#and then AGAIN on monday to retrieve my car

[your-jellyfish-senpai]

oh it's sad boi hours

[watermelonlovershigh]

In Sickness and in Health {part. 9} (housemate!harry series)

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this part took so long. it took me forever to write. it's quite a longer part so i hope you enjoy reading. don't forget to leave your feedback and reblog. also i think something went wrong with my taglist so if you weren't sent this from me tagging you, idk what happened. xoxo

This story contains: vomit (stomach bug), sickness comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of neglectful ex partners, accidentally dropping "L" bomb at the end

{ housemate!harry - friends to lovers - boyfriend!harry - softrry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,750

Harry unfortunately catches a stomach virus the day after you made your relationship official and you have to pick him up from work and take care of him for the rest of day, which he greatly appreciates.

Harry woke up on Monday morning and started getting ready for work as usual. Despite feeling a slight cramp in his stomach, he chose to disregard it. Just before leaving the house, he returned to your bedroom where both of you had slept the previous night and gently kissed his girlfriend's forehead. You were still asleep, having the flexibility to work from home, so there was usually no need for you to wake up at the same time as Harry. On his way out the front door, he grabbed a banana from the kitchen before making his way to his car.

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The stomach cramps that Harry felt while getting ready for work are still present, and as he starts teaching his first class of the day, he realizes that they're only getting worse. Initially, the sensation in his stomach was similar to cramps, but as time goes on, it becomes more of a swirling feeling that makes it difficult for him to focus on his task of teaching. Eventually, Harry opts to handing out worksheets for his students so he can sit down and attempt to alleviate the ache in his stomach.

Ultimately, the plan falls through because he reaches a point where he senses he's about to vomit all over his desk, in front of all his students, if he doesn't immediately go to the bathroom. Harry quietly gets up from his desk and leaves the classroom without any explanation. If he had more time, he would have requested his neighboring teacher to supervise his class while he steps out, but he's worried there's no time for that.

Upon reaching the hallway, Harry quickens his pace towards the nearby teachers' bathroom. Fortunately, they were conveniently located not too far from his own classroom. Without wasting a moment, he swiftly enters the one toilet bathroom, closes the door, and securely locks it behind him. Rushing towards the toilet, Harry manages to make it just in time. As he stands in front of the somewhat grimy white porcelain, he began to throw up the lasagna you'd cooked the night before and remnants of the banana he had forced himself to eat this morning.

When Harry completes the gross task, he straightens up, breathe labored, and retrieves some toilet paper to cleanse his nose and mouth. Subsequently, he flushes the toilet to prevent any further discomfort from the sight of his own puke. Now, he faces a dilemma. Is it possible that his sickness was a one-time occurrence, allowing him to continue teaching for the remainder of the day? Or, should he call and ask you to pick him up? He decides to pick the first option, unless he begins to feel sick again later on.

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Despite his best efforts, Harry can only make it until lunchtime before he finally gives in and calls you to come pick him up. He's been sick twice more since the first incident, and there doesn't seem to be any improvement in his condition. On top of Harry's queasy stomach, he now has a pounding headache and doesn't want to take the chance of driving himself home and getting into an accident. It's really frustrating because just yesterday you both decided to make your relationship official, and now Harry is feeling terribly ill. This was definitely not how he had planned today going.

He wanted to come home and canoodle you all evening. Make you dinner and begin working on his promise of all the places he intends on fucking you in. But instead, he's presumably got some sort of stomach bug that hinders any of that from happening.

Alone in his classroom while his students are at lunch, he pulls out his cellphone and dials up your number.

"Hello." you pick up with an upbeat tone, unaware of how the conversation is about to go. By looking at the time on your laptop, you assume Harry's on his lunch break and has a moment to talk. He's called you on his lunch break in the past, but now it feels different. You're boyfriend and girlfriend. His calls feel more meaningful now.

Harry nervously requests through the phone, "M' sorry to bother you, but could you come pick me up? I think I've caught some sort of stomach bug. I've thrown up three times already and m' not feelin' any better. I've also got a headache now. M' not sure if I can drive myself home."

You've never heard Harry sound so, bleh, since your time of knowing him. All the happiness he usually carries in his voice is gone and it breaks your heart to hear. You immediately set your laptop down and stand from the couch to slip a pair of shoes on. "Yeah Harry, I'll come and get you. Whereabouts do I need to park?"

"Just at the front entrance. I'll walk up to your car." he mumbles, not wanting to talk too much with a queasy belly.

"Okay, I'll be there shortly. Hang tight." you finish the phone call off before hanging up and grabbing your keys to head out the door. If Harry feels as bad as he sounded over the phone, you'd hate for him to stay any longer then he has to. Poor thing must be miserable.

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

When you reach the school's entrance, you see Harry standing there with his teacher's satchel hanging over his shoulder and a hand casually resting on his stomach. After placing the car in park, Harry quickly opens the passenger door and climbs in. He's ridden in your car just a few times before, mainly when you go grocery shopping or when grabbing a meal together.

As soon as Harry shuts the car door, he tries to get settled in car seat as best as possible while feeling like total shit. "Thank you for comin' to get me. Don't think I would've made it if I had to drive myself home."

Before placing the car back into drive, you coo over to him softly, "It's no problem, really. I hate that you're so sick. You were fine all weekend. When did you begin feeling sick?"

"While I was gettin' ready for work this mornin', I noticed my belly crampin' but ignored it. Then durin' my first class of the day, the crampin' turned into nausea before I ended up bein' sick in the teacher's toilet."

With the car in drive now, you begin pulling out of the school's lot and make the journey back to Harry's (yours too technically) house. "Awe, well I'll take care of you. No worries. In sickness and in health."

Harry abruptly turns his head to face you, worsening the throbbing headache he had been enduring, and instantly regretting his impulsive action. "What?" he responds with a touch of confusion, though internally filled with excitement over the end of your statement. "In sickness and in health? We only started datin' yesterday, we're not married." He refrains from expressing his true desire for future marriage.

Smiling playfully at the road, you reply, "I understand that, but I believe when you truly care about someone, you should stick to that commitment regardless of marriage. And since I'm your girlfriend and you're now my boyfriend, it means I care about you deeply and will take care of you, no matter the circumstances." What you really wanted to say is when you love someone alot, but didn't want to throw the love bomb in this conversation, afraid of how he'd react.

Harry feels as though he might throw up again and not from his stomach bug this time, but rather due to the pure admiration he feels towards you. Your endless compassion and selflessness towards him has the ability to make his heart feel as though it could burst at any given moment. He reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly, even from the early stages of your relationship when you were just housemates and acquaintances. During that time, he took care of you when you were sick due to your period cramps, showcasing his genuine concern for your well-being during a time where you were most vularable.

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After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrive home, and Harry silently expresses his gratitude towards the heavens above for helping him keep his stomach under control. He really didn't want to accidentally be sick in your car or have you pull over suddenly so he could spew on the side of the road. He's determined not to disgust his new girlfriend too much on your first full day together, although he's confident that you would have handled the situation with grace.

Getting out of the car, you instruct, "Go lie in bed and I'll bring you some medicine and plain crackers, alright. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Noo....." Harry whines as he drags his feet along the pavement to the front door, "don't wanna eat anythin'."

"But Harry, you need something on your tummy."

Huffing, he argues, "M' just gonna throw it back up and I don't wanna be sick again. I hate throwin' up."

You unlock the front door and step inside the living room, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys down. "I know baby but the medicine on an empty stomach may make you feel worse. Just a few nibbles is all I'm asking. And if you get sick afterwards, that's okay. At least I know you tried for me." Hey, you used the term 'baby' in a non sexual setting and it felt good. It felt right.

Harry makes his way to his bedroom and strips his work attire off before settling into the disheveled bed without a care in the world. Exhausted from the virus, he quickly falls asleep after laying his head on the pillow. His cat Pixie cuddled into his side. However, his slumber is short-lived as he's gently awakened, being asked to sit up and take the tablets that will hopefully help his sick tummy and headache. Along with the crackers you promised minutes prior.

He sits up and takes the pills with a glass of water but hesitates on the crackers. "Don't wanna." Harry whines again.

A smile escapes you as you observe his deeply furrowed brow. If you didn't know any better, you would assume Harry was a child, considering his current demeanor. Nevertheless, you don't hold it against him because you can be just as whiny when you're under the weather. Additionally, you empathize with the fear of being forced to eat something while suffering from an upset stomach. The fear of being sick again. "I understand Harry, but just try taking a small bite. That's all I'm asking for. Then I'll let you rest"

Reluctantly, Harry brings the cracker up to his mouth and takes a small bite, chewing it slowly before pushing the rest of the cracker aside. You take it from him and place it on his nightstand, in case he wants some later. Then you place his glass of water beside his bed, ready for when he becomes thirsty again. "Thank you. Now, rest. I'll be in the living room, finishing up the work I was doing before I came to get you. If you need me, call for me, okay. I'll hear you."

Laying down with the covers up to his chin, Harry mummers a quiet, "Okay." and you lean down to place a gentle kiss on his warm forehead.

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

Harry gets about an hour of rest before he awakens to his tummy swirling again. He lays there, trying to breath his nausea away, but to his luck, he only feels more and more sick as the minutes pass. So he finally makes the decision to get up and go to the bathroom. From your spot on the sofa, you hear footsteps on the creaky wood floor and then see Harry emerge from his bedroom and go inside the bathroom in the hallway.

You wait a few seconds, thinking he may have just needed to use the toilet, when you're suddenly startled by the sounds of dry heaving. Concerned, you decide to go check on your boyfriend. Approaching the bathroom door, you cringe at the sounds of Harry being sick. You have always found it difficult to be around someone who is vomiting or hearing those sounds, but you're determined to be there for Harry. With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and cautiously enter the bathroom.

The scene in front of you is truly heartbreaking. Although you haven't known Harry for very long, less than a year in fact, during the time you've spent with him, you've never seen him in such a weak and vulnerable state. You long for the return of your cheerful and smiling boyfriend, not the sickly one with clammy skin, likely from a cold sweat. "Oh, Harry," you murmur softly as you approach the cabinet to retrieve a cloth to soothe his sweaty skin.

Taking a deep breath over the toilet bowl, he replies, "M' alright, m' alright."

Now with the cool, damp cloth in your hand, you kneel down on the hard floor and gently blot the rag on his pale skin. Being thoughtful, Harry reaches up to flush the toilet so you don't get exposed to the disgusting sight of his puke. "Do you feel better now?"

Harry shakes his head no before speaking with a raspy voice, due to him having gotten sick several times today, "Not really. Still feel sick to m' stomach. You can leave if you want. You don't have to be in here and watch me get sick. M' sure the sight is very unpleasant."

"Harry, I'm not leaving you, okay. I'm gonna be in here and take care of you. You took care of me a while back when I was throwing up from my period cramps. Told me not to be embarrassed because we all get sick from time to time. So now we're even."

Harry, too sick to reply, fixates his gaze on the toilet as you gently glide the wet cloth across his skin. Despite his desire to express how good that cloth feels, the rising bile in his throat hinders him. He straightens his posture, positioning his head over the toilet. Once his mouth begins to water, he realizes his impending fate. A loud retching sound escapes his throat, followed by the expulsion of whatever little remains in his stomach. In order to shield yourself from the sight of him vomiting, you instinctively turn away, fearing the potential of falling ill yourself.

Thankfully, Harry's hair is held back by one of the small black clips you'd left on the bathroom counter, so that's one less thing he has to worry about. After throwing up this time, you can hear him making further attempts to bring up more, but unfortunately, he's unsuccessful. Probably because he's already been sick multiple times today and his stomach is now completely empty of food.

After finally calming down, he agrees when you suggest, "Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll bring you more medicine? Sitting in front of the toilet seems to be making you feel worse." You assist Harry in standing up and hold his hand as you guide him towards his bedroom. Although he would have liked to brush his teeth, he's sadly too exhausted to even lift the toothbrush to his mouth

He gets settled back in bed and you hurry and grab the medicine to help soothe his nausea. Within minutes, you're back at his side, handing him the pills and his glass of water. He swallows the medicine slowly and begins to relax. As you're about to leave, Harry stops you. "Y/n...... could you, um, can you come cuddle me, please. Know you were workin' but um, I'd really like a cuddle." How can you say no to that.

Turning around, you smile gently and say, "Of course. Let me go switch my laptop off. I'll be right back." You go back to the living room and close your laptop, then return to Harry's bedroom. You climb into bed beside him, being careful not to disturb Pixie who has moved to the foot of her dad's bed, and scoot over to cuddle with your boyfriend of a day.

Harry shifts his position, resting his head on your chest, and starts apologizing. "M' sorry. This is not the way I envisioned today goin'. After the incredible day we had yesterday and us becomin' official, I had hoped for today to go the same. Planned to fulfill my promise of fuckin' you in at least one of the places I promised I would." Despite the fact that his words would have sounded amusing under different circumstances, his illness causes him to speak in a casual tone, unintentionally adding a touch of humor.

Running your fingers through his sweaty hair, you mutter, "Harry, don't apologize for being sick. You can't control if you get sick or not. And don't worry about that. Once you're sickness leaves, we'll have plenty of time to work on those promises, alright. Now get some rest and later I'll make you some soup. Wake me up if you feel sick again."

More than anything, Harry wants to reply with an agreement followed by the three words, 'I love you', but can't. Not yet. Not until he knows you're ready to hear that. So instead, he nods his head slightly against your chest and shuts his eyes, praying the medicine you gave him works and he doesn't get sick anymore today.

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

At seven that night, you awoke from your slumber. Sitting up in bed, you stretched and observed your boyfriend still in a deep sleep. He seemed less pale, indicating a positive change, although he remained slightly sweaty. Quietly, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to start working on the soup you had promised Harry earlier, hoping he would have an appetite by now.

Upon completing the homemade chicken noodle soup, you carefully carried a bowl to Harry's room and helped him sit up to have his meal. You fed him, aware that his hands might be a bit shaky, and he is in complete awe of the kindness you have shown him today. He ponders, had you not made your relationship official yesterday, would you still be just as caring towards him. Of course, you would.

By this point in the day, his stomach had thankfully settled and he had even developed a slight craving for your scrumptious soup. After he had finished eating, you aided Harry in taking a bath. You prepared a warm bath and added bubbles to create an extra soothing atmosphere. Initially, your plan was to kneel on the bathmat beside the tub and assist him from there, but he insisted that you join him. Without hesitation, you joined him in the bath.

This signifies the first time you and Harry are sharing a bath, without any sexual implications. Inside the tub, you allowed Harry to lean back onto your body, gently caressing his tummy beneath the water. He expresses his satisfaction with a pleasurable moan and nearly dozes off against you. As the water temperature decreases, you begin to thoroughly wash his hair and body.

Breaking the quietness of the room, Harry whispers, "Thank you so much, Y/n. Like really, thank you. What you've done for me today means so much to me. More than you even understand." You stop the sponge along his skin when you realize he's actually getting emotional.

"Baby," you coo softly from behind him, "you don't have to thank me. I want to care for you. Did all your previous partners not want to care for you when you were sick?"

With tears welling up in his eyes, he proceeds to explain, "To be honest, not really. There was this one incident during my college years when I had caught a terrible cold. My girlfriend at the time expressed her reluctance to getting sick, so she never bothered to visit me in my dorm even once. Also didn't bother to call and check up on me. Then, about four years ago, I went on a date with my boyfriend at the time, Mark, to a restaurant. Unfortunately, I ended up with food poisoning and instead of offering any assistance, he simply drove me home and told me he would see me once I recovered. Hence, I don't expect a partner to do what you have done for me. It feels so nice to have someone take care of you when you're unwell that's not your own mother"

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After the bath where you had some deep and vulnerable conversations, you assisted Harry out of the tub. After drying both yourself and him off with a towel, you helped him change into a fresh pair of briefs. You then directed him to lay down in your bed, as his sheets needed to be replaced due to them being soiled with sweat and germs from his stomach bug.

Turning off all the lights, you proceeded to your room, where Harry was lying down with Pixie nestled on his chest, enjoying the gentle strokes he gave her behind her ear as she purred contentedly. The bond he shares with his cat is truly adorable. He loves that cat more than anything, even you. Though you guess that's understandable since he's had that cat way longer than he's even known you for.

You take hold of the tv remote and select a movie on Netflix to watch until both of you nearly drift off to sleep once more. Harry is optimistic and hopeful that he will feel better tomorrow. He doesn't think he'll be able to return to work just yet, but is relieved that the nausea has subsided. Thankfully, the soup you prepared has stayed down, indicating a positive sign.

As your eyes grow heavy with fatigue, threatening to succumb to sleep, you feel Harry nestling himself closer to your side, followed by a hushed declaration of "Love you." In spite of your stillness, your eyes widen in surprise. Shifting your head slightly, you observe that Harry has already slipped into sleep, seemingly oblivious to his inadvertent admission.

Regardless of his true intentions, you are certain that this wasn't how he intended to convey his love for you. Now, you must find a way to approach this subject with him, hoping he doesn't get embarrassed or worse, deny the authenticity of his words.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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My Masterlist Masterpost

"Do you love me?" {part. 10}

[its-sixxers]

so i went out of town this weekend to take my bf on a business trip, trip itself was fun good times were had toured the town a bit

just about to leave for the four hour drive back home and my car's battery dies. i'm just out of the service region for battery replacement for the motor assocation i'm a member for. get towed five mins into town so they can get a guy to replace my battery.

oops, turns out my alternator is fucked not just my battery! and it's sunday, so no mechanics are open, and we both need to be back in town monday for work! hey, good thing my membership covers one long distance tow right?

no because that first five minute tow counted as my convenience tow.

so several hundred dollars, six hours of waiting, and a four hour tow truck ride in the middle of the night later we get to my mechanics to drop my vehicle off 1 am monday morning

mechanics call me at 11 am this morning going "hey so your alternator is actually fine just replacing the battery tripped all the warning lights in your car, we took it for a long drive and are sure it's fixed yay you don't have to pay for a new alternator"

over the moon i retrieve my car, now not having to rely on my bestie for a ride to work and to my parents' (who happened to just leave on a road trip vacay and charged me with watching the cats), i get my things done for the day and start my drive home relieved

battery light comes on when i stop at a stoplight. but it turns off soon after. ok.jpg

ten minutes later it comes on again at a stop light, then turns off soon after again. oh no.

about ten minutes from my house it turns on again and this time stays on. quick google of the error it throws on my car's screen indicates an alternator problem. of course my mechanic's is closed so i get to fret all night before i can call tomorrow morning.

this all happens JUST as i start being able to put anything in my savings account and pay off my credit card of course

i am also doing dry september this month and man i need a beer

[vanfleeter]

Distant // JTK

Pairing: Jake x reader Warning: Angst, angst, angst--did I mention angst? Mentions of sex, little fluff. Author's Note: I don't know where this thought came from but never the less, here it is. Summary: Does he not love you anymore? Why is he acting so different?

