#and the assignments we give - as annoying as they may be - are carefully designed to ensure you're able to do so

[lololollywrites]

Some of you may know that I'm a university professor of Education; I mainly teach graduate students, and my classes are comprised of both current and future teachers.

Anyway... I've been grading research papers this afternoon, and the first three (out of 29) I graded were excellent. But the fourth?? THE FOURTH IS COMPLETELY AI-GENERATED. I knew even before I ran it through three online detectors. Just a bit too generic. A bit too formulaic. A bit too perfect.

I've had students plagiarize lesson plans before, but this is the first time something like this has happened. To students out there who might not see the big deal, I'm not sure you understand the disrespect and disappointment cheating like this this makes teachers/professors feel. I put my all into lesson planning and teaching, and I spend FOREVER writing thorough and detailed comments that I hope help my students moving forward. I agonize over whether any grade I assign is fair and accurate, and I am dedicated to making sure that students in my classes are ready to enter the world as true professionals that proudly represent our university and positively reflect the quality of the education we provide.

HE'S A TEACHER. USING AI. That's the scary part to me. Additionally, this is for a piece of writing - on a very important topic - that will ultimately go into many of their teaching portfolios. It's not meant to be generic; it's meant to represent who they are. Would he accept AI submissions from his own students? If so, I'm scared.

I hate that I'm surprised and able to be so easily disappointed. :(

[bloodynosesarejustlikeroses]

𝐌𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫

✦; ꒰Dick Grayson ✗ Reader꒱ ;;✦ ↴

01. Summary. The human world was unknown to you, so wonderful, exciting, and terrifying at the same time. So many things to discover, to learn, it may sound intimidating for a young amazon like you, luckily, you got your own "Steve Trevor" to accompany you in the battle... Or something like that...

02. Word count. 5,722 words.

03. Warnings . Mention of wounds.

04. Notes. Hello, to the anon who requested this, you didn’t specify which deity, so I chose to use as a base the Greek Goddess "Nike" (Yes, like the brand). Nike was the goddess of speed, strength, and victory. She could grant humans the strength and speed needed to be victorious in any task they undertook.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me feel free to leave me a tip on my Ko-fi. It's something I will always remember and be grateful for, I assure you.

(English is my second language, so if something sounds out of place or is misspelled, please let me know).

— This is the last one. — You said as you tied up the last of the thieves.

The team had been assigned to stop a bank robbery, not the kind of mission the team was used to, but a crime was a crime.

— We must secure the perimeter to make sure there are no more of them. — Aqualad said, ready to give another order but was interrupted by a certain red-haired boy.

— I suggest going in duos to make it quicker. — Kid Flash suggested clearly wanting to get somewhere. — Me with Aqualad, Superboy with M'gann, Artemis with Zatanna… — Dick knew where this was going. — And last but not least Robin with Wonder Girl.

The whole team looked at Aqualad, waiting for confirmation, he simply nodded and as quickly as he did they all split up, leaving you alone with the Boy Wonder. The two of you walked side by side in comfortable silence.

— Happy Harbor is really beautiful. — You said as you watched the locals walking through the streets of the area.

— Yeah… — Robin looked at you for a while, your eyes gazing with wonder at every little thing that crossed your path. — Really beautiful. — He said, although he wasn't talking about Happy Harbor.

You turned your head towards him, catching his gaze with yours, a small blush came to your cheeks as you smiled shyly, the atmosphere felt more intimate than usual, maybe because it was just the two of you, or maybe because walking so quietly through the streets beside him made it feel like a date. But the romantic atmosphere was quickly disturbed by a sound coming from Dick that was unfamiliar to you.

The sound made you get a little nervous. — What’s that? — You examined Richard with your eyes up and down with some curiosity trying to find the source of that annoying beeping sound.

— Oh, I’m sorry, it’s my phone, I always turn it off on every mission, I must have forgotten it this time. — Robin pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and ignored the incoming call, ending the ringing.

— Phone? — You asked as you carefully stood next to him and looked at the small device in his hands. — What is a phone?

— Well, it's a smart device mainly designed to facilitate communication, but you can do a lot of things with one of these. — Robin smiled at you without you noticing, warmed by your curiosity.

— We don't have those on Themyscira. So what exactly can that do?

— Well, you can send and receive messages, call people who are miles away from you, record videos, and… Take pictures… — A quick thought crossed Dick's mind. — Let me show you one of the things it can do. — Carefully one of Robin's arms wrapped around your waist pulling you close to him, he selected the camera on his cell phone and positioned it in the air to capture the image of the two of you. — Smile! — You followed Dick's movements, smiled shyly at the camera, and in an eyeblink, the image of the two of you was captured on the device. — See? — You took the phone in your hands, watching in amazement as the scene was captured on the screen.

— Wow, so this little magic box can keep moments as if it was a painting, amazing! — You said completely thrilled.

— It's not magic, it's technology. — Dick answered, looking at you with softness because of your innocence.

You remained frozen for a couple of seconds, staring at the photo with a smile, not realizing how close your body was to Dick's.

— There is still so much of the human world that I don't know, and so much to discover, it's exciting, but scary at the same time. — Your smile did not disappear, your eyes traced every detail of the photo.

— I know, but the team will help you. — Your eyes left the cell phone screen, and you turned your head, facing Dick, it was then that you realized how close he was to you, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. — I will help you. — One of Robin's hands moved to gently hold yours, a sweet smile lying on his face.

— You're like… — You thought for a moment, remembering the time Diana, your mentor, told you how she met Steve Trevor, the person who support her in her struggle and guided her through the man's world. — A Steve Trevor. — You said more to yourself than to him.

— A what? — Dick asked somewhat confused by your words.

— Oh, never mind. — You shook your head slightly embarrassed.

A short giggle leaked through Dick's lips, he couldn't help but find you adorable. The space between you two seemed to decrease with every second without you even noticing it. Despite the short time you had been with the team Dick's presence was endearing to you, and he felt the same way. He could spend hours and hours at your side listening to you talk about the wonders (as you called them) of the human world, although for him the only wonder was you.

Unfortunately, the romantic atmosphere that had enveloped the two of you was instantly shattered by Kid Flash's voice on the telepathic link. — Nothing here! — Both had become so immersed in each other that you had completely forgotten that you were still on a mission.

You recovered your posture and pulled away from Dick. The mission was your priority and you couldn't let your guard down like that.

— Nothing here either. — You said quietly to the rest of your teammates through the telepathic link.

The entire perimeter seemed to be secured, so the mission was completed.

— Let's go back to the base, Black Canary should be waiting for us for today's training. — This time it was Kaldur's authoritative voice that was heard over the link.

— Understood. — The entire team replied.

Even though you agreed to return to the base your shoulders drooped, as much as you wanted to deny it you would have liked to be alone with Dick a little longer, and the Boy Wonder felt the same way. You turned to look at him hiding your wish to stay alone with him for more time.

— Shall we go? — You asked turning around to go back.

Robin hesitated for a moment, thinking of some valid excuse to continue being just the two of you even if it was only for a couple more minutes. — Wait! — He rushed as an idea crossed his mind, positioning himself in front of you and cutting you off. — Why don't we go another way? — A smirk came to Dick's lips.

— Another way? — You asked curiously, although you were dying to accept his invitation.

Dick focused his attention on his forearm for a moment, pressing a couple of buttons on the holographic keyboard that had unfolded in the air. The sound of an engine approaching you in the distance made you become alert, a motorcycle approached you and stopped just a couple of feet away, it was Dick's motorcycle.

The Boy Wonder moved to his vehicle and climbed in without any effort, he then turned to you with a beautiful smile on his face. — So, what do you say? — A smile that hid perfectly the little nervousness he felt at the possibility of your rejection.

You reciprocated his smile, but you didn't give him an answer, the movement of your body spoke for itself, you walked over and took a seat behind him, your arms wrapped around his torso and your chin rested on his shoulder. Dick's body tensed for a second at your touch, but it was easy for him to get used to the feel of your body so close to his.

A smile spread across Dick's face, once he made sure you were well secured he drove off, the pace of the motorcycle wasn't too slow but it wasn't too fast either, it was simply perfect, and it allowed you to quietly enjoy the streets of Happy Harbor, the peaceful atmosphere seemed to be contagious to all the people there, you felt the sun rays hitting against your skin producing a pleasant feeling of warmth all over your body.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the humid wind hitting the skin of your face and letting your head rest on Dick's shoulder, this was one of the few quiet moments you had since you joined the team, and you were glad it was at his side.

[•••]

— Look who finally showed up. — Black Canary looked at you with her arms crossed over her chest, her face remained stoic, wanting to show dissatisfaction at your unpunctuality. Though deep down she couldn't help but feel tenderness for the "young love" (as she called it) that seemed to be developing between the two of you. All eyes were on you and the Boy Wonder; you were both so comfortable with each other that without you noticing it, the motorcycle ride was extended a little longer than it needed to be.  — Since you were the last to arrive, you will be paired up for today's training.

The rest of the team looked at you both with knowing smiles on their faces.

— Well, it looks like you're lucky today. — You rolled your eyes, a smile spread across your face at Dick's confidence. — So, what is today's training? — Everyone's attention quickly shifted to Black Canary in anticipation of what they would face in today's training.

— Simple and easy, fighting in pairs. — Everyone looked around, looking at their possible opponents, Superboy and Aqualad were a group, Miss Martian and Artemis were together, and last but not least, Zatanna and Kid Flash. — Today's confrontations may not be completely fair in terms of power or skill, but your fights will not always be, yet you must learn to compensate your weaknesses with communication and teamwork. — Suddenly an aura of friendly competitiveness was felt in the room, training sessions like this were always a source of excitement among the team. — Let's get started.

The first match was between Miss Martian and Artemis against Kid Flash and Zatanna, it lasted what seemed to be an eternity for them and only a couple of minutes for you and the rest of the team who watched the whole battle expectantly, it was a pretty equal and exciting fight, to say the least, but once proclaimed the winner of that match the next match began.

Dick and you against Kaldur and Conner, you couldn't deny it, facing them was exciting and intimidating at the same time, both were formidable enemies, and Superboy's strength was something that could not be denied, he could even appear to be invincible to some people, but the team knew that Conner's impulsiveness was perhaps his greatest weakness, if he faced an enemy that was able to analyze all his movements he would probably lose, unfortunately, he was teamed with Aqualad, and he perfectly covered Conner's weak point. Undoubtedly Kaldur was one of the team members with more battle experience, and while Conner had strength and brutality, Kaldur had strategy and agility; fortunately, you and Dick had nothing to envy from them, despite your nervousness you were confident in your skills, and in your partner.

— Are both teams ready? — Black Canary looked at you, and you nodded, as did your other three teammates. — Perfect, then... Begin!

You watched your enemies, thinking to take Conner and leave Aqualad for Robin, but before you could take the lead Kaldur rushed at you releasing strike after strike, his attacks were precise and fast, but yours were too, you as an Amazon had nothing to fear from an Atlantean, it was an equal fight; although you couldn't say the same about Robin and Superboy, despite the great intelligence and agility of the Boy Wonder he was no match for the clone of Superman or at least not physically.

The fight went on far longer than would have been expected, and neither team seemed close to being defeated, you turned your attention away from your opponent so you could visualize Robin for a moment, the Boy Wonder was starting to look tired, and who wouldn't be having to keep up with a Kryptonian, or well, in this case, a half Kryptonian. Dick's chest was rising and falling quickly as a result of his agitated breathing. Even if it was a simple training fight you didn't want to lose, not when you could win.

Conner seemed to have cornered Dick, the poor acrobat lacked the energy to continue the fight, and Superboy could see it, he raised his arm ready to deliver the last strike; Robin remained motionless for a second, thinking about how to get out of that situation, although his body could not take any more, his chest was moving violently trying to recover some air, and when he thought his legs would fail a huge wave of energy ran through him from head to toe, from the inside to the outside; it was electrifying, exciting. Dick never believed that people could be reborn, but if he did, he was sure that's how it would feel.

All tiredness was completely eliminated from his body, he felt full of energy, he felt determined, he felt alive. His limbs moved on their own, following the wave of energy that pushed them, even he was unaware of the speed with which he moved and in a matter of seconds Superboy was no longer facing him, instead, the Kryptonean had hit the ground a few feet away.

Multiple gasps of surprise echoed in the room, it was like for a moment time stopped, even Kladur who was totally focused on his fight seemed to have been completely stunned; Dick came to his senses, and like his companions, he remained motionless for a moment without understanding what was happening, until the realization hit him, it had been him, he had knocked Conner to the ground with a single punch.

Silence settled in the training room, Conner sat up again, rubbing his cheek where he had been hit, totally stunned.— How the hell did you do that?! — He wasn't upset, just surprised, more like shocked.

— I… — Dick tried to answer the question, but he was as speechless as everyone else. — I don’t know… — Silence reigned once again, everyone looked around for answers as if they would appear out of nowhere.

— It was me... — You confessed in the middle of the silence, earning the stares of everyone in the room. You shrank in your place, feeling judged by everyone's attention.

— What do you mean? — Black Canary asked curious about how you could be responsible for what happened.

— I… — You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the nervousness that had settled in you. — It is, one of my skills, I can grant the strength and speed necessary to guarantee victory to those I consider worthy.

With that clarification the tension in the place seemed to dissipate completely, instead, now everyone seemed curious and amazed by your abilities.

— I didn't know the Amazons could do that. — Aqualad stated.

— They can't, let's just say it's one of my unique skills I got it from my mother, but still, I should have mentioned it before I used it, sorry. — You looked at Dick with embarrassment, trying to apologize.

— Hey it's okay, don't worry. — Robin gave you a small comforting smile, it was certainly an… Interesting experience.

— Your mother? — Black Canary went ahead and asked.

— Yes, the Amazons know her as Nike, goddess of victory. — You replied with a bit of pride.

— Oh, like the brand? — Wally said with a smile.

— The brand? — Your head moved slightly and your brow furrowed, you hadn't been around men long enough to know what the red-haired boy was talking about.

— Yeah, you know, Nike, “Just do it” — Wally hinted, believing you would know what he meant, but you had no idea.

— Well, I think the training has been enough for today. — Black Canary announced, ending today's training.

Shortly the team started to leave the place.

— So… — Dick's voice echoed behind you, you turned and smiled at the sight of your favorite Boy Wonder. — You said you could use your powers on those you considered worthy, does that mean you think I'm worthy? — Your cheeks tinged slightly pink, but your smile didn't disappear.

— I do, I think you are worthy. — Your eyes didn't leave his, the warmth you felt in your body when you were with him had returned.

Neither of you said anything else after that, you smiled for the last time and walked away leaving a smiling Dick watching your figure fade away through Mount Justice.

— Well… — The black-haired boy turned around, only to see his red-haired best friend standing there, watching him with a sly grin. — When will you ask her out? — Wally asked.

— What? — Dick asked, one of his eyebrows raised.

— Oh come on, since she arrived you haven't stopped flirting. — Wally annoyed replied.

— Well yeah but, what's the rush? It's not like she’s going to disappear. — Dick shrugged, usually, Richard didn't wait long to act when it came to girls, but for once in his life, he wanted to take it easy, he knew that male company wasn't something you were used to, but he wanted to make sure he prioritized your comfort, he didn't want to rush things.

— Dude, just look at her. She's cute, she's charismatic, she's smart. — The redhead number every one of your qualities. — God, if you weren't my friend I'd already be trying my luck right now, and if you don't, someone else will. — Wally shrugged his shoulders, thinking he had made his point clearly enough, and decided to leave the place.

Dick stood there, thinking seriously about his friend's words. Maybe, for once, Wally was right.

[•••]

— Sector 5-D clear. — You said through the telepathic link waiting for your next order.

The Justice League had detected suspicious activity in a location on the edge of Metropolis, the place turned out to be a bodega of extraordinary size divided into sections; and although it would have been much quicker and easier to go through the place individually, Kaldur decided to separate the team in pairs believing that this would be the best thing to do in case of any confrontation. You looked over your shoulder, and glanced at your duo for this mission, the Boy Wonder simply nodded confirming that you should continue moving along this path.

Your footsteps were quiet and firm, ready for almost any probability that presented itself. You kept alert to the environment, every sound, every movement.

You stood firm, a huge shiver ran through your body, you stopped for a moment, and expelled some air through your mouth seeing how it could be distinguished in the air; you frowned confused, realizing that the temperature seemed to have dropped considerably despite only having advanced a small distance.

— I don't remember any other sector getting so cold, do you? — You asked Robin, turning your body to face him hoping for an answer that would corroborate the temperature change.

— No, something must be causing it. — The Boy Wonder answered checking the holographic screen displayed from his armband trying to find the cause of the temperature change.

You opened your lips to say something else, but your senses snapped in a second, and a high-pitched sound reached your ears alerting you about the danger. — Watch out! — You grabbed the shield from your back, and moved, positioning yourself in front of Dick, digging your feet into the ground, bending your knees, and ready for impact. A projectile collided with the metal of your shield, the place filled with fog preventing you from seeing your enemy.

You felt the temperature drop even more and saw the frost starting to cover the walls of the building. Robin left his place behind you and positioned himself next to you, waiting for anything. Slowly the fog dissipated, revealing your rival in this mission.

— Icicle Jr... — Robin whispered, staring at your adversary who stood proudly with a smug smile on his face.

— That’s right Boy Wonder I… — Jr. seemed to be about to start his monologue, however, his eyes were taken away by your presence, although you had heard of him you hadn't had the opportunity to encounter him until now, and apparently, he had never had the pleasure of hearing from you, but you seemed to be able to captivate him with a single glance. — Hey… — He greeted you in a flirtatious tone, forgetting that his goal was defeating you and your teammate.

— We hadn't met, had we? No, I would remember a face as pretty as yours. — You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden change of attitude. His arrogant features had softened for you.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the little reddish hue that wanted to grow on your cheeks, although it was questionable, it took you by surprise to be called pretty by the enemy. — No, we haven't. — You replied.

— Conner should have told me that there was a new hottie on the team. — He winked at you, waiting to get a reaction from you.

— Agh, enough. It's time for you to go back to prison. — Robin stepped in. Holding up one of his birdarangs.

— Well, if she's the one taking me to prison I wouldn't mind going back a million times. — The cocky grin returned to his face.

A new wave of strikes from him started, however this time he didn't seem to be interested in hurting you, he just seemed to want to provoke you, on the other hand, the attacks directed toward Robin were more aggressive.

You focused on dodging his attacks, making your way to him, knowing that Dick would be fine on his own, the cold enveloped your body and the ice on the ground made it difficult to move, you dropped your shield, seeking to focus the strength of your two hands on your sword.

You raised your sword once you were only inches away from him, the steel melted into the ice on his arm, and you dug your feet into the ground trying to maintain your stance despite how difficult it was because of the icy floor.

You fought, neither of you wanted to lose, yet Icicle Jr. wasn't using his full strength, and neither were you. — Wow, you look even prettier from this close. — A little shiver ran through your body at the compliment. — I’m Icicle Jr by the way, but you can call me Cameron. — You pulled away from him retracting your sword satisfied with having pierced the thick layer of ice on his arm.

You caught your breath and looked at him for a moment without letting your guard down. — Wonder Girl. — You introduced yourself, proud of the title you had earned with blood, sweat, and tears.

Cameron seemed surprised, his guard was left vulnerable for a moment and it was obvious that the Boy Wonder wouldn't let this opportunity slip away. He rushed towards his target, managing to connect a kick directly to his jaw, Icicle Jr fell back stunned by the attack, Robin threw a birdarang in his direction, the smoke from the explosion prevented you from seeing your enemy for a moment, but before the smoke dissipated an aggressive blast of ice shot out brushing your side, however, your teammate did not have the same luck.

Dick's back collided with the wall, his limbs wrapped in the ice causing a groan to echo through the walls.

— Robin! — You shouted, stunned for a moment. You turned to Icicle Jr. This time decided to use all your strength.

Although it would be ideal to help your teammate it wasn't a good idea to just back away from the enemy.

You swing your sword in front of you without taking your eyes off Cameron, despite your intimidating aura Icicle Jr simply seemed to enjoy the sight. You rushed at him, your strikes were quick and sharp, but you had to admit that Icicle Jr's defense wasn't all that bad. You felt a little nervous inside, Cameron's gaze piercing you from top to bottom.

Being watched so closely made you anxious, the tingling of nervousness distracted you from the fight, your strikes were no longer sharp and your movements were no longer quick; Cameron saw this and took advantage of it. Your sword was stuck again in the ice of his arm, but this time you were not fast enough, Cameron took his chance, the ice began to expand until it reached your wrists compromising your position; You panicked, maybe in other circumstances it would have been completely easy to break free, but the anxiety stopped you from thinking clearly.

— You have such beautiful eyes, doll. — His frosty breath collided against your skin, slowly your gaze raised only to realize how close your face was to Icicle Jr's.

You turned your face away in disgust, and again pulled back trying to shatter the ice that held you captive, but your attempts seemed to be useless, and Cameron seemed to be getting closer and closer; a ringing noise echoed in your head, none of your thoughts seemed to give you a solution to the situation and your body seemed to not answer; you could feel Icicle Jr's cold eyes visualizing you like you were a mere piece of meat, his icy breath pierced the exposed skin of your face getting closer and closer.

— Oh, don't be so shy doll. — His icy breath made its way to your ears, your face twisted in disgust. Even though you couldn't see his face you could imagine the shameless grin on his face.

Slowly the ice was beginning to crack, but not the ice that held you, and perhaps you would have realized that if the situation had been different. — That's enough! — The voice echoed through the place like a growl, it was authoritative and threatening enough to startle you.

Everything happened so fast that even for you it was difficult to process, in just a moment your body was pulled forward roughly, you put resistance digging your feet strongly into the ground, taking the opportunity to pull your sword once again, this time successfully breaking the ice and freeing yourself; a small whimper left your lips, your sword slipped between your fingers that were completely purple like the rest of your arm, only now that you had freed yourself you realized the pain that palpitated over your two upper limbs.

You didn't even bother to try to understand what was happening, the pain was stabbing and the shock was inevitable, your eyes managed to make out a figure moving closer to you, you tried to focus on his face. — Robin. — You whispered with relief.

— I'm sorry it took me so long to free myself from the ice. — The guilt was evident in his voice. — Let me see your arms. — His words were soft, his concern was obvious.

Even with your mind spinning you moved your arms towards him, you felt the leather of his gloves against your skin, making a small whimper leak from your lips, it was not something you couldn't handle, but the pain was there.

— Let me bandage you. — His voice was barely a whisper, yet his words were authoritative, treating your wounds was not up for discussion.

You nodded, too exhausted to refuse, your breathing slowly returned to normal, your mind was getting calmer and slowly things became clear, and you certainly couldn't help but feel ashamed of your poor performance in battle, Robin had finished the job for you, Icicle Jr's body lay unconscious on the ground, handcuffed and blindfolded, it didn't look like he was going to wake up any time soon.

Your disappointment seemed to be evident, or at least it was to Dick, under his mask his eyes remained focused on bandaging your arms, but he couldn't help but look back at your face here and there, his mind wondering to itself what was going through your head at that moment, but Dick knew you, he could read your eyes like a book, and right now he could only read helplessness and regret, two feelings he got to know very well when he was younger.

 — You did a good job, don't let that mortify you. — His voice was almost audible, and although you valued his words you found no comfort in them.

— I was paralyzed. — You replied. — If you hadn't been here I would have compromised the mission. — You said, perhaps too harshly, but for you, it was true.

— But you didn't. — Dick's eyes finally focused on you, your arms were now completely bandaged. — And you gave me enough strength to win the fight. — Your expression quickly changed from sternness to confusion.

— I didn't use my powers on you. — Was the only thing you could say.

— I know, but your presence is enough to give me the strength to win. — The smile that appeared on your face was inevitable as well as the warmth that reached your cheeks, and for Robin, it was inevitable not to smile with satisfaction at your reaction.

— Thank you. — You mumbled knowing he would hear you. You wouldn't say it out loud, but his attention and concern were something you enjoyed. — We should keep moving. — You turned away from him, only then realizing how close he was to you.

Richard watched your figure carefully, following your every move; you bent down to the ground, took your shield and placed it on your back, walked a couple of steps, and took your sword again, your grip on the handle was weak, your wounds still fresh, but your determination seemed to have returned, while Dick's seemed to be fading; you turned your back to him, ready to continue with the mission.

Dick's chest heaved with impatience, since that training Wally's words had not stopped running through his mind because he knew it was true; as he also knew that this was not the best moment, but despite his serene and calculating personality he was still a teenager, and could not avoid moments of impulsiveness like these where his emotions clouded his reason.

— Wait! — His words were faster than his thoughts. And his impulsiveness disappeared as soon as your eyes stopped on him, as hard as it was to happen, Robin was speechless.

You moved closer to him, your mind forgetting about the mission as you focused on him, finding his presence comforting, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

— Well... I don't know how to say this. — One of Robin's gloved hands moved to the back of his neck. Your eyebrows furrowed, it seemed so unusual to see Dick this way, hesitant and doubtful.  — But, I really like you. — A shy smile showed on his face as he looked at you expectantly.

You smiled innocently, believing he simply meant that he liked you in a friendly way, and even though your heart yearned for more, you appreciated the fact that he "liked you." You approached him, that dazzling signature smile of yours shining on your lips, making his heart beat faster than it already did.

You took his hands in yours as if your previous actions weren't enough to increase his nervousness. — Oh Robin, I feel the same way. — You said. Robin's eyes lit up under his mask and his smile simply spread. — You are a great friend, and an excellent teammate, it would be impossible not to like you.

Dick's smile faded completely from his lips, and his eyebrows drooped in sadness. — That's not what I meant... — The disappointment was more than clear in Dick's voice, yet he decided to go ahead with his confession. — I have romantic feelings for you. — His grip on your hands weakened with each of his words.

And suddenly everything around you stopped, and those words repeated in your head "Romantic feelings", what did you know about romance? Nothing. You were still young, and while it was true that at your age most young people already knew the feeling of love you did not. You had grown up in Themyscira, and for as long as you could remember the most important thing for you being there was your training, and you understood that you knew that your powers required control and training, but having trained from such a young age had robbed you of many opportunities. To live your childhood like any other child your age, to make friends, to explore the world, to develop your preferences, and to experience love.

The only thing you knew about love was the little your mentor had told you of her own experience. About the time years ago when she met the one she considered the love of her life, Steve Trevor. How they met, how he taught her about the world of humankind, how they fought a war together, and finally, how they fell in love; Diana told you everything, how she realized about her feelings, how her heart used to beat fast when she was near him, the trust and peace that his presence gave her, the feeling of wanting to protect him from danger.

And you knew, that what your mentor had felt for Steve Trevor was what you were feeling for Dick Grayson.

— I feel the same way... — You repeated, but this time the tone of your voice was different, softer and gentler, but confident, there was no uncertainty in your words.

You felt Robin's hands squeeze yours, not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to feel the warmth of his gloves through the bandage. Dick was clinging to his hopes, and his heart was beating fast in his chest, even though you were an open book, he found you hard to decipher at times, but he realized there was nothing to decipher at that moment, he just had to trust your words, as he always had.

His smile returned to his face, while yours only got bigger. — So… — Robin gathered the courage to speak again. — Are you free after this mission? — He asked, his trademark mischievous smile on his lips, and his usual confidence seemed to have returned to him.

Your chest jiggled with a peculiar feeling you weren't familiar with, but it didn't bother you, after all, you had gotten your own Steve Trevor... No, something even better, you had gotten your own Dick Grayson.

[babytaes]

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol), 

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

 “So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter,  I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung. 

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.” 

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later 

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.” 

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[mrwinterr]

Slippery, Smooth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 

Summary: Bucky gets a different kind of massage.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual but still unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], thigh riding, titty fuck, cum play).

Disclaimer: I want to put it out there that while nuru massages aren’t legal in the vast majority of the U.S. or the world, I’m not condoning the underlying motive of selling sex and/or prostitution. I apologize if this may offend anyone or the culture. I did my best to read about the origins and some modern experiences. A girl just watched porn and wrote this – that’s it.

** Author’s Note (8/13/20): Read a snippet of Part 2! **

“We’ll just need you both to fill out the paperwork for some information. Please check any of the services we offer then sign the waiver on the back and when you’re both done, we’ll show you to your rooms,” the young female receptionist answered with a friendly smile on her face.

Sam returns the gesture with a smile of his own and grabs the two white clipboards with the paperwork attached to them, carefully balancing the pens placed on top so they don’t roll off. On his left, was Bucky sporting a resting bitch face, clearly showing he was dragged into this before heading to a pair of unoccupied seats. The woman unbothered by his sour demeanor pays no offense believing he’s come to the right place to relieve the stress he isn’t aware he’s been harboring.

