#and i decided to write it down instead so here

[sh4nksslvt]

Smoke Break

A collection of fiery, smoky encounters where passion burns as hot as the cigars and blunts exchanged between you and some of the world’s most dangerous daddies i mean men — every kiss laced with smoke, heat, and unspoken desire.

Benn beckman x reader x sanji x smoker x crocodile | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirty, smok!ng, w3ed mentions, blvnt smok!ng, cigarette smok!n, mouth-to-mouth sm0ke sharing, minor spit description, light nsfw tension

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I'm so high in here, been smokin' on this weed

Only drug a bitch is on is the tree

But I lasted ten rounds like a freak

Like a G

Benn Beckman

The deck still stank of gunpowder and sea salt by the time you slumped onto the steps leading up to the helm, boots heavy with exhaustion. Your knuckles throbbed from the earlier brawl with some no-name pirate crew dumb enough to pick a fight with the Red Hair Pirates. You won, obviously—but victory didn’t erase the tight coil of stress still buzzing under your skin.

You dragged your hood up over your head, shielding your face from the low sun. Hands steady, you pulled out a battered little tin from your pocket, the familiar ritual already soothing your frayed nerves. You broke down the nug slowly, fingers working with careful, practiced motions. You barely even registered the distant sound of boots approaching.

Benn Beckman stopped a few feet away, cigarette halfway to his lips, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you hunched over the tray.

He leaned against the rail, arms crossed.

"Rough day?" he drawled.

You didn’t look up right away, just finished rolling your blunt with a lazy flick of your thumb. When you finally glanced his way, your gaze was cool, detached—like you were sizing him up and decided he wasn’t worth worrying about.

"Nothing a smoke can't fix," you muttered, voice low and even.

Benn whistled low under his breath, impressed.

"Didn't think you were the type to roll your own medicine."

You snorted, lighting the blunt with a snap of your lighter.

"Cigs are for rookies," you said, plucking the cigarette from his fingers without asking. You tucked the blunt between his lips instead, your touch casual, intimate.

Benn played along, inhaling deep. His eyes hooded slightly as the taste hit him—stronger, sweeter than he expected.

"Holy shit," he coughed out, laughing.

You took the blunt back from him with two fingers, tapping it lightly against the railing.

"Too much for you, old man?" you teased, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of your mouth.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in his chest.

"Old enough to know better. Dumb enough not to care."

You offered the blunt again—not by hand this time, but by leaning in, smoke trailing from your lips in a lazy, tantalizing swirl. Benn caught on quick, closing the small distance between you. His mouth brushed yours just enough to catch the exhale directly, smoke passing from your tongue to his.

The heat flared instantly.

Before you could pull back, he tilted his head slightly, deepening it into a kiss—slow, languid, tasting of smoke and adrenaline. His hand found your jaw, rough thumb grazing your cheekbone with a kind of reverence that didn’t match how fucking cocky he was about it.

When you finally parted, a thin, silver thread of spit clung stubbornly between your tongues until it snapped, leaving a hot smear of want in its wake.

You sat back, lazily dragging the blunt between your lips again. Your expression barely shifted—still that same unreadable cool—but your hooded eyes glittered with something dangerous, something alive.

Benn wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning like he just won the biggest prize in the world.

"You always this generous after a fight?" he asked, voice low and rough.

You exhaled slow, letting the smoke roll between you both like a secret.

"Depends who's asking."

Benn’s grin widened, cigarette long forgotten at his side.

"Good," he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell the faint whiskey on his breath.

"'Cause I’m not planning on being just a one-time habit."

Sanji

The galley was quiet at night, all the chaos of the day gone still. It was your favorite time—when the ship seemed to breathe slow and easy, and nobody was around to bother you.

You sat perched on the counter, blunt half-rolled between your fingers, working fast but precise. You glanced around — no way in hell you could borrow a lighter from anyone without exposing your little habit.

Of course you didn’t bring yours. Of course.

You sighed through your nose and hopped down from the counter, moving toward the stovetop. You twisted the burner’s dial, letting a tall flame lick up from the gas, the soft click click whoosh breaking the silence.

You leaned into the flame, lighting the tip of your blunt directly against it, shielding it with one hand like an old habit.

That’s when you heard a low whistle behind you.

"You know," Sanji’s voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and amused, "most people come to the kitchen for food. Not... that."

You turned slightly, the blunt between your lips, glowing softly as you took your first pull. You held his gaze through the smoke, your expression unreadable, unbothered.

"Guess I’m not most people," you said coolly, exhaling a slow, thick ribbon of smoke into the low light.

Sanji didn’t flinch. Didn't fawn.

Instead, he grinned, a slow, dangerous curve of his mouth as he stepped into the kitchen, cigarette tucked behind his ear, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

"You could've just asked for a light," he teased, voice like silk and heat. "I would've given it to you. Anything you want."

You shrugged one shoulder, casual.

"Not exactly advertising my hobbies."

Sanji stopped a few feet away, head tilting just slightly, studying you. You could feel the weight of his gaze — not heavy, not invasive — just... there, like a hand trailing just over your skin without touching.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You took another hit, slow and deliberate, letting the thick taste settle on your tongue. As you exhaled, Sanji moved closer, crossing into your space so naturally it felt like gravity.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, eyes dropping to the blunt between your fingers.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, parting your lips just enough to offer the smoke right to him.

Sanji caught the game instantly.

He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the counter. Then he leaned in, mouth brushing dangerously close to yours—not kissing, not yet—and drew the smoke straight from your mouth with a slow, deep inhale.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the warm skin behind your ear.

When he exhaled, it was right against your lips, warm and intoxicating.

The space between you crackled.

You barely had time to process before he closed the gap completely, his mouth pressing to yours in a kiss that was all slow burn, all slow claiming. His grip tightened just a little, guiding you against the counter behind you without force—just the kind of confident pressure that made your stomach flip.

You kissed him back, matching his heat with your own, the taste of smoke and fire mixing between your tongues. When you finally parted, a thin, sticky thread of spit clung between you, snapping when you tilted your head back, breathless but still wearing that same cool smirk.

Sanji stayed close, his forehead brushing against yours, his fingers still tangled loosely in your hair.

"You," he said, voice low and warm, "are way too dangerous to be left alone in my kitchen."

You chuckled, flicking ash into the sink.

"Then don’t leave," you said, voice lazy, teasing.

Sanji smiled against your cheek, teeth just grazing your skin as he whispered,

"Wasn't planning to."

And from the way his hand slid down to your hip, you knew he meant it.

Smoker

The port was busy, noisy, and reeking of salt and sweat.

Perfect place to disappear for a while.

You slipped between two battered brick buildings, finding a patch of shade away from the main street. No patrols, no Marines. Just the low hum of the sea and the sharp scratch of your lighter as you tried, once, twice — and cursed under your breath.

Dead. Perfect.

You rolled the unlit blunt between your fingers, considering your options. Borrowing a lighter wasn’t on the table — too many judging eyes. Especially for someone like you, already treading too close to the Navy's leash.

"Problem?"

The deep, rough voice made you freeze. A shadow stretched into the alley. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Vice-Admiral Smoker stepped into view, coat draped over his broad shoulders, two cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling around his head like a storm cloud.

You gave him a flat look, the blunt dangling lazily from your lips.

"No lighter," you said simply.

Smoker snorted, amused in that dry, almost imperceptible way of his. He pulled one cigar free and tucked it into his coat, flicking his silver lighter open with a smooth motion.

He lit his remaining cigar, took a deep drag — and then, without saying a word, held the lighter out to you.

You raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, cupping a hand around the flame as you lit the blunt, your face close enough to his chest that you could smell the faint scent of smoke, leather, and something warmer underneath.

You inhaled slow, savoring the first pull, then leaned back against the rough brick wall with a sigh.

"Didn't peg you for the sharing type," you said, smoke curling from your mouth.

Smoker grunted, replacing the cigar between his lips.

"Don't make me regret it," he said, but there was no real bite in his voice.

For a moment, you just stood there, passing slow, lazy pulls between you. The world outside the alley blurred into meaningless noise.

Then, bold from the buzz creeping in your veins, you leaned forward again—holding the blunt between your fingers—and offered the smoke directly to him, a silent challenge.

Smoker’s gaze sharpened slightly, amused. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and stepped into your space, his broad chest almost brushing yours.

Without hesitation, he caught the smoke straight from your lips, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him — and then, instead of pulling back, he kissed you.

It was rough at first, full of the same heat and tension that always seemed to spark between you. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing firmly as he tilted your head back just slightly.

You opened for him without thinking, the kiss deepening into something slower, hotter — tongues brushing, breath hitching between you. His mouth tasted of smoke and salt and something that was just him.

The world outside the alley dissolved entirely.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t messy — just breathless, lingering. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the haze of smoke curling between you.

"You," he muttered, voice low and thick, "are nothing but bad news."

You smirked against his lips, your hands still fisted loosely in the fabric of his coat.

"Good thing you’re terrible at saying no," you murmured.

Smoker let out a rough, half-laugh, half-growl, and kissed you again—deeper, slower, like he had no plans to stop this time.

And honestly, neither did you.

You barely had time to settle into the heat of Smoker’s mouth again, the slow grind of his body pressing yours back against the brick wall, when—

"S-smoker-san?!"

The sharp voice cracked through the alley like a gunshot.

Both of you froze.

Smoker broke the kiss with a low, almost feral growl under his breath, his hand still curled possessively around your waist.

You cracked one eye open lazily, barely lifting your head from Smoker’s shoulder to glance toward the entrance of the alley.

Tashigi stood there, sword awkwardly bumping against her hip, her entire face rapidly turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"I— I— I was looking for you to discuss patrol routes— but I can—! I can come back later!" she sputtered, already halfway turning on her heel, practically tripping over herself to get away.

Smoker let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, the kind of breath that usually meant someone was about to get absolutely wrecked—but he didn’t move away from you. His hand stayed right where it was, fingers still flexing slightly against your hip.

"You’d better," he said, loud enough for Tashigi to hear as she fled back into the chaos of the port.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. A low, smoky sound that vibrated against his chest.

"Think we traumatized her," you said, voice rough with amusement.

Smoker shot you a sideways glare, but there was no real fire behind it. If anything, he looked... pleased. Dangerous. Like a man who didn’t give a damn who saw what he wanted.

"Serves her right for barging in without knocking," he muttered, gruff.

You arched a brow, grinning lazily up at him.

"Maybe you should install a door in your alleys."

Smoker huffed a laugh — a real one, low and brief — and bent to kiss you again, less careful this time. Hotter, a little messier. His free hand finally dropped the half-burned cigar, grinding it under his boot as he pressed you back into the wall, fully claiming your mouth again like he had all the time in the world.

And honestly, for once, you hoped he did.

Crocodile

The lounge was dim, soaked in the kind of golden light that made everything seem a little more expensive than it probably was.

Low jazz music played from hidden speakers, and the soft clink of chips and whiskey glasses filled the background.

You slouched lazily in a velvet armchair near the back, rolling the blunt between your fingers, cool and unbothered. No one really noticed you here — not with the heavyweights and high-rollers stealing the spotlight.

But, of course, he noticed.

You felt it before you saw him — a shift in the room’s atmosphere, a change in the way conversations dropped to murmurs.

Crocodile’s presence was like a thundercloud creeping over sunny skies.

You kept your expression blank, indifferent, even as you realized your lighter was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

Exactly what you needed.

You sighed, the blunt sitting unlit between your lips, considering your next move.

A shadow fell across your table. You didn’t bother looking up.

"Need something?" Crocodile’s voice rumbled, amused.

You tilted your head slightly, fixing him with a bored stare, the blunt still balanced at the corner of your mouth.

"Seems I’m short a flame," you said, voice dry.

Crocodile’s lips curled around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something sharp and entertained.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he bent slightly at the waist — slow, deliberate — bringing the burning tip of his cigar close to the end of your blunt.

Too close.

He stopped just shy, forcing you to lean in to meet him.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and steady, and leaned forward, lips brushing barely near his cigar, lighting your own off the glowing ember. The flame caught with a faint crackle, a tiny hiss.

The whole time, Crocodile didn’t move an inch.

The smell of smoke, expensive leather, and something faintly spiced wrapped around you like a second skin.

You leaned back into your chair, taking a long, slow pull from the newly lit blunt. The first hit bloomed warm in your lungs. You exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, your eyes half-lidded.

"You're welcome," Crocodile said, voice dripping with dry amusement, straightening to his full height.

You tapped ash into a crystal ashtray nearby without even glancing at him.

"Didn’t say thank you," you replied coolly.

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in the base of his chest.

"Didn't expect you to."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension crackled softly between you, thick and slow, like molasses dripping from a knife.

Crocodile shifted, the gold of his rings catching the low light as he pulled a chair up to yours — close enough that his knee brushed yours under the table.

Deliberate.

Territorial.

"You planning to cause trouble tonight?" he asked, cigar smoke curling lazily around his words.

You blew out another cloud of smoke, just as lazy, just as unbothered.

"Depends," you murmured, voice low. "You planning to stop me?"

Crocodile smirked around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

"Not tonight."

He sat back, perfectly relaxed, the image of a king amused by the antics of his favorite piece.

You could feel his eyes on you as you smoked, weighing every slow drag, every lazy exhale.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house always won in places like this.

And tonight, it was clear you weren’t going anywhere.

The minutes slipped by in a slow, heavy haze.

The blunt burned low between your fingers, each drag slower than the last. Across the small table, Crocodile watched you like a predator sizing up easy prey — not rushing, not moving, just waiting for the exact right moment.

You met his gaze through the rising smoke, your face blank, but your heart starting to thrum a little harder behind your ribs.

He shifted finally, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees. The gold of his rings caught the light again, flashing like a warning.

"Come here," he said lowly, almost conversational, like you were a thing he fully expected to obey.

You didn't move immediately. You took another lazy pull from your blunt instead, blowing the smoke off to the side with a small smirk. Testing him. Pushing.

Crocodile huffed a small laugh under his breath, all amusement gone razor sharp.

Without warning, he reached across the table, hand catching you by the wrist — not rough, but firm, dragging you forward until you were pulled out of your chair and into his space.

The blunt dangled forgotten from your fingers as he leaned in — close enough that you could see the faint scar cutting across his face, the glint of amusement and warning in his heavy-lidded eyes.

He reached up with two fingers, plucking the blunt casually from your grip and setting it in the ashtray with a careless flick.

"You’re slow," he murmured, voice like warm gravel. "Let me show you how it's done."

You barely had time to process it before Crocodile’s lips crashed into yours.

It was rough — like he was making a point. His mouth devoured yours with an intensity that was unexpected, yet exactly what you needed. His cigar still burned between his fingers, and before you even had the chance to think about it, he tilted the cigar toward your lips, offering the smoke as you kissed.

The warm, glowing tip of the cigar hovered near your mouth, and you instinctively opened up, taking in the deep, spicy taste as you inhaled. The heat of it filled your lungs, mixing with the taste of Crocodile’s kiss — rich, dangerous, intoxicating.

You pulled back just a bit, lips brushing against his, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out from your mouth and into his.

Without breaking eye contact, Crocodile inhaled the smoke you gave him, his gaze darkening as he held it in for a beat, then exhaled it slowly, sending it back toward you.

The air was thick now, saturated with smoke and the lingering taste of him. Every breath felt like it stretched the moment, making it last forever, and yet, you knew it was only a brief exchange.

When he pulled away, his lips were curved into that same smug, dangerous smirk.

"Better," he muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you’re getting it."

You smirked back, though your chest felt a little tighter than it had before.

"You’re insufferable," you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but your heart was still racing in your chest.

Crocodile chuckled low, the sound like a dangerous promise.

"Only when it suits me," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking another slow drag from his cigar. He didn’t look at you directly but you could feel the weight of his gaze on your lips. "You’ll learn, eventually. That’s how the game is played."

You stayed there, breathless and still, as the tension simmered between you.