You haven’t seen much of Jake for a few weeks. Constantly working in the studio or so he claims. Leaves early before you’re awake, which is odd because he’s not much of a morning person so it takes some coaxing for him to get up. Then he spends his days so late in the studio that he ends up just sleeping there. He’s constantly going out with the guys and not once inviting you or thinking maybe you’d like to come along. He’s hardly ever touched you. Doesn’t hold your hand when the two of you go out on double dates with Sam and his girlfriend or Danny and his girlfriend. He doesn’t even kiss you often either. Frankly you can’t even remember the last time the two of you kissed or were intimate with each other.

The house was empty for the most part except for you. You stopped rushing home from work to get dinner started so it'd be done in time for when Jake arrived home so the two of you could eat together and spend a few hours together before retiring to bed.. Why rush when there’s no one to feed besides yourself? Until one night…

Pulling into the driveway you find yourself confused seeing Jake’s jeep parked in his usual spot. Cutting the engine, you grab your things from the passenger seat and climb out of the car. Making your way up to the front door you unlock it and step inside. Sitting in the entryway is your suitcase and his with your small duffel sitting on top and his guitar leaning case leaning against his.

Hanging up your coat and setting your purse on the table, you head upstairs to the bedroom to find Jake showering. You weren’t sure what was going on or what exactly you should be doing, so you sat on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed in front of you. You hear the shower turn off not too much longer and he comes out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“You should shower too,” He says. “Our flight leaves at seven tomorrow morning so you won’t have time to do it beforehand.”

“Where are we going?” You ask.

He pauses in front of the dresser. “Michigan?” He says before pulling open the top drawer of his dresser and pulling out a pair of boxers. “It’s dad’s birthday, remember? We all planned to go up to celebrate since we actually gave the time off to do it this year. It’s all weekend, you took this coming Monday off months ago in case we got back late.”

“Oh..”

“You forgot..” He says, removing the towel and slipping on his boxers.

“It must’ve slipped my mind,” You say getting off the bed. “Have a lot going on…” You slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

A lot has been going on. Thoughts swimming through your mind wondering if he still loves you or if this relationship has run its course after five years of being together. Five years. Is he bored? Is he wanting someone different? Is it you? Is that why he’s never home so he doesn’t have to see you as much?

Stripping out of your clothes, you turn on the shower and step in underneath the constant flowing of water and letting it soak your hair and your body. You wash your hair and your body and make sure to shave just in case he’s packed you any shorts or dresses.

Setting down the razor, you stand there underneath the stream of water and close your eyes. Feeling the overwhelming thoughts creep into your mind again, you slowly sink to the floor of the tub and sob in your hands, careful not to make a sound. The last thing you need or even want right now is for Jake to ask what’s going on.

Stepping out of the shower in just your towel, you find Jake already in bed and reading. Going over to your dresser you pull open the top drawer and retrieve your underwear and pajamas before retreating back into the bathroom to get dressed. Getting dressed in your night clothes, you brush your teeth and finish your facial routine before going back out to the bedroom and climbing into bed.

“I won’t be reading much longer,” He says. “I’ll turn the lamp off when I’m done.”

You nod your head and slip underneath the covers and turn your back towards him. You pull the covers up to your nose and try to keep your body still as the silent sobs take over your body again.

You wake up the next morning to Jake’s alarm going off. Your head is pounding from all the crying, so when you get out of bed you immediately go to the bathroom to retrieve a couple pills of tylenol to take before brushing your teeth.

Within the next hour, the two of you are on your way to the airport. It’s quiet in the car, considering it’s four in the morning. What is there to talk about at four in the morning? Oh wait.. Every single thought that is still plaguing your mind. Shockingly enough he brings you coffee while the two of you wait to board the plane.

“Good morning!” Josh cheerfully smiles as he approaches the two of you with Danny in tow behind him. “You look awful.” He says as he pulls you in for a hug. “But still somehow you look beautiful at the same time.”

You feel a smile tug at both ends of your mouth. “Good morning to you too Josh.”

“(Y/N)!” Sam’s girlfriend exclaims as she and Sam join the group. She throws her arms around you and hugs you tightly. You giggle and hug her back. “Are you doing okay?” She asks. “It’d been a hot minute since we last hung out, my apologies. Work has been demanding..”

You laugh and shake your head. “Oh it’s okay, and I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” She asks quietly so the boys don’t overhear.

You nod your head, fighting the urge to cry. You lift your coffee up to your lips and take another drink. “Alright well I’m around if you want to talk.” You nod your head again and she slips back over to Sam who embraces her in a hug.

The group finally boards the plane and you find yourself in the window seat with Jake beside you and Josh beside him. He tried to reach for your hand but you moved it away and made yourself in the chair. It’s only a couple hour flight but any sleep you can get, you’ll take it.

Landing in Detroit, Sam and Danny go off to find the rental car while the rest of you retrieve suitcases and duffels from baggage claim. You go grab your duffel off of the conveyor belt when Jake grabs it for you.

“Oh..” You say. “I could’ve..” But he was already walking away.

You caught eyes with Sam’s girlfriend and she raises her eyebrows. You shake your head and follow after Jake. Suddenly you’re stopped by a few fans asking for photos with the twins. You and Sam’s girlfriend stand off to the side allowing the boys to have some space while they chat with the fans. You hear Jake laugh, a laugh you haven’t heard in a while. And his smile. His perfect smile. You’re close enough to the doors that you can see Sam and Danny pulling up to the curb with the car and getting out.

“We should head out to the car.” Sam’s girlfriend says as she nudges your side.

“Yeah, okay..” You say.

She walks over to the boys and whispers in Josh’s ear. He smiles and nods his head before saying something back.

“They won’t be much longer.” She says. “Couple minutes.”

She stops you just before the sliding doors and grabs your arm. “Seriously, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Okay.. But as soon as we get to the house, we’ll talk.”

You nod your head. “Yeah, sure.” —

“There’s my boys!” Karen exclaims as she greets everyone on the front porch. “You all are just in time for breakfast, I have everything all laid out in the dining room so go help yourselves.”

Jake grabs your hand and tugs you inside and into the dining room. He made sure to sit you next to him and began filling both of your plates with food.

“This good?” He asks. “Or do you want anything else?”

“This is fine.”

“Good.” He places the plate down on the table in front of you and kisses the side of your head.

What?

Breakfast went by with laughter and jokes before the table began to get cleared. “Jake, we’re gonna head out back to kick around the soccer ball, you in?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you out there.” Jake responds before turning to you. “You want to join?” He asks.

You see Sam’s girlfriend waving at you to join her somewhere else. “Uh yeah, later though.” You say squeezing his hand before slipping past him.

“Okay, what is happening?” She says as she pulls you out to the front porch where Ronnie is already sitting with coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. “What is going on with you and Jake?”

Ronnie perks up and puts away her phone. “Uh oh, what’d my brother do?”

“Nothing, nothing..” You shake your head as you sit down on the steps of the porch.

“(Y/N)..” Ronnie says as she gets up from the chair and goes to sit beside you. “Fill me in?” She says looking at Sam’s girlfriend.

“Something that’s not good. You could feel the tension in the airport to and from.” She says. “Now what’s going on?” She says turning to you.

“Nothing..” You say again. “Literally nothing.. There’s nothing happening. No hand holding, nothing intimate. He’s hardly ever home, I’ve only seen him a handful of times in the last few weeks and even then he’s been distant. It seriously feels like he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“But that can’t be true,” Ronnie says. “I know for fact that that man is head over heels in love with you. And all of the PDA this morning?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “We’re around you all. He’s going to show affection because he doesn’t want it to look like we're falling apart.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you shake your head. “If he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, then he just needs to tell me. I’m tired of being strung along like this.. It fucking sucks and it hurts so bad..”

“Oh god..” Ronnie sighs. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly. “Men are idiots.. Have you talked to him?”

You shake your head. “When? He’s barely ever home.”

“Maybe you should talk to him while you two are both here.” She says.

“I can’t do that. I don’t want to ruin your father’s birthday by putting Jake in a mood, Jenny help me out here.”

“She’s not wrong, (Y/N), you need to talk to him. Figure out what’s going on.”

The front door swings open and Jake steps out. “Ronnie, mom needs your help in the kitchen.”

“Can’t you help her?”

“No, she asked for you specifically.” He says.

Ronnie sighs. “I’ll find you later.” She says to you before standing up and heading inside.

“I’m gonna go find Sam,” Jenny says as she nods her head at you. “Maybe I can rope him into helping with the decorations.” She gives your hand a slight squeeze before she stands up from the steps and heads inside as well leaving you and Jake alone on the porch.

You stand up from the porch and straighten out your clothes. “I’m gonna go see if there’s anything I can help with too.” Walking inside and going into the kitchen you catch eyes with Ronnie and shake your head. Now is not the time to discuss Jake’s behavior. “Karen, can I help with anything?” You ask.

“Yes actually, can you grab the pasta for me and strain it?” She says. “Be sure to run cold water through afterwards to cool it down.”

“Of course.”

The oven dings just as Jake walks into the kitchen. “Oh perfect timing,” She smiles at him. “Do you mind grabbing the garlic bread out of the oven for me sweetheart?” She says. Ronnie shoots him a taunting look and he rolls his eyes.

“Sure thing, Mom.” He says as he goes over to the oven. Pulling open the door he leans back away from the heat as it bellows. Grabbing the mitts he reaches for the pan and begins to pull it out when suddenly he hisses and drops it on the top of the stove. “Fuck!” He shakes his hand and steps away from the oven.

“Oh honey, are you okay?” Karen says as she grabs his hand.

“Yeah I’ll be fine..” He says.

“(Y/N), take him upstairs please. There’s cooling cream in the linen closet and gauze as well.”

You nod your head and turn off the cold water before grabbing hold of Jake's other hand and pulling him upstairs to the bathroom. The silence is nothing but uncomfortable as you twisted the cap off of the cream. Aside from Jake’s hissing again as you applied it, neither of you utter a single word. Wrapping his hand with the gauze, you throw away the trash and recap the cream before leaving the bathroom. You felt like you were being suffocated by the tension and you just needed to get away from him.

You find yourself back outside on the front porch and leaning over the railing. You needed to get out of there but you couldn’t take the rental, it was blocked in by Josie’s car and there’s no way you could walk either. You hear the front door and Jake’s boots hit the wood of the porch. He steps beside you and wraps his hands around the railing.

“I think we should talk.” He says.

“We shouldn’t do it here.” You say. “Not now.”

“It’s important..” He says. “We have to.”

“I already have a feeling I know what you’re gonna say so just save it until we get back to Nashville. It’ll make this trip less awkward than it already is.”

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but judging the tone of your voice, I can already tell you that you’re wrong.” He says.

“Then fill me in,” You say. “Because you haven’t been around for three weeks and when you are it just feels like you don’t care anymore that I’m there.. Why am I even here anyways?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Am I really?” You turn to face him. “Because lately I just feel like I’m just…here.” Jake leans on the railing once more. A word not falling from his lips. You nod your head and step away from the railing. “Right, well when you figure out what the hell is going with you, then come find me.”

Arriving back in Nashville, the car ride home was spent in silence. Not even the radio was playing. You left your bags still packed by the door as you grabbed your car keys. Jake stops at the foot of the stairs.

“What are you doing?” He says.

You suck in a breath and sling your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I’m gonna stay with Casey.” You say.

Jake’s eyebrows furrow. “What? W-Why?” He stammers as he drops his bags to the floor by his feet.

“Because Jake, you need to figure out whatever it is that you need to figure out. Don’t force this relationship if it’s not what you want anymore..”

“Of course it’s what I want.” He says as he steps up to you. He tries to reach for your hand but you pull away. He sighs and lowers his head. “I want this, I want all of it and I’m sorry that I’ve not shown you that these last few weeks, I guess I’ve just had my priorities out of order…”

“I won’t ask you to make a choice because that’s not fair to you.. But I will ask you to think over this relationship..”

“I don’t need to think this over,” Jake says. “You are what I want.”

“Three weeks feels like an eternity.” You say.

“Give me another chance?” He says peeking up at you.

You can’t deny how cute he looks whenever he looks at you from underneath his eyes. You heave a sigh and drop your bags to the floor. “You know I can never say ‘no’ when you look at me like that.”

“It’s how I won you over at the airport bar.” He says winking at you.

You giggle and shake your head. “Not as romantic as you might think it sounds.” You say. “And you flirted with me over a mango seltzer.”

Jake chuckles. “It still worked.” He says smiling. He pulls you into his body and places his hands on your hips. “I really am sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. I’ve just been so stressed with work that I lost sight of everything that was more important.” He holds you tightly, one arm wrapped around your waist while the one is snaked up your back with his hand resting on the back of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He pulls away slightly to look down at you. “Do you want to know what I’ve missed?” He asks as he presses his body into yours.

“Oh baby, you know I’d never turn down special Jakey time but I’m tired from flying.” You say patting his chest and pulling away.

“You’re not serious?” He says as he watches you head for the stairs. “Hey!”

You stop midway up the stairs and look back at him. “I need sleep.”

“You only lost an hour! How tired could you be?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I just am. Maybe tomorrow we can have some fun.” You turn back around to continue up the stairs.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” Jake shouts as he chases after you up the stairs. “Get back here!”

[totowlff]

chapter ten — jackpot

➝ what are the chances of a dream coming true on any given friday?

➝ word count: 3,8k

➝ warnings: mentions of medical procedures

➝ author’s notes: i strongly advise you to translate the parts in german.

Cassie sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to calm herself down before she went into the fertility clinic.

She had come to find out if she could undergo her second attempt at in-vitro fertilization after the first round had failed.

She and Toto had made the decision together to proceed with a second round at her flat a few weeks prior. The following Monday, Cassie called the clinic to find out what the procedure would be like since they had some frozen embryos.

Her doctor explained that, although she would not need to go through the egg retrieval process like the first time, she would need to repeat the cycle of hormones she’d gone through before the first embryo transfer to prepare her uterus for implantation once more. Cassie had a feeling that would be the case, but she was still a bit frustrated when she found out that she would need to wait a month following the period she’d had after the first failed round. Her doctor had explained that it was important to give  her uterus a chance to recover from the first cycle. It was understandable, but Cassie was still anxious. 

Since she and Toto decided to try again, she’d started counting down the days on her wall calendar until she would be able to start a new cycle. It was agonizing — she’d have to wait five weeks to the day after one of the most depressing days of her life.

Finally, the appointed Friday arrived. Cassie woke up early to go to the clinic for a quick fasting blood draw before work to check her hormone levels so her doctor could plan the next cycle. She didn’t mind — it was a race week, so it was better for her to be at the factory early, anyway.

After her blood was drawn, Cassie was told to stop by at the end of the day to receive the results and figure out what her next steps would be. She thanked the nurse and left the clinic, unable to shake her looming anxiety.

The day felt like it was dragging on, even though Cassie was incredibly busy with her race weekend workload. She had also been dealing with her period earlier on in the week, and was still feeling a little fatigued. However, even the urge to go home and lie down on the couch didn’t stop her from going back to the clinic after work for her results, and to find out what was next.

Cassie took a few deep breaths bet getting out of the car and going into the building. She felt her phone vibrate inside her bag as she stepped into the clinic’s waiting room, but ignored it for a moment while she said hello to the receptionist. 

— Good afternoon, Miss Aldersey — she said.

— Good afternoon, Ashley, I came to get the results of my blood test from this morning — Cassie replied. 

While Ashley typed something into her computer, Cassie opened her purse and checked her phone. Toto had sent her a message.  “I'll answer him later”, she thought, shoving the phone back into her purse.

— Of course, Miss Aldersey. Could you follow me? — the receptionist said, while getting up to lead her to a private room. It was just like when she’d started this process and received her blood test results and instructions.

Cassie didn’t find the experience of having to go through all of this again very pleasant. She had hoped to go through this only once and only return to check on issues related to the health of the baby growing inside her. But fate, God, coincidences, chance, or some other entity ensured that she wasn’t pregnant after her first embryo transfer.

Upon entering the room, Ashley asked her to sit down and wait for the nurse to arrive so they could review her results. While she waited, she fished her cell phone out of her purse to check the message Toto had sent her. It was direct and simple.

“Is everything going okay? How are your blood tests?”, his message read.

Cassie wrote that she was waiting on the nurse and put her phone back in her bag as soon as she tapped “send”. As soon as she zipped up her purse, Martina, the head nurse at the clinic, knocked on the door and let herself in.

— Good afternoon, Miss Aldersey, how are you?

— I’m okay, Martina. How about you?

— I'm fine, honey. So, let’s talk about your results.

— Okay.

— Your hormone levels are very good, which leads us to believe that you’re making good progress so far.

— I'm glad — Cassie said.

— It is normal for these levels to double every two days, so these high numbers are what we expect to see — Martina said, pointing out some numbers on the clipboard she was showing Cassie —  They are within the expected range for the beginning of a healthy pregnancy.

Cassie blinked, stunned.

— I'm sorry, but did you say pregnancy?

— Yes, Miss Aldersey.

More silence.

— I think there's been a mistake, Martina.

The woman widened her eyes.

— Why makes you think that, Miss Aldersey?

— My first cycle didn't work out. I… I thought this blood test was to do a check for my hormones before another embryo transfer. Why are you talking about pregnancy?

The woman looked down at the test results in her hands, then back up at Cassie.

— Well, your results indicate that there are levels of hCG in your blood that are consistent with that of a pregnant woman.

She felt her heart skipping a beat.

— Martina, that doesn't make any sense — Cassie said — I did the tests before, nothing was detected, I had my period right after, and another period just finished. There must have been some sort of mix-up in the lab or something...

— Miss Aldersey, you were the only patient who had a blood draw today. There weren’t any other samples in the lab to mix yours up with.

Cassie blinked. She felt like the floor was disappearing under her feet.

— But... But... Is there a chance that there was some… Mistake… A false positive?

— It’s not impossible, but it’s not likely — Martina replied, looking again at the papers in her hand, reading the numbers printed on them. When she saw the look on Cassie's face, she looked thoughtful for a moment — Well, if I may ask... Have you had sexual intercourse in the last five weeks?

The image of Toto above her, his face contorted in an expression of pure pleasure as he came inside her filled Cassie's mind. It had been… 

Four weeks.

— Uh, well… Y-yes — Cassie stammered, a little dazed.

Martina smiled.

