuff he wants to do with you.

ೃ genre and warnings: college au, lots and lots of fluff!

ೃ my nav → my aot masterlist

ೃ 1k words

My Big Fat Greek Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers... hell, even Mamma Mia.

If having to be forced to watch these romantic comedies about weddings doesn't give you the sudden urge to get hitched and run away to some tropical island, then you don't know what will.

For your very first uni fair at Shigashina University, your friends had proposed a Marriage booth. To be more specific, three of your friends did. Jean, Sasha, and Connie are the masterminds behind this stupid idea and it's all because of three things:

1. Jean is pining over Mikasa so so bad. So many years have passed and yet he still hasn't found a way to confess. And so, due to his pompous ass binge-watching stupid rom-coms recently, he thinks that if "fake dating" can bring two people together, then having a fake wedding with his unrequited crush of 12 years could finally make her fall for him too. He wants the booth to be as iconic as a wedding straight out of Las Vegas. Problem is, he's never been to Las Vegas, and his terribly unrealistic basis for wanting it to be as iconic as a "Las Vegas Wedding" is that one scene from The Hangover and that episode from Friends.

He was delusional and yet, he wanted to push through with this proposal no matter what. Nothing was going to stop him... not unless it was one of the three seniors whom you would be proposing this project to in the first place.

2. Sasha's goals are much normal. A bit odd, but still normal and not as desperate as Jean's. All she wants is to get Ymir, the captain of the school's soccer team to confess to Historia, the freshman Bio-Chemistry student who works part-time as a library assistant (and whom everyone secretly fawns over for. she's just that damn cute.) However, the real reason as to why she helped [rp[pse this stupid marriage booth to get them to finally confess to each other is anyone's guess.

3. Connie thinks he's gonna get clout from this. Rise up the university hierarchy perhaps? He's treating the entire festival like it's high school all over again. He prays that the marriage booth will become the hottest thing in the festival, then he'll instantly become that cool and bad-ass freshie whom everyone wants to be friends with. Either way, if the booth is going to be a success or not, you know for a fact he's never going to be a part of the "cool kids" (good lord, can you believe people still use that term in college?) and he's gonna be stuck with you and your other friends for the rest of the years to come.

It didn't take long before they finally finished their elaborate PowerPoint Presentation (despite Connie insisting that Powerpoint is boring) that they were going to pitch to three of the principal members of the student council. Namely, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Hange Zoe.

It was gonna be an automatic no for Levi, obviously. Nothing could ever get past that man. But if they can somehow convince Erwin and most especially Hange to get on board with their stupid scheme, then the booth was good to go.

Now, here you are, in a bridal boutique. Purchasing some simple wedding dresses that will serve as your rent-a-dress service for the Marriage booth.

It wasn't originally a part of the plan. Not at all.

However, Hange would only approve of the project IF the wedding booth was going to be made into something more elaborate and memorable. They didn't want something as simple as printing out fake marriage contracts, cheap tulle fabric wedding veils, fake plastic bouquets, and wedding pictures that came out of a polaroid camera.

Oh no no no. They wanted it to be extravagant. The cream of the crop. The absolute bomb. The best booth at the festival.

Hange saw potential in the idea and with an approved budget by the student council, you could make anyone's wedding dreams come true.

Fast forward to a week before the event, you are currently on a shopping spree with Armin, Mikasa, and your boyfriend, Eren (because Sasha insisted he had the right proportions for the rental groom outfits. She totally did not ask him to come along so that he can see you try on wedding gowns.) to buy supplies, props, decorations, and everything else needed.

"(Y/N), we'll meet you and Eren at the bridal boutique, okay?" Armin proclaims, looking at the time on his wristwatch and struggling to balance the shopping bags on his other hand. Mikasa notices how much he's been struggling and offers to hold the bags for him.

"Sure! Don't forget about the list that Jean sent!" You shout back, turning to Eren as his fingers interlace with yours, making your merry way to the boutique whilst Armin and Mikasa go off the other direction.

"Don't get too excited." You joke, nudging Eren on the arm. "I'll just be trying on these dresses for the booth."

There's a particular glimmer in Eren's emerald eyes, chuckling at your quip. "Sheesh. Did you really have to remind me? Of course I know that. Besides, we're too young to even think about marriage right now. What's important is that I'm spending the best years of my life with you."

"Eren Grisha Jaeger, it is too damn early for you to make me a blushing pile of mess with your flirty comebacks." You deadpan, the heat rising up your cheeks as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.

The both of you laugh it off, shuffling into the store. The chiming bells of the shop door echo around the area as you look in awe at the luxurious dresses occupying every available space. The wafting smell of a vanilla pinecone scent and the soft sound of a sewing machine doing its work. There was a homey and rustic feel to this boutique that made you feel like you were sent back in time.

From great flouncy pieces adorned in layers of lace that rolled like ocean waves to more humble designs, albeit of the finest cloth.

This plethora of finery- reminds you strongly of the many genteel ladies depicted in those books and historic romances you used to read and watch. Like that of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.

Having the opportunity to enter a boutique such as this was a dream.

"Welcome! May I help you find anything?" A seamstress appears from the register. She looks at you from head to toe, as if trying to guess your measurements.

"W-we're looking for wedding dresses. Anything within the 200 to 300 dollar range? We don't need anything extra fancy, though! We'll just be needing them-"

Her eyes shift from you to Eren like she's suddenly a love coach, sizing the two of you up. "Yes, yes, young love! How sweet!" She chirps, breathing out a dreamy sigh. "Of course! For couples on a tight budget, we have-"

"We're looking for wedding dresses that can be used as costumes! Not too short and not too long either. W-we're not getting married or anything." You dismiss the seamstress with a wave of your hand. "I'm sorry if you thought of it that way..."

Although her shoulders visibly drop, the saleswoman still manages to smile. "Oh! I would like to apologize for assuming anything too!"

"Actually, mam, we do have plans sometime in the future." Eren grins cheekily, pulling you close to him. "Not today, of course, but we'll make sure to drop by in a few years!"

The saleslady's eyes lit up at Eren's vow. "Over here are some of our best-selling pieces! Ones that will certainly attract the eye of any groom!" She beckons you over to some mannequins lined up in the middle of the store, your gaze is drawn to the myriad of dresses on display as you walk throughout the space.

You turn back to Eren, studying him closely as he walks a few paces behind you, you thoughtfully wonder if the dresses you would pick out would match his taste.

She leads you to the back of the store to show the other garments and dresses embroidered with simplicity and yet elegance. You then pick two gowns up from their respective racks, satisfied with your purchase and making a beeline to the register to pay. However, the seamstress stops you from your tracks.

"How about this one, dear?"

You turn your attention to her, doe-eyed and curious as to what she was going to show you next.

"It is indeed a wedding dress, although not what you had asked for, the handsome young man did say something about your marriage plans. Perhaps this might help you visualize it? Give you an idea for the future, hm?" She hums wistfully, drawing your attention to the mannequin she placed in front of you. "It would be a shame if you left the boutique without trying anything on."

"(Y/N)?" You hear Eren's husky voice call out for you from the front of the store, "Armin just texted me. They can't find a specific prop in the crafts store so we might have to wait a bit longer for them."

"Okay! We can spare more time in the boutique, anyways." You answer back, before turning your attention to the seamstress once more.

"Alright. I think I'll try it on then."

"Trying it on" turned out to be more than you had imagined. You thought you could just slip inside the dress and show it off. But nope. You needed a few adjustments to dress, adornments in your hair, and had to wear a wedding veil.

It was almost as if you were actually preparing to be wed.

"Good sir, your lovely missus is ready!" Yup, even the words of the seamstress made you feel like you were living in the 17th century right now. Did she really have to use such fancy words?

"Please, watch your step." The seamstress takes your hand and leads you out of the dressing room and right towards—

Eren who had been waiting in the shop proper.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" She giggles, glancing at Eren for a response. "Well, I'll leave the two of you here first and bring the dresses you've chosen to the cash register first." In a wink, she's gone and had disappeared into the back almost before the words left her mouth.

The unfamiliar yet elegant garb makes you feel shy and the fact that Eren was gaping at you did not help at all. He was absolutely entranced by your beauty.

You unconsciously lower your head, tucking a strand of hair beneath your ear, unable to bear the thought.

"God, you're not just beautiful. Y-you look breathtaking."

He says in a barely audible whisper, pulling you to him once more.

Placing his hands on your waist, Eren plants a soft, tender kiss on your chest, the low-cut dress affording it easily. In a heartbeat, you feel your cheeks grow hot.

"Heh. Guess I got you again." He grins wolfishly, still admiring your beauty and tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I-I don't deserve you... I really don't."

"If you didn't deserve me, would you be here right now?" You say jokingly, raising your eyebrow.

"I mean it." He buries his face on the hem of your dress, his voice is muffled and soothing. "I can't believe you chose to love me." He looks up at you, eyes practically welling up with tears. "God, I honestly can't believe I'm crying right now, but, yeah... I am. That's how much I love you and how much I want to marry you right now."

You giggle at the expression your boyfriend has shown before you, stroking his hair and burying your fingers into his long brunette locks. "I love you too. But... why so sudden? You already told the saleswoman that we'll be back in a few years. She'd be surprised to hear you change your mind so easily."

"Well, if that's the case, then I better tell Jean to have us first on the list of the wedding booth then. We worked our asses off for this, might as well be the first to be blessed with the luck of that stupid booth."

You giggle once more as he continues to hold you so close. You feel his breath and his heartbeat. Each exhale and pulse brings you to the realization that Eren is the one. The man you want to be with for the rest of your life. The man who will help you through all your faults and mistakes, your burdens and troubles, through all the ups and downs... he will be there.

Just as you will be for him.

Guess those stupid movies centered around weddings weren’t so bad after all

.taglist: @crapimahuman

#snk x reader #aot x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #eren fluff #eren x y/n

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axwalker · 3 years ago

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Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.

Words: 4,110

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

Drake

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.

“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.

“I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

#tw domestic violence #toxic relationship #tw bullying

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yslkook · 4 years ago

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gorgeous

#corporate masterlist

summary: it’s the office holiday party, and when you show up wearing this dress, jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself. (jk pov) word count: 3014 warnings: alcohol, cursing, smut 18+- jk jerks it in a bathroom, he’s very into oc and she doesnt know it, jk is pining a/n: here is a lil holiday-esque drabble. this story takes place about a month after the team returns to seoul from ch 6. pls enjoy this first attempt at smut for jk. ty to @taestybae for her endless support <333

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect from this office holiday party- apparently there had been a huge budget surplus this year and the regulatory department had decided to go all out. The party planners had booked an evening at one of the ballrooms in one of swankiest hotels in Seoul. Meaning that the party itself was semi-formal, or close to it.

Meaning that Jungkook would rather be at home playing video games and eating pizza than dressed in a suit. He’s tired, it’s been a long few months, and he just wants to go home.

But he plays the part, and he plays the part well. Namjoon introduces him to a few people, higher ups, after he grabs a glass of spiced wine from the open bar.

Maybe he can at least get a little drunk. As a treat.

His thoughts drift to you for a moment. He wonders what you’re doing. Maybe he’ll text you later, if he’s feeling a little brave. Maybe with some liquid courage.

He’s already looking forward to it. But he doesn’t have to, because you walk in through the doors with Seokjin on your arm.

Jungkook audibly chokes on his wine when he spots you. Namjoon gives him a strange look but Jungkook ignores it, in favor of staring at you. Jungkook’s throat goes dry the closer both you and Seokjin get to him, Namjoon and Sana.

He can’t be next to you, not when you look like that. Not when you look so much more pretty than anything his own dreams could have conjured up.

“Hi, Jungkook,” You say, your voice low and sweet at the same time.

He nearly faints.

“Hi,” Jungkook mumbles, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh? Should I leave?” You tease, pointing at the door with your thumb.

“No, I just- I thought this was a reg thing?” Jungkook asks desperately, digging himself into a deeper hole. You only smile even wider at him.

“Oh, am I not good enough company for you people then?” You scoff, “Maybe we should leave, Sana.”

“No,” Jungkook nearly whines, “That’s not what I meant-”

Jin is having a blast watching Jungkook tripping over his words as the younger man confirms his own already existing suspicions.

Namjoon tells Jungkook that he had invited you and Sana and you reply saying that you had come along with Jin.

What you don’t say is that Jin probably would have found a way to drag you to this party regardless. His jaw had dropped when he had picked you up from your house and you’re flustered under his gaze, something that has only happened a handful of times since you’ve known Jin-

“What? Is it too much? I thought they said semi-formal,” You panic, “Jin, I don’t have anything else! Should I go change? Fuck it, I’m not coming. Jin! Will you say something!”

“You look good, stupid,” Jin says easily and unabashedly lets his eyes roam, “You’re sexy.”

“Oh.”

Your dark green dress hugs your curves but still leaves enough to the imagination. Jungkook’s eyes dart to your shoulders and the dip of your chest, where he sees more of your tattoo that he’s ever seen before. He swallows nervously and when you walk with Sana to the bar, he sees the slit in your dress and an eyeful of your thigh.

Jungkook chugs his drink. The pink flush of his cheeks can be attributed to alcohol after all.

You’re perfectly elegant and sexy, unaware that Jungkook is having a minor breakdown while trying to stave off popping a boner at this very public event.

He’s not having much luck.

Jungkook is now on his third glass of spiced wine, in an attempt to stop himself from searching for you. No matter where you are in the room, you seem to pop up in his periphery. Whether you’re speaking to Hae-ri, or you’re shoveling appetizers into your mouth with Seokjin, or you’re speaking with Namjoon’s boss… you always seem to be in his line of vision.

He seems to be one of the youngest people in the regulatory department, a fact that Jungkook’s colleagues seem to always want to bring up. Remarks of how they’re old and of ‘kids these days’ as they look pointedly at him, saying that he’s young and spry are the norm.

It’s annoying and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. He just grins and bears it, going through his third glass of wine much quicker than expected.

These people always say they want change and fresh ideas and somehow refuse to embrace them. It makes Jungkook scoff. He’s happy with his small team of Namjoon, you and Sana. He’s happy that you’re all young at heart and that things aren’t so competitive. He knows he’s blessed in that aspect.

Jungkook is thankful when Seokjin pulls him away to introduce him to his own boss-

“You’re Namjoon’s golden boy,” Seokjin shrugs, “Everyone already knows you.”

He wants to ask, do people know you? But he refrains, not wanting Jin to get the wrong idea. Jungkook shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when he sees you standing next to Namjoon with Jin’s boss and one of her colleagues.

Now he really has to keep himself in check. You make him weak and despite his best attempts to avoid looking at you, his eyes land on you anyway. And how can he not turn his gaze to you?

He’s a goner, and he knew it from the minute he saw you walk into the venue.

Jungkook watches your red lips move as you speak with Seokjin’s boss and he vaguely wonders how your lipstick has remained intact this long. Your laugh is like music in his ears, you even throw your head back in genuine mirth at something that Seokjin’s boss says.

You’re not watching him. So he sips his wine and allows himself to enjoy your presence, all wrapped up in front of him in possibly the prettiest dress on the prettiest woman he’s ever met.

Your whole body shakes as you laugh unabashedly and fully and Jungkook dares to ogle your chest for longer than he should of a colleague. But you’re you, and he’s just a boy.

You’re his dream girl and he’s just a boy.

He wonders what your skin might taste like- you always smell so good, the faint scent of something warm and comforting always surrounds you. Your skin is glowing, the ink on your shoulders shining with the light from the chandeliers above.

And then your thigh peeks out and the sight of your leg sends an arrow of arousal straight down his spine. Jungkook thinks he catches a glimpse of color on your upper thigh but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

His throat is dry again. He needs another drink.

While he wants to look at you in peace as if you were a painting made just for him, he wants your attention too. Before he can slide into the conversation and see your pretty eyes light up for him, you turn to him on your own.

“Hi,” You murmur to him once it’s clear that Seokjin has steered the conversation with his boss away from you, “Feel like I didn’t get to say hello to you properly earlier.”

“O-oh,” Jungkook mumbles, “No worries.”

“Got any plans for the holidays?” You ask softly. Your voice rings loud and clear in his ears, the sweet taste of wine on his tongue has nothing on what he imagines your lips feel like against his.

“J-just goin’ to my parents’. My brother’s coming for a few days, with his girlfriend,” Jungkook says, letting himself relax around you. It’s easy for him to do, when you give him a smile and a laugh that makes his heart lurch.

“Oh! You have a brother,” You reply, “Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Ah, so you’re the baby of the house,” You tease, looking at him over the rim of your glass. Jungkook is momentarily distracted by the glossy taupe of your nails. And then his eyes travel up your fingers, as he catches exactly two small tattoos over your knuckles.

“I’m not the baby,” Jungkook complains and your teasing eyes melt away, instead replaced by a warm ember of something more. Your eyes are dark and hooded as you take him in, and it sets his blood alight.