Except Bucky really doesn’t want to be here at the spa. He just happened to be caught while walking by some of his colleagues and apparently, Sam had been asking around for someone to check out the raving massage parlor on the market with him, but mostly because it was much more of a discount to book for two than one.

With some convincing from his more levelheaded companions, suggesting Bucky continue to go out and experience more modern things while also participating in the act of self-care, he begrudgingly agreed.

“Man, hurry up. Did you forget how to spell your name?” Sam nudged at him seeing as Bucky hadn’t even filled out the first line before putting the cap back on his pen, signaling he had completed his paperwork.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here.” Bucky mumbled enough just for Sam to hear. It wasn’t the establishment’s fault that he felt bothered.

He let out a big sigh, filled out the basic information and skimmed at the options of the services provided. His face scrunched. There were all kinds of massages that he hadn’t heard of and some were even in different languages. Luckily, this place offered a brief description of each type.

“Barnes!” Sam, who was standing in front of the receptionist desk again, said with a now firmer tone and sending Bucky a hard look. He was getting impatient. Bucky shook his head and looked back down at the paper. Try something new. He reminded himself.

Feeling slight pressure and the practical idea of the sooner he got through with this part of the process the sooner he’d be out of this place, Bucky hastily checks off something near the middle, a different type of massage he thought sounded nice. They all sounded nice, but there were so many, he didn’t bother to finish reading through or retain any significant aspects on each of them as they all became a jumbled mess of terms in his brain. Afterall, a massage is designed to make one feel good anyways. How far south could the option he selected go?

A few more minutes went by until another woman from behind the desk emerges and calls for the two men. The receptionist bids them a good time and carries on with the next guest. To both of their relief, Bucky and Sam are placed in separate rooms.

Guess he picked a different massage. Bucky thought to himself and looked around the dim lit room. Its walls adorned with tasteful foreign artwork, different sized candles and infused with a refreshed yet soothing scent that began overtaking his senses. The place was pristine.

The employee who escorted him to this room sets the clipboard on the nearby table and instructs Bucky to prep himself with a shower that was located in the corner. Before he could ask why that was a significant part of the massage, she told him once he was done washing himself, to lie on the massage table with only his towel on and to wait for his actual masseuse, who would arrive shortly, then she left closing the door behind her.

Not wanting to think too much into it, believing perhaps it was part of the experience or this place was just super hygienic, Bucky doesn’t waste time. The masseuse could walk in any moment, so he proceeds to undress, open the clear shower door and step in.

A few months ago, aside from the people he worked with or the ones he fought against, no one would be caught alone with Bucky – especially in a vulnerable state such as being half naked and with his metal arm on display. It took a lot of self-therapy and confidence and just plain not giving a fuck anymore mindset, but now here he was letting a complete stranger touch him and take more than a peek and gander at his body. If the doctors could see him now. On top of that, there had to be a level of professionalism here anyways, he was in good hands.

Once he’s thoroughly clean, he wraps the white, fluffy towel around his waist before hopping onto the massage bed. It was big, almost like it was built for two. That was a strange thought, but nonetheless he chose to also not dwell on that and was grateful it was big enough for his burly body. He scoots around a bit to find the center and lies down, trying to relax.

He turned his head to the side, eyes wandering at the counter full of supplies – massage oils, rocks, towels, soap, a box of condoms, gloves, more towels…wait. A box of condoms? What the hell? Bucky thought now a little puzzled before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling in front of him. He closes his eyes and tries to calm his nerves once more.

Just before Bucky dozed off, as if on cue, he hears the door open and quietly close with an extra click. You finally arrived. He peeks an eye open to see the back of your figure, hair tied loosely and in a short white robe. It clung on your body different, it had to be of silk. He opens both eyes just as you turn around.

You quickly glance at his clipboard before finally fixing your eyes on your next client. His metal arm certainly didn’t go unnoticed, but that wouldn’t be a problem at all. It might sound mean, but it was one less limb to work on. All that shoved aside, he was athletically built and geez, was he a sight. Keep it together. You began telling yourself over and over. You’re a professional.

It wasn’t likely you did these kinds of massages, nor did you partake in paid sexual services just strictly intent on the art of touch and healing, but this type paid handsomely, and the lights didn’t have to be on all the way to let you see that handsome was indeed right in front of you too. You introduced yourself to the man on the massage bed but got no response.

A quiet one. You thought, but quickly shrugged it off and decided to get right to it by pulling at the end of a tassel in the knot tied around your waist to begin disrobing.

Bucky, not anticipating interacting or to be touched intimately by someone so pretty was gravely distracted, it wasn’t until he saw the skin of your cleavage that he snapped out of it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky exclaims sitting up, “what are you doing?”

With a confused expression, you simply replied, “disrobing?” Then wearily proceeded to part the material to the side, but before you could reveal anything else, you heard another plea to stop.

“Wh-why?” Bucky was having a hard time trying to formulate words with the swell of your breasts peeking from behind your robe now in his view.

You turned and cocked your head a bit, still perplexed by his questions, “because it’s part of the massage.”

“Wha…what? Isn’t the person getting the massage supposed to be the one that’s…naked?” His mind was in a frenzy and that was kind of annoying you.  

“For a simple massage, yes.”

“What are we doing then?” He asked incredulously.

“A nuru massage.”

“Nuru massage?”

“Yes. A nuru massage is when one massages the other person’s body with their own.” You explained as calmly as you could. He was getting increasingly agitated and your job was to help others relax not add onto the stress.

Bucky shook his head frantically and looked away from you to stop his eyes from wandering too long on your body. He could tell you didn’t have anything else underneath. “This has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong room.”

You scoffed, covering yourself up again and snatching the clipboard on the nearby counter. “Aren’t you…James B. Barnes?” You skim over it before asking and turning the clipboard to prove to him that you were in the right room assigned to him.

He craned his neck forward to inspect the piece of paper he held not too long ago, his messy handwriting complete with his illegible signature staring right back at him.

“Well, yeah…”

“Then I have the right room and you checked off for a nuru massage.” You say crossing your arms as he took the clipboard from your hands to read more about what the massage actually entails.

“This-this can’t be legal though.” He said shaking his head and thinking about how it could even be acceptable for this kind of service without eliciting some sort of sexual stimulation from the other party. Bodies gliding against each other? It just couldn’t possibly go smooth or well…work.

“It’s not…” you replied like it’s a known fact but then were quick to respond seeing his eyes widening in overreaction, “in most areas of the world but it’s absolutely legal here!”

“But it’s basically pros-“ he didn’t even finish that last sentence catching himself when he saw your now offended expression.

Does this asshole really think he is going to just sit there and get away with downright calling you a prostitute?

“You don’t know shit about me,” you spat. Handsome or not, deciding he wasn’t as openminded as most people and harshly tied a new knot to the robe you were still wearing signaling you were about to walk out. He wasn’t worth the few extra digits to your paycheck.

“No! Wait!” He pleaded; guilt ridden. As he let out a deep sigh, you stayed put to hear him out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re right! I don’t know shit about you, but I also don’t know what a nuru massage is. I came here with a friend to help him get a good deal and I clearly wasn’t paying attention to what I signed up for.”

You nodded and decided to be civil since he was owning up to his mistake. “Okay. Apology accepted. I see why you freaked out, but you’re clearly not comfortable with the idea of this,” you responded while your hands helped convey your words, “so I can see what I can do to get you a refund,” and walked over to him to retrieve the clipboard.  

It would’ve taken a significant blow to your pay – losing a client for the day – but you weren’t going to put anyone in a situation they weren’t familiar or comfortable with.

“Well…” He spoke up, placing his right hand on top of yours causing you to look up at him.  

Wow, his eyes. They held the same color that reminded you of the kind water in a pool could reflect. The soothing kind of blue. You felt like you were glued to the spot, almost hypnotized.

“I mean I’m already here. I don’t want to take any business away from you. Again, I’m sorry I overreacted. What’s life without experience, right?”

And that deep voice... Shit, snap out of it! Remember, you’re a professional.

You gave him a small smile for his change of heart and willingness to try something new.

“Right,” you said forcing yourself to look away. Fuck, I hope I wasn’t staring for too long, “but I’m letting you know now, this isn’t a normal massage,” daring to look back at him for reassurance, “if at any moment you’re uncomfortable, we can change things up. Afterall, I’m very good with my hands.” You hoped to regain your composure with that last line. It wasn’t a lie though.

Bucky sends you a smile of his own before letting you go to lie back down properly, waiting for the next move. You cautiously disrobed without any protest from him. You noticed Bucky visibly swallowed the thick lump in his throat now that you were completely nude in front of him.

“Are you okay?” You were going to have to be patient with this one. He wasn’t going to be like any other you treated. It was easy for you to just stand there naked and you weren’t bothered by nudity at all, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is.

With a nod of his head, you reached for the towel to untuck the bunched-up portion at the side of his waist, mindful to not expose him of the slightest to spare him some modesty, while asking him to move just enough to let it rest on his body and cover his lower half like a blanket would.

You decided to let him keep his towel on for the time being and focus on his upper body. Next, you instructed him to turn and lie on his stomach, you’d start with his back first. You lifted the towel in a modest manner like you would for anyone so he could maneuver with ease. Once he settled in a comfortable position, you began the treatment.

“The word nuru stems from the Japanese term for slippery or smooth.” Talking to your clients was a technique most in your line of profession use to help distract or relax them to get the job done – that and it’s just good customer service showing that you care and know just what the fuck you’re doing.

You expertly jumped up onto the small space left on the bed to get into a straddling position on your knees hovering just over the small of his back and covered ass. Judging by the hump, it kind of looked nice to sit on.

“I’m going to start by applying nuru gel all over your body and mine, but we’ll start small, alright.” You carefully poured a generous amount of the warm massage gel in the palm of your hand lathering up your arms, chest, torso, thighs and fortunately you were flexible enough to reach parts of your back, but for parts you couldn’t, would transfer off his body to yours later on.

Scooping up a bit more, you watched as the gel dropped in a fine line and pool onto his back before beginning to spread it all over the expanse of his toned body in soothing motions. You started to gently press with your knuckles on the surface his muscles.

“The gel is actually made out of natural Nori seaweed,” you started explaining the colorless and odorless substance while progressing lower on his back with both hands, digging your thumbs near the lumbar region and compressing some of your weight down. You paid attention to specific areas of the body that draws the most tension. His body became visibly lax and less strained the more you worked your magic; soon enough Bucky was sure he would be putty in your hands.

Still perched up on your knees and not wanting to slip, you took initiative and just plopped down onto his plush yet firm backside. Even if a towel remained as a barrier between you both, you felt his glutes tense up underneath you, most likely having startled him. Trying to find a way to help him relax again, you tried to comfort him with more facts.

“It has other healthful benefits such as providing great moisturization to the skin,” you leaned down on your forearms and started an up and down repetition.

Your hands then travelled to his sides and you hoped he wasn’t ticklish before they met at the back of his neck to perform the simplest of massages ever. However basic as it might’ve seemed, felt like Heaven’s touch on Bucky’s end as he couldn’t help but let out a moan of satisfaction.

You were so good at it, working out all the kinks in his neck using your skilled fingers, he had to let out an approving moan after moan with each touch that hit the spot. The elicited sound racked through his body that you felt it reverberate all the way down to your core. You were crossing over a forbidden line, but that wasn’t letting you up. You had wanted to hear and feel that again.

“You’re really tense aren’t, you?” You comment continuing your handy work into the knots around his lower neck, slowly adding more pressure and testing his limits. His response was an even louder and deeper moan. Unknowingly, it caused you to shift, more like ground, your hips against his lower body. You mentally patted yourself on the back for keeping the towel there to absorb your juices. He didn’t need to try and figure out if it was the nuru gel or the sudden wetness pooling in you that his skin was swimming in.  

Then you lowered your entire body, your chest now pressed against his back. Your head was close to his, you could smell the scent of the soap the facility provided for the massage prep mixed with his own and you swore he smelled more relaxing than any stress-free candle or burning incense ever could.

Due to the close proximity, you spoke even softer right next to his ear, “the combination of the nuru gel and full body contact or the touch of another human help to release toxins from the body and boost the feelgood chemicals in the brain.”

You paired that piece of knowledge with sliding up and down his back, your hands trailing up his arms that were bent but sprawled above his hand, grasping at the front of his hands to briefly interlock them before letting them go to repeat the actions.

Deciding enough time was spent on the upper area, you carefully swung around, gathered a bit more gel and snuck your hands underneath the towel to glide up the hill of his ass. Without protest, you seized the moment and experimentally grabbed a handful of each cheek before releasing the flesh and sail further down to his muscular thighs. Oh, you wish you could see them, but reminded yourself to approach each step with caution with him.  

The towel still restricted you from attending to his calves, so you pulled your hands back out and scooted up to pull the towel up from the other end and treat them with the same amount of attention. After that treatment was done, you had him revert to his original position on his back.

As he settled, you reached over to pour some more gel and help slicken his front half.

“Interesting fact, nuru massages originated in Japan as a disguise to pay for sexual services,” you say as your hands spanned across the planes of his pecs, “but nuru massages are much more than an erotic massage.”

“How so?” Bucky asked genuinely curious because he was having a hard time trying to strain his cock from hardening. Thankfully for him, you were seated on his lower abdomen and barely inches away from his member.

“Think of them as more so sensual than sexual.”

Accepting that outlook, Bucky had to ask, “how did you get into…this?”

You knew he meant performing nuru massages and not your career in general, “I took a trip to Japan during a break from studying,” you replied and now tracing the lines of his abs. That sort of action, so close to his dick, created a ghostly tingle to run down Bucky’s lower region.

Counting each one of his abs to help distract you from the twitch of his cock that he thought you probably didn’t feel hit you, you continued your story, “like you, I also didn’t know what I signed up for either.”

With your breasts out in front of him squished between your upper arms as you continued to rub him and all slick from the gel, your skin seemed ever so inviting for him to touch, but he refrained from doing so. There was really no way to avoid getting aroused with this kind of massage. He was about to give up the fight. He needed to relax, right?

“Um, how-how was…he?” He asked trying to not ask awkwardly. You smiled noting he was having a hard time trying to look at your face and not your boobs. A guy like this at your fingertips? What woman’s ego wouldn’t be boosted? You had control.

Keeping in mind he is new to this, but also that the vitality of full body contact in this massage, you treated his front half to the same tactic you used on his back by laying your body flat on his.

“She was amazing,” you answered, your face now close to his you could feel the warmth of his breath puff out as he tried to regulate his breathing. The close proximity allowing you to feel the beat of his heart. You noticed the bob of his throat to that reveal, two women all oiled up.  

“She taught me a lot of moves actually.” An innocent anecdote produced a whine from Bucky that he felt ashamed of slip out. Okay, maybe you got to bring it back down. “The first time I ever performed a nuru massage, I almost slipped off the massage table!”

What you hoped for was to lighten the mood, you didn’t expect was for him to bust out laughing at you. The sudden outburst took you by surprise that you almost reenacted the shared memory, but Bucky was quick to catch you with his left arm before you fell. His arms encased around you as he turned on his back with you now lying parallel, legs between his now parted ones underneath the towel that still managed to stay on.

“Oh my God,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck, not giving a damn that the massage gel would get on your face. That first fall from your past was one of the most embarrassing moments of your career and here you were about to relive it or perhaps create one that would top it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said tucking you in his arms as his flesh hand ran up and down the curves of your slick back, the metal one resting just above the curve of your ass. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you’re so poised and professional, having to imagine you being that clumsy took me off guard.”

Your eyes drifted down and noticed the scarred tissue of his skin that divided the metal from him. He probably ached there sometimes. You made a mental note to fit his arm somewhere in your routine.

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” you admitted looking at him. Your eyes lingering at his pink lips that were parted. He brushed a strand of your hair away and cupped your face. You leaned into his hand and if he didn’t know it, you were the one that was putty in his hands.

Earning yourself another beautiful smile from him you got back into position. “Do you mind?” You ask referring to the towel. Having spent some time with you and seeing a more vulnerable side, he shook his head and let you rip the towel from beneath you and drop it to the floor.

“It’s okay to get hard,” you said trying to address the elephant in the room. You watched him stammer with his words, “it’s perfectly natural. Remember, this massage is designed to tease your senses and bring your body to full ecstasy.” Your now pressed against him again, rubbing your body up and down, hands trailing upwards to let your fingers intertwine with his again.

Feeling your breasts glide up just enough to stop under his chin, he kept tilting his head back as if he was neck deep in water, but if he was being honest, he would rather just drown in them at this point. Bucky tries to remain calm even if you assured him that getting aroused during a massage was a common occurrence.

“Relax, James,” you said releasing one of his hands to cradle his head and set it in a regular position. You just made it a point to not practically motorboat the poor guy.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, “please just call me Bucky. James is too formal.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you confirm by pressing your forehead against his.  

Not taking your eyes off each other, you glided down a few inches so you’re face-to-face with the junction of the skin and metal and began leaving light feather kisses to the sensitive area. Adding a little squeeze to the flesh hand that was still in your grasp, Bucky felt his heart soar a bit. You, so unperturbed by the once traitorous appendage, were so gentle and the level of intimacy you carried, he wondered if you were like this to your other clients. He felt like a damn fool for falling for your every move.

“Are most of your clients men?” Bucky wondered.

“No. I don’t limit my services to just men. Most times, my favorite are the women. Nuru is open for anyone of any gender or sexual orientation.”

You slithered down again until you trapped one of his thighs between your legs. Lord, give me the strength to not cum. You prayed and begun rocking your hips almost sinfully.

Fuck, was this part of her normal routine? Bucky asked himself but wouldn’t deny the combination of her wet pussy and its soft lips gliding along his thighs felt good. Not to mention the way your hands grip at the grooves of his Adonis belt, nails slightly digging into his skin, watching your hips move. He didn’t miss the look on your face, eyebrows knitted in concentration and your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth.  

“Do you enjoy this too?”

You knew what he was going for. Did you get a rise out of this? You regained control of your body and shrugged, “I mean, touch is therapeutic in some cases, but if you’re wondering, most places or depending on the masseuse have modified nuru massages.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not everyone gets a happy ending.” You were a masseuse specialist and not in a line of sex. It was the most misconstrued thing about it. Noticing the look on his face, you concluded that he must’ve not known the term “happy ending.”

“Sex. A happy ending is what usually culminates from a nuru massage,” you cleared the air. It was adorable to see the surprised look on his face. Yet, underneath the sheen line of sweat that had built up on his forehead, Bucky was internally relieved to hear that you didn’t actually partake in any sexual penetration or acts from this type of massage.

Okay, maybe that number on his thigh wasn’t part of your routine. You’d never been that needy. Before you could fly off the edge, you didn’t even peg yourself to be a sadist and actually edge yourself. You wondered if you could fully set ethical standards aside and go through it.

You set that same leg between your breasts and strategically slid from up his thigh before stopping just below the waist to keep his rather endowed member confined.

“You know, it’s a shame the reputation that nuru massages have,” you started, pushing your boobs together with your hands. You felt his cock jolt at the contact, “the first thing that comes to people’s minds in terms of nuru is fucking porn, but nuru has its benefits.”  

“Like what?” Bucky asks breathily as you started practically titty fucking him. Is she serious? Are we in a porno? He thought seeing as there’s no way he was going to not cum any second.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, it’s proven to help couples spice up their love lives and even repair them.”

“H-how?” He tried to keep up with conversation, but it was so hard, he was so hard, as he watched his cock disappear and reappear from between the depths of your breasts. He hoped you hadn’t noticed that his pre-cum had been aiding in the slickness as it mixed in with the nuru gel. You were warm and soft and slick…and he wasn’t even buried deep in your pussy.

“I think you can guess one of the factors, but it’s more than just a physical connection, really,” you explain and release him. You move back up, body once more parallel to his, your hands smearing more of the gel around his chest, “it allows for one to feel more comfortable in their own skin and even create new sensations.”  

“Almost sounds like a spiritual journey,” he said with seriousness his eyes meeting yours.

“It can be,” you responded with. You were so close to his face again. Not sure how long you sat there staring at him, but as ironic as it was, the setting in a massage parlor, one with a purpose to help the other, you both seemed to create a new kind of tension. A tension that was almost too thick you feared it wasn’t something your hands could resolve.

You stared down at his enchanting features, soft, pink lips that were parted, cute nose, the half-lidded eyes but that still shone from the blue that managed to peek out. Your hands trailed up to touch his face. He was so tempting.

Fuck it. All caution thrown out the window, your lips crashed against his. It wasn’t bruising nor soft, but enough to cut the tension that had built up in the room. To your astonishment, he didn’t object to your advances and pressed his lips back to yours and opening up wider to let you slip your tongue in. He caught your tongue in his mouth with his lips and enclosed around the muscle, sucking on it, causing you to gasp and pull away breathlessly.

You push yourself up just enough to get a full look at him with your hands on his chest. A slight nod of his head was all you needed to dive back in. Your lips massaged against his as you both kissed with such fervor, your hands threading into the short locks of his hair slightly pulling at what you could grasp in your fingers. The echoes of his moans and the light tap of his cock that had twitched in response against your lower abdomen was a dead giveaway sign that he liked that.  

However, the continue rocking of your body against his, wasn’t going to help alleviate his raging hard on. It was pressed so hard in between you, it almost felt embedded into your skin. You slithered back down, leaving a trail of kisses from the column of his neck, chest – even managing to teeth at one of his nipples tauntingly – the line between his abs until you were met with the tip of his cock, which was unashamedly leaking.

You jeered around his head, placing lightweight kisses down the side of his cock, purposely avoiding the large vein on the underside, to his balls. Your eyes never leaving Bucky’s, who had his head propped under his flesh arm to watch you. Your hands still slick with the gel, you started to fondle him before taking them, one at a time, in your warm, wet mouth to gently suck on.

You weren’t sure who lost the staring contest this time between you two, but his head lulled back at the sensation and yours closed shut, full of him and savoring the taste of his skin. Pulling away with a pop, you wrapped a hand around his shaft to let his cock stand at full attention.

Bucky finally opened his eyes and picked his head back up to look at you just in time to watch you smear his pre-cum all over your lips and swallow him. You downed as much of his cock as you could before hollowing your cheeks and coming back up with your tongue dragging across the underside of him, bobbing up and down.

Without a warning, you pull away for a brief moment, a string of mixed fluids leave a web trail from him to you, “It’s okay to touch me, Bucky,” you say stroking his cock but also noticing his hands had been gripping onto the edge of the bed and hoping to encourage him to fully give in to his desires.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice as his hands found purchase in your hair pushing you back down his cock. He let out a loud groan when he felt the tip of your nose bury in the soft hairs of his happy trail. You weren’t expecting that kind of aggression from him, it caused you to involuntarily gag around him. Your throat constricting around his cock only caused him more indisputable pleasure he jut his hips up, lodging himself even further.

When you pulled away again, this time with your own saliva and his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes were slightly red and tearstained. Your ragged breathing, lips glistening and swollen, hair matted against your face. You looked so fucked, so raw.

He pulled you up to him once more, your legs instinctively setting on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering just over his cock that lied resting on his stomach. He wiped at your chin before kissing you, his tongue darting all around the wet cavern of your mouth and tasting himself. Something about that was so filthy yet so erotic.

Your legs spread further apart, and you pressed yourself against his cock. The contact causing you both to draw out loud moans. You did your best to drag your sopping folds along his stiff member, but the bed had become so slippery, you were finding it hard to pull yourself back up on your knees. Bucky must’ve picked up on the small struggle as he grabbed handfuls of your ass to help aid you in sliding your pussy up and down his cock.

You could feel just how hard he was and the underside and ridges of the head of his cock scraping against your clit, pulled all sorts of tremors from your body. You were a whimpering mess, clinging onto Bucky’s body trying to find your footing, but your senses were on overdrive.

“I know, it’s your job to make me feel good,” he said continuing to rut up against you, “but go ahead…just let go.” Oh, how he would love to watch you unravel and you weren’t one to deny him. You wildly came undone, from the buildup of riding his thigh and now this, you gushed all over his cock.

Wrecked, you knew this was far from over. Once you reclaimed control of your senses, Bucky at your full attention, you snaked a hand between your bodies and lifted yourself up to position his eager cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you said trying your best to dominate the situation and started teasing yourself, “…do you want a happy ending,” you asked seductively, licking his lips and your eyes never leaving his.

His heartbeat accelerated with each running pass of the tip of his cock made through your folds. If his ending was right here on this massage bed, he’d take it because you were a fucking tease. The string of curses that flowed out his mouth caused a smirk to form on your lips.

You felt his metal hand grab yours shoving it away, enough of your teasing, he repositioned himself at your hole, gripped your hips and slid right in you with ease. You internally applauded the designers of the building for making each room soundproof because let’s face it, no one wants to hear how good the person next door is feeling – especially not like this, not the sounds you and Bucky were producing.

Each slide up and down his thick length, Bucky found himself almost fully engulfed by your breasts again. He stopped you for a moment so he could finally get his mouth on them, but you weren’t about to catch a break. No. Bucky instead planted his feet on the bed and began thrusting up into you almost too vigorously, but you sucked it up. Letting him use you to work out his frustrations.

Then you sat up, hands sprawled on his chest and started grounding your hips. The way his cock swiveled with each rotation you made, had you reeling as the tip just barely kept hitting that spot.

Bucky straightened out his legs from behind you and managed to sit up, cradling the small of your back and gently laying you down.

“Slow down, baby,” he says trying to contain the relentlessness drive you had on fucking him by keeping your hips at bay, so he pulled out resulting in a displeased noise to come out of you.

He just needed to get into a new position, on his knees, your right leg hoisted up on his shoulder while he pushed down on the other to spread your legs further apart, just for him to easily plunge back into your wet heat and drawing out long and satisfied moans from you both.  

“Fuck, it feels so good. You’re so good, Bucky,” you whined.

“I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he chuckled almost breathlessly, coming down and placing his lips on yours with a kiss that had your head swimming. He pulled back to take a look down, loving the sight of him snug inside your warm walls. With his flesh hand, he pressed his fingers onto your clit, rubbing harsh circles, you grabbed and clawed at his forearm at the immense pleasure, eyes widening because it was proving to be too much.

The twisting coil that was settling in you suddenly snapped. With a loud rough moan, you were uncontrollably quaking beneath him, you knew Bucky couldn’t be far away from you. His bruising grip on your thighs and the faltering thrusts of his hips from your walls squeezing at him repetitively, he finally let go, emptying himself until he was sure he was completely spent. Fuck, and you loved feeling his cum shoot deep in you.

Watching his abdominal muscles contract with every breath, he pulled out and tried to regain his breathing, but before he could collapse, he used his last remaining ounce of strength to pull you up and back down with him on the other end of the massage bed.  

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you this time short of breath. You managed to let out a tiresome laugh and pathetically slapped his chest, but knew it was to no avail with what little energy you had left.  

Several moments later, you both had calmed down and were prolonging the inevitable end. Bucky watched as you absentmindedly traced the outline of his metal arm. He longed for someone that was raw in nature, confident and there you were – walking into his life by mistake. He wasn’t sure where you stood aside from a physical standpoint, but he strangely craved for more.

You managed to stand back up on your own feet and drag Bucky back into the shower to clean off. You helped each other wash off the gel and mixed juices, with a few kisses shared here and there riddled along with soft sweet praises.

After helping you wipe down the bed and tidy up the room, Bucky couldn’t help but realize he felt good. Gone was the grumpy man that came against his own will. He definitely felt refreshed and his body felt great. This place really was all that it cracked up to be and he was just lucky enough to be assigned to you.  

“What?” You asked catching him starting just as you slipped your robe back on.  

“I want to see you again,” he says getting up from the bed.

You smiled at that. No one has ever made you feel that good. Your bodies seemed to be in sync with one another. Plus, during that last shower, you deduced that he could be a big softie when he wanted to be.

You wanted to see him again too and you would let him.

~

Once Bucky stepped back into the lobby, his peace of mind was shattered when he heard Sam yell. “Finally!” He watched as his friend threw the magazine he wasn’t really reading aside and stand up with a loose smile on his face. “How do you feel, man?”

“Amazing.” Bucky’s tone was audibly smoother and calm as opposed to earlier.  

“Good! You were in there for a long time. I don’t know what massage you chose, but whatever they did on you...I’m glad it knocked out that attitude of yours,” he says as if he didn’t have one before his massage.  

“Whatever. You’re exaggerating.”

“I even left to get something to eat and you were still in there!”