— Well, then I believe that there is a high likelihood that you conceived naturally since your last period.

Cassie was having a hard time wrapping her head around it. No, it wasn’t possible.

— But, my period just ended…

— Was the flow lighter than normal?

Cassie thought for a second, before tentatively nodding.

— It was probably implantation bleeding, which is quite common in the first few weeks of pregnancy. 

Cassie fell silent, and her heart was beating so fast she thought it would explode inside her chest. Her breathing was heavy, her hands had started to shake. It seemed too surreal to be true. “Am I dreaming?”, she wondered.

— Miss Aldersey — Martina said, crouching down in front of her and placing her hands on Cassie’s knees, a wide smile on her face — You did it. You're pregnant.

— I'm pregnant — she repeated, as if in a trance.

— You’re going to be a mum.

— I’m going to be a mum — Cassie repeated.

— Yes, there's a little baby growing inside you right now. And it is doing very well, Miss Aldersey, if your hormone levels are any indication.

Cassie’s head was floating, her body numb. It couldn’t be.

— Fuck — she muttered.

Martina laughed.

— I know this isn’t usually how women find out they’re pregnant, but it's a special moment nonetheless, don’t you think?

— What now?

The head nurse smiled.

— Well, in case of success at conception, we refer the patient to an obstetrician for pregnancy care. 

— But… What should I do?

— I'm sorry, I don't understand, Miss Aldersey.

— I mean, there’s so much to do now, like… do I buy maternity clothes? Should I start putting that… cocoa bu4tter lotion on my belly? Do I put in for leave at work? Do I already choose the hospital where I will give birth? Should I start getting the nursery ready? What about the name? — she asked, gesturing wildly. She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t stop herself. It felt like all the pregnancy articles she'd read up until then started to jumble together in her head.

— I know it’s a lot to think about, but I think you could start by telling your partner that he's going to be a father.

The word 'father' made Cassie's heart skip a beat. Not only had she become a mother-to-be, but Toto had also become a father-to-be. He needed to know that he was going to have a child. He needed to know that they had done it, in more ways than one.

But Toto was in Spain. She couldn’t possibly tell him over the phone.

The rest of the conversation with Martina was a blur. Cassie received prescriptions, a referral to an obstetrician, and a pair of white crocheted baby booties from the clinic, and the well-wishes of the nurse and staff.

Back in the car, Cassie had no idea what to do. She felt dazed, lost, and a little scared. She had gone to start a second fertilization cycle and left the clinic with the news she had been waiting for months, something she’d wanted more than anything. Instead of feeling joy, she felt an almost-paralyzing fear.

Staring at the silver Mercedes logo on the steering wheel, resting her hands on her stomach, Cassie only snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the insistent vibrating of her phone inside of her purse. She dug it out again and saw Toto’s name on the caller ID. 

— Hello?

— Hi, Cassie. Is everything okay?

"You are going to be a father".

— Yes — she replied, in a thin voice.

— How did things go at the clinic?

"I'm pregnant".

— Things went… Fine  — Cassie said, hesitantly.

Toto was quiet on the other end of the line, like he knew something was up.

— Are you sure, Cassie? Any issues with the results?

"We are going to have a child".

— Yes. There was a… Change.

— Change? What kind of change? You weren't taking any medications.

"In our life, forever".

— I know, but… It's just… Toto, this is something I'd like to talk to you about in person.

More silence on the other end of the line.

— It is serious?

“Do you consider having a child serious, Toto?”

— No, not really. What time do you come back on Sunday?

— I believe I'll be in Oxford by early evening. I can stop by your flat before I go home. How about that?

— Perfect — she replied, forcing herself to smile. If she sounded more optimistic, over the phone, maybe Toto would worry less.

He said goodbye to her and hung up the phone. After staring at her own reflection on the screen for a few seconds, Cassie leaned her head against the back of the seat, letting out a long sigh, bringing her hand to her stomach.

She would lose it by then.

The weekend was agonizing. Cassie's effort to think about anything other than the fact that there was a human being growing inside her was futile. She seemed to sabotage herself at every turn, whether it was spending time doing research, browsing Instagram and looking at other people’s baby pictures, or watching free and qualifying practices, hoping to see a little bit of Toto.

“Does he have any idea what I'm going to tell him?” she wondered, staring at the image of him on the television, his jaw set in concentration as he sat at the engineering station. It made Cassie think of his expression when he was inside her, promising that he would give a child to her. He unknowingly fulfilled his promise that night.

Cassie was far more nervous on Sunday morning. She was so distracted that she couldn’t finish anything she’d started. She was having breakfast when she decided to take a shower. In the middle of the shower, she remembered something that she wanted to look something up. She left something out on the counter instead of putting it in the refrigerator. Her nerves were so bad that her stomach was twisting and churning, making her throw out the uneaten half of her breakfast. When she tried to put on her deodorant, she recoiled at the smell and became immediately nauseous. 

— Thanks for letting me know you're there, little brat — she muttered, getting up from in front of the toilet to brush her teeth and get the taste of bile out of her mouth.

After leaving the bathroom, Cassie went back for something she had bought at the end of the first fertilization cycle, when she still hoped she was pregnant. She dug through her bedroom closet, moving aside some clothes and a few boxes until she found what she was looking for. It was a small box. She took the package in her hand and sat on the edge of her bed to open the lid, revealing a small onesie nestled in some teal tissue paper, smiling at it. It had a race car and some text that said “Future Mercedes Driver” on it. Cassie thought it was too cute to resist ordering when she saw it online.

It was how she’d planned on surprising Toto with the good news the first time, but when the first IVF cycle failed, she shoved the box deep into her closet, because remembering she had it was too painful. But now it was real. The onesie had an owner growing inside of her, and the owner’s father needed to know.

At the end of the day, Cassie received a message from Toto, a heads-up that he was returning from Barcelona and that his flight would be landing after about two hours. She sent a thumbs-up emoji, for lack of anything better to say to him other than "you're going to be a father".

Those few hours felt so long. Not even the fourth episode of Girlboss managed to distract Cassie from looking at the little white box resting on her coffee table. Her eyes were glued to her phone’s clock, and she was practically praying for time to pass faster so her anticipation and nerves would be resolved sooner. She just wanted to be able to tell Toto so that they would be able to enjoy the moment together. Only when Toto, the man who had been dreaming of this with her, knew, would she be able to relax.

The sound of the doorbell made her jump off the couch and practically sprint to the button near her door that opened the building’s exterior door. A few seconds later, Cassie heard a knock on the door to her flat. She broke into a smile as she opened it, and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. 

— Good evening, Cassie — Toto said.

— Good evening — she replied, exerting a great deal of effort to appear nonchalant  — Come in.

He walked past her and toed off his shoes in the hallway as Cassie closed the door. She felt like her whole body was trembling. Taking a second to breathe, she followed after him, who had headed into the living room, where the episode of Girlboss was paused.

— Well, I was going to stop by today anyway, but you said you needed to talk to me, so I decided to stop by before I went home.

— Yes, I needed… I need to.

— Well, I'm here. 

Cassie stared at him in silence for a few seconds.. “How do you start this kind of conversation?”, she wondered. Her hesitation caused Toto to look concerned.

— Cassie, is there something wrong? Did something show up on your blood test?

— I think you'd better sit down — she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow.

— Cassie, I'm not going to do anything until you tell me what’s wrong. Please, tell me.

The words got stuck in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears. Even before the first tear could run down her cheek, Toto got close to her, cradling her face gently in his hands.

— Cassandra, if you don't tell me, I won't know how to help you.

— Toto — she sniffed, placing one of her hands over his. 

— Come on, my angel, tell me.

She looked at him. Hearing him call her “my angel” sent a tingle down her spine, but it gave her the resolve to finally speak.

— There was… A change in the hormone levels on my blood test.

— What kind of change?

— The level of a hormone called ‘hCG’ is… Elevated — she whispered.

Toto blinked.

— Is that serious?

— Well, it depends.

— Depends on… What?

— How serious is a child for you?

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. Toto’s face became puzzled.

— What?

— I'm pregnant — she finally managed to say. Tears were falling down her face in earnest now — We're having a baby.

After a few seconds, Toto cracked a smile. Not just any smile, a wide smile, the kind that went all the way to his eyes and caused the top of his nose to crinkle. His eyes were shining with tears too, but he could only laugh. Removing his hands from her face, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into a hug, spinning with Cassie in the middle of the room, their laughter echoing through the apartment.

— We're going to have a baby — Toto repeated as she held onto his neck, laughing and crying at the same time. She had never felt so happy in her life, not even with her professional achievements. And that realization was, at the same time, incredible and frightening.

Suddenly, he stopped, setting Cassie on the ground.

— Fuck, you shouldn't have done that, right? — he asked, in a slightly worried tone. — Did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby?

Cassie laughed.

— No, I'm fine. And considering the baby is the size of a poppy seed, I don't think it cares too much at this point.

— But how? When? The first cycle failed — he stopped for a few seconds.

— Yes, the IVF failed, but, uh… The other method did not.

He blinked.

— We hit the jackpot — Cassie smirked, placing a hand on her stomach.

Looking down at her hand, Toto was silent. It was like he was trying to take everything in, trying to convince himself that it was real. 

He was trying to convince himself that he was going to be a father.

— Fuck — he muttered.

— Don't talk like that in front of our child.

— Sorry.

— It’s okay — she whispered, with a smile on her face.

After a few more seconds

— Can I talk to her? — he asked quietly.

— To the baby? — Cassie asked. She was a little confused.

— Yeah.

— Of course — she replied — It's your child too.

Taking her hand, Toto walked over to the couch and sat down, positioning Cassie between his knees. Then, he took his hands to the shirt she was wearing and lifted it a little, enough so that her navel showed, just above the line of the shorts she was wearing. There weren't any signs that could suggest a pregnancy yet, but Cassie started crying again anyway. Then he looked up at Cassie, as if he was considering a question he would ask.

— Toto?

— Can I speak German with her? I want to… Express myself properly.

— You can talk to her in whatever language you’d like. Even in Tengwar, for all I care.

He smiled again.

— That’s from Lord of the Rings, right? I don’t speak that, but I can learn. I'm good with languages.

— I know, mister polyglot — Cassie chuckled, rolling her eyes a little.

Turning his eyes to her belly, he took a deep breath.

— Hallo Tochter. Oder Sohn, aber ich bin sicher, du bist ein kleines Mädchen. Dein Vater spricht. Ich bin so froh, dass du endlich auf dem Weg bist. Du hast keine Ahnung, wie oft ich von dir geträumt habe. Mit dir und deiner Mutter. Du wachst neben mir auf, machst gemeinsam Frühstück, spielst auf unserem Rasen. Und jetzt, du bist hier, bei uns. Na ja, nicht gerade bei uns, denn du hast noch etwas Zeit im Bauch deiner Mutter, aber du bist in gewisser Weise hier.

Cassie was a little embarrassed that she only knew two modern languages, unlike Toto, who spoke five fluently, with only a slight accent. She had taken French lessons during her school years, but she hadn't actually retained much of it. In college, she learned modern and ancient Greek as well as Latin, which was of little use in the marketing world.

However, maybe it was better that Cassie couldn’t understand German. Toto was speaking to their child in his mother tongue, in the way he felt most comfortable. It was like seeing him for real, freed from the filters that other languages put on his words.

— Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich kennenzulernen, Tochter. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich in meinen Armen zu halten und in deine Augen zu sehen, die wahrscheinlich der schönste Braunton der Welt sein werden. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, Küsse auf deinen Kopf zu pflanzen, der mit roten Strähnen bedeckt ist, wie der deiner Mutter. Du wirst so schön sein wie deine Mutter, da bin ich mir sicher. Und ich werde genauso verrückt nach dir sein, wie ich verrückt nach ihr bin.

Cassie thought she could puzzle out a few of the words he was saying, just because they sounded similar to words in English, like ‘tochter’, which sounded like ‘daughter’, and ‘sohn’, which had to mean ‘son’. She also recognized the word ‘mutter’, which she assumed was ‘mother’, which made her think maybe he was mentioning her, but that was the extent of what she could understand.

— Ich werde immer für dich da sein, meine Tochter. Für dich und deine Mutter. Ich liebe dich, Tochter, ich liebe dich, und ich liebe deine Mutter. Ihr beide seid mir das Wichtigste auf der Welt. Die einzigen Dinge, die zählen — Toto spoke softly, resting his head on her stomach. Cassie then brought her hands to his head, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.

— Thank you — she murmured.

He looked up, a little startled.

— For what?

— For keeping your promise.

Toto smiled as he stood up, embracing Cassie in a warm hug. He looked down at her with a fond look on his face.

— I will always keep my promises to you, Cassandra. Always.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Bezzle excerpt (Part VI)

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

It's launch-week for my new novel The Bezzle, a high-tech, revenge-soaked crime thriller in which my intrepid forensic accountant Martin Hench must pit his wits against unbelievably evil (and sadly true-to-life) prison-tech grifters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

As part of the launch, I'm serializing part of Chapter 14, a side-plot about music royalty theft and the (again, sadly true-to-life) corruption of the LA Sheriffs Deputies, who are organized into criminal gangs that murder, run drugs and intimidate with impunity:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/deputy-gangs-cancer-los-angeles-county-sheriffs-department-scathing-re-rcna73367

Today marks the sixth and final installment of the serial, but you can hear me read more of the book. Just show up at one of the stops on my book tour! Tomorrow (Feb 24) in LA, I'm appearing on Saturday evening with AdamC onover at Vroman's:

https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Cory-Doctorow-discusses-The-Bezzle<

And then on Monday I'll be in Seattle at Third Place Books with Neal Stephenson:

https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/event/cory-doctorow

From there, I'm off to Portland, Phoenix, Tucson and points further:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

Here's part one of the serial:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

Part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#copyright-termination

Part three:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#lawyer-up

Part four:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#poacher-turned-keeper

Part five:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab

And now, the thrilling conclusion!

Benedetto was outraged by my face and swore he’d sue the Sheriff’s Department on my behalf. He got even angrier when I got stopped again, the following week, as I was leaving my concussion checkup at the Kaiser hospital on Sunset by a sheriff’s deputy who had me pull over in front of the big Scientology building. This deputy was a little bantam rooster of a fellow, with a shiny bald head and mirror shades and no neck. He strutted up to my car, got me out of it, ran my ID, and frisked me. “Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?” he said. He had that cop knack for making “sir” sound like “motherfucker.”

“No, sir,” I said, trying it out myself.

He didn’t like that and leaned in close enough for me to smell his aftershave and the scented sunscreen on his bare scalp.

“I stopped you, sir, because you were using your phone while driving.”

I must have looked surprised.

“I personally saw you tapping at your phone screen. That is a misdemeanor, sir. Reckless driving.”

He stopped as if waiting for me to respond. I made myself go mild. “Sir, I did not use my phone.”

He was waiting for that. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. “Are you telling me I didn’t see what I saw?”

Mild, Marty, mild. “I don’t know what you saw, sir, but I didn’t use my phone.”

He rocked back and tilted his head. Patients went by with crutches and walkers. Nurses and doctors passed in scrubs. Scientologists scurried in and out of their gigantic temple. A fruit cart man labored past us.

“Well, sir, this should be simple enough to resolve.” He reached for his belt and pulled out a generic ruggedized cop-­rectangle of gear, and unspooled a multiheaded cable from its side. He leaned into the rental and retrieved my phone, and squinted at its I/O port, then attached the cable to my phone. The rugged rectangle beeped. “I’m gathering forensics on your mobile device, sir,” he said.

I’d figured that out already. My phone—­like yours and ­everyone else’s—­was a trove of my most intimate information, a record of all the places I’d been and people I’d spoken to and all the things I’d said to them. It was full of photos and passwords and client files and voice memos. It was more information than any judge would have granted a warrant for on a reckless-­driving rap.

The little man smirked as he held my phone and his gadget. I stayed mild as milk. I was running full-­device encryption. I’m no computer security expert, but I spend a lot of time around them, and they’d been insistent on this point, and had made reference to this very scenario in describing why I would bother to dig around my phone’s settings to turn this on.

God, my face hurt. I didn’t know how long the gadget was supposed to take, but from the cop’s increasing impatience, I could tell it was going long.

Beep. The cop shaded the gadget’s little screen from the punishing LA sun with one hand and peered at it.

“Sir, I need you to unlock this device, please.”

My face hurt. Be mild, Marty. “I invoke my right to counsel,” I said.

He pursed his lips. “Sir, if you would please enter your unlock code, we can verify whether your device is in use and we can both be on our way.”

“I invoke my right to remain silent.” I said it straight into his bodycam.

He sighed and looked irritated. I had known Benedetto for so long that I had once had to dial his number from a landline. I’d long ago memorized his office’s number, 1–­800-­LAWER4U. He’d bought it early, back before 800 numbers got expensive, and he’d had plenty of offers for it. He’d kept it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/23/gazeteer/#fin

[kholden83]

So, I spend Easter weekend dying of pneumonia (exaggeration), and thus missed a bunch of family who were in town very briefly, and also just all the fun.

It was also the weekend I should have picked my medication packaging, but, well, I was too sick for that too. My new fortnight of packaging was supposed to start on Monday, and all the people I'd consider asking to fetch them were busy with the fun, and I got kinda RSD at nobody seeming to miss me. So I didn't have Monday's pills to take, and I started feeling withdrawal symptoms for my antidepressant on Monday night. FUN (sarcasm). That was also when my chest cold decided it was time to be a head cold too, and my sinuses just solidified. Nothing was getting through my nose between 11pm and like 3am

Thankfully, this morning (tuesday) I remembered that I'd forgotten one morning's worth of pills when I was visiting Dad in January, dug those out of the take-back-to-the-chemist-eventually pile, and took them, and about lunch time that plus my somewhat-improved respiratory condition let me finally go retrieve stuff. I usually visit both Coles and Aldi on pill retrieval weekend, but I just did Coles because I am still unwell. Also I usually go with my sister in her car, not by myself with my motorscooter, so I did have to be mindful of cargo space.

Oh, and it was termite inspection morning, which my landlord forgot (?) to tell me about Yet Again. Thankfully one of my neighbours had mentioned it, so I had at least put on a nightie when I got up.

[n0t-1nt3r3st1ng]

Vulture!Wednesday AU Part 3

There are a few days before the clubs officially start, so Wednesday's afternoon's are free for the moment.

It seems the radio hierarchy has already been decided. It doesn't matter to her. Her original plan was to take a 'reporter' role as to have an excuse to roam unbothered. This wouldn't need to change.But that was the future, for now, she had to assemble her hangar back at home.

Lurch had already left her tools on her doorstep by the time she made it back. His family hadn't been able to stay any longer, not with Lurch's warrant still active in the state.