“I know, Jungkook,” You murmur, your voice low and raspy. The corner of your lips quirk up into a smirk and all Jungkook can do is swallow his nerves down. He feels like he’s vibrating, just from your simple look. He preens in your gaze, wanting any and all of your attention.

Not for the first time, he struggles to keep his eyes above your neckline. Jungkook chugs the rest of his wine hastily and your eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jungkook is struggling to maintain his composure and if he doesn’t get his shit together, you’ll surely notice the small tent in his pants. Only you, looking so gorgeous in green can pull this kind of reaction from him with just a few words.

Jungkook is a sucker.

The hungry look in your eyes passes and instead you ask him about his brother and his family. He falls into easy conversation with you, telling you about last year’s holiday and how he had baked about fifty cookies too many for his family so he had eaten them all instead. He asks you what you usually do for the holiday, to which you reply that sometimes you and Grandma spend it with Seokjin and his family.

The lines between colleagues and friendship have long been blurred between you and Jungkook. At least, that’s how you feel. Normally, you wouldn’t offer that kind of information up to a colleague. But Jungkook feels like a little more than a colleague to you.

“Uh. Do you want to sit with me and eat?” You ask almost shyly and Jungkook feels his cheeks heating up. He nods immediately and follows you to the buffet line, enjoying the way your ass looks in that dress and eating up any glimpse of your leg he can get.

Happy holidays, indeed.

“How messy do you think these people get after a few glasses of wine?” You muse, observing the higher ups chatting with each other on the other side of the room.

“Pretty damn messy,” Jungkook replies, “Look at Hae-ri, she’s wasted. And Yunho too-”

“Maybe there will be a day where we can act like that and not worry about whether we’ll be fired or not the next day…”

“It’s all about control,” Jungkook says knowingly, “You just gotta fake it till you make it.”

“Don’t gotta tell me that twice,” You scoff, “I feel like I can never get drunk at these things. Feels like big brother is watching, you know?”

“Can’t relate,” Jungkook says smoothly, “What’s the point of a work party if you won’t take advantage of the open bar?”

You laugh loudly, and Jungkook nearly jumps when your hand floats over his forearm to steady yourself. Jungkook sharply turns his face towards yours, meeting your electric eyes. You cross one leg over the other, the skirt of your dress falling a little bit to the side.

And Jungkook sees even more of your upper thigh tattoo than he had before. Now he knows for certain that your ink wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry,” You mumble.

He doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for, but he misses the heat of your hand when you place it back in your lap.

When you ask him if he wants to get seconds at the buffet with you, he immediately nods. You say nothing as he reflexively puts his hand at the small of your back. He’s a man, but he’s a gentleman, after all.

The simple touch and heat of your skin through the fabric of your dress is enough of a memory for him to store for later. He allows himself the luxury of it and when you stand a little closer to him, he can’t help himself from letting his thoughts wander.

Jungkook needs to leave. He needs to either find a bathroom or get his ass home, because the longer he’s in your presence, the harder it is for him to conceal himself from you.

Specifically, his boner. His cock seems to jump whenever you’re in his line of sight and it’s messing with his head.

He’s painfully hard by the point in the night when speeches from the higher ups are being made. They’re thanking the department for their hard work for the year and wishing everyone a prosperous new year. Meanwhile Jungkook isn’t paying attention.

He’s tipsy and he’s thinking about how you’d fit in the crevices of his hands. He’s thinking about how your hips might feel in his hands, how the column of your throat would taste, how you’d look with his head buried in between your inked thighs.

He wants to shove his face into your tits and he nearly groans out loud at the thought. He wonders how his cock would look in your hands, how you’d stroke him, how your mouth would feel…

Jungkook sneaks away from the ballroom in search of a private bathroom. He leaves quietly, not wanting to answer questions. Not when he’s this painfully hard, and the mere thought of you in that dress is seemingly enough for him to cum in his pants.

He swiftly walks through the halls with his jacket subtly covering the front of his pants. He’s mortified that it’s come to this, but if he doesn’t make himself cum in the next ten minutes he might explode.

Jungkook finally finds a bathroom and shoves himself inside, immediately standing in front of the mirror and pulling his belt off.

He’s so desperate. He wonders if you’d like that, if you’d like his desperation that stems from you.

Jungkook pulls his cock out of the confines of his boxers and strokes himself slowly at first. Teasingly. He sighs softly at the relief that his right hand gives him.

Fuck. Would you like that? Would you like that he’s this desperate for you? Would you praise him?

He squeezes his eyes shut, pretending that it’s your hand on his cock and not his own. He can see you in his mind, your lipstick beyond smudged, eyes watery and your dress rumpled.

He can see your tattoos on display for him, the ones on your shoulder, your chest and your thigh. Maybe you’d even tell him that they all mean.

The thought sends another rush of blood to his cock. He pumps himself faster, groaning softly and biting his bottom lip.

He imagines you telling him to be loud for you, to let you hear him. In that low, sexy voice.

Jungkook moans your name into the empty bathroom. He’s long been leaking precum from his cock, perhaps since the moment he laid eyes on you. He’s so close…

Everything suddenly feels magnified- his touch on his cock, the thought of your tits spilling over the bodice of your dress. The feel of your lips on his.

His mind runs wild when it comes to you.

Jungkook strokes himself even faster, only to stop abruptly. Start, stop. Start, stop. He whines to himself and peels his eyes open to watch himself in the mirror. His eyes are hooded, cheeks reddened and lips pouty and swollen from biting down.

He needs more than his own hand. He needs friction.

Without a second thought, he plasters his hands over the counter and rocks his hips into the edge of the surface. With a loud, broken moan he grinds into the counter. Wondering how your pussy might feel instead of the cold surface. Or your hands. Or your tits.

He slows down to a slow grind, teasing himself with the thought of you. What would you look like when he made you cum? What would you look like when you came on your own fingers?

He speeds up a little more, groaning and whimpering as the need to cum quickly approaches. The knot in his belly has become even tighter, ready to burst. Jungkook feels like his skin is on fire, his hands doing little to alleviate it.

He pulls off of the counter and strokes himself harshly with rough tugs, groaning your name under his breath. Jungkook thinks about you, waking up next to you after a nap together, bringing you ice cream after a long day, kissing you just because he can in his fantasies.

Thick ropes of white coat his hands and spray across the counter recklessly as he moans brokenly for nobody to hear.

Jungkook’s knees feel weak as he tries to regain his breath. He braces himself on the counter before taking a paper towel to clean himself up. After, he wets a paper towel with soap and cleans up the counter and the mirror.

His cheeks are blazing once the gravity of what he just did hits him. How is he supposed to face you now?

He doesn’t regret it. You’re his dream girl.

It’s no surprise that soon after Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, the closing remarks are just about to finish. That’s great timing because once they do, he’s booking it out of the hotel as fast as he can.

And that’s exactly what he does. He leaves, only saying goodbye to Namjoon and makes a beeline for the exit. His Uber is already waiting for him.

He doesn’t notice you looking for him to say goodbye.

It’s later, when he’s in the safety of his bedroom and in his pajamas, that his phone lights up-

you: hey, u must have left before I found you. Just wanted to say bye and happy holidays Jk 💓

Jungkook can’t help his heart doing cartwheels or the smile on his face at your text.

He also can’t help his cock from jumping, either.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader

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restlessfandoming · 4 years ago

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“the president and the troublemaker” (part 6) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 6)

Out of all the things asked of her as the student council president, this was the oddest request Lumine had ever received.

“Please allow me to study you,” the student before her asked.

She recognized him as Albedo, head of the school’s science club, and before, she had only ever interacted with him whenever his club submitted budget requests for new materials.

Lumine blinked at him. “Can I ask why?”

He pulled out a news article. It was last week’s coverage of the attackers getting caught by her. “I am interested in your abilities,” Albedo replied simply. “How you can be this studious president and yet also be able to do things like this.”

Uh-oh. “Oh, it was nothing,” she fibbed. “They just let their guard down and I was able to...outsmart them. No big deal.”

The science leader gave her a deadpan stare. “There must be something else.” He pulled out a notebook, beginning to scribble some words out. “We can figure this out together; what makes our school’s president so competent?”

Lumine glanced at his writing, only making out the words ‘Day One Observations.’ She sighed. Looks like he’s a persistent one.

“So how’s this going to work?” she wondered. “Are you just going to shadow me around school?”

Albedo looked up at her from his book. “Very good. You already understand my process.”

“And what of your classes?”

He pulled out a slip of paper from his bag, handing it to her. “I have been excused from my classes for the week by my teachers,” he explained. “As you can see here on his paper, they have all allowed it due to my high grades and the fact that I have completed my work ahead of time.”

Lumine looked over the paper, and sure enough, it was everything Albedo had just stated. She remembered he was also a young, gifted prodigy: one of the students with the highest marks on their exams, and had won their school multiple science competitions in the past.

“Very well,” Lumine said. “Just for this week.”

What am I getting myself into?

* * *

For the first few days, Albedo followed her around the school—observing her in her classes, writing down notes while she ran council meetings. Any moment where she wasn’t in class, he would barrage her with questions: what her diet consisted of, how many hours of sleep she got, her exercise regiment.

She answered as truthfully as she could, but if the questions came too close to her line of work, she of course had to mislead him.

Whenever she lied, Albedo went deep into his thoughts, as if he knew that what she said didn’t make sense, and his brain was trying to fit her lies into the picture. She prayed that he would stop prying once the week was over.

“Are you sure you do not exercise at all?” Albedo asked again, skimming over his notes.

“Nope,” Lumine said. “I’m a little too busy with studying and council duties.” She gestured at the council room around them.

“Hmm,” the prodigy hummed, writing something in the margins of his paper. Lumine turned back to her council paperwork.

“So the rumors are true,” Childe’s voice sounded from the doorway. “The Pres got herself a little pet.”

Lumine froze. What is Childe doing?

At school, the two were very much still in their roles as the council president and school troublemaker. No one knew about their connection outside of school.

She glanced at Albedo, who was looking at Childe with calculating eyes. She could see the gears turning in his mind.

Lumine cleared her throat. “Childe, please go back to class before I write you up.”

The tall ginger leaned on the doorframe. “I get written up, but your pet gets to stay?”

“He is not my pet,” Lumine said. “This is Albedo. He’s just doing...a study...on me.” So LEAVE, Childe.

Childe’s brows raised. “A study? That’s why he’s been following you around this whole time?” He turned to the blonde scientist. “Tell me, what’s this study about?”

Albedo sat up a little straighter. “What causes the president to have such extraordinary abilities.”

Childe laughed. “Extraordinary abilities? Like what?”

Albedo glanced at his notebook. “She is an extremely diligent student, receiving high marks on her exams while still somehow maintaining on top of student council affairs. Not only that, but in light of recent events, has some aptitude to disarming violent attackers that should have easily overpowered any other high school girl.” He looked up. “I’ve also heard that she, and her brother, have jobs after school despite their already busy school schedules.”

Both Lumine and Childe stared at Albedo for a second, unmoving, shocked and...impressed at his information.

“Seems like you already know everything about her,” Childe said, crossing his arms. “Do you even need to continue your little study?”

“Of course,” Albedo responded. “Those were just the things our President has done—not how she does it.” The scientist turned to her, his eyes studying. “Is it psychological? Or is there something physically different about her body, the way it runs and operates?”

Lumine forced herself to still under his gaze. He was a young genius. And he was getting closer to finding out her secret.

“Nothing special about me,” she told him. “I told you, I’m just lucky.”

Suddenly, Childe sat on the edge of her desk, breaking her and Albedo’s eye contact. “So this study,” he said looking down at the scientist, “Is this just something you’re doing at school? Or are you following her around at home too?”

Lumine desperately wanted to shove Childe off her desk. Why was he prying so much? Albedo would soon connect the dots, and once anyone found out about their connection, she would lose any credibility she had as the council president.

Albedo was quiet, his hand coming to his chin as he considered something. “No one has been this curious about the study so far,” he finally said. “Not even her twin.”

“Aether’s been a little busy lately,” Lumine tried to suggest.

But Albedo persisted. “Are you actually a friend of the President?” he asked Childe. “Or perhaps you are interested in her romantically?”

Lumine almost choked on her spit. “Absolutely not,” she blurted. “To both of those.” She couldn’t look at Childe. “If you know so much about me, then you probably know about how Childe here is the school’s number one troublemaker. He's just here to cause trouble.”

The blonde scientist slowly nodded. “Very true.” He turned to Childe once more. “Apologies for jumping to conclusions there. It was not very proper of me.”

Lumine finally glanced up at Childe, who was sitting surprisingly silent, his arms still crossed from earlier. She swore his blue eyes seemed darker than usual.

“Conclusions,” Childe echoed. He stood up. “The Pres is right,” he said, smiling. Something was still wrong with his eyes. “I’m just here to mess around, nothing more.” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “And now it’s boring. Later, nerds.” He sauntered out of the room.

Lumine knew she should have been letting out a sigh of relief, but for some odd reason, it felt like an even heavier weight had been placed on her.

“I think I need to be alone for a bit,” Lumine said to Albedo. “To get this council work done.”

Albedo stood, gathering his notes. “I understand. Thank you for your time today.”

As soon as Albedo left the room, Lumine left as well, her council work still incomplete.

Instead, she headed to the one place she knew Childe would be.

* * *

Opening the door to the rooftop, the tiniest of weights was lifted upon seeing Childe sitting there, legs dangling off the edge as always.

He turned at the sound of the door opening, but turned back away when seeing Lumine. “Am I in the way of your little pet’s study?” he said, monotone.

She ignored the tiny pang in her heart, and she stepped forward. “Don’t take it personally; I just...can’t let him get closer to my secret,” she tried to explain. “You understand that, right?”

Childe leaned back onto his elbows, looking upwards at the sky. “I get it,” he responded. “Even if I don’t want to.”

The silence was heavy, only the slightest wind whistling by. And honestly, Lumine hated it. It didn’t feel right to be in Childe’s presence, and not hear his voice. She had grown used to his teasing, how he always seemed to showed up in the right place at the right time somehow—for her.

She went and sat next to him, knees drawn to her chest, arms hugging her legs.

“Is it stupid of me to want and keep this secret?” she wondered aloud. She looked up at the sky as well. “Or would it just be better for me to let it out finally?”

“Is this because of Albedo?” Childe asked without missing a beat.

“No. Yes. Kind of.” She sighed. “I mean, it would be easier if I told him, right? No more pretending?” She hugged her knees tighter. “If he finds out on his own...I can only imagine that feeling of betrayal—how evil, how untrustworthy I would seem for keeping secrets. So, it would be better if I was upfront about it...right?”

Childe looked at her, his expression serious. “Is this something you want for yourself or for him?”

Lumine turned away from him. “If it’s for myself...I’m too scared of letting others know.” She swallowed the lump down her throat. “A lot of people, like Albedo, look up to me as this model student. And I’m scared of...disappointing them.”

Childe was silent for a moment, then sat up, and pulled something out of his shirt pocket. She turned back to him.

He held it up to Lumine; it was the photo of her in Kaeya’s white dress, her face sweet and flushed. Except, unlike the official photo, this version didn’t have Childe cropped out. “You’re not one to let others influence you,” he said. “That’s why I chose the color white, remember?”

Lumine felt the heat start building up in her face. “You just carry that around with you?”

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “For inspiration.” He tilted his head. “You know that you should do whatever feels right to you. And whatever you end up doing, the right people will follow you.” Waving the photo around, he smiled again, more cheekily this time, and said, “I know that I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Lumine was sure her face was visibly burning up by now, and she reached for the photo. “Stop waving it around! What if someone sees?!”

He pulled it further away from her. “No one’s going to see, Pres!”

She tried going for it again, quicker this time, but Childe was much faster. “Give it here!” she demanded.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Pres!” He laughed. “It’s my good luck charm!”

“Your good luck charm?!” she continued over their tug-of-war. “Good luck charm for what?”

Another teasing smile. “Love?”

“Oh, you son of a—”

Lumine lunged and hit his hand.

The photo was sent flying away from both of them.

…

!!!

Both she and Childe quickly stood up, peering over the edge of the rooftop, only to see the photo floating down...towards Lumine’s student council members below.

“Oh dear,” Childe said. “Look what you’ve done now, Pres.”

Lumine’s heart felt like it was seizing from fear. “Wh-what—W-Why are they there?” Her breaths became shorter and shorter. “Oh, god, what do I do?!”

“Shall I go get it?”

Lumine looked at Childe, wide-eyed. “There’s no way! It’s impossible for us to get to it before they do…”

Childe blinked, then positioned himself like he was about to jump off.

As fast as lightning, Lumine grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Taking the shortest way down.”

“You idiot! It’s dangerous, you’re going to die!”

He smiled. He actually smiled at a time like this? “I’m not one to shy away from danger,” he told her. “Especially if you tell me you want me to go after it.”