Shit. Were you both really that long? Was that normal? To Bucky it didn’t seem so. In fact, he wanted more time with you.

They both approach the same receptionist from earlier, who now donned a subtle smug disposition seeing the change in complexion on Bucky.  

“Would you like to leave a tip?” She asked Bucky politely and just before he could say yes, he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s good! He’s all taken care of,” you quickly interjected, popping out of nowhere and effectively grabbing Bucky’s attention one more time with a sweet smile. You wanted to be the last thing he saw when he walked out that door. Bucky didn’t even hear Sam ask how in the world he got you as his masseuse.

Your co-worker nodded understandingly before turning to Sam to ask if he’d like to book another visit.

“Yeah…when is she next available?” Sam asks the receptionist while looking at you. You hadn’t managed to only grab Bucky’s attention, but also his friend.

How Bucky hadn’t noticed it before everything was beyond him. You had a certain glow that was very alluring. He wondered if it was possible for anyone to look away from you or not smile in your presence.

Something Bucky failed to conceal was the rising discomfort he was feeling hearing the suggestive tone in Sam’s voice when speaking about you mixed with a small bubble of anxiety on if there was a possibility that he’d get to be alone in a room with you.  

Before Sam could get a definite answer, you looked to your co-worker at the front desk, grinned at each other and then back over at the two men.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m booked,” sending a wink towards Bucky and disappearing to the back.  

A/N: I work in digital marketing and what with all the searching I did I’m now paranoid that I’ll be targeted for a massage…even though I could use one. I did my best to proofread. Let me know if you liked it! 

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Partners (Blaine x MC)

Notes: It’s been a while since I’ve actively written anything besides my three series, so I wrote this to A. Reintroduce writing into my life and find my style again and to B. Write something new, fresh and engaging so I don’t get bored and suffer from writing burnout. I know people have been patiently waiting for my series, and I do promise I am working on them but the burnout from last semester, along with a few other things have left me in one of the worst writing blocks ever and with little to no motivation to do anything. (Please gently bully me into writing them - it helps me motivate myself) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this quick little drabble - I loved the dynamic between Blaine and MC but I felt PB really squandered it with FA so I want to eventually compensate for the entire series. I might write a part two or I might just leave it as a cute open-ended one shot. 

Pairing: Blaine x F!MC (Kennedy) (Gender Neutral Blaine)

Words: 1552 words

Kennedy strolled into the lecture hall with Dionne, the chattering of students and occasional shushing of Professor Masako filling the lecture hall. Kennedy and Dionne took their seats in the back left side of the hall, in perfect sight with the board as the rest of the class found their seats, Professor Masako clearing his throat and beginning to lecture as the back door opened. Blaine sneakily slid into the back left of the room, taking a back seat and sitting on their phone as Professor Masako and Ayna explained the first class project - a mock union with students representing their own countries but modified with different laws, ethics, and adapted cultures. Ayna began listing off partners for the assignment, Dionne and Peter, Alexei and Evelyn, Henri and Zaira...

“And that leaves….Kennedy Monroe and Blaine Hayes. You two will be partners for the mock union”

Ayna’s voice faded into the background as Kennedy met eyes with Blaine, their eyes locking in a heated gaze as Dionne tilted her head in worry. 

“Maybe you can ask Ayna to switch your partner…” Dionne cut in, trying to ease the newfound tension that filled the lecture hall as eyes flooded to Kennedy and Blaine. 

“There will be no switching partners, no exceptions.” 

“Oh. Well...Blaine’s not that bad...it’s just your countries that are fighting…” Dionne toned her voice back to a faint whisper as Kennedy huffed in frustration, angrily packing her bag and striding out of the lecture hall, barely giving Dionne time to follow. 

“Come on Kennedy, it’s politics...you’re not your country…” Dionne’s heels clicked as she raced to catch up with Kennedy, who was making a beeline for the library. 

“Dionne, I know you’re just trying to help, but I’m so frustrated right now I just need to be left alone. I’m sorry.” Kennedy sighed and placed a hand on Dionne’s shoulder, glancing behind her head to make sure Murphy wasn’t planning her murder for it. 

“No, I understand and I appreciate your communicative skills. I’ll see you at home. Don’t be late - I’m making brownies.” Dionne smiled softly, her usual princess smile that would cause anyone to smile back. 

Kennedy walked to the back corner of the library, seating herself in the comfortable leather chair and pulling out her laptop with the intent on starting and finishing the entire presentation before Blaine got involved. She hastily typed away, eventually leaving to order a coffee at the built in starbucks at the center, only to return to her spot ten minutes later - with Blaine seated in her chair. 

“What are you doing here? Go away.” Kennedy growled as her grip on her coffee tightened ever so slightly. 

“Whoa, what’s with the hostility Rutherland? I’m here because we’re partners...partners work together.” The twinkle in Blaine’s eyes gave Kennedy butterflies, but she’d never admit that, at least not to Blaine - ever. 

“Well then you can do the last 15 slides, deal? I want to minimize our time together.” Kennedy clenched her jaw as Blaine scanned over her laptop, being bold enough as to view her progress so far and critiquing it. 

“Well, this isn’t wrong but your wording is a bit choppy, and the visuals aren’t very captivating. Maybe adding some animation or statistics may increase our probability of-”

“Wow...so you can be productive and get down to business.” Kennedy smiled at Blaine, before sipping her coffee to cover it so Blaine couldn’t make any snide remarks. 

“To defeat the huns.” Blaine smirked as Kennedy rolled her eyes.

“You mean to defeat the Ardonians?” Kennedy commented back with a sly smirk as Blaine raised their brows, amused by Kennedy’s banter. 

“An hour of horny sex followed by some rooftop stargazing would end all conflicts between our countries.” Blaine spoke with a straight face as Kennedy nearly spit her coffee out. 

“I’m sorry what?”

“Nothing, you have no interest in resolving the conflict between our countries...oh...it’s okay…” Blaine whined and slouched in the chair dramatically as Kennedy forced a disgusted reaction, disregarding the butterflies in her stomach and the fact that her palms were growing sweaty. 

“That’s...we would never!” It came out more desperate than Kennedy had expected, Blaine’s lips curling into a sinister smile as Kennedy felt her cheeks turn red.

“Never what? Have hot, heavy and horny sex on the library roof?” Blaine stared right at Kennedy, their eyes locking in a heated exchange as Blaine eventually stood and moved closer to Kennedy. 

“No! I mean yes! Can we just finish the project?” Kennedy stuttered as Blaine leaned over her, their charming smile and perfect hair throwing all work based thoughts out of Kennedy’s head. For a moment Kennedy thought they were going to kiss, but Blaine took a step back and fell into the other leather chair as Kennedy relaxed. 

“I’m just messing with you Rutherland, we should finish the project. I know you don’t want to work with me.” Blaine sighed and pulled out their laptop as their eyes scanned the screen and their fingers typed away. 

“Yeah...okay…” Kennedy finally sat back into her chair, which was thrown off by Blaine’s weight from when they were sitting in it. 

Hours passed, the night came and the light from the windows eventually became dim moonlight, and the light stemmed from the mildly lit chandeliers that hung from the library's ceiling. Kennedy’s stomach began to rumble which caught Blaine’s attention. 

“Are you hungry Rutherland?” 

“Nah, I can eat when we finish this.”

“Your body needs food, I can hear your stomach from here.”

“Okay well I didn’t bring food with me and I’d rather finish the project.”

“You’ll be more focused and diligent with a full stomach, come on let’s go get food and then we can finish this project.” 

“No, we can finish it now, plus you don’t care about me Blaine.”

“I never said that, don’t put words in my mouth Rutherland, but please let me put some food in your mouth.”

“You’re one stubborn headass aren’t you?”

“The best.”

“Fine, food and then we finish this project.”

“Finally, come on.” Blaine hurried to pack and leave, Kennedy cautiously following behind as their bodyguards trailed behind at a 10 foot distance. 

“Where are we going for food, isn’t everything closed at this hour?”

“My apartment.”

“No.”

“Come on, you said you’d get food. Plus if we want to finish this tonight we have to stick together.”

“Fine. But nobody finds out.”

“That embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“No it’s-”

“Politics. I know, come on then. Let’s go before anyone sees us.”

Blaine opened the door as Kennedy and Tatum stepped inside. The apartment was simple yet elegant, but the decor made both Tatum and Kennedy shift - Ardonian patterns were subtly tied into most of the designs, with a large Ardonian flag hanging above the archway that led to Blaine’s bedroom.

“This is a nice apartment, aside from the choice of decor I would say I like the design.”

“Thanks, make yourself comfortable.” Blaine tossed their backpack onto the couch and strided to the kitchen as Kennedy plopped onto the couch, the rustling of pots and pans following shortly after. 

Kennedy pulled out her phone, texting Dionne that she wasn’t going to be back until the morning, to which Dionne teased her before saying goodnight. 

“Order up.” Blaine offered Kennedy a plate with steak tips, mixed greens and corn - a Rutherland trademark.

“Blaine you made...Rutherland’s most well known dish?” Kennedy’s heart skipped a beat, did Blaine make her her own country's food out of courtesy?

“Well...you said you’d eat and...I think I already pushed it enough with the whole stubborn act...I’ll get you to try Arodnian food some other time...right now I’d rather deal with a happy Kennedy.”

“Blaine...that...that’s really sweet. Thank you.” Kennedy took the plate and dug in, Blaine watched her carefully for a moment before turning back and getting a plate for themselves, eventually sitting next to Kennedy on the couch.

“It’s not bad for an Arodnian.” Kennedy jested as she nudged Blaine in the side, both of them chuckling softly.

“Thanks, but next time it’s Ardonian food.” Blaine smiled and bit into a steak tip as Kennedy spoke softly.

“Next time?”

“Well yeah...we have to finish the project right?”

“Blaine once this project is over we...probably shouldn’t hang out around each other…” Kennedy whispered as Blaine sat their plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah you’re probably right but...maybe I wanted to harass you again…”

“Oh? Did the ever so stubborn and mildly annoying Blaine want to hang out with Rutherland’s first daughter a bit more? It’s already pretty scandalous that I’m at your apartment on a Friday night at 11 pm.” 

“I could think of more scandalous things we could be doing, but I suppose working on a class project will have to suffice.”

 Kennedy felt it again, the butterflies in her stomach, the tingle between her legs and the pounding of her heart beneath all her clothes. 

“Anyways...we should finish the-” Kennedy stifled a yawn as Blaine sat up from the couch, wrapping her in a blanket and turning out the lights. 

“Night Kennedy.” Blaine sighed and retreated into their room as Kennedy’s exhaustion overtook her.

[hermannsthumb]

If you’re still doing summer prompts, could you do graduation for newmann?

15. Graduation

from (the very old) summer prompts meme here

enjoy some awkward pre-canon jaeger academy ~ROOMMATES~!! also I am pretty sure this message/prompt is from at least a year ago (if not TWO) but it was only today that I really thought about what I wanted to write for it and wrote in like a FRENZY. content warning for alcohol (no like intoxication tho)

--------

It was hardly to be expected that Newton would be mature over the whole thing, but Hermann finds himself in a perpetual state of agitation the final weeks of their enrollment at the Jaeger Academy anyway. Newton was very young, Hermann knows, when he graduated from university (at least he was young the first time he graduated), and he can only assume the man took it rather hard that he didn’t get to have the proper send-off he thought he deserved—all-night parties with kegerators and beer pong, one-dollar shots at dive bars, trips to the seaside with classmates. One wasn’t likely to invite someone who’d barely breached his teens and still had braces to those sorts of things, after all. It’s the only reason Hermann can think of as to why Newton has spent the month—the whole month—popping open champagne at all hours and organizing spin-the-bottle in the base rec room and generally being a great bloody nuisance to everyone they have the misfortune of sharing their graduating class with. Over-compensation is what it is.

Having Newton as his bunkmate adds a special level of unbearableness to it all. At least—and Hermann does thank the stars above for this—tomorrow marks the end of a very miserable month. A very miserable two years.

“Everyone is going to be there,” Newton says. He’s wearing an oversized pair of neon sunglasses over his regular glasses, for some reason, those abhorrently dated kind with the slatted lenses, and dangling from his left hand are two bottles of pink champagne. A bag of plastic cups dangles in the other. “Everyone. Not even just the k-scientists—the techs, the ranger trainees, the—”

“That all sounds very thrilling,” Hermann says, hefting a stack of button-ups into a cardboard box he’s labeled Clothing – Gottlieb. “You’re aware, I assume, that we’re meant to be moving out tomorrow, and you’ve not touched anything on your side of the room?”

“Dude, I have sooo much time,” Newton says. Hermann realizes now the seal on one of the champagne bottles is broken—which might explain some of Newton’s suspiciously carefree mood. “Besides, I barely even have that much shit here.”

This is patently untrue. Newton’s clothing is overflowing from his dresser; manga and monster action figures and vinyl records clutter up every inch of its top surface; there’s laundry under his bed, on his bed, his guitar picks on Hermann’s bedside table, dirty mugs on his own, half-finished reports and articles scattered over his desk… “Fine,” Hermann says. “But I haven’t finished, at any rate, so I won’t be joining you.”

Newton flops down next to him on his bed; the stopper on the opened champagne bottle wobbles dangerously, and Hermann moves quickly to push it in more firmly so he doesn’t have to add a load of bed linens to his To-Do list. “I think you need to unwind, roomie,” Newton says, grinning up at him. Both pairs of his glasses have slipped off his nose and onto Hermann’s bedspread. “We’ll have all day tomorrow after the dumb ceremony to pack, and you haven’t taken a break in, like, seven years. You’ve earned one.”

Hermann doesn’t want to take a break, or at least not in the way Newton is suggesting. Hermann wants to finish packing up his half of the room, then his designated workspace in the large k-science laboratory, and then take a shower to wash himself of the experience of being Newton Geiszler’s roommate and labmate for two years too many. Noticing his reticence, Newton adds, pleadingly, “Come for one hour? Just to do two shots with me? One shot?” He blinks, half-blind without his glasses, as if trying to discern whether or not Hermann looks likely to give in. “No shots? C’mon, Hermann, you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Hermann says, frowning.

Newton nudges him with the stack of plastic cups. “Y’know—for the sake of your ol’ penpal,” he says.

The reference to their letter-writing days jars Hermann, and despite his best efforts not to show it to Newton, his hand trembles as he deposits an unopened pack of white socks into his laundry box. He thinks it may be the first time either of them have brought it up in the entirety of their time at the Academy. It’s certainly the first time either of them have admitted to even the slightest notion of a shared history since—a week into their first year here, at an ice-breaking event for their kaiju-science peers—Newton had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly when someone attempted to introduce him to Hermann and said “Yeah, Dr. Gottlieb and I go wayyyy back.” Hermann did not admit so at the time, but the use of the honorific in place of his first name had been unexpectedly wounding—ridiculous of him, considering he made a point of referring to Newton in precisely the same way. Perhaps that little slip of the tongue had been why they were assigned as roommates scarcely a week later. An assumed friendship.

Hermann picks up Newton’s thick eyeglasses and carefully slips them back onto Newton’s upside-down face. Newton wrinkles his nose when Hermann’s thumb accidentally brushes against its tip. “I just don’t like parties very much, Newton,” he says. He’s not sure when Dr. Geiszler became Newton to him, or rather, became Newton to him again.

“Then we can do something together here,” Newton says.

He sits up and pushes the sealed champagne bottle at Hermann’s chest. “This is for you, anyway. Graduation present. Bury the hatchet, you know—odds are pretty fucking high we’re never gonna see each other again, so there’s no use hating each other forever.”

In spite of his better judgement, Hermann takes the champagne bottle. One drink won’t hurt him. And anyway, it might be a little relaxing—so long as it’s one drink only, because he still has an entire two years’ worth of research to pack away in his laboratory desk. “Do you know where you’re being assigned already, then?” he says. He was under the impression they wouldn’t find out until after the ceremony tomorrow—bit last minute, he supposes, but it’s not as if they’re making their own travel arrangements, and nearly all of their colleagues have already brought their families along with them to the Academy base.

“Nah,” Newton says, “but I wrote down a lot on my request form.” He motions for Hermann to hand him back the bottle, and he begins unscrewing the wire holding down the cork. “Tokyo—Peru—" He moves the bottle away from the bed as he pops it open with a grunt of effort, and a small bit of foam spills to the cement floor. Hermann grits his teeth and tries not to worry about cleaning it up later. “—Los Angeles. I worked on one of my PhDs in California, you know, a few weeks one July. Sea sponges. I learned how to scuba dive, I loved it—I think that’s one of the first things I’m gonna do if—once this is all over.”

He looks strangely maudlin as Hermann pours himself some champagne into one of the plastic cups and suffers through a sip. Too sweet. Hermann’s never liked sweet wines—bloody awful hangovers the next day, if one isn’t careful.

“Their entire ecosystem would be destroyed now, I guess,” Newton says. “Kaiju blue poisoning.”

“Whose?” Hermann says.

“The sea sponges’,” Newton says.

Hermann sips more of the champagne so he won’t have to respond. “I requested Anchorage,” he offers. Among plenty others, but he knows Newton will get a kick out of ribbing him for the dreary Alaskan climate. It seems to work—Newton lights up at once with a loud snort.

“Of course you did, ya weirdo,” he says. “Have fun freezing your ass off.” He takes a sip right from his bottle, then holds it out to Hermann. “Well, Hermann—you were an annoying lab partner, an even more annoying roommate, but a decent penpal, and I’m—well, I’m not gonna miss you, but I guess I can’t say I hate everything about you. Good luck with the jaegers. Good luck to whoever gets stuck with you next, actually, yikes, don’t envy them! Here’s to never seeing each other again.”

Hermann rolls his eyes, but knocks his plastic cup against Newton’s bottle. “Best of luck to you, as well,” he says. “And here’s to—well, surviving.”

“That’s cheerful,” Newton says.

They drink to their toast. Down the hall, someone puts on loud music to a chorus of equally loud cheers. Hermann reckons that’ll be Newton’s party. “You ought to head over there,” he says, turning briefly to glance at their door, which Newton has left cracked open. “Otherwise, they’ll miss—”

Newton kisses him.

Hermann doesn’t necessarily kiss back, but he doesn’t push Newton away, either. He’s more bewildered than anything. He might’ve expected this sort of thing to happen years ago—years, and years ago, before that dreadful first meeting in some dingy little Berlin coffee shop, back when a new letter from Dr. Geiszler slipped through his mail slot could make his heart thud like nothing else—but they’ve hardly been anything to each other but colleagues these past two years. Not even quite colleagues—that implies a civility they don’t possess. Professional academic rivals. He was under the impression that the man hated him, that the data when they underwent standard tests for drift compatibility was merely a fluke.

His empty cup falls from his hand and clatters to the floor. Newton slides a hand up Hermann’s jaw and keeps kissing him; he makes a small, needy noise into Hermann’s mouth.

“Newton,” Hermann finally mumbles. “What are you doing?”

Newton pulls back. A brilliant red flush is creeping steadily across his face, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before anything comes out. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

He stumbles to his feet. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry, I like—”

“Newton?” Hermann repeats. He feels about as dazed as Newton looks; he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to say. His lips are tingling from the kiss. “I—?”

“I’m gonna go to the party,” Newton stammers. “Sorry, dude, I—misread signals? I guess? Um—” He steps on Hermann’s forgotten cup and skids slightly, catching and righting himself on one of Hermann’s bed posts. The movement knocks Hermann’s cane (hooked there) to the floor, and Newton must bend down twice before he succeeds in picking it up. “Just—um—okay, bye.”

Hermann stares at the door for a long time after Newton leaves. Tomorrow marks the end of their two years cohabitating and working together—as Newton said, odds are high their paths will never cross again. Hermann had been counting down the days to their graduation in a little calendar he keeps pinned neatly to his wall, daydreaming endlessly of the first thing he would do once he was free from the suffocating cloud of Newton Geiszler’s presence—daydreaming of the like-minded non-Geiszlerian colleagues he would meet at his Shatterdome assignment, of a neat and orderly laboratory devoid of kaiju residue over every communal surface, of his own living quarters. He should be excited. He should be ecstatic.

Hermann touches his mouth and feels nothing but strange sort of hollowness in his chest—a black hole enveloping all else.

---

He doesn’t see Newton until their graduation ceremony the next day, an affair made all the more awkward by the seating chart’s alphabetical arrangement ensuring Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb will be knocking elbows for the full two hours. Newton is late by nearly twenty minutes, and rushes in with badly unkempt hair and a backwards tie: Hermann has a feeling he’d been lurking outside their quarters and waiting for Hermann to leave before he dared dart in to get himself ready. He wonders where Newton spent the night. He wonders why he even cares. Likely passed out on the rec room floor after the party, judging from the confetti stuck to his left cheek—or perhaps he’d finally made a move on the fellow kaiju-biologist Hermann recalls him extolling the physicality of on more than one occasion, and spent the night with him—or perhaps he did neither, and merely wandered the base for hours, sleep evading him as it’d so entirely evaded Hermann. They don’t acknowledge each other for the whole of the ceremony.

Hermann is summoned to the office of the jaeger science program head (a severe woman with short hair) later that evening, shortly after he finishes taping up his very last box of papers in the vacant laboratory. He’s handed a small manila folder containing the details of his Shatterdome assignment: Hong Kong, as it turns out. One of his requests. “Since you and Dr. Newton Geiszler have displayed a strong work ethic when partnered together,” the woman begins, “as well as a very high level of drift compatibility—”

Hermann’s eyes snap up from his folder to her face.

“—we’ll be assigning him to Hong Kong’s kaiju science division along with you, under the assumption that together you will only continue to produce positive results.”

“Pardon?” Hermann says, weakly.

Newton has finished boxing up a majority of his belongings when Hermann drags himself through the door to their quarters an hour later. He glances at Hermann briefly, embarrassedly, and says, in a small voice, “Hey, Hermann.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

He walks over and sits down heavily atop the pile of sheets on his stripped bed. Something pokes at his thigh, and he sets aside his cane to fumble through the sheet bundle to discover what: Newton’s forgotten neon shuttered shades. The sight of them sends his stomach twisting up in knots. “Oh, hey,” Newton says, as he wraps a Godzilla action figure with bubble wrap. He nods at the manila envelope clenched between Hermann’s fingers. “Where are they shipping you off to? I’m going to Hong Kong—should be cool. I’ve never been before.” He places the little Godzilla in a carboard box. Newt - Junk! the side says in purple Sharpie. “My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon—you’re right, I definitely should’ve started packing earlier, I have no idea how I’m gonna get this all done by then.”

Hermann stares at Newton in poorly-concealed amazement as he continues to ramble on about how to pack up his instruments and whether or not they’ll let him bring his first-ever kaiju sample with him (he’s attached to it, even though he knows it’s technically the academy’s property, but maybe he can find a way to smuggle it out in his checked bags or something). Does he not know? Did they not tell him? How could they let this fall on Hermann? “Newton,” he says, slowly. “I’ve been assigned to Hong Kong, too.”

Newton freezes. “No fucking way,” he says.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader (oc)

more characters: Jimin x Yoonji

genre: angst, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

word count: 4.6k   |  reading time: 25 min

summary: Somehow you end up having to share a Victorian Manor (that may or may not be haunted) with a person you really dislike: Kim Taehyung

warnings: nothing specific in this chapter, some swearing and toxic traits

A/N: Amy= Army= reader:)

All chapters | Masterlist   |  Read on AO3

Chapter 1: The tragic state of affairs

An hour and a half long car drive and you still managed to be in the middle of nowhere. You could almost swear the dirt road was leading to nothing, but the occasional sign swore otherwise. You sighed. How had you gotten yourself into this, again? Oh, yeah.

-9:34 pm, the day before-

A loud thud followed by an inhuman growl produced from the deepest pits of hell reached your ears in the kitchen. I guess you couldn't ignore her any longer. You leaned past the door,  peeping at your roommate cocooning on the floor.

"Uh... You good?" She immediately started mumbling with fiery passion and you couldn't understand a single word. That meant no. "What did Jimin do this time?"

Yoonji sat up, turning her spine abnormally to look at you. "He's an idiot," you managed to hear.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "Right. You guys broke up. Is he still bothering you, what is it?" You walked to her and squatted down to her level. You noticed her cheeks were bloody red and stained with tears, her mouth giving you a pout. But you were unbothered.

"He won't let me go tomorrow," she complained.

"The Manor you guys had booked?"

"Yeah!"

"Why won't he let you go?"

"No, I mean... He says I can go but he says he'll go too and I don't want to see him," Yoonji mumbled while wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

Your immediate thought was to tell her to just go since they were going to make up eventually anyway. Seriously, the two of them broke up and got back together like twice a week. Sometimes it looked more serious, sure, but you had fallen for it too many times to believe it now. You would only be sure the two of them were done for real when... Well, actually, never. "So, you don't want to lose your vacation but you want to have the whole house to yourself?" you asked and she nodded. "Well, since you both paid for this, I'm sorry to tell you, but he has just as much right to go as you. You should have thought about that before you broke up over- what was it again? Dumplings?" I mean, this had to be some type of kink or something at this point. They had to be into breaking up and chasing each other all the time. Maybe it was the make-up sex, who knows.

Finally, one of the road signs pointed to the right for a turn. 200 m it said. You breathed out in relief; you were starving and so sleep deprived, you feared you'd drive your car into a ditch by the road. In front of you stood a large gate with an astounding metal design. It was open and you carefully drove in. Your breath hitched the moment the house came into view. What house? That was a whole palace! With three floors, a garden bigger than the nearest park to your apartment, and about a million windows adorning its two wings. So caught up in the drama, you hadn't even had the chance to see a picture to prepare yourself for the beauty of the Victorian artifact. Your jaw on the floor, all you could do was laugh.

Say, how had you managed to get here again? Right, right...

-11:04 pm, the day before-

There was a soft knock on your bedroom door and you hummed in reply. Yoonji burst in with great contrast to her knocking, dashing for the foot of your bed and plopping herself on it with nerve. You paused your texting on your phone momentarily to turn your eyes on hers, noting her tears were all dried up now, a frown in their place.

"I told him I'm not going 'cause I don't wanna see his stupid face," she announced.

The corners of your mouth turned downwards. "Good for you. I'm sure the house isn't worth it, you can do your vacation elsewhere."

"But now he says he's not going..."

You thought about it for a second, then got back to your texting. "Great. Isn't that what you wanted? Now, you can go."

The girl leaned over your legs, trying to catch your attention again with wide eyes full of conspiracies. "But... What if he's bluffing?"

You paused again. Damnit, why was this even making sense? You'd say Jimin is not capable of doing something like that... if you actually thought it to be true. "So, don't go." You looked at her again to make sure your point was getting across. "Yoonji, don't go. That way no matter if he goes or not, you still won't see his stupid face."

A middle-aged woman dressed to fit right into the aesthetic of the Manor greeted you on the big steps of the entrance with something like the enthusiasm you only show your favorite aunt on Christmas. "You must be Ms. Min Yoonji," she called before you even had the chance to reach her.

"Must I?" you replied, immediately following it with a peal of fake laughter.

The woman chuckled and walked towards you. With a closer look, you noticed how youthful her face looked, and how undeniably pretty she was. Definitely looking like a noblewoman who would be in charge of something like this mansion. "Welcome, I'm Mrs. Kim. I'm glad you're here, your partner is already inside," she said.

Oh... So he was bluffing.

You smiled. "Thank you. The place looks stunning."

"Oh, I'm hoping you'll get to enjoy all of its beauty to the maximum this week you'll be spending here," the woman said as she guided you towards the entrance." Just to let you know, every room is at your disposal, the kitchen is fully equipped and with every kind of food you might crave. Housekeeping is daily and with a very discreet staff. I have already given a tour to your partner."

You pushed the heavy door open and walked in, immediately hugged by a heavy but warm atmosphere with a strong, musky scent. Right across from you, there was a big, double staircase with a magnificent chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. All you could do was look around with a stupid face. Jimin was getting Yoonji this type of vacation and she had the audacity to fight with him? How had they even afforded this? You totally understood why your roommate was throwing a tantrum wanting to come here. Why had she even let you come instead?

-12:56 am, the day before, or more accurately, this day but super early-

"Amy... Amy..." You were startled awake, barely making out the silhouette of Yoonji hovering above you in the darkness. "Were you sleeping?" she whispered.

You exhaled and pushed her away, groaning. "Yoonji, a piece of advice: if you have to shake someone for them to answer you, yeah, they were sleeping!"

"Sorry," she said but definitely didn't mean it. She scooted you over to sit next to you. "Hey, so... I was thinking. Maybe you should go."

Be it the sleep or your roommate speaking utter nonsense, all you could think was: "What?"