They or more accurately her father, had left her a final gift back at home. Parked on the driveway, a black Jaguar E-Type with the keys in the ignition. Her father knew she liked it as it belonged to the fictional master criminal known as Diabolik. One of her few friends and former flame, Joel Glicker who had tried and failed to find common interests during the small time they've been together. In the end they had parted their ways but this had been his biggest success.

Wednesday examined the car, found it adequate for her needs and headed inside. Then she stopped. 

Mixed in the air was a scent she knew all too well. She stood still, waiting. One moment, two. Then the faint sound of tapping over the wooden planks sounded in the next room. 

She stepped inside cautiously, her eyes examining the broken furniture, the thick layer of dust covering the floor. All except a few small tracks leading to a ripped, worned down, leather chair. She approached without making a sound before shoving her hand deep inside. After a moment of struggle, she retrieved her hand along with another appendage.

"Hello, Thing." She greeted the newcomer with a satisfied smile.

The hand tried to release itself from her grip but she grabbed it with both hands and held it high.

"Did you really think my highly trained olfactory sense wouldn't pick up on the faint whiff of neroli and bergamot in your favorite hand lotion? She asked while carrying him over to the boxes at the entrance. The hand struggled, her grip tightened. "I can do this all day."

She slammed her hand on one of the boxes and held it, pinning it. Thing could do nothing but to shake in fear.

"Surrender?" Wednesday asked. Thing tapped out. She released him

"Mother and Father sent you to spy on me, didn't they?" Wednesday asked. Thing signaled 'No'. She took a deep breath. "I don't have the time to waste. The power isn't connected yet. I offer you this, pledge your undying loyalty to me. If you don't, I'll lock you inside one of the boxes and throw you into the sea. I trust I don't have to tell you what the sea water will do to your nails and smooth, supple skin."

She stared at the hand for a moment. Thing prostrated himself before her.

"Good." Wednesday smiled. "Now grab the toolbox, if we hurry we might finish rewiring the house by midnight."

The work took them over a week, finishing only thanks to Lurch's help over the weekend. Now that her home met her standards, Wednesday arrived Monday morning ready to continue her cover. Especially since today she'd enter, or more accurately, request admission to the radio club.

Nevermore Academy had originally been housed in a large, gothic-style castle, surrounded by dark forests and mountains. Thanks to the expansion of the city, multiple additions to the structure as well as nearby properties had been made for special clubs or classes. The radio club was located on one of the towers facing the ever growing city. Unlike the other towers, this one had a flat roof where one could see tall antennas stretching skyward.

Wednesday stopped before the door, checked her uniform for any wrinkles and knocked on the door.No response but she could hear people speaking inside the room. She knocked again.

The door opened and a tall, caucasian boy stared at her with olive eyes. He wore the Nevermore outfit, the exception being a school-colored hoodie underneath his blazer.

"Hey." He greeted her with a smile he must've thought was charming.

"I'm here for the radio club." Wednesday replied, trying not to roll her eyes at him.

There was a loud noise, followed by shouting and an argument. The boy looked behind him before turning back to Wednesday.

"Listen, it's not the best time, but if you give me your number I'll be sure to call you the second ." The boy gave her a playful gaze but was cut off by a slamming sound. He turned around, shouting and dashed inside.

Wednesday was alone at the doorstep, thinking this might not have been a good idea after all. She entered the room and looked around. It was the first floor of the tower and there wasn't much to look at. The floor seemed unoccupied except for a few cables that went from the roof to a power outlet on the wall and a set of stairs to the second floor. According to her parents, the towers had three floors each and she was starting to get curious about how they managed to arrange the others.

The sound of heavy steps caught her attention. 

Another boy, one smaller and thinner than the one who greeted her came down. He had brown eyes and short brown hair that he wore with a side part. Over his face rested a pair of brown and gold-patterned glasses. His uniform looked pristine.

The boy rushed down the stairs but stopped on his tracks when he noticed Wednesday. Despite his impeccably dressed attire, his face appeared disheveled, bearing an unhinged expression. There was also something in his eyes when he saw Wednesday. A mix of shock, anger and ... recognition? Which was a surprise for Wednesday who was sure she had never met him in her life.

"Rowan, wait!" The voice from the first boy sounded from upstairs broke the tension and the boy, Rowan, exited the room in a hurry.

The first boy descended the stairs two steps at the time but wasn't fast enough. He ran after Rowan, leaving Wednesday alone.

No, not alone, Wednesday realized. Rowan, for whatever reason, had been arguing with someone upstairs. Wednesday could only hope while she walked upstairs, that whoever they were, they were the sensible ones.

The second floor looked like an actual reception. There was a large sofa against one of the walls, chairs and a table. One of the other walls had a small library with vinyl records while its opposite was filled with posters promoting upcoming shows or town activities. Wednesday saw it was empty and moved upwards, where the heart of the radio station should be. 

At the top of the stairs, a corridor stretched out, lined with closed doors bearing signs indicating a studio, control rooms, and one open door. There was the sound of brushing paper coming from it. Wednesday headed towards it and found a fluffy mass of black hair and brown eyes staring at her.

Said eyes and hair belonged to a young brown skinned boy. He too wore the Nevermore uniform with the blazer unbuttoned and the sweater vest showing. He also had a pair of black glasses. The boy was picking up a large amount of paper sheets from the floor.

"Can I help you?" The boy finally spoke. His voice was shaky and nervous.

"I'm here for the radio club." Wednesday said for the second time that evening. "I wanted to apply."

The boy's face illuminated after hearing her and rushed to stand up and offer her his hand. Such display of coordination was too much for him and he ended up tripping and landed on his knees.

Wanting to make a good impression, Wednesday offered him a hand which the boy took.

"Thanks." The boy said, adjusting his glasses. "I'm Eugene. Eugene Ottinger, I guess you could say I'm the president of the radio club."

"Wednesday. Wednesday Addams." Wednesday replied. If this is the president, she thought, she'd be running the club by the end of the day.

"Sorry for the mess." Eugene gestured at the floor. "There was a little accident."

"Yes, Rowan. I saw him on my way up." Wednesday replied without caring.

"Oh." Eugene said, ashamed. "Yeah, we had a little disagreement."

"From where I was standing all I could hear was him screaming. I assume he's also the one responsible for all of this?" Wednesday gestured at the floor. Eugene gave her an uncomfortable nod. "It seemed to me it was less of an argument and more of a meltdown."

"It's not his fault. Rowan is a psychic, using his powers gets him stressed." Eugene defended the other boy.

"If he's not capable enough to handle the backlash of his abilities then he shouldn't use them. I see no reason for him to take his frustration with you. You aren't a stress ball." Wednesday was repeating almost word for word an article she had read the first time she had been assigned mandatory therapy. She had cursed her flawless memory for retaining such useless information at the time. Who'd have known it would be useful one day? It almost made her regret filling the doctor's office with spiders. Almost.The words seemed to have worked better than expected. Eugene gave her a bright smile and his posture changed. He was relaxed with Wednesday. An error most people only committed once.

"Thanks." He said, the smile never leaving his face.

"Would you like some help?" Wednesday asked.

Eugene looked at her confused before remembering the papers still on the floor. They picked it up and Eugene thanked her once she handed her share. They stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

"So, about joining?" Wednesday asks, breaking the uncomfortable spell.

"Oh, right. Uhm, we don't really have too many openings?" He said with a guilty tone. "The school and the city might be bigger but many normies still don't trust us. There's not much we can do or places they allow us. The radio club, I mean, it's not like segregation. Not that I'm-"

"I understand." Wednesday cut him off before he'd start rumbling.

"Look, honestly? I'm doing this for the bees." Eugene said.

Wednesday tilted her head in confusion.

"It's better if I show you." Eugene said and guided her to the end of the corridor. 

Against the wall was a small ladder leading up to a roof hatch. Wednesday followed up Eugene to the roof of the tower. The roof, made of sturdy rock, extended seamlessly from the tower. Its surface, weathered by the elements, bore the marks of countless footsteps and drag marks from the equipment.

Upon the roof, a cluster of sleek antennas reached towards the sky, their metallic frames intertwined like a web of connectivity. Intertwined with the antennas were carefully placed beehives, creating a harmonious coexistence between technology and nature.

The beehives were full of little bees which jumped to Eugene the moment he set foot in the room. He laughed and the swarm began flying in circles around them.

"It's fine, they won't hurt you." Eugene assured her.

"Pity, I've always found their sting to be quite pleasant." Wednesday replied. "But why are there here?"

"Because of that." Eugene replied pointing away. The view of the city from the tower let them see just how big it was getting. The city now stretched from the sea to a nearby lake and bordered the forest. Six skyscrapers could be seen, all in different states of construction and other high-rise buildings stretched to the sky. "The whole city is a project from one construction firm, you know? They first renovated the buildings, then expanded and made new houses."

"You're from here?" Wednesday asked.

"Next town over." Eugene replied. "But that was before. When Needler Development, that's what the construction firm is called, started to make the town, they offered the new houses to the people in my town at a discount. My moms saw what was coming and picked one in the lots further away but then construction went into overdrive. Our house is in the suburbs now. They started cutting down the forest, it didn't matter to them how many animals they displaced."

"Or how many beehives they destroyed." Wednesday said.

"Exactly." Eugene nodded. "And it's not like their population was strong to begin with. There's this new disease among the bees, nobody knows where it came from. Decimated entire communities. my mums tried to get them to stop, showed them environmental impacts. Nothing. No answer or maybe a 'we'll look into it'."

"Yet the expansion seems to have stopped."

"That's because some of the houses they built weren't up to code." Eugene replied. "There were a few accidents, a few cave-ins. They decided to stop and build upward, I guess."

"It doesn't explain what it has to do with the radio club." Wednesday said.

"The school lets me keep them here for as long as there's a club. It's my power. I've been trying to rebuild their numbers but not many people are interested. Do you know what'll happen if enough bees die?"

"The ecosystem fails at a basic level, a ripple effect that could end life as we know it." Wednesday replied.

"I think you're the first person who put it that way." Eugene replied.

"There's no way to 'put it'. That's the way it is."

"Well, Weems had closed the newspaper when I first came here. My mum, Janet, not my other mum, had been talking about the radio stations. I thought, why not? I knew Rowan, he's smart. He knew Xavier - he's the one who opened the door. It wasn't much at the beginning but it just kinda grew? Then came Bianca..."

"But all you really care about is the beehives." Wednesday finished.

"I know it sounds bad and I told the others about it..."

"If they still wish to remain after you tell them your objectives, then your goals aren't as bad as you might think." Wednesday replied.

"So, even though I don't know if there's something for you to do, you still want in?" Eugene asked.

"Of course." Wednesday replied and she extended her hand.

"Then welcome to BuzzRadio, Wednesday Addams." Eugine replied, shaking her hand.

"It's an honor." Wednesday replied.

Perhaps she wouldn't have to take over after all, Wednesday though.

[oldguy56-world]

The Way We Were

The older I get the more I like when things stay the same. When I was young (oh so long ago) I could roll with the punches and adapt to whatever came my way. Now I have rolls and am very punchy with neither of those being good. Perhaps you can stand the little things I find irksome but really I can't. I tried writing a letter to the 'Why the hell are there so many changes' department of the federal government but it was returned to me with I believe a tracking device embedded somewhere in the envelope. Not to worry. I put it in the trunk of a friend's car and because he never cleans it the envelope will stay there forever (or until he gets a new car) so the government can keep tabs on him instead of me.

I like the way things were, and sometimes are, but it is the constant changes that are hard to deal with.

Here are the things that bug me, really bug me, that cause a change in my daily routine.

The Hydro goes out. No matter what time of day this happens it interrupts my TV time and forces me to do...What? I have nothing else to do except on Mondays when I write. The rest of the week is down time to give my wrists time to heal. I can barely handle the remote but I cope. And don't get me started on having to reset things like my printer that seems to want to reprint old letters for some reason.

Cable out. You might think that this is the same as above but have you noticed that when the power is out and comes back on everything is ready to go except cable. This takes much longer for some reason.

Have you ever tried to go into your email or pay a bill and randomly you are asked to identify yourself? The gods of the internet can see I am using the same laptop as always and I am sure they also can see through my camera and know it is me. I would give them the finger but I suspect I would never be able to access anything ever again.

A few months ago my favorite pen rolled under the bookcase near my desk. It is still there as I am positive I would throw out my back retrieving it. When I was young I would have lifted the bookcase with one hand and picked up the pen with the other.

The first time I visited my hometown I tried to see some friends. It is a simple place to get around or should I say was a simple place to get around. Streets had disappeared, some were now dead ends, favorite restaurants now offered tattooing, and many other magnificent changes. Because of these things I left and went back to where i live now. My friends have no idea how close they came to a visit from me.

Why are there so many phone updates? Every time there is one I lose the ability to access one of the rare apps I have on my Apple 2. I can still phone or text but that is about it. There was nothing wrong with this phone when I got it so please leave it alone.

I hate smart TV's. There I said it. I used to enjoy sitting down and watching something uninterrupted (unless the power or cable went out) but now, in the middle of a show, my 'Smart TV' believes this is the best time to reboot itself. If it was really smart it would recognize it is getting close to being tossed from our balcony.

Finally, stop discontinuing foods I like. At my age putting out things with less sugar, no msg, gluten free, or anything else supposedly healthy is just a shock to my system.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: All the data shows that the largest growing segment of the population is seniors. Someone in marketing should smarten up and start listening to us.

[emerysaks]

Chapter 3 - A Little Help From Their Friend

Note: sorry these last five are down to the wire. December was rather unkind to my family with several bouts of sickness and my grandmother being hospitalized for a stroke the week before Christmas. She is doing better, but the majority of my time has been spent at doctors' offices and the hospital this month.

<i>one final glance at the nearby doorway, Jarvis activated the countdown and quickly made his way back to the elevator. He grabbed his umbrella from the door and focused his attention on his watch as the car descended. The secondhand ticked by 11 when he stepped out of the car, and 10 seconds later, as the building door clicked shut behind him on 12, the lights in the building flickered ominously, and then the building plunged into darkness.</i>

Peggy was at the desk in the study when every light in the room flickered off, and the room was plunged into darkness. A faint hint of daylight streamed into the room through the windows, but she knew that would soon be gone as night fell. A narrow beam of yellow light filled the room, and Peggy headed for the front hallway. She felt along the wall to her desk, retrieved the torch she always kept for emergencies, and clicked it on. 

Angie’s voice floated down from the upstairs balcony. “Peggy, all of the lights are out up here!”

“Yes, I can see that,” Peggy said with a dry laugh. “I’m going to check and see if it’s merely us or the entire building is out. Stay put until I can bring you a torch.”

There was a pause, and then, “Do you think an open flame is safe?”

Peggy sighed. “A light, Angie.”

“A flashlight?”

“Yes.”

“Well, speak English, English!”

Peggy rolled her eyes and opened the front door to complete darkness. 

Well, that answered that question.

“Is it the whole building?” Angie called.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Peggy said and closed the door. “Stay put. I’ll come to you.” She swung the light around and bit back a scream. Angie stood before her with a small torch in her hand.

“Found a flashlight in the bathroom,” she said. 

Peggy placed a hand over her thudding heart and nodded. “So I see.”

“Should we go downstairs?” Angie asked. 

“It’s a Saturday. I rather doubt any offices are open, especially in this weather.”

“I didn’t think about that. So it’s just us?”

“So it would seem.” Peggy walked back to the study as Angie trailed close behind. Locating the phone, she lifted the handset to her ear. “Fortunately, the phone line appears to be working.” She dialed a number on the rotary and waited for the call to go through. 

“Howard, it’s Peggy. The building has lost power.” She tilted her head. “Yes, of course. I checked the hallway.” She peered out the window and watched as fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky. The wind began to howl against the glass panes. 

“No, no, sending Jarvis won’t be necessary. I’d hate for him to get stuck in this. We have candles, food, and firewood. I’ve survived far worse on much less.” A pause. “Yes, of course, you were there. As if I could forget. But do call an electrician to come out once this passes. I realize we’re the only inhabitants in the building right now. Still, I’m certain your other tenants will want power come Monday.” She paused again. “I do appreciate your concern, Howard, but we will manage. Yes. You stay safe, too. Goodbye.”

Peggy turned to Angie. “Howard is going to call an electrician, but he doubts anyone will respond in this weather.”

“So we’re stuck like this for a while, huh?” Angie sighed. 

“So it would seem,” Peggy replied. “Let’s gather some more torches and candles. Then, we can move into the study and light the fireplace.”

Angie snickered. “You grab the torches, Peg. I’ll get the flashlights.”

Peggy rolled her eyes as she left the room. 

[ravensilversea]

To Listen is to Love

Author: Raven Silversea

Rating: G

Pairing: Viper/Verde

Prompt: Storm Day: Mistaken Identity AU | Courting

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, they're graduate students specifically, Established Relationship, Nonbinary Mammon | Viper, aquarium date

It took ages to get everything together. Talking with their boss to get the day off, talking to Verde’s professors to make sure he has the day off from any labs or under-graduate lecture halls, double and triple checking Verde’s class schedule to make sure it didn’t magically change to having a class that day despite it being the same Monday/Tuesday/Thursday schedule it’s been all semester. The amount of side-eye Viper’s gotten from their boyfriend the past week or so could fill a pool.

Everything’s set though. Viper even has the tickets printed out, placed in a green folder, and in their messenger bag hanging by the door already. All that’s left is… waking Verde up.

Verde, once again, was sleeping slumped over on his desk. His laptop open and long since gone to sleep. Empty coffee cups are tipped over onto pages of calculations. His glasses askew, and his face is stuck on the pages of his physics textbook. 

Viper picks up the pencil on the floor and places it back in the overflowing pen cup. Tapping the center of Verde’s shoulders, they lean down and whisper, “Myu, I’m going to eat your cake and leave nothing for you.”

Viper backs up with a laugh as Verde jolts up into a stretch. “You won’t,” he yawns. “It would be a waste of both time and money to get or bake a cake specifically for my birthday and then eat it by yourself.”

“Myu,” Viper tips their head, considering. “Would not. I’d still get cake out of it.”

Verde snorts but gets up, running a hand down his wrinkled button-up. “Anything I must know?” he asks. 

“Dress comfortable,” Viper shrugs. “Myu, Indoor walking shoes. Doesn’t really matter.” They gesture at their jeans and over-sized hoodie. 

“Your usual and my usual are not the same, but I understand your point.” Verde squeezes Viper’s wrist as he passes by. 