“What?! Why would you do something like that?!”

“Why?”

The wind stopped rustling the trees, and the rooftop was silent.

Childe gently grabbed both sides of Lumine’s face, his ocean blue eyes looking deeply into hers.

“Because I love you, Lumine.”

He kissed her.

He kissed her, then he jumped off the rooftop.

* * *

[part 7]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #childe #lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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kumkaniudaku · 4 years ago

Text

Understanding

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17

Recommended Listening: Understanding x Xscape, Purple Emoji (ft. J. Cole) x Ty Dolla $ign, My World x Asian

Word Count: 2,137

If you were going to win an award that afternoon, it’d be for attire, not confidence. Your expertly crafted golf outfit was the only thing willing your feet forward once you parked your car in front of Senior’s golf course.

Black women and men dressed like modern Jet magazine ads waltzed in and out of the clubhouse while you scanned the area for your party. You’d been to your fair share of golf courses, but none as exquisite as The National. Marble accents complemented modern brass finishes and unbeatable views of the city. The desire to take photos for your father was almost too much to shake, but you managed to play it cool. Acting out of place was surely some type of faux pas for the wealthy.

Across the way, Senior sat at the bar sipping a glass of water while thumbing through a newspaper. His furrowed brow was identical to Yahya’s whenever he was knee-deep in work or a good book. The mental comparison made you smile before ushering in a tinge of sadness. For two people so undeniably similar, they were miles apart physically and mentally.

You navigated through groups of young and old alike on the way to the bar.

“You made it on time,” Senior spoke without looking up from a story on education budget cuts.

“I made it with time to spare.”

“You don’t get praise for doing what’s right.”

“Think of how much better things would be if we did.”

Senior paused his reading to take a deep breath and shake his head. You mentally berated yourself for overstepping so soon. Not even five minutes into the outing and you had already committed an avoidable infraction

Yahya I prolonged the unbearable silence as he continued to read through another article, reading each line painstakingly slow while you watched in agony.

“I apologize. That was unnecessary.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he spoke, finally looking away from the newspaper to study your face. “Let’s leave the character right here. We’re here for a purpose, so grab your clubs and follow me to the first hole. I hope your game is as good as you are at running your mouth.” Taking his retort in stride, you quickly grabbed your set of clubs and followed with no objections. “After you.”

Senior found himself immediately impressed though he wouldn’t verbalize his feelings. He watched you breeze through each hole with near expert precision, opening a series of questions at hole 5 during casual small talk.

“Where’d you say you were from again?”

“A tiny town in South Carolina that you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Try me,” he answered while taking stock of his position on the fairway.

“Anderson, South Carolina. Home of Larry Nance and the great Chadwick Boseman.”

“Can’t forget James Kennedy, Young Lady.”

You cocked your head back in surprise. “What you know about Radio? I mean outside of what the movie says?”

Senior remained quiet long enough to take a hard swing. The loud “whiff” of his driver slicing through crisp, clean air didn’t match the stroke’s output. Both of you watch the golf ball sail high into the air before making a landing well short of the intended destination. Senior shook his head at the miscalculation before turning to answer your question.

“Black folks from all over are connected, even without all that Snapgram and Facebook foolishness.”

“I could argue it’s helped, right? How else would you be able to share your granddaughter’s first steps with the whole family?”

“In photo albums. You might not remember those, but they did us just fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s instantaneous conversation and information. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Maybe instantaneous conversation is the problem. We aren’t making enough time to stop and really think about what we’re saying to each other.”

“Mm.” You let the conversation naturally taper before following Senior to his golf cart. The rolling hills provided enough scenery to keep you interested while you sorted the words in your head.

“I think we may have started off on the wrong foot.” You spoke once the cart came to a full stop. Senior trailed behind in silence, gathering a new club while watching you examine the other golfers in the area.

“You’re rather observant.”

You chuckled and plucked a club from your bag. “I’ve been told. Yahya calls me Eagle Eye when I catch something he’s already talked about ten minutes ago.”

“It’s what his Big Mama used to call his Pop-Pop for the same thing. That man was notoriously late to the punchline.” The nostalgia in Yahya I’s voice caught you off guard though he didn’t see your minor fumble. Something in his retelling appealed to your sense of compassion in a way that you considered long gone when it came to him.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You have an issue with my presence that we should discuss. Because I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bold,” Senior responded with a sarcastic laugh. He gestured to nothing in particular as you squared up to take a swing and nodded. “And direct. Continue.”

You took a moment to hit a line drive toward the green in the distance, using the movement as an outlet for the unexpected nerves churning your stomach. Both of you quietly watch the golf ball for its final resting place before you turned to speak.

“You are extremely hard to please, and it is literally ruining your family. Yahya does everything in his power, and, excuse my French, you don’t seem to give a fuck. Why is that?”

“What makes you think that my love isn’t what makes me push him to be the best that he can? It may not be the fluff and frills you’re used to in your home, but it’s what he needs to get him to his potential.”

“Did it help you?”

Senior mistakenly allowed a quick moment of confusion to take over his features. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You tell me. When’s the last time you enjoyed a laugh with your family or felt like you could just...be? You’re carrying a weight that is crushing the people around you, and you don’t even see it.”

“You don’t…” Senior caught his words and bottled them behind his lips. He took a deep breath as he approached his golf ball and took a half-hearted swing. Noticing his misstep, he shook his head. “I’m from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My father, Yahya’s Pop-Pop, moved my mother and me to a shotgun shack to find work when things weren’t quite shaking out back home. He was in and out of trouble and such. Couldn’t get right, but he had a natural knack for building and design.”

A nearby group of golfers erupted into laughter, helping to break up some tension.

“So architecture’s been in the family for a while,” you asked. Yahya I curled the corner of his lips into a far-off smile.

“A long, long time. It got us out of that shack when my siblings came along and into a house with our own rooms and a backyard. But, my father was a hard man. Hard to please, you know,” he laughed, making a reference to your earlier words. “He wanted the best from me, and he made damn sure he got it. I needed that to get my head out of the clouds.”

“You also needed some reassurance.”

“Perhaps. But, what’s done is done. I look at what I’ve built with no complaints, especially when it comes to my boys. I couldn’t be more proud of the men they’ve become.”

Senior’s proud smile almost looked foreign on his face. You’d never seen more than an indifferent expression or the slight twinge of anger smoldering behind his eyes.

Leaning on your club, you kept your eyes forward to gaze out over the course.

“Yahya would love to hear that. I don’t know if you know this, but he is desperately searching for your approval. There is not enough praise from me or anyone else that could replace knowing that you’re proud of him. Yet, as much as he would like to tell you these things himself, he’s afraid that you’ll think less of him for being vulnerable.”

“I could never think less of the boy. Tough love is still love.”

“Maybe for you,” you added, shrugging. “But, what good is continuing this cycle if it’s hurting the children you claim to love and the grandchildren after them?”

Senior dropped his head in thought before looking up with an unreadable expression. “Deuce will be fine. He’s all the best parts of his mother. I...I’m confident he’ll figure out fatherhood on his own despite my shortcomings. We raised him well.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping -”

“That has never stopped you before, young lady.” His light-hearted chuckle invited you to follow suit.

“Fair point,” you laughed. “So, let me cut to the chase. Allowing Yahya to just ‘figure things out’ is a passive existence. Yahya says you’re constantly reminding him to take things into his own hands. Sounds like you should take your own advice. Be the parts of your father that you needed at 33.”

Instead of acknowledging your advice, Senior twirled his club in his hand on the way to the golf cart. He maintained an impenetrable poker face that even the most skilled readers couldn’t interpret. You silently hoped that at least some of your words had made it through his thick skull, but you chose to let the discussion meet a natural end.

As he started the cart, Senior turned to you and smiled. “How the hell you learn to swing like that? I know it wasn’t in Anderson.”

“Hey, we play a little golf here and there!”

“Where? Out in the woods?”

“No, out in the Bayou like you did.”

A small smirk crept across your face as Yahya I chuckled at your joke. He sounded identical to Yahya, full of mirth and beautiful melodies.

“The ole Bayou,” he repeated in a thick accent. “You ain’t seen a place more beautiful in your life.”

“Maybe Yahya and I could visit one day.”

He quickly looked over and shrugged. “Maybe. For now, you focus on defending this lead. I think I’m getting back into my rhythm.”

Senior couldn’t make a convincing comeback, but he did show glimpses of a softer, more personable disposition. He cracked jokes on occasion and asked questions that turned the conversation from a therapy session to banter between associates. Your mind traveled to the possibility of civil family dinners or vacations during the ride home. Though it seemed silly to create imaginary scenarios after one conversation, you couldn’t help the urge to see a better future.

Your happiness helped you float into your shared apartment, making Yahya smile when he caught a glimpse of your wide grin and short skirt.

“Damn, girl,” he hollered from the couch with Leche cradled in his arms. “If Tiger was out there cheeked up like that, I might’ve paid a little more attention to the golf network.”

“Oh, really?”

Your raised eyebrow made Yahya kiss his teeth once he caught on to the joke. “You know what I meant. Where you been anyway?”

“Oh, I was just out doing a little golfing...with your dad.”

“Right. That was today, huh?”

Even Yahya’s best attempt at feigning interest, his question came out in a flat drone typically used on annoying coworkers. You dropped your purse and keys against a nearby barstool on the way to his spot on the couch.

“It was today. I think we had a good time,” you answered as you slid your arms around his neck from behind, placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. “He didn’t yell at me.”

“You must’ve kissed his ass the entire time.”

“No. We talked about how great I am at golf. I mean, I kicked his ass.”

“Good on you, baby girl. Bring honor to our house.” In a surprise maneuver, Yahya pulled you over the couch and into the space beside him. “Is that all?”

Silence blanketed the room, allowing the college basketball game in the background to have center stage. You considered your options carefully, weighing the pros of a potential argument against a peaceful Saturday indoors. Yahya turned his attention back to the television as he waited for a response.

“Did you hear me, baby? He didn’t say anything rude to you, did he?”

“No!” You blurted. Taking a deep breath, you slowly slid the remote off the coffee table and pressed the power button. Yahya blinked twice at his reflection on the black television screen before turning to you for answers. Your fingers danced across his thighs to interlock with his long digits.

“I think...I think we need to have a real talk about your dad.”

----

A/N: I hope this is better late than never. Only two more chapters left! Really striving to have those to y’all by the end of the month.

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@earthformelanin @mufasathatniggatho @hidden-treasures21@justanotherloveaffair @jozigrrl @essaysbyciara @chaneajoyyy@determinednot2fall @honey-lamb-k @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @walkrightuptothesun @ghostfacekill-monger @trillistb@shaekingshitup @purplehairgawdess @xo-goldengirl@steampunkprincess147 @twistedcharismaaa @fandomfavesss@bugngiz @lifelover4u @ljstraightnochaser @l-auteuse @itsjustyazz@energy-innerg @lahuttor @sagittariusroyalty@chrisgalore @grandadchadwick @blowmymbackout@supersizemeplz @just-peachee @itskikilove @eyeknowmywrites @aanairb @blackburnbook @leahnicole1219 @lovedersha @cant-decide-at-this-moment @jasmindaughteroftheworld

#Yahya Abdul Mateen II #Yahya Abdul-Mateen II #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction #yahya abdul mateen ii fic

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nythberryy · 4 years ago

Text

Hold Me Tight (Erwin x fem!Reader)

I wrote an Attack on Titan fanfiction (oneshot) in which Erwin Smith is a real gentleman.

Words: 2955

Warning:

The story contains 18+ scenes and builds up slow.

-They'd known each other for a long time, yet none of them confessed until that rainy night.-

It starts a bit sad, but trust me, it ends well. 💞

It's my first story written in English, so I apologize for grammatical mistakes and cringe writing.

I hope you’ll still find it enjoyable. 💞

(I also posted it on ao3. You can find me there as: NythBerry)

Thank you for your time!✨

September was usually gilded by the last sunbeams of summer, however that day was colder than usual. As clouds gathered, the sky turned grey. Raindrops began to knock on the red tile roof just to then fall and soak the ground. It was raining all day without a break. Everyone from the city struggled to get through the mud. The carts couldn't fight it, the horses neighed as they tried to push forward. Wooden wheels crackled, some even broke in two.

A tall man walked into the guesthouse. Water was slowly dripping from his clothes. With each step he made, he left a puddle on the freshly washed floor. (Y/N) recognized him in a blink of an eye though his face was covered by the green hood he was wearing. He stopped at the counter and revealed his face. His blonde hair, that was always slicked back nicely, now was a mess. Wet strands fell on his forehead.

(Y/N) put down the mop and wiped her hands to greet the man. "Erwin!"

"Good evening, (Y/N)! I'd like to book a room for tonight."

"What happened to your trousers?" it was covered in mud to the knee "Is it that bad outside?"

"It's raining quite heavily" he said "I don't think I would be able to go back tomorrow."

"I'll prepare a room for you. Just sit down please. There's no one here anyway, except an elderly couple upstairs. Do you want to drink something warm? Tea maybe?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

Erwin took a seat in front of the counter and watched the woman placing the teapot on the stove. She quickly ran into the pantry and returned with a basket full of baked goods. She put some on a plate and gave it to the man.

"How's your father?" he asked while (Y/N) wiped the floor again. Her father owned this little guesthouse that once was famous.

"He's alright. But I'm afraid we won't be able to afford his medications. Less and less people can afford to book a room and we simply can't make the prices cheaper. I don't really know what to do."

"Don't worry, (Y/N)!" a kind hoarse voice appeared from behind. It was her father. "Welcome, Commander Smith! What brings you here again?"

"Good evening!" he greeted back. "Just another budget negotiation. As usual, the government has no intentions of increasing funds."

"As much as I want to support the Scouts, I unfortunately see why they don't want to do so in moments like this." Her father was in the regiment before he retired. Erwin and he shared similar views on the importance of going beyond the walls. "(Y/N)! Go prepare a room and find some clothes for him."

While she went to search dry clothes that would fit the commander, the two man began to talk about a different topic.

"I know why you visit this place so often" chuckled the father as he opened a bottle of whisky. He poured them both. "I see how you look at her."

For a moment Erwin didn't know what to say, which was quite unusual of him. A small smile curved his lips. "So, you found out my secret."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. I have eyes. It's that simple." he sipped "You've known my daughter for years. Since when...?"

"It's one of those things that just can't be put in words. It was four years ago, that moment I realized I wanted to see her as many times as I could."

"Why didn't you tell her? You're afraid I'd bring the rifle? Or maybe you're more afraid of her? You think she would reject you?" he smiled "I can tell she has feelings for you too. Haven't you noticed how excited she is seeing you? She's not even looking at other guys, though she's in the age of marriage. What will she do when I'll be gone? At least you, as a commander, would make a great reputation for her." he joked "She'll be left alone like the last leaf on a tree before winter begins."

"That's why I won't tell her. I don't want to cause pain." he grabbed the glass and drank from it "To be honest, I don't even know if I'll be here next month. There's just no guarantee." he sighed "But I'm a selfish man. I still want to see her every time I'm near her. I'm truly the worst. I can't give her happiness, only suffering. I don't want (Y/N) to lose more people."

(Y/N)'s father knew Erwin was right. Her mother passed away, when she was fourteen; lost many loved ones when Shiganshina fell. Childhood friends, friends whom she trusted the most, old neighbours she liked and nearly all relatives of their family were gone now.

Both men knew the feeling. Without further words they agreed and sat back quietly.

(Y/N) heard the conversation. When she heard that Erwin had feelings for her, she thought her heart was going to break through her ribcage, like a desperate bird ready to be free. However, as he continued, her hearth shattered into pieces. (Y/N) pretended she didn't hear anything and told the blonde man his room was ready. He stood up and walked towards the stairs where she was standing.

"Change into these" she gave him the dry clothes "I'll knock on your door in ten minutes."

...

"Can I come in?" she asked. Erwin replied with a yes. (Y/N) walked into the room catching a glimpse of the commander's chest while he was buttoning the last button. He picked up the soaked clothes from the chair and held it out for (Y/N).

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"Erwin..." she began faintly and grabbed his arm "We need to talk."

"About what?" he looked surprised.

"I heard everything and-"

Erwin interrupted. "You don't have to worry about it. I won't do anything." he shook her hand off.

"You don't even want to know how I feel?"

"What would it change? You should find someone better. Someone who can be there for you. Someone who's not selfish. There're many good men out there."

"What about my choice? You think you can make decisions for me?"

He put the clothes back on the chair. "I don't want to put you through hell."

"It's already hell." she said with a slight hitch in her voice "You have no idea how long... How long I've ... Erwin..." Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

It pained him to see the woman, whom he loved the most, looking so defeated.

"I love you, Erwin!" she cried out "And nothing can change that."

It snapped him out of his stubbornness for a second. He gently pulled (Y/N) into a hug, placing her head on his chest. The feeling of his warmth and beating hearth was pure heaven.