The house always won.

And tonight, you were playing Crocodile's game

[wingedfuncomputer]

The outskirts of Town

Remmick x fem!reader

Summary: Living far from town with a father who treats you more like a maid instead of a daughter proves itself exhausting. Secluded treated like a bird in a cage a boring cycle life becomes until a random man shows up one night striking up an innocent deal. In name of your chicken coop you accept letting him in. Though as time passes & whispers of violence roughing a sweet couple up around town has you rethinking this weird relationship you have created with the Irish stranger who seemed to come out of thin air.

Warnings: naive!reader, apart from that none really just your father lowkey being rude to Remmick cause he’s Irish 💔.

Authors note: This is just a slice of what I’ve been writing for Remmick. My actual word count for the story is 8.5k as of now, close to finishing but I wanted to see if it’s something you Remmick lovers would want to see (I know it’s pretty lengthy). My story is aimed at not just the romance but scare factor? If that’s what you can call it. no full fledged smut or healthy romance here just trying to ground myself in realistic outcomes. I don’t think that man could love normally lmao. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.4K (proofread)

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From a far his eyes locked on her. Right as the sun set she was tending the little chickens, ushering them into the coop. Softly, she tried her hardest to close the door as if not wanting to scare them. A regular passer by wouldn't glance an eye she was a normal little thing, but not to him, not to Remmick.

It was primal how he always found himself being dragged back to her every time the sun decided to hide behind the horizon. Her sweat, her skin, her pulsing blood enticed him as if he'd known her before. She was too sweet to ravish like all those ol' people he had left a mess of before. He let himself get enveloped in the idea that his human mind,what little of it remained had.Affection. With that utterly disgusting revelation he decided to knock on her door to put an end to the feeling once and for all. Heavy, knuckles contacted the chipping paint of the wood.

You had been sweeping the floor when you heard a noise coming from the front door. A little startled your active swipe back and forth stopped confused by who would be visiting your father so late at night. Most people weren't out after sun down. "The floors ain't gon' sweep themselves keep at it girl". His gruffy voice made you grip the wooden stick tighter negating the fact it caused splinters to get stuck to your skin. It was old, long due to be  thrown away but your voice was nonexistent in this house. With a small creak a hesitant humble from a very male voice spoke, "good afternoon... sir".  You whipped your head around intrigued but found your father's body blocking the man who stood at the door. "State your business". He had never learnt kindness, it was a foreign thing to him. "I'm just a lowly traveler going on by, was wonderin' if you could offer some hospitality". A huff emitted from your father as the man continued. "My wife she's no longer with us.. I must find myself across the state but the sun is beating and unforgiving".  Your heart  ached for him, he sounded defeated. Your father surely would say mean ol' things to him n’ get violent. But suprisingly he laughed barking your name then proceeded orders at you, "fetch this man a cup of water". Only for a split second when he turned were you able to capture a glimpse, the man already looking directly at you. His features resembled my father's, except for his frame he looked thinner his face covered in what seemed to be a mix of dirt and sweat. You nod and quickly keep your eyes down. Whilst you grab a tin cup and fill it with water by the sink you hear the small hushing of their conversation asking where he was headed to and why. Your steps are weary making sure you don't spill the water.

"The Catholics did a number on my people kindness is hard to come by. Could you let me in don't want to bother the young lady much?" His first comment is what makes your father's demeanor change, you see it from a few feet away as his back tenses. He ignores the man's request to come inside, "Where you from boy?". Once only a few inches away you decide to lay down the cup by a piece of furniture near by. Eyes creeping behind your father's shoulders it was obvious to see the man was not a boy. He had good amount of muscle on his arms and lines on his face. There's a glint of a smirk in the strangers lips as he glances at you no lack of confidence, "Ireland". That's when your heart drops, with poison your father spits "get your filthy Irish ass off my f*cking property".

"I don't mean no disrespect, I'd still appreciate that water" he takes a step forward which makes your father push him you yelp afraid they'd have a full brawl and the innocent man would end up in his grave. "You won't get nothin' here ! Leave my property". Your hands go up to your father’s arms as you can see his anger exalt, his fist itching to make contact with the Irish man's face. "Father please..." his face full of anger is concentrated on you before shoving your hand away and instead drags you inside from your arm instead. "It's best if you learn to keep away from men like that ." He speaks as if the man wasn't there, you can't help but take a look once behind you once more offering a look of "I'm sorry" before the front door is slammed shut by your father.

That whole night you couldn't bring yourself to sleep tossing and turning, imagining what that poor man was going through. You didn't hear about him the following day or day after that until you found yourself reluctantly putting yet another dead bird into a sack. They were being  ripped to shreds, you made sure the coop was secured each night so what could be killing them? It was sundown, the night air hitting your skin in a way that made your hairs stick up. "coyote... or fox" your body jolts hearing someone break the silent spell in the air. Immediately letting the bag fall and taking steps back as you twist to see who the voice belonged to. "Apologies I didn't mean to scare ya". It was hard to see in the darkness but the moonlight along with your small lamp on the ground allowed you to see enough to say, "your the man from a few days ago". He was standing behind the fence that surrounded your chicken coop. "Guilty as charged" you couldn't help but laugh along with him. "I'm Remmick" he extends his hand towards you which you can only just stare at. It would've been appropriate to say your name and envelope his hand but you don't. Remmick you repeat in your head liking the ring it had to it. "My Irish hands too dirty" he murmurs to himself  which makes you start to ramble in apologies insuring his heritage had nothing to do with your lack of a response. " f’course not It's just that, no offense sir your a- your a...." Your stuttering makes heat flood your cheeks in embarrassment . "A stranger?" He says it so casually no anger laced in between his words just light heartedness. You both stare at each other in an awkward pause before you find the courage to nod. Guilt weighs in your soul after reflecting "I'm truly ashamed about what happened last time, my father...-that is no way to be treated". He just smiles, a little huff of air being exhaled as he leaned into the fence, "it happens more than you know darlin' nothin' personal". His deep voice grumbles nicely when he calls you by that little pet name making your stomach flutter. It must've been as clear as the night sky you weren't allowed around men often, let alone other people.

Remmick seems intrigued by you growing quiet tilting his head to the side as he quirks , "the way across the state ain't an easy one.. stayin’ around these parts is easier. would help if I had a place to rest... ". You would offer him your home in a heartbeat but you knew how your pops wasn't fond of him, let alone yourself. He could barely tolerate you so how would tolerate this stranger . His eyes are trained on your every twitch, your chest constricting and trembling hands playing with the loose fabric of your skirt. It was quite nice really it felt like you were a lil' rabbit troubled by your surroundings. Yet You were unaware that the greatest danger wasn't your father, no not your  father it was the devil himself looming over you in this instant.

He smacks his lips making you look back at him once more. His pointer finger is near his mouth faking thought, "well I might just got a deal that could work for both 'f us". Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you still hear the poor man out. "I can help ya with the lil' chicken problem... in exchange I get a piece of shelter". His eyes nudge at the forgotten sack beneath you then trail up your frame to your face. Your teeth grind in contemplation. If he helped manage the death of these chickens father would probably lay off my back, let me go in town for food trips or what not for the farm.

"So what da ya, say? You gon' let me in?"

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[callalillywrites]

Henry's Matchmaking Efforts

Written for @flufftober's Fluff Bingo. A3 - Craft Fair.

Spencer Reid Masterlist | Fluff Bingo Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1747

Summary: Henry decides to use his school's craft fair to try and set up his favorite godfather, Spencer, with one of his favorite teachers. His ploy seems to work, too.

Warnings: mentioned illness; awkward Spencer and reader moments; sweet Reader; smitten Spencer; matchmaking menaces - Henry and Will; lmk if I missed any

A/N: This prompt was originally going to be Aaron Hotchner's, but a poll gave it to Spencer instead. I can't say I'm disappointed, either, as this turned out so cute and so fun to write especially with Henry playing his little matchmaking role.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

"Uncle Spence, you made it," Henry shouted, his happiness apparent. He raced between the groups of people, easily dodging elbows and knees, in his pursuit of his destination. That happened to be one Spencer Reid, godfather extraordinaire.

Spencer couldn't help the smile that tugged across his lips, bending down and catching Henry in his arms. "I couldn't miss this when you invited me as sweetly as you did. Where's your mom?"

"Dad came with me. Mom's home with Michael. He's sick."

That pulled Spencer's previous smile into a frown for a moment.

Will, who'd been watching his son and his friend interact, stepped in. "Michael's fine. Just a little stomach bug going around school. Henry had it last week. He's fine to be here. We both are."

It was no secret how Spencer felt about germs, even those involving those he cared about.

Hearing that nothing serious was going on, Spencer allowed himself to relax. His attention returned to Henry as he asked, "So, what should we see first? I don't know that I've been to a craft fair like this one before. You'll have to show me how it's done. I don't want to miss anything."

Henry beamed at the idea of teaching Spencer something. His godfather was so smart, he knew, and it wasn't everyday that Spencer told someone he didn't know something. Knowing just the place they'd start, he grabbed Spencer's hand and tugged him forward.

No words were exchanged as Henry was on a mission, but a look of amusement passed between Spencer and Will.

Spencer didn't have a clue what Henry had in mind first, but he never would've considered the refreshment table set off to one side. Across the banner, he read the school's name that Henry attended. Compared to the other booths set up nearby, he didn't spy any type of signage broadcasting prices.

Henry called out a name, but Spencer couldn't quite make it out over the noise echoing through the large space. He hadn't thought to ever forget the sounds of a gym, and he hadn't really. Just that the memories had managed to fade at the edges a bit.

All Spencer knew was one moment Henry was holding his hand, and the next, he's watching Henry tugging someone from the booth until they stood in front of Spencer. Until you stood in front of him. You wore the sweetest smile Spencer could remember anyone ever wearing. When it flashed towards him, he almost forgot how to breathe. You were breathtaking.

"So, you're the famous Uncle Spence we hear so much about," you said, holding out your hand while also introducing yourself. You retracted your hand just as quickly, but your face never lost its smile. Settling for a small wave, you asked, "Are you enjoying the craft fair, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer's brain refused to work. You had him off-kilter with the knowledge you've shown in the few moments of time you've shared with him. How did you know he didn't like to touch others, especially strangers? How did you know he went by doctor rather than mister?

As if guessing his thoughts, you leaned a bit closer but not too close and said only loud enough for him to hear, "Henry talks about you a lot. We hear about your adventures every week. You're quite impressive. Henry tells us you're a real-life hero."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Spencer stammered.

His cheeks warmed at Henry's praise of him, but more so, at the way you continued to look at him. He could make out the open curiosity you had for him, but he couldn't tell if it was genuine interest one feels for another or if you were merely being polite for a student's sake. A part, bigger than he'd ever admit aloud, of him wanted it to be the former, but his experience almost assured it was the latter.

"Hm, I wouldn't discount yourself too much," you rebutted softly, your eyes leaving his face to inspect the rest of him. He really hoped you wouldn't find him lacking, grateful Hotch and Morgan weren't standing next to him. Will was more than enough to make enough comparisons. You must've liked what you saw because your smile never faltered though your attention shifted to Henry. "Wanna grab your uncle one of the cookies I promised to save just for him?"

Henry nodded and dashed behind the booth's large table.

Spencer could make out the containers from the store you'd bought the cookies. One of them held a couple leftovers that weren't available to others. The others had been set out around the table in a display meant to entice fair-goers until the supply had been depleted.

Henry raced back with the plastic package, handing it to you.

You popped it open and motioned for Spencer to take the cookies. "Only hands that might've grazed them were mine, and I wore gloves after washing my hands thoroughly. Can't be too careful nowadays."

The way you hadn't made him feel weird for his germaphobia endeared you to him all the more. It was the reason he didn't hesitate in picking up the cookies while murmuring his thanks. As politeness dictated, he took a bite and followed it up with, "There are really good."

"They're the best store-bought ones you can find," your eyes sparked with mischief as you added, "but you should really try the ones I bake sometime."

The cookie he'd been chewing lodged itself, causing him to choke.

Will came to his rescue, thumping his back until he could take in normal breaths again.

You, the sweet temptress you were, held out a small cup of lemonade from the booth you manned for the school. Your face had contorted into something more akin to someone feeling shame or apologetic of their actions as you murmured, "I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did. I mean, I do bake some great treats, but I'm not trying to insinuate anything. We are surrounded by families and little ones after all."

Spencer quickly shook his head. Even if he'd only met you, he knew enough from what Henry had told him to know you spoke the truth. Everything about you screamed how much you adored the kids, calling out to the ones you recognized. It didn't matter you held a conversation with him or any other adults that happened along. You had kind words for everyone that passed and encouragement for the few students helping you run the booth.

As if realizing he'd been monopolizing your time, he took a step back.

"I should let you get back to it," he said, grabbing up Henry's hand, "but maybe we can stop by again. See if you have anything left before we head out."

Your smile glowed once more as you nodded. "I'd really like that. Maybe you could tell me what about the booths I can't see, too. I've heard some good things, but I won't really get the chance to explore today."

"It's all weekend, isn't it?" Will asked, surprising both you and Spencer as he hadn't really said anything up until then.

You nodded.

Will continued, "Are you working the booth tomorrow?"

You shook your head.

At your answer, Will's grin came out as he eyed Spencer for a moment before turning back to you, "Then, maybe you and Spencer here could explore the fair together. That is if Spencer here wouldn't mind coming back and seeing it a second time. What do ya say, Spence?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you. That would be too much," you protested, but Spencer was already saying, "Um, yeah, I could do that."

Will clapped. "Great. Now that's settled. Henry, why don't we let them sort themselves out, then we can pick Uncle Spence back up in say another few minutes?"

Henry quickly agreed, taking off for a booth not too far away. It held a bunch of crocheted plush animals that might appeal to his younger brother.

Will followed after him after shooting Spencer a wink and saying, "Don't bungle it now."

When the two of you were alone, you risked touching Spencer's sleeve. His gaze dropped to where your warmth seeped through his thin shirt before you hastily took it away again. He missed it as soon as you did. That surprised him the most.

"Please, don't think I was fishing. I wouldn't want to impose on what's surely limited time to yourself. You don't have to come back tomorrow if you don't want to."

"But what if I want to," Spencer said over your rambling.

It was enough to have you snapping your mouth shut in brief shock. It was also enough to have Spencer wondering if he'd somehow overstepped or misread your earlier possible interest in him.

Only when your smile blossomed once more did he breathe out a soft sigh.

"I'd really like that but only if you really and truly want to."

Spencer allowed his own smile to come out as he said, "I really want to."

The two of you might've continued to smile at each other if one of your students hadn't called out to you.

"I better get back to it, but please, stop by before you leave. We can exchange numbers, then we can secure plans for tomorrow after I'm done for the day." You took a step back toward the booth behind you, but you didn't get far before you added, "I really am glad I got the chance to meet you, Dr. Reid."

Spencer offered his own sentiments, watching as you backed up until you bumped the booth. He bit his lip lest his smile grow wider at how cute you were.

It took another minute before he, too, moved away, intent on catching up with Will and Henry. After all, he had a new job to scope out the best booths to show you tomorrow. Maybe even spend a few minutes considering his options to prolong his time with you tomorrow, including possible dinner plans.

Spencer had known Henry had a special reason to ask him to his school's annual craft fair, but he hadn't counted on you being that reason. He definitely hadn't considered how much you would end up affecting him or the turn of events that took place.

But, he couldn't say he regretted them as he spared a final glance at you and your booth.

Nope, no regrets at all.

[xtarmanderx]

I’ve been thinking this over for a few days now trying to decide if I wanted to say anything. And here’s the thing. OP is completely valid in not wanting fandom to disappear inside community spaces that are locked and only certain people have access to them. Community is meant for everyone.

What I will say is this about my own personal experience.