Ao3

When Verde comes out of the shower twenty minutes later wearing his usual khaki pants and button-down shirt, Viper’s waiting with a breakfast burrito and a travel cup of coffee for him. Verde takes both with a smile, his sleeve riding up enough for Viper to glimpse the rainbow watch band they had made for him.

They busy themselves with checking the location of everything in their messenger bag, but Verde’s quiet chuckle says that he saw their blush anyway.

Verde, tactfully, doesn't flip through Viper's messenger bag which spends the drive sitting at his feet. They do catch his fingers drumming on his thigh out of the corner of their eye. "Thank you," they say.

Verde hums. "Illogical. You've clearly gone to lengths to make this excursion a surprise."

Viper huffs. They take the next left and spares a glance at the battered GPS. "Myu. Like that's stopped you before." They're not actually bothered by Verde's habit of digging through their bag, just like Verde simply rolls his eyes when they uncover his class schedule before he prints it out. None of this negates the fact that they appreciate Verde's restraint despite the fact they didn't explicitly request it, which is the agreed upon boundary for both of them.

"We're almost there."

Verde makes an interested noise and straightens in his seat, flipping his phone face down on his khakis and looking out the window. Viper smirks and shakes their head. He's undoubtedly trying to figure out where they are and guess their destination.

When they pull into the aquarium’s parking lot, Verde looks almost ready to bolt out of the car before the engine’s even off. Viper reaches over the center console and retrieves their bag before getting out themselves. “Myu. Shall we go in?” they ask, tugging their hood down.

Verde snorts and loosely grabs Viper’s wrist, tugging them towards the entrance.

Sometimes Viper wonders why Verde decided to double major in chemistry and physics instead of going for marine biology when he clearly loves marine animals so much. They spend much of the day at the aquarium playing eager listener as Verde rambles on about clown fish and the theories about why they can survive sea anemone poison.

“The mucus coating of clown fish may be sugar-based and so the anemones simply fail to recognize them as food. However, it could also be a coevolution of the two that simply allowed the clown fish to develop an immunity.” Verde pushes his glasses higher up his nose before his hands starting to move in box-like shapes again. “It is all really quite fascinating.”

It’s only long-time exposure and frequent Google searches that allows Viper to keep up with the semi-scientific lectures, but they find it all worth it to watch Verde’s green eyes light up and a small, soft smile to appear on his face. The aquarium staff’s eyes light up just as much whenever Verde asks about specific animals and projects they’re working on. Verde spends almost an hour leaning on a glass information counter near the coral tanks just talking with a staffer about the aquarium’s efforts in revitalizing coral reefs.

“Hippocampus hippocampus, or the short-snouted seahorse,” Verde says, pointing at a tank filled with brown seahorses clinging to their tall, leafy seaweed. “It is found primarily in the Mediterranean and North Atlantic, specifically around Italy and the Canary Islands.” Viper leans into his side, and Verde pauses. He wraps an arm around them and continues with his lecture, hands waving all the way. Huffing a quiet laugh, Viper watches two seahorses cash each other through the seaweed forest. 

It’s when Verde quiets in the tunneled pathway with sharks and fish swimming all around them- apparently nurse sharks can be found in reefs and rocky areas which lead to further discussion about the importance of coral reefs- that Viper wraps a gentle hand around his wrist. Verde immediately looks away from the shark swimming above them and to Viper. “Myu, was this good?” they ask.

Verde smiles. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a small sheet of multicolored star stickers. He peels a gold one off the sheet and places it on Viper’s cheek without ever breaking their grip. “It was perfect,” he says and kisses the star. Viper flushes, pulling their hood down with their free hand. 

[jasonbehrs]

🎭 wear your heart where i can see 🎭

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

a dbsk fanfic about falling in love on a trial run

“But you’re a dude!”

“That will continue to be true for every lesson in the curriculum, so I suggest you get over that quickly.”

ship: yunjae chapters: 3/10 word count: 3.5k+ rating: T+ for cursing

read it on ffnet, aff, ao3, or below!

~~~

On Tuesday morning, Yunho walks into school with a lot less trepidation than he had the day before, but he still keeps his head on a swivel. Just because he didn't happen to see the Jaejoong guy yesterday doesn't mean it might not still happen today, and he needs to remain vigilant if he wants to avoid that weirdness at all costs.

Last week had been normal enough. He had a quiz on Monday, Sooyoung broke up with him on Tuesday, morning hapkido practise on Wednesday, Yuri asked him out on Thursday, and they had a date on Friday. Pretty typical week for him, girlfriend parts included. (Through no effort nor encouragement on his part, he often gets asked out by a new girl within a few days of the previous girlfriend breaking up with him. He doesn't question it.)

The weirdness commenced immediately afterwards. He longs for the return to his previous cycle of studying, hapkido practise, and making time to hang out with his friends; but a strange classmate he had never met before just had to insult him and insist on a very suspicious, slipshod plan to address perceived personality flaws he isn't convinced he has.

An optimistic part of his heart believes if he can just make it through the week with nothing particularly noteworthy happening to him, that comforting routine will resume.

This illusion is shattered immediately after school when he finds Jaejoong inspecting his motorbike. He tampers down his dread and tries to remain optimistic about the impending interaction. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, what's the engine capacity on this thing?" the other student asks as he squeezes the handlebars and pokes around until he finds the horn. Yunho would rather he didn't, but he is willing to let Jaejoong play pretend with his ride if it means the conversation can remain normal.

"50 cc," he answers haltingly. "I can't drive anything more powerful than that until I can get my car license; that was the deal I made with my mom in order to get the bike." Jaejoong nods but doesn't say anything to that, instead flipping up the kickstand and settling into the seat. He makes grabby hands for the helmet in Yunho's grip, and Yunho watches him clumsily fit it over his head.

He faces Yunho and lifts up the shield. "Is that a lot?"

He knows staring is rude, but Yunho can't help it. "Why would you ask if you wouldn't know what the answer meant?"

Jaejoong shrugs. "I heard my dad say it once, and it seemed like the thing to say. I totally sounded like I knew what I was talking about, though, right?" He grins, waiting for Yunho to be impressed.

Yunho keeps him waiting. He is currently preoccupied by striving to make peace with the fact that if the other student was not here to talk about automobiles, he must be here for the other reason. The weird reason. He takes a deep breath. "Can I help you with something?" he tries again.

Jaejoong hops off the moped without properly setting down the kickstand, and Yunho rushes to right his tilting vehicle. "I'm here to help you, remember? I'm going to teach you how to date! We're starting today."

"I didn't agree to this." He wants to sound authoritatively disencouraging, but the slight whine under his words probably dampens the effect.

"Doesn't matter; I'm not doing this for you." Jaejoong gestures with his hand for Yunho to follow him, and Yunho tells himself he only does so so that he can retrieve the helmet still snug on the other's head.

Speaking of heads, something clicks in his. "Is this for Sooyoung? Are you trying to get me back together with her?"

"Oh my god, no," Jaejoong refutes immediately. "Even after I'm through with you, you will not be good enough for her."

Yunho elects not to debate that. "So why are you putting us through this?"

Jaejoong leads them around the perimeter of the school's campus until they reach the narrow alley between the auditorium and the gymnasium. There are cigarette butts and fast food wrappers littered on the ground, but the sun is still providing enough illumination so that the space doesn't feel cramped and grimey.

He flexes his torso to avoid collision when the other makes a sharp stop at the mouth of the alley and faces him. "I'm getting the sense you don't want to do this," Jaejoong starts rhetorically, "so why don't you just tell me 'no'?"

Yunho wants to stare into a fourth wall camera, mockumentary-television-style. "I did."

"Actually, you didn't," Jaejoong retorts pedagogically. He takes off Yunho's helmet and kneels to set it on a relatively unadorned square meter of concrete, continuing, "On Friday you denied needing any help at all; and just earlier you simply said you did not agree to my tutoring; yet here you are, standing in the Backstreet with me without even questioning where I was taking you."

Yunho stumbles a step back when Jaejoong springs up to look at him with peering eyes. "So I'll ask again: why don't you just tell me 'No, I'm not going to do this'?"

He opens his mouth, willing his larynx to utter that first syllable, to tell Jaejoong off for all the ways he's insulted him in their brief hours of acquaintance, to say anything—but nothing comes out.

Jaejoong pulls back with a decisive nod. "That's what I thought. Alright, first test! Ask me out on a date."

Now would be a great time to learn how to say 'no'. An incredulous "But you're a dude!" comes out instead.

He doesn't like the resulting smirk on Jaejoong's face. It makes him feel like he telegraphed his attack to his opponent, and all he can do is wait for the winning blow to strike him. "That will continue to be true for every lesson in the curriculum, so I suggest you get over that quickly."

Getting things over with quickly sounds like a great idea, actually. "Okay, fine. Would you like to go get Lotteria with me this afternoon?"

Jaejoong rolls his eyes so hard his neck and head go with it, and Yunho begins to understand there will be no speedrunning this game. "What was wrong with that?" he demands.

"I'm not even going to comment on your tone of voice because I know some girls like the whole tsundere shtick, but what the hell is up with you and Lotteria? Fast food chains are not first date material! I get that we're in high school; but even if that's all you can afford, you should at least take it to go and continue the date somewhere more romantic. There's a park literally five blocks from there."

Yunho's defensiveness lowers to make room for realization. He honestly never thought of that before.

Jaejoong facepalms. "I see I have my work cut out for me."

Yunho does not let himself be bothered by the statement. With his new understanding, he is eager to try again, but Jaejoong holds out a hand to stop him before he could open his mouth. "The moment passed. Try again when I'm not expecting it."

"You were expecting it earlier though…?" Yunho tries to point out, but Jaejoong shakes his head. "Yeah, but at least I didn't know what you were going to say or suggest we do. If you ask me again right now, where's the shock value? The anticipation?" He punctuates his argument with a satisfied smile that borders on condescending, and that's Yunho's last straw.

When Jaejoong moves to step around him and leave, Yunho sticks his arm out to his side to block him. The alley is narrow enough that his palm is almost flush with the brick of the building, and it only takes one step to crowd into Jaejoong's space and force him against the wall.

Their bodies aren't quite touching, but Jaejoong's surprised exhale still easily reaches the skin between Yunho's nose and lips. His perpetually teasing eyes seem deeper now, or maybe they just look that way because of how intently Yunho is looking into them.

"How's this for shock value?" His words are only loud enough for Jaejoong to hear him clearly, and his voice naturally goes gravelly from the low volume.

Jaejoong's eyes narrow back into amused slits. "You have my attention."

"Good. We should go on a date this afternoon. Grab some food, go somewhere. I know a place."

Jaejoong quirks an eyebrow, then his gaze breaks from Yunho's to study his arm, then his face, then the position they're in. If this is an intimidation tactic, Yunho refuses to budge.

Finally, he frowns in impressed approval. "This will do, Jung, but it won't work for a second date." He swipes Yunho's arm away with no further warning and smoothly ducks out of the new opening. It is only the reflexes honed from years of hapkido that save Yunho from losing his balance against the wall.

He turns to find Jaejoong picking up Yunho's helmet and propping it between his arm and his hip. "I hope you have some extra headgear because I plan on travelling by motorbike tonight."

Later, when he'll think of Jaejoong, the sight of him framed by the alley entrance, backlit by the high sun and taunting, will be the image his brain supplies for reference.

~~~

"... So I have him pinned; I'm centering myself, preparing to throw him; and when I crouch for extra leverage, crzrhszhrshzhrshhh!" Yunho mimes a ripping motion in the air. "My pants are literally split into two halves, right down the center seam."

He has to raise his voice to be heard over Jaejoong's boisterous laughter. "I still won the match, though."

"Oh my god, of course you did! You can't lose after showing the entire gymnasium your underwear!"

"It helps that red's my lucky colour."

"Got it. You wear red when you wanna get lucky." Jaejoong keeps his voice deadpan, but his eyebrows still waggle, and it's Yunho's turn to laugh.

The park that Jaejoong mentioned is one Yunho has been to plenty of times before, but he can't recall the most recent time he went. It's an awkwardly long and narrow stretch, having originally been zoned as a residential block before someone along the way decided that it should be greenspace in order to attract families to the neighbourhood. Most of the block is taken up by grass and trees except for a children's playground on one end and a paved, oblong walking path that more or less follows the perimeter of the block.

After picking up their food, they walked to the park and wordlessly agreed to take a few laps on the path. He finished and trashed his meal a while back, but Jaejoong still has his drink in one hand and a pouch of fries in the other.

"I gotta say," Jaejoong says after a while of companionable walking, "I was dreading this first date, but you're doing great so far."

"Thanks," Yunho says without gratitude.

"Seriously. Why weren't you this talkative last Friday?"

He frowns. He thought that had been one of his better first dates, the fact that Yuri didn't ask him out again notwithstanding. Unfortunately, however, he knows he has a habit of exactly what Jaejoong is describing, so he speaks generally.

"I don't know how to talk to girls, man. I get that the point of the first date is to discover whether we have anything in common, but all I do is hapkido and study. Girls get tired of those topics really quickly, and I never have anything else to talk about. It's easier to just let them say whatever they want and then react accordingly."

Jaejoong stops himself from taking another sip of his drink to respond, and the ice in his cup clinks loudly as he uses that hand to gesticulate. "No, no, no. Here's the thing: the stuff you're trying to find in common are not necessarily hobbies, though that's great too. What you're actually looking for are matches in personality. You can discover a little bit of that through the things people do to occupy their time, sure, but you discover a lot more in the way people talk about those things. The topic doesn't matter as much as the presentation. Like, just now, you were telling that story about your hapkido tournament. It wasn't fun because it was a funny thing to happen to you but because you had fun telling it! Treat all your conversations like that, and you'll never have an awkward date again."

That's all well and good, but, "It's different with you! I'm not trying to date you."

Jaejoong purposefully steps in front of Yunho and halts their walk. "As of today, you are, though. That's why we're here." He shakes his ice cup in Yunho's face for emphasis. "We're on a date."

Yunho forgot, honestly. Sometime between parking the moped and arriving at the park, he stopped feeling observed, and it just felt fun.

"Do we have to go on dates? Can't you just tell me all the things you think I need to know? You did a great job earlier, explaining the personality and presentation stuff."

The other frowns but takes a moment to think. Yunho hopes this means that the next time he and Jaejoong hang out, it will be a normal meetup.

By the way Jaejoong snaps his fingers a few seconds later, Yunho knows his hopes are dashed. "You've taken chemistry already, right?"

Ah. He lolls his head backwards in resigned understanding. "Okay, fine. You learn the theory, you conduct an experiment to observe the concepts in practise, and the results underscore the lesson. Fine, I get it. We go on dates."

His head snaps upright when Jaejoong rams his elbow into Yunho's arm. "You weren't supposed to say all that smart stuff!" the other complains.

"What?!"

"You were supposed to be like, 'Uh, yeah, why?' and then I'd be like, 'Well, it doesn't count because you've never taken chemistry taught by me~' and it was gonna be charming enough to convince you, but now I can't because it sounds dumb compared to your really good point!"

Jaejoong elbows him again, and Yunho lets him because it is so powerless and ineffectual. "Hitting me is not very charming."

"Everything I do is charming!" Jaejoong refutes, but he stops immediately. When Yunho resumes their walk, he follows along without raising his hand again except to facilitate the stubborn slurping of his remaining drink.

When they round the bend that would take them back to the park entrance closest to Lotteria, Yunho opens, "So, got any more nuggets of wisdom for me before our date wraps up, Prince Charming?" The sun isn't obviously setting, but the world does seem cast in more orange than it did a few hours ago when they left the school.

Jaejoong narrows his eyes at him. "You're teasing me, but joke's on you because I like that nickname. And yes: the advice I gave you before only applies while you're doing the talking, but there's nothing a girl likes less than being talked at instead of talked to… You can't just let her talk either, though. Ask her questions; be curious about her. Bonus: it'll hide the fact you've run out of things to say, since you're worried about that."

Yunho considers this. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I'm being curious about you. If you're so charming and you've amassed all this great dating knowledge, why aren't you dating anyone?"

Jaejoong straightens up. "Who says I'm not?"

"I highly doubt she'd be okay with you going on dates with me instead of her if she were real."

Jaejoong deflates. "He probably wouldn't be, you're right," he says with a wry smile.

Oh. "Yeah, okay, I see how that could pose some challenges."

The other student waves his hands and loses a fry for his troubles. "It's not a challenge. I haven't been looking, and I'm not just saying that so that I don't look pathetic in front of the guy who's had more girlfriends than I have pimples."

Yunho does a quick scan. "Your skin is clear."

"Thank you." Jaejoong bounds for a garbage can up ahead, and Yunho follows at a slower pace. "I'm the understudy for the lead in the spring musical, and I'm trying to get the lead in both productions for my final year. It involves a lot of hard work and kissing ass. I'm also an alternate for the badminton club and trying to keep my GPA above a 2.5. A boyfriend would just cut into my time."

"And this tutoring thing you're trying to do for me wouldn't?"

"Don't worry about my schedule," Jaejoong counters snippily, "This is all about you. Speaking of…"

They exit out of the park, and Yunho raises an eyebrow when Jaejoong doesn't follow him back towards where they parked. "Mini lesson: You should always take your date home, but don't worry about today. I'm gonna take the bus," he says with a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a bus stop Yunho knows is stationed down the block. "I have to run an errand for my mom."

Yunho nods in understanding and feels distantly grateful for the abrupt end to their time together. Walking his Jaejoong to his front door on their first date is a little bit too much for him.

He figures this is goodbye, but Jaejoong keeps talking. "You haven't asked me for my cellphone number yet, by the way."

"I was supposed to?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not just your dating tutor; I'm your pretend girlfriend! 'Observe the concepts in practise,' remember?"

This naturally begs the question, "Why aren't you my pretend boyfriend, then?"

"Is that what you want to be telling your hapkido friends when you explain to them why you can't hang out after school on date nights?" Jaejoong claps his hand to underscore his point. "'Concepts in practise,' hello!"

His brain unhelpfully reminds him that he didn't say 'no' to Jaejoong's question earlier in the Backstreet, and that is why he is having this inane conversation. Then he gets an idea. "Okay, well, if I'm practising…" He straightens, tries to affect a serious aura. By the other's raised eyebrows, he thinks it worked. "Jaejoong, I like you. Learning from you, that is. Can I be your practise boyfriend?"

Jaejoong doesn't say anything for a second, long enough for Yunho to actually feel really stupid about asking in the first place, but then he smiles. It's not tinged with ulterior motives or hinting at a teasing comment, but unrestrained and happy. It actually looks kind of good on him—until he forcibly suppresses it.

Yunho smirks. He hoped to fluster Jaejoong, but he still considers this a success. "This is the first time anyone's ever asked to be your boyfriend, isn't it?"