"I want you. Only you."

"(Y/N), I can't give you happiness."

"What it is at all?" she sniffled. "There's no such thing as that... It's not a destination you can arrive to and stay there for the rest of your life. Happiness is a temporary state. It comes and goes. And... What defines it anyways?

"I still don't want you to get hurt. Especially because of me." he paused for a bit "I could die at any time. What if I go on a mission and never come back?"

"You think I don't know that, Erwin? Every time you go out the walls I worry, but... Did you know that in this awful world you're the one who keeps me alive?" she pressed herself against his comforting chest "And what about you? You think you don't deserve your so-called happiness? If you have feelings for me, why don't you..."

As she looked up, her eyes met with his. Tears were coming to his sky-blue eyes.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?"

"I am. I want you to hold me tight and never let go."

...

Erwin placed his hand on her face caressing her cheek gently with his thumb. He leaned closer to kiss her forehead, then gave another kiss on her nose making her blush. Finally, he pressed his warm lips against hers. He sucked her lips slowly, evenly, as he was dining something sweet as nectar. She was his delicate flower.

His kiss was subtle and tender, however a wave of heat flushed through him causing to kiss more passionately. Erwin slid his tongue across her bottom lip luring her mouth to open for him. His tongue swirled around hers composing an intimate, sensual dance. A slight moan escaped from (Y/N) in response. She slid her hands up his back, running her fingers through his soft blonde hair. As a result, he groaned, and the urge to pull her hips against his grew. As much as he wanted to devour her, he had to resist.

The commander pulled away, only to realize that he wasn't the only one getting excited. The woman's body was filled with desire too. He watched her chest rise and fall hastily with each breath she took. He couldn't help but admire the beauty that was in front of him.

"You're gorgeous, (Y/N)." he held both of her hands and placed two gentle kisses on them "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to hold back. You're driving me crazy."

"I feel the same. I want you, Erwin."

Their lips met once again. The passion they felt had been buried in their hearts for years. The man possessed her lips claiming every centimetre of it while she held onto his strong shoulders tightly. Erwin guided her slowly to the writing table, not breaking the kiss even for a second. He lifted her up and placed her on the desk.

The commander's lips travelled down her neck and goose bumps flooded her skin tilting her head to the side. He tucked her blouse out of her skirt to slide his large hands under the fabric. When he touched her stomach, a sudden thought startled her. What if she's not good enough?

"Erwin... The candles..."

"I want to see you" he whispered in her ear.

"But..." she grasped his shoulder.

"No buts. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. No one can compete with you" the man kissed her cheek "Can I take your blouse off?"

She'd been deprived for far too long of this man who now was standing right in front of her. She nodded, and looked away in fear of what he would see might disgust him. Erwin took it off her and freed her breasts from the undergarment.

"Look at me, (Y/N)." he begged and with a bit of hesitation, she did so, finding his sparkling blue eyes, so full of love and excitement, staring down at her. Meeting his gaze, she smiled sweetly before closing her eyes as he inclined his head. He also pulled his hips tight against hers. "You did this to me, (Y/N)."

He laid her down gently on the wobbly desk and his mouth was on her breasts quicky, conquering all of it. His fiery tongue played with one of her nipples while the other was held in his hand. Next, he travelled lower and lower, down to her stomach, only to find the skirt in the way. She felt a sudden wetness between her legs.

"Can I?" he asked for permission. She nodded. She ached for it.

He removed the skirt and her shoes too. Erwin placed a kiss on her beauty through her panties before he pulled it off and trailed it down her leg. He kissed the hill again and ran two fingers down on it.

"You're soaking already, (Y/N)." then he started to explore her slit with his tongue "You're so sweet, my darling."

He sucked on the folds a little, then parted them to make his way up to her clit which he tickled wickedly. With a finger he began tracing circles around her entry. Shortly after, he slid it in. (Y/N) flinched a little, letting out a moan. After he realized she could take more, he added another one.

She enjoyed it greatly. She grabbed Erwin's head, ran her fingers through his soft hair while pulling him closer to her hips. She wanted more. Erwin was surprised by her action, and began to lick and move his fingers more passionately. Her body was burning in explicit heat. A sudden wave of extasy rushed through her and he was proud seeing his efforts paying off.

The man straightened up to hurriedly rip his shirt off and throw it on the floor. (Y/N) was mesmerized by his well- built form. She wanted to touch it, so she sat up to lean closer. She explored each muscle with her finger, even caressed his hard nipples. She travelled further down to his pants. Hearing the sharp intake of breath as her fingers lightly touched his sensitised flesh made her wanting Erwin even more.

"If you touch me like that I might..." Erwin's mouth left an excited hiss as she pulled down his trousers a little.

He stepped back to take it off along with his shoes as well. As he tugged down his underwear, his rock-hard, massive manhood revealed.

"Well..." she said in surprise "That is a titan."

He couldn't help but giggle. (Y/N) glanced up, seeing him smile at her with a sweet, sensuous smile. He stepped closer to possess her lips and lift her up from the desk just to then put her gently on the bed.

He was on top of her. The woman's breast against his chest while she wrapped her legs around his trim waist made him lose it all. He wanted to be inside her.

"(Y/N)" he sighed "Can I?"

"Yes, Erwin!"

He began to trace her entry in circular motions with his member. Softly, he placed the tip inside. She moaned in pain, feeling it tearing her walls.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked with worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay. It's okay" she caressed his clean-shaved face. "Go on, my commander."

Their lips joined again, while he grabbed her hips and plunged deep inside her. He waited a little so she could get used to his size. A couple of minutes later, he began to move gently, sliding in and out gradually going further and speeding up the rhythm. As he heard her sweet moans, felt her warmness and tightness around him, he fell into an abyss of pleasure. Erwin couldn't tame his desire anymore, finding himself thrusting into her with an enormous intensity. He couldn't get himself to stop now. He wanted her.

Erwin grunted and groaned which she found immensely sexy. The pain already faded away, endless pleasure and joy replaced it. His thick hands made their way up to her breasts, grabbing it with more and more greed.

"I love you, Erwin" she cried out.

"I love you more."

Shameful sounds filled the room and the man increased his speed to the maximum. (Y/N) latched onto his shoulders and buried her head into his chest, trembling hard against him. A wave of pleasure started to hit them both. She tightened around his manhood, and he couldn't hold on any longer as she continued to clutch. The unbearable yet wonderful torture of being lost in her made him release his seed inside of her. It was an indescribable feeling being filled up by the man of his dreams. They remained like this for a while, panting heavily.

Erwin pulled out of her but didn't let go as he wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm sorry." he said, stroking her hair.

"For what?"

"For loving you so badly, that I lost myself and couldn't hold back."

"You're so silly." she chuckled "I enjoyed every minute of it."

"Can I clean you up?" he asked placing a gentle kiss on her forehead "I've made a mess down there"

She nodded and the commander put his underwear on. He brought a wet towel and sit back on the bed. He gently spread her legs to wipe her womanhood. Then he softly stretched her entry with his finger. Erwin blushed as he saw his liquid oozing out of her.

"Erwin?" she noticed the rosiness on his cheeks.

"Nothing..." he said looking away "I apologize."

"No need to." she sat up giving him a quick little kiss on his pink cheek "I love you!"

"I love you more, (Y/N)"

...

Morning came shining its warm, golden sunbeams. All the clouds were gone and she was in his arms, all his and he would never be so foolish to let her go. She opened her eyes, only to get lost in his sky-blue iris.

"Good morning, love!" he caressed her face.

"Morning, Erwin..." she yawned and quicky realized, that she should've been up a long time ago. "My god! I should be downstairs! What time is it? Oh! And I haven't even washed your clothes!"

"Shhh..." he stopped you from jumping out of the bed by hugging you from behind "No need to hurry. It's only six thirty."

"I wake up at five!"

"You're open at seven..."

"Yes, but there's work to do. Buying things from the market, breakfast to prepare, cleaning..." she counted on her fingers.

"It can wait. Just stay with me like this for five minutes"

"Then hold me tight, Erwin."

She couldn't resist him. She was lost in his alluring presence whenever she was with him. It was pure heaven to be in his loving arms.

The end

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #attack on titan #aot #snk #aot erwin #erwin smith fanfic #erwin smith oneshot #erwin smith x you #erwinsmith #shingeki no kyojin #commander erwin

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justacomedy-archived · 3 years ago

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@krvcger: 💭+ MEMORY + birthday

— The sky mourns with him; thick droplets of rain falling from the darkened clouds, splattering against the asphalt he treads upon. Thunder rumbles across the sky and through the ground. His head tilted downwards as water dripped from the ends of soaked curls of hair and his hands are desperately seeking warmth within the jacket’s pockets. ‘Another miserable year-’ he thinks to himself; his birthday had never been any means of celebration for a man like him. It was no victory for him; most people celebrate with their friends and family. Drinks and cake shared as they celebrate a hopefully long life, but Arthur tacks it on as another miserable year added to the books and he’s left wondering when his book will finally end. Today marks thirty four years of misery. He’s still not happy and though he’s desperately trying to get help, things still feel grim. The medication hasn’t been working and though he loves his new job as a clown for hire, his aching body faces overexertion from the ungodly amount of hours his boss, Hoyt tacks onto him. He’s only recently returned to working for Ha-Ha’s after a lengthy stay at the hospital and he tries to hold onto the hopes that maybe, he’s only given the worst gigs because he’s just now getting back to the job. He requested an indoor gig for today; one where he would have ended up getting off of work at a decent time so that he could at least spend some of his birthday at home, especially after his moral dropped as not as single person at work wished him a happy birthday much like they do for each other. But his efforts in obtaining a shorter gig fell through like it always seems to do and it’s already near eight at night as he’s entering the dreary apartment complex he resides in. — The mailbox was empty per usual; no one to send him birthday cards- the only family he has is his mother and friends weren’t something he ever had. The elevator ride was one made in silence, eyes focused on the dingy floor beneath his feet as he tried to wipe away the unrealistic expectation that lingered in the back of his mind every year. That maybe, this will be the year that his mother would remember his birthday. That she would sweep him into his arms, plant a series of loving kisses along his forehead and wish him a happy birthday. Maybe he’d even get a ‘I love you.’ this year. He doesn’t expect much else; she’s too weak to leave the apartment nor could she stand at the oven to bake a cake and a gift wasn’t exactly in the budget anyways. But he always hopes that she’d shower him in motherly affection; that she’d celebrate his life in ways mothers should. Arthur’s memory is foggy, much of his childhood was forgotten but he knows that she’s never treated his birthday any different from any other day despite the way Arthur always surprises her with flowers and a card on her birthday. He’s never thought too much into it and has long since brushed it off as her fading memory. It still hurts, nonetheless. — His keys jingle as he unlocks the door before he steps through, already slipping out of the soaking wet jacket and his head swivels towards the living room as he tugged the fabric off. “Ma? I’m home-” he announced, peeking towards his mother who was settled into her usual place in her recliner. She’s watching the news again; Thomas Wayne speaking live in reference to the rat infestation and trash worker strike and with a quick motion, she lifts a hand to wave Arthur towards the television. “Look, Happy- Thomas Wayne is speaking. He looks like he’s lost some weight.” she pointed out. Arthur steals a glance towards the television, entirely uninterested in anything that Thomas Wayne has to say, but hangs his jacket on the coat hanger and trails over to take a seat on the sofa near her anyways. “Did he?” Arthur speaks feigning interest as always, eyes dropping towards the pack of cigarettes on the table as he leaned forward to reach for it. He withdrew the cigarette and lit it before he tossed the lighter and the pack back onto the table before leaning back against the sofa. “Isn’t that ironic that out of all days, he’d go live on my birthday?” He’s trying to offer a gentle reminder all while remaining on a topic he knew his mother enjoyed; Thomas Wayne. Penny waved a hand at him to shush him. “Happy, hush, I can’t hear him. You know I like to hear Thomas, he’s going to help us.” she spoke without truly acknowledging what Arthur said. — A sigh escaped his lips as he felt the familiar pang breaking through the usual numbness filling his heart. Of course; Thomas Wayne had always seemed far more important than Arthur. He sinks into the couch, sulking silently as he brings the cigarette to his mouth and sucked in a heavy drawl. His gaze focused on the smoke stained ceiling above. ‘A happy birthday would be nice. Maybe an I love you, mom. Don’t you think your son deserves at least that?’ he wants to say. But he silently festers in his feelings- he feels alone despite sharing the room with his mother who was now randomly rambling about Thomas Wayne every so often; Arthur couldn’t make out what she was saying, his thoughts much louder than her voice nor did he make the attempt to listen. “Yeah, ma.” he’d agree anyways, if anything to keep her content despite his aching soul as time passed and eventually, the room had grown quiet. The television flickered in between commercials and Penny had long since fallen asleep in her chair. Arthur was left starting at her, watching the way her chest rose and fall so peacefully as he wondered if she ever truly cared about him; if she knew how much it hurt him that she couldn’t even tell him that she loved him. His birthday meant nothing to her and his life, well, the parts of which didn’t apply to her directly, meant little to nothing to her as well. It sinks in just as it does every year, but still, Arthur raises from his seat to help her to bed before returning to the couch where he’d spend the night laying awake laughing. Crying. Mourning that he’s made it another year.

#✦✧I've just been working on my material✧✦ ➝ ( drabble )#HERE'S A SAD DRABBLE FOR U #thanks for sending this in!#im gonna go weep for Arthur now #i set this up as his birthday the year prior to the start of the movie!

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kinsey3furry300 · 3 years ago

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A very confused Star Wars Fan desperately tries to justify their belief that “Caravan of Courage” shows the way forward for the franchise. No, really.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve loved Star Wars. And I mean, all of it. The books, the games, the Lego, the spin-offs: I even enjoy the Holiday Special in a The Room so-bad-you-just-need-to-see-it sort of way. But particularly the films. But here is when we run into the big problem: I’m just the wrong age. The original trilogy launched before I was born, the prequel trilogy hit cinemas when I was already a teen and while I went and saw them and enjoyed them, I was at that age where I was self-conscious about seeing a “kids” film, and hyper-aware of how silly and cringy those films were in parts. So my indoctrination, my inoculation with the Star Wars bug didn’t happen in the cinema, and it didn’t happen with any of the main franchise works. It happened on home video, on a skiing trip in the French Alps in the early 90’s. I’d have been about 6, and this was the first time I’d ever been abroad other than to see relatives in Ireland. And I loved it: to this day I love skiing, but more than that, I have very, very fond childhood memories of this trip. This was shortly before I lost my biological mother to cancer, she’d have received her diagnosis just after we got back from the trip. This was when my younger sister stopped being an annoying screaming thing and became and became an actual person I could talk and play and share ideas with, this was before the combination my mothers long illness and my father having just launched his own IT start up meant I didn’t see him or her any more, despite the fact they were in the same house as me. This was this wonderful, nostalgic child-hood bubble when my family was intact, and nothing could ever go wrong. I skied all day with mum and dad, and would come back to the chalet in the evening. It was an English speaking chalet, I met my first real-life American there, and having grown up in the 90’s in the UK nothing was cooler than making friends with an actual American my own age. He had a hulk Hogan action figure with springs in the legs so if you put him on a hard surface and punched his head down, when you let go he’d jump really high in the air. We used to play with it together in the bath, back in that weird 90’s time-bubble when it was possible to convince two sets of parents that this kid you’d just met was you best friend in the world and of course shared bath time was, somehow, normal and appropriate. And fresh from bath time, tired from the day, the parents would give us some hot coco, dump us kids in front of the tv and grab the first shitty low-budget VHS they could find to keep us distracted while they went to the bar. In this particular time, in this particular place, that shitty low budget cartoon was the complete set of the 1985 Lucasfilm/ABC Ewoks cartoon, plus the two spin off movies, and to this day that cheap, kitschy, kind of bad series has a special warm and cosy place in my heart. I remember being enthralled by the world, in love with the characters, applied by the bad guys and the injustice they caused (to this day I’m still irate about that time Wicket lost his set of beads documenting his progress towards becoming a full warrior and the older Ewoks basically said, tough, you need to re-earn all those merit badges from scratch. This struck me as exactly the sort of bullshit an adult would pull, and pissed me off) and on tenterhooks about what would happen to the characters.

It was also, by a coincidence, the first ever Star Wars media I was exposed to, and the above combination of events probably explains a lot about me.

So I was surprised, the other day, when scrolling Disney+, to find they’d added Caravan of Courage AND Battle for Endor to the roster in my region. Surely Disney wouldn’t want their slick, cool brand associated with this old trash? Surely there could be no place for this in the post-Mandalorian Star Wars cannon? Surely this is a horrible mistake some intern made, right?

Unless…. What if I’ve miss-remembered? What if it’s not just rose-tinted nostalgia goggles, and it’s, in fact, secretly really, really good?