"Well, I don't wanna go in case Jimin goes, but I also don't wanna let him have the house to himself -you know, out of spite- so maybe you should go." Yoonji blinked at you expectingly but it was still too complicated for you to process. "I mean, you're gonna have a good time, Amy. The house is amazing, I promise, this is a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, okay? I thought if I let you go then we could also be even for the time you did that assignment for me and got me an A? What do you say?"

You frowned, starting to shake your head. "Yoonji-"

"Please, I just want you to annoy him by just being there, you know? Also, he might not even go. Then you'll have a whole Manor to yourself for a whole week! You can take your books with you and enjoy some time away from society, right? Pretty please..."

Your frown deepened, but you started to think about what she was saying. "You really would rather just give up your vacation to a Victorian Mansion or whatever it is to your roommate than let Jimin have it to himself?"

"Absolutely, yeah."

Well, you couldn't think of a reason to say no to that.

Mrs. Kim finished her welcoming speech with a smile. "In the library, you will find a map of the hiking routes of the forest. There is a mushroom picking one that I wholeheartedly recommend. Of course, anything you might need, you can always pick up our vintage phone -it works perfectly- and call us any time of the day and night."

You gave her a genuine grin and nodded. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Kim!" And after that, the beautiful woman opened the door and left. Where to, you had no idea, since you doubted there was any kind of civilization nearby.

You dragged your suitcase to the bottom of the staircase, about to lift it and go find one of the surely many rooms to occupy. But in the silence of it all, you noticed a fire cracking in the background. So silent, it felt like you and the fire were the only things alive for miles. Yet Jimin must have been roaming somewhere in this Manor.

Huh... He still hadn't shown up at the entrance to check if Yoonji had come? Surely, he must have heard the commotion made but you two ladies.

You released your grip on your suitcase and slowly walked towards the room the fire seemed to be coming from. You wanted to find him and enjoy his face when he would see you instead of his girl- well, ex-girlfriend. You passed through a small hallway, little rooms with cabinets and bookcases until you reached a slightly ampler room that had a lit fireplace. It looked like a sitting room, with a pair of scarlet, velvet armchairs and a matching sofa. There was a large, thick carpet that covered almost the entire floor, and an ebony coffee table in the middle. On the right, a window that expanded from floor to ceiling, but was however half-hidden behind a rich curtain.

You were about to go towards the fireplace before you noticed the slim man standing tall by that window. Looking outside, turned opposite to the entrance. You almost didn't notice him as the colors and textile of his outfit matched the room so well. His brown, a little wavy hair tucked messily behind his ears, light silver glasses sitting low on his nose, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a sweater vest over a beige shirt and baggy trousers and was standing like a model. Something very off about him that you didn't immediately recognize.

"Oh." The interjection left your lips without your command. And at the sound of your voice, he turned around to face you.

-10:46 am, this morning-

You had left your apartment more than a long time ago, Yoonji was expecting that you would have arrived by now and waiting for your news. Had Jimin gone too? How had he reacted? She tried calling you a couple of times but was only met with voicemail. Maybe you didn't have a good signal up in the mountains. Oh, no, how would you keep her up to date now?

Her cellphone buzzed and she rushed to see the message she assumed was from her roommate. It turned out to be her ex.

"You didn't go, then?"

Yoonji laughed. How wicked of her. He must have just seen you arrive at the Manor, instead of her. So he was lying about not going, just as Yoonji had predicted. She flipped her hair from her shoulder dramatically and quickly typed her reply.

"Of course not, I told you I wasn't going."

She couldn't stop giggling like a little girl.

"Cool... Just so you know, I felt bad wasting this already paid vacation, so..."

Yoonji rolled her eyes, still giggling.

"Let me guess. You went by yourself?" How pathetic... He really thought his little trick would work.

"No."

Wait, what?

"I myself didn't go..."

Yoonji blinked.

Come again?

Your eyes widened when you realized the man in front of you wasn't Jimin. The man in front of you was...

"Kim Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

He was about to open his mouth to reply when your phone interrupted you. Without taking your eyes off the man and with a deep frown on both of your faces, you took it out of your pocket and answered. Yoonji's voice started ringing immediately from the other end.

"Amy! Finally! I've been trying to call you for ages. Did you arrive yet? I wanted to tell you Jimin isn't coming. He said he let Tae go." You rolled your eyes. "Can you hear me, Amy? The signal is so bad... Amy, the idiot did the same thing I did and sent Taehyung! Remember Taehyung? Jimin's best friend?"

You sighed. "Yeah... Way ahead of you. He's standing right in front of me." Your eyes traveled down his arms as he moved to fold them over his chest, tilting his head at you.

Yoonji let out an exasperated cry. "Ugh, man! So he told the truth... Look, I'm so sorry I got you into this. Amy, can you hear me? I hope you have no problem with him there. I know you guys are not close- wait, have you guys met? You have, right? Okay, I know you're not close but it'll be fine, right? Just don't pay attention to him and do your thing, yeah darling? Act the same as if Jimin were there, or as if you were alone. Amy, that's fine, right? You can do that, right? How is the house, is it awesome and totally worth it and you're totally not mad at me for sending you there with Tae? Huh? Amy?"

You sighed again. The signal was indeed bad. So you just hung up, hoping your roommate would blame your rudeness on that. Hiding your phone away again, you eyed Taehyung from head to toe. He was still glaring at you as if you'd stolen something from him. Well, I guess if he thought he'd have this whole place to himself, it was kind of like stealing. But that was only because he just happened to arrive first. Both of you had the same claim over the place. Or, well, neither of you did.

"Right, so..." you started since he didn't seem to be reacting any further. "I guess we'll have to stay together."

Suddenly, Taehyung started moving. His eyes still piercing yours and not a word out of his mouth, just a steady charge towards you.

"I-I know you didn't expect me-" you felt the need to mumble quickly, "-but I didn't expect you either!" Taehyung stayed silent, getting closer. "Okay, maybe we lied!" you exclaimed, your feet stepping behind each other. "But you guys lied, too!" There wasn't any more room to move and the man was now right in front of you, leaning into your personal space. "Taehyung, what-"

"Who are you?"

You were caught off guard. "What?" You thought he was joking, but he stayed looking at you with a serious face. "What do you mean who am I?" you sounded offended. "We've met before!"

"Have we?"

"Couple of times!"

Taehyung scanned your entire face before he shook his head. "I don't remember you."

Now you were offended. "I'm Amy!" you announced loudly. "Yoonji's roommate."

At last, he pulled away, his mouth opening in understanding. "Oh... Right, I knew Yoonji had a roommate by that name." He moved farther away but turned his head to you again. "I don't think I've seen you before, though."

You rolled your eyes and slipped around him to escape the place you had been trapped in earlier. "Alcohol does that sometimes," you snorted at him.

Taehyung rubbed his chin, looking at you differently now. You tried to avoid his eyes, examining the room more closely instead. The paintings on the walls, the black encyclopedia on the shelves, the candelabra and tea set on the small table. Every detail was thought of inside the house. "Why are you here, though?" he asked.

"Same reason as you, I assume."

He licked his bottom lip in the act of releasing a small chuckle. "Did you owe a favor to your best friend, too?"

You took out one random book and browsed its thin, yellow pages. "Actually, she owed me."

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in response, then started occupying himself with the little things around the room, as well. "They're ridiculous, aren't they?" You hummed in agreement and put the book back, moving along. "Do you think they might be done for real now?"

"No way." You moved to the smaller window behind the sofa and pulled its curtains away to look at the view. A hill decorated by a dense forest. "Yoonji is over her phone 24/7 waiting for him to text her."

He chuckled again. "I know for a fact Jimin is not taking this seriously. He laughs every time she texts him."

"As he should! She's a drama queen."

"Thank you!" Taehyung called out as if he had been struggling with this for a long time. With two long strides, he appeared next to you and forced you to look into his eyes. "Jimin gets mad at me every time I say that, but she is, isn't she?"

You were a little taken aback by how eager he seemed to be to find this one thing in common between the two of you: having had enough of your friends' relationship. You nodded with an amused smile. "Extremely."

He shook his head, pushing his hair back with a hand. "I honestly don't get how they make it work. Aren't they tired?" He turned serious again and looked at you with big eyes. "I could never have something like that. When I like someone, I want it to be Titanic, not Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

It took you a few seconds to reply, a little lost in his intense stare. But you shrugged. "I kind of get it. It keeps it fun and interesting. They've been together for three years now and yet it's still not boring. Like, they confess their love to each other every other week."

But he insisted. "I wouldn't need all of that to remind my girl how much I love her."

This was getting a little uncomfortable. He was a little too close, and a little too serious. So you leaned back and maneuvered around him, walking towards the door. "Alright, you do your thing with your relationship, they can do theirs." You turned to look at him right at the same time he did. "So, we'll be staying here together, right? I hope that's okay."

Taehyung shrugged just one shoulder. "If it's fine with you," he almost whispered.

You nodded once. "Well, as long as there is not only one bed," you smiled at your joke but he just frowned. You guessed he didn't read fanfiction. You cleared your throat. "The house seems big enough for the two of us, I'm sure we could go about our separate vacations without getting in each other's way."

"Sure, if that's what you want."

You nodded again and pointed to the door. "Should we choose our rooms?"

He clicked his tongue and moved past you. "Sorry, I have already chosen the big chamber on the east wing since I didn't expect company. You might want to get a room on the west wing to avoid me more efficiently." Taehyung walked quickly down the corridor without waiting for you, or even checking if you were following. Not that you had to be following, obviously. You thought he sounded a little annoyed, but you couldn't think of a reason why. If it was you being there, he'd have to get used to it 'cause you weren't going anywhere.

"Cool," you simply replied and followed. The man appeared in your line of view again only after you got in the lobby. He was standing by the staircase, looking at your abandoned suitcase. "I got it," you said automatically, only realizing he hadn't offered to carry it after he looked at you weirdly. You cleared your throat awkwardly, needing to change the subject. "Do you know where the kitchen is? I'm thirsty."

He motioned towards the corridor opposite the one you had just come from. "Down the hall, there's a small one," he said and started jogging up the stairs with his hands in his pockets.

You exhaled the moment he was out of view again. Being around him took up more of your energy than you expected. Which wasn't ideal for a vacation. The whole situation, to be honest, being isolated with Kim Taehyung in an old, strange house, wasn't ideal. You wondered if he felt so put out by it as you did while you walked around the house to find the kitchen. Definitely, you thought. He didn't want to be there with you, it was certain. Not necessarily because he'd shown something like that up until then, but because you knew exactly the type of guy he was. I'll tell you one thing: it wasn't a coincidence that you had such close, common friends, yet barely knew each other.

The kitchen was bigger than your living room, yet it was characterized as small? A long counter stretched all along the wall on the left, with three windows over it that overlooked the garden. There was an island in the middle and cabinets around the rest of the space. A very pleasant room, bright and with light colors on the furniture that went well with the green that posed on the window panes like self-illuminated paintings.

You put your whole face under the faucet and swallowed the very cold -cold like it was just now coming from a nearby river- water. After cleaning your dripping face with your hands, you did a short inspection. The cabinets and the fridge were filled with all kinds of foods, Mrs. Kim was right. You guessed that should have been the case, considering there weren't any markets anywhere close. But that also meant you had to cook all of your food. You and Taehyung. What were you going to do? Cook different meals or share?

That was a future problem. Now, you had to find a room. You dragged your suitcase up the stairs making a little too much noise and turned to the west wing without hesitation. There were a few rooms to choose from; a double room with navy blue wallpaper, a smaller one with a balcony, a more princess-looking room with a small bed and a boudoir. You picked the next one. It had a canopy, queen-sized bed with thick, purple curtains that matched the ones on the big window across the door, and a wooden wardrobe that looked like it was taken from the set of Beauty and the Beast. There was a small fireplace too, although it was not lit, it was still decorated.

A big smile appeared on your face at the sight of the cozy room. Perhaps the house would be worth it after all. Right before walking in, you quickly looked to your left, thinking you saw something, but when nothing was there you walked excitedly inside and closed the door. You tried opening the window to let some fresh air in, but it seemed to be stuck. Or maybe you just didn't know how to do it. It looked fragile and so you let it be, deciding against causing an accident. Instead, you took your clothes and your things out, organizing them around the room to make it more personal, and when you were done, you hoped on the rather tall bed with the softest mattress you had ever felt in your life and called your friend.

"Girl, you owe me big time after this!" you whisper-shouted at her when she picked up, still not certain of how soundproof the building was and not wanting to risk Taehyung hearing anything.

Yoonji giggled from the other end of the call. "Hey, girl! How is the Manor looking so far?"

"Oh, that part is fantastic," you said genuinely. "Still in awe you were stupid enough to let this thing go. But don't try to change my mind like that," you scolded her. You knew her too well for her manipulation to work on you. And she knew that, which is why she giggled again. "Why, oh, why is Kim freaking Taehyung here, Yoon?"

You could almost hear her pout. "Oh, babe, you know I didn't know he'd be there! It's not my fault."

"Well, yes, but when I agreed to do this, it was between having the place to myself or sharing with your boyfriend. I would–"

"Ex-boyfriend!"

"–much rather have Jimin here to annoy instead of stupid Taehyung annoying me," you said, rolling your eyes. You stared at the door then, thinking you'd heard something, but dismissing it as just the old house making noises.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't call him that. It's not his fault he got into this, either."

"You know how I feel about that boy!" you insisted.

"He's actually nice, Amy."

"To you. Because you're his best friend's girlfriend. He doesn't–"

"Ex-girlfriend..."

"–give a fuck about anyone else," you mumbled, playing with your hair. "Anyone who is beneath him and his stupid, rich ass is not worth being nice to, you know?"

Yoonji hummed. "I don't think he's that rich, he's just kind of famous. It's not the same."

You rolled your eyes and groaned. "That's not the point here." You got up and looked out the window. Air had picked up and was making the trees around the garden dance passionately. "I don't feel comfortable around him, so now I have to spend a whole week being weird and worried I might run into him no matter what I do."

Your roommate clicked her tongue disapprovingly at you. "Girl, I say give him a chance and get to know him. Who knows, you may become friends and when you get back we can all hang out together."

You smiled, raising an eyebrow even if she couldn't see it. "I thought you had broken up with Jimin, how are we gonna hang out all together?"

"Ah!" It really must have slipped her mind, too, which made it all that funnier. "You're right, don't become friends with him. You will never see him again, anyway," Yoonji was quick to correct herself.

You sighed, still smiling at your silly friend, as you propped one leg up on the window sill and leaned your head against the glass. "Can't I just leave, say, tomorrow?"

"Amy..."

"Too tired today," you added with a yawn.

"I think you should stay. First of all, if you leave, Jimin might come, and him with his self-proclaimed soulmate there would just make my blood boil, so we can't have that. But second of all, and most importantly, you are at a gorgeous Victorian Manor and all you do is complain about a gorgeous boy living with you. Things could be worse, Amy. He could have been an asshole and ugly." You burst out laughing. "So just enjoy it, okay? Fuck him and enjoy your stay. You won't ever get a chance like this again, Jimin paid for most of it, you know we could never afford that."

You rolled your eyes again, but as lovingly as you could. "Fine..." you succumbed to her words. "I guess I could put on my cute dress and go pick mushrooms and forget about the other guy."

Yoonji cheered. "That's the spirit! Go be a cottagecore fairy, baby, you deserve it."

"God, I hate you."

"Love you, too!"

Yeah, you should enjoy what you could from this. Maybe Taehyung wouldn't be such a pain in the ass. Not very likely, but maybe.

Next chapter

[meliaaizawa]

COSTUMES

Class 1-A works on coming up with their first hero costumes for school.

Word count: 913

“Alright, class. Today’s hero studies period will be set aside for you to come up with your costume designs. If your skills allow you to, you can sketch out what you have in mind… or you can just write out a description of what you’d like. We’re partnered with some of the biggest costume companies in Japan, so once we have your costume requests, we’ll send them off to have them made,” Ushiwaka-sensei said at the start of fourth period. Once he was finished talking, the class began brainstorming and talking amongst themselves about how to design their first “official” hero costume. Oboro approached Meiya’s desk as she dug through her backpack. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Obo, I’m trying to find it,” she said before he even spoke, pulling out a sketchbook from her bag and beginning to thumb through the pages.

She found the page she was looking for in her book and carefully ripped it out before giving it to her friend, who was patiently waiting with his elbows on her desk. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said, bowing before her. “Oh, wait, let me make one more change,” she said, taking the sheet back from him and sketching something on it with her pencil. Aizawa, who had the assigned seat next to Mei, watched the two interact at the next desk over and noticed her sketching. The sheet had a well-drawn sketch of a figure wearing an outfit, and she was now adding onto it. “What do you think now?” Mei asked Obo. “IT’S PERFECT!” he replied. Hizashi from the other side of Aizawa noticed the conversation going on and joined in. “Woah, you already finished your costume??” Hizashi asked as he saw the sketch in Obo’s hand.

Obo nodded excitedly. “Yep!! Mei and I have been planning to be heroes since middle school, so we already had in mind what we wanted for our costumes!” he answered, showing off Mei’s sketch of his costume. “Whatcha guys think?? Pretty slick, huh? I came up with like 75% of it, but Mei filled in the gaps and brought my ideas to life! I was thinking about what would be practical with my quirk, so I figured I should definitely wear a jacket, because it can be windy when I fly on my cloud… OH! And Mei came up with this cool logo thingy for me to add onto my jacket… for aesthetic purposes of course” he bragged as she blushed embarrassedly. “They probably aren’t interested in hearing the life story behind your costume,” she retorted.

“MEI!! Can you help me with my costume?! I have no artistic skills, so I wouldn’t even begin to know how to draw out my idea!” Hizashi said to Mei. She continued to blush, not used to having all this attention on her. “Oooo yeah, Mei! Help Hizashi out!! Maybe you could help Aizawa out too!” Oboro added. Mei looked at the boy next to her who simply said, “no thanks.” “Y’know… you seem like an independent dude… but maybe you should see what it’s like getting help from friends!” Obo suggested. “Don’t pressure him! You’re probably annoying him,” Mei replied defensively as she got up from her seat and went over to Hizashi’s desk with her sketchbook to help him get his ideas down to paper. Aizawa sighed in relief, thankful that his classmate helped in getting Shirakumo off his case, and he began to write down what he wanted for his costume.

A couple days later, the costumes were completed by the companies and were now in the hands of each of the students. They all got dressed, figuring out how to put them on and what all the accessories did before heading out to the training area for hero class. “Mei!! Look how good I look in your costume!!” Obo said as soon as Mei appeared on the training grounds. “I wish you wouldn’t give me the credit! It was mostly your idea!” she said to her friend. One-by-one the rest of the students showed up, talking about each other’s costumes. Mei ended up helping a good amount of the class with their costumes, so many of them were thanking her for putting their ideas to paper. The “mean girl” of the class, Iwasaki, noticed Mei getting all the attention and was starting to feel envious of her.

“Y’know, Amiyagi, if you used all the time you spent on other people’s costumes, you probably could’ve come up with an exciting costume for yourself,” she said, looking at Mei’s simple costume and making sure some of their other classmates were listening in. Mei shrugged. “Don’t know why you’re jealous of a girl with a simple costume then,” she retorted before walking away. She walked over to Hizashi and Obo, where Aizawa was standing a bit away by himself, listening in. “Woah, girlfriend!! I didn’t know you had that kind of sass in you!” Hizashi commented as she approached. “Well then it’s obvious you still don’t know our Mei very well yet. She may be a cinnamon roll, but she’s also often like a snapping turtle… seemingly harmless until you mess with her… then she’ll snap at you,” Obo said as Mei rolled her eyes and Shota smirked to himself.

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 36: Rehab

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

A/N: I had this written a long time ago. Which is why y’all are getting 2 chapters in 2 days

TAGS: @madamsixx​ @emariehorror​

@nosebleedblitz​

WARNINGS: angst

Previous/Next

Read on Ao3

February 2nd, 1988

Tucson, Arizona

Sammi stared out of the taxi cab window, frowning at the rehabilitation sign insight. Her palms were sweating even more than they did when on the airplane over to Tucson. The taxi driver wasn’t in any rush, somewhat understanding Sammi’s hesitation to exit their cab once they saw where Sammi needed to be. Sammi rubbed her hands on her jeans, exhaling as she paid the cab fare. The driver gave a sad smile to Sammi from the rearview mirror.

“Good luck to whatever finds you here,” said the driver.

Sammi smiled back at the driver, stepping out of the car with shaky feet. The rehab was beautiful to Sammi, with vast desert fields with different sports or relaxation activities. It looked like a rich summer camp if you didn’t know what the place really was. Sammi walked through the sliding doors, feeling cold air conditioning that hit her face, a pleasant sensation once outside in the heat. She clenched onto the strap of her purse, looking at everything around like a little child. Sammi slowly walked to the receptionist’s desk, greeted by an older man who gave a courtesy smile.

“Hello Ms. how may I help you today?” asked the man, his name tag reading Julius.

“I’m here to see Dr. Hawkins. She asked me to come in for a therapy session today. I have… family here,” Sammi said, pressing her lips tightly together. The man looked down at his notebook and computer then to another receptionist near him.

“Well, Dr. Hawkins seems to be currently in a group therapy session, but let me phone in her head nursing assistant. Could I get some ID, please?” asked Julius. Sammi reached into her purse and slid over the card. As Julius read Sammi’s full name, she could see the twitch in his face of realization. Julius returned the ID and a visitor clip for Sammi. “Okay, please have this clip on for the entirety of your visit. You can have a seat over on your right,” said Julius.

“Thank you,” Sammi smiled, walking to the rows of chairs in a maze-like fashion. Sammi was the only one in the little waiting area, seeing a sign about visitation hours for ‘patients.’ Sammi shuddered at the word, fully succumbing to the fact that the guys were patients. Patients who are most likely under medication at the moment. Patients who Sammi’s been around when completing her necessary hours to graduate. It clicked at this moment alone that Sammi found herself in the place she was aiming to work for, but this time visiting people she cared about. Sammi soon saw a nurse come out of the hospital like double doors, seeking right for Sammi.

“Samantha?” Nurse Sandra asked, extending out a hand. Sammi stood on her feet, shoulders squared, accepting the handshake.

“Yes. Hi, I’m Samantha. It’s nice to meet you,” Sammi smiled politely at Nurse Sandra. “You work with Dr. Hawkins?”

“Yes, I do. I’m one of the nurse team members assigned to Motley Crue. It’s been an interesting journey so far,” Nurse Sandra said with a smile.

“Team members? How many people are assigned to the guys?” Sammi asked with worried eyebrows.

“They each have one assigned nurse when necessary, such as distributing medication at specific hours and each a therapist. Dr. Hawkins facilitates group therapy sessions and the main doctor in charge of their treatment. Come with me so we can join the men now. We don’t want to be late,” Nurse Sandra with a smile, sensing the nerves from Sammi’s face. Nurse Sandra and Sammi walked down the home-like hallways, passing doctors’ offices and patient rooms. “Did Dr. Hawkins have a chance to fully explain before your visit down here?” Nurse Sandra asked.

“I was just told Dr. Hawkins wanted me in for a group therapy session. I just don't have the full reasoning exactly,” Sammi replied as the two stood in front of the spacious group therapy room.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t worry,” Nurse Sandra said, checking the watch on her wrist and peeking inside the room. Sammi looked inside through the small window as well to see all four of the guys seated down. They all had their backs to the door, listening carefully to what Dr. Hawkins was saying. An older woman who looked like she could be Mrs. Bass's age. One chair in the middle between all four men was empty, leaving Nikki and Tommy on the left and Vince & Mick right. “Ready?” Nurse Sandra asked. Sammi nodded, swallowing hard. Nurse Sandra carefully opened the door, waving two fingers to signal Dr. Hawkins. Dr. Hawkins nodded, clapping her hands together. Sammi shuffled in the room with silence, clutching onto the strap of her purse harder.

“Gentlemen, remember how I said we were going to have a guest today? Well, here she is,” Dr. Hawkins said, standing up and raising a hand behind everyone. “Samantha, come here have a seat with us,” Nikki was the first to snap his head behind him, blinking rapidly as if he was dreaming. Tommy smiled at his sister, missing the face of someone familiar that wasn’t Motley anymore. Vince and Mick couldn’t look at Sammi, but each had different reasoning. Sammi kept her head hung low, not making eye contact at everyone's shocked faces, sitting down in her designated seat.

“Good afternoon, Samantha. How are you doing?” Dr. Hawkins asked, smiling warmly at the young woman.

“Okay… I guess. I’m not sure as to why I’m here exactly,” said Sammi.

“I wanted to invite you for a therapy session because I noticed from our team that you are a common theme in many sessions since the men have been here,” said Dr. Hawkins, grabbing a leather notecase, clicking her silver pen.

“I am?” asked Sammi, curling her lip at the surprise. Sammi looked to her right, seeing Tommy and Nikki looking down to the floor. Mick rested his chin in the palm of his hand to her left while Vince sat with folded arms and stared only at Dr. Hawkins.

“Yes, you are. Whenever the men opened up and told an event, you were mentioned many times from their owns accounts,”

“Wow, even Mick talks about me? I’m touched,” teased Sammi to break the tension, placing a hand over her heart, turning towards Mick. His mouth was covered, but Sammi could still see the corners turned upwards. “So, what exactly do you want from me? I’m just Tommy’s little sister?”

“No, you’re not just Tommy’s little sister. You’re a sister, a friend, and a romantic partner. I want you to fully open up about your experience with these men during their substance abuse,” Dr. Hawkins corrected Sammi. Sammi looked down at her lap. “I brought Samantha in here, so the four of you fully comprehend how your abuse affects the people around you,” Dr. Hawkins explained to Motley, scanning the room and seeing the discomfort in everyone's faces. “While you are a band, Samantha isn’t someone who knows all of you purely on that. She seems to be the one positive person you all have,”

“Yeah, thanks, Tommy,” Sammi mumbled, folding her arms tightly against her chest and crossing one leg over the other.

“Oh, come on, you know you love us,” Tommy replied, giving a quick one-sided smile to Sammi.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Dr. Hawkins said with a smile, pages of notes turning echoing in the room. “Is it alright if I address you as Sammi for the rest of the session?” Sammi nodded. “Great! I’ve heard through the grapevine you’re currently in school for pharmacy in San Francisco. How is that going?”

Sammi shrugged. “Good. Challenging, but it’s been going good these last two years. I’m almost finally done with school. Feels like I’ve been in college for an eternity,”

“That’s amazing. It’s good seeing young women come into the medical field for all things. I know your brother is proud of you,” Dr. Hawkins smiled, Sammi smiling at Tommy, who shied away. “You two seem close when he talks about you and your other sister Athena. It’s important to have a strong bond even during rough times,”

“I could agree. Of course, Tommy annoys the hell out me, but I’m lucky to have a brother like him,”

“And was it always like this? Did you two always have a strong bond growing up?”

“Nope,” Sammi and Tommy said in unison with a chuckle. Both repressed their laughs but still smiled at each other. “I was a bit ‘bitchy’ when I was 17,”

“And 18, and 19… It wasn’t just your fault, though. I can admit now why you’d act upset with me,” Tommy added.

“And why was that, Tommy?” Dr. Hawkins asked.

Tommy sighed. “At first, I blamed it on these two friends she had from high school, but after I got into Motley, I acted all big shot for being in a band. So we grew apart when we began having our own lives,” Tommy said, folding his arms against his chest and sinking into the white accent sofa chair.

“How did you two manage to reconnect?” Dr. Hawkins asked.

Sammi smiled to herself at the memory of the first time she met Tommy in Motley. “Ironically, the band. Tommy went to my job at the time, asking for a bedsheet that I wasn’t using anymore. That’s where I met Nikki and reconnected with Vince,”

“No, Mick?”

“I didn’t show up to the old apartment until it was the evening. I met Sammi when she came for a rehearsal,” Mick added.

“So what was your first impression of everyone, Sammi? After not seeing Vince since you were a young teen and Nikki for the first time,”

“I hated Nikki,” Sammi snickered, Nikki smiling to himself but away from everyone. “I called him a porcupine because his hair was so teased and made him call me Samantha. I hated how he was gawking at me but also liked it for some reason. I was nice to Vince but kept a distance because he had been around with people I knew, then soon my old crush came back. And with Mick, I didn’t get why the guys called him an alien. He just had a different head on his shoulders than the others. They’re all different in their own ways,”

“Those sound like fun introductions to a couple of bold characters,” Dr. Hawkins had joked. Sammi nodded, smiling a tad bit at how it all began. “But then you had moments of anger with the men? Is that correct?”