I did not actively engage in fandom beyond reblogging here on tumblr until I joined discord nearly a decade ago. I was posting about Thiam on my main blog and someone randomly reached out to me in a message and asked if I would be interested in joining a discord about the ship. I had never even fucking heard of discord at the point. So I sat down on my steps in the evening and downloaded the app and made myself an account. Joined a server that was incredibly active with hundreds of people and I was welcomed with open arms. (Shoutout to Kate for pulling me aboard and we have remained friends ever since!)

Discord became the place where I found community. Where I found people who encouraged me to write fics and make art. I had never considered writing fanfics until I was actively talking to other people in a community and received so much encouragement and enthusiasm from my new friends. I would not be the creator I am today without discord. The whole reason I am active on this tumblr again and writing is because of discord friends.

The layout of discord isn’t perfect. And I have talked off and on with a friend about this a few times, but a BIG problem I see in discord communities is people will celebrate fics and art but never tell the creator of said piece how much they love it. Which becomes a bigger fandom problem: How does your favorite creator know that you like their work if you never actually tell them? We are not mind readers. (And for me, I fucking love kudos on works, but sometimes I do wish more people commented even if it’s just a heart.)

For me, discord provides a safe space to engage in fandom with similar people who have the same interests as me. I made a discord for a ship I created because someone asked me to make a tumblr community for them and I felt super overwhelmed by that, so I offered a discord instead. There’s roughly a dozen people on it and about half of us are active the other half lurk. Which is fine! People don’t need to engage 24/7 to be a part of a community.

I think discord can be fast paced for a lot of people, too. My friends and I will talk for literal hours in a channel and that’s sometimes hundreds of messages and that can be overwhelming to people. I think the biggest thing is to remember that conversations are never going to simply stop. It’s okay and welcome to jump in at any moment.

Discord isn’t for everyone. But I don’t think it’s going to make fandom disappear behind closed doors by any means.

please promise me fandom won't disappear entirely into discord servers, i'm too old and employed for that

[miaoua3]

RIDING SEUNCHEOL'S FACE LIKE FULL-BLOWN SITTING AND GRINDING ON IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH

YUUUUUUUP PREACH IT GURLLL YOU COULDNT TELL ME CHEOL ISNT A CERTIFIED MUNCH OHMYLORD THE NASTINESS THAT IM ABOUT TO WRITE OOOF-

Sit On It

Pairing: bf! scoups x f!reader

Genre: the nastiest smut i will probably ever write (MDNI), face sitting, praise, power play (slight), cunnulingus

Description: you make cheol’s terrible day so so much better by finally fulfilling his biggest fantasy-you sitting on his face.

Note: hyperventilating just by thinking about sitting on his beautiful face, eyebrows furrowed, big arms wrapped around my thighs- UNHOLY THOUGHTS BEGONE XJAJAKANNSOQJAIA (also, not proofread, as per usual💔)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

here’s the thing-a lot of things that you and cheol did in the bedroom was relatively new to you, considering that your previous lovers (if you can even call them that by the lack of effort they put) were selfish and conceded. so when you two started dating, and eventually sleeping together, it was surprising to experience being with someone who was so…giving, almost catering to all of your needs.

that man, if he could, he would spend every waking moment of his between your legs, either lapping and licking and sucking on your sweet pussy, or pounding into it with the force that makes the whole bed move, never mind your body.

still, there was one thing you two still have yet to try. something he has expressed he would love to do-or, well, for you to do to him.

or rather to his face.

naturally, he respected your wishes and you saying ‘no’ to his proposal. but you could see how pouty he turns every time he tries to ask if maybe you have changed your mind yet, only for you to vigorously shake your head.

it’s not that you don’t want to, it’s just…

it’s one thing to have him lay between your legs, lapping on your juices and make you soak both his face and his sheets.

it’s an entirely different thing to have that control over him-over the situation- and just grind on his face, to make yourself cum all over it, when usually he’s the one to usually make you cream all over his face.

and you thought your answer wouldn’t change. not for a while at least.

…well. about that.

you just felt so bad. he came back from work visibly under stress, his thick eyebrows set in a frown so deep they were almost touching.

he barely said anything to you, a clear sign that one wrong word could set him off, hence why he’s avoiding any conversation that could leas up to that.

he immediately locked himself up in the shower for a while, before he came back and went directly to your room, laying flatly on his back. his naked chest rose up and down in shallow and stressed sighs, face hidden in the elbow of his arm that he threw over his gorgeous face.

he just looked so…tense, you felt like you had to do something.

and so, before you knew it, you let your shorts and panties hit the floor, your (actually, cheol’s) shirt following next.

he was just laying there, deep in thought, that he didn’t ever hear you walk across the room, didn’t even pay too much attention to the mattress dipping under your weight as you crawled towards him.

it was only when you forcefully removed his arm from his face that he was ready to say something, mean things to snap at you just on the tip of his tongue immediately dying the moment he registered your nakedness.

at first, he was ready to decline your offer, ready to say that he wouldn’t be too gentle on you right now if you two decided to have sex, that he would use you rather than love you. and that is something he wouldn’t allow to happen, not with you.

but then.

instead of straddling his hips, you went ahead and put your other leg.

on the other side of his shoulder.

cheol just stares up at you, at your gorgeous body, an angle making him both salivate and his lips completely dry, your sweet pussy that he loved more than almost anything in this world hovering over his chin, so close yet so far away.

cheol followed the trail that is your body-your wetness right in front of his eyes, followed by your soft tummy, the curves of your waist connecting right into your chest where your soft and bouncy tits stood proudly, and lastly your visibly shy and nervous face.

he could feel himself panting already, ready to actually suffocate under your weight if you would so kindly let him. but despite his urges and needs, he waited. waited for you to make the first move.

waited for you to take control.

gulping one last time, in low and raspy voice you asked him one final question.

“still want me to sit on it, baby?”

and so here you were, head thrown back as the moans flew freely out of your mouth. almost like an instinct, like an animal, you were unconsciously grinding all over his face, your juices smeared all over his mouth, cheeks, and even nose. and yet, cheol just continued to lap on your pussy like a good boy that he was.

he was so so loud as well, you can’t honestly remember if you have ever heard him be so vocal, maybe even more vocal than you. his groans were bordering on animalistic ones, vibrations coming from his mouth traveling through your pussy, through your quivering tummy and shaky chest, all the way to your ears.

his big and strong arms were strongly wrapped around your thighs, locking them in place, so even if you wanted to move, cheol wouldn’t allow you to.

your hands were so indecisive, going from strongly holding onto the headboard, to leaning back on one, hand pressed into his chest that was tight from the lack of the air, while the other was holding onto his hair, pulling on it as you were grinding all over his beautiful face.

you peaked over your tits to look at his face, only to see his eyes closed in pleasure, eyebrows now furrowed in pure ecstasy instead of anger. you notice his eyes trying to open for a second, only for them to roll back into his head the moment you circle your hips again.

and the noises-god, it was so loud and nasty, it was all the more turn on.

you were just moving your hips, sometimes back and forth, properly grinding on his hungry lips, sometimes just making circular motions, smearing your precum all over his face.

which he seems to like so much, as every time you did it, you could feel his hips buckle upwards into the air and his moans travel through your pussy.

his tongue was splitting your lips apart before dipping inside your hole, collecting your sweetness on his tongue before swallowing it, the tip of his tongue then lapping at your clit for a second before doing it all over again. you swore, it almost looked like he was passionately making out, except it was with your pussy and not with you.

you were worried that you might be too heavy, that you were suffocating him, but that seems to be exactly what he wanted, as any time you tried to raise your hips a bit and let him breathe, he would just harshly pull you back down, a sound somewhere between disapproval and warning leaving him before he goes back to being a moaning mess.

it actually came so naturally to you- being in control. you weren’t even aware just how much control you had over him right at this moment. you were the one that set the pace, the one that used your hold on his hair to move his face in the direction that you wanted him to, the one who was a babbling mess, words like “such a good boy for me” and “fuck, just like that, baby, you do it so good” involuntarily leaving your mouth.

and cheol, just like a good boy you claimed he was, took whatever you gave him.

he was so lost in the pleasure, that he didn’t even notice just how close he was to cumming untouched until your hips started buckling out of control as well, moans getting breathier the closer you were getting to creaming all over his face.

before you knew it, you harshly pulled on his hair to push his face further into your pussy as you threw your head back, a loud scream escaping you as you reached your orgasm and came all over his face, your cum smearing all over his lips and chin as he tried to clean it all up, to swallow it, to lose himself in the pleasure for just a bit longer.

after you became sensitive, you recoiled away from his touch, finally being able to lift your hips away from his face and let him breathe again.

upon you lifting yourself up, cheol uses his newfound to take one deep breath, shakily filling his lungs with fresh air. he wasn’t even aware of just how oxygen deprived he was until he tried looking up at you only for everything to become very very blurry for him.

you two just stayed like that for a minute or so, both looking at each other as your chests were heaving.

and as you were looking at each other, a clear agreement was concluded between you two as you two were trying to come back to your sanities.

fuck, we are going back from this.

[000yul]

fun things about the IS6 trailer for "Jie Garden"

near the tail end of yesterday's 6th anniversary stream arknights dropped an IS6 promo trailer in the form of a retro promo ad for some place called the "jie garden" that turns out to be analog horror. it's pretty cool

watch it here (bilibili)

there's a number of funky (creepy) things that happen that are easy to miss - and i missed a bunch myself, so I decided to watch it again now and write down all the things i spotted/the bilibili comments pointed out

(first things first: the 'jie' in 'jie garden' isn't the same 'jie' as the dead sui sibling, but it's definitely punning on it. there is literally no way they're not referencing her.)

the video subtitle: "A thousand years ago a tianshi sought to live in seclusion, and therefore built this garden as a place to retreat from society."

however, the audio says 'coffin chamber' (mu4shi4 - 墓室) instead of retreat from society (bi4shi4 - 避世)

much more under the cut, bc this is a LONG post:

the sign in the pond is probably supposed to be something like "this pond is dangerous, please keep away" but with the censored text it reads "pond please come close" :)

"About three hundred years ago, after consultation with the tianshi's descendants, a section of Jie Garden was opened to the public, and over time, it has become a good place for the residents of Baizao to visit on their days off."

after the text gets censored, the last section becomes, simply: "a place for the residents of Baizao."

white (bunny?) silhouette appears here after a flash of white. hello!

this text - "do not touch" is mirrored. in other words, it's you, the viewer, behind the glass!

the chinese comments here remark on how the tickets to the garden (pictured) look awfully like the kind of paper money you burn as offerings to the dead

(also, when they read out that phone number, the text briefly changes to 80808-88808. no idea what this is supposed to imply though)

the video then changes to talking about 8 "do not do this" warnings that guests to the garden should avoid

spot the difference! on the sign on the bottom right, the text changes from "Deep water, keep a safe distance" to "Water, keep a safe distance" as a character vanishes

by "do not" number 3, the news byron on the bottom now just says "Today's weather " without talking about the weather at all (at the beginning of the video, it said "Today's weather: cloudy") people of baizao, you good?

6: "do not make a racket". screen goes black, and then it comes back weird

7: "don't damage the articles" (articles as in items/objects etc. - 器物) . except the character 器 is briefly replaced by 祭 before disappearing:

note that 祭物 means sacrifices. rip to this guy and his now mysteriously blacked out face

8: "do not trespass into restricted areas". only, some freak shit starts happening with the video - there's a quick blink-and-you-miss-it frame of a cemetery:

and, among other things, "do not trespass into restricted areas" transforms into " want town":

and then rapidly becomes "sui area":

love whatever's going on in the background here.

then a bunch of "sui" characters appears on screen:

and finally. jie. as in jie's name. it's her.

jie garden is jie's grave.

the end :)

[rizdoodles]

This bird is cooked 🦅🥏:

Here's how it goes in broad terms (I hope it's understandable, sorry if it isn't):

I'm sure that at some point, Jade noticed the subtly anxious look on Pépito’s face, as she didn’t dare tell him she was planning to leave the club.

He asked her if something was wrong. Lost in thought, Pépito looked uneasy. She said she wanted to tell him something but just couldn’t find the words.

To reassure her, Jade gently placed a hand on her shoulder and told her that no matter what, he wouldn’t blame her and would be there to listen.

Encouraged by his words, Pépito gathered her courage and admitted that she was planning to leave the Mountain Lovers Club to join the Magift Club. She immediately tried to defend herself, saying it was a stupid idea, that she didn’t want to leave him alone, and that it felt selfish of her.

Hearing this, something cracked inside Jade. He was genuinely saddened by the idea of her leaving the club, but he kept his composure and wore a calm, understanding expression, hiding his feelings behind it. Naive as she was, Pépito believed he was only moved by her honesty.

Jade told her that he didn’t want her to force herself to stay in a club where she wasn’t truly happy and that he’d rather see her have fun in the Magift Club, especially since she was pretty talented at it.

Those words instantly eased Pépito’s anxiety.

She beamed with joy, happy that he understood her, completely unaware of the pain it caused him deep down. To her, he was simply happy for her, her naivety keeping her from seeing the sadness stirring inside him.

As a thank-you, she gave him a hug, catching him off guard.

...

Later, Jade was in a bad mood, a little down, but he still had to attend his club's activities.

So, he left his room to go on the scheduled hike.

To his surprise, he found Pépito already waiting, dressed for the hike, carrying a backpack twice her size and holding a plant guidebook.

She pointed to a picture and said, "Look! That’s what you taught me!" [insert a random plant fact Jade had once told her, just to show she remembered everything, even if she had only half-listened at the time].

Jade let out a quiet laugh, realizing that about 40% of what she said was wrong, but he was genuinely touched that Pépito had tried so hard to impress him, even if deep down, it reflected a bit of misunderstanding.

Dude! That took so long! WOOOO sorry, I didn’t have time to draw it so I decided to write it instead😭

[a-calico-rabbit]

Hi! Sorry for using þis to ask a question—first i’ll say I had þe notion þat it was way easier to move around in þe rest of þe world, such þat it was normal for people to work in different countries from þe ones in which þey lived. I guess I was wrong. But besides þat, I have a different idea of þe why behind þe ego, and none of þe people I @ed to get þeir responses replied, so i’m putting it here. Sorry for þat. Anyway…

Mini-rant incoming; you have been warned. Any response telling me why or why not you þink þis is wrong is appreciated and appropriate:

Þe real, undeniable reason we’re so fucked (one of þem, at least) is þis:

We only have two parties, we’ve only had two parties since þe beginning, and þese two parties have been making moves to deeducate, disempower, disenfranchise, and socially isolate þe populace for ocer a century. And it’s seen everywhere. And it’s spreading out of þe USA too.

I’m not writing it all out, because I can’t, but everyþing wrong wiþ our country, wiþ little exception, can be boiled down to an us-vs-þem mentality. Everyþing, EVERYÞING in america is framed as a competiton wiþ a winner and a loser. Þat’s why we do it. Þat’s why when we talk about our problems, þey have to be þe worst. Þat’s why our achievements are þe best. Þat’s why liberals are “idiots” and conservatives are “ignorant”. Þat’s why we have to have þe last word and þat’s why we must be right. Because it’s not about þe facts. It’s about who’s won.

Take anyþing about America, anyþing at all. And frame it as a game, wiþ þe only rule being þat you can’t get caught. Þat þe winner is decided by popular vote, or by who’s left to laugh at þe loser’s grave. And It becomes so much easier to understand it all.

We’re taught to be hypercompetitive from þe moment we can talk. Our entire government, legal system, work, education, social life, everyþing. Everyþing is structured as a competition. Þat’s why. It’s not it, but it’s most of it.

It’s stupid and it’s bad. But it’s þe bitter truþ.

Rant over | additional points:

Anyway yeah, þe only countries I can þink of þat we share þis (or a similar to þis) trait wiþ are auþoritarian, so þis feels fairly logical as an explanation. Þere’s also þe fact þat our entire country is founded on þe slaughter of millions in a bid to “manifest our destiny” which I don’t know if we got from anoþer country besides Britain.