"No!" but it's rote and futile.

"I should find myself a more qualified dating tutor. Someone who's honest with me and has more experience."

"Good luck finding anyone with the patience." Jaejoong sneers and turns to walk to the bus stop, but Yunho rushes around to make Jaejoong face him. He smiles in conciliation. "If it makes you feel any better, it's also the first time I've asked to be someone's boyfriend."

Jaejoong purses his lips, but he doesn't avoid looking at him. Yunho grins. "Well, come on. Don't leave me hanging. What do you say?"

Like earlier, Jaejoong quirks an eyebrow before breaking his gaze from Yunho's to study him. Unlike earlier, Yunho doesn't feel like this is a test he can possibly fail.

"Yes," he finally says, and Yunho will question later why he is relieved by the syllable. "We're officially practise dating."

~~~

A/N (4.4.2023): I've introduced the ways Jaejoong and Yunho spend their free time, but I don't intend on exploring those much unless it directly concerns their emotional development. Just know that in the background, the spring musical and a hapkido tournament are imminent for the two. Thanks for reading this far!

[undercoveravenger]

Dilemmas

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Seth Clearwater x Male!Reader

Prompt: Seth Clearwater + “You’re about as scary as a golden retriever. You know that, right?”

A/N: This was the fourth prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The next piece will be posted on Monday, October 11th.

-----

Seth Clearwater was facing a dilemma.

He knew that most men in his position wouldn't be nearly as afraid, but then again, he was sure that any other man wouldn't have nearly as much to lose because they wouldn’t be losing you.

The two of you had known each other since you were children and had grown up together. You had always been his best friend, but in the first moment that he’d laid eyes on you after he shifted Seth realized that you were so much more than a friend to him. He eventually asked you out just before the end of sophomore year. You’d been dating for just over a year now and he loved you, and he knew that he would have even if you hadn’t been his imprint. That was the crux of his issue though; you were the love of his life, and he hadn’t yet been able to figure out how to tell you that you were his imprint, let alone that he was a werewolf.

Seth had been brainstorming all day while you were at a study group with some friends. He had considered doing one of those funny reveals that people did when they were expecting a baby, or sitting you down all intervention-style and telling you, or writing you a letter that explained everything that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say, but still hadn’t been able to come to a decision by the time he heard your car door slam outside.

That was probably why he ended up blurting out “I’m a werewolf!” when you opened the door.

You’d understandably been surprised by your boyfriend’s declaration, blinking owlishly as you processed what you’d just heard. You slowly set your backpack aside and moved to sit on the couch next to your boyfriend. “Do you mean that you’re going to be one for Halloween or in a video game?” you asked, trying to figure out how to proceed.

“Wha- No,” Seth said, brows furrowing at your reaction. “No. I mean, I meant to bring it up a little more tactfully, but I really am a werewolf.”

You laughed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before pushing yourself back to your feet. “Of course you are, babe,” you teased, turning and heading for the kitchen.

“I am!” he protested, following after you quickly, “I promise! If you want, we can go out into the backyard and I can prove it to you right now-”

You turned back to look at him, eyes narrowing as you studied him; examining him for any hint that he was just pulling yet another practical joke on you. When you came up empty, you found yourself sighing and a gentle smile crossing your lips, “Okay, I believe you.”

In all the times that Seth had thought about how this conversation would go, he had never expected for you to accept it so easily. “R-really?” he asked hopefully, smiling brightly as he realized how much you trusted him. “You believe me?”

“Of course,” you said easily, leaning back against the counter behind you as you watched him. “I’m just surprised you didn’t tell me earlier.”

Seth hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out exactly why he hadn’t been able to tell you sooner. “I was afraid that you would be scared of me,” he finally admitted. “I thought you would leave me because you deserve someone safe and normal and so much better than me.”

For an agonizing second you didn’t react and Seth thought he had shed just a little too much light into the darkest, most anxious parts of his mind and that you would realize just how much better you actually deserved than him, but then you took a step towards him and then another and another until you could cup his face in your hands and kiss him. It was a relatively short kiss, just long enough for you to show him just how much you loved him, and then you pulled away to look at him seriously, “Seth, I would never leave you; it’d be like leaving my heart behind.” You pressed a playful kiss to the tip of his nose, “You couldn’t scare me off anyway; you’re about as scary as a golden retriever. You know that, right?”

He let out an over dramatic gasp, acting like you’d offended him though even he couldn’t deny how hard he was smiling, “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that!” He grabbed you around the middle and wrestled you close, tickling at your sides with his free hand.

With your laughter echoing through the house and warmth filling his chest, Seth found it kind of silly that he’d ever doubted what your reaction would be. He knew that he would always be willing to do whatever it took to be with you; sometimes he just forgot that you felt the same way about him.

[dharma-divine]

Turning Page

For Liv xx

Summary: Stuck with a seemingly monotonous book as the subject for a final project, you quickly find that the prolific tale of two unlikely lovers is just what you need to pursue your romantic interest in your longtime classmate and beloved friend.

Pairing: Sam x (Female) Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,000

Warnings: 18+!!! Explicit sexual content

Notes: Thank you again @jakekiszska for helping me edit <3

“Ah, Mr. Kiszka,” your professor's booming voice echoes through the lecture hall, just as you hear the door behind you creaking open. “Nice of you to finally join us on this fine Monday morning.”

You’re seated front and center of the large classroom, so you have to fully turn around to see the piteous, wide-eyed boy standing in the entryway, the door closing behind him with a loud clammer.

“My apologies Dr. Howard,” Sam smiles meekly, his backpack slung over one of his shoulders. “I had some… car troubles.”

You glance up at the clock above him, reading that class started fifteen minutes ago.

The professor sighs, his mouth slanted in a frown.

“I’ll excuse it today,” he nods, motioning for Sam to sit in his usual spot, in the empty seat to your left. “But just this once.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam accepts graciously, his hands folding in gratitude before he shuffles through the aisle.

He sets his backpack on the floor with a quiet thud, slumping into the chair. You try to stifle an amused giggle at his grand entrance, and he shoots you a facetious glare.

You and Sam have been friends since freshman year, meeting at the orientation for your shared literacy majors. You immediately bonded over your love of music during one of those dumb icebreaker games, and you’ve been the perfect duo since, taking almost every class you can together.

While you’re both excellent writers, Sam certainly has more of an eye for lyricism; he has a minor in music studies, and he wants to be a songwriter someday, working now as an assistant writer at a studio downtown. With his talent, you know he will end up exactly where he wants to be in the industry, and you can’t wait to see what he makes of his career.

You have your own plans laid out for your future, and while they’re not as perfectly aligned as Sam’s, you’re satisfied with your ventures thus far. You occasionally TA for Dr. Howard, having earned his favoritism with your exceptional grades in his classes, and you help tutor high school students in your free time. Your passion for writing is undeniable, and you know you’re bound to end up in a job that fulfills you just as well as Sam’s.

Even with your irrefutable love for writing though, you don’t think you would be as devoted to your work as you are if it wasn't for him being by your side through nearly all of it.

“Anyway,” your professor continues with a clearing of his throat, pointing back to the slideshow he was projecting onto the screen behind him. “For your final project, you will be analyzing and writing a report on a novel from the Romanticism movement - anywhere between 1790 and 1850.”

Your ears perk at the mention of romanticism — it’s your favorite. The sultry drama, the awe of nature, everything written in that time period is unlike any other. You wish you could simply step into the world of their incredible poems and stories and live in them forever.

“Now, this period covers a lot of ground, so I wanted to make this a bit fun,” Dr. Howard adds as he reaches under his desk and retrieves a small wicker basket, shuffling it around so you see the small slips of paper inside of it. “I’ve written the names of all of the novels I wish for you to cover, and placed them in here.”

He crouches back down, lugging up a larger cardboard box from under the desk. “The department has some copies of these novels that you may borrow. You are to pair up, blindly choose a slip at the end of class, and check out the corresponding book.”

You look over at Sam and make the nonverbal agreement that you will be partners, as if you had any other willing options.

You can hardly stay still for the rest of class, anxious to see what you will choose. You’re hoping for something especially dark and dramatic, like The Scarlet Letter or The Fall of the House of Usher.

When the time comes, you spring up from your chair, scurrying over to be the first in line. You eagerly stick your hand in the basket and shuffle around the strips for a moment before gripping one between your fingertips. You pull it out, smiling as you unravel it, though your expression quickly falls once you read its contents:

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

“What is this, high school English class?” you scoff to yourself, flipping the paper between your fingers as if there was a second choice written elsewhere.

It isn’t that you don’t like Jane Austen, she’s a brilliant romantic author— an author of true romance, of unrequited love stories that you adored reading in grade school— but it just feels a bit underwhelming compared to the countless other options you have.

“Can I choose another?” you ask Dr. Howard, who sits scrolling through the computer on his desk.

“No, ma’am, you get what you get,” he smiles politely, tilting his head down to glance over at you over his thickly lensed glasses. “That’s the fun of it!”

You puff a sigh, sulking up to the box of books. You stick your hand in and shuffle them around in search of yours, your heart lurching every time you see a title you would much rather be reaching for.

You finally find it. This copy must be at least half a century old, its spine worn and delicate. You step away from the box to let the next person search, flipping through its yellowed pages as you make your way back to your seat. Many of them are dogeared, with illegible annotations scribbled in black ink throughout.

Sam is still seated, scrolling through his phone. He looks up once he notices you approaching, his brows furrowing at the sight of your disappointed face.

“What’d we get?”

“Fucking Pride and Prejudice,” you scorn, flicking the slip of paper onto the desk in front of him. “Should that even be able to count? It’s satire.”

“I guess since it’s so renowned,” Sam shrugs as he leans forward to study the slip himself. “It’s not the worst choice. At least we didn’t get, like, Frankenstein or something.”

“Sam, I would’ve much preferred Frankenstein over this,” you inform, stuffing the book in your bag.

He contorts his face in clear disagreement, which causes you to giggle.

“Come on,” you say, snagging your bag from your chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

With this being the last project of the semester, you want it done as quickly as possible, especially with the assumption that the work won’t be very enjoyable.

“Meet at West Oak?” you ask Sam as you wait for him to gather his things, suddenly craving a warm cup of tea and a pastry from your favorite café.

With your nearly perfectly aligned schedules, neither of you have any other classes for the day, so you’ve made it a habit to hang at the library or café to study and catch up on whatever you’ve missed from each other over the weekend.

“I don’t have my car,” Sam reminds you as falls into step at your side.

“Oh, I thought that was just an excuse,” you laugh, filing in line towards the door.

“No, well, I wasn’t having mechanical troubles,” he explains, stepping past you to hold the door open, letting you walk through first from underneath his extended arm. “My problem is Josh. He took it to go visit our parents, without telling me, of course.”

You throw your head back in a laugh. Sam has two older twin brothers, Josh and Jake. They both graduated a few years back, Jake in sound engineering, and Josh in performance arts. Josh is now working as head of your university’s theater department, and Jake is an audio tech at the same studio as Sam, so the twins live together just up the road from you. You have hung out with them multiple times since befriending Sam, and you’ve come to learn that they are both just as talented and intelligent as him, but perhaps a bit spastic — Josh especially. You recall a few months ago when Sam told you that Josh had wrecked and totaled the Jeep he had gotten as a graduation present from their parents. Luckily he wasn’t injured, but they’ve been hesitant to get him another car since. You suppose the issue still stands.

“He stole it right out of the parking garage. I called and he said Jake dropped him off after refusing to let him take his. His excuse for not telling me was he was ‘running late’,” Sam rolls his eyes, air-quoting the last part. “I should have the bastard arrested for theft, I had to walk here.”

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. The brothers are always having some sort of conflict, though it never amounts to anything serious, and it goes as nothing but entertainment for you.

“All that trouble, I would’ve just skipped,” you say as you skip through the foyer and out into the chilly winter air.

Holiday break is rapidly approaching, and the treetops and roofs of the buildings around you are dusted lightly with the first fall of snow.

“I could have,” Sam replies, and you notice his pace slows a bit, so you turn around to glance over at him. “But it’s my favorite class, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

He’s giving you this look that he does sometimes, and it never fails to catch you off guard. It’s something about how his usual deep brown eyes suddenly brighten to a warm honey, and how the crescent lines on the sides of his mouth deepen with his lips curved into the softest smile. It gives you an indiscernible feeling deep in the pit of your stomach, like he’s just flattered you.

You don’t let your thoughts wander, and you hope you haven't been staring too long when you clear your throat, motioning to your car parked in the lot across the courtyard.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I can drive.”

~

The drive there is filled with your usual nonsense chatter, with your music playing softly in the background. You ask about Sam’s holiday plans, and if he’s started Christmas shopping yet.

“Not yet,” he laughs from the passenger seat. “I’m not the best gift giver. But we’re renting a cabin with my grandparents for a week, and I’m really excited. It’s gorgeous, deep in the Huron mountains. Have you been?”

“No, I haven’t,” you smile as you pull into the parking lot of West Oak. “But that sounds lovely.”

“Well, maybe we can go sometime,” Sam offers, and you freeze, even with his nonchalant tone. “It’s beautiful year round.”

“Yeah,” you reply a bit too quickly, and you cringe at how your voice goes up a few octaves. “That would be fun.”

You try to not let yourself deliberate your overzealous reply too much as you twist the steering wheel into the first parking spot, switching off the engine and gathering your things.

“I’m gonna go find us a spot,” you say over your shoulder as you enter the café, leaving Sam to stand in the order line. “Get me usual?”

“Earl grey and danish,” Sam answers, shooting his finger at you to verify.

“You got it,” you point back with a smile. “Whatever flavor they have today.”

You walk through the array of tables, scanning for anything available. It’s a bit busy, but you get lucky and snag one by the window in the far back room, just as a sweet looking elderly couple is leaving it.

You settle down in the chair and pull the needed contents out of your bag: your laptop, a notebook and pens, and…the book.

You sigh as you stare at it, examining it more attentively than when you first laid eyes on it earlier. It’s cover is printed with a marbled design that looks as if someone dipped a paintbrush in a mixture of blues and reds and twirled it across the buckram. The name of the novel is printed in silver, against a ruby red square in its center, with delicate embellishments etched along the edges.

You turn the book in your hands to look at its spine: the same ruby red and dainty adornments, with three navy blue squares, one highlighting the name of its renowned author, the second its printing company, and the last acknowledging its illustrator.

Illustrator? You don’t remember seeing pictures. You flip the book open again, shuffling through its fragile pages until you come across a few that have a firmer, glossy texture, their pastel colors standing out immediately.

You study the delicate prints. One shows Elizabeth, the sharp- witted main character of the story. She’s wearing a pale yellow dress, with frilly lace trimmings and feathered, sumptuous bonnet tied to her head, its pink ribbon streaming down her shoulders. Her expression is wistful, her doe eyes staring longingly into the distance as a letter hangs loosely from her delicate hands.

You remember reading about the letters, her unrequited lover spilling his heart to her through the ink. The idea of only being able to communicate through the chance of a letter strikes you as incredibly romantic. You wish more people wrote them nowadays.

The next page is of the man himself — Mr. Darcy. He looks stoic and noble, a cane tucked under the arm of his tailcoat that skirts along his white breeches, his top hat crowning a head of thick, dark curls. His face is handsome and earnest, his body and gaze facing to the side. You don’t know what scene in particular the illustration comes from, but his legs are extended as though he’s apprehensive to go somewhere. You imagine he’s on his way to Elizabeth.

You forgot how much you actually love this book. You chalked it up to you being a lovelorn teenager when you thought back to how much you enjoyed it in high school, but the story starts coming back to you as you look though the rest of the pictures. You’re admiring another handsome illustration of Darcy when you see a figure approaching from your peripherals.

“Here you go,” Sam chimes as he sets down a travel coffee cup with its paper sleeve, a foil wrapped danish balancing on its lid. “One steaming cup of earl grey, and one raspberry danish.”

He places the danish on the table once everything is set, and slides into the chair across from you.

“Thank you,” you smile, setting down the book and eagerly grabbing the tea, taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid.

“What’d you get?” you ask as you eye his cup, unwrapping your warm pastry.

“I asked the barista what her favorite drink is,” he says, picking it up and examining the label scribbled on its side.. “Caramel, praline, something. I don’t know, but it sounded good.”

He lifts the cup to his lips with both hands, his fingers lacing together to cradle it gently. It always amuses you how strangely he drinks things, almost like a child.

“Tastes good too,” he smiles. “Wanna try?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you giggle, breaking off the first piece of danish and stuffing it in your mouth. “But let’s get started on this.”

You tap the book, frowning when you suddenly realize you probably should’ve gotten two copies.

“I guess, let’s just take turns reading it?” Sam says, seeming to have the same thought as you. “We can just run through it real quick. I remember the story vaguely, but I definitely need a refresher.”

“That works,” you nod.

Coming from two literacy majors, you both can get through a book in just a few hours, so this one should be a breeze.

“Then I’ll start,” Sam offers, taking the fragile book in his hand and flipping to the first page

He clears his throat, furrowing his brow and placing a hand regally to his chest.

“Chapter One; It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

He speaks in an awful attempt at a posh English accent, and it makes you laugh. You quickly redact your regret of not getting two copies; instead of having your face buried in the text as you follow along, you’re able to watch Sam as he acts out the words. He has the book extended to his left, his free hand making dramatic gestures as he reads just loud enough to not disrupt any of the other café patrons.

Since the chapters are rather short, you decide to switch off after every two. You’re surprisingly nervous once you reach the third, wanting to keep the same theatrical energy as Sam.

“The girls grieved along over such a number of ladies,” you read along, entering the scene of the Bennett sisters meeting Mr. Bingley and company. “But were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve, he had brought only six with him from London, his five sisters and a cousin.”

You try to mimic the same accent Sam was using, but it eventually falls apart after an attempt to stifle a laugh from hearing him snort with amusement.

“And when the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of only five altogether, Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.”

You swoon at the first mention of Mr. Darcy, smiling through your words as you continue the scene of recounts about his pompous ego, and how the Bennett family dismisses him and his arrogance. Your heart flutters at what’s to come of their relationship.

The two of you spend the next few hours going back and forth, jotting down significant parts that can be used in your report. You’re about twenty chapters deep, right at the part where Elizabeth denies marriage to Mr. Collins, the unimpressive clergyman and distant cousin to Darcy.

“I think this is a good place to stop,” you say, slapping the book shut.

Your head feels a bit hazy after concentrating so hard for so long, and you look out the window to see the sun beginning to set over the snow-dusted buildings across the street.

“Wanna meet here tomorrow to continue?” Sam asks, starting to gather your empty cups and wrappers. “You know, once I get my car back.”

“Yeah sure, and I think I have a copy of this somewhere at home,” you answer as you slide the copy over to him, thinking back to the collector's series of classics your parents gave you for Christmas one year. “It’s definitely being used as decoration on one of my shelves somewhere. So here, you take this one.”