“Yeah, I did,” Sammi huffed out.

“Were there ever specific times or random moments of annoyance throughout the friendships?”

“It was first their attitudes of being macho men, mostly from Nikki. Mick never made me angry, honestly. Vince would get under my skin if he slept with girls before we got together… and even during. Then there were the drugs and times they all acted selfish, hurting someone else along the way,” Sammi said, thinking hard to formulate a proper thought of her life with Motley.

“So you never liked it when any of them used hard substances?”

Sammi looked down at the floor for a moment. “No, I didn’t. I never saw a reason to do it. The only drug I was around was weed at the time. Our parents explained why using drugs was bad all the time growing up, hard drugs in mind. When I saw Tommy and Athena do it, I freaked out, running away from them. Then I only told our parents because I’m a bad liar to them, and they kept asking questions when I got home in the morning. They chewed Athena and Tommy’s ass to dinner that night,”

“How old were you when this happened?”

“18,”

“Do you remember if you blamed a person for this?”

Sammi nodded. “I blamed Nikki for giving them coke because Vince told me,”

“Did you all three talk it out right after dinner? To keep your sibling bond intact?”

Sammi glanced at Nikki, seeing him stare at the corner of the room. “No, we didn’t. That night Nikki called me when I was in my room to tell me I was dumb after telling him he was a creep. Everyone does drugs in this scene, and if I didn’t like it, I should stay out. So I did. I didn’t talk to Tommy, Athena, or Vince for a while,” Sammi recalled pressing her lips together, looking dead at Dr. Hawkins.

“God, I forgot about that,” Mick mumbled, slowly shifting for comfort in his seat. Tommy and Vince looked at each other, remembering those times that felt like centuries ago. Nikki rested his chin in the palm of his hands, turning his body away from Sammi. It was the first time Nikki felt terrible for hurting Sammi’s feelings, not understanding why at the time. Nikki never felt bad about hurting a girl's sentiments in his young life until that night, questioning his feelings.

“How was that for you, Tommy? Or Vince? Or Nikki? Or Mick?” Dr. Hawkins asked the three men.

“Tried to make sure no one killed Nikki. I thought he was an asshole for pissing Sammi off. We all kind of gave him the silent treatment for it. Sammi didn’t deserve our bullshit so early on of knowing us,” Mick said.

“I was so pissed at Nikki. I liked having Sammi around. That was around the time I started liking her,” Vince said, cracking his fingers.

“The funny thing is, I should’ve known something happened. When I told Sammi goodbye at dinner, she wouldn’t open her bedroom door. I came home to Vince yelling at Nikki,” Tommy said. “I felt like shit for making Sammi angry at us as soon as we started hanging out again,”

“Nikki?” Dr. Hawkins asked. Nikki didn’t give a response, keeping his head away from everyone. Dr. Hawkins didn’t try to press any further for the time being.

“But after that, you all still managed to have Sammi in your lives and go down the path you chose?” Dr. Hawkins asked. Motley and Sammi stayed silent, no one giving a glance to anyone in the room. “How was that, Sammi? If you were so strong-willed to not be around, then what happened?”

“Nikki apologized for the whole thing, and I missed the guys. It’s kinda hard to ignore all of them when your brother is in the band. I had moments of being distant with the guys either way,”

“But you could’ve still stayed away. What was the real reason?”

“I liked them, Okay? I had two fake friends and a cookie-cutter life before I hung out with them. I liked being around them even if shit happened,” Sammi raised her voice a tad bit.

“Was that all, though?” Dr. Hawkins asked again.

“Listen, do you want a gist of basically the last six years of my life to fully get it?” Sammi asks, scowling at Dr. Hawkins.

“Go ahead. I encourage you to open up. Go on for as long as you want,”

“My brother gets in a band to be the drummer with three other guys. The lead singer is his old high school friend I had liked since I was 13 when he slept in our van. After a year of fucked up friendship, we finally got together even though he couldn’t keep it in his pants. All of that for him to just end up cheating on me and getting another girl pregnant. The bass player is some macho asshole, and I hate him. We end up talking for more than a minute, and I can see the asshole turn sweet on me. I end up having feelings for him, and everything gets worse but still great. When things are going good, it feels amazing, but when it’s bad, it’s like hell on earth because I can’t fix it. The guitar player acts like my dad to me because he’s scared I’ll fuck up my life when I’m around them. He got angry that I snorted coke on my birthday. He keeps his medical condition a secret from everyone because the drummer, singer, and bass player are assholes. They use him as a punching bag because he’s nice. I don’t say shit because who is going to listen to me? Mick won’t admit to being in pain, and no one listens when I say ease upon him. I stayed because I liked being around them and brushed off the annoyance. My brother and I are finally talking regularly again. That’s what it’s like being with these four,” Sammi rambled, frowning deeper lines on her face, folding her arms tighter around her chest.

Motley stared at Sammi, feeling confined to what they’ve made her put up. Dr. Hawkins wrote down in her notepad, motioning for Sammi to continue. “I hated it when they had to go too far with drugs and alcohol. I went on tour with them as an assistant for one year and saw everything. They had to go crazy to ‘prove themselves to no one who’s actually important in their lives. Every single time one of them told me, ‘that’s the lifestyle,’ I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs. I didn’t get how these four who finally got their dream would throw it away by slowly killing themselves,”

“But, you have used drugs before?”

“Yes. I admit I have done drugs, but it was only coke.”

“The first time you used was on your birthday?”

“No. It was the night Nikki and I talked after he apologized for calling me dumb. Both of us went back to the apartment he shared with Tommy and Vince, there was a party, so I stayed. When I was there, the three of them were using coke in front of me. I wanted to see why they liked it so much. So I asked, and I snorted for the first time. It was rare when I did coke after that, self-aware of taking it easy. The last time I did, it was in Vegas three years ago with Nikki. Vince would get mad at me every time I got high when we were together,” Sammi admitted

“Why would that be, Vince?” Dr. Hawkins asked Vince, turning her attention to the man slouching in the sofa chair. Vince stayed silent, thinking of what was the right thing to say. “I wanted Sammi to stay innocent. I didn’t want her to be like the fucked up girls who’d slim around us. She didn’t get crazy while she was high, which was great, but the main thing was Nikki. I knew Nikki would be the one giving her coke, and I’d get jealous every time he was around her. I guess I’m a major hypocrite,”

“It’s good that you at least know this. I want you to hold on to your thoughts about Sammi because I will be asking about your relationship later,” Dr. Hawkins instructed, Sammi and Vince glancing at each other. “Now, Sammi, if you never liked the boys taking things to the extreme and even when you have dipped your toes into their word, why did you stick so long? Besides the fact, you liked the gentlemen,”

Sammi bit her lip. “Because I felt like I had to protect them a lot of the time. I’m the only real responsible one, so I felt I needed to make sure everyone was okay in the end. And I failed at that,” Mick frowned at the last part of Sammi’s statement, knowing the weight of it.

“Was this because of Tommy being your brother? You felt as if everyone needed your protection? That’s a lot to handle for a young girl. You were barely becoming an adult,”

“I’m protective of Tommy in general even if he wasn’t with Motley. But after being around them and seeing that they were good guys underneath all the leather, I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened,” Sammi mumbled, feeling tears set in her eyes. She wiped away anything from her eyes that felt like a tear. “Even if I said mean things to the guys because I was angry, I still felt bad and wanted to continue protecting them. I’d say sorry and move on. They did dumb shit but would still try to make it a bit better,”

“We’re sorry, Sammi, for putting that pressure on you. Even if we didn’t realize it,” Mick said, Sammi smiled at him for a second.

“Did you ever feel like you failed at protecting the guys?” Sammi shrugged her shoulder, biting the inside of her cheek to stop tears from falling down, keeping a solid shell around her. Dr. Hawkins could see Sammi about to explode, passing a tissue box to the young woman. “Only you know the answer to this, Sammi,”

“Yeah, I did,” whispered Sammi.

“And when did you feel like you failed?”

“I’d probably say the last tour for obvious reasons,”

“How so?”

“Their manager had to cancel a leg of their tour because he thought they were going to die. Which wasn’t far off,” mumbled Sammi.

“Were you ever upfront about your feelings to the men? Did they listen?”

“No. and when they didn’t, I just repeated myself and blamed Nikki for everything when I shouldn’t have. And I regret our last conversation before everything,” Sammi chokes out in a gasp, frowning down at her lap, not wanting to see anyone look at her.  

Dr. Hawkins looked down at her notes from Nikki’s personal sessions, seeing the tally of times he’d mention a story about Sammi. “Nikki, I’ve noticed you're very quiet in comparison to other sessions. Would you like to speak up now?” Dr. Hawkins stated.

“I’m just letting the princess speak,” Nikki mumbled, resting his forehead against his knuckles, eyes closed as if he were trying to sleep. He hoped this was all a dream where he just missed Sammi so much, she invaded his mind again. Dr. Hawkin only gave a tight lip smile to Nikki, looking back at the almost sobbing Sammi. Sammi glanced at Nikki with watery eyes, the tiny bit of happiness coming from being called princess.

“What was it that you told Nikki, Sammi?”

Sammi swallowed away the lump in her throat. “The last thing I told Nikki was that everyone was better off with him. That all of us could be different if Nikki didn’t bring us down. And something else,” Sammi mumbled, finally wiping fallen tears away with a tissue.

“Was there a breaking point for you to say this?”

Sammi nodded. “He lied again about being off the junk and breaking up with his fiancee,” Nikki squeezed his eye shut tight from remembering that night. “We left L.A on good terms… great terms after another I left and became back to L.A,”

“Where you didn’t tell him about you leaving?” asked Dr. Hawkins.

Sammi nodded. “He promised he was clean from junk, and he’d been thinking about going to rehab. We even went out to dinner, and it felt great after breaking up. I thought it meant we could have a chance at something, start over. But then I talked to someone that was on tour with them, and I had enough. I was so hurt and angry that I couldn’t shut up. So I told him to forget about me and all of our history. But then I told him…” Tears came down Sammi’s face uncontrollably,  biting her lip to stop trembling. Sammi felt Mick put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tight in comfort. Sammi inhaled a shaky breath before continuing.

“I told him if he wanted to kill himself on heroin to do it because it was bound to happen. And I wouldn’t care when I get the call,” Sammi shut her eyes tight, a stream of hot tears cascading down her face.

Nikki held his head by his temples, hiding behind his hair as he heard the cries of the woman he loved. He could feel his own tears build-up, knowing how much Nikki has affected Sammi. Tommy held Sammi’s hand, trying to be the strong brother she needed. He felt as if he was reliving December all over again, seeing Sammi crying from heartbreak. Vince felt his own heartbreak, knowing how much Sammi loved Nikki. Of course, she would have the same reaction if one of them were in Nikki’s shoes, but it wouldn’t have the same weight. Vince could see Sammi’s pain, and it was a thousand times more than she could ever have for Vince.

“After what happened in December, I wanted to go back and never say it, then maybe he wouldn’t have…” Sammi biting her lip, looking up at Dr. Hawkins shakenly.

“Sammi, do you blame yourself for Nikki’s overdose?” Dr. Hawkins asked, taking a break from writing on her notes. Even for a therapist who's seen it all, Dr. Hawkins would be lying if she said Sammi’s face didn’t hurt her. Dr. Hawkins always had a soft spot for the younger people affected by addiction in their families. Sammi nodded slowly, tears continuing to fall. “You cannot blame yourself for something that wasn’t in your control,”

“But I still said it, and it happened two months later. How can I not? If I just listened to him for a minute and not get mad at Nikki, then maybe-,” Sammi said.

“It was going to happen again either way,” Nikki uttered out, looking up with red eyes at the room. His hair falling right on his face, not wanting to move it away. Sammi looked over at Nikki, confused with a frown as Nikki finally spoke. Mick, Tommy, and Vince gave each other knowing glances, thinking Nikki wouldn’t admit to his soon confession so early on.

“What?” Sammi whispered out. Nikki rubbed an eye with his palm, remaining his gaze away from Sammi.

“Do you remember Valentine's Day when we were in London, and I didn’t call you for two days? I said I was sick with something,” Nikki asked Sammi, scrunching deep wrinkles between his brows, staring down at his feet. Tommy and Mick remained to have a comforting hold on Sammi, Tommy’s grip a bit tighter.

“Yes…”

“I had overdosed and died that night,” Nikki said, sighing out as if he was holding his breath. “I went with a friend to a drug house, and the dealer shot me up because he offered. After that, I fainted and turned purple. The dealer then dumped me in a dumpster after beating the shit out of me to wake up,” Nikki scuffed at the memory.

When Nikki finally met Sammi’s big eyes, the ones that were his weakness, he felt his heart eventually shatter into pieces. Nikki could fully see the pain caused to the one woman who ever loved him for him and nothing else with a sober mind. The one woman who Nikki wished he had kept on a pedestal if he wasn’t selfish. Sammi stared at Nikki in a ray of emotion, not understanding how Nikki could support such a secret for two years. Then again, Sammi never understood how Nikki can hide so much of himself for others’ benefit. Sammi yanked her hand and shoulder away from Tommy and Mick, looking at them and Vince with confused anger.

“Sammi,” Tommy whispered, frowned eyebrows.

“Did you know about this? Did any of you know about this?” Sammi asked, frowning at all the men.

“No. Not exactly. We knew Nikki was in a dumpster when we were looking for him, but I promise Sam, we didn’t know it was because of that,” said Mick, trying to bring Sammi back down. “He finally admitted it two weeks ago,”

“When you told me that night that I was going to kill myself over heroin someday, I didn’t take it as a green light to do it. Because if I did, I would’ve dropped dead right there in Oakland. You were the last person I had that cared about me, and I threw it away. I needed something so terrible to happen to me so I could listen. I tried to just have you as a reason to quit junk, and it didn’t work. I was in too deep,” Nikki said, staring deep into Sammi’s glossy eyes, sighing out.

“I’m sorry for it all, Sammi. I am so sorry for everything I put you through. But you shouldn’t blame yourself because of my mistakes,” Nikki rubbed his hands together, sitting deeper into his chair, not knowing what else to say. Sammi stared at Nikki for a good minute, the tears drying on her cheeks with traces of mascara mixed in. She rubbed her head as everyone was silent. Dr. Hawkins examined how everyone appeared. They all looked tired from all the chaos that was their lives. Hawkins wrote down a few bullet points for her colleagues to keep track of when it was time for the band's personal sessions, now hoping for a time to move forward.

“This is good. It’s necessary to open up about the things we keep hidden inside. When else would you have these kinds of conversations?” Dr. Hawkins said, smiling at everyone.

“I would say over drinks but fuck that,” Sammi mumbled, wiping away all her tears, the guys snickering along with her.

“Now, Vince, would you like to talk about your relationship with Sammi?”

“No,” Vince blurted out straightforwardly.

“And why not?” Dr. Hawkins asked kindly.

“Because there isn’t much to talk about. We dated. I cheated. Sammi got with Nikki. I hated it, and that’s it,”

“Well, I did tell you to hold onto that thought. Why did you hate it when Sammi decided to spend her time with Nikki?”

Vince sighed out, shifting over a leg to feel comfortable. “To me, it felt like she lied. She told me she and Nikki never had sex before we got together; it turns out they did. It just made me think if anything happened when we were together. Sammi said they didn’t, but I don’t know,”

“But you were the only one to have an affair while the relationship was going on. You’ve called yourself a hypocrite for it. So why continue this attitude if you seem to know the error?”

“Because he’s an egotistical prick,” Sammi said, looking down at her nails. Tommy hid his mouth in his hands, trying to not show too much of the smile he had on. Dr. Hawkins' attention turned to Sammi with a smile.

“I am not!” Vince objected out loud. Mick and Nikki relaxed, ready for the show to begin where they knew there’d be no crying.

“Yeah, you are! You fucking got mad at me for even suggesting rehab two months ago!”

“Why do you think Vince is egotistical, Sammi?”

“Because he can’t admit to his own mistakes. Before everything, he would sleep with girls around me all the time before we got together, one of them being my old best friend, and I don’t say anything. I only slept with Nikki once before Vince and I were together, and Vince gets mad when he finds out even when we aren’t together anymore. He cheats and gets into a relationship with the woman. I don’t do anything. I get with Nikki and keep it to ourselves; he acts as I cheated on him. He has no leg to stand on for being mad at me,” complained Sammi with a huff.

“Nikki, did you try to get with Sammi when she was in a relationship with Vince?”

Nikki thought about it for a moment, trying to remember the short romance of Sammi and Vince. “Not really. I’d flirt with her constantly, but I never tried anything. I would tell her Vince was going to cheat on her every chance I got through,”

“You knew about him cheating? Did you two know about Vince’s cheating, Tommy and Mick?”

“No,” the three said in unison. “If you know Vince, you know he can’t keep it in his pants. I’d tell her in a way to get back with me, and in the end, I was right,” said Nikki.

“I’ve gotten better at keeping it in my pants, okay? But I still can’t be hurt that my ex gets with one of my bandmates?” Vince asks in general to everyone.

“You can for a while, but dude, you have to admit that what you did to Sammi was way worse. I even told Nikki he was a better boyfriend to Sammi. Sammi living her life wasn’t your business anymore after they got together,” said Tommy.

“I know!”

“Then stop being a little bitch if Nikki and Sammi want to be together,” Mick ordered, crossing his arms. Nikki and Sammi glanced at each other, holding a gaze as if they were able to read what the other was thinking. Sammi looked away, pulling her earlobe as Mick judged Vince. Vince slouched in his chair, looking down at the floor like a little boy.

“Vince, do you believe the reason you’re mad at Sammi is that she somewhat treated you the way you’ve treated women?” Dr. Hawkins asked, Vince and Sammi both scrunching their eyebrows together.

“What?” Sammi asked.

“Huh?” Vince asked.

“You’ve been explicit about your habit with women in private sessions, stating the pattern of finding someone soon after leaving someone else. In a way, after the breakup with you, Sammi moved on with someone else. Sammi also said you slept with women right before you two got into a relationship. She had relations with Nikki before you two got into a relationship. You’re angry because Sammi chose herself just like you’ve always done,”

“Wow, we’ve struck gold,” Tommy said all of a sudden, making Mick withhold a chuckle. Sammi smacked Tommy’s arm to shut him up, looking at Vince sympathetically.

“Vince, our relationship was nice, but you weren’t ready to be in a fully committed relationship. Can we just move on, please?” pleaded Sammi.

Vince only kept his eyes on the floor. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” Sammi didn’t believe it.

“Well, I think we’ve all made some progress here. Things out in the open moving forward with your fours sobriety,” said Dr. Hawkins with a proud smile on her face. “Any questions before ending today’s session?”

“Yeah, do people feel exhausted after a therapy session?” asked Sammi. This earned her a chuckle from Dr. Hawkins.

“Yes, Sammi. Yes, they do,”

*

After the great therapy session, the men decided it was best to show Sammi around the roof over their heads. Activities are done across the rehab to help keep addicts at ease and find other hobbies. Sammi had noticed how the guys were beginning to gain some muscle. It was proving wonders already.

“How much longer do you guys have in here?” asked Sammi sitting down by a shaded area.

“February just started so until the end of the month. We want to get that 60-day chip,” said Tommy with a smile.

“Wow. Well, everyone is proud of you guys back home. I told mama to give her an update when I get back,” said Sammi, pinching Tommy’s cheek.

“And when will that be?” asked Mick.

Sammi checked the watch on her wrist. “Shit… in about four hours. This was only a one day kind of deal,”

“Damn. At least we’re going to stay home for a bit before hitting up Canada,” said Vince. Sammi scrunched her brows together, looking at Nikki for some answers. He didn’t want to look at Sammi after therapy. Nikki didn’t want to see anyone after this session. “We’re gonna start the next album sometime after rehab. No one wants to lose their momentum,” explained Vince.

“Great, I’ll be more bored without you!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Little Girl. You can come to visit us whenever. We’d love it,” said Mick with a smile.

“I’d love that,” said Sammi. The five stayed in content silence for a while before Sammi stood up again. “Well, I love seeing you, but I have to get going. I don’t want to miss my flight,” Sammi said, going first to hug Tommy. It felt nice for Tommy to have somewhat of normalcy with just one hug. Moving on to Mick was surprisingly sweet, knowing hugs weren’t his thing. Vince didn’t stay too close, only giving Sammi a side hug. When Sammi stood in front of Nikki, it was as if there was an invisible force between them. They stared at each other for a moment until Sammi took the plunge. Sammi swiftly wrapped her arms around Nikki’s torso, relieved to feel the same reciprocated. Vince looked away at the two as Nikki hid his face in Sammi’s hair. The two stayed silent even as they pulled away, eyes meeting only.

Nikki only wished this wasn’t his present. Wishing to join Sammi to walk out of here and get back to California.

[writethehousedown]

Lesson In Love (Gigi x Jackie) - Mina

A/N: So excited to participate in one of these challenges again, you treated me so well last time so I’m so excited to release this! Ty so so much to @dollalpaca for being an angel and betaing

Summary: Gigi may or may not be failing her music studies class. She also may or may not have caught feelings for the pretty Persian woman that offered to tutor her. Maybe. She’ll never tell.

“Janet,” Gigi groaned, narrowly avoiding falling off the couch as she rolled over and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. It was leopard-printed, a gift from Jan to themselves from when they moved into the apartment. “Do you think ‘Intro to Floral Arrangement’ sounds like an easy class? Or do you know anyone who’s taken it?”

“Isn’t it an evening class? I feel like we went over that one like… twenty minutes ago.” The blonde hummed from the floor, not bothering to look up. She was probably right, too. She had her own laptop in front of her, in the process of color-coding her online calendar. Blue for lectures, green for labs and purple for choir practices. Gigi had seen her do this enough times - every semester since they met on move-in day their first year - to be able to recognize the blocks in her schedule at a glance. Sometimes it motivated her knowing that Jan could be so on top of things while also being the most chaotic person Gigi knew, other times it made her want to die and be reborn into someone who could organise her sock draw by diameter.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She frowned, letting out a deep sigh and closing the tab. Goodbye, department of nature studies. So long, her potential florist career.

The thing was, Gigi knew she couldn’t really afford to be particularly picky with only five days before the registration period ended, but still. At least, she thought, she’d long been enrolled in all her textile-related classes for the semester. She was looking forward to most of them too, especially the design ones. Really, it was just that one additional stupid arts gen ed course she needed to get out of the way, and then she’d be free for good.

“How about ‘Art of Listening’?” Gigi asked a few minutes later, reading over the course information. She heard the sound of Jan typing on her keyboard come to a halt. “That kinda sounds like a class for people that want to become therapists or something. Or marriage counsellors?”

“Maybe people that are gonna need marriage counselling, sure,” Jan replied, her typing picking up again.

Gigi laughed, running a hand through her hair and looking back at her screen. “It doesn’t seem too bad, y’know. Just two papers and a final.” She hummed, scrolling through last year’s syllabus. “And it’s actually about music, I could totally do that.”

“Wait, who’s the prof for it?”

“Uh… something-Nguyen I think?“ Gigi paused as she scrolled back up. “Yeah, Andrew Nguyen, why?”

“Oh, that’s the one!” Jan nodded happily. “Rock took it last semester, I think. I remember her talking about it when we first met, she was always complaining about the prof who—”

“Great, you should have just lead with that.” Gigi rolled her eyes as she closed the tab. Rock was one of the more easy going people she’d ever met when it came to that stuff, so she couldn’t imagine what a prof that annoyed her would be like. Probably awful, or at least had a bad taste in anime. A soft but slightly damp piece of fabric hit her in the nose before falling down in front of her, disheartened. She scrunched up her nose in distaste when she realised what Jan just threw at her.

“Why are you throwing your dirty socks at me?” Gigi screeched, picking it up and throwing it back in the blonde’s general direction. “And why is it wet?”

“If you’d just let me finish!” She rolled her eyes pointedly, leaning to grab the sock again. It was a little too far for her to reach, and Gigi watched her stubbornly wiggle to the side until she could close her fingers around it. She smiled victoriously, huffing a little as she leaned back against the couch and made herself stand up straight. “As I was saying,” she started again, enunciating carefully.

“Before I rudely interrupted you.” Gigi grinned down, picking at her nails.

“Yes, before you did indeed do that,” Jan huffed, “Rock took it last semester. And she was always annoyed because the prof didn’t always let them use their laptops in class, but she also said that it was really easy. Most of the time they just had to listen to some music and write about how it made them feel, that sort of stuff.”

“That sounds pretty easy.”

“Right?” Jan nodded excitedly, “And I think she mentioned one of her friends is taking it this semester too. A senior, so she’s probably in the same boat as you.”

Gigi didn’t think that’d make much of a difference, but she didn’t bother telling Jan that. It wasn’t like the class had group projects anyway, so she could hopefully get by with just showing to most lectures and turning in the assignments.

“I really should have done this over the summer, you were right about that,” she exhaled, shutting her laptop and falling back into the couch. She could have gotten those mandatory art electives outside of her major done as a freshmen, or even last year, like most other students in her program did.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,“ Jan chuckled, moving closer until she could rest her head comfortably on Gigi’s shoulder, blonde hair falling all over her face. “You’ll do great, because you always do; you’re talented, but you also work hard. So you’re gonna ace all your actual photography classes, pass this one, and be done with all your dumb degree requirements. And then next year you can take all the textiles classes you want, I’ll take all the music production classes I want, we’ll go to each other’s senior showcases, and barely even remember all the time we wasted on the ugly classes we didn’t care about.”

When Jan put it that way, it sounded pretty easy. *** After three weeks of classes, Gigi felt like she could safely conclude that the class was… Not that bad. If she had to give the class a grade it’d be a solid C-, bordering on a straight-up C. It was mostly filled with freshmen from the arts faculty trying to get an easy A, a solid half of whom had already stopped showing up to lectures. And yes, it was weird being back in a two hundred-person room when most of her other classes were forty at most. She had to turn in weekly written assignments, which was also not fun, but writing five hundred words once a week wasn’t a time commitment she couldn’t handle. The problem, though, was that as far as she could tell from those three first weeks, that supposedly-easy class would also n’ot rate the level of effort Gigi had put in as anything more than a C either. Which was definitely not what she wanted out of it. Far from it.

The class did have one major saving grace, a light in the dark and a minor help in stopping Gigi from quitting the class on day one, in the form of a fellow student.

Gigi didn’t know her name, or her major, or anything tangible about her, which was a little unfortunate. She did, however, know that the girl had legs. Long and strong, with toned thighs that suggested at least some form of semi-regular exercise, and looked equally good in the kind of wide-legged, loose cotton pants Gigi herself favoured as they did in denim cutoffs. She had really nice hands too, which the brunette found out about when they accidentally reached for the same assignment sheet. They looked soft, strong and capable and careful. They’d be nice to hold, or to have holding her down tightly, or tangled in her hair while she sucked bruises into her equally-beautiful thighs.

So yeah, you could say Gigi was kind of enjoying the course, sure.

The girl usually sat at the front of the room, in the very first row from where you kind of had to strain your neck upwards to see what was on the board. Gigi knew, because that was also where she sat during the first two weeks, until she realised this wasn’t going to be the kind of lecture where she could talk all the way through the lesson without the professor caring, not if she wanted to do more than just pass, anyway. The girl usually brought her laptop to class too - covered in political stickers and pictures of cartoons Gigi didn’t know. One time the brunette walked past her, only to see a video of a crab walking up a pile of sand playing in the corner of her screen.

Gigi could remember that she made a point about the role of music in religious movements when prompted, and how that connected to society’s idea of liveliness within places of worship. Gigi didn’t really remember the details, mostly because some of it had just flown way over her head, but their professor had been very impressed. When he had said so, instead of the self-satisfied smile that the brunette had been expecting, the girl had looked down at her notes, one arm twitching like she was resisting the urge to scratch at the back of her neck in embarrassment.

Gigi thought she’d even blushed a little, and really, no one should have had the right to be both this attractive and adorable at the same time. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the crab video, which was definitely weird, even by art faculty standards. But for her, she thought she might be willing to overlook it.

geege ok this girl at the front of listening class? so hot she’s like 90 percent leg and 40 percent sexy aunt energy

janjanjan sounds Hot

geege i’d let her walk all over me and say ty she’d just be like :] and tell me about the periodic table or smth

janjanjan okay maybe let’s stop there like keep the rest for when you’re alone at home

geege or in the shower

janjanjan thanks not like i use that shower too The thing was, Gigi wasn’t new to having crushes. At all. So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to herself that she ended up developing crushes on more than a few of the people she met. Most of them were great, a lot of them were cute, and a few left her heart beating that much faster as she found herself wishing for their conversations to never end.