Anyway, if any of þese points are wrong or not unique, please bring up specific points about why not, so I can actually learn instead of just knowing þat i’m somehow wrong.

Þank you for reading þis, have a nice day.

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[aerithsfair]

langdon x mel jealousy headcanon that i need to write down cause it won’t leave my brain

it’s thursday, both mel and langdon have two hours left of their shift. it’s been relatively less hectic shift and they’re both looking forward to going home to enjoy taco night with becca when two gurneys roll in.

a fight broke out at a bar. one man, early thirties, has a broken nose, black eye and took a bottle to the cheek. the other has a dislocated shoulder and shards of glass lodged in his hand. they both jump at the chance to each take a patient. it’s only half way through langdon’s assessment with the second man involved when he hears laughter coming from the other room, and he’s instantly honed in. mel’s laugh has always had that affect on him.

she’s suturing up the last of the cuts on his eyebrow when he walks in (he doesn’t need to be there, really, but it’s been almost forty five minutes since the patient was brought in and the laughing hasn’t stopped.) dana is also in the room, typing away on the computer when she spots him leaning against the doorway. if he noticed her he doesn’t make it known, eyes instantly fixated on the other woman in the room (because it always is, dana thinks with an eyeroll).

the patient, ron, doesn’t even attempt to look at the man near the doorway, eyes locked on dr. king while she’s smiling at some cat joke he made.

“dr. langdon, how nice of you to join us.” dana says. it’s a tactic to avoid the very constricting tension she feels in the room right now. she hears ron hiss under his breath.

“i was just checking in, ” langdon replies, trance breaking. he looks down at his wrist to a watch he doesn’t have. “and to remind dr. king that her shift is almost over.” (it’s not his job.)

“thank you, dr. langdon.” mel replies with a gentle smile his way. “just finishing the last of the stitches…and ron, you should be good to go!”

“wow, dr. king.” ron says. he doesn’t break, eyes still focused on mel. pays no attention to the other doctor at the door when he says, “is there a way i can thank you? maybe over coffee—“ but mel’s phone goes off before she has a chance to stop anything, looking at the caller id before excusing herself to take the call. it’s only when they watch her walk out the room does the patient seem to notice dr. langdon’s presence.

“god,” ron huffs, slumping back down on the pillow. he looks up at langdon. “if fighting is what i have to do to end up back here with her..then damn….” langdon jaw tenses and dana thinks any more pressure will end up with him on one of these beds. the patient continues obliviously, “hey, man, do you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

dana lets out a scoff and instead of the last minute paper work she should definitely be doing, she continues to look at the screen, scrolling up and down on the same page and listens when frank, who tries to be polite, state “it’s, uh, unprofessional of me to give patients personal information regarding other staff.” there’s a pause, and then dana swears she hears a grin form on his face when he says softly “but, yeah, she is.”

“but it’s not serious right? i mean come on, i didn’t see a ring on that finger. what fucking idiot wouldn’t—“ langdon is too busy focused on being polite and professional and doing his best to not get fired again, but it just keeps going and going. ron asks to leave his number, if he can get a pen to write it down on anything or anywhere when mel walks in again, discharge papers in hand and wound care instructions. he tries again to ask her out for coffee which makes langdon snort so loud he has to hide it with a cough, but mel is a professional and simply replies that she doesn’t date her patients. but ron tries again, by asking if she has any time off this week to watch his band play just as friends. and it has langdon coughing up a storm trying to mask his laughter he has to exit the room.

dana has decided she has enough of the show and entertainment material to relay to perlah and princess tomorrow morning. she claps her hands to get everyone’s attention, “dr. king is a very busy woman who needs some sleep. so i’ll take over any further questions you may have, bud. starting with the healing process..” mel takes it as her cue to hastily exit out of the room.

langdon insists he’s fine when she comes over to ask if he’s okay. he reassures her but jokes about having competition. to which she replies that there isn’t any and that langdon’s jokes are way better. they hold hands as they walk down the hallway to clock out and only part when they have to go to the lockers.

he’s waiting for her by the exit that leads them through the crowded waiting area and into the front of the building when he notices her little admirer had stayed. they make eye contact just as mel bounces up next to him, “ready for taco night!?” she says excitedly and not like they didn’t just finish a twelve hour shift. he looks down at her, a goofy grin on plastered on his face and from his peripheral can see ron is just about to move towards them, when the arm that instinctively goes around her shoulder stops him. it’s been thirty minutes since his shift has ended and frank doesn’t have to be polite or professional anymore when he locks eyes with ron again, pulling mel closer and intertwining their fingers. he places a kiss to her forehead and smiles when ron sits back down in his chair, looking completely dumfounded.

[pensthoughts]

"you" | v.p

a/n: i saw an edit and one of the comments said something about a joe goldberg-like stalker van and then the new season of you came out so i felt like i was obligated to write this. hope u all enjoy 😚!! pairing: stalker adult!van x reader summary: van had no idea that simply memorizing her order in a coffee shop is what would drive her crazy. all of a sudden, all she can think about is you. word count: 2.8k

the day van first saw you was a day that she will never forget.

the rain had come out of nowhere, soaking through her jacket and leaving cold droplets to trail down her neck. she wasn’t supposed to be there, not really. just wandering aimlessly through the city streets, filling the space between one thought and the next. but when her gaze landed on you, standing behind the counter at that little shop, everything else faded.

you were effortlessly caught in the rhythm of the place, hands moving in practiced fluidity as you took orders, laughed softly with the customers. the soft glint of a necklace, barely visible beneath the collar of your shirt, caught van’s attention first, before the rest of you followed — the curve of your jaw, the gentle sway of your hair as you leaned forward. she stood just long enough to realize she couldn’t stop watching.

your smile as you handed the drink to the person ahead of her was so warm, so genuine. a laugh escaped the lips of the person you were talking to, and van couldn't help but feel the connection, as if it were meant to be. you didn’t look up again, but for a brief moment, the space between you felt charged. a sudden pull, something van wasn’t ready to understand but couldn’t ignore.

when it was her turn, van gave a quiet order, fingers tapping against the counter, still trying to hold back from staring too much. when the drink was handed over, a small brush of skin against skin sent something electric through her body, and she thought the world might collapse in on itself.

but it didn’t. instead, van sat at the table in the corner, drinking a matcha with slow sips, watching you like you were the most captivating thing she’d ever seen. the world outside the shop could’ve melted away, and she wouldn’t have cared.

days passed. van kept coming back, always at the same time, always finding a seat where she could see you behind the counter. at first, it was subtle, the memorization of your routines. your laugh. the tilt of your head when you spoke to people. the way your fingers wrapped around the handle of the milk steamer. it was all there, and every detail etched itself into van’s mind.

it was easy. too easy to make excuses — "just getting coffee," "just passing by," when, really, it was always about you. about seeing how long you would stand behind that counter. the way your eyes would meet hers across the room, just long enough to make her pulse quicken.

then, one day, it happened.

your eyes caught hers, and for the first time, the faintest recognition lingered there. you didn’t just see her as another customer; something more had passed between you.

“a matcha latte, oat milk, no sweetener, right?” you said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you placed the cup down in front of her. “you come here a lot. can’t forget your hair.”

something in the way you said that made her stomach twist with need, a possessiveness that she didn't even know was there. you saw her. you knew she existed. and that was all it took for her to decide that you were hers.

before van ever stepped foot in that cafe, before the first accidental “run-in” outside the shop, there had been a lot of other research. it wasn’t just about seeing you in passing, or remembering your drink order. it was about learning everything. your life. your routines. your every detail.

at first, it had been subtle, like any great plan. one afternoon, after the third or fourth time van had seen you behind the counter, she found your name. it wasn’t difficult; the small name tag you wore gave her all the information she needed. from there, it only took a few clicks. google. instagram. the usual suspects. your feed was public. not that you’d ever noticed her watching. van hadn’t even had to try hard. your social media profile painted a picture that was almost too perfect, too neat, too easy.

there were the posts about your trips — weekends away with friends at art shows, trips to parks, spontaneous adventures to places she knew you’d probably never return to. you’d shared enough photos of the same coffee shop you worked at, even a few candid selfies, laughing and smiling with your friends. van memorized the names of your closest ones — the ones who always commented on your photos, the ones who always liked your posts first. every comment was a clue, a piece of the puzzle, even if it was something small. your sister tagged you in posts on her feed; your friends wrote heartfelt birthday wishes.

she saw where you lived, too — a glimpse from an old photo, the backdrop of your apartment building visible behind your roommate's shoulder. the street was familiar, and van knew exactly where to find you. she even saw the little bar you’d visited on a rainy tuesday. it didn’t take much digging to realize you liked that spot a lot. you didn’t just visit places casually; you had routines, places you felt comfortable, places where you let your guard down. van could trace them all, like she was marking a map of your world.

and it wasn’t just the socials. she had learned the subtle details — when you worked, the hours you were most likely to be there, the time you took your lunch breaks. on a saturday, she could predict exactly where you’d be at any given moment. the way you always posted your workout at 6 am, always the same exact stretch, the same yoga pose.

even the days you shared photos of your morning coffee, the corner of your kitchen just so. she didn’t just see you. she watched you. every part of your day, every moment of your life, was catalogued in her mind.

van didn’t think about how this could make her seem… obsessive. this was just the process, the preparation. to be close to you, to truly know you, meant knowing everything.

this led to van finding herself standing outside of your favorite bar. van had never set foot in this bar before. she had no reason to—until now.

it had only taken one instagram story for her to know exactly where you’d be tonight. the photo you posted of the bar’s cozy, dim lighting, the empty stool beside you, the half-empty glass — it was like an invitation. she wasn’t going to waste it.

as she walked in, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air. there you were, exactly where she thought you’d be — alone, nursing a drink at the bar, your phone propped up beside you.

van paused for a beat, just long enough to make sure she wasn’t overstepping. then she slid into the stool next to you, her presence quiet but unmistakable.

you didn’t seem to notice her at first, too focused on scrolling through your phone. but then, without looking up, you spoke.

"van?"

van blinked, surprised. "how'd you—?"

you looked up almost immediately, eyes flickering toward her, recognition dawning. "your hair," you said smiling. "kinda hard to forget."

van's lips quirked into a grin. "i guess i'm a regular, then?"

you turned fully to face her, your eyes flicking over her features with a knowing smile. "you must be," you teased, "since i've been staring at your name on cups for so long."

van chuckled softly, her tone playful. “stalker,” she said with a light smirk, her gaze resting on you as she leaned in just a bit closer.

you raised an eyebrow, smiling. “i’m not the stalker,” you said, your voice amused. “i just remember things.”

van’s grin deepened, intrigued by your confidence. “good memory, huh?” she leaned in a little more, letting the silence between you two stretch. “i bet you’ve got a lot of interesting stories.”

you smiled back, eyes twinkling with mischief. “maybe. but i’m more interested in yours.”

there was a moment of silence between you two. you could feel the weight of it, the tension building in a way that felt almost too intimate for a first encounter. something about the way she sat so casually beside you, like she’d been there all along, made you feel like she was supposed to be there.

you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the odd feeling. “well, it’s a pretty chill place. it’s quiet. good vibe.”

van nodded, taking in the details of the bar, her gaze lingering just a little too long on you. “sounds like your kind of place.”

your fingers tapped idly on the edge of your glass. “i guess it is.”

van’s smile curled up again, just a hint of something darker beneath it. “i’ll have to come back more often, then.”

the conversation started to flow a bit easier later, the alcohol starting to take the edge off, making you feel a little looser, a little less guarded. you leaned back in your seat, taking in the low hum of the bar, the clink of glasses, the soft murmur of other people around. van didn’t seem to mind the quiet, though. she was still casually sipping her drink, letting the conversation hang between you two, comfortable in the silence.

“so,” you said, tipping your glass towards her, “what brings you here tonight? you don’t exactly look like the bar type.”

van chuckled softly, her lips curling at the corners. “i’m not really. just felt like getting out of the house for a bit, see if i could find somewhere new.”

you raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to really look at her. “huh. you don’t come here often, then?”

van’s eyes flicked to the bar’s walls, scanning the dimly lit space like she hadn’t noticed it until just now. “not yet. it’s nice though. i could see why people would like it.”

you shrugged, a little drunk now, but still aware of her quiet intensity. “it’s a good spot. it’s not too crowded, and it’s... well, it’s kind of my favorite place. i come here to unwind.”

“yeah?” van asked, eyes glancing at your glass, then back to you. “seems like the kind of place you’d like.”

“yeah,” you said again, nodding slowly. “i like the calm. the people here don’t bug me, you know?”

van’s smile was soft but there was a flicker in her eyes, like she was really paying attention. “i get that. sometimes it’s nice to just be left alone.”

“exactly,” you agreed, laughing a little, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. you leaned forward, suddenly more talkative than usual. “it’s just one of those places where you don’t have to try too hard. you just... show up, and it’s fine.”

van watched you for a moment, like she was trying to read something behind your words, but she didn’t press. instead, she took a slow sip of her drink, letting the moment hang.

“so, what do you do when you’re not... showing up to bars?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by the quiet mystery she seemed to carry.

“i do a little bit of everything,” van replied easily, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “i keep busy.”

you nodded, feeling your eyelids growing a bit heavy from the alcohol. “busy’s good. keeps you out of trouble.”

van’s lips twitched into a smile. “keeps you from getting bored, too.”

“you’re not a fan of boredom, huh?” you asked, your voice light but with a hint of playful teasing.

“i’d say i prefer keeping things interesting,” she said, her tone just enough to make you feel like there was more to that than just casual conversation.

you chuckled, the buzz in your head clouding your thoughts a little. “yeah, me too. i guess that’s why i end up in places like this. keeps things interesting.”

van nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving you. “yeah, places like this are good for that.”

a comfortable silence fell between you for a moment, just the two of you sharing the same space, both a little tipsy, neither really knowing where to go from here.

you shifted in your seat, feeling a little more self-conscious now, but the alcohol kept you from backing off completely. “so... do you come here often?” you asked again, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

van’s smile was quick, almost amused. “i think i might now,” she said, her voice smooth, but there was something in the way she said it that felt too certain for someone who’d never been here before.

you blinked, then laughed, unsure why it felt so off. “well, if you’re gonna keep coming here, i guess i’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

van’s smile didn’t fade. “i wouldn’t mind that.”

a few more drinks later, the world feels a little looser, a little easier. you’ve had just enough to feel tipsy, but not too much to make you forget the way van’s eyes follow you, the way her smile lingers just a second too long.

“alright,” you finally sigh, feeling the buzz settling in. “i should probably get going. don’t want to stay out too late.”

van’s head tilts slightly, as if she’s considering something. “need some company?” she asks, voice low, teasing.

you blink at her, surprised but not exactly opposed to the idea. “you offering?”

van stands up slowly, offering her hand to help you out of your seat. “yeah, actually. thought i’d walk you home. it’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

you raise an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “oh? and you’re the protector type now?”

van’s smirk widens, her hand lingering near yours. “just making sure you get home in one piece.”

with a slight shrug, you take her hand, letting her help you stand. your mind spins a little as you follow her out of the bar, the cold air hitting you as soon as you step outside. it’s a good kind of dizzy, the kind that comes with too many drinks and someone’s attention you didn’t expect.

the walk back is quiet at first, save for the occasional street noise in the distance. you’re a little tipsy, but the way van walks beside you, her presence close, makes you feel oddly safe. your pace slows slightly as you walk along the familiar streets, the city lights casting soft shadows around you both.

“so,” you start, your voice light and a bit playful, “tell me more about you, van. how’d you end up in my café anyway? what’s your deal?”

van looks over at you, the grin still present, but there’s a warmth in her gaze. “guess i could ask you the same thing,” she says, her voice teasing but thoughtful. “how’d you end up behind that counter, pouring coffee for a living?”

you laugh, swaying a little, and she steadies you with a hand on your arm. “hey, easy there. i’m just asking,” she says softly. then, after a beat, “i like watching you work. you’re good at it.”

the compliment is casual, but something about the way she says it, the way her gaze lingers like she's memorizing you, makes your stomach flutter. you bite your lip, half hoping she doesn't notice how fast your heart's beating.