I rushed to my comfy chair, got a blanket, dimmed the lights, made some coco (with rum in it, because why the hell not?) and sat down to re-examine this lost gem.

And wow: it’s every bit as shit as you’d expect.

It has aged exactly as poorly as you’d expect a cheap, mid 80’s direct to video spin-off to age. Caravan of Courage? More like Caravan of Garbage, am I right?

And yet… I still enjoyed every moment.

And it was sitting there, in my pyjamas, watching a cheaply made direct to video cash-grab from just before I was born, seeing it again for the first time in nearly 30 years, and I realised something.

It doesn’t really matter if this film is bad, so long as I enjoy it. And if it doesn’t really mater if this is bad, then I, like many Star Wars fans, wasted a huge amount of time and emotional effort on being butthurt about stuff I didn’t like about the Rise of Skywalker and it’s ilk. Because somewhere, right now, a tired and frustrated parent is putting Disney+ on to keep their kids quiet for two hours. And they won’t think too hard about what they put on, so long as it keeps little Timmy busy for a bit. Somewhere, right now, a kid is watching Rise of Skywalker, and it’s the first Star Wars media they’ve ever seen.

And that’s okay. Because we don’t know what that kids home life is like. We don’t know if it’s good or bad. Maybe it’s great, maybe it’s about to take a dramatic plunge like mine did, and this moment here will be the cosy, warm memory they look back on in 30 years time, and that’s beautiful. They’re getting introduced to a fun, wonderful fantasy world that could be with them all their lives, through good times and bad, and as fans we should be happy about that.

Star Wars will never, die: it’s too darn profitable, Disney will never let it. And while I hope they learn from their mistakes and make sure every future Star Wars is a timeless gem of story-telling, statistically, if you keep making enough films, some of them will be bad. And while I’d like them all to be great, it’s still okay if they’re bad.

Because nothing can take away my memories of that week in that chalet. Nothing can take-away my memories of when they put the original trilogy on in cinemas for the special edition and I had my jaw hit the floor with how good it was on the big screen, not knowing or caring who shot first. Nothing can take away you memories of the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, or the Clone Wars. Nothing can tarnish the bits of the sequil trilogy that you like, and there are good bits in there.

But wait, what about continuity? What about the sacred, perfect written time-line that used to exist?

Well, what about it? Have you seen any other big, epic fantasy universe before? They’re all a mess. A work of fiction, particularly fantasy, can be extensive, or tightly written, but not both. Harry Potter is only seven books, and the last two feel, tonally, like they’re from an entirely different series. I love them, but the grim-dark kicked in so fast you’ll get whiplash. The Hobbit is a perfect written self-contained novel, and LOTR is *The* big boy high-fantasy trilogy: fast forward 50 years, and Christopher Tolkien is desperately squeezing every last drop of money out of his father’s corpse by finishing and publishing every unfinished note JRR ever wrote right down to his shopping lists. Even Dune goes of the rails with sequels. I can only think of four fantasy works that are both extensive and consistently tightly written, Song of Ice and Fire, Wheel of Time, Malazan: Book of the Fallen and Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere universe. And even then, the prequels and spin-offs mess with the timelines: the Dunk and Egg novella’s change some character’s canonical ages and timelines, Wheel of Time was going slowly off the rails even before the Jordan died, Forge of Darkness made what was a good metaphor for the creation of it’s world into a literal war deep in the past, and Sanderson’s first Novel Elantris got a re-write to bring it more in line with the rest of the shared universe. The MCU, oft held up as the modern example of tightly planned, well thought out ongoing storytelling, is a lie: it was never as pre-planned out as Disney wants us to think; the first Iron Man, apparently, barely had a script, with Downey ad-lib-ing most of his scenes. None of the MCU films are direct sequels to each-other other than Infinity war and Endgame. There are three Iron Man films, and Three Thor films, and none continue an ongoing story line across multiple films, and the Cap films barely continue an arc, but only where Cap’s relationship with Natasha and Bucky is involved. Much like these, Star War’s cannon is a complete, nightmarish, confusing, tangled, illogical mess. And it has been since 1984, as Caravan of Courage proves. It was never consistent and well planned.

And that’s okay.

I used to care about plot holes. I used to care about which works were cannon in Star Wars lore. I’m over that now. I’m happy to imagine the books, films and games not as a blow-by-blow historical account of a galaxy far far away, but as campfire stories from within this fun, imaginative world that we’re all invited to listen to. Stories that are in-universe myth and folklore, that we can all snuggle up and listen to while drinking highly alcoholic rum and remembering better times, knowing that wherever the future throws at us, no matter how the world goes to hell around us, we’ll still have the memories, and the ability to make our own new stories in the wonderful Star Wars world we all share.

And that’s okay. No, more than that: that’s beautiful.

Also Star Wars is completely unambiguous on the fact we’re allowed to kill fascists no matter how many times they keep coming back with a new logo, so that’s timely I guess.

So, there’s my hot take two-years after everyone else stopped caring about this stuff, as per bloody usual. Tell me why I’m wrong below, and does anyone else have any truly awful spin-off shows that they kind of have a nostalgic soft spot for?

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years ago

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The Stars Are a Part Of Us: The Brains Of This Outfit

This my “Almost Famous” inspired groupie fic, with appearances by @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands (Celestia/Alessia), @sexcoffeeandrockandroll (Absinthe/Amy) and @no-stone-no-bone (Velvet), plus yours truly as Karen. This is a pretty dark fic, with VERY mature themes and smut. Cross-posted on AO3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence. 18+ ONLY

1987

This must be her.

Izzy sat up straighter, watching as a short blonde shuffled toward the back of the bus, a huge bag on her shoulder and carrying a pillow in her arms. She didn’t notice him sitting in the next to the last seat, and she flopped down on the one behind him, setting down her pillow and leaning against it, then rifling through her purse till she found a book.

Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all. She certainly was pretty, he thought, with her long blonde waves and huge blue eyes. She dressed like Stevie Nicks’ runaway progeny too, all ruffles and lace and faded jeans, although instead of Stevie’s platforms she wore a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots.

I’ve never seen a groupie play hard to get, he chuckled to himself. She must be something else. Watching her turn a page, he noticed her full lips pursing as she read the text. He couldn’t make out what the title was, but he could see a long-haired bare-chested hunk and a bosomy babe spilling out of her bodice in a passionate clinch on the cover.

Oh, shit, she’s reading romance novels. Probably wants me to seduce her.

Izzy didn’t think he was quite up to that.

87 had been rough on him so far. Getting busted on a possessions charge (thankfully, it hadn’t included a “with an intent to sell,” although that had been exactly his intention), sentenced to rehab and now on probation, with orders he continue to be piss tested on the road.

It was a miracle he was allowed to leave the country, but his lawyer (who was far too good to be in his pay scale, Izzy noted) argued that his client’s ability to earn a living shouldn’t be hampered by his arrest. (The fact that his paying profession had led to his arrest wasn’t lost on him either.) To his amazement, the judge had agreed, and Geffen, desperate to recoup their investment and make a little scratch before the band killed themselves, sent them with The Cult on a tour of Canadian hockey rinks. Woo hoo.

Just before the tour started, he and Niv were approached in a shitty dive by a curvy brunette introducing herself as Absinthe and claiming she was one of the Road Wives.

“Heard of us?” she asked, coyly batting her eyelashes.

Izzy took a sip from his Coke and nodded. Yes, he’d heard of all of them. The Flying Garter Girls, the GTO’s, the Road Wives. All conglomerates of groupies who traveled with bands and made life on the road even more colorful and chaotic.

“Of course you have. It’s an honor to travel with the Wives.”

Izzy rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke from his nose. “And you’ve selected us, I suppose.”

Absinthe smiled, the contrast of her crimson pout with her white teeth and skin visible even in the dim light. “We have. Our leader Velvet has chosen Axl as her traveling companion.”

Niven smirked, and Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Has this already been decided?” he said quietly.

Those red lips formed a tight line. “No. Axl said to take this up with you. ‘Izzy has the final word,’ he said.”

He took another drag, and she leaped at the opportunity to speak. “There’s uhh, four of us, and Celestia has picked Slash, and I,” she smiled, and Izzy swore he saw devil horns poke out of her dark hair, “I settle down with no man, but I’ve spent time with your drummer and won’t mind repeating that experience.”

He flicked his ash from his cigarette, bored disinterest on his unsmiling face. “And Duff is married.”

She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, Duff is engaged, and has cordially informed us he will not require our services. Shame, there’s a tree I’d like to climb again and again.”

Izzy lit a new cigarette with the end of the first one and ground the butt out, then leaned forward on the table and said, “Shame, because I say no to the whole shooting match.”

The whites of her black-lined eyes became enormous. “Wait, you haven’t heard who’s with you.”

“I don’t care who’s with me,” he said, in a quiet but firm voice. “I’m on fucking probation and I don’t need any more headaches. And I damn sure don’t need four chicks we have to babysit.”

“Hear her out,” Niven snickered. “I gotta hear about the whore that wants you.”

Absinthe licked the front of her teeth. “Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all,” she said softly.

Izzy shook his head. “Nope. I’m not traveling with anyone fucked up or underage.”

“She’s 21. And she blows a gasket over drugs.”

Niven elbowed Izzy. “She sounds right up your alley, mate.”

Izzy shifted in his seat, rolling the end of his cigarette in the ashtray as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“She and I went to school together, and we’re older than the other girls. We keep them in line. They will not cause you any problems on the road. You have my word.”

Izzy slid his eyes to Alan, who shrugged. “Canada’s cold, Izz.”

Absinthe smiled.

He still wasn’t convinced. “She doesn’t use? Cause I’ve never heard of a groupie who didn’t.”

She shook her head. “Reads us the riot act if we do. She smokes weed every now and then, but I don’t even think she’s done that in the last six months.” She batted her eyes, sensing his interest. “Drinks the occasional beer, but she’s normally our DD.”

Izzy sighed, then downed the last of his Coke. “All right. One fuckup, and I don’t care what it is, if one of you broads even breaks a nail, your asses are heading home. Put that in the tour budget Niv, four bus tickets back to LA if any of them get the hiccups.” He stood up. “I’m not joking.”

No, a seduction was not something he was up to. Maybe a quick fuck when the bus got dark, if she loosened up a little. Normally, groupies sucked you off as a way of saying hello, but this one had tromped on past him and buried her nose in a book.

Honey, is that any way to welcome your man?

He leaned over the bus seat, carefully studying her. She wore a moonstone ring on one hand, a crystal ball set in a pair of hands ring on the other one, and gigantic sparkly hoop earrings. He didn’t especially understand this Stevie Nicks fixation, but if memory served, she’d fucked her way through Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles, so as long as Rhiannon here didn’t wear a chastity belt, it was fine by him.

He tilted his head and asked, “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

Her eyes darted up from her page, then back down. “Hi.”

He had another great view of the top of her head. “Is this any way to act?”

She turned a page, her eyes not leaving her book. “I wasn’t aware I was a bother.”

Since Izzy’s arrest, patience was not something he had large reserves of. “Are you really going to do this?” he snapped.

Her eyes met his then, and he had a second to register how long her eyelashes were before he realized how irritated she was. “Do WHAT, may I ask?” she growled, her voice hard.

Izzy was thrown, but he shrugged it off. Maybe this is foreplay to her. “Why aren’t you in my lap right now? Daddy’s had a rough day.”

She went completely, utterly still, then asked, “What?”

A little voice in his head (something he heard much more frequently now that he was sober) told him something was off, but he blurted, “You’re my whore and I shouldn’t have to beg you to blow me.”

He watched her cheeks flush, then the sides of her neck, and he belatedly realized that this was someone you didn’t piss off. To his relief, she didn’t reach into her purse, but instead slammed her book shut and gritted, “Who told you I was your whore?”

“Well, I see you two have met,” Absinthe said, smiling as she sat down next to her.

“She did,” Izzy said, tipping his chin up, not taking his eyes off the blonde.

“Amy Louise, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” She glanced up at Izzy. “Are you telling people I’m ‘Bella Donna the wonder groupie’ again?” Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Because you know how much I hate that.”

“Ahh,” Absinthe answered, “well, possibly. But you really should get to know Izzy.”

Her eyes darted back to him. “I’m good,” she snapped. “I think I know all I need to know.”

“What’s the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

“It means what you think it means.” She turned to Absinthe. “You are going to stop calling me ‘Bella Donna’ or I am going to make you stop. You got that?”

“Yes.” Shoulders slumping, Absinthe stood up and walked back to the front of the bus.

Izzy watched as the blonde laid her forehead on her palm, then reached into her bag and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. She looked up at him. “Did you get that, Hoss?” she said in a tired voice. “I’m not ‘Bella Donna,’ and I’m definitely not your whore.”

He nodded, then a small voice said, “Sissy? Is that my Sissy?” A younger girl with brown hair sat down next to her, and she immediately hugged her, then laid her head on her shoulder.

“I love you, Sis,” the younger girl said.

“I love you, too, Celly Belly.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Izzy.”

“Hi, Izzy, I’m Celestia.”

“Hi.”

“Izzy, this is my sister, Karen.”

“We’ve met,” Karen said icily.

“Why don’t you like him? He’s cute.”

Karen looked at her sister in horror. “He’s a drug dealer.”

“Former,” Izzy said.

“And a junkie.”

“Also former.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Nope, she left me when I went to rehab. For another guitarist with better drugs.”

“He’s cute. You should bang him.”

“Celestia. That’s not why you sleep with people.”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia and Izzy said in unison.

Karen rolled her eyes. “That’s not why I sleep with people.”

“Have you talked to Steve?” Celestia asked.

Karen breathed out a sigh. “No, not since he took up with that model. Catriona.”

“Steve is an idiot,” Celestia said, lighting up a cigarette. “I heard their record is multi platinum.”

“Yeah, they brought Mutt back.” Karen said. “When you sell that many records, that’s when the models show up.”

“Yeah.” Celestia blew out a plume of smoke. “Did you bring your hat?”

Karen crossed her arms and slumped in her seat. “Yeah.”

“Yay!” Celestia squeezed her. “ I know you don’t want to be ‘Bella Donna’ anymore, but I love it when you are.” She looked up at Izzy, who was still watching them. “I bet he could make you forget Steve.”

“I’m good.” Karen tightened her arms and scowled.

“Sissy, please be nice to Izzy.”

“Why?”

“Because I really like Slash. And Izzy will make us go home if we don’t behave.”

Karen looked at Izzy, then Celestia. “You really want to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Celestia?” a voice called. “Baby, where are you?”

Celestia said, “I gotta go. I love you, Sis.”

“Here,” Karen said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of condoms. “Don’t fuck him without one. I don’t want any more doctor’s visits.”

Celestia tucked them inside her waistband of her microshorts, then kissed Karen’s cheek. “I’m not going to get in trouble again, I promise.” As she stood up, she smiled at Izzy, then squealed, “Slashy!”

Izzy lit a cigarette and smirked at Karen. “Well, that was just absolutely fucking touching, but you twats are hitting the pavement the first stop we make.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “That girl is 16. Velvet is 17. And you’re planning to take them into another country to have sex with them, which the last time I looked was a criminal act.”

“Not if we dump your asses out before we hit the border.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not. I’m on probation and I don’t need this bullshit.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that. You do realize any of these girls, myself included, though I wouldn’t, can at any time say, ‘He raped me?’ ‘He hit me?’ Now for anyone else in this band, that would be any given Tuesday, but for you? You have a lot more to lose.”

Izzy’s eyes widened.

“I mean, Absinthe told you I was your whore, and obviously that’s not true. We’re liable to say just anything.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling a chill run down his back.

“Where are we stopping anyway? McDonald’s? There’s always a cop there with nothing to do. Maybe he’ll have time for a damsel in distress.”

Izzy swallowed. “What do you want?” he gritted, knowing she had the upper hand.

“You can show us ‘twats’ a little respect, for starters.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he spat. “Your ass is chapped because I was a dealer.”

“Hoss, don’t make me play my ace. Cause I have four of them, and I ain’t on probation.”

He ground his molars together. “What else?”

“We stay, and you provide us with basic human necessities. A place to sleep, food, and shelter.”

“And?”

“Take us backstage.”

“That’s a given.”

She shrugged.

“Then what?”

“Then your band runs around with empty balls and everyone is happy happy happy. ‘Cept you, you’re on your own with that.” She crossed her arms. “And I make sure no one is a headache. You’ll never know we’re here.”

“Can I believe you?”

She directly met his gaze. “Yes.”

“How do I know that?”

“I’m not a liar. I’ve been honest about everything so far.”

Why didn’t I meet you first? It would’ve saved a shitload of time. “Why are you here?” he snapped.

“Because your band has a body count, Stradlin.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Todd Crew. Slash shot him up, did he not?”

Izzy took a deep breath. “He says he didn’t.”

“Do you believe that?”