Sam happily accepts the book, sliding into the front pocket of his book bag.

You’re pondering his idea of coming back to the café tomorrow to finish reading as you’re both putting the rest of your stuff away. You glance around at the people lingering in the café, the crowd much more sparse as closing time nears.

“Actually, how about my place tomorrow?” you ask as you’re both heading back to your car outside. “My analytics class gets out at four, you can come over after? We can get a pizza?”

Your heart picks up pace, suddenly nervous that what you’re asking sounds like you’re insinuating something that oversteps your boundaries as friends, even though the invitation is nothing new.

Sam smiles at you from across the hood of the car, gently pulling the passenger door open once you unlock it.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

~

It’s the next day, and you’ve just spent the three hours aggressively cleaning your apartment in anticipation for Sam coming over. You’re not sure why you feel the need to clean, he’s been over multiple times before when you’ve had your laundry strewn over the couch, and dishes in the sink, but something compelled you to today. It started by just sweeping the floor, but led to you wiping the counters, vacuuming the rugs, and replacing every air freshener and candle around your place. The space now smelt like the perfectly sweet mix of brown sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon.

You fall to the couch, sighing loudly as you wipe your brow from the labor you just endured, when you hear a knock at the door.

You freeze.

He’s here already? You reach for your phone on the coffee table, freeze at the sight of your clock — 6:15. You had agreed to meet at 6.

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you scroll through series of messages and missed calls from him that you had not heard as you were cleaning.

Sam

5:30: Hey, I just got my car back from Josh. I can go ahead and get the pizza. I’ll be over by 6 :)

5:45: Just picked it up! Otw now

5:55: Here

6:05: Hello??

You feel a rush of panic, looking down at your tattered sweatpants and t-shirt. This isn’t a formal occasion by any means, but you are nowhere near presentable to anyone’s standards.

“Just a second!” you call out over your shoulder.

You feel terrible for making Sam wait any longer, but you scramble off the couch and sprint to your room.

You yank off your sweats and reach for the first pair of jeans you can find, hopping into them frantically. You rip off the t-shirt and leave the tank top you have on underneath, pulling a cardigan over your bare arms before racing over to your vanity for a spritz of perfume. You catch a glimpse of your tangled mess of hair, and decide to rake your brush through it a few times before pulling it into a bun.

“Whatever,” you huff with an annoyed click of your tongue, satisfied enough with your improvement in appearance.

You pick off bits of lint and dust from your top as you shuffle over to your door, unlocking it and pulling it open to reveal Sam.

“Oh good, you’re alive,” Sam laughs, his hands gripping either side of a large pizza box. “You weren’t answering your texts, I was getting worried. I was waiting out there for like ten minutes before one of your neighbors let me in the building, said he recognized me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe, your face heating with embarrassment as you gesture at him to come inside. “I was just doing some tidying up, and lost track of time, and I guess my phone was on silent. Thank you for getting the pizza, I totally would have ordered it before if-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he politely interrupts with a dismissing wave, his tone cool and collected following your slew of excuses.

Your blush deepens as you follow him into the kitchen, watching as he peels off his jacket and sets the pizza box down on the counter.

You notice he’s wearing a cozy, white sweater that you had to borrow once, after spilling a glass of cabernet all over your sweater during an outing with him and his brothers last winter. He insisted on letting you change into it because, in his words, the giant splotch of red “made it look like you had been stabbed to death”. He had not brought a jacket though, and spent the rest of the night in just the t-shirt he had on underneath it, which included the 20 minute walk back to his place in the freezing cold. He ended up catching pneumonia the next day, and was bedridden for a week, with you routinely bringing him soup and catching him up with what he missed in class.

You reminisce on the sweet memory, until you notice him turn around to face you.

“Hungry?” Sam asks, and you realize he’s repeated himself, the pizza box flipped open.

“Oh yeah,” you finally say, stepping to look at the glorious sight of it over his shoulder, your mouth watering.

With the rumbling of your stomach, you realize you had accidentally skipped lunch in lieu of your cleaning frenzy. You reach above you to grab two plates from the cabinet, handing one to Sam.

“Starving, actually.”

The both of you split off your respective slices onto the plates and take a seat on the couch in your living room. You turn on your TV and keep it on whatever channel you had left it on, using it as background noise more than anything.

“So, how did getting your car back go?” you ask before taking the first bite from the tip of your slice.

“Oh, god,” Sam rolls his eyes, his mouth already full.

“Josh tried to convince me to let him borrow it until the weekend, but there is no fuckin’ way.”

He shakes his head with the last words, the oil from the pizza making his lips glisten. You can’t help but stare a bit as he wipes them with a napkin, but you quickly bring yourself back to the conversation before he notices.

“Aw,” you finally say, forcing a frown. “I feel bad.”

“Please, don’t,” he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “He’ll survive. Plus, I think our parents are gonna let him have their Oldsmobile, though I didn’t think that clunky thing could even run anymore.”

He gives an amused cackle after that, taking another bite.

“Well, that’s good,” you giggle, your fingers squeezing into the napkin that you have balled in your fist.

Your throat is getting dry from both the pizza and your nerves, and you realize you haven’t gotten anything to wash it down.

“Oh, fuck,” you blurt, hopping off the couch and shuffling back into the kitchen. “You want a drink?”

“Yeah, whatcha got?” Sam asks over his shoulder.

You pull open the door to your fridge, scanning your mostly barren shelves for what you have.

“Water, Sprite, lemonade…” you start listing off.

You swing open the freezer to make sure you have ice, when your eyes catch sight of a frosted blue bottle on the door.

“…Vodka?”

“Vodka!” Sam exclaims, without hesitation.

You’re usually not much of a liquor drinker, but one of your friends had left the bottle as a pregame for a night out the other week, and they told you to keep it when you tried to give it back. There’s only about a third of it left, and you’ve been meaning to polish it off, but you didn’t really consider tonight to be appropriate for that. Knowing Sam though, you’re foolish to think he would ever turn down the offer.

“Okay, but let’s not get too crazy,” you laugh, grabbing two glasses and popping the lid of the chilled bottle. “We have work to do.”

“It’ll just let us get more into character,” Sam argues, his head peering over the couch to watch you make the drinks.

“I guess you're right,” you answer, thinking back to how much you enjoyed acting the story out yesterday.

You decide to pour a bit of lemonade over the vodka, mixing the drinks with a cocktail spoon and carrying them over to the living room.

“Cheers,” you toast, handing Sam his glass as you settle back on your spot next to him.

“Cheers,” Sam answers in his terrible posh accent, clinking his glass to yours. “To romanticism.”

Of course, one drink turned into two, and two to three, and pretty soon you’re feeling the effects of the liquor. You feel yourself getting more giggly by the second, your heavy head laid against the back of the couch as you watch Sam read. He had picked up the book by his second drink, just after you ensued another reminder about the work you two had to get done.

You had agreed to stop your separate reading last night right at your favorite part in the book, where Darcy confesses his undeniable love for Elizabeth. You could go grab your copy from your room to follow along, but you’re too comfortable to bother getting up. Plus, the drinks definitely are contributing to his grand performance.

He has the book cradled in his left hand, his head bowed and lashes fluttering down at the pages. He’s given up on his accent at this point, seeming much more intrigued by the story than he was prior. You watch intently as his eyes scan over each line, lips carefully articulating each word despite his slight drunkenness. His brow raises occasionally for emphasis, the hand that’s gripping his dwindling glass of liquor moving aimlessly with the eb and flow of each sentence.

“Elizabeth could not think of Darcy’s leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him,” he reads with a rhythmic cadence in his voice. “But Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.”

He tips the glass to his lips for a sip after he finishes the sentence, and being how excited you are, you take it as a chance to continue the scene yourself. You grab the book from his hand, quickly finding where he left off.

“While settling this point,” you read, your labored breathing discernible, due to either your nerves or the alcohol.

You see Sam sit back into the couch from your peripherals, his fingers lacing together in his lap as he listens.

“She was suddenly roused by the sound of the door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of it being the Colonel himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might inquire particularly after her.”

You pull one of your knees to your chest and rest your chin on it, playing with the frayed trim of your jeans as you anxiously approach the climax of the story.

“But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you deliver the momentous line. You give Sam a quick glance just to make sure he’s just as into it as you are, but when you meet eyes, you realize he’s admiring more than just the words that you read. You have to pause for a moment to take in his expression.

He’s giving that look again, except the feeling it gives you now is nearly overwhelming. His eyes look like they’ve filled with a million stars, the whites as wide and bright as ever, especially against the frame of his dark lashes. He studies your flustered face, his supple lips curving in the slightest smile as he gives you a nod to continue. You struggle to break his gaze, but you eventually clear your throat and find where you stopped, your fuzzy mind making it a bit difficult this time.

“In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room.”

You feel Sam shift his weight on the couch, but you now have the book purposely blocking his face so he doesn’t further distract you.

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in and agitated manner, and thus began—“

Before you can continue, you feel Sam’s hand grasp over yours that’s gripping the book, your knuckles white around its fragile edges with your sudden flux of emotions. You jump slightly at his touch, and you pull the book down to meet his gaze. You realize he wants you to hand it back to him.

You release it from your grip and he takes it from you gingerly, clearing his throat to continue.

“In vain I have struggled,” he reads, his tone sounding much more profound than the last time he spoke.

You see his jaw clench a bit as he prepares for the next line.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

His eyes linger on the page for a moment, before traveling up to meet yours. Time seems to stand still as he continues looking at you with those starry eyes, and your heart feels like it’s in your throat, its beat roaring in your eardrums.

You know he didn’t just simply read the line aloud — there was intention held in the words.

“Sam,” is all you’re able to get out, and you’re not even sure what else to say before his body practically falls into you, cupping the side of your jaw once your lips crash together.

You’re completely stunned by the sudden contact, but it doesn’t take long at all for you to melt into his touch. His lips have the gentle burn of the liquor, and they’re pillow soft against yours. You’ve been craving this, all of your presumptuous thoughts and repressed emotions towards him now flooding to the surface. Your hands begin to wander as the kiss deepens, your fingers running along the knitted ribs of his sweater before meeting the warm skin of his neck. They travel through his long strands of hair as he guides you down to lay down along the couch, his nimble legs straddling yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he breathes under your ear, planting soft kisses along your jaw.

You knew those lingering stares he gives you are because he’s felt the same way, but you never knew how to go about being anything more than friends. This turn of events, confessing love through the words of a prolific writer, evidently seems very on brand for the both of you.

“I imagine it’s just as long as I have,” you reply, turning his face so you can kiss his lips again.

Sam’s smiles at your answer, before his lips begin to trail down your neck as you peel off the cardigan you so hastily put on earlier. His fingertips begin lingering at the edge of your tank top, his eyes flicking up to you with hesitance.

“It’s okay,” you beam at him, nodding your approval. “Take off my clothes, Sam.”

He breathes a shallow laugh.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, princess,” he smiles, the pet name making your skin prickle with excitement.

He swiftly yanks up the tank top, and you lift up your arms to pull it off completely, tossing it to the floor below you. His eyes dazzle at your exposed chest, his lips finding your collarbone once you’ve laid back down.

“You’re so beautiful,” he swoons as he begins traveling down to between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches over to gently knead one, his mouth finding your nipple, sucking at its peak as your eyelids flutter at the pleasurable sensation. Your fingertips grip at the nape of his sweater to urge him to sit up and slip it off, yearning to feel his bare skin against yours. His lips lock yours again once it’s discarded, your hands now exploring the new territory of his chest and back.

He pays regards to your opposite breast, before he slides his body further down your frame.

“Is this okay?” he asks as he grips the waist of your jeans.

“Absolutely,” you breathe, your fingers already working to unbutton and unzip them.

You shimmy out of them once they’re loose enough, lifting yourself off the couch a bit to pull them down past your ass. Sam helps you the rest of the way, tossing them onto the floor with the rest once they’re completely off.

He lays down further, with his stomach against the couch cushion so that he’s able to lace his arms around your thighs, his head hovering between them.

You’d be lying if you say you didn’t purposely choose one of your favorite lacy pairs of panties today, just in case this exact situation were to happen. You’re grateful that you did, with the way his eyes hungrily look over the lace that hugs your hips.

He places a kiss right above their hem, his chin brushing against the tiny bow tied to its center. Maybe it’s the change of angle, or how every nerve in your body is now on full throttle, but you’ve suddenly become keenly aware of the patches of stubble that cover his chin and above his lip, the hairs prickling gently at your sensitive skin as his lips move along the thin waistband. You shiver with pleasure, tilting your head back and shutting your eyes to revel in his touch.

Sam takes his time to move his fingertips along the expanse of your tummy and hips, before he laces his fingers around the sides of the panties. He pulls them down painfully slow, the cool air hitting your freshly shaven skin.

You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t shave your entire body the night before—not that you think Sam would mind the hair, but you did it for your own gratification.

You feel Sam’s breath hitting your abdomen as he continues to pull at the lace, and you dare to glance down at him, only to find him already staring up at you. His irises dark with lust, and he keeps eye contact as he places a kiss right on your smooth skin, a moan involuntary escaping your lips at the feeling of his scruff rub against it.

He has the gall to chuckle at your display of pleasure, and it causes your cheeks to heat with frustration.

“Stop teasing me,” you beg, running a hand from the crown of his head, through the strands of his thick hair. “You know what I want.”

“Hmm,” he hums, reaching down to unloop the panties from your ankles and letting them drop to the floor. “I don’t think I do. What is it?”

He then rests his chin against where he just kissed, the hairs of his stubble pricking you almost painfully now. You squirm at the feeling, breathing out a desperate laugh, your eyes clamping shut.

“God, who are you?” you whine, blindly reaching to cup his cheek and lift his chin off of you, your fingertips running against the grain of coarse hair. “What happened to my sweet Sammy?”

“I’m still here,” he assures with a kiss to your jutted hip bone. “I just love hearing your voice.”

You consider his words for a moment.

“Oh, do you?” you smile, feeling him move back to where you want him.

With a glimmer of deviance, you glance over at the book that found its way onto the coffee table, face down on the page you left it on.

You reach over and grab it, Sam not noticing as he continues to kiss up and down your slit.

“Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression,” you begin, your voice wavering as you try to separate your concentration from his efforts. “She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent.”

Your lips curving in a smirk when you feel Sam stop what he’s doing, and you move the book to look down at his beaming face.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he breathes, clearly proud of you for coming up with such an idea.

He quickly bends back down to continue lapping at you, and you try your best to focus back on the book.

“Then he considered sufficient encouragement;” you continue, your breath enveloping each word as his mouth works fervidly against you. “And the avowal of all he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed.”

You only get through a few more lines before his tongue flicks directly onto the bud of your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath. Your voice staggers more and more with each sentence, your fingers shaking as it flips the page.

“In spite of her deeply rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man’s affection–mmm, Sam,” your concentration lapses with a moan when he hits your sweet spot again.

You feel his lips vibrate in a laugh before he lifts himself from you.

“What was that?” he quips with a devious inflection that you’ve never heard from him.

But then again, there’s a lot of firsts happening tonight.

You pull the book away from you once more, just to see him smirking up at you, his swollen lips slick with your wetness.

“Am I a character in this book?”

You blush, running your fingers back through the top of his hair.

“Shut up,” you jest, gently pressing his head back down.

He obeys, but not without a cocky brow raise, his lips reuniting with your heated skin.

You barely make it through the end of the next page before you’re completely tripping over your words, the sentences not making any sense with the amount of whimpers and moans that escape between each syllable.

You finally slap the book closed and toss it over the side of the couch when you feel one of Sam’s slender fingers sink into the depths of your core. He slowly pumps it in and out of you, your moans, mixed with the lewd sounds of his workings, filling the room around you as you feel your core begin to tighten.

He manages to work in another digit after a moment, and your nails reach to dig into the flexed muscles of his shoulders as their rhythm quickly syncs with the pace of his tongue.

“I’m gonna,” you pant, vivid colors painting behind your eyelids.

You can’t even finish your sentence, your body shuddering with the first surge of pleasure.

“Mhmm,” he hums against you, the vibrations sending you further over the edge. “Come for me.”

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, every muscle in your body lurches with waves of pleasure that course through you. Wisps of light bloom your vision for a moment, until you’re gasping for air with your come down, your body soothing into a blissful trance once your energy levels. You realize once you come to that you managed to get a painful grip at the root of Sam’s hair, and you unhinge your fingers from the tuft that you were tugging at.

“Sorry,” you breathe, your bare chest heaving as you smooth the strands out.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, placing wet kisses up your body until he’s once again at your lips, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You begin to lift yourself up until you’re in a sitting position, and your hands slide down Sam’s torso. Your fingertips twirl around the hairs of his happy trail, and you let them linger down to the bulge that pressed against the fabric. You push into him as you continue to lean forward, guiding him back so he’s now the one laid out along the couch.

“My turn,” you smirk as you hover over him, planting a kiss along the curve of his neck. You smell his cologne lingering on his skin as you run the kisses down his chest and stomach, right down to where your fingers were playing before.

You help him zip his fly down, and he does the same shimmy you did, the jeans slipping with ease from his slim waist. He kicks off the legs and is left with only his briefs, the outline of his member stretching the cotton it’s strained against. You bend down and kiss him through the fabric, before gripping the stretchy waistband and gently pulling it down. His hard cock springs out, slapping lightly against his abdomen. You eye him zealously, your fingers wrapping gently around his shaft to tip it towards you. Your mouth is already salivating, and you lean forward to let a bead of spit drip from your open mouth.

You flick your eyes up to him, and you're delighted to see that he’s watching you, his mouth agape. You smile at him as your hand begins traveling up and down, slicking him in your saliva. You finally press your lips to his head, your tongue slipping out from your lips and swirling around the tip. Your hands continue to work his shaft as you push him further into your mouth, until you feel him in the back of your throat and you have to brace your hands on his hip bones as you fight your gag reflex. Pulling him back out through hollowed cheeks, you release him from your pursed lips with a lewd pop. You continue the cycle a few more times, your eyes streaming with tears with each plummet. You glance up again and meet the expanse of his neck this time, his head tilted back with the swell of his Adam's apple bobbing as he desperately swallows a moan. His long hair pools around his lean shoulders, beads of sweat glistening on his chest. As soon as you feel him begin to throb inside your mouth, he latches his hand around a section of your hair and swiftly pulls you up from him, the taste of his precum left on your tongue once you release. His hand let go of your hair to grip the back of your neck, guiding you up his body so your legs straddle him, your core against his slickened shaft.