What was new (or disconcerting, if she were to listen to the Jan voice in her head), was Gigi feeling that way about someone she’d never talked to. Gigi still didn’t know anything about her, other than what she looked like and the sound of her voice - but god did she want to know.

And it felt like it’d been years, so many years, since Gigi had felt too shy to just go up to someone she wanted to know better and introduce herself. She’d felt anxious before, maybe a little self-conscious, but not the kind of shyness that turned into complete inaction. She found herself looking forward to the class, though not the actual work. *** She, Gigi thought, was currently winning at life.

She was done with classes for the week, had no plans that required her to get out of her sweatpants for the next twenty four hours, and was currently sitting back on the couch surrounded by food and two of her favourite people.

So yeah, life was pretty fucking great right now.

She leaned back against one arm of the sofa, a forgotten ball of yarn and half knitted almost-scarf in one hand and the other casually playing with Jan’s hair. The blonde was laying down on the couch, the only one out of the three of them that could kind of do so without most of her legs hanging off one end. Her head was resting on Gigi’s lap while her feet were in Rock’s.

Friday evening was their unofficially -designated group hang out time, a tradition that developed the last few months without any of them being aware of it, but now it was something that she wouldn’t miss for the world. It usually just meant Thai food, bitching about their classes, and whatever booze one of the other two decided to pick up. When Rock made grabby hands at her, Gigi grabbed an unopened can of sparkling water she brought for today and passed it on.

“Thank you,” Rock chuckled as she cracked it open, leaning forward to catch some of the foam that came out before it had a chance to further stain the couch. “Y’know,” she started, as she watched Gigi reach over for the mostly-empty bag of popcorn on the table. “I could just ask Jackie to help you out with the class.”

The brunette’s fingers closed on thin air, the bag of popcorn she was aiming for remaining just out of reach. “Who’s Jackie?” she asked absently, shuffling forward gently and trying not to dislodge Jan’s head from her lap.

Jan flicked her on the thigh regardless. “Rock’s friend, the one I told you about when you signed up! And, y’know, the one that’s also taking the class right now.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised. She totally remembered that, right. Her fingers grazed the bag of popcorn again, but in her haste she just ended up pushing it a few inches further away, balancing precariously on one edge of the table. “That Jackie.”

“I think she tutored, like, half her contemporary fiction class last year. So you know she’s gotta be good at actually teaching things, and not just smart,” Jan continued, as though Gigi’s attention was mostly captured by the pursuit of academics. One more inch, she leaned in a little further, balancing her weight on one arm. She just needed to get one inch closer and the bag would be hers. She could already taste the powdery, buttery, amazingness on her tongue.

“And Rockie’s always talking about how her old professor still basically cries about not being able to convince her to stay in the department. I’m pretty sure she’d totally still take him on as a grad student if Jackie just asked, nevermind that she transferred out more than two years ago.”

“So what do you think?” The blonde finished, a little more loudly, like she realised Gigi had tuned her out a bit. And Gigi had, yes, but she could finally feel her fingers closing in on the bag, triumphantly reaching in and stuffing a handful of popcorn - fat free - into her mouth. “Do you want Rock to ask Jackie when she has some time to meet up with you? Or maybe just give her your number, if that’s easier?”

“What? No, don’t do that. I’m not doing that bad.” Gigi laughed slightly, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m all good.”

“It’s too late anyway,” Rock laughed, all faux-casual. “I already messaged her.” She shoved her phone in front of Gigi’s face, and yeah, right there, that was a message saying just that, complete with her own number at the end.

“Why would you do that?” She complained loudly, tapping at the screen furiously to try and make it delete. It wasn’t that she was against the idea of getting help with the class, but mostly she was reluctant to have it taking up more of her time than it already did. Especially when she didn’t even know the girl.

“You need help!” Rock said with a yelp, avoiding the kick Gigi aimed at her. “She can help! It’s a perfect solution, why are you trying to hit me!” The last one landed just under her armpit, drawing out a higher-pitched squeal. “Besides, Jan agreed with me that it’s a good idea,” she added, turning expectantly towards her. “Tell her how you were the first one to even suggest it.”

Next to them, Jan had indeed been suspiciously quiet. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Gigi asked, poking the older woman in the chest.

“Don’t you want to see what your soon-to-be tutor looks like, Geege?” Jan giggled, ignoring her question.

“Oh, you’re right, let me show you her insta,” Rock butted in, her thumbs moving on her phone screen for a moment before handing it to Gigi with an evil smile.

Jacqueline Coxx, the profile read, next to a very familiar, grinning face. The same very familiar, grinning face that Gigi had spent many a lesson fawning over. This had to be a mistake, there was no way. “You should really be better at Instagram-stalking people,” Jan laughed as Gigi felt her mind going blank. “I think it’s the only skill that’s going to save our generation from lifelong unemployment. Or underemployment, for that matter.”

The brunette didn’t give it a second thought before she pushed her off the couch and onto the floor, screams of unacceptable betrayal and terrified excitement echoing loud in the room.

*** geege hiiiii is this jackie cox? this is gigi, roxanne’s friend from the listening class she said she’d told you i would message you geege but in case she didn’t i wanted to ask you about some tutoring if you could tutor me i mean geege but if you can’t that’s all good !! don’t feel like you have to say yes just bc of rocks stupid puppy eyes oh and sorry about the triple-text ***

“I more than triple-texted her, but three separate times,” Gigi groaned, burying her face in between the couch cushions.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Jan comforted, running a hand through her hair. Gigi would maybe feel a little bad about how much complaining she’d been doing over this, but everytime she thought of stopping, she reminded herself that Jan was at least forty-five percent to blame for this in the first place.

“It’s been more than two days. When’s the last time you went forty-eight hours without checking your phone? And be honest.”

Jan’s silence was enough of an answer. *** Jackie Hey Gigi! Rock did tell me about you, it’s all good Do you want to meet up after class on monday to figure out the details? Oh and sorry for such a late reply My phone was broken after i dropped it in a lake while i was hiking *** In an ideal world, Gigi would have planned things so she could get to class nice and early on the day she was supposed to properly meet Jackie. She’d have maybe put a little more thought than usual into her outfit, and made sure her hair looked good. Worn that red headband she knew did great things for her forehead and her eyebrows, maybe. Not that Gigi ever looked like a slob, but she definitely had clothes she liked more than others, and that she thought served her better for seduction purposes. Or even for just ‘making a decent first impression’, which she’d really settle for right now, as she ran up the final flight of stairs. Nothing said ‘I’m serious about needing help with this class’ like showing up late, especially for a course where attendance was actually recorded.

She spotted the door to the classroom still cracked open at the end of the hallway and slowed down a little, trying to catch her breath. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping that’d tame the mess a little and her cheeks wouldn’t be too red from the unexpected burst of athleticism. At the front of the room, their professor has already started talking, and Gigi quietly slipped into the first free seat she spotted, grateful to have avoided drawing everyone’s attention to herself.

It was only minutes before the class ended that Gigi thought to look around for Jackie, peering across the middle rows of students before she accepted that she wouldn’t dare sit anywhere but the very front row. She tried to lean forward to glance at the first row once or twice, eventually accepting that there was no way she could be subtle and standing the slightest bit up from her chair. The first row was mostly empty, as it usually tended to be. Gigi recognized a girl from the Image Composition class she took last semester, and thought about saying hi to her after class when she remembered she had a goal here. As she let her gaze move through the other students in the front, it eventually landed on Jackie, although Gigi had to do a double-take to make sure it was definitely her.

The thing was, she’d gotten to see - unknowingly, at the time - Jackie often enough since the semester started to get a sense of her style. And from Gigi’s weeks of casual observation, she tended to favour loose, comfortable clothes, and mostly neutral colours. She liked floral patterns too, especially on shirts, which the brunette could appreciate.

However, the first thing she noticed today was Jackie’s hair. And really, Gigi thought that if it wasn’t for the bright smile and the longest legs known to humankind, she wouldn’t have even recognized her.

The messy dark brown hair that Gigi had gotten used to, and maybe dreamt about running her hands through once or twice, was now four inches shorter and numbingly straight, effortlessly falling over her forehead and almost into her eyes when she looked down. Something about the flawlessness of her hair combined with the white hoodie she was wearing seemed to make her face glow, skin tanned and radiant with pearly teeth glinting through a bemused grin as she laughed at something her friend was saying.

Damn.

She was brought out of her daydreaming by the sound of students around her packing up their things, and Gigi realised that she most likely missed the professor dismissing their class. As she struggled with the zipper of her bag, the same one she’d been meaning to get fixed for the last three months but still hadn’t, she felt a hand hesitantly tap on her shoulder, warm against the thin material of her shirt.

“Hey, Georgia right?” A voice asked right behind her, and when Gigi turned around Jackie looked just as good as she did the first time she saw her at the beginning of the semester.

“Gigi. I’m— my name— Yep, hi, that’s me. What’s shaking?” The brunette chuckled awkwardly, “Thank you so much for agreeing to help me out, I really appreciate it! Or at least agreeing to consider it I mean, I know we really just said we’d talk about the details today, so you technically haven’t agreed to anything yet. And you don’t have to, obviously.”

Jackie didn’t seem thrown off by the sudden explosion of words and gratefulness, which Gigi took to be a good sign. If anything, her smile only grew less hesitant, the tiniest dimple appearing on her left cheek.

“We could, like, go to that library around the block? It’s a nice place to study, so.” Gigi nodded, following Jackie and making awkward small talk until they made it inside. She learned in those quick minutes that Jackie liked crabs, and geography, and obscure movie references no one else understood.

“It’s been a while since I was here to be honest.” Jackie grinned, swiping at her phone casually. “I missed it.”

"Right, Rock mentioned you’d transferred out of the faculty.”

The brunette hummed in agreement, looking a little surprised at Gigi’s knowing about this. “Yeah, I swapped my major and minor back halfway through my second year. Geo major with a minor in stage production now.” She made little jazz hand motions as she said it, and the brunette really wished she didn’t find it half as endearing as she did.

“Okay, so, tell me more about what you’ve been struggling with so far,” Jackie asked with a tilt of her head, and they got down to business. *** Maybe it was a little self-sabotaging (or self-serving, she could never quite decide), but part of what Gigi quickly found out she liked best about their bi-weekly tutoring sessions, was how much time she got to just stare at Jackie. She’d finish writing up the draft of her weekly listening assignment and pass it on for the older woman to read over, and get a solid five-to-ten minutes of ogling out of it.

Not that she was ogling her per se, that sounded bad. She was just… appreciating. Appreciating Jackie’s arms, and her neck, and her cheekbones, and her brain as she read through Gigi’s outline. Every now and then, Gigi would catch her frowning slightly, bringing her pen to the paper and tapping over the words as she read a section a few times over before making a quick note and moving on. It was kind of embarrassing how devastatingly cute Gigi found the whole thing, honestly. Like how the way she was resting her head on one hand, her fingers accidentally creating a gap that just perfectly framed the dimple on her left cheek.

“Hey, Geege,” Jackie suddenly smiled as she turned towards her. Fuck. Gigi really hoped her face wasn’t making what she was just doing incredibly obvious. “What did you have in mind for this part here?” She asked, shuffling her chair to bridge the space between the two of them.

“Which part?” Gigi shakily replied, leaning in a little. The paper she wrote her outline on was on the table, technically close enough for both of them to read, but just barely. Gigi told herself that was her excuse for moving in a few inches more, until their hands were almost meeting on the sheet of paper. Almost.

Jackie was making it hard for Gigi to focus, leaving her stumbling through the start of an explanation of the admittedly somewhat unclear point she’d made in her outline about the sudden change in rhythm. As she got into the meat of her point, she could feel herself getting more confidence, gesturing with her hands as the words started coming out more easily, and Jackie nodded in wordless understanding. It only took a few sessions to realize that if there was one thing Jackie was good at, it’s listening. It never felt like she was trying to put answers into Gigi’s mouth - letting her explain her perception of the music instead, and asking questions when needed. She made Gigi feel like even if writing about how she experienced music as an art form would never come all that naturally to her, not in the way sewing or even most visual arts did, it was something that was still within her reach. Something she could understand and relate to.

“So, are you saying it felt expected to you?” Jackie asked eventually, after Gigi paused. “Like it was building up to this in the previous parts? Or that it caught your attention specifically because it was sudden? Or out-of-place, maybe.”

The brunette took a moment to think, replaying the lead-up to that section in her head.

They weren’t even touching, but she could feel the heat radiating off the older woman’s skin. She could feel the warmth, could see it in Jackie’s gaze as she looked softly back at her, she could smell it even. And Gigi knows that didn’t actually make sense, that all she was probably smelling was laundry detergent and sweat and maybe coffee. Gigi didn’t even like the smell of coffee. But right now, sitting side-by-side in the library and alternating between emphatically talking and listening to each other, Gigi felt like all of those things.

It was only when they both moved on from that particular point, a few messy notes from Jackie hastily written to Gigi’s own words, that she realized just how close they’d gotten. She was well into Jackie’s personal space, their shoulders no longer content just brushing against each other occasionally but rather aligned against one another. No wonder she could smell the coffee.

She started to move back slowly, not wanting to draw attention to how close she’d gotten, but a sharp sting on her ear stopped her mid-motion. She let out a small cry of pain, Jackie immediately turning to face her. The older girl felt impossibly closer than a moment ago.

“I think my earring got caught in your shirt,” Gigi said quietly, a pained and nervous giggle leaping from the back of her throat. She remembered putting them on this morning, long and dangly strips of silver shaped like eyes, and thinking about how they might get stuck in her hair. If the lack of distance between the two of them went unnoticed earlier, it was definitely no longer the case. Gigi felt incredibly conscious of every exhale of her breath, of Jackie’s face only inches away from hers. The guy in the seat in front of them threw them a dirty look, like he was annoyed at how wrong Gigi’s flirting attempts had turned out. She couldn’t really blame him because, what the fuck, they had turned out pretty bad, huh.

“Hold on,” Jackie breathed, “let me untangle it for you.” Gigi knew she was speaking quietly because they were in a library, and so close to each other anything above a whisper was unnecessary, but she was struck hard by the intimacy of it nonetheless. She couldn’t decipher whether choosing to wear those earrings today was the best or worst decision she’d ever made.

Jackie reached for the end that got caught, carefully lifting it away from the threads of her sweater. It was the kind of tangle no one could probably ever manage to achieve if they tried, and yet happened without either of them realizing it. When she moved to grasp at the fabric a little more firmly, her fingers brushed against Gigi’s neck, unexpected. And maybe it’s stupid to feel so thoroughly destabilized by the mere touch of a fleeting hand, but Gigi found herself forgetting to breathe for a few seconds.

“There,” Jackie chuckled as the earring finally came free, looking in Gigi’s direction without directly meeting her gaze. “I think you’re all good now.”

Gigi thanked her politely, but she’d be the first to admit she found it hard to focus during the rest of their session, every brush of air or clothing against her neck making her shiver at the memory of Jackie’s fingers. ***

“Wait, Jackie Coxx?” Crystal asked the next time Gigi met up with her to catch up over some drinks in their favorite dive bar. Crystal had technically been Jan’s friend first, but she and Gigi had gotten a lot closer over the years, bonding over a love of what their friends would lovingly call ‘loud’ and ‘confident’ clothing choices. “‘Trips on her own feet’ Jackie Coxx?” Crystal continued, the grin on her face widening as Gigi felt her cheeks heating up. “Follows at least three Twitter accounts dedicated to Star Trek? Rockie’s junior year baby crush? The same—”

“Rock is still a junior, Crys,” Gigi interrupted, laughing, because— what. What. “And wait, she has a crush on Jackie? My Jackie?”

“So not the point,” Crystal answered, still smiling like this was the best news she’d heard all week. “My Jackie huh? God, you’re such a simp—”

“No.” Gigi groaned, dragging out the ‘o’. “Back to Rock. My best friend, Janet fucking Sport, is head over heels, stupidly in love with Rock. And I don’t care how adorable she is, if what you’re telling me is true, she’s just been… been using her! And that really this whole time she’s just been waiting and pining for Jackie! As if Jan didn’t—”

It was Crystal’s turn to interrupt this time, the smile having faded away from her face to leave way for a confused expression. “Gigi, Gigi, stop for a second,” she repeated, a little more forceful than the brunette was used to hearing her speak. “Come on, think of all the time you’ve spent with Rock, with both of them. Have you ever gotten the impression that she was anything that a hundred and ten percent in?”

The brunette closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Jan ditching her and Nicky to go hang out with Rock every Friday. Of Jan dragging her to go shopping on the weekend before Valentine’s day, an itemized and color-coded list of stores and potential gifts saved on her phone. Crystal definitely has a point, Gigi let herself recognize, deflating as the potential anger left her body as quickly as it had arrived.

“Rock did a tour of the university, back when she was still in high school and she wasn’t completely sure what program to apply for. Jackie was the one doing it apparently.” The red head paused to take a sip of her drink, grimacing a little at the taste. Why she kept ordering those novelty IPAs everywhere they went despite knowing full well she didn’t like how hoppy they were, Gigi had no idea. “I think she just made Rock feel comfortable, you know? Like, it was fine that she didn’t have everything figured out already, and made sure she knew she wasn’t making a decision at seventeen that she could never walk back. So Jackie gave her her number in case she had any questions, and then they actually started hanging out together once Rock started this year.”

“Oh,” Gigi realised, “that does really sound like her, yeah.” She could imagine it in her head, Rock a little younger and more unsure, not all that dissimilar from how she behaved when Jan first introduced the two of them to each other.

It was strange, remembering that a few months ago she would avoid directly meeting her gaze or spending any one-on-one time with her, when she could also recall the ‘u up’ and ‘netflix? :)’ texts she received from the shorter woman last night. It also really sounded like Jackie, although she didn’t tell Crystal so. It was just as easy to imagine her taking the time to reassure a worried high-school student without making her feel like she was being talked down to.

Crystal was still looking at her expectantly, and Gigi couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how strongly she reacted. “So, not an actual crush then?”

“Nope, she just thinks Jackie is really cool. God knows why, because based on what I’ve heard, she’s kind of a giant dork.”

“Hot giant dork.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should have asked you that first.”

“Uh-huh,” Crystal replied, giving Gigi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You should ask her for the full story, actually. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before, but she tells it much better than I do. And maybe you want to spend some time thinking about why you reacted that quickly, because we both know Jan is a pretty flimsy excuse.”

The brunette sighed loudly. “It’s just a crush, it’s nothing.” It didn’t sound convincing even to herself. Back when Jackie was just the hot girl in her class, that would have probably been true, but it felt like a long time ago now.

Crystal rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “That was a lot more believable five minutes ago, but sure.”

Gigi made sure to hit her in the leg for that, laughing easily and sputtering mindlessly about how she had it all wrong.

“Wait, what did Rock used to want to study, back when she was in high school?”

There was a long pause, before Crystal finally cackled., “Video game design.” *** geege do you think it’s weird

rockstar YES

geege … to ask someone if you can platonically caress their cheeks kiss them on the forehead at least wait till i finish to be mean

rockstar u know what this is both not as weird AND weirder than i expected ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

geege what do I do roxanne she’s not gonna tutor me forever. the final is less than a month away how do i tell her i wanna date her without seeming like i wanna date her

rockstar go up to her and be like ‘if we played pokemon together, we’d be a pokematch’ ;)))

geege what

rockstar will you be the nidoking to my nidoqueen

geege tf those sound like the names of drugs

rockstar yk it was one thing when you were just thirsting after the hot girl in ur class but now it’s actual feelings how embarrassing

geege u have given me a solid amount of advice. none.

rockstar k fair how about i pick up noodles on my way back? and we can eat that for dinner while you tell me all about ur gay crush without my consent

geege i like the chicken stir fry ones

*** “Do you want to listen to it again, maybe?” Jackie asked, reaching for her headphones. “Then you can tell me the exact part you’re thinking of.”

It was another Wednesday afternoon, but this time they’d ditched the library in favor of a small coffee shop that was closer to where Jackie lived. It was artsy in a way that Gigi was used to, a little hipster, but not actually fancy enough to properly lay claim on the word. The tables were a little worn in and wobbly, the lattes a little too cheap, and the art prints on the wall either too well-known or not enough.

“Sure, just give me a second.” Gigi took the earbud the Persian woman offered her, making an aborted motion towards the computer, before following through as Jackie nodded at her with a soft smile. The older woman’s phone vibrated on the table between them, and she took a quick glance at the screen before putting it back down with a little more force than necessary.

It took Gigi a few tries to find the part she had in mind when mentioning texture, replaying the same part a few times over until she was fairly certain she found what she was looking for. “That part here, until the tempo slows down again—”

The brunette was cut off by the sound of Jackie’s phone vibrating on the table again, lighting up with a missed call notification and some texts.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the Persian woman cursed sheepishly. “This is so rude. I’m sorry, Geege, I should have just turned it off earlier.” She sounded a little annoyed, but mostly flustered, taking a quick look at the screen before flipping it back over facing down.

She flashed the younger woman an apologetic smile, her cheeks coloring a little as she pointedly pushed the phone away from her.

“Are you sure everything is okay? We can take a break if you need to deal with some stuff? Or even just cancel for today, I think I have basically everything I need to finish writing this up, so.”

“No, no, âsemun be zamin nemiyâd,” Jackie protested, mind clearly elsewhere. “It’s nothing, really. Or, well, it is something I guess, but it’s kind of stupid and I shouldn’t let it distract me, you know?”

Gigi hummed noncommittally, not wanting to force her to talk about whatever this was if she didn’t want to, but finding herself unwilling to acknowledge it as something stupid either. She offered Jackie what she hoped was a quick and comforting smile instead.

“I just…” She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I’ve been waiting to hear back from this prof about a recommendation letter for grad school? And she’d said yes before, but some more students asked her, and she has this thing about not writing more than five letters per year, I don’t know. So she said she’d get back to me today or tomorrow to confirm, and I’ve just been really stressed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. That sounds really stressful.” Gigi brought a hand to Jackie’s shoulders, squeezing the back of her neck lightly. She tried to avoid doing too much extensive thinking about what she might do after college, but she doubted it was a train of thought that’d ever made anyone feel good.

“It’s okay, I should be used to it.” Jackie shrugged with resignation. “It’s just that every time I remember I’m waiting to hear back from her it makes me think of next year, and what’ll happen if I don’t get in? Or if I do, because it’s like I really know that grad school is what I want to do, you know?” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and Gigi really wished they were close enough friends for her to offer Jackie a hug or something.

“Just call your prof back now. You should have said something earlier, and we could have rescheduled.”

“Oh,” Jackie breathed out, sounding inexplicably surprised as she turned towards her. “No, no, no, no, that’s not necessary. That wasn’t her. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess today, let’s just get back to this thing, yeah?”

Gigi nodded, reaching for the headphones and passing one on to her. In a lot of ways, this had grown to be her favorite part of their sessions. Not that she didn’t enjoy listening to Jackie talk about music, which she did; mostly because she was practically tone deaf and found it magical that Jackie was so good at it, or trading ideas back and forth on the pieces they listened to, both of which were rewarding in their own ways. But there was something about sitting next to each other, silent save for the shared music, that just got to her.

They were standing outside the coffeeshop, Jackie struggling to undo the lock on her bike, when Gigi thought back to their earlier conversation. “I know it’s not the same because I’m not graduating yet, but you know I’m here if you ever need to talk to someone, right? Like, no pressure or anything, but I just— just wanted to put it out there, I guess.”

Jackie stopped mid-motion and looked up at her, half of her U-lock in hand. “Thanks, Gigi.” She grinned, all bright and pearly and warm. “I think sometimes I just get too in my own head, you know? Especially about things I can’t do anything about. And yes, I know how stupid it is to stress out over these things so much, I really do.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid, though,” Gigi mentioned, as they started walking towards her bus stop. It was really nice of Jackie to walk there with her, rather than just take off on her bike straight away. It maybe made sense now that they knew each other well enough, but her heart still kind of fluttered whenever she offered it. “I mean, maybe it’s not productive because you’re worrying about things you can’t control, sure, but it also means you care, right? And I don’t think that’s something stupid, even if you wish you could just… not care less, but care better, you know. Still care, but in a way that’s better for yourself. To yourself.”

She thought of her parents, and of the guilt she used to feel every time she overheard someone asking them if they really thought it was wise to let her go to college for fashion, how she overworked herself to the point of passing out alone in the studio her freshman year in a misguided attempt to redeem herself from having failed a class. Like she thought she could atone for her perceived academic failures by working her body into the ground. She thought of the conversations that had started to happen in her periphery, whispers of ‘What are you thinking of doing after next year?’, ‘Have you also applied for the internship at this gallery?’, ‘Have you considered doing a minor in business?’, and how she sometimes struggled with not letting these thoughts invade her brain late at night.

“I just think it’s hard sometimes, but it’s even harder if we don’t let ourselves accept it. Or talk about it. So I guess all I’m saying is that if you need someone to listen, you know where to find me,” she finished with a deep breath.

When she looked up, there was a quiet smile on Jackie’s face, and Gigi felt warm at the thought of maybe having been the one to put it there. ***

geege you know i suddenly understand why you do the shoulder thing like i use to never really get it but that was before

janjanjan the shoulder thing??

geege wait more important how did ur audition go did they love you when are you gonna hear back

janjanjan it went pretty okay i think they’re def looking more for someone that does modern

geege so that’s good! very good!!!

janjanjan and one of the choreographers sort of smiled and nodded at me at the end i think he was on the dance team my first semester but that was before he graduated ig anyway idk maybe it was just in my head

geege no but that all sounds really good!!! look at u go diva!

janjanjan gigi just finished twenty minutes ago she was wearing this stupid ass shirt a really loose tank bc it’s been hot af and one of the straps kept falling of her shoulder

janjanjan oooooooooh oh no that shoulder thing

geege i saw collarbone and so much shoulder and upper arm

janjanjan how tragic tell me, did she lift it back up

geege yeah but it kept falling back down

janjanjan that’s rly good though!!!

geege no it was torture did you know she has a mole on her shoulder? right at the top and all i kept thinking of was that i wanted to kiss it

janjanjan cute also i don’t know how to tell you this but that shit doesn’t happen by itself

geege well it’s not like it was her fault

janjanjan listen a shirt can be a too big sure but you still kind of have to make it happen it doesn’t magically keep falling off

geege hm

janjanjan believe me i would know *** No matter how much she tried to forget about it, Gigi’s last session with Jackie was a thing that was very much happening right now.

It was strange, thinking back to the beginning of the semester, how she almost didn’t sign up for the class. How she maybe would have never met Jackie if she hadn’t, or maybe would have just pined from afar without ever learning her name were it not for her meddling friends. She found herself spending the last half of their session wondering more about how to casually ask Jackie if they’d still hang out once finals are over. Or if their semester-long friendship was, well, just that.

In the end, she just blurted it out as they packed up their things, subtlety thrown out the window.

“I mean, you’re friends with Rock, so I’m sure I’ll at least see you around, yeah?”

Jackie only hummed noncommittally in reply. She was busy packing her things back into her khaki tote bag, checking each pocket like she was looking for something. It reminded Gigi of what she used to do in middle school, every time she hadn’t done the homework or just really, really, really didn’t want to be the one called on to explain her work in front of the whole class. She’d just lean down, and start searching through her bag very obviously, making a show of opening every zipper, her head almost disappearing inside it if she could manage.

“Do you, like, need help finding something in there?” She asked, her voice coming out more harsh than she’d intended, just as Jackie seemed to decide she’d found what she was looking for and decisively slung her bag back over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I— it was—” she stopped and started, letting out a resigned sigh and shaking her head at herself. It made Gigi want to cringe. “Yeah, I’m good now, and yeah, I’ll still see you around. At least for the summer, but after that too I hope! I mean, I’ll still be around and you’ll be around too, so, y’know…” she trailed off. Her cheeks were tinged pink, just barely. Her ears, too, or maybe it was just the white of her sweater making everything appear brighter in contrast. “Besides, you still haven’t shown me any of your work, and you promised you would.” She was right about that, Gigi knew. She usually wasn’t shy about showing her designs to other people, but somehow she’d found himself unsure of what to show Jackie first.

She settled her bag on one shoulder, and they started making their way out in companionable silence until Jackie spoke again. “Hey, actually, do you maybe want to grab coffee before heading back? I have a bit of time before my next class and I could use a pick-me-up.”

They ended up just stopping by Starbucks, because it was on their way and surprisingly empty for a Thursday afternoon on campus. Gigi got a mocha frappuccino (almond milk, extra whip) and managed to sneak in Jackie’s usual cold brew order before she had the chance to protest.