“i don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you mutter, feeling suddenly shy.

van shrugs, still keeping a playful distance. “nothing, really. just thought i’d let you know.”

you glance over at her, your words slurring slightly. “you’re a little too smooth for your own good, you know that?”

van chuckles, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel like she’s not just being casual. it’s in the way she looks at you, the way her hand brushes against yours as you walk.

you try to focus, trying not to lose yourself in the sudden tension that’s thickening between you. “you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

van’s smile falters for a moment, and she slows her pace. “maybe i’m just enjoying the view.”

your pulse quickens at her words, and before you can say anything else, you find yourself outside your apartment building. the buzz of alcohol in your system dulls, and reality sinks in — this is where you part ways.

you stop at the entrance, unsure of how to end the night. the air is cool, and the city hums softly behind you both.

“well, this is me,” you say, suddenly feeling a little too sober. “thanks for walking me back.”

van takes a step closer, her voice low. “anytime.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the silence between you feels charged, like the world is holding its breath.

then, almost as if on impulse, you lean forward, brushing your lips against her cheek in a brief, teasing kiss.

van’s breath catches, and she stays still, letting you pull away. a small smirk tugs at her lips. “i’ll see you around, then.”

you nod, stepping back toward the door. “yeah. see you.”

as you disappear inside, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over. and for some reason, that thought excites you more than you’d like to admit.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey, @crainalley0227, @auroraseddie, @brielease

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

Here is an idea for a GF fic that my friend and I came up with which I'm not sure I'm gonna do anything with.

***

Ford calls his mom shortly before a family reunion that he's not sure about attending (given that he usually doesn't). Caryn joyfully tells him that Stan, who no one's really heard from in a while, is also gonna be coming for the first time since he was kicked out. And Ford is... well, he doesn't know how to feel about it. If anything, he is surprised. The first time Stan didn't try reaching out on their birthday and then on other family holidays, he kinda saw it as confirmation that heis brother really didn't want to come back and apologize. Family reunions never felt the same afterwards, so Ford just stopped coming. Now though... well, it's just strange and very unexpected. But a small part of him that he desperately tries to push down is hopeful that maybe Stan will finally apologize and perhaps they will at least be on speaking terms again.

So, against better judgement, Ford does go. And Stan is there, just like his mom said he would be. He seems to be doing well for himself, just like Ford thought he would, exuding confidence and chatting with people. What's strange is that their father is one of those people. Because Stan has never been so calm when speaking to him, and it's unbelievable to see, especially after all that has happened. Their father seems to have picked up on the confidence, something that he's always wanted his sons to exhibit, so maybe that, along with how well off Stan seems to be, may explain his change of attitude. Stan, however...

Eventually, Ford finally talks to him. It starts with an apology, a surprisingly straightforward one too: no averted eyes or nervous hand movements, no hasty explanations or excuses. In a way, that's all Ford has wanted: a straightforward genuine apology, an admission of guilt. But somehow that also feels entirely wrong, like someone playing the part of his brother in a play, doing it well, but only as well as someone reading from a script could. That's when Ford gets the creeping thought that whatever's in front of him is something that's pretending to be his brother.

Of course, at first he tries to write it off as just him being paranoid, especially seeing how the rest of the family doesn't seem to think anything's off. And, after all, it has almost been ten years. But the more he watches, the more he notices the numerous small inconsistencies, like all the mannerisms he clearly remembers from years ago being completely gone.

At last, Ford can't bear it anymore, so he decides to use something that is extremely personal (and painful) to both of them: their childhood dream. He casually comes up to Stan and starts a conversation. Eventually, Ford brings it up and Stan's reaction is something along the lines of "Well, that was just stupid, wasn't it? I mean, it's a childish dream, something we did to pass the time, but it could never work. Sometimes you just have to outgrow things like that, you know. I wish I had just done it sooner, rather than later". And it's so utterly wrong it's straight up uncanny. Like, of course, Ford did choose to pursue his own aspirations instead. Maybe Stan could find other things to do too, that's believable. But this doesn't mean the dream no longer matters, and for Stan out of all the people to talk about it like it doesn't and hasn't ever...

So, right then and there, Ford decides that, whoever he is talking to is not his brother. And thus he sets out on a mission to find out whatever happened and, most importantly, where Stanley actually is.

***

Or alternatively, Stan somehow stumbles upon some sort of mind reading supernatural creatures who pretty much push him to make a wish. That wish is kinda contradictory in itself, more so two of his deep wants combined: Stan wants his family to accept him and love him again, but he also wants to stop being himself, Stanley Pines, the homeless grifter and the screw up.

The solution to this problem is: a sort of magical clone of Stan is created, which is designed to, while mainly relying on Stan's own memories, act in a way that will make the people he cares about like him. Overtime, the copy will correct its mistakes and become more and more like the real thing, and Stan will forget who he is, which would free him of all his regrets and let him begin life anew.

The flaw with all of that? Stan severely underestimated how much his twin actually cares and how much he's willing to do for him.

***

I have no idea how this would actually go or work and neither does my friend. A rescue mission, a lot of upsetting realizations, that's for sure. Anyway, I like this idea too much to just let it quietly perish in our imaginations. So I'm putting it into yours too lol

[haruslia]

HAIII can I please order some cookies and cream cat shaped cupcakes along with some sweetened black coffee? Thank youu !🥹🥹

𝜗𝜚 ─ ORDER ⊹ 001 𓂃 cookies n cream cat shaped cupcake

⊹ famous picks ₊ ◡◡ sweetened black coffee

𝜗𝜚 ────STUBBORNNESS = FEVER warnings ⊹ hurt with comfort, haruka having a hard time opening up and refusing to let [name] take care of him, light angst(?), established relationship, guilty! [name], gender neutral. both second and third point of view. this is so rushed omg, i’m sorry loves 🥹 i was half asleep while writing this + i wasn’t really having the motivation but I don’t wanna keep you guys waiting! and I got lost while writing this so I just decided to add a little bit of a comedy 🥹

𝜗𝜚 ──── DING, DING, A MESSAGE! hello, thank you for ordering! hope you enjoyed your time and the food, if you need anything just ring the bell! don’t forget to leave a tip! it will be very appreciated! much love, come back soon! and biggest thanks to our miss. misumine for editing the banner!

the apartment was eerily quiet, well it was expected since HARUKA lives alone but it looks like that no one has been living on it. crack walls, windows, mold growing on the walls, the sink was a bit dirty and there’s not much of a furnitures.

[name] have gotten a message from akihiko saying that their boyfriend— HARUKA, got a cold and a sinking feeling was on [name]’s stomach as if their heart drop at the fact that THEY’RE the reason why he’s at such a vulnerable state.

it was yesterday when you and HARUKA went on a stroll through Makochi when it started raining heavily, having nothing to cover yourself the two of you decided to go to a shop and took cover there.

both of you were soaked in the rain but HARUKA was drenched like a wet cat since he covered you with his jacket even though you resisted the offer but he was being stubborn as always and just shoved you with his jacket. leaving him shivering and drenched in the cold weather.

[name] scolded him for being reckless that he’s gonna get a cold and insisted that he wore the jacket instead since he clearly needs it more but HARUKA was just so stubborn, he kept resisting about the fact of wearing the jacket while [name] was soaked as if he wasn’t too at all.

And here they are, [name] standing outside of his apartment with bags in hand, they made him some porridge as well as bringing some tissues and cough drops just in case.

you slid the broken door open only to be met with darkness, it was empty barely felt alive as you stepped in. noticing that it lacked the proper furniture, no tv, no table, no refrigerator, nothing. the pit in your stomach only got worse as you made your way to his room and you can see HARUKA’s figure laying on a futon, a duvet enveloping him.

you started walking towards him, footsteps light and cautious not wanting to startle him as you settled down everything. [name] noticed that there were also two white bags sitting on the corner and some medicines, a smile forming on their face at the fact that his friends cared for him.

HARUKA seemingly sensing a presence, immediately woke up to see who it is if one of his friends broke into his house. assuming that it would be either akihiko and hayato.

“oi, what are you guys doing back here again? I swear to god if you guys bought something I will-”

he didn’t finish his sentence when your figure came to his view, that familiar face laced with worries and those same [e. color] staring right through his mismatched ones made his breath hitch in his throat.

he didn’t expect you to visit, he thought that you wouldn’t face him after he had pushed you away yesterday yet here you are. Because of his stunned state he didn’t even register your hand coming in contact with his feverish skin but when it did he hissed on the feeling.

“your temperature is still a bit high.”

you stated in a matter-of-fact tone as you pulled your hand away from his forehead, there was a snot on his nose yet he still managed to look cute. you took out the tissues from the bag before gently wiping off the snot in which received a whine from your lover.

“hey, what are you doing here-”

he questioned, he really doesn’t get why you’re here but the fact you’re taking care of him is embarrassing as he tried to push you off him, trying to swat your hand away from his nose.

“stop that—m’not a child.”

he exclaimed as he pushed you off, laying back into his futon as you looked at him with a concerned yet annoyed expression, there he goes again! pushing you away when all you wanted to do is take care of him.

“haru, love. your temperature is still high and you still have a bad fever.”

you tried to reason with him but all you received was a string of “m’fine” “I can take care of myself.” “it’s no big deal” which annoys you to the extent but you tried to keep yourself calm and composed, you grabbed his shoulder just enough to make him look at you earning a groan from the dual toned man.

“Haruka, let me take care of you, I’m the reason why you’re having a fever anyway.”

HARUKA can only look at you with disbelief before he sees you taking out some porridge, the thought of you being guilty about the fact that he got a cold because he had lent you his jacket other than wearing it made his heart sink, a knot forming in his stomach.

he grabbed your hand in his shaking (n blushing) ones before looking away, cheeks flushed this time it isn’t the fever but the fact that he still gets embarrassed on comforting people, he muttered something underneath his breath barely inaudible.

“. .You’re not the reason why I’m sick, you know. . it’s better that I’m the one who got sick and not you because you cry whenever you’re sick.”

the last sentence made a vein pop in your neck before you smacked his head, earning a loud groan from him as he faces you with an angry expression

“what was that for!?”

he yelled as he rubbed the spot where you had smacked him as you crossed your arms, huffing underneath your breath. “I don’t cry whenever I’m sick.” “you did when I came to visit!” “it was because my body hurts, okay!?” “whatever, you still cried”

The two of you argued before you let out a giggle underneath your breath, laughing softly while HARUKA looked at you with adoration but then you stopped for a minute to look at him with a smile on your face before you took out a porridge and HARUKA’s face contorted into one with disgust at the sight of the small bits of carrots and other vegetables.

“I am not eating that!”

He yelled as he backed away from you, from the porridge in your hand to be precise looking at it like its his biggest enemy but you can only sigh.

“you need to eat it if you wanna feel better.” “oh hell no! I can smell at least thirteen carrots!” “you have a runny nose and you possibly can’t smell anything, genius.” “shut up!”

[name] grabbed a spoon from the bag and took a scoop of the porridge, blowing on it before bringing it on HARUKA’s mouth who refused to eat it. “[name], put that thing away!” you just smiled at him mischievously before bringing it closer to his mouth.

“say ahh~”

© HARUSLIA ⊹ our orders aren’t made to be plagiarized, copied, stolen, translated, reposted and displayed in another café.

[puriiinz]

POSTED | smau abby a.

VI; ROLY-POLY

a/n: i only had the time to write this out bc they closed the schools after an earthquake 😭😭😭

contains: yn being kinda insecure? meds mentioned once, mental health mentioned with a slight joke, cursing and dumb bitches leading eachother

masterlist | next

yn woke up in the least flattering way possible; face smushed up, drooling on her pillow and an ache in her neck that made her wonder if sleeping was even worth it. blinking a few times to get used to the light coming in through the blinds, yn reached for her phone on instinct.

the notification staring right back at her, as if it was daring her to even think about reacting, made her want to turn back time and never wake up. freezing after realizing what it was saying and who it was from yn sat up and read it again.

and again.

and a few times more.

and then she threw her phone down on the bed because she couldn't scream (her neighbors would kill her).

it literally didn't even mean anything. abby always tweeted absurd and cryptic stuff. she was the type to make a post about someone instead of subtweeting, then acting like she wasn't shading anyone. it was just abby.

but abby being 'just abby' wasn't apparently enough for yn, because she went back and read abby's tweet for the nth time. no one's name was there, but yn's name wasn't there either. nothing and nobody was tagged except for her stupid hashtag that she loved to use when she wanted to stir something up. it was vague, open ended.

but it was the timing that made yn suspicious.

no. nope. yn wasn't doing this. she was NOT letting fucking abby anderson live in her brain, especially before even having breakfast. she was stronger than that.

maybe not really though...

the second yn opened her front door to take the trash out, she nearly walked straight into ellie's big ass head.

again.

"what the fuck." yn said, stepping back.

dina just smiled sweetly, holding up a bag of muffins from yn's favorite bakery. this only meant one thing: they were plotting something and needed yn to think critically (and not get angry).

"we come bearing gifts!"

"and questions," ellie added. "mainly questions."

yn sighed but let them in, deciding to be a good friend (she wanted muffins) and she didn't want to be alone, just to think about abby fucking anderson all day. especially not about her smile. and that day when she got too close to yn on the couch. no.

"so," ellie started, plopping down onto yn's couch and looking at her phone for a second before locking it. "you saw abby's tweet, i assume?"

yn tilted her head "why would you assume that?"

ellie rolled her eyes. "because! did you see it or no?"

"what tweet are you talking about? did she manage to get cancelled because of her eating habits or something?" trying to play it cool, yn tried her best to look and sound confused.

"the one saying 'some blah blah so cute blah blah when confused'. ring a bell?" ellie asked while melting into the couch.

"yeah because half of your sentence being 'blah blah' really helped me." yn sighed, "but yes. i saw it," yn said reluctantly. "it's vague."

"sadly, you're right." dina said. "that's why we're here," sitting next to ellie and sliding a muffin towards yn she added, "we're going to figure out who it's about."

yn nearly choked on air. "can i ask why i, fuck, even you would ever do that?"

"oh my sweet baby shnookums... because we're nosy, remember?" ellie said proudly. "and abby never tweets shit like that, like she was mental hospital level insane, so i can confirm she doesn't like life that much, let alone appreciate it. she tweets about needing to shit or something."

"so? people can change, you know?" yn tilted her head.

ellie put her hand on yn's shoulder, shaking her head sadly, "she's on meds baby..."

yn just stared at ellie with her mouth open.

"so," clapping her hands, "who do we think it is?" dina asked, already opening her notes app like she was doing something completely logical and serious.

yn stayed quiet, hoping they'd jump to her first, for god knows why. she didn't even like abby.

they did not.

"what about mel?" ellie offered. "she's kinda dumb, no?"

dina hummed. "maybe... but i don't think abby even talks to mel that much. also, doesn't mel have like, a whole ass kid now? don't think abby's into that."

ellie sighed, "you're right."

"what about maya from the gym?" dina wondered.

yn blinked. "maya?"

"she's super hot." ellie exclaimed. "and she definitely has a dumb little sister energy."

"the sister part wasn't necessary..." yn mumbled.

"pretty sure she almost walked into a pull door twice last week," dina added. "that must be abby's type, right?"

yn was beginning to regret letting them in.

"i don't think it's maya," yn muttered..

dina looked at yn with a glint in her eyes. "you got another suspect?" making yn shrug, trying to seem chill. "just saying... it might not even be someone we know."

"or maybe," ellie leaned forward, trying to look intimidating. "it is someone we know and abby's just being sneaky about it." taking a bite out of her muffin, ellie leaned back. "like maybe it's me."

"you?" yn echoed.