“What I believe is none of your fucking business.”

“I heard he did, and Todd died in his arms.”

Izzy lit a cigarette and looked away. “We, ah, we were all gutted when he died.”

“Well, my baby sister is sleeping with Slash, and I want to make sure that is an isolated incident.”

Izzy took a drag. “It is. None of us are on smack anymore. Slash just drinks now, and I can’t do fucking anything.”

Karen met his eyes. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely swayed by your testimony.”

He shrugged. Even though she was judgmental and unforgiving, he could see where she was coming from. If he had a sister, he’d shit himself if she took up with Slash. Or any of them.

She must be the brains of this outfit. She hates us all.

Karen shot him one final filthy look, then dug a Walkman out of her purse and closed her eyes, resolutely shutting him out.

Izzy sighed, then his eyes landed a few seats ahead of him. Duff had pledged undying fidelity to his fiancee and planned on recreationally drinking instead of fucking, and had already passed out cold, snoring loudly against the window.

I don’t have that option, Izzy bitterly thought. It wasn’t even that he wanted to drink or raise hell anymore. His rehab stint had opened his eyes to how close he’d skated to the edge, and just when he felt like he’d finally made it back to the land of the living, Todd had fallen into the abyss.

There’d also been the unspoken question, Is Slash going to be charged with murder? The band had closed ranks and called all the lawyers, and in the end, no one was indicted. Guns was already on thin ice for Axl and Slash’s separate arrests for statutory rape, and Izzy’s incarceration was the final straw. The brass at Geffen was adamant: One more strike, boys, and your asses are done.

He titled his chin up and blew out a plume of smoke. He hadn’t had many plans for this tour, but he had expected to spend it in the arms of a submissive woman. Sex hadn’t been forbidden by the terms of his probation, not yet anyway, and he’d been, well, enchanted by the idea of a babe who didn’t get fucked up and yet was enthusiastic to do his bidding in the sack. He could slap himself now for believing such a creature even existed.

He stole a glance at Karen, whose head had slumped forward. Even in her sleep, she looked weary, beautiful but worn out. He realized now, if Absinthe’s description was right, she was just a nice girl looking after her sister, and Celestia’s taste in men must be exhausting if Slash was any indication. Izzy felt his ears growing hot as he thought about how aggressively he’d approached her, even though he’d been promised she was a sure thing. Demanding she immediately hop on his dick wasn’t what he considered finesse.

Fuck, how am I going to get laid now? That thought was punctuated by a hushed moan from Slash, and Izzy wanted to pound his head against the seat in front of him. He’d just have to hope that somehow Canadian groupies were very willing yet went to church frequently.

Damn, woman, you’re sure you won’t change your mind about me? I can be romantic if you want me to.

Can’t do much about me being a dealer though. That ship already sailed.

He heard Karen stirring behind him, and turned to watch her stretch out and cover herself with a blanket. Since he expected to be wrapped in her arms, Izzy had packed away his own covers, so he buttoned his denim jacket and crossed his arms, sleep mercifully arriving quickly.

#izzy stradlin x oc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x oc #guns n roses fanfic

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love-fireflysong · 3 years ago

Text

yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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baggebythesea · 3 years ago

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Behind-the-scenes interview with the cast of “Queens of the Horde”

Everyone is milling around the backstage area being busy or trying to look busy. Double Trouble steps up to the camera.

"Greetings, dear audience. This is Double Trouble speaking to you for the Tumblr exclusive backstage documentary of the She-Ra fanfic 'Catra and Glimmer - Queens of the Horde.'. which you can read at Bagge's page of archive of our own."

They eye the camera with a serious expression.

"Be warned - this documentary will contain mild spoilers."

They relax their demeanor and take a step back, indicating the set around them.

"We have just wrapped up the first act - 'Queens of the Broken Thrones' - and everyone here is preparing for some well deserved rest as we go into production of the second part - 'Queens of No Land' - which should start updating in about a month or so."

"Probably more if the author keeps getting distracting by kissy oneshots instead of working on this fic," Mermista says with an eye-roll as she walks by the camera, slurping on a soda.

Double Trouble waves at the camera to follow and jogs after her.

"ah, Mermista. You're fresh out from the 'princess council' scene. Could you tell as a bit of your character motivation?"

Mermista stops and slurps thoughtfully on her drink. She looks between Double Trouble and the camera.

"No," she concludes eventually and strolls on.

"I could tell you about my..." Perfuma begin from behind the camera, but Double Trouble has already caught sight of someone else and hurries on.

"Bow, my boy!" they cries. "How is the production going so far in your opinion?"

Bow puts down a box of castle furniture props he has been carrying. He gives the camera a warm smile.

"Everything's going really well. The entire cast is doing their best and we are all excited for the response we got."

"Can you tell us a bit more about your part of the story?" Double Trouble asks.

Bow chuckles a bit nervously.

"I, of course only has a small role, which is partly referencing the canon scene from the episode 'Fractures', because..."

"Because the author is a hack?" Double Trouble asks helpfully.

"Because the author wants to roots the narrative firmly in canon," Bow diplomatically corrects. "Sadly, that means me and adora have to leave Glimmer behind at her lowest point, which in this story has even more disastrous consequences for her than in the show proper." He looks dejected for a moment, but then he brightens up.

"But I'm sure love will win out and everyone will have a happy ending."

"The author has in fact only promised a happy ending for Glimmer and Catra," Double Trouble leers. "Does that worry you?"

"Of course not," Bow says, perhaps a fraction of a second to fast. "I trust Glimmer fully to do the right thing."

"I for one don't like my part of the story," adora mutters and enters the view. "Glimmer deserves better than being left alone after I yell at her."

"adora..." Glimmer says with placating voice as she trails after the blonde woman. "You know those hurtful things we say to each other is just acting."

"and how about the flirty things you say to Catra?" Double Trouble quickly asks. "are those 'just acting' too?"

Glimmer turns a shade more pink and fumbles for answers.

"Sparkles totally has the hots for me," Catra smirks.

"Shut up..." Glimmer mutters as her blushing intensifies.

"ah, Catra!" Double Trouble says. "How did you like your first part of the story?"

"Too mopey," Catra says without hesitation. "and I wanted more scenes being badass. I could totally have kicked Sparkles butt in our fight."

"I should have kicked your furry butt," Glimmer protests. "I had the Moonstone upgrade and everything."

"Only thing that stopped me from crushing you outright," Catra brags.

"Nuhuh," Glimmer disagrees with a smug smile. "You totally love me and wouldn't want to hurt me."

"D'awwwwwww!" Bow says with hearts in his eyes. Catra gives him an annoyed look.

"What about you, Glimmer?" Double Trouble asks. "The author has made no secret of your emotional and psychological development being a big driving force of the story. How do you feel that was captured in this first part?"

"Well," Glimmer says, clearly happy for the question. "The complexity of my character requires quite a bit of nuanced reflection of the many-faceted, um, facets of my personality. In this first part both my desperation and ambition is on full display, as well as a dark undercurrent perhaps surprising from such a sweet girl as myself."

She smiles, just a tad smugly.

"Please, Sparkles," Catra laughs. "You're as threatening as a cupcake."

"Dare to repeat that, Furball?" Glimmer hisses and summons a ball of lighting. Catra stick out her tongue and ducks away.

"How about your emotional journey?" Double Trouble prompts.

Glimmer shoots Catra one last, angry look, but closes her hand so the ball of lighting disappear.

"Well, as you know, this is the point in canon when I - as the author likes to point out - get all the powers I thought I wanted, which leads to me taking down the Horde only to be abducted together with Catra by Horde Prime. In this fic, thanks to Shadow Weavers plotting, that doesn't happen. Thus, me and Catra are stuck together and forced to figure out a way forward on our own."

"and just what way will that be?" Double Trouble leers. "any hints you can give us about the upcoming part?"

Glimmer and Catra looks at each other.

"The kitty is totally going soft for me," Glimmer smirks.

"Sparklebutts is scared of bugs," Catra leers.

They glare at each other.

"according to the budget, this next part is very light on actors," Double Trouble interjects. "Which means that the two of you will have to carry most of the drama yourself. any thoughts on that."

"It helps that I'm such a talented character actor," Glimmer says with false modesty.

"Eh, we mostly bounce lines off each other," Catra shrugs. "Not much action but it's cheap."

"and any word on your - ah - relationship development?" Double Trouble asks.

Catra and Glimmer looks at each other. They wink.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Glimmer smirks.

"Bah, you're no fun," Double Trouble pouts and strolls on. They come to a black set chair sitting by itself. In it, Shadow Weaver reads a book while sipping a mug of tea.

"Shadow Weaver!" Double Trouble proclaims. "Our big bad. Care to tell us a bit of your character."

She gives them a cold look.

"My role is a badly written cliché, as is customary for this sort of cheap melodrama. although my mentorship of Micah's daughter is handled in a passably competent fashion, the nuances of my character and my motivation is clearly beyond the feebleminded grasp of the author, and ultimately the young queen's journey for power - which could have made for a somewhat interesting narrative - is traded for some sort of soppy paperback romance. Even as such, Catra is horribly miscast and clearly a more worthy romantic partner should have been considered for the role."

"I didn't take you for shipping war participant!" Double Trouble leers. Shadow Weaver simply rolls her eyes and returns to the book. Double Trouble turns to the camera again.

"and there you have it folks. We are all happy with how the first part turned out, and we look forward to the second installment in October. Bagge is happy to take any questions you might have - just send an ask or direct message."

They smile, a wide smile.

"and scene."

#spop #She-Ra #Glimmer #Catra #Glitra #fanfic #Writer's Corner #Just for fun #Queens of the Horde #Catra and Glimmer - Queens of the Horde

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Hand-Me-Down Words

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1639

Summary: A publisher wants to print the Beth Harmon story, but Beth doesn't know how to go about writing a book. Luckily, she knows someone who does.

They want her to write a book. With triumph over Borgov behind her, Beth requires a new challenge, and with the payout from Moscow, she doesn’t need to enter any American tournaments for the time being. Tedious car journeys and rough hotel sheets combined in trips that end in prizes of piddly amounts aren’t in her future unless she wants them to be. Victory means control. Writing, writing should mean control too.

Except that Beth’s never done anything like this before.

Numbers are the Harmon language—hers and her mother’s. Expressions, equations, calculations, and chess. Even Alma made sense of life through budgeting. Beth’s first thought after meeting with the agent she selected to represent her and the acquisitions editor at the publishing house is, Thank god I’m already in New York, because she needs help here. She needs somebody who’s done this before.

Unsure how quickly or if they’ll fall into their old pattern of sharing the bed, Beth informs Benny that she’s buying him a couch. A couch which will really be for her. She rejects even the remotest possibility that she’ll ever again sleep on that stupid inflatable mattress, pretending not to get a cramp in either her calf or the arch of her foot (or both) when she had to work the damn pump every night to avoid his gloating smile, to perpetuate his mistaken understanding of it being a situation of him providing her with something instead of the opposite. She maintains that he did promise a couch and is therefore a boldfaced liar. Which she should have seen because, liar? Yes, of course. The man plays chess for a living. A face that can alternately frighten and reassure an onlooker is a necessity. Come stay with me at my apartment in New York while we’re both aware of your attraction to me. Frightening. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep on the couch and this arrangement will keep things platonic and focused on your chess training. Reassuring.

“I’m buying a couch for your living room.”

“No.”

Well, fuck him. Beth leapfrogs her original scheme and buys an entire apartment. Not a nice one—she still has the Lexington house to caretake and eventually reinhabit—but it is above ground. She insists it’s hers, a good investment, a base in New York for all of her future meetings with her agent and editor, until Benny gives her a look that has her raising her palms and halting her excuses. She never asks him to give up his place. When he walks into hers one day with the key she had made for him dangling from his finger and a box of possesses under his arm, she just scrapes her chair back from the table and shows him the space she left for him in the closet.

She thinks they might have sex the day she comes back from a publicity event (they’re drumming it up before she’s written a single coherent page) to find Benny napping on the couch with his hat over his face like a cowboy, instinctively pulling her close when she knocks it away and startles him awake. Or when he suggests that she begin carrying a knife too and jokingly taps her thigh when she asks where she’s supposed to conceal it. Or when he stumbles blearily into her room in the early morning because she’s crying tears of frustration over her typewriter and he wordlessly gathers her into a sleep-warmed embrace. Or when they quit acting like he’s a guest and he calls it “our apartment” for the first time.

Beth wants to charge through the book. She’ll write for hours at a time, answering questions only as they occur to her, the way she’s danced back and forth with her true competitors on the chessboard. But Benny has the wisdom of a published author here and ruthlessly edits these pages—verbally, never picking up a pencil. He pushes her to compose the questions ahead of time, allowing her to address them with equal weight. Also, to come up with certain themes or trains of thought that are vital to the forward energy of the book and capture the spirit of her play, which is really what she’s made this deal in order to describe. People are hungry to see chess through her eyes. They’ll pay good money for it.

Whenever they’re on the brink of an argument because Beth is hammering away at the typewriter while Benny’s trying to get to sleep, or Benny is being as pushy and transactional as her editor while Beth’s desperate for a little encouragement, one of them inevitably suggests a match.

Playing at home is helping to break his habit of wagering on games. She never says anything directly; progress seems to come more easily for him when he doesn’t feel watched, which she gets, from having people voice their concern over the tranquilizers. It’s been… well, since the night she decimated him and his friends at speed chess, that he thought he had a failproof method for beating her. He can’t afford to lose every game—he has to contribute to the household finances.

They play three games at once, on three separate boards. They play without a board, swapping moves as they eat lunch and people-watch on a park bench. They play blindfolded until they get into a fight because Beth isn’t familiar with the shape of one of his sets and thinks she’s been moving a bishop when her fingers really stuttered over the pieces to land on a pawn. (They remove the blindfolds after checkmate to see that pawn ‘checking’ the king from a diagonal across the board and Benny discounts the entire match as illegal.)

They play games that last a day or more, leaving notepads beside the board like they do at tournaments and checking each other’s over the hours for new moves before responding with slides and taps and exchanges of their own. During one of these, when Benny’s been taking forever to take his turn (because Beth has him pinned and he’s being stubborn about conceding), she comes into the kitchen to start dinner and sees him sitting at the table, staring at the board, still not making a move.

“You can get out of it,” she comments, standing next to his chair with her arms folded. She doesn’t really believe that and he knows it; she watches him shift irritably in his seat.

“I think I would’ve done it by now.”

His refusal to even try while she’s standing there watching (yes, she still loves to watch him play) makes her just as determined to beat her own white pieces back as she was formerly determined to beat him. She studies the board harder and it does take several minutes. Finally, she spots the move.

Without thinking, Beth drops down onto his lap and says, “Here,” as she reaches out and drags the king onto a new square. “It looks like an exposed placement, but it’s really the perfect bait to get white to rearrange its offensive, opening things up for a comeback by black. See?”

She turns her head and her heart swoops as Benny’s gaze strokes unhurriedly up her neck to her face. He blinks twice, quickly, like seeing her here is a surprise and a dream. Gently, he shifts her hips back a little, until she can feel the firmness at his groin. He stops sleeping on the couch.

With trimming and factchecking and too much coffee, her book is suddenly in its final draft, pressed back into her hands by the editor who’s probably really, really tired of reading about chess. Regardless, the woman still loves the book. Vibrantly, aggressively. The house’s whole staff does, the way they can only love something they’re publishing in a frenzy, before interest in the young female champion wanes. Beth is amazed to find that she loves it too. It has a lot of heart, she feels, between the numbers that have defined her career; though it isn’t one of the sections she’s been requested to rejig for this last edit, she finds herself flipping back to a page near the beginning, where she writes about going to her first tournament unrated. Though journalists have always been curious about the morbidity of the car crash and her orphanage upbringing, she doesn’t give up too much of that. The highs and lows of Methuen—Jolene’s resilience and the green pills’ quicksand—will go unprinted. Readers will have to search for the personal. It’s in the brimming praise of Mr. Shaibel that Beth fought to include, and the passages of effusive respect for Alma, who learned to both manage and mother her.

It’s in the dedication.

Beth carries a copy home from the first box of the first printing. For the moment, it’s precious, but soon those boxes will be shipped out to bookstores, where employees will stack and shelve and shoppers will recognize her name on the spine and go, “Oh, isn’t she the one who…?” She smiles to imagine it.

“Benny?” she calls into their apartment. “You home?”

She curls around him from behind when he raises a hand from the couch. He’s reading but he puts the book down to transfer his complete attention to her and she kisses him with her mouth so full of the delight of her accomplishment that they almost get carried away. Breathless, she draws back, then hands her work over. She watches eagerly as Benny turns the pages, stopping him before the introduction.

His name isn’t the only one on the list—compiling people worth dedicating her book to was an exercise in recognizing the luck of her life—but it is the last. The endgame.

…and to Benny, it reads. Let’s set it up. Let’s think it out.