“Gigi…” She sighed fondly, kind of like a grandma would when her grandchildren were doing something they’d regret. She was shaking her head in resignation, which Gigi took as a sign that she’d decided to leave it at that.

“No, I’ve been stealing almost three hours of your time every week since almost the start of the semester and—”

“How can that even be true when Rock only introduced us in what, February?” Jackie laughed in protest, reaching out to grab her drink from the brunette’s hand.

“No, not the point!” Gigi replied, moving her arm back until the cup was just out of Jackie’s reach. “You’ve given up a lot of your free time for me, is what I’m saying. And you didn’t even really know me, I could’ve been a total freak.”

Jackie opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but Gigi continued before she had the chance.

“And you were so nice about it. Not ‘nice’ like when you have nothing actually all that good or specific to say. But nice in that you never made me feel like I was being stupid, you know? And you actually took the time to explain things to me so I’d understand them, not just the bare minimum so I could pass. You did all that when you didn’t really have to, so that meant a lot. Means a lot. I enjoyed spending that time with you, and not because it means I’m going to pass the class.”

Gigi forced herself to stop there, even though she knew for a fact that she could’ve easily kept going. She could feel her words coming out a little rambly, probably sounding more confusing than appreciative. At least she hoped that was what they sounded like, because the only other alternative was frightening. The idea that Jackie was in fact hearing everything Gigi was saying, her poor attempt at expressing the warmth she had felt growing inside her all semester long every time she was beside her, was infinitely more terrifying.

“Geege.” Jackie looked away, smiling after a moment, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Gigi could feel her cheeks getting hot, but when she looked up she could see that Jackie’s cheeks were tinged pink, too. It was almost funny, feeling what she felt and seeing the physical reflection of it not on herself, but on the person causing it. She wanted to reach out and let the tip of her fingers brush against Jackie’s cheeks, to see if they felt as warm as her own face did.

“You don’t have to say anything, I wasn’t trying to, like, I don’t know, get anything. I just wanted you to know what I meant, and that I really did mean it, when I was saying thank you.”

Gigi was laid bare, like her body was nothing but a lens, and behind it were all of her feelings jumbled together in a tangled mess, conclusion still very plain to the eye.

It was a surprise, when Jackie stepped forward and kissed her.

Gigi closed her eyes reflexively, but she could feel herself inhaling sharply, her body failing to catch up with what her brain was also struggling to process. When she eventually kissed back, it was only because she could feel Jackie’s body starting to move away, the fear finally pushing her into action. She brought one hand up, resting it on the side of the older woman’s neck, fingers gently brushing against her hair as she kissed back a little more confident. She could feel Jackie’s hand on her waist, warm and solid. Her grip tightened slightly as they separated, not strong enough to keep Gigi anywhere but a reassurance of where she was wanted.

Neither one of them really stepped back when the kiss ended, just stayed standing right in front of each other, breathing the same air. She heard Jackie swallow, loud in the silence of their shared space. She licked her lips, a reflex she didn’t even think about, and it was like the realization that, oh my god, they just kissed, hit her all over again when she found them wet. She suppressed a small shudder, although she wasn’t sure how successfully.

It was Jackie that finally broke the silence and stepped away from her, letting her hand fall away from Gigi’s side, brushing against her wrist and then gone before she had a chance to realize it.

“I,” Jackie breathed, “I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time, Gigi.” She laughed a little, maybe a bit self-conscious, and that was what brought the younger woman out of it.

“I spent hours talking to Jan about this gorgeous girl in my listening class,” she started, words leaving her mouth almost of their own volition. “How I didn’t even know her name but god, I really wish I did. Then I did know, even if I didn’t realize that you were, you know, you, when Rock said he knew someone who could tutor me. And then you were there and still the same person, but also so nice and understanding and just… good? Like, being around you just felt good.”

She paused, forcing herself to meet Jackie’s eyes again. “And I still mean everything I said earlier too, you know. Even if you weren’t interested in me, that’s not why I was saying it, but I still mean it just as much now.”

“Oh.” Jackie’s mouth was gaping so wide Gigi was worried it might actually fall to the floor. Maybe if Gigi were a different person, or if her brain wasn’t currently busy processing and reprocessing their kiss on an endless loop, she would have felt a little self-conscious at her outburst, but that just wasn’t who she was.

Especially not right now. Not when Jackie’s lips were right in front of her, still a little wet, still a little too red.

“That’s, that’s pretty good, then,” she finished quietly. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, only interrupted when Gigi let out a small snort.She couldn’t help but realise they were kind of ridiculous. Her face was taken over by an unashamedly stupidly large grin. Jackie properly stepped back then, far enough that Gigi could no longer feel the warmth of her body. She missed it immediately.

“I really need to get to my next class.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “So I can talk to the prof about her feedback on my draft first, but text me, yeah? I know it’s really shitty timing because we both have finals to take and papers to write, but I’ll make it work. Or I’ll call you, if that’s better? But I’m not running away, I promise.”

Gigi flashed her a bright smile and nodded in understanding. “I have your number too, y’know, so maybe I’ll just be the one to text you.”

“Okay, great, nice.” Jackie replied. She had her bag and coffee in hand, but made no clear motion to leave, kind of like she was worried if she did Gigi might disappear forever. It was so, incredibly, frustratingly cute and Gigi couldn’t help but wonder if Jackie would mind being kissed on the forehead.

“Jacks, it’s fine.” Gigi grinned. “I need to go too, anyway. Just maybe don’t drop your phone in any lake before you text me back this time, yeah?”

She turned away with a laugh of her own this time, and Gigi sipped through the plastic straw like it did anything to hide the smile on her face as she watched Jackie walk away.

“Wait!”

The Persian woman startled, turning back to her with an unsure smile. “What, did you forget something, Geege?”

“My first final is tomorrow,” Gigi said, looking up at Jackie with glinting eyes. “And it’s my first actual written exam this year, because I didn’t have any midterms, so how about another kiss for good luck, huh?”

Gigi’s cheeks ached from the force of her smile as she watched the uncertainty leave Jackie’s face, only to be replaced by a raised eyebrow and deep smile. Her shoulder’s rose slightly, like her instincts were telling her to hide her face in embarrassment at the cheesiness, but her eyes didn’t leave Gigi’s anyway. They didn’t leave Gigi’s, until they closed and their lips met again, and the younger woman thought it felt like more luck than she thought she had the right to ask for.

[florenc-ia]

These are my last reads, took me some time but oh well. Enjoy

Give Me Truths 110k

Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

chances under the purple sunrise 28k

“You’ve been taking my shoes?” Louis asked, scoffing. “I paid a lot for them!”

“How unfortunate for you.” Harry smiled bitterly. He peeked over Louis, eyeing the hook that still had the worm.

The red box was open right next to him. Harry saw that inside, it had a couple of transparent containers that were filled with worms, too. He eyed Louis skeptically before nodding. “Right. I’ll give you your, er…. little boats back if you let me have the tub of worms.”

A groan crawled out from Louis, his head falling back and his eyes landing up at the clear sky. “I need those.”

“They’re food for myself and others, not to be used as bait.”

*

Or the one where Harry is a merman, prince of the Atlantic Ocean, whose curiosity and healthy envy takes over him and he steals Louis' shoes every time he fishes.

Absolutely amazing it’s so beautiful and cute I loooooved it

Oh Glory 21k

Tomlinson looks Liam over, tilting his head. “Are you a swimmer as well?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, a little cautiously. Harry wonders if it’s Tomlinson’s fame or the unimpressed eyebrow that’s making Liam wary. “Distance, I’m doing the 1500m. Harry here’s a sprinter.”

“Ah,” says Tomlinson, turning his glinting eyes back to Harry. “So you’re not an endurance man.” A beat passes, and his grin grows, wide and filthy. "Shame."

Harry Styles is Team Great Britain's newest swimmer, and has spent his whole life training for this moment, a chance at the gold medal in the Rio 2016 Olympics. All his training, hard work, and dedication to no distractions is tested when he's assigned to the same Rio apartment as Louis Tomlinson, British gymnast and Harry's childhood crush.

Torn On The Platform 27k

AU where harry and louis are strangers but they always get the same train to work in the morning and one day harry falls asleep on louis’ shoulder. louis wants to be annoyed because harry just broke a least seven rules of tube conduct but he looks so soft and peaceful that he just lets him sleep and wakes him ever so carefully when it’s his stop. it happens again and again until it becomes a regular thing where louis will let harry snooze and then gently nudge him awake, hand him the cup of coffee he took from him so it wouldn’t slip and spill everywhere and send him off with a “have fun at work, love” and after the tenth time harry isn’t even embarrassed anymore.

In a sky full of stars, be my Northern lights 13k

It's one of those nights there's nothing on the telly that Louis absently scrolls through Tinder. After swiping left on a bunch of profiles he comes face to face with a picture that stops him in his tracks. The picture is..almost sweet. It’s a boy with brown curly hair, wearing a very low cut yellow blouse, paired with a black jacket. He’s got a smile on his face and his tongue sticking out, but it’s not in any way lewd or suggestive. He just looks like he’s having a good time, and something about the innocence of it has him swiping right rather than left.

He’s barely checked the other pictures on the boy's profile before Tinder confirms that he’s got a match. The shots are so different from the pictures Louis is used to on Tinder - half naked boys who are smoldering at the camera - that he can’t help but smile.

It quickly turns into a frown when he opens up the message he’s just received.

Harry: Hello!

Harry: Thank you for swiping right

Harry: I have a proposition for you

baby we could be enough (I’ll make this feel like home) 52k

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

That’s How I Know 19k

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Never Too Late 18k

Harry’s confused for a moment before it hits him: the little boy is signing. Harry squats down to get to the boy’s level again and mirrors the same action.

“Dad?” He inquires. Harry learned basic sign language after having met a fan who was deaf. He made it his mission to learn signing so that he’d be able to communicate with other fellow hearing impaired fans.

The little boy smiles brightly, his tears now long gone. He goes on to extend both hands, palms up as if he’s asking where? Followed by the previous sign which means Dad. Harry smiles to himself at the amazing little guy standing in front of him.

He stands up taking the boy’s hand, “Let’s go find your dad,” he tells him making the motion with his hand.

Just having come out of the closet and recovering from vocal surgery, famous recording artist Harry Styles needs to get away from LA to work on new music needing to prove to his label that his career isn't over. Little does he know that his life is about to change forever when he runs into an old friend at the city he's decided to escape to.

Truth Be Told (I Never Was Yours) 76k

Harry watches Louis as he scrunches up his nose and bites the end of a pen in concentration. He’s been working on seating arrangements for the past hour and getting more frustrated by the minute. Louis huffs out a breath and glances down at Harry with a soft smile on his lips before he returns to the task at hand. It’s easy, right then, for Harry to let himself believe that they’re planning a seating chart for their own wedding and bickering over who is going to sit where from a list of their own family members. He can let himself daydream about a white picket fence and a dog that they could have within the next year.

It’s like a cold slap in the face when Harry looks to the top of the page to see “Aiden and Louis Grimshaw” at the head table, and Harry has to mentally remind himself for the thousandth time that Louis is not his. Never was, really. He’s just the wedding planner that’s been in love with Louis since he was sixteen.

(or the one where Louis and Harry have a complicated past, Louis is getting married to someone that’s not Harry, and the universe has decided to have a laugh and make Harry the wedding planner.)

Even Angels Have Their Demons 53k

Louis is appointed the role of Guardian Angel, and his first mission is a boy named Zayn Malik. Unfortunately, it seems that a certain Demon has gotten to him first.

Or... an Angel/Demon AU where Angel Louis hates Demon Harry, but somewhere along the way that stops being so true.

Three French Hems 20k

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

In Dreams 23k

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

Say It Somehow 129k

Louis Tomlinson may be one of the most respected actors on the West End, but he's terrible at knowing how to act around Harry Styles.

The story of two people who find each other at just the right time, featuring first dates, sleepovers, heartbreak, lots of sex, baked goods, overpriced bedsheets, and musical theatre references galore.

A Darker Shade of Love 750k

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain.

Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life.

The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

Ok so this one has very sensitive content. It’s very well written but if you can understand this is all fiction then you’re good. Be careful reading it if you think you might get triggered

A Sea Without Water, A Compass Without Direction 84k

”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?”

”I—what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.

”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.

”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”

Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?”

”L-Lie?”

”Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up.

”Three lies total. I hate liars.”

Waiting for the tides to meet 59k

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

Bruises- Pt.8 (A Peter Pevensie Fanfic)

AN: everything disappeared suddenly today! Now everything is back up! Thank you to everyone following this crazy brain child of mine. :) gifs belong to @eternalroleplay​

Previous chapters: Pt1  Pt2  Pt3  Pt4  Pt5  Pt6  Pt7

Chapter note: This was a fun one to write! 

A nobleman from some island comes to visit in the following days, and I don’t see Peter for a week and a half. Not that I’m counting. 

Not that I’m necessarily saddened by it either. My brain is still shaken to the bone by a number of things, and the time to think is much needed.

With the castle’s visitors to talk about, the talk around me dies down, and I’m able to return to the maid’s quarters, despite Mrs. Dolie’s insistence that I hadn’t overstayed my welcome. 

The maids that I’m not particularly close to give me side glances laced with poison, and the ones I did have an acquaintance with give me a half forced smile at any eye contact. Even if they didn’t mind my current... affiliation… with the High King, they likely don’t want the affliction sure to come their way with any association with me. 

It’s my own fault, really. I’ve been a quiet, aloof lass long before they had a reason to have distaste for me. 

Just as well: I have a book to read. I sit in the hallway outside the quarters, under a torch so I can see. Then I devour the pages until my eyelids begin to droop before reluctantly forcing myself to my bunk. 

Midweek, I get to take another trip into town, this time accompanied by Adonis. I smile at the thought of Peter taking my comfort level with the centaur into account when assigning the guard. 

The buoyant conversation to and from the market is nearly as enjoyable as the experience itself. Although, having a royal guard at your side did draw its attentions. But the drawbacks aren’t nearly as bad as the niceness of having to not carry all the produce alone. 

It’s a pleasant rhythm: wake up, clean, perhaps talk to Mrs. Dolie or Adonis, read, sleep. Even my dreams fall into a lovely, blank pattern. 

Until they don’t. I blame the book for it really, knights and their damn passionate love and carnal tales.

It’s innocent enough to start. I’m back on the turret, Peter with me, but instead of just brushing my cheek with his hand, his mouth catches mine. 

I bolt upright in my bed, and I can’t even muster an apology in reply to the annoyed whine from the bunk beside mine. I row my mind back and forth through the dream, and can only settle myself back down when I know it lacked that abnormal quality that meant I shared it. 

My cleaning in the morning is vigorous and over-focused, but, thankfully, no one says anything, not even Mrs. Dolie, despite her aware gaze.

That night, I forego the book, hoping it helps. 

Instead, I have the same dream, except this time, my hands are in his hair, and his hands are on my back, tracing and burning. The sensation of his tongue meeting my lip finally shoots me toward consciousness. 

I’m unable to fall back asleep, even after assuring myself this one too was my dream alone. 

I tripped three times the next day, and got caught staring off into space five times. 

I do read my book the following night, with no intention of going to sleep. But I must at some point fade off, because the dream visits even in face of my efforts.

I’m not in the tower this time, but I’m in what I recognize as the High King’s chambers. I don’t clean it, but I have been in to fill a vase once or take the curtains to wash, I’m not sure which, but it’s enough to identify where I am. I’m wearing my sleep shift, white and borderline transparent, and I haven’t even time to fluster at my own indecency before looking up to find Peter only in loose sleep breeches. 

I look everywhere but his exposed chest, finally descending my line of sight to the design of the duvet behind him. I can feel his eyes on me, and despite the simmer it holds, it doesn’t feel profane. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I search his face for meaning, but I can’t label any of the micro-expressions dancing across his features. 

Handsome features, my useless mind offers. 

Then, before my mind can offer anything else, I’m stepping towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kissing him without restraint. He hums something incomprehensible against my mouth and then he’s lifting me by the back of my legs, which I wrap around his waist the first moment I can. I’m dazed and giddy and something much much worse, but whatever the later is, it has momentum, and I’m not even trying to stop it as I move my hips down against his waist.

I feel before I see his eyes snap open, and I blink as that awful sensation of becoming aware during a dream rushes over me.

What in the…

The sinking in my stomach advances as I hear him ask, tentatively, “____ are you actually here?”

I just stare as he lowers me down, places a finger under my chin, tilting my eyes up as he searches them for something. 

And it hits me. 

Aslan help me…I am sharing this dream. 

********

I’ve never been so thankful for kitchen duty. Mrs. Dolie’s conversation is just about the sole thing that can get my mind off a night like that. 

If she can tell I’m distracted, she keeps it to herself. 

I’m chopping celery while she adds a plethora of spices to a large pot without measuring them, not even looking at her own hands as she tells me how one of the other maids burnt a pie yesterday.

She’s smiling, even though she is obviously still quite grieved over her charred pie. I feel the beginnings of my own smile when the screech of iron startles the knife down, and I slice one of my knuckles. 

The clammerings beside me tell Mrs. Dolie isn’t much better off. I’m sucking my knuckle between my lips before the second it takes me to turn around. 

Mrs. Dolie and I exchange confused glances as we recognize at the same moment the sound came from the panty. 

I’m reaching back behind me with my unhurt hand for the knife when the pantry door is pushed open and a cloud of white is unleashed. 

I don’t even have to wait for the white dust to settle before I recognize the stature of the man before us. 

“Peter?” I ask toward the cloud, knife still in hand. 

There’s coughing, and when I can finally see him, he’s dusting a hand through his hair, knocking another smaller cloud into being. His clothes are coated in white powder too.

“I think,” he covers his mouth for another cough, “that perhaps the passage entrance to the pantry hasn’t been in use for some time.”

Mrs. Dolie has dropped into a curtsey, and I debate on if I’m to curtsey as well, and I keep going back and forth on it, so I just end up in an awkward ankle cross with my finger back in my mouth. 

Oh, gods, I am not ready to see him, not after last night. And he’s here, and so very real and it’s far too much. 

“Your Majesty,” Mrs. Dolie half rises from her curtsey, “It hasn’t been used in years indeed, to which point I’m afraid we’ve placed shelving around it. It’s where we keep the flour nowadays.” 

She’s honoring, but her tone of voice is the same as ever, even in the presence of one of our sovereigns, and I can’t help but respect her more for it.

Peter’s chuckle forces my attention back to him, “Yes, I’ve certainly found the flour.”

He looks at me for a second past a comfortable glance, then back to Mrs. Dolie, “I apologize for the mess, if you’ll point me in the direction of your broom…”

She makes a noise somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “If it pleases your majesty, the maids are quite capable…”

“It’s my mess really,” he interrupts, moving towards us. 

I finally set my knife down. He notices the movement, and the side of his lip quirks up, then it’s gone.

“Really, your majesty, while your offer is appreciated, I actually have the perfect maid for the job. I have a charred pie that demands revenge.”

He looks baffled, and turns to me for reasoning. I just shake my head, smiling.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?” I ask, wiping my hands on my apron.

“I was…” he starts, then concern twists his face as his eyes follow my hands. I look down to see my apron splotched with red. “Are you bleeding, ____?”

“Heavens! Yes she is!” Mrs. Dolie exclaims, grabbing a dish towel from the nearest table, wrapping my entire hand. 

I laugh and hiss at the pain in the same moment, creating a strange, twisted noise. “It’s just the finger, you know, not my whole hand.”

“I’m relieved your tongue is unaffected,” she bites back, looking up at me only briefly before starting to look for something.

“Just about everything is unaffected,” I snort. “It’s just a …”

I’m silenced by the hand on my elbow. I tense at first, but then relax at the cautious eyes of the hand’s owner. 

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. I nod, even as my useless mind silently adds, “more than.” 

“Can I see it?” I must be still gathering my wits from my stupid, stupid mental running column because he adds, “your hand?”

I raise it, and he takes it, unwrapping the clumsily tied dish cloth, sending another bit of flour into a cloud as his sleeve contacts my wrist. 

He addresses Mrs. Dolie over my shoulder after a glance at it, “You were correct in the need for it being covered, but not before it’s washed. May I use your wash bowl?”

“Of course, your majesty.” She indicates over to the corner. She’s addressing him, but she’s looking at me. To my face, then to where Peter carefully grasps my hand and leads me over to the wash bowl, then back at my face pointedly, looking herself as smug as anyone ever has. 

I roll my eyes. 

“You know, I really am fi..”

I swallow a yelp as Peter pours a pitcher of water over my knuckle. 

“I know you are, but it still needs cleaning, and it honestly might need a stitch or two.”

“You have a habit of being overprotective, sire.”

He smiles as he runs his hand over mine, squeezing slightly. I sharply inhale at the pain, then almost make a similar sound at his hand’s comforting stroke. His shoulder bumps mine.

“And you have a habit of being hurt, milady.” I turn my face to him, and he’s close, so close at my side. I can feel his exhale on my neck, and he’s positively magnetic, and I’m so pathetically caught in his pull… 

Mrs. Dolie clears her throat, “I’d clear out, but, alas, the soup is still on the fire.”

Peter laughs, although somewhat tight, still authentic, as he turns to address her.  “My apologies, I need to get her to the healer anyway.”

“The healer! Honestly, Peter!” I exclaim in exasperation. 

He pivots back to me. “Yes, the healer. Stitches and soup aren’t best made in the same room.” 

“I have to agree with his majesty on this one, deary,” Mrs. Dolie pipes up.

“But…” I start to protest, but Mrs. Dolie starts literally pushing me toward the door to the passageway in the pantry. 

Peter gives his thanks and farewell, and then we’re off into the tunnel. It’s dark, except for some torches up the way. 

The tunnels aren’t foreign to us maids. They’re not only for protection in case of an attack, they also make for fantastic shortcuts and dubious visibility at the height of hosting guests. 

Since this entrance has remained unused, there’s no torchlight given nearby. Even still, it’s not pitch black at least, and the ground is flat in these parts. 

So my grip on his forearm is superfluous. Ridiculous. 

I don’t let go. 

His voice pierces the dark as we walk. “I tried my hand at subtlety, using the passage and whatnot. Flour it seems, had plotted to thwart me.”

“Ah, yes. If only it weren’t for the nefarious flour, then subtlety would be yours to obtain,” I say, trying to chase the playfulness of my voice with fabricated solemnity, failing mostly. “Although I might suggest that if subtlety is truly close to being possessed, then the use of passage tunnels needn’t be necessary.”

He endeavors to clear his throat of a laugh, which escapes anyway in the end. “Redhanded, milady.” 

“I appreciate the attempt nonetheless. Which brings me to… why were you trying to find me?”

We’ve gotten to where the torches are lit, and I can see his face much better now. I really could let go of his arm. Really should. 

“Well, I know I’ve been occupied all week, and I mentioned perhaps trying sparring last...” he trails off, and I glance up at him, only catching glimpses of his demeanor as we kept passing torches. He seems to be considering something. Then decided upon it. 

“We’ve been nothing except forthright toward each other, and I have no intent of stopping now. Or ever. I honestly just wanted to see you. How you were doing. And perhaps a question, which I can leave ‘till later.”

I’m momentarily lost over what to say, my heartbeat drowning out any coherent thought from forming. First, that he wants to see me, and second, what that question will likely be about. Hopefully not. I keep hoping I’m wrong about that dream not being mine alone. 

Forthright. I can do that, at least. “I’m glad you did.” I hope he can see the sincerity in my eyes in spite of the dim light. “And I’m actually a little relieved you haven’t brought up the whole sparring thing. I…” I lick my bottom lip and the rest of my thought down as I consider for a moment, what level of vulnerability I want to reveal. 

I catch another frame of his face, but it’s just enough. There’s a genuineness his presence radiates, and it inspires the same from me. 

“I’m not ready yet, I think. Touching people and people touching me,” I inhale, conjuring courage to finish. “It’s formidable at best in most cases. But I’m learning. I just need smaller steps than that, I think.”

“I should say that’s more than understandable. Plus, I only mentioned it in hopes to increase your comfort, not fret you more than you already have been.” 

“Thank you,” I say, quietly.

He nods, and we walk in silence for a few moments. We reach a door, and he opens it, indicating for me to go ahead. 

I’ve barely a second to take in the room, stocked floor to ceiling on more than one wall with numerous jars full of colorful substances. There’s a table in the middle, and many places of storage everywhere. A fireplace in the corner, a daybed near the window. 

He speaks again. “Please, if I ever do anything that makes you nervous, don’t hesitate to say.”

“Thank you,” I say again. I look away, over at some sort of plant hanging from the ceiling. As if my nerves will ever be in order around him.  “You’ve been beyond respectful, and I’m grateful.”

His mouth purses. “I don’t feel I need gratitude for what equates to plain decency.”

“My gratitude still stands, even so.”

“Just please promise me, ___, that you’ll tell me?” He’s adamant in a way that I know needs assurance. 

“I will. Touch with you is… different.” The moment I realize what just came out of my mouth, I look down at my feet again, opening my mouth to find something, anything, to say that will mitigate what I just stupidly said aloud. 

When I gather the grit to look him in the eye again, he looks struck. Not as much in that he’s hurt as much surprised at the impact. 

His throat bobs. “I….I want to say I’m honored, but it’s not even close to the right word.” 

I can’t think of anything else to say, meer words feeling empty in comparison to the momentousness of what I’d actually just admitted. 

I trust you. 

And he heard it. 

A bird’s chirp from outside the window calls me back to why I’m actually here. 

“So, when is the healer joining us?”

His appearance turns sheepish. “Well, she should be making her rounds in one of the villages today. I’m set to meet with her tomorrow, as usual, but I’m confident I’ve done stitches enough to do it without her instruction.”

He turns and starts opening a cabinet, gathering supplies, then plucks some type of dried plant off the string from which it hangs.

I try to put the situation together in my mind. “She teaches you?” 

He half turns back to me, hands still busy with some type of thread. “Yes, because I asked her to. Medicine has always held an interest for me.”

Huh. I hadn’t foreseen that coming. 

He seems to have gathered everything he needs, because he approaches me again. “I would wait for her, if I knew she would be back before dark, and this truly requires attention now,” he waves in the direction of my hand. 

“It’s alright. Between you and me, I prefer it to be you anyway.” I smile, hoping it reassures him. I don’t doubt his capacity the way he seems to think I might. I wouldn’t have done anything to the cut, so anything is an improvement on nothing. 

He smiles back briefly before crushing the dried plant with a shaped stone. He combines it with some type of liquid until it forms a paste. 

When he holds out his hand, obviously meaning for me to give him mine, I do without thought. But when the fingers on his other hand caress around my wrist before applying the paste, it brings to my attention just how intimate the setup is. And how much more he’s going to need to touch me before this is over. 

My thoughts flicker back to the moment at the sink, just mere minutes ago. How he leaned in, how I did too…

And I’m a selfish girl in some respects, not content just to be touched, apparently, because even as the one hand is wounded, the other itches to reach up and touch his hair, remembering the soft texture of it from the staff courtyard. 

He’s almost done smearing the paste when my hand twitches.

“Did it sting? This salve shouldn’t.” 

“No, it’s… not that.”  

“What is it, then?” He hasn’t been entirely looking at me, half submerged in his task, but now he does, broad shoulders squared to me, both hands holding my injured one. 

I blush, and an expression that’s half boyish cockiness and half curiosity is sent my way in return. 

I sigh, impatient with myself. “Just... “ I just go for it, reaching my other hand up, fingers close to the shorter hair above his ear. “May I?” I ask, making sure this frivolous indulgence of mine is fine by him. 

He nods. “Whatever you want.” 

I comb my hand through his hair, and he hums, deep in his throat as he leans into my hand. “I’m at your mercy, milady. Do as you please.” 

It’s a heady, heady thing. The power he gives me. 

What an interesting commodity he makes of power. What I’ve known of power is the abuse thereof. It becomes a completely different substance when it lays itself down willingly. 

His eyes close when I reach the nape of his neck, dragging my fingernails. A thought plants in my mind, and my brazzenness hasn’t wavered, so I press my lips to his jaw, even as my hand shakes at his neck. I feel the muscle under my lip clench before he pulls back a little. 

I’m worried I’ve misread things before he explains with a scratchy voice, “If I’m going to have enough concentration to stitch your hand, I can’t have you continuing that now.”

He pets at my cheek, swiping his thumb across my bottom lip. “And maybe then you’ll grant me permission to reciprocate?”

I can’t tell if the swoop in my stomach is fear or anticipation. Or both. “Please,” I answer still, meaning it with every bone in my body.

“Then let me finish my task, milady.” His smile is teasing, even as his hands busy themselves again after we’re both seated at the table.