"i don't know, i'm cute?"

"you also think there are six continents..."

"exactly! clueless and cute!" ellie grinned, pointing at herself.

"i don't- whatever. i'm still on the maya train, " dina said, staring at her phone like it was supposed to answer her questions. "abby said she was helping her with her like, squat form or something last week. that feels suspicious. also tense."

yn was starting to wonder if, maybe, she was the delusional one. had she completely misread everything? the tweets? the grocery store mishap? the way abby leaned into her? was she desperate for love? pfft. no way.

maybe it was maya. or mel. or ellie with her dumb continent takes.

maybe abby was like that with everyone. maybe yn had just misunderstood because of abby. not because she was desperate, or egoistic.

"okay!" ellie said, standing like she was about to give a powerpoint. "we need to find out who she's talking about. and we can't just ask her because she would just lie. so, we need to catch her off guard. set a trap, perhaps."

"a trap?" yn asked.

"yes," dina said with full confidence. "you'll-"

yn looked like dina had admitted to committing war crimes. "wait. me?"

dina narrowed her eyes at yn, daring her to object. "yes, you. as i was saying... you'll talk to her. casually. and slip in a question like 'oh, haha! so funny. anyway who were you tweeting about?' and then bam! read her face."

"that's literally just asking her." yn stared at dina.

"it's not."

"also- how am i supposed to know who she's talking about by reading her face? will the persons name get spelled out on her face or something?"

dina rolled her eyes. "can you just... i don't know, interrogate her?"

yn stared at them with confused eyes. "you want me to interrogate her?"

"it's not an interrogation," ellie said. "it's... journalism."

"derective work," dina corrected. "consider it for charity, but for two people... and you i guess."

yn buried her face in her hands. "i hate you both."

"you'll thank us when you're her maid of honor." ellie sing-songed.

yn threw a wet wipe at her head.

[setmeatopthepyre]

Bucktommy and sharing a dessert 🩷

(@ambernotember)

I know I sent you a tidbit of something that was going to be for this prompt fill but I decided to use that for something else so here is something completely different! oops another au. went for strangers on the road from this poll though if I ever end up writing more I may add the other winner too. I've been yelling at @trombonechurchill about my desire to write something medieval-ish ever since I saw this gorgeous artwork by @chimneyz, though also very much based on my own fencing experience and desire to write homoerotic swordfighting. of which there is tragically none in this ficlet. but it's the thought that counts. gonna call this sweetmeats au just in case I decide to return to it

-

sharing a dessert [bucktommy | 620 words]

The young knight has the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up, tendons shifting in strong forearms as he pokes and prods at the coals of the fire, getting them to spread evenly.

“You’re planning to cook?” Tommy inquires, his resolution to only engage in conversation for the sake of acquiring news quickly forgotten. Sure, the man doesn’t appear to be traveling particularly light, but neither has Tommy spotted any fresh game on him that would require preparation.

Blue eyes blink up at him, contrasted by bright splashes of pink high on the man’s cheeks from the fire’s heat. It’s a very pleasing look on him. Tommy decides he won’t notice such things going forward.

He fails at that, too, when the knight smiles at him, cheeks dimpling sweetly.

“Not cook, exactly, but I have some hand pies that taste much better warmed. Would you want one?” With that, he produces a bundle from the satchel behind him and unwraps the waxed cloth, showing Tommy its contents: flaky dough brushed generously with egg wash, shining and golden and crisp despite their time packed away. Not the pies one buys at the riverside market, where the dough is just a necessary vessel for the often questionable filling. These were made with care in a home. They look much, much better than the dried provisions Tommy plans to fill his stomach with, the hard bread that he needs to moisten to be able to eat. And here he’d thought his meal would be a luxury since he had wine to wash it down with tonight.

“A kind offer, but unnecessary,” he wills himself to say. There’s no need to be indebted to this stranger if he can help it.

For his part, the knight just glances up at him a moment, then continues on, undeterred. “I have herbelades, as well as sweet pies with apple, if you rather not eat pork,” he says, tilting the wax cloth so that Tommy can better see. “I, uh, made those myself,” he adds as if embarrassed. “I learned it in my lord’s kitchens so I wouldn’t have to go without.”

“You baked these?” Tommy finds himself asking. It’s a disarmingly charming thought, this knight begging his way into some lord or inn’s kitchen to bake sweet apple pastries to eat on his travels. Tommy wonders, not for the first time, who this man’s patron is, what lord would provide for his knights to spend their free time baking in kitchens instead of inflicting their boredom on the local peasantry.

“I did,” the knight confirms. He doesn’t insist Tommy take one or even repeat the offer, but he places three hand pies on the stones by the fire: one of the herbelades, and two of the apple, the dough yellow with saffron and smelling sweetly of cinnamon and cloves and ginger. The scent makes Tommy’s mouth water, his stomach audibly interested, and the knight grins up at him from his place by the fire. “It won’t be but a moment,” he says knowingly.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Tommy tries, but he can hear how unconvincing he sounds. He’s always had a weakness for sweets - and for men with even sweeter smiles.

“I insist,” the knight says, and Tommy is unable to argue, is left only to wonder at this strange young knight, traveling alone with satchels laden with pastries that smell like heaven. If Tommy were the kind of man to believe in the fantastical tales the old ladies tell, he would be afraid this man was one of the fair folk come to lure him into the woods with the promise of sweet treats for eternity. Thankfully, he isn’t, and Tommy knows these woods better than anyone.

-

thank you @ambernotember <3

[popcornforone]

ARE YOU NOT EDUCATED?!

A Mr Ben Fan Fic (with some surprises)

At the time of writing this after creating & editing a first draft of this fic, it’s just gone past midnight into Monday 24th March. The last week we were spoilt for Pedro content & when we get our man looking that good for so many days it’s hard to stop the creative juices going. So yesterday after I posted something on Saturday which took off, I decided to write a fic about it, & well once again Mr Ben is our suffering man for this.

Synopsis:- after the release of Gladiator 2 it’s all the kids at school can talk about so Ben asks you to come & sit in on one of his enthusiastic classes

Word count:- 8200

Warnings:-DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Oral sex 69, size mentioned, lots of innuendo, swearing, colleagues to lovers, unrequited love, age gap, alluding to more sex, teasing, fantasy’s, role play.

Thanks as always for stopping by & having a read peoples. It’s always really appreciated that you read these. Yea I know I was meant to slow down with the fics but I just can’t stop writing at the moment.

Monday second period, your free lesson, no kids, no interruptions, time to play catch up. You were halfway through grading a stack of essays when a familiar, slightly exasperated voice broke your concentration.

“Please tell me you’re free third period on Wednesday.” You glanced up from your desk to see Mr. Ben standing in your doorway, leaning against the frame with the world-weary look of a man who had just fought a long & exhausting battle except, instead of a battlefield, it was probably the high school hallway. His dark curls were slightly disheveled, & he was gripping his flask probably filled with strong coffee like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Uh…” You hesitated, already sensing whatever he was about to ask would be a lot. “Why?”

He sighed & stepped fully into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need another teacher to monitor my lesson because my students have lost their minds. Every single one of them has apparently watched Gladiator 2 this weekend at the cinema, which, by the way, they are not old enough to see they are underage, & now they’re convinced they’re living in ancient Rome.”

You bite back a laugh. “Oh no.” You hadn’t had this issue yet, maybe your students knew to not bring it up with you. Where as they all see Ben as a much more fun teacher who would have probably seen the film this weekend. He had, you’d actually gone with him & a couple of other friends as a large group to see it. You did sit next to Ben & share popcorn with him while you fawned over Paul & Pedro on the big screen.

“Oh yes,” he said, dropping dramatically into the chair across from your desk. “I tried to start a lesson on the fall of the Republic, thinking it would at least make them read, & one of them actually stood up and shouted, ‘The Senate is corrupt!’”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. “That’s… impressive?”

“It’s insufferable.” He gestured vaguely, looking at you like he was already regretting every life choice that had led him here. “They keep calling me ‘General,’ they refuse to sit unless it’s in some kind of weird, dramatic gladiator pose, & one kid actually tried to fight another kid with a ruler because he said he ‘had to earn his freedom.’”

At that, you couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “Okay, yeah. That’s a disaster.”

“Exactly!” He pointed at you like you finally got it. “So now I need backup. Someone to keep them from forming an actual underground fighting ring while I try to salvage my lesson.” He tilted his head slightly, giving you an exaggerated pleading look. “Please? For the good of the Republic?” Those eyes love to be big & pleading. So brown. So smouldering.

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Ben let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank you. You are a true ally to Rome.” He winked.

You smirked. “Just promise me you’re not going to encourage them.” There was a pause. A very suspicious pause.

“…Define ‘encourage.’”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Ben.”

He stood there with a sheepish look, already backing toward the door. “See you Wednesday!” With his coffee in hand he made his exit, leaving you with the distinct feeling that whatever was about to happen in his classroom later this week was going to be absolutely unhinged.

You weren’t trying to look nice today. Not exactly. It’s just that… well, if you were going to spend a whole period sitting in the back of Ben’s classroom, watching him flail through whatever chaos his students had planned, there was no harm in making sure you looked presentable. So what if you spent an extra few minutes on your hair? Or picked a shirt that you knew looked good on you? That was just… professionalism. Totally normal. Absolutely not because of the way Mr. Ben somehow managed to make a button-down & rolled-up sleeves look ridiculously attractive every single day.

Nope. Not at all.

By the time third period rolled around, you were a nervous ball of energy for lots of reasons. You were already seated at the back of his classroom, casually checking your phone as you waited for him to arrive. The desks were empty for now, but you could practically feel the energy that was about to hit. Those kids were going to walk in like they were entering the Colosseum, & you were just here to keep them from actually killing each other & help Ben out in anyway you could.

Then, the door opened. In walked Ben. In a tunic!

Not just any tunic, a white Roman-style tunic with a fitted waist, draped fabric, & a damn leather strap slung over one shoulder like he’d just stepped off the set of the movie. Like he was actually Pedro Pascal.

Your brain short-circuited. He was still wearing his usual work shoes, & he had a coffee in one hand, but somehow, he still looked like he belonged on an ancient battlefield instead of a public high school classroom. Your fingers tightened around your phone as you stared, way too hard, at the ridiculous yet unfairly good-looking sight in front of you. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Ben, completely oblivious to the effect he was having, blew out a breath & ran a hand through his dark curls. “Okay, before you say anything, just know that I tried to resist.”

You blinked, mouth slightly open. “Resist… what, exactly?”

He motioned vaguely at himself. “This. The whole… outfit.” Your brain was still buffering. “But then,” he continued, sighing dramatically, “I realized that if I don’t lean into it, they’re just going to push harder. So, I figured, fine. Let’s embrace the chaos. If they want a gladiator, I’ll give them a gladiator.”

Oh, you were so in trouble. You’ve had a thing for Ben for a while but this was now unlocking a fantasy you didn’t know you had. The white tunic, the knees on display, his hair all messy. It was going to make you a hot mess especially if he was going to use his strict teacher voice at the kids, that always made something brew inside your loins.

You swallowed, forcing your voice to stay even. “Uh-huh. & you think this is going to help?” Ben shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee like he wasn’t currently dressed like every history nerd’s fantasy.

“Honestly? I have no idea. But if we’re going down, we’re going down in style.”

You nodded slowly, crossing your legs to keep yourself from fidgeting. “Right. Totally. Very… strategic of you.”

He shot you a grin. “Glad you think so. You ready?”

Absolutely not. But before you could respond, the first wave of students started trickling in, & as soon as they saw him, all hell broke loose.

“GENERAL BENEDICTUS HAS ARRIVED!” One of them screeched, the madness began.

Ben barely had time to set his coffee down before the classroom erupted into full-blown hysteria.

“GENERAL BENEDICTUS HAS ARRIVED! Roma! Roma! Roma!”

Half the class immediately slammed their fists over their hearts in some kind of dramatic salute, while the other half started chanting. Ben sighed, rubbing his temples like a man who had seen too much.

“Guys, we talked about this. No cult-like behavior before noon.”

You, meanwhile, were still recovering from the sheer visual impact of him in that tunic, so you barely managed to stifle a laugh. A group of students suddenly realised you were there. Your little chuckle instantly recognisable. A few whispers started going around.

“Miss is in awe of your presence, General,” one of them announced solemnly.

You immediately choked on air. “That is not what’s happening, I’m merely here to observe” not that any child really paid attention to that statement. Neither did Ben, the absolute menace, he grinned as he addressed you staying in character.

“You hear that? You’re in awe.”

You shot him a sharp look, refusing to acknowledge the warmth creeping up your neck. “I’m in awe of how you still have a job.” That only made him laugh as he reached for his glasses, sliding them on in one smooth motion before ruffling his curls, because apparently, he needed to make this harder for you. Those thick frames make you feel so unnecessary. You swore he did it just to be annoying. Or worse, just to test you. Because now, with the slightly messy hair & those glasses slipping down his nose, he looked less like a ridiculous history teacher playing dress-up & more like some unfairly attractive historian who had just come back from excavating Pompeii. It was too much. You needed help. You needed divine intervention. You needed to not think about attractive mr ben is normally let alone right now.

But instead, you’ve got a classroom of unruly students, whispering like this was some kind of romance subplot in their imaginary Roman drama.

One kid leaned over to another and muttered, “The Empress is struggling to contain her feelings.”

Ben clapped his hands together. “Alright, that’s enough. Everyone focus, it’s time to learn.” Damn that strict voice made the heat rise even more.

Silence. Blank stares. One kid yawned. Another pulled out their phone. Ben sighed. “Oh, so now you’re quiet?”

One of the students shrugged. “It’s just, you know… we were expecting something a little more…” He gestured vaguely. “Inspirational.”

Ben arched an eyebrow. “You want inspiration?���

“Yeah! Like, something that moves us. Like Maximus or Lucius did.”

A slow, devious smirk crept across Ben’s face. without warning, he turned, swept his arm dramatically across the room & launched into a deep, commanding voice:

“What we do in life… echoes in eternity.”

You are trying so hard to play a poker face but it’s failing. This is not good for your own imagination.

The class lost their minds. Gasps. Cheering. Someone actually stood up & yelled, “HONOUR TO GENERAL BENEDICTUS!”

You? You just sat there, gripping your chair so tightly your knuckles went white, because of course the one time you had to monitor his class was the day he decided to be the most attractive man on Earth. Ben had no idea of the effect he was having on you.

The classroom was buzzing. The students were practically vibrating with excitement, fully buying into whatever delusions of grandeur General Benedictus had inflicted upon them. Ben, clearly thriving on the attention, paced at the front of the room like he was about to lead an army into battle. You, meanwhile, were still trying to recover from that damn what we do in life echoes in eternity moment. You were not recovering well.

“Alright, soldiers of Rome,” Ben called out, clapping his hands together. “Since you all think you’re gladiators now, let’s see if you’ve actually learned anything.”

Once again Silence. The students, so loud just a second ago, suddenly looked anywhere but at him, textbook signs of kids who definitely didn’t do the assigned reading. Ben let out a long, dramatic sigh. Then, with a slow turn & a sharp flick of his wrist, he pointed straight at them.

“ARE YOU NOT EDUCATED?”

The students erupted in laughter. Someone pounded their desk. Another kid actually fell out of their chair. This was the most chaotic & most engaged you had ever seen a class.

But You on the inside, You were so done.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. Ben just smirked. Smirked! Like he knew exactly what he was doing & was loving every second of it. If he wanted to be that dramatic, then he’d better start actually teaching something.

“So,” he continued, rolling his shoulders back. Such big broad shoulders that you had tried to rest your head on in the cinema when this outfit was on the screen almost dropping hints to him that he could be your general “Let’s try this again. Who can tell me what the phrase strength & honor meant in the context of Roman military culture?”

Silence. More averted gazes. You sighed. Classic kids.

Ben, still ever the optimist, scanned the room, waiting for someone to answer. When no one did, he huffed & turned toward you.