#I love writing dialogue; you'd never know it #my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Kids Have Terrible Timing (Biadore) - Sarcastacnt

Summary; One of Roy and Danny’s two daughters has a tendency to get over excited at the smallest things and at the worst possible time for her fathers.

“We can always return her right?”

“See, this is what happens when we trust your genes. Let’s take a second to notice how the spawn with my genes is basically a Saint compared to her sister.”

Danny pulled a face and whacked Roy with a pillow. “Not what you said when she ruin, how many of your gowns was it again? 9?”

“It was 15 and you know it.” Roy grumbled still puzzled at how the then five year old Sabrina had gotten a hold of the gowns, let alone figured out how to work his sewing machine. Something that still eluded Danny.

“Let’s just agree that they’re both evil in their own special ways.” Danny offered, trying desperately not to laugh at the pained expression on Roy’s face.

Roy snorted, “Not much longer until they go through puberty. That’s when we cash in all those offers to babysit from Shane.”

Danny groaned and flopped down dramatically against the bed. “Two teenage girls in one house. What the fuck were we thinking?”

Roy shrugged, “Probably that at least one of them would be a boy.”

Danny laughed, “At least then they wouldn’t bug to borrow our drag. Well, your drag.”

Roy laughed at the memory of the two dark haired girls gasping in disbelief at the room full of princess gowns and lumberjack clothing. “Still can’t believe how good that read was, fucking lumberjack.” He was still snickering when Danny decided he was no longer comfortable laying on the bed.

With a surge of power from his left leg he moved to straddle Roy’s hips. “You’re the one who married a lumberjack Haylock.”

Roy automatically dropped his hands to rest on Danny’s thighs. “You married a princess, least I’m still gay in this version of reality.”

Danny snorted, “Whatever, that makes you a princess, least I’m still a man.” He leaned forward and licked Roy’s neck before whispering in his ear. “Although every single time I’ve fucked you while you were dressed as a princess was hot as hell. You really should let me fuck you in drag more often.”

Roy let out a groan as Danny squirmed on his lap. “Why would I put a bunch of clothes on for sex? Doesn’t being naked make everyone’s lives easier?”

Danny began kissing Roy’s jaw, taking a familiar path down to the collar of Roy’s shirt. “I meant when we preform asshole.” He said as he started to work the buttons of Roy’s shirt open.

Roy rolled his eyes, “Because normally after we preform you’re so fucking horny that you beg to get fucked.” Roy brought both hands crashing down on Danny’s ass, “Remember?”

Danny started to kiss his way down Roy’s chest now that the button down was pushed open. “Fuck yeah I do.” He looked up at Roy, eyes gone a little glassy with arousal. “Speaking of which, it’s been quiet for almost an hour. We should probably take advantage while we can.”

Roy chuckled and began to tug at Danny’s shirt. “You’re absolutely right.” When Danny didn’t move to remove his shirt quick enough, Roy rolled them so he was on top. He quickly pulled off the light sleep pants Danny wore and began stroking the already half hard cock. “Doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?” he teased before taking Danny’s erection into his mouth.

“Never has.” Danny admitted before groaning at the very talented tongue that was quickly turning his brain to mush.

Roy held out his hand, without stopping the blow job and Danny reached blindly for the small bottle of lube on the nightstand. He pushed it into Roy’s hand before letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Wasting no time, Roy lubed up two fingers and pressed them into Danny. It only took a few thrusts before Danny was demanding that Roy ‘stop fucking around and put your dick in me!’. With such a sweet request, how could Roy refuse? He pushed his own sleep pants down and lubed up his erection before taking a second to tease Danny’s entrance.

“Fuck me Roy!” Danny demanded, his hips lifting off the bed in frustration.

“Fine, but next time we have time I’m gonna make you pay for being an Impatient bitch.” Roy said as he grabbed Danny’s hips and started to push himself inside-

“DADDY!!!”

*CRASH, SLAM, BANG*

Roy didn’t know how he did it but somehow he got both of them covered up under the blanket before 6 year old Stevie managed to scramble up on the bed.

“Stevie remember how we talked about knocking? And you’re not listening to me at all, are you?” Roy sighed as he swung his legs over the far side of the bed and pulled his pants up. Danny had no chance to pull anything on, Stevie was not only on the bed but sitting happily on Danny’s stomach.

“Daddy! I found something cool! You gotta come see this!” the little girl had a big grin on her face as she waved her hands in the air. Stevie’s grin was an exact match for Danny’s (pre lip injections, of course). In fact Stevie was the spitting image of Adore, especially on the odd occasion her fathers put her in make up. Not only was the physical resemblance strong but both Stevie and Danny were two of the loudest people Roy had ever met.

A quiet knock at the open door caught Roy’s attention. He looked up to see blue eyed eight year old Sabrina shaking her head in exasperation. “Sorry dad, I tried to remind her to knock but…” she trailed off with a shrug, gesturing to the excited noises coming from the bed as Stevie and Danny talked about something Roy couldn’t quite catch.

Roy chuckled, “It’s okay, I understand my love. What were you two doing anyways? I thought we said goodnight an hour ago.”

Sabrina walked around the bed, giving it a wide berth. She had walked too close to the bed once during a similar situation just in time for Stevie to launch herself off the bed (much to her fathers horror) and land on not only her feet but her sister’s as well. “I showed her a book.”

Roy ached an eyebrow, “Why is she so excited about a book.”

Sabrina made a huffing noise as she crawled up on the bed to sit next to Roy. “There were no pictures in it.”

“You’re telling me your sister is losing her mind over a book, without pictures?” Roy could feel his eye start twitching.

Sabrina nodded, “Are you sure she’s really my sister?” she eyed Roy suspiciously.

Roy sighed, they had this conversation every few weeks. “Yes Rini, you both have the same mother, remember?” Roy remembered the initial thrill when they discovered that the surrogate they had used for Sabrina was more then happy to take on another pregnancy for the pair when they decided to expand their family a year and a half later.

“Are you really sure? Did you check?” Sabrina grilled her father as she watched Stevie and Danny (who had managed to pull pants on while he was distracted with Sabrina) rush out of the room to get a look at this ‘amazing book’ that Stevie had discovered.

“Yes Rini I’m a hundred percent sure she’s your sister. Besides she acts just like Dad, doesn’t she? I promise she’s part of this family.”

Sabrina frowned, “Whatever. I’m gonna go make sure they don’t break my stuff.” She hopped off the bed, her long twin braids floating behind her as she stormed off after them.

Roy fell back into bed and began laughing uncontrollably. He had no idea which part of the last five minutes he found so funny. The interrupted sex, Stevie’s excitement over a book without pictures or Sabrina’s continued irritation that her sister was insane.

Tears were streaming down his face, high pitched giggles still escaping him and abdominal muscles cramping when Danny returned.

“She’s nuts.” Danny proclaimed as he flopped down next to Roy.

A minute later, Roy managed to get his laughter under control. “Was she really that excited over a book with no pictures?”

Danny nodded, eyes wide in disbelief. “War and Peace! I didn’t know books could get that big! That shit’s more complicated then anything I ever read!”

Roy nodded, “Katya was reading it last time her and Trixie were over with their hellspawns. She probably forgot it here.” They almost always used drag names when referring to Brian and Brian just to save themselves the confusion.

Danny snorted, “Least we had time to breathe between kids. I don’t know how they managed 3 at once! Like who even has triplets?”

“Trixie and Katya do, poor bastards. If two teenage girls seems like a nightmare waiting to happen, imagine three hormonal teenage boys. The structural damage alone may just bankrupt them! If those two weren’t bald already that’s what would finally do it. Trying to figure out how much to add to the budget for household repairs every week.” Roy mused, choosing to ignore the fact that while he and Danny did in fact have one less kid, one of said kids shared genetic material with Danny. Roy hoped, not for the first time that Stevie calmed down as she got older. Last thing he needed was one of his daughters proudly proclaiming to be a ‘messy slut’. The thought of the generally sweet (if loud) Stevie strutting around in a mini skirt and low cut shirt made Roy shiver in fear.

“We’re never gonna have sex again, are we?” Danny half heartedly complained, lacing his fingers with Roy’s as they looked at each other with tired smiles on their faces.

Roy released Danny’s hand and rolled so he was on top of his husband. “So dramatic.” Roy teased as he captured Danny’s lips in a breath taking kiss.

It wasn’t long before Danny was a moaning, begging mess under him. Roy sighed in relief as he entered Danny roughly, rather pleased with himself for the broken sound that tore itself from Danny’s lips.

“DADDY!!!!”

“I’m taking her back!” Danny proclaimed loudly as Roy pulled away from him and managed to get their pants back on before Stevie came flying into their room again. This time she was screaming something about the ‘coolest bug ever!

Wasn’t parenting fun?

A/N Thank you to the annon who requested a kid fic where Roy and Danny keep getting interrupted. Swore I’d never write one of these but hey, here we are! I’m also tempted to continue this but for the moment it stands alone.

The girls names; Stevie is named for Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac fame and Sabrina is name for an alternative name for a boat neck collar. I know nothing about fashion so that’s what a quick Google search pulled up.

As for the teasing each other about which kid has which genes, it doesn’t mean they love either kid less then the other. I think most parents like to harass their partner about who is responsible for which less desirable trait their off spring demonstrates. Like when Sarabi says to Mufasa in The Lion King “Before sunrise, he’s your son.”

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #canon compliant #parenting au #kid fic #married #fluff #almost smut #request fic #sarcastacnt

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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 8

Title: “I may just take your breath away” / Sweater Weather AU

Relationship: Jemily

Word count: 35,604

Summary:

Penelope hacks the college. JJ pets a cat. There are three blowjobs. Need I say more?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

JJ adjusted the textbook in her hands, rolling onto her side to get comfortable with it. Behind her, was the calming sounds of Penelope’s pop music and her dancing fingertips as she typed code into her computer.

She had only a few pages left to read, but she was having a hard time focusing. JJ’s brain kept drifting to the events of that weekend. On Halloween, they played spin the bottle. JJ’s spin landed right on Emily, meaning that they had to kiss.

But it was not chaste. As Penelope most eloquently put it: “you two were seconds from ripping each other’s clothes off in front of us.”

JJ couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Emily had really kissed her. There was tongue. It was not a peck to play the game; they had gone at it like teenagers in the backseat of a car at a lovers’ lane.

It made reading her textbook difficult when she knew what Emily’s tongue felt like against hers. It made doing her essay challenging when she could remember the taste of her lips. It made doing just about anything next to impossible when JJ was desperate to kiss Emily again.

“Did you know that it’s Hotch’s birthday tomorrow?” Penelope asked, spinning in her chair to look at JJ.

“Wait, what?” JJ asked. She looked up from her textbook.

“So... I’ve hacked into the college database,” Penelope said, turning back to her computer, her hands were once again typing a mile a minute. “Because of the whole thing with Reid not telling us about his birthday, the poor thing, and I didn’t want to miss anyone else’s.”

“Maybe we could do a co-birthday?” JJ mused, thinking about the logistics of that.

“You read my mind, my beautiful sporty friend,” Penelope replied. “I’ve almost got everyone’s, just a minute.”

JJ stood up, walked over to Garcia’s side of the room. Somehow, her side of the room was cleaner than JJ’s, despite the sheer amount of things. Her desk was covered in trinkets, decorations and her wall covered in posters, art prints and photographs. JJ’s, on the other hand, had significantly less stuff, and way more mess. She was a busy girl and her desk was basically useless with all of her books and loose paper and miscellaneous things she needed to deal with ages ago.

“Did you know that Morgan is a gemini?” Penelope asked.

“Figures,” JJ replied, hoping that was the right response.

Garcia had two monitors on her light, wooden desk, and a large desktop computer that she had built herself tucked underneath. On one monitor, was a file that she was slowly adding to, of birthdays written in white text on a grey background. Her own was there, alongside Spencer, Hotch, Derek….

JJ then watched as Garcia typed out Emily’s birthday: October 12. They had missed it too!

“Oh my god,” Penelope said, “why don’t they tell us these things?! How did we befriend such secretive people.”

“Wait, when was that?” JJ murmured, grabbing her wall calendar and flipping through the pages. “Oh my god I saw her that day. She was baking cookies, alone.”

“Alone?” Penelope whimpered.

JJ thought back to that night. She had barged into the kitchen, talked all about her impending break up with Will, and ate Emily’s cookies. She felt awful. Obviously they didn’t know each other as well then, but why was she alone?

“She didn’t even tell Derek,” Penelope said, “oh that sweet summer child. Who hurt her?”

JJ always celebrated her birthday. Be it a family dinner or a full on birthday party when she was a kid, JJ was used to a fuss made about her each year. It was harder after Ros, but her parents refused to let the day pass without at least a cake and a present.

As she befriended Penelope last year, their birthdays were filled with presents and friendship and alcohol, both girls making sure to give the other a thoughtful gift and make a fuss for the day.

Her heart was breaking that three of her new friends were about to let theirs pass without anything to show for it.

“We should have a party,” JJ blurted.

“You read my mind.”

JJ frankly welcomed the distraction from her circular thoughts about her kiss with Emily.

———

JJ left another store empty handed. She had first placed an order at a store downtown for a birthday cake, with three names on it which confused the baker, then began to wander downtown searching for presents.

She had another half hour before she was supposed to meet back up with Derek and Penelope, who were at the dollar store buying decorations, and she had hoped to find something for Emily by then.

The three of them were quite efficient at party planning, and they had to be with such a quick turnaround time. JJ had been tasked with finding a present for Emily.

For Hotch, they wrangled a bottle of the nicer whiskey that he liked, because even at the age of 21, he was somehow already an old man in his tastes. Spencer was also easy, because Penelope was working on knitting him a scarf. Apparently it was from the show Dr. Who, but JJ didn’t really know much about that besides that it was British and both he and Penelope were big fans.

Emily was a lot harder to shop for.

What could JJ get for her with the thirty dollars that they all had pitched in to fund her present? Not much. Especially since JJ knows that Emily comes from money. If she wanted something, she could probably just buy it for herself, right?

It was also difficult because it would be from her. It would be a token of her affections. What were her affections? Did she want to simply sleep with her? Date with her? Be her best friend? JJ’s thoughts were a mess.

JJ had been in just about every store downtown, browsing clothes, gift stores, even a plant store in which she contemplated the meaning of getting Emily a cactus. Nothing was quite right.

She had almost given up when she wandered past a used book store. She had never been in before but always meant to. Out front was a stack of old milk crates filled with books, mostly romance novels and thrillers, and inside the window, beautifully bound antique books were resting in the display.

A bell dinged as she walked in, and an elderly man waved at her from the counter before returning to his own book.

Inside, the smell of old books filled her senses, mixed with the smell of apples and cinnamon and the earthy smell of all the old buildings in her college town.

Stacked floor to ceiling were mountains of books, towering over her head.

There were a few other patrons in the shop, some sitting and reading, others wandering the stacks, pulling out the occasional book.

JJ slowly made her way through the maze. It was larger inside than she expected, with thousands of old books surrounding her, no matter where she looked. At times, she had to step over a pile of books in her path.

The books were organized by topic, but within that, JJ couldn’t discern a clear system.

She climbed the creaky staircase and pondered what kind of book Emily would like. Is buying her a romance novel too forward? JJ wondered. She probably wouldn’t be able to find one with two women anyways.

Did Emily like fantasy? Sci-fi? Non Fiction? Should JJ get her something she’s read? JJ realized that she hadn’t read anything that wasn’t for school in ages.

JJ felt overwhelmed. Was she thinking too hard?

She did a double take at the window sill, realizing that the movement that caught her eye was a black cat basking in the sunlight.

JJ reached out her hand tentatively to pet it. The cat nuzzled her hand, and began to purr. JJ smiled, spending a few minutes giving the cat much needed attention.

The cat then stood, apparently growing bored, and ran off to investigate something or chase a mouse or whatever bookstore cats got up to.

Where it lay was a small book. It was old, but not as old as some of the other leather bound texts in this store. Its white cover had a simple drawing of a boy, and written in a looping script: “Le Petit Prince.”

JJ smiled slightly, picking up the thin book. She leaned against the windowsill and carefully flipped through the pages, admiring the illustrations and trying to decipher the premise with her limited understanding of French.

It seemed like it was for children, with whimsical art of a boy on a small planet, a king, a rose and a fox, among other things. She read the first few pages, about a boy falling in love with a flower, and decided it was perfect.

It was a sign, JJ thought, the cat led her to this book.

The cat—which reminded JJ of Emily with its standoffish exterior but affectionate personality—had clearly shown her that this was the perfect present.

There was no price on it, and JJ worried that it would be out of her budget. Holding it to her chest, she descended the steps and brought the book to the clerk.

“Hello sir,” JJ greated him, setting the book down on the table, “How much is this book? ”

He was seated in a comfortable looking chair behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register. The sign on it read, ‘cash only’ and there was a tip jar in the form of a cat mug.