The paste he made must have some type of numbing quality, as the poking of the needle isn’t nearly as bad as I brace myself for it to be. Still, the stitch in the middle of the cut bites, and I gasp a little. He looks up to me briefly, muttering an apology, stroking my hand again in a soothing motion. “Nearly finished.”

He’s completely in a zone, and I distract myself with watching his fingers as they work. 

Finally, he bandages the area. He seems a little lost in thought, still. 

When he addresses me, he looks a little… guilty?

“____, I need to ask you something before anything else.”

“Yes?” 

“I…” he looks down, dropping his head and running a hand over his face. “Did we share a dream last night?” When he looks back up at me, his cheeks are a little red. 

Oh. I had almost forgotten about that. I’m sure my cheeks matched his too, now. How would he feel, knowing I dreamed of him that way?

I answer slowly. “I believe so.”

“I believe I owe you an apology, then. Forgive me, I…”

“Pardon?” I cut him short.

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry, it was inappropriate, and you shouldn’t be subjected to my mind running and setting you in situations like that. Especially in light of everything you’ve been though, and I can’t in good conscience...” 

“But it was my dream? You shouldn’t be sorry.” 

It takes him a second to realize my words. “Really?”

“At least I thought it was. It makes sense, all the other dreams this week were similar.” I realize what I just admitted, and I laugh even as my whole face burns.

He just stares for a second, looking like he’s still trying to comprehend what I just said. 

“Perhaps it’s me who should be apologizing to you for my mind’s lack of chastity, then, sire.” I continue. 

Some disbelieving sound leaves him before he protests. “But I’ve had similar dreams all week as well.” 

I should, perhaps, be scandalized. I should, maybe, be offended, even. I am, in fact, completely flattered instead. 

“Huh,” is all I can say, stupidly. 

We meet each other’s eyes at the same moment, then laugh a little at ourselves and the situation as a whole.

Peter speaks again. “I just hope that anything you did today wasn’t a reflection of what you think I wanted because of that dream.” 

Aslan, how was this man even real? 

“Everything I did today was because I wanted to.” My voice isn’t loud, but what I say seems to ring in the small space between us, creating a potential that demanded some type of action.

“Do I still have your permission then?”  His leg bounces a little, like he’s channeling energy there in order to stay still. 

I nod, and it’s all it takes. He scoots off his chair and offers a hand to pull me up. 

The next moment, the warmth of his lips are against my temple. I lace our fingers where our hands are still clasped, my breaths coming uneven. 

How is this even real?

I can feel him lick his lips before kissing down the side of my neck. When his tongue darts out a little, my hand clutches onto his arm haphazardly, ending in an awkward grab of his elbow. 

His hand finds my waist, and he pulls back enough to see my gauge my reaction. “Is this still okay?” 

His hair is still messy from when I touched it, and it makes me want to grab it again. 

“Like I said, touch with you is different, Peter.” I close the gap between us, pressing our lips together. The reaction is gentle to begin: The hand on my waist clutches a little tighter, and I indulge the itch to play with his hair again. 

Then he deepens the kiss, tilting his head a little and breaking our clasped hands to cup my face. He darts his tongue out once, and I feel the impact all the way down my spine.  I hear myself make some noise I’ll care to be embarrassed about later, but when a similar noise echoes from his throat, I know I’m not alone. 

Kissing Peter feels like the last moment of a fall and the following moment of catching yourself. There’s the exhilaration and fear of the uncontrollable sensation of tumbling toward something, and then there’s the swoop in your stomach as it all catches up, landing after it all on something solid and unshakable. 

I pull back, breathless and unsure where to go next. He follows, slowing his breath as well, hands not leaving their place. 

Then, without even thinking, he rests his forehead on mine. 

And it happens. 

Tag list: 

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[hazel-writes]

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[cosmic-affinities]

Loathing....Right?

Read on AO3 Here

It was stiff and uncomfortable, no one knew how to act, everything looked the same but felt completely wrong. 1998 was full of turmoil, war, and a couple months of recovery. No one thought going back to Hogwarts would feel this way, everyone desperately wanted to move on and pretend like May 2nd was behind them, they knew in their hearts it would never be truly behind them.

“I would like to thank everyone here for returning with me. I know it is difficult, especially for those of us who have grown up here and have discovered who we want to be in these very halls but, everyone in this Great Hall should feel infused with courage, loyalty, wisdom, and ambition. It is not going to be easy but it is right, and everyone here has made the decision to forgo ease for the ability to say they made the right choice. Now let me allow the feast to begin!”

There were gasps, mostly first years, when Headmistress McGonagall waved her hands and made massive amounts of food appear.

“One last thing, I would like our returning 8th years, as they have been dubbed, to stay after the feast is finished, I have some things to discuss.”

Heads from all four tables looked up at McGonagall, many hopeful and even more scared, it was going to be a tough year.

“Thank you all for listening to me and staying after the feast, I just have some housekeeping type things to go over and thought the other students wouldn’t enjoy hearing about them”

There were some murmurs that quickly stopped as she began to speak again.

“First, I am going to make a designated table for you all in the great hall and I expect everyone to use it. There is a special set of classes for all 8th years, but those of you taking courses other than general education will join the seventh years. Sadly you will not be able to join Quidditch with the rest of the school, but you are more than welcome to book the pitch and do as you please.”

At this, some people groaned quietly, but everyone understood that she wanted to give the rest of the school their chance to have a normal time at Hogwarts, the 8th years were the ones imposing not the other way around.

“There are some changes with the curfew, you will all have to be back on the grounds by midnight, or else you will be locked out, but I do not feel the need to tell adults when they need to be in bed. Just remember you will be expected to attend all classes regardless of how late you stay out. I have already set up a separate common room and dorms for you all. Each dorm has its own bathroom and there will be two in a room, each person from a different house, and I will not be accepting any roommate change requests, I have posted your dorm assignments in your common room and I expect you to act like civilized adults to each other.”

After McGonagall made a special point of not allowing roommates to switch, the 8th years slowly became scared, but they followed their headmistress to their new common room anyway. As they walked quiet conversations began.

“Alright, you will have the East Wing of the castle, the common room is through this door, it will open to your magical signatures, and just the same as all the houses, boy’s dormitories are to the left while the girl’s dormitories are to the right. The stairs will not turn into a slide if you try to approach the girls' dorms, and I trust I will not have to change that. One last reminder, your roommates are unchangeable, so don't start something you do not want to finish.”

With her last words McGonagall whisked off quickly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the east wing and after a beat of hesitation, the 8th years turned and allowed the door to read their magical signatures.

“Did McGonagall say that we were rooming with other houses? I hope I can room with a quiet Ravenclaw, anything would be better than a Slytherin.”

“Ron! Stop that now, everything is finally over and I don't want to be a part of any badmouthing, you will be happy with whomever you got paired with.”

“Oh, c’mon ‘Mione! You know I’m right, but if it makes you feel better then I won’t say anything else bad.”

“Fine, thank you. Now, why don’t we go and actually look at who we are paired with.”

Harry watched his friends talk, not knowing what to contribute, he agreed with Hermione, they didn’t need any more anger or hate in their minds, there had already been too much for their lifetimes. He decided to hang back and wait for the crowd around the room assignments paper to dissipate, he was getting tired of crowds.

“Draco why have you been so quiet? You've barely said three words since we got off of the train.”

“Don’t worry about me Pans, I’m just tired. I need to find my room so I can sleep. Hopefully, my roommate won’t be anyone too bad, I can’t easily protect myself at night.”

“Alright if you are sure, and plus you’ll probably get roomed with some random Hufflepuff or something.”

“Well I’m going to go take a quick look so I can find a bed to faceplant on, coming back to Hogwarts has been exhausting.”

By the time the crowd dissipated there were only two small groups left in the common room, they both walked towards the roommate list at the same time.

“Um, guys I think we found our roommates.”

Five faces turned to Hermione, none of them looked too happy.

“Oh no, you can’t be serious ‘Mione! Please tell me you are joking, we all got paired with Slytherins?!” Ron’s face paled, he hoped his friend was just messing around.

“What! Let me see that paper, Granger!” Zabini quickly snatched the paper and his eyes widened.

“Draco, you are not going to like this.”

“Spit it out Blaise, am I with Potter or Weasley, I am not in the mood to play the world’s worst guessing game.”

“Potter. I am with Weasley, and Pansy is obviously with Granger.”

“Alright now was that so hard?” Draco turned to face the other three, “Potter I am going up to our room.”

“Well, I was not expecting that.”

“Well, I guess that means I should go up too, Ron ‘Mione I'll catch up with you guys later.”

There were four shocked faces watching the retreating figure.

“Wow, I was not expecting either of them to stay calm, this will be an interesting year.”

Hermione turned to face Pansy, her new roommate.

“I wasn’t either, I just hope no one gets hexed while no one else is watching. Anyway, I think I should properly introduce myself. Hi, I’m Hermione Granger, your new roommate.”

“O-oh um, Pansy Parkinson.”

She stretched out her hand and Hermione shook it carefully as the two boys stared, not knowing what to do.

“I just want to say that I hope we can make things work this year, I don’t want to be uncomfortable in my own room.”

“Well Granger, I agree with you, something I never thought would happen, so I think that this just might work.”

The two girls walked away together, towards their room, leaving Ron and Blaise behind them, dumbfounded.

“This is going to be a weird year.” Blaise turned.

“You can say that again.”

Harry approached the door and opened it slowly, his trunk was already at the foot of the bed closest to the door, he saw Malfoy unpacking.

“Look, Potter, neither of us enjoy this but can we at least agree to not sling hexes? I’m exhausted and I don't even want to think about any protection spells.”

“Yeah, fine whatever Malfoy. I'm going to use the bathroom.”

Harry closed the door behind him and splashed water on his face, he knew the git hated him but he was not expecting-  whatever you could call what just happened. He was itching to talk to Padfoot, he spent the summer basically attached to him and Remus but he was already missing them, he wanted to tell them about his roommate and try to figure out the weird feeling in his stomach. Although it was probably just general dislike for the blonde through the door. Harry knew it was late though, Padfoot and Moony were probably already in their pajamas curled on the couch watching Defying Gravity (1997) for the umpteenth time, all he said when Harry asked why was ‘It's funny and gay, like me why wouldn't I watch it over and over?’ in a way only Sirius could, all while Remus sighed and shook his head trying to fight the fond smile that crossed his features. Harry allowed himself to get caught up in the memory until a stiff knock brought him back down.

“Come on Potter I haven’t got all night!”

Harry swiftly opened the door and walked past Draco without looking at him; he didn’t have the energy to think of a witty comeback.

“I’m going to the common room, I'll try not to wake you up when I come back.”

With his words, Harry grabbed some parchment and a quill and walked out of the room.

The common room was blissfully empty, Harry wanted to write a letter to Sirius and Remus instead of firecalling them, at least this way he wouldn't feel bad for interrupting them.

He started the letter three different times, it had only been one day, he didn’t know what to write about. He finally settled for something short and to the point,

Dear Padfoot and Moony,

We were right, being back at Hogwarts is a little weird, McG has us all in an ‘8th’ year dorm setup and we are rooming with people from different houses.

I decided not to firecall, I figured you guys were curled up on the couch watching something gay (without me, which I'm only a little annoyed about) and I didn’t want to interrupt your evening even if I wish I could be there. I’ll firecall you guys later this week once I get a response so we can talk a bit more.

(annoyingly) missing you already, Prongslet.

Harry finished his letter and took it to the owlery, there was one owl not up in the rafters or out hunting so Harry stuck the letter to the tawny owl and sent it on its way.

He made his way back to the common room and couldn’t help but be amazed when the door swung open with no prompt, magic was awesome. He crept back to his dorm, careful not to wake anyone and when he opened the door to his room he was met with the sight of curtains drawn on a four-poster bed and a dim light coming from a small lamp by his bed. Seeing the bed waiting for him made him yawn, he didn’t even realize how tired he was. After a quick change, he fell into his bed and quickly was sleeping.

Draco tensed as he heard the door open, no matter how tired he was, fear crept in and didn't leave until he heard light snoring. Had Potter really fallen asleep that quickly? He was in a room with someone he had hated for seven years and just fell asleep as if he was with an old friend, Merlin Draco even resented him for his ability to sleep. As time passed Draco’s mind finally slowed and allowed sleep to take over.

@daddiesdrarryy @gloster @thatonepurplepancake @devilrising

And a gigantic thank you to @itsskylover23 for reading this for me before i posted it!

[dancingkirby]

Day of Black Sun Ensemble: Azula I

Agh, IDK WTF I’m even going to title this thing!  Anyway, the basic idea is that this is, of course, about the events of the Day of Black Sun through the eyes of Azula and three OCs; the OCs are all paramours/victims of Ozai.

I really want to get all or at least most of it done before starting to post on ff/AO3, but there’s twelve chapters plus an epilogue and I want to make sure it’s okay!

Warnings for the entire fic: Some really heavy stuff here.  All OCs (and Azula, of course) are underage when Ozai first takes advantage of them, and there will be repeated references to rape and dubcon, although nothing very graphic.  

Warnings for this chapter: References to blood/menstruation.

PAST

Azula was eleven, and she was about to die of embarrassment.

It had seemed like just another routine sunrise firebending practice on the balcony.  But halfway through, she began to feel awful; her head and stomach and back were all killing her.  She managed to finish the whole routine by sheer force of will. Then, when she walked back into her room and shucked off her sweaty training gear, she saw the blood.

She didn’t freak out. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what this meant. It was just a bit earlier than she had expected.  Last school year, all of the fifth graders at the Royal Fire Academy For Girls had gone to the assembly hall to see a rather condescending presentation about puberty (no puppet show this time, thankfully).  “The average age of menarche is twelve and a half years,” they had said.  But she was eleven years and one month, and here it was anyway.  She’d reached every other milestone early, so she supposed it made sense.

Unfortunately, Shiza chose that moment to enter the room with Azula’s morning protein smoothie; her high-waisted gown failing to hide the fact that she was growing stout around the middle again.  She made a little squeak of surprise, hastily set down the smoothie in its habitual place on Azula’s night table, and scurried over asking a million questions. Are you okay?  Are you scared?  Do you know what’s going on?  Are you in any pain?  Do you need any help? Do you want me to get Dr. Huang?

“Go away.  And don’t tell anyone,” Azula growled.  Her lady-in-waiting’s breathy, high-pitched voice was only making her headache worse.  She was not in the least bit scared, and was perfectly capable of dealing with this herself.  Her school had handed out samples of the necessary equipment after the presentation last year.

Shiza obediently bowed and backed out of the room as quickly as etiquette allowed.

She seemed genuinely worried about you, a voice in Azula’s head whispered. She immediately wrestled that thought into submission.

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

Shiza may not have told anyone, but the laundresses were nosy gossips as always, so despite Azula’s efforts, the whole Caldera seemed to know by the next day.  Servants tiptoed around her like she was on her deathbed, and the severity of her symptoms and heavy flow had made it so she’d had to stay home from school for two days.  

Finally, a week later, it was all over.  Azula still felt somewhat weak from the blood loss, although she could never let anyone know that.  Father sent for her, as she knew he would.

“It happened earlier than I anticipated…but now you are a woman grown,” he told her.  “Now you can serve me in every way.”

Azula nodded and smiled, trying to will her heart to stop racing.

“Show me.  I’m ready,” she said.

The pain was excruciating, although she never let her smile leave her face, and then she hemorrhaged and had had to stay in bed again while she received iron infusions.  But it was worth it.

PRESENT

Today, it was the day of the eclipse, and she would be serving Father in a different way.

She stood still, arms spread out at her sides, as Shiza’s gentle but experienced hands buttoned buttons, fastened hooks and snaps, and cinched straps.  Her armor fell into place with a click, and the outfit was completed with the crucial sash to accentuate her trim waistline.  

Shiza brushed Azula’s hair, careful to not let it snag on the armor, and pulled it into a perfect topknot.   She applied exactly two drops of scent to each side of Azula’s neck.  Finally, after giving the cosmetic pots a quick stir to ensure that they weren’t separated or dried, she started on the makeup: foundation, powder to take away the shine, lipstick red enough to make one’s eyes hurt, and just a touch of blush so she didn’t look too pale.   For the finishing touch, she applied Azula’s eyeliner using the dull edge of a knife to make sure it was perfectly straight.  Azula had requested that she do it this way; other people may have quailed at a sharp object being so near her eyes, but not her.  

Her work done, Shiza backed away and bowed, awaiting Azula’s next command.  Long ago, Azula had come to accept that, despite how annoying she found Shiza, the diminutive young woman was her most competent lady-in-waiting. During important occasions such as this one, she was the only one whom Azula could rely upon completely to make her appearance flawless.

Normally, at this time of day her rooms were bustling with servants bringing in breakfast and preparing Azula’s morning bath and laying out articles of clothing and toiletries to make Shiza’s job easier.  Today, though, it was just the two of them, and things were eerily quiet.  

“Thank you,” Azula said, finally breaking the silence.  “You are dismissed.”

Shiza murmured her acknowledgement and bowed again.  She seemed nervous today.  Now that Azula was thinking about it, her lady-in-waiting had been acting oddly for some months now.  Did she think that Azula didn’t know about her repeated trips to the harbor for excursions on that boat of hers?

She would have to look into that…tomorrow.  Shiza would have to have a death wish to try anything today.

“You needn’t worry. We have had months to think this through, and are prepared for every eventuality,” Azula assured her.  

“Of course,” Shiza said.  As Azula closed her eyes, running through the plan a final time, her lady-in-waiting carefully closed the special case designed specifically for the makeup knife and left.  

In Azula’s distracted state, she never noticed that, although the knife case was closed, the knife itself was absent.

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Soon, her Dai Li escort arrived to take her to the bunker.  On their way there, they encountered the bastards, who would have their own room underground.  

Anshi, of course, was heading up the line.  As soon as she saw Azula, she blew on the whistle that was always around her neck and ordered everyone to bow.  

Azula took the time to look them over.  Behind Anshi, there were Ichiro and Zhilan; the latter was clutching her own baby to her chest.  After them, neatly paired up, were Izumi and Ruanyu, Kenzo and Azen, Uzeko and Nozomi, and Lanying and Eri.  

But wait…there were two missing.  Upon Azula’s inquiry, Anshi explained, “Shiza took Zoren and Teza from the dormitory last night, Princess.  She said that the Fire Lord had special plans for them.”

Hm.  Shiza hadn’t mentioned this to her.  That seemed suspicious too, although it was not unheard of for Father to change plans at the last minute.  With another blow of Anshi’s whistle and a command for them to show Azula their best marching, the group set off.

Down and down and down they went, Azula leading the way, until they were in a special room that was below even the basement.  From there, a creaky elevator would take them down one or two at a time.  Azula noted that Father and Zuko were apparently already underground.

“What if the volcano blows up while we’re inside it?” the six-year-old Azen blurted out.  Izumi burst into tears.  The girl, despite being nearly fourteen, was scared of her own shadow and mostly nonverbal.  Azula would have considered her simple-minded if she hadn’t read some of her elegant and eloquent poetry.  Despite being two and a half years Izumi’s junior, Ruanyu was obliged to take on the role of an older sibling as she patted Izumi’s hand.

Anshi replied, “It’s not going to blow up.  Now pay attention…”

“I hafta go to the bathroom!” Nozomi interrupted.

“There’ll be one when we get there,” Anshi said while rubbing her temple.  “As I was saying, please pay attention as I go through this one last time.  The elevator will take the Princess down first, and then us.  You must all stay with your buddies at all times, and absolutely no wandering off.  When we are all down there, we will be taken to our room.  Does everyone remember what to do if the enemy breaks into our room during the eclipse?”

“We kick their faces in!” Ruanyu said brightly.  “And maybe other places too!  Like their…”

“Thank you, Ruyanu,” Anshi said pointedly.  “But yes, that is the general idea.  Older buddies are responsible for protecting the younger ones.  And…” her voice broke briefly as she glanced down, “You must all do exactly as I say when I say it, no questions asked.”

“What passionate Fire Nation citizens you all are,” Azula praised.  Internally, however, her mind whirred into action.  Had Anshi figured it out?  Just then, her escort tapped her shoulder; it was time for her to make her descent. She had no more time to think that over; now all her focus must be on the plan.

Even as far underground as they were, the elevator had a long way to go.  After it stopped, she was escorted through a maze of hallways; the layout would be bewildering to anyone else, but Azula had memorized every detail long ago.  

The room she had been assigned was bare of furnishings except a throne. No bathroom either; only chamber pots from Sozin’s day for the direst of emergencies.  Anshi had lied about that so the kids wouldn’t panic.  But it was no matter to Azula.  They’d only be here a few hours at most.  

So she crossed the room, sat down, and waited.  

[jorgha-haq]

At the moment I am also working my way through Neil Gaiman’s Masterclass and reading Chuck Palahniuk’s new book “Consider This: Moments in My Writing Life After Which Everything Was Different”. I’m trying to apply the advice in both of these things to these writing exercises I’ve been doing. Hopefully I can fit in some of these exercises after classes start, because i am quite enjoying them. Anyway, this story is an “assignment” from Neil’s Masterclass.

I picked The Big Bad Wolf (I hope I get to write things this cool for my Writing About Fairy Tales class this semester).

It was now The Big Bad Wolf’s turn to take the witness stand. His eyes were wide, his fur stood straight up. He let out a muffled growl.

The bailiff, who decided he really should have gone to college, approached carrying a book. “Place you hand…your paw on the Bible…”

The wolf looked at him, confused. “What is a Bible?”

The bailiff should not have been surprised, but he was. A wolf, let alone a talking wolf, standing trial was highly irregular. He did not have time to explain. “Never mind. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then.” The bailiff took the book and walked back to his post.

The judge looked at the wolf, the three little pigs who sat in front of the audience with their lawyer, and the animal control officer who had been called in, just in case. “The prosecution may begin.”

The lawyer, a small balding man resembling the pigs, stood up and approached the judge. He spoke in a monotone, “Thank you, Your Honour, for agreeing to hear this case.” He turned to all those present and stood the same way he did in school when he had to speak in front of the class. “I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mister Wolf did, in fact, try to eat my clients and is guilty of destruction of property, breaking and entering, and attempted murder.”

The judge could feel a headache coming on. “Very well. Proceed.”

The lawyer walked over to the wolf, watching him carefully. “Mister Wolf, do you recognize my clients?”

The Big Bad Wolf looked to the pigs and started salivating. “I do.”

“How did you meet them?”

The wolf looked at the pigs a moment longer, licked the spit off his mouth and answered, “I didn’t meet them, per se. I was in the woods doing wolf things when I just happened to come across their houses. I was hungry and thought I would be neighborly and introduce myself and see if I was offered a snack.”

“I see.” The lawyer said, not quite believing him. “Which of my clients homes did you approach?”

The wolf thought about it a moment. “I think it was the one in the red hat. They look the same so it’s hard to tell.”

“Go on. Tell the jury what you did next,” the lawyer encouraged.

“Well, I went up to his house…”

The lawyer cut him off. “Please describe the house.”

“It was poorly designed. Who has ever heard of building a house of out straw?” The wolf answered.

“So, you approached this house made out of straw?”

“Yes, yes I did. I knocked on the door and all the lights that were on went off.” The wolf explained.

“Why do you suppose that happened?” The lawyer asked.

“I don’t know.” The wolf said cautiously. He knew if the trial went wrong, he would be turned over to the animal control officer and the worst would probably happen. An injection of phenobarbital large enough to shut down his heart and lungs and it would be all over.

“When no one answered, did you threaten to destroy the house?” The lawyer questioned further.

“It was an empty threat, really. We all make them…” The wolf tried to explain.

“But you did destroy the house.” It was more of a statement than part of the line of questioning.

“It was an accident. The house wasn’t all that study, being made of straw and all. It collapsed when I sneezed. I have allergies.” The wolf responded.

The spectators whispered among themselves debating if a straw house could really fall under a sneeze.

“That must have been one powerful sneeze.” The lawyer commented. The wolf shrugged. He continued. “What happened after the house fell?”

‘Your client, the pig, screamed and ran off to a nearby house.” The wolf leaned back in his chair growing bored with the questioning. If he had just eaten the pigs, there would be no trial. There would be no witnesses to testify and he could be doing something fun, like harassing that girl who always cut through the woods taking baked good to her grandmother.

“Did you chase my client?” The lawyer asked.

“No.”

“Where did you go?”

“Home.

The lawyer nodded in acknowledgement. “The next night you attempted to approach my client again, this time at his brother’s house.”

‘I didn’t realize they were brothers.” The wolf said. “That explains why they look the same. I just thought it was a pig thing.”

The judge cleared his throat issuing a warning to the wolf to stop talking. It would be easy to rationalize that Mister Wolf was being racist against pigs and hold him in contempt of court. All that would accomplish is delaying rest of the trial. Binge watching Antique Roadshow would have to wait. He addressed the lawyer, “Please continue.”

“Yes, Your Honour.” The lawyer gave the wolf his full attention again. “In your own words, tell the jury what happened the next night.”

The wolf flashed the lawyer a quick smile. “Once again, I was out doing wolf things…”

He was cut off again. How did anything ever get settled in court if lawyers kept interrupting? “What exactly are ‘wolf things’?”

 “You know, chasing rabbits. Chasing my tail. Howling at the moon. Thinking about how privileged werewolves are. Wolf things.”

“Okay then.” The lawyer didn’t know what he was expecting for an answer, but he had to ask. “Continue.”

“As I was saying, I was out doing wolf things when I came across the house of your other client. It was almost as shabby as his brothers and made of sticks. He really should have hired a beaver contractor for the work. I was still interested in being neighborly and knocked on the door.”

“Mister Wolf, you do realize that usually when someone screams and runs away from you that means they want you to leave them alone, right? To continue to approach them is harassment. In this case it might be stalking as well.”

“Objection!” The defense attorney stood up.

The judge hit his little hammer on the desk, missing the wooden plate. “Overruled!”

A smug smile formed on the face of the prosecuting attorney. He continued with his questioning. “Did anyone answer the door?”

“No. Once again the lights went off.”

“And once again, you threatened to destroy the house?” The lawyer asked.

“No. Maybe. It depends on how you look at it. I thought it was funny anyone thought that a house made of sticks would offer any kind of protection. I made the comment that I could blow the house down if I really wanted to.” The wolf shifted in his chair. It was uncomfortable. A fancy courthouse could at least provide comfortable chairs.

“And did you want to?”

“After I thought about it a minute I kind of wanted to see if could really be done.” The wolf answered.

“Did you attempt it?” The lawyer asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Yes.”

“So, you admit to destruction of property in this case.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement for the jury explaining that The Big Bad Wolf admitted wrongdoing. “What happened next?”

           The wolf sighed. Things were not looking good, “They ran off screaming.”

           “According to my clients, on the third night you once again tried to gain entrance to one of their houses. Once again, explain to the jury in your own words what happened.” The lawyer said.

           There was no way he could spin this to make it sound like an accident. “Once again, as I do every night, I was off in the forest doing wolf things and I got to thinking about these pigs. I really wanted to know why they didn’t want to be friends. It’s hard being a wolf, you know. There are so many stereotypes against us. We’re mean. We steal chickens. We are cold blooded killers. It’s really quite annoying. Anyway, I decided to pay the pigs one last visit and try and find out why they wouldn’t give me a chance.”

           “And how did that go?” The lawyer asked.

           “Not good. Before I continue, I would like to commend your last client on his house building skills. Obviously, he’s the smart one of the lot, building a sturdy house of out bricks.”

           “A house you attempted to break into by climbing down the chimney.” The lawyer countered.

           “Only after they wouldn’t answer the door. I tried being polite and it got me nowhere. I was desperate! I wanted answers!” The wolf did his best to control himself while the annoyance of that even payed another visit.

           The lawyer had a never-ending list of questions. “And you thought breaking into the house was the way to get those answers?”

           The wolf shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

           The lawyer addressed the room. “I posit that Mister Wolf is not telling the entire truth and that on both the first and second nights he was indeed hungry and approached my clients house with the intent of eating him. With two potential meals getting away from him, Mister Wolf returned on the third night hoping to take revenge on my clients for not only humiliating him, but for causing him to miss two meals.”

           It was now the wolf’s turn to interrupt. “Like I said, there are a lot of stereotypes against wolves.”

           The prosecuting attorney forgot the rest of his closing statement. It happened more often than he was willing to admit to. Maybe it was time to retire. “The prosecution rests.”

           The judge let out a sigh of relief. “We will now recess for the jury to deliberate on the charges brought against Mister Wolf of destruction of property, breaking and entering, and attempted murder. This time the gavel hit the wooden plate.