“My lady?”

Your brain crashed.

Like, full system shutdown. Because first of all… my lady?!

Second of all, he had said it so smoothly, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like it wasn’t a one-way ticket to your complete& total flustered demise. Like he had been Acacius trying to seduce his wife in the film. Heat flooded your face instantly. You were absolutely sure, that you had just turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato.

“W-what?” you croaked, barely processing the question.

Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at your sudden inability to function. “Strength & honor. What did it mean?”

Oh. Right. The actual lesson. You’d completely forgotten this was actually happening.

You cleared your throat, trying to will yourself back to sanity. “Uh, it was a motto used by Roman soldiers. It represented their loyalty to Rome & their personal code of ethics, courage, discipline, self-sacrifice.”

Ben grinned, snapping his fingers. “Exactly! See? At least someone did the reading.”

The students barely reacted, still caught up in the fact that their history teacher had just called you my lady.

You could feel them staring at you. Whispering. Giggling. Just to make it worse, one kid whispered, “The General & his Empress… a forbidden love.” But it was near you & loud enough that you could hear it.

You wanted to die.Ben, oblivious as ever, just sighed dramatically. “Can we please focus?”You were never going to live this down.

Ben then actually started teaching, everything still chaotic but getting calmer. A bit like the senate in Rome. You were so close to regaining control of yourself. Sure, you were still vaguely overheating from the my lady incident, but at least Ben had moved on. At least the students were somewhat engaged again.

“Alright, let’s talk about the structure of a Roman legion. Who can tell me how it was organized?” Ben asked the class. Dead silence. The students just stared at him, their newfound obsession with gladiators clearly not extending to actual military formations. Ben groaned. “Seriously? Nothing?”Still nothing.

You sighed, pushing back your chair as you stood up. “Okay, come on. You all know at least something about this.” The moment you moved to the front of the classroom, the energy shifted. You had co taught in the past but usually he was in a blue shirt & you hadn’t put as much effort into your look as you had today.

A low murmur ran through the students. Smirks. Whispering. Your stomach dropped. You had just hand-delivered them a golden opportunity to make things worse.

Ben, still completely unaware, just gestured toward you. “See? She believes in you. Show her that her faith is not misplaced.”

One of the kids leaned forward, grinning. “Ohhh, she believes in you, General.”

A chorus of ooohs swept through the room.You froze.

Ben turned to you, frowning in confusion. “Wait, what?”

More snickers. Another kid stage-whispered, “Our Empress stands beside her General at last.” You could feel your soul leaving your body. It’s hard enough to get kids to respect you at school but now, this would spread like the plague.

Ben blinked at the class, then looked back at you. Really looked at you. & after many years of being colleagues & friends finally, it happened. You saw the exact moment realization dawned on his face. The slightly widened eyes. The way his breath hitched just barely. The slow, dawning comprehension that maybe, just maybe, this was affecting you a little more than it should. Your lips parted slightly, your whole body tense, praying he wouldn’t say anything. Instead, being Ben, the hapless fool he is, made it worse. His mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smirk.

“Oh,” he said, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous. “I see.”

No, you don’t see anything, shut up shut up shut up.

Before you could form a single coherent thought, he turned back to the class, hands on his hips like he was thoroughly enjoying this. “Alright, settle down,” he said, his usual easy confidence returning. “The Empress & I are here to teach, not provide entertainment.”

Laughter. Absolute chaos. Someone actually clapped. You were done. Absolutely, completely done. worst of all? Ben knew it now. You could see the amusement in his stupidly handsome face. The awareness. You were so screwed.

Eventually bell finally rang, cutting through the chaos like a lifeline. You had survived just. Ben was in his element in lots of ways. Students grabbed their things, still whispering & giggling as they filed out. One of them actually had the nerve to pause by the door, hand over their heart, & declare, “Strength & honour, General. & … best of luck with your Empress.”

Ben barely held back a laugh. “Out.” You said sternly. The kid grinned & bolted before you could put them in detention for sassiness. just like that, the classroom was empty. Except for you & him. You exhaled, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Well. That was…”

Ben leaned against his desk, smirking. “Educational?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “I was going to say insufferable. But sure. Let’s go with educational.”

He chuckled, arms folding over his chest, the fabric of that damn tunic pulling across his broad manly shoulders in a way that was deeply unfair.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head at you. “You survived.”

“Barely.” You scoffed. You turned to grab your things, determined to get out of this room before your body temperature spiked again. But then, because the universe clearly hated you, Ben spoke again.

“You know,” he mused, “for someone who came here to keep my class in order, you seemed pretty entertained.” You froze. Slowly, so slowly, you turned back to him, carefully schooling your face into neutrality.

“I was entertained,” you admitted, tilting your head. “Your theatrics were… impressive.”

Ben let out a low, amused hum. “Uh-huh.” He was looking at you now, not just with the usual casual charm, but with something… else. Something you couldn’t quite place. Before you could think too hard about it, you added, because clearly, you hadn’t suffered enough yet:

“Plus, you did look the part.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Silence. Tension that the sharpest Roman blade would find hard to cut. Ben’s eyebrows lifted slightly, that slow smirk returning like he knew exactly what you meant.

“Oh?”

Oh no. Abort. Abort! Your brain thinks but your heart is leaping with joy.

“I mean…”You waved vaguely at his tunic, grasping for literally any escape. “The outfit. It worked.” Again the wrong but right thing to say. Ben watched you, eyes flicking over your face, his smirk deepening.something had shifted. The teasing was still there, but underneath it, there was something quieter. Something sharper. Like he was actually seeing you. For the first time today, maybe for the first time ever, you weren’t sure you could handle it. Your own little crush no one knew about had been fine for you to secretly have on Ben but now you could see it his eyes… he knew.

You cleared your throat, grabbing your bag. “Anyway, I should go.” Ben was still watching you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. As you reached the door, he called out,his voice lower, softer:

“You really think I looked the part?” You didn’t dare turn around. Instead, you just threw a look over your shoulder, as casually as possible:

“Don’t let it go to your head, General.”

“Of course not…” there was a slight pause before you left & then you heard him say those two words “…my lady”

You left quickly back to your own class room, before he could see the ridiculous, completely flustered smile that had taken over your face.

You had almost recovered. Almost. How you taught period four you had no idea at all but you got through it. You were desperately trying to focus on your actual job, shoving any & all thoughts of General Benedictus out of your mind, & those rather stunning knees.

Ben was already in the teachers’ lounge when you walked in at lunch time, back in his usual teaching look, blue shirt lose tie. Not your favourite though he only wears that on parents evening.

Because the universe loved to torment you today, he was mid-conversation with another staff member, loudly recounting his lesson. You hesitated at the door, debating if you should just turn around & starve, but it was too late. You were already here. You could do this. You’d just grab your lunch, not make eye contact, & pretend like Ben hadn’t spent an entire period unknowingly ruining your life. Easy… or so you think.

You headed straight for the fridge, determined to keep your head down, however Ben’s smooth voice carried across the room. Always music to your ears.

“I mean, I knew they’d be excited about Gladiator 2,” he was saying, “but I did not expect full-scale reenactments.”

The other teacher, a geography guy from down the hall chuckled. “Yeah, I heard one of the kids say something about General Benedictus?”

Ben groaned. “Oh, that.”You stiffened, pretending to be very interested in your lunchbox. “They started calling me that the second I walked in,” Ben continued. “I figured if I didn’t lean into it, they’d only get worse.”

The other teacher laughed. “Well, they’re definitely invested. I overheard a couple of them still talking about it after class.”

Ben smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah? What were they saying?” Your heart started to race.

The geography teacher grinned, grabbing his coffee. “Something about ‘the General and his lady.’” You choked on absolutely nothing. Ben froze. You both knew by the end of the day the whole highs school would know. You are both doomed.

The other teacher frowned, looking over, not putting two & two together . “You okay?”

You cleared your throat, way too quickly. “Yeah! Fine! Totally fine!” Ben turned his head toward you so fast you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash. Slowly, his lips curled into a smirk. The menace of the man.

“Oh,” he said, voice way too entertained. “So you did hear all that.” You hated him. But you also wanted him.

Desperately trying to play it cool, you shrugged & grabbed your drink. “Hard not to, considering you’re basically broadcasting it to the entire room.”

Ben hummed, still smirking. “Huh. & here I thought you weren’t that entertained by my theatrics.”

Any bit of resolve & restrain from you was falling, crumbling like the Roman Empire.

The geography teacher, completely oblivious to the war happening between you two, just laughed. “Man, those kids are gonna be talking about this for weeks.”

Ben shot you one last look, smug, amused, interested, before turning back to him. “Yeah,” he said, lips quirking. “Something tells me this isn’t over.” You practically sprinted out of the room with your lunch. Because, judging by the way Ben had just looked at you, you had a very bad feeling he was absolutely right. There was nothing you could do to stop this plague of the general & his empress being the school gossip.

You barely managed to hold yourself together until you were out of the teachers’ lounge. The second the door swung shut behind you, you let out a sharp, frustrated breath. You didn’t know your heart could pump that hard & fast. Every nerve on edge. You stormed down the hallway, gripping your lunch like it had personally offended you. You weren’t even thinking about where you were going, just that you needed out. Away from the smirking menace that was Ben. Away from the way he’d looked at you, like he was considering something he never had before.

Your feet carried you straight to his classroom. Of course they did. It was auto pilot. On Wednesdays you & Ben always have a little catch up at lunch in his class before the afternoon lessons. You shoved the door open, dropped your lunch on a desk, & pressed your hands against the cool surface, trying to breathe. You needed a minute. Just one minute to collect yourself. To not think of that smug handsome face.

The door swung open behind you.

You knew who it was before he even spoke.

“Wow,” Ben said, voice far too amused as he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t realize my classroom was your personal melodrama retreat.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Oh god, just leave it for 5 minutes please”

Ben stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. You felt him approach before you even turned.

“I mean, you did run out of there pretty fast,” he continued, his tone light but aware. “Almost like you were trying to avoid something.”

You whipped around, pointing at him. “Oh, don’t you dare…”

He raised his hands in mock innocence. “What? I’m just making an observation.”

You scoffed, grabbed you lunch & went to walk past him to head to anywhere he wouldn’t be. But Ben, of course, moved with you. He turned just enough to stay in your space, his smirk deepening as he watched you try to put distance between you.

“C’mon,” he drawled, voice dangerously smooth. “Tell me the truth. You were a little entertained today.” He was close enough you could hear his voice reverberate. Sounding so soothing. Ben leaned in slightly. “Also…” His voice dropped just a bit. Just enough to really ruin you. “You did say I looked the part.”

You whirled on him, eyes flashing. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you don’t.” The tension was suffocating now.

Something tight & hot crackled in the space between you, heavy enough to steal your breath. You swallowed hard, pulse hammering as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “You…” Your voice came out shakier than intended. “You are the most insufferable man I have ever met.” Ben tilted his head, studying you. His smirk faltered for just a second. His eyes flicked to your lips. that was when you knew. He wasn’t just teasing anymore. He felt more .He wanted you flustered. He wanted this tension. He wanted you.

Your breath hitched.

Ben exhaled slowly, his voice turning low—thoughtful.

“…Huh.”

You swallowed. “What?”

Ben’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip, his gaze burning now. “Just thinking,” he murmured. “Maybe the kids were onto something.”Your stomach flipped. Because suddenly, you were the one being studied. You were the one making him pause.The tension was too much.You needed to get out.

Now!

Without another word, you spun on your heel, practically running for the door. Ben didn’t stop you. But as you yanked the door open, his voice followed you, soft, teasing, and way too damn smug.

“Speak later, my lady.” You slammed the door shut behind you. Ben on the other side of the door just smiled. Feeling his own butterflies. Wondering how his heart had never felt this way about you before.

You had never been so happy to see the end of the school day. Back home, no kids, no gossip, no Ben or General Benedictus. You had done everything in your power to shake off the day. You’d taken a shower. You’d put on comfy pajamas. You’d made tea, curled up on your couch, & sworn to yourself that you weren’t going to think about him.

Yet Here you were, staring at your phone. Almost like you were manifesting it as you opened your messages, right there, was his name on your screen. New message to read.

Ben: So. About today.

You blinked.Oh, hell no.

You couldnt help it though. You were typing back before you could stop yourself.

You: No.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Ben: What do you mean, “no”???

You groaned, flopping back against your couch. Of course he was doing this. Of course he wasn’t letting it go.

Another message popped up.

Ben: C’mon, admit it. You had fun today.

You hesitated.Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between ignoring him &…well …Being honest. Because you had fun. You did. You always did with him. Even when he was an idiot. He was your friend, your idiot & you wanted him to be more than a friend. Even when he was making you want to tear your hair out. You needed him more than air especially, when he was making your stomach flip with nothing but a smirk a

& a well-placed my lady. You exhaled sharply, shaking your head before finally typing back.

You: It was tolerable.

Ben’s reply was instant.

Ben: Tolerable?? Wow. Okay. I see how it is.

You smirked, suddenly very pleased with yourself.

You: Glad we’re on the same page.

A pause. Three dots… & then

Ben: …And what page is that, exactly?

Your breath hitched. Because that… that was flirting. The menace. The smug handsome menace. You bit your lip, heart hammering as you stared at the screen, trying to figure out how to respond

…Another message.

Ben: Because personally, I think we’re on a very interesting page.

You froze.Your pulse roared.Oh.Oh. Not that he could see you getting flustered, but you felt like he could. Ben was not just teasing anymore. He was doing this on purpose. Your stomach flipped, for a split second, you considered throwing your phone across the room, changing your number & running away. But that was to irrational. Instead, you took a steadying breath &typed back, pulse racing.

You: And what kind of page would that be, General?

This time, his reply took a little longer. when it finally appeared, your entire body burned.

Ben: Wouldn’t you like to know, my lady?

Oh, you were so in trouble.

You had barely slept. Which was entirely Ben’s fault. When you did eventually get some

Sleep, your dreams were filled with him wearing that costume, smiling like the cat with all the cream & also adjusting his glasses in the sexiest way. After that conversation last night, especially the teasing, the my lady, you had spent hours replaying every little moment from yesterday, overthinking everything.

Now on Thursday you were sitting at your desk, nursing a coffee like it was the only thing keeping you alive, desperately trying to pretend like you weren’t waiting for him to show up. Because of course he was going to show up. He was Ben. Even without his information he liked to pop in each morning to see how his friend was… now the tension & unspoken words meant more than friends was very much on the cards. when the door finally opened, & he stepped inside you felt the flutter of your heart. Yeah. You were so screwed. Because Ben wasn’t just Ben today. He was smug Ben. Ben with a purpose. & this Ben, well he was wearing your favorite tie.

You froze. It wasn’t parents evening, this was a deliberate choice for you… for his empress eyes only. Ben smirked, strolling in with zero shame, his hands tucked in his pockets like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Morning,” he said casually. God that voice was so enchanting. Your eyes flicked to the tie. Then back to his way too pleased face.

“You’re wearing that on purpose,” you accused.

Ben tilted his head, all faux innocence. “Wearing what?”

You glared. “The tie.”

Ben glanced down at himself like he’d just now noticed. “Oh. Huh. I guess I am.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Well it’s still a nice tie” he shrugged at your words. “your impossible somethings you know that”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer. “You said that yesterday too. Starting to think it’s your pet name for me.”

Your face burned. Like you had been a naughty student being told off by her favourite teacher.

Before you could snap at him, he pulled something from behind his back, a coffee. Your favorite coffee. He placed it on your desk with a smirk. “Peace offering.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. “Why?”

Ben shrugged, his voice dipping into something softer,something almost sincere.

“Because I was kind of an ass yesterday, it was kinda fun though,” he admitted. “& because…” His lips twitched. “I don’t want my lady holding a grudge.”

You hated how much that stupid nickname made your stomach flip. You sighed, glancing at the coffee. “You’re so lucky I need caffeine.”