“Oh this is an excellent choice!” The man lifted the book up, examining the cover. “On ne voit qu’avec le cœur.”

That was French. JJ didn’t know what it meant, only catching the word “heart” at the end. She nodded nonetheless.

“You speak French?” He asked her.

She shrugged. “I’m learning.”

“This book will teach you more than just French,” the man said. “Trust me.”

JJ didn’t know what he meant, but nodded. He still hadn’t told her how much it was.

“It’s a gift,” JJ explained, “for a friend.”

He handed her back the book, smiling at her. He gave it to her for fifteen dollars, seeming to make up the price on the spot. The black cat waited for her near the door, letting her pet him on the ears before she left.

JJ left the door, hugging the book to her chest.

———

Wrangling three of their friends into attending a surprise party was harder than it looked.

With three student athletes, nights during which none of them had games, or practices were scarce, so it took them until the next Friday before they found a free evening. Then, they had to go through the ordeal of convincing them to show up at Derek’s room at the right time.

JJ felt giddy with the secret, greatly enjoying the party planning and doing something special for her new friends. On her Wednesday afternoon study date with Emily, her excitement for the party almost overpowered her nervousness with the girl due to their recent kiss. JJ caught herself looking more at Emily than her notes, alternating between imagining them kissing and imagining the look on Emily’s face when she received her present.

By seven that Friday night, they had fully decorated Derek’s tiny dorm with streamers, balloons, and just about anything Penelope could find at the dollar store. A happy birthday sign was strung over one of the windows, with the addition of their friends' names written in marker on poster boards taped underneath.

Their presents were wrapped messily, as JJ wasn’t particularly good at using wrapping paper. The cake sat on Derek’s desk reading “Happy (belated) birthday Emily, Hotch and Spencer!” in red icing on white cake.

The three of them were frantically blowing up balloons and checking their phones. JJ felt slightly light headed by the time they were done.

Hotch and Emily were coming for a “study date” with Derek, and Spencer was expecting a Dr. Who marathon with Garcia. All were supposed to be there any minute.

There was a knock on the door.

“Get ready!” Garcia squealed, “someone’s here!”

She opened the door, and instead of the birthday kids, it was David Rossi, who JJ had met for the first time a few weeks prior. He was 22, only a few months older than Hotch, in his first year of his masters. He and Hotch were close, and Emily and Derek knew him well since he TA’d one of their classes.

“Rossi?” Derek said, “you came!”

“I never turn down an invitation to a party,” he said.

“I have to admit,” Derek said, “it’s not that much of a party.“

“It’s more of a magical birthday get together,” Penelope said as she ushered him in.

“Good thing I brought enough alcohol to make it a party,” he said.

He pulled a very expensive looking bottle of vodka out of his backpack, and more beers than should fit in a normal sized bag.

“I take it back,” Derek said, “this is definitely a party.”

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Garcia said, picking up a balloon to throw.

Spencer opened the door trailed by Hotch and Emily, all looking confused as they were bombarded by a dozen balloons cascading down from above and a series of hugs from the group. All were looking around with a mix of shock and happiness on their faces.

“It’s technically none of your birthdays today,” Penelope said, “Because you are all such awful private people, BUT I got the goods and figured it out. We thought we would celebrate all of you guys, and our amazing friend group, with this little shindig.”

“It’s wonderful Garcia,” Hotch said, almost smiling, “Thank you.”

“Don’t just thank me!” she said, “It was Miss Jennifer’s idea, and she got the cake. And my beautiful Derek helped me with the decorations and loaned his room, which might I say, is strangely large for a single room.”

Derek chucked, “It was my pleasure, happy birthday you three.”

He pulled Spencer in and ruffled his hair.

“We’ve ordered pizza too!” JJ announced, “It should be here any minute now.”

“You’re too good to us,” Emily finally spoke up, after standing in the doorway with a dazed expression on her face.

Penelope guided them in, and the group exchanged hugs and laughter, and Hotch got a very Italian kiss on the cheek from Rossi. Penelope put silly birthday hats on their heads, and took photos like a proud mother.

After a few minutes of chatter—about the decorations, how they managed to keep it a secret, and most importantly, the illegality of Penelope hacking into their personal data on the university server— JJ’s phone pinged and she ran to the foyer to get the pizzas.

Munching on greasy food, there was a companionable silence with the cheery sounds of the music in the background.

As pizza wrapped up, their chatter resumed and the room filled with overlapping conversations. JJ noticed Rossi had snuck off to fish something out of Derek’s mini fridge, pouring something out into shot glasses. Then she heard the sound of whipped cream.

At that sound, all heads turned towards him. He had three cups filled to the brim with whipped cream and he looked like he was about to burst into laughter at any point.

“BIRTHDAY SHOTS!” Penelope squealed.

“No way,” Hotch said, “I’m not doing one of those.”

“One of what?” Spencer asked nervously.

“It’s not a blowjob is it?” Emily asked with a laugh.

“A blowjob?” Spencer asked even more nervously.

“It’s a shot, kid,” Derek assured him, “you just can’t use your hands and there’s the-“

He gestured at the whipped cream with a laugh.

“White stuff!” Emily said, tying up her hair into a ponytail in preparation.

Rossi had to explain the premise several times, before it sunk in that they had to fish out the small shot and drink it all without using their hands. Reid looked at them suspiciously but he warmed up to the idea after Hotch offered to go first so he could see how it’s done.

The older boy had definitely done a blowjob shot before, efficiently grabbing the plastic shot cup and downing it, his cheeks covered with whipped cream.

Emily was enthusiastically buried in the whipped cream but struggled on the follow through, spilling most of the vodka into the larger cup before she drank it.

Reid seemed nervous to get the whipped cream on his face, reeling back and wiping his cheeks then trying again.

Eventually, Derek reached his hand into the cup, retrieved the shot and held it up to Spencer’s mouth.

“Look ma, no hands!” Morgan quipped before rubbing some leftover whipped cream on the younger boy’s face as the group laughed. Reid was laughing happily, beaming as he wiped his face.

With the celebratory shot in their system, it was time for cake. JJ carefully used Penelope’s bright pink lighter to ignite candles on each piece for her three friends as they sang Happy Birthday to them.

“Happy birthday to you!” They sang, “happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Hotch, Spence and Emily! Happy birthday to you!”

They blew out their candles. All were instructed to make wishes.

As the night progressed, JJ got more and more nervous about the present. What if Emily hated it? Would she ruin the whole night? Penelope and Derek had assured her that it was a good present but what if they were wrong too?

JJ busied herself with cutting the cake, distributing pieces and making sure everyone had forks and napkins.

Rossi, who was their unofficial bartender, was stationed near the mini fridge and passed out fresh beers when called upon.

“Gifts!” Penelope exclaimed once they had made good work of the cake, dragging the presents out from their hiding space under Derek’s desk.

She handed them over to Emily, Hotch and Reid.

“We all pitched in,” Derek said.

All three looked perturbed at the fuss, murmuring “you shouldn’t have” as they looked at the gift. Spencer opened his and laughed, wrapping the incredibly long striped scarf around his neck and thanking Penelope. Aaron actually did smile at his present and expressed his gratitude by pouring them all shots.

Emily held hers for a moment, staring at the wrapped book with an unreadable expression on her face. JJ watched, holding her breath as she turned it over, then placed it back down.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” Emily said, her voice tight and sounding very… formal.

JJ gulped as Emily stood, and exited the dorm, shutting the door behind her. She immediately thought that she had done something wrong.

The group looked back and forth, not quite sure what to do, as the commotion happened mid way through Hotch doling out shots of whiskey and some were already half raised.

A moment passed as JJ thought about whether it would be worse for her to follow or leave her be. Maybe she wanted to be left alone? Maybe JJ was the last person Emily wanted to see?

She knew there was a lot about Emily that she didn’t know. Like JJ, the other girl kept a lot close to her chest. Over time, JJ had learned some details of her childhood, but not all, and what she knew didn’t look good. Maybe all of this was a bad idea? Emily might have had a reason that she didn’t celebrate her birthday. This could have been an awful plan and it would have been all JJ’s fault.

She stood and grabbed the book, deciding to follow Emily. She slipped out the door and walked slowly down the hall, unsure of what she would even say to Emily once she faced her. Hey I just gave you a gift and you all but ran out of the room before you opened it, did I offend you somehow? Or I’m sorry?

JJ wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. She just knew something was upsetting Emily and the last thing JJ wanted to be was the cause of that. In fact, she wanted to make Emily happy and make sure nothing ever bothered her ever again. It would probably be weird for her to say that, right?

She assumed that Emily had gone to the communal bathroom, as she left her lanyard with her room keys behind her in Derek’s room. If she had left the floor she would have been locked out.

JJ took a breath outside the door, then pushed it open.

Emily was standing in the bathroom that all of the girls floor shared, with its small row of stalls, old fashioned sinks and blue tiled floor. A frosted window that looked out into the courtyard. Many mornings JJ found herself brushing her teeth next to the other girl.

Emily had her arms braced on the sides of the sink, leaning forward and looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was coming in quick breaths.

“Em?” JJ said softly.

Startled by the noise, Emily looked away from her, quickly pulling up a corner of her shirt to wipe her eyes.

“You ok?” JJ asked, tucking the present behind her back.

“I’m fine,” Emily said, standing up straight and giving her a half smile. Her posture was stiff, her smile forced.

“You don’t look fine.”

Emily stepped back, leaning against the window sill. She crossed her arms, still avoiding any eye contact.

JJ walked forward, slowly closing the distance.

She leaned on the wall beside Emily, trying not to stare at her and make her feel uncomfortable.

“Did I do something wrong?” JJ asked. Her voice sounded small in her ears. She immediately kicked herself, upset at how this might sound like she was making it all about herself.

“No!” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head. “No. It wasn’t you it’s…”

She trailed off.

“I’ve never had all this before. The friends and the party and the gifts. All this attention… it’s a lot.”

She slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. JJ did the same, turning to face the other girl. She didn’t want to push too hard lest Emily flee from her again.

“It’s all so nice,” Emily whispered.

“Then what’s wrong?” JJ asked softly.

Emily sighed and began to bite her nails. Her posture was hunched over, curled up on the cold tile floor.

She began to speak, then stopped herself, gritting her teeth and blinking hard. She looked over at JJ reluctantly, seeming to think hard about how to answer that question.

“I was always the new girl wherever I was,” she said. “I was never anywhere enough to make friends, real friends that is. Or have anything like all this. I would do anything to fit in and it never seemed to work.”

JJ’s heart felt like it was breaking for her friend. She tried to imagine Emily trying to be anyone else other than the Emily she knew and couldn’t. Fitting in is hard, let alone fitting into new countries and learning new languages. JJ knew she wouldn’t have been able to keep it together.

Emily shook her head, picking at the skin around her nails anxiously, JJ could tell that sharing all of this was incredibly difficult.

“I lived in a dozen different countries and was barely there long enough to make friends and when I did…” Emily sighed. “I fucked it up. I make things worse for people.”

Emily buried her face in her hands, her breaths coming harder now. Her voice was shaky and quiet, almost whispering to JJ.

“My mom was never around on my birthdays. She would leave me a present. Maybe. This year she didn’t even call.”

Emily paused.

“And then you guys do all this.”

Emily looked up, staring with unfocused eyes into the bathroom, JJ could tell she was thinking of someone else, some other day. She looked lost.

JJ wanted to hold her hand, wanted to comfort her, keep her close. She was always called the mom friend, it was in her nature to try and make sure her friends were taken care of. Her feelings for Emily complicated things. If she was anyone else, she would grab her hand, no questions asked, but she felt herself second-guessing each move.

Her actions suddenly felt like they had more weight to them. Knowing that she liked Emily made everything strange. If she held her hand, would it be weird? She didn’t know. Normally, she wouldn’t question holding a friend’s hand, hell, she’d already held Emily’s hand.

But that was before she was gay, or bi, or whatever. Before she knew she liked girls. Liked Emily. Now, touching her felt scary, like she was doing something wrong, even if she was simply trying to be nice.

Fighting against her anxious thoughts, JJ reached out, tugging at Emily’s wrist until her hand clasped onto hers. JJ ran a reassuring thumb over her hand. She sighed a breath of relief when Emily leaned into the touch.

“You’re our friend,” JJ said, simply. “And we care about you.”

Emily nodded, still not looking at her.

“When I held your present in my hands,” Emily said, “I just couldn't stop thinking of my friend Matthew. He surprised me on my sixteenth birthday, pulling me out of some stupid event my mother had dragged me to. That was the only time I got a real birthday present before now.”

JJ hadn’t heard about this friend. Emily didn’t really talk about her past, beyond the general facts. JJ had to stop herself from prying, fighting back her curiosity in favour of letting Emily talk.

She squeezed Emily’s hand in a gesture she hoped would be encouraging.

“Your gift just brought back a lot of memories,” Emily said with a whisper. “Matthew basically saved my life. He was the only friend I had before now I guess.”

She looked over at JJ.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, wiping at her eyes.

“Don’t be.”

JJ pulled Emily into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. Emily let out a muffled sob and fell into her, with her head tucked under JJ’s chin. They sat like that for a while, JJ listening to Emily’s ragged breathing and JJ running a calming hand over her back. Emily’s face was buried in her shoulder, her soft hair tickled JJ’s face as she held her tight.

She focused on rubbing Emily’s back, making patterns with her hand on top of her soft sweater. Emily’s arms were wrapped around her waist.

For a moment, tears pricked at JJ’s eyes. Watching Emily finally be vulnerable to her, for her to share something, even if she left out details, was a lot. She blinked them back and focused on steadying her breathing, being a calm presence for Emily.

After a moment Emily pulled away, creating some distance between them, wiping her face with her sleeve and sniffling.

“JJ I don’t want you to get hurt,” Emily said, her voice cracking, “I just bring people pain.”

“What happened, Em?” JJ asked.

Emily looked at her with teary eyes and shook her head.

“You don’t have to tell me, Emily. But I need you to know that whatever it is, I’ll still be here. I care so much about you and just… like being your friend. I don’t care what happened in your past or if you think you’re going to hurt me. All I care about is us.”

“I like being your friend,” Emily said with a teary laugh.

JJ smiled at her, pulling her into another hug. Holding her tight feeling like the girl would break into pieces in front of her if she let go.

“Do you want your present?” JJ asked carefully, still hugging Emily. She could feel the other girl nod.

JJ pulled back, taking the wrapped book from the tile floor and placing it in Emily’s lap. Emily carefully began to unwrap it, as if she wasn’t allowed to rip the brightly patterned paper.

“You know you can rip it, right?” JJ said with a kind laugh. “Just tear it open, it’s part of the fun!”

Emily looked at her nervously, and half heartedly tugged at the wrapping paper.

“Harder!” JJ said, demonstrating by pulling on it and making a satisfying tearing noise. JJ assumed that the girl didn’t have the opportunity to tear open presents as a kid, and JJ wanted to make sure she didn’t miss out on that joy anymore.

Emily laughed and tore at it, ripping the paper off and revealing the small book underneath. Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

“I read this as a kid,” Emily breathed, staring at the cover reverently.

She opened the cover and looked through the first few pages.

“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux,” Emily quoted the novel just as the book shop clerk had done.

“What is essential is invisible to the eyes,” JJ translated. “I don’t really get it. I tried to read it before I gave it to you, but didn’t make much headway.”

“It’s about love,” Emily said as she flipped through the pages.

Emily slowly turned the pages, smiling down at the whimsical illustrations and murmured about it in French that JJ couldn’t quite make out.

“I could translate it for you if you want?” Emily offered.

“Is it as good in English?”

“No,” Emily said with a laugh.

JJ beamed, happy that her gift was no longer making Emily upset. She hoped that whatever bad memories she had about birthdays were being amended with some joy from today.

“Well then I just have to get better at French so that I can understand it,” JJ said. “I’ll need a good tutor.”

“This is an amazing present. Thank you JJ.”

They smiled at each other.

“I’ll read it to you,” Emily said, “And you can stop me and I can explain anything you don’t understand.”

JJ’s heart fluttered at the thought of Emily reading a love story out loud. Though, from what she saw it was about a boy being in love with a flower so it couldn’t be that romantic, could it?

��Sounds like a plan,” JJ said. “Should we get back? I wouldn’t want to worry the others.”

Emily nodded, then the two of them stood up together. JJ’s legs had fallen asleep while sitting on the cold, tiled floor so she dramatically shook them out, making Emily laugh.

God her laugh, she wanted to hear that forever. She’d do anything to keep Emily smiling and happy.

As they walked back to the party, it was Emily who took JJ’s hand.

Maybe they could be friends. Maybe that would be enough.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #prentiss x jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #after all that i almost forgot to actually post it #hope u all enjoy xoxoox #kennedy is not in this chapter i am sorry to her fans

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