Ben chuckled. “I know.”

Yours in your mug had gone cold so because you were weak, you took a sip. It was so good. You let out a little moan, this was when Ben moved closer. Close enough that the air shifted. Close enough that you could smell him, his stupid cologne, the faint scent of coffee on his breath. Close enough that your heart stumbled, because suddenly, it didn’t feel like teasing anymore. It felt like something else. Something bigger. Something dangerous. Something desired.

You swallowed hard, setting the cup down with slightly shaky hands. “You should…”You cleared your throat your voice trembling & betraying you. “You should go before class starts.” Ben didn’t move. His gaze flicked down, to your lips, which you didn’t realise were pouting.Then back up. Slow. Intentional. & so very hot. Your breath hitched.

finally, Ben exhaled, stepping back with a knowing smirk.”See you later, my lady.”

He left you staring as he walked out, trying to comprehend its all, gripping your desk, completely ruined.

The day had been torture. Ever since Ben waltzed into your classroom that morning, smirking, wearing that tie, giving you your coffee, he’d been everywhere. Usually this is nice but after the recent developments of the last couple of days this was suddenly impossible. Walking past your door at just the right moment. Flashing you a look during lunch. Brushing just a little too close in the hallway. Every single time, it sent your brain straight into dangerously unprofessional territory. With that & kids from all year groups asking you about his infamous history lesson, You’d barely made it through the day.

Just before the final bell, you found yourself back in his classroom. Alone. The excuse had been flimsy at best, something about checking on a lesson plan, making sure tomorrow’s class was set, but the truth? You had caved. Because avoiding him clearly wasn’t working. Neither was pretending you didn’t want him just as badly as he wanted you.

You stood near his desk, fingers tapping against the edge, when the door opened behind you. You didn’t even have to turn around. You knew who it was.

Ben’s voice was low, teasing. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You let out a sharp breath, turning to face him. “You are”

“I know,” he smirked. “Impossible.” You glared, but your own eyes danced at him betraying you. Ben took another step closer. “Admit it,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You swallowed. “Thinking about what?”

Ben’s gaze dropped, to your lips. Your stomach flipped.

“This,” he murmured.

His large hand cupped your face, your eyes locked, warmth filled you veins as your lips parted & then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was everything he had been holding back. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him, & god, he kissed like he meant it. Like he had been dying to do this. Like he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Your fingers curled into his shirt, your body melting into him, holy hell…this hot & it was happening. After all the teasing. After all the tension. It was bloody happening.

Crash!

The door swung open. A chorus of outrageous teenage gasps filled the room.

“Ohhh my god!”

“Called it! Called it!”

“THE GENERAL & HIS LADY.”

You ripped yourself away from Ben, mortified, while he just groaned, rubbing his face.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. You turned to face the students, who were, at this point, losing their minds.

One of them dramatically clutched their chest. “Sir, I feel betrayed.”

Another wagged their finger at you both. “So that’s why she was in the back of the class yesterday, she wasn’t just observing; she was admiring.”

Ben let out a deep sigh. “Alright, that’s enough. You all have classes to get to” It did nothing.

One kid just grinned at you. “Miss, was the lesson that entertaining?”You wanted to die.

Ben turned to you, clearly biting back a smile. “You did say you were entertained.” You digged him in the ribs, Hard.

The kids absolutely lost it, Ben just laughed, because now, neither of you had any chance of pretending this wasn’t real. You didn’t want to. You were ecstatic Ben felt the same way as you.

Some of the kids dispersed & left the door & you saw this as your moment to leave too. You had made it maybe three steps out of Ben’s classroom before a very firm hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you right back inside.

The door now shut. Just you & your man. The kids all off to their lessons their little display they had witnessed now private.

Ben wasted no time & pressed up against the desk, staring up at a very smug, very smirking Ben. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way your entire body thrummed at the closeness.

“Running away?” he asked, voice way too amused.

You glared. “You’re insufferable.”

Ben just hummed. “& yet, here you are.”

Your pulse roared. Because he was right. You were here. & you weren’t running. Not anymore.

“I’ve always been here Ben, it’s always been you” you run your hand through his hair.

Ben studied you, his smirk softening just a bit.

“So,” he murmured, voice dipping into something dangerous, “are we going to talk about what just happened?” You swallowed hard.

“Well,” you managed, trying to sound casual, “we did just get caught making out in your classroom, so…” you face can’t hide your delight.

Ben groaned, closing his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You grinned. “Oh, we will never be allowed to live this down.”

His eyes flicked open, burning now. “That so?”

Your stomach flipped. “Mhm.”

Ben tilted his head, watching you closely. “Y’know,” he mused, voice dropping just enough to ruin you, “I actually kept the costume.”Your breath hitched. Oh, that was dangerous information. Your lips parted slightly, your brain immediately spiraling into places it shouldn’t…

Ben noticed. He always notices even when he thought he didn’t.

His smirk deepened. “Oh, you like that, huh?”You refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. But your face, the way it burned, the way your gaze flickered just slightly, betrayed you.

Ben grinned. “Wow,” he teased, “& here I thought you were all prim and proper”

“I am into roleplay,” you cut in flatly, surprising even yourself. Ben froze. You saw it, the slight stumble, the way his pupils dilated. His tongue gliding over his bottom lip.

“Ohhh,” he murmured, stepping closer—too close. “You’re going to be so much fun.” Your breath caught.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in slightly, just enough to whisper, “Isn’t that right, Benedictus ?” Ben froze solid. For the first time all day, he was the one caught off guard. His jaw tensed. His fingers twitched against your hip. His entire body stilled as something hotter, something darker, flashed in his eyes. Suddenly, you were the one in control.

Ben inhaled sharply, his gaze flicking over your face. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, my lady.”

You smirked. “Am I?”

Ben exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you just started.”Your heart pounded. Then just as he leaned in, just as you swore he was about to ruin you completely.

A knock.

You both jumped back as the door creaked open slightly.

“Uh, sir?”

You turned, only to see one of the students from earlier, barely holding back a shit-eating grin.

“We forgot our books,” they said, clearly lying, their eyes flicking between the two of you.

Ben sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

The student just smirked. “You’re welcome.” They bolted, laughing way too hard as they ran down the hall. Ben groaned. You just grinned, grabbing your bag & heading for the door. But just before you stepped out, you leaned in one last time, letting your lips brush his ear.

“Strength & honor, Benedictus .” Leaving Ben standing there, stunned, breathless, & completely ruined. This was so not over. Not by a long shot.

One thing lead to another & it was soon Friday night. You were sat on Ben sofa, an occurrence that happened from time to time as friends. It’s usually at this time in the evening you either ask for a pillow & blanket so you can crash at his or he puts the two of you in a uber so he can make sure you get back to yours safely before taking the exact same uber back to his. He was always a gentleman to his lady, he had never truly realised it until earlier in the week.

What at the start of the week had been a friendship had tonight ended up with the two of you at a nice steak house, longing glances over wine, hand strokes, moments where silence was all the was needed, & kisses tasting better then the delicious meal you had eaten. This was more than friends. You sat in the sofa trembling a little, wondering where Ben was he had been gone a while. Had he gone to bed & forgotten about you sat on his sofa?

“My lady” you hear bounce off the walls breaking the silence.

“My gen…” you don’t complete the sentence as you turn your head to his direction. The room is now filled with your laughter. There he is. Back in his Roman costume. The white glistening, the cape swishing, the hair messed up. He’s showing off his broad shoulders & Tiny waist. Those knees, oooh they made your own go weak. He look’s ridiculous & exquisite at the same time. The smirk on his face twitching. Clearly he is glad this has an impression on you.

“Tell me, if we were the general & his wife, how would I court you?” He asks. “Would I bring you flowers, would I bring you wine, would…”

“Your favourite tie, bringing me coffee & your sexy glasses is all I’ve ever needed Benedictus” you interrupt & slowly get off the sofa making your way across to him. You hesitate at first to touch him but then see the want in his eyes so your hands glide over his shoulder. You let out a deep sigh, inhaling his scent. Always arousing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“cos your much older & way out of my league”

You say looking down stroking the soft material. He then grabs under your chin & lifts it. The eye contact intense, his words from the soul.

“I may be slow at picking up signs, but if you’d let me know much sooner, we could have been addressing this along time ago” his thumb trails over your lips. You stand on your top toes to make sure those lips connect with his. Deep, powerful & emotional, like this kiss has been built up for years, which in your head it has. His hands were caressing your neck as the kiss got steamier before one of them slid to your back & slowly started work on the zip on your dress.

“Maybe this needs to happen somewhere more grand for a general” you say, breathy already. Radiating arousal at his touch as the zip reaches your lower back.

“Only the best for my lady” he says before he scoops you up into his arms & carry’s you to the bed you have long dream or of occupying.

Ben lays you down gently on the bed, his hands never leaving your body, as if afraid this might all vanish if he let go. You reach up, fingers immediately finding the soft folds of his cape, tugging at it slowly until it slips from his shoulders & you discard it onto the floor. Your eyes trail over him, the absurdity of the costume, the way he somehow manages to make it sexy. The chest plate is next, & as you unclip it, your knuckles brush against warm skin & tense muscle beneath. Ben watches you, breath heavy, lips parted, not saying a word. His gaze is hungry. Focused. Mush like a general about to conquer what’s rightfully his.

“Tell me,” you whisper as you reach for the fabric at his waist, “did they make underwear in ancient Rome?”

Ben huffs a soft laugh, tilting your chin with his finger. “For you? I’m going historically accurate.” & sure enough, when the final layer drops, he’s gloriously, completely bare beneath.

Your breath catches. You’ve seen him before, glimpses, tight shirts, damp post gym moments, but nothing prepared you for this. He’s all power & heat & perfectly ruined restraint, & somehow, still smirking like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You sit up, sliding your dress off your shoulders & letting it pool around your waist before you shimmy it the rest of the way down. You’re in your underwear, but not for long. Ben takes over, unclasping your bra with skillful fingers before tossing it aside. He kisses down your shoulder, your collarbone, reverent, teasing, & hot as sin.

“Now,” he says lowly, voice rough & dark against your ear. “How do you want this?” Its commanding. He’s into this.

You bite your lip, emboldened by the haze between you. “I want to taste you.”

Ben’s breath catches. His hands flex at your hips. “Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, grinning as you push him back onto the pillows & crawl up his body, straddling his chest for a moment, teasing, before shifting lower. At the same time, he tugs you gently forward, guiding you with that same maddening patience he always has, only this time, it’s deliciously wicked.

Before long, you’re both shifting into place, mouths hungry, bodies aligned in that perfect, obscene symmetry. You moan against him the moment he slides his tongue over you slowly, expert, so Ben. He groans, hips jerking as you take him in your mouth in return.

It’s messy, hot, overwhelming. It’s worship & ruin & everything you’ve both been holding back. He tastes like salt & skin, & you make a mental note to thank the Roman gods for whatever twist of fate led to this exact moment. Just before the edge starts to creep in, before your entire body threatens to break from the pressure of it all, Ben pulls back just long enough to murmur, breathless against your thigh:

“Still entertained, my lady?” You just moan your answer because words? Useless now… & will be for the rest of the night.

Saturday morning & Ben’s bedroom was a mess. The sheets were tangled & smelled of you. His gladiator costume was somewhere on the floor, a discarded relic of the absolute sin that had taken place. You were still breathless. Your body was boneless, melted into the mattress, your skin still buzzing from everything he’d done to you the night before & this morning. Ben, equally wrecked, lay beside you, one arm draped lazily across your stomach. Neither of you spoke. Not yet. Still in a sexual haze of lust. Because neither of you had fully recovered. But the silence wasn’t awkward. It was warm & comforting. You look at your man, watching his magnificent chest rise & fall. Noticing every drip of sweat. He’s perfect. He’s your kind of perfect.

Your fingers lazily traced along his forearm, & Ben hummed, a low, deep sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Arousing you instantly. You turned your head, finding him already watching you. Smirking. The Smug bastard.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, voice hoarse from… well… Everything.

Ben chuckled. “& impossible” he added that made you laugh “yet…” His hand slid along your waist, pulling you even closer. “Here you are.”

Your lips twitched. He wasn’t wrong. You exhaled, tilting your head just enough to kiss him, slow, lazy, thorough. Ben sighed into it, his fingers pressing into your hip, his body shifting just enough to remind you, that He wasn’t done with you yet. His erection is already starting to form again.

When you finally pulled away, he gave you that look. The one that had ruined you in the first place. The one that meant trouble.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his nose brushing against yours, “I think that was my best history lesson yet.”

You huffed a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” His fingers trailed absently along your thigh. “& you, make an excellent student.”

Clearly the role play of him coming home after a grand battle was now making him have even more of a teacher fantasy. You were only going to encourage it. You smirked. “Think I deserve extra credit?” Ben grinned, flipping you onto your back with zero effort, settling right between your legs.

“Oh, my lady,” he murmured, voice wicked & full of promise.”I think you deserve everything.”

Then he showed you exactly what he meant.

Again.

& again.

& again.

Making sure you really were entertained.

[joyswonderland1108]

“We decided” — Sorry, didn’t realize you were the BTS parliament.

So apparently now ARMY has turned into the French Senate because every time I blink, someone’s out here talking about “we” — who tf is we??? Because I definitely didn’t RSVP to that shady group chat, the triple K if you will, where the fandom council sat down with their gavel and robes and decided RM is the one to vote for — and anyone who breathes in Jimin’s direction is suddenly a “solo” or an anti.

Really?? That's where we are?

An OT7 account encouraged people to vote for whoever they want, and instead of touching grass or, I don't know, exercising your own right to vote, y’all said, “They’re an anti.” Because they didn’t go along with what “we” decided. Okay Judge Judy. Tell me more about this dictatorship disguised as unity.

And the cherry on top? People acting brand new like Jimin isn't in BTS. I'm sorry, is voting for Jimin somehow voting against BTS now? Did I miss the HYBE press release where he was removed from the group because y’all sure are acting like he’s just some guy with a TikTok account.

(Lol this edit is funny to me)

Now let’s reverse the situation for a hot second.

Let’s say the roles were reversed and RM was in a poll with another member. If some of y’all had your bias in the same spot, would you be out here chanting “we decided RM!” in the streets? No. No you wouldn’t. You’d either:

Vote for your bias and pretend not to see,

Use that good ol’ split-vote technique to sleep better at night,

Or write 14 Tumblr paragraphs about how you’re being oppressed for having the audacity to make your own voting decisions.

So why is it different now?

Because it's Jimin. And we’ve seen this before. Let me take you back: remember when it was Jimin vs. Yoongi in another voting poll? (TMA) A whole lot of people refused to help Jimin even when he was ahead and had a real shot at winning. And that was FINE — because everyone is allowed to make their own choices. But THEN y’all didn’t even back Yoongi either. You know what some of you did? You teamed up with ajhummas to vote for Lim Woo Young. Not because you liked him, but because the very idea of Jimin winning gave you heartburn. You’d rather Yoongi lose than let Jimin win.

Let that sink in.

And now it's the same tired playbook. It’s Day 1 of the poll and people already dictating the narrative, twisting arms, labeling others as antis because they dared to… vote? For a BTS member? The horror.

People are splitting votes. People are voting for their bias. That’s called doing your best. That’s called respecting choice. That’s called being a fan of a group with seven members.

And let’s not pretend you’re campaigning for RM’s success 24/7. I’m not talking about screenshots and hashtags. I’m talking about actual support. Where are the streams? The playlisting? The charting help? If your only interaction with RM’s music is voting for him in one poll and screaming at others for not doing the same, then maybe you’re not the one to lead the “WE decided” committee.

You want real strategy? Try:

Gathering vote data over the first few days.

Seeing who’s in the lead and working with that momentum.

Coordinating in a way that includes—not bullies—the fandom.

But I guess that’s too boring when you can just yell “JIMIN VOTERS ARE ANTIS!” and call it a day.