You begin to rock your hips against him as your lips lock once more, the tastes of each other intermingling. You whimper with the sensation, still a bit sensitive from your first come up. His lips latch onto your collarbone as you continue to grind into him, until you feel properly warmed back up.

“Do you want me to put on a condom?” he breathes when your hand reaches down to line him up with your entrance.

“You don’t have to,” you pant, staring to tease yourself with his cock.

You, of course, trust each other to be clean, and you’ve been on birth control since a teenager. If any further anxiety lingers in the next morning, you have some morning after pills stashed in your bathroom cabinet.

“Okay,” he smiles, pulling your lips back to his.

You proceed to ease him in, moaning at how good it feels to finally have him inside of you. You roll yourself up and down his length a few times until you’re acclimated enough to sit down at his base. You continue the motion of grinding yourself against him, feeling him deep inside of you now, your head tipping back with a few escaped moans and whimpers. With your eyes still closed, you feel his fingers snake around your exposed throat and pull you forward. He kisses you deeply, still squeezing at your neck, now having the leverage to gyrate his hips and pull himself in and out of you. Your mouth dips back open when he begins to quicken the pace, and you push yourself fully onto him again, using your folded knees to bounce yourself along his length. You grab at your bouncing breasts, beads of sweat dripping between them and tickling down your stomach. He still has a grip on your neck, his other elbow propped behind him and his abs flexing to hold the position. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing the tendrils of muscles.

You’re suddenly being pushed backwards after a few more sinful moments, with Sam still inside of you and wrapped around your throat, your position seesawing once more so that you land with your back along the cushion. You don’t know how he even managed such a move, but you don’t have much time to ponder it as he thrusts deeply into you. You hike your legs around his waist, and the new angle lets him hit just the right spot. He lets go of your neck only to nurse his fingers into your mouth, pulling them out once your tongue has lapped around them. He lowers his hand, and you feel the slick pads of his fingers swirl against your throbbing clit. He continues the motion as he thrusts harder into you, the sound of your skin slapping together striking your eardrums. The addition of his fingers has your next climax rapidly building again, and you know he must be getting close when his rhythm begins to unravel.

“Come for me again,” he pleads, the veins in his neck protruding, his cheeks and chest rosy and sheened with sweat.

“I’m gonna,” you cry back, just as the first shudder courses through you.

You can tell he does his best to ride you through it, but he can only last a few more thrusts before he pulls out of you, his fingers leaving your clit to grip at the frame of the couch. You quickly reach down to stroke him, until you feel ribbons of warmth lap onto your stomach, a moan of relief escaping his lips.

You both sit there panting for a moment, his hands planted on either side of you so as to not hinder the mess. His hair hangs down and tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you, and you reach up tuck the stands behind his ears.

“That was incredible,” you breathe, turning over to grab your tank top from the floor.

You use it as a makeshift towel, wiping down your stomach and tossing it back into the floor, making a mental note to do some more laundry in the morning.

“It was,” he agrees, planting a kiss on your forehead before letting himself collapse to the side, between you and the back of the couch. “I can’t believe we just did that.

You giggle, hiking your thigh up to rest it against his abdomen.

“We neither.”

There isn’t a lot of room on the couch to lay comfortably together, so you decide to get up, extending a hand to guide him up as well.

“Come on, you might as well spend the night now.”

He nods his agreement with a sweet smile, and you lace your fingers together and take the lead down the hall, opening the door to your freshly cleaned clean room, the smell of sugar cookies wafting in the air with the lit candle you have on your nightstand.

You climb into your freshly made bed with Sam following suit, pulling the covers over the both of you, the fresh fabric feeling heavenly on your smooth skin.

You lean lean and snuff the candle, before crawling deeper into the bed and nestling your face into the cook of Sam’s neck.

“Goodnight, Sammy,” you mumble, the warmth of his body and soft fabric cocooned around you quickly winding you to sleep.

He presses one more kiss on top of your head, his arm cradling you.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

~

It’s Christmas morning, and your family is gathered around the tree to open presents. You’ve been home for about a week now, climbing the steps of your parents porch a few days after submitting your finals, the last of which being the project you completed with Sam for Dr. Howard.

You were both really proud of how it turned out, and to your delight, you got a notification in your mailbox a day later, informing that you both received an A+.

You got to spend time with Sam before the two of you parted ways for the holidays, and needless to say, you’ve fully established your relationship beyond friends. You spent most of your time lounging in bed with him, watching Christmas movies until you ultimately got distracted with each other to pay any attention.

The night before you left, he took you out to a nice dinner, marking it as the first real outing you had as a couple. You ate and drank to your heart's content, spending the night at his place before he drove you to the airport in the morning.

You had been excited to announce your newfound relationship with Sam to your family, with your mother specifically always raving about how sweet and handsome he is. They’re thrilled for the two of you, and hope they can meet the rest of the Kiszka family sometime soon.

You love the gifts you receive from your family, your favorites being a new set of moleskine notebooks and fountain pens from your parents, that you'll be sure to use up next semester, and a gorgeous amethyst necklace from your sister.

Your dad is commencing his duty as the trash man once everything has been unwrapped, stuffing the leftover wrapping paper into a big trash bag as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

You make yourself a cup of tea, enjoying how the waves of amber seep into the water as you dunk the bag into your favorite mug. You sip if gently as you pad over to the window in your entryway, and to your delight, you see tiny flakes of snow beginning to dust your front yard. It’s always a toss up on whether or not it’ll be a white Christmas, or if the most snow you’ll get is the patches left from a past storm, so you’re elated to see the former be the outcome for this year.

You’re about to turn to inform your family of the exciting news, when a flash of silver catches your attention from the floor of your porch. You look down to find that it’s a tinsel bow, set atop a package wrapped in red paper.

Your brows furrow with curiosity as you push the front door open, assuming it’s a package for your parents from one of your neighbors. Your eyes widen when you see your name on a tag looped with the bow, etched in a familiar handwriting.

You start tearing into the wrapping as you step back inside, the cool air already nipping at your bare arms and feet.

You gasp when you see the familiar crimson spine and silver letters.

“No way,” you breathe, remembering how secretly upset you were when you put the book back in its box after submitting your project last week, assuming the department wanted to keep such a delicate copy.

You flip through the pages, reminiscing on your newfound love for the story that you once thought you disdained, when a folded piece of paper falls from the bind and flutters to the floor.

You bend down to pick it up, reading the words that are scribbled along the lines in the same endearing handwriting.

I had to beg Howard to let me keep this, and he only let me after I said it was a gift for his most favorite student. I figured you’d like to have it, considering all it’s done for us. Plus, it really is a great story.

What can I say? Austen’s a genius.

Merry Christmas, I ardently love and admire you. - Sam ♡

[brownflower23]

Not My Father

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

*Mature Content Warning*

Summary: Reader gets arrested at a bar. Her boss comes to save her, but after months of frustration she doesn't get the response she expects. However, she receives much more than she can handle. 

"That pervert is lucky all I did was break his nose" You roll your eyes at officer idiot questioning you. Treating you as some sort of criminal, when in actuality you put the worst of criminals away. "Well we called your supervisor; you can take it up with him" The officer snickered, a lump instantly formed in your throat.

"You called who?" You yell at the dumbstruck officer in front of you, clearly not expecting your panicked response. Just after the words left your mouth, your boss crossed the barrier into the holding room. Your stomach instantly flipped, as if you had been caught by a parent as a child. Your eyes meeting his; he stared with the same scolding glare you were expecting. The same look you'd seen many times; it always gave you chills. However, you had never been the one sitting on this side of the table feeling its full force. He folded his arms tightly over his broad chest, eyes lingering at the cuffs connected to your wrist.

At that moment, you couldn't find words to defend what he was seeing, you could only imagine his thoughts. Your barely appropriate dress, your makeup, unlike anything he had seen at work. He finally peeled his eyes off of you, somehow that making you feel even worse.

"Please remove the cuffs, I can handle it from here. Thank you again for the call." Hotch finally spoke, but only to the officer, nodding to him. He returned the nod and quickly walked over removing your restraints.

"Thanks." You gripped at the idiot who arrested you, rolling your eyes at him again. Hotch shot you a warning glare, causing you to sigh while massaging your wrists. This night was utter bullshit. The officer finally left the room, you stood expecting to follow.

"Where do you think you're going?" His stern voice forcing your body to freeze, sending chills down your entire spine. "Um, I thought I was allowed to leave." You replied without looking directly at him, you didn't think you could handle it right now. "You have nothing to say for yourself?" Hotch scoffed.

"I'm sorry?" You questioned, failing to sound sincere. He doesn't respond this time, after an uncomfortable moment of silence you finally looked to meet his stare. He let out a frustrated sigh "Let's go. Before I change my mind." He cautions before leading us through the police station, again thanking the captain and same officer.

"Where is my car?" You ask once outside after you were returned your phone and I.D. "I'm guessing still at the bar you were picked up at, or by now at a towing company. You can deal with that in the morning, get in." He answers not stopping his strides toward the black SUV. You hurry to enter, afraid he might leave you here, the cool night air sending additional chills over your body, still buzzing from earlier.

The ride has an eerie silence, you had never made Hotch this mad at you, the feeling honestly made you want to hurl. You notice you aren't familiar with the street signs you were passing. "Can I ask where we are going?" You break the silence. "My place." He answers blankly, not removing his attention from the road. "Why?" You dare to question. "Because it is late, and you were picked up from a bar." He shot back gripping the steering wheel tighter, not seeming to give you another option.

After ten more agonizing minutes, he finally pulls into a parking garage. You quickly jump out of the car, following Hotch through a few hallways. You felt a wave of awkwardness once he finally stopped at the door. He quickly unlocked it and opened the door for you. You look at the open door, feeling like it was a threshold you shouldn't enter.

"Look I'm fine, I can call a cab to take me to my car." You insist, still not crossing the threshold. "No. You shouldn't be driving, you can stay here." He replied like it was an order. "We aren't at work." You spat not believing him. "Lower your voice, your yelling will wake others." He corrected you again, you noticing the clenching of his jaw. You groaned pushing past him into the apartment.

"Look I appreciate this but.." you start to continue your previous argument but his deep voice cuts you off. "You're correct agent, we are not at work. Meaning, that I did not have to leave my home in the middle of the night, coming to save you from being thrown in jail. You're lucky Jack is away or you would've been there until Monday." He chastised you again, but this time he was right. Although; still being a dick to you of all people.

"I didn't ask you to, I didn't even tell them I was an agent so don't try to make me feel guilty." You plead your case as he began to walk away. "I'm not trying to make you feel anything, maybe if you had more control of your actions you wouldn't be in this situation." He argues turning back in your direction. You finally noticed his different appearance, no jacket or tie, but jeans with an athletic shirt, his hair not styled but falling casually onto his face.

"I don't even want to be in this situation, I'll just go to my car." You huff turning back walking to the door. You just reached the handle, when a large hand came in your line of sight, pushing against the door.

"I'm not letting you leave like this. I don't know your mental state." You hear spoken close behind you. You spin on your heels, slightly taken back by how close your boss was to you. "I promise I'm fine. I wasn't drunk, and it's been hours." You roll your eyes again. "Obviously not, I have never seen you act like this." His voice was desperately trying to hide his frustration with you for the evening, you could see his chest rising against the fitted shirt.

"What? Not perfectly following your orders? Not everyone is perfect like you Hotch." You were yelling at this point, and you didn't care. You had never seen a person with more patience and composure than Hotch, but you finally broke him. "You allegedly assaulted someone at a bar drunk, get arrested, risk your career, the reputation of the BAU, and my credibility as Supervisor. You honestly think you should go back out right now?" He yelled back shocking you, feeling his minty breath fan across your face.

"You don't even know my side of the story!" You gasp at his assumptions. "How am I supposed to when you wouldn't tell me?" He hisses, still holding his same position, you had never seen such fire in his eyes.

"You are not my fucking father Hotch" You yell again, refusing to let him overpower you.

Your back hit the door with a thud, causing you to groan into his mouth. His hands gripping onto your hips roughly, pulling your bodies as close as possible. One of your hands latching his shoulder to steady yourself, while your other tugged at his soft hair.

"Then stop being a damn brat" He all out growls directly in your face, not missing a beat. Your not sure who moves first, you honestly think it was instantaneous, but before you blinked your mouths clash desperately, hands frantically grasping onto wherever you could reach first.

You purposely tugged harder, retrieving a groan from him, hearing it igniting a hunger in you. His lips slightly parted, so you took advantage sliding your tongue over his, still determined not to be overpowered.

Your control is short-lived, as he shifts his leg up, making you gasp at the contact, your head craning against the cold door. Even on your tiptoes, you couldn't relieve the pressure, perching you upon his thick thigh, causing your dress to bunch leaving only your damp underwear as a barrier.

"Did you think after your little game, I'd let you control me, sweetheart?" He huffs against your ear, in an even deeper tone than he usually held. You had never been affected by a pet name, but just coming from him made your walls clench, further agonizing you. You finally open your eyes, batting up at his dark eyes innocently. "I don't know what you mean" you smirk. You felt a low chuckle in his chest, and then you were swiftly moved, flipping you to face the door.

"I'm having a hard time believing that y/n. You've spent months purposely teasing and frustrating me. This..." he pauses his sentence, using his foot to spread your ankles, gripping your wrist together. "Is exactly what you wanted correct?" He completes the question as a whisper against your ear, making you shutter against him. You weren't giving in that easy.

"I honestly didn't think you had it in you...old man." You further push him, knowing your slight age difference being one of the things you regularly tease him about. He groans lowly at your words, pushing you harder against the door. "I still remember exactly how to handle a brat like you"

He punctuates the end of his sentence by effortlessly ripping your thin underwear from under your skirt, throwing the torn fabric to the floor. You shook at the cool air hitting your core, finally noticing how wet you were. His fingers brush over your center, gently spreading your arousal. You bite your lip to keep in the moans your body desperately want to release.

"Then why are you so wet for me sweetheart, hum?" Hotch hums in your ear, pushing his thick finger slowly into your pussy. You don't bother trying to hold in your moans this time, overwhelmed by the feeling of your muscles clenching around this finger, attempting to take it as deep as possible.

As if a single finger wasn't enough, he added a second stretching you delightfully. You scratch against his hand, as if some sort of plea, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop as you could feel the pleasure building in your stomach. "Something wrong?" He coos arrogantly, watching your face morphing, as your pants of pleasure increase.

"Nothing" You manage to smart back without it sounding completely of a moan. By this point, you drenched his fingers, coating them entirely, letting him fuck his fingers into you as fast as he pleased. You hear a faint growl come deep from Hotch's chest, almost sounding frustrated. "Don't you lie to me; If you are not honest you don't get what you want sweetheart" "And what do I want?" You laugh through a heavy breath.

He shifts an unoccupied finger up to graze your clit every time his fingers plunge into you, making you gasp against the cold door. He leans down to your neck, tickling your skin with his beard. "To be fucked like you wish those boys you entertain would fuck you." Hearing your boss talk like that sends you spiraling, throwing your head back onto his chest to support you as your legs began to feel weak. Just as you clench around his fingers he retracts them, leaving you dripping down your thigh, craving satisfaction.

"What the fuck?" You yell spinning quickly to face him, he catches you by the neck placing you against the door again. Your breath caught, you felt like you didn't have a voice with his large hand around your throat. The way he was staring at you, like his prey. It made your knees weak.

He lifts his other hand between your bodies, you could see his middle fingers glistening. He keeps his eyes nailed to yours, you still trying to calm your pathetic pants. Your mouth gapes as you watch him take the fingers in his mouth, he groans out twirling his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment savoring your taste. You were fucked.

He removes his fingers slowly, still watching you staring at him with big doe eyes. Then wiping the edge of his mouth with his hand. "Watch it, sweetheart. I'm not sure if you haven't caught on... but I always give the orders. You will not cum until I allow." You whimper loudly at his declaration, you had never had a man command you like this, but you couldn't deny the effect it was having on your body.

"I'll do what you say." You whisper, barely audible, looking away from his eyes. Loosening his hand on your neck, using it to make you look back up to him. A faint smirk now played at the corner of his lips. "What was that?" He lightly chuckles. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"I said I'll do what you say. Happy?" You return the smirk. "Hmm, honestly I thought you'd be harder to break. I think you're just trying to get what you want." He informs you, moving his face closer to yours. You shrug your shoulders innocently. "Is it working?" You breathe against his lips before gripping onto his shirt pulling him flush against you.

His mouth explores yours again; it's without a doubt the best kiss of your life. He was so skilled in his movements, and how he taunted you with his hands without actually pleasuring you. Maybe you had been dealing with boys before.

Hotch gripping into your hips, lifting you slightly before walking your bodies away from the door. You hardly notice he was moving you until your legs hit the back of a couch. He instantly spun you around making you a bit dizzy, folding you at the waist over the couch.

You couldn't help the smirk that grew on your face hearing the chime of his belt buckle, you were getting exactly what you wanted. "I wouldn't gloat so quickly y/n" Hotch warns. You try to look back to observe but cannot move from him keeping a hand on your neck, pushing your chest into the oversized cushion.

"And I shouldn't because?" You entertain his warning. "Because this" is the only answer he provides, and you then feel the pressure. That of him forcing his cock in you with a single plunge, burying himself to your brim, ripping through any defiance left in you.

"Aaron!" You scream out his first name, gasping for the air he just knocked from your stomach. He was massive, stretching you uncomfortably, you didn't have to see it to know you had never taken a cock this big. You were also sinfully a sucker for pain.

"Fuck" he groans above you, surly your tightness was affecting him also. You knew that he rammed into you purposely, not wanting you to be able to conform to his size before punishing you.

He made the single motion again, burying himself again and stopping, making you cry out again. "What's wrong sweetheart? A brat like you can take it right?" His breathing is labored now, one hand still tightly holding you down, the other now roughly gripping your hip. He repeats the same hard single thrust, you can feel tears building at your lashes. The way he filled you was overwhelming.

"Please" you beg, squirming under him. You weren't sure what you were begging for at this point, you just needed him. Every time he stills you could feel his cock pulsing deep in you, not delivering enough pleasure to relieve you, but only to further drive you mad.

"Oh, now you want to do what you're told huh? Now you beg like a pathetic whore." He responds with another snap of his hips. You couldn't take much more, you felt as if you could combust at any second. "Aaron I can't..please" you cry, feeling the tears stream over your face, he had finally broken you.

"Go ahead baby, call me what you really want. Go ahead." He groans, pulling your head back by a fist full of your hair. He didn't have to say it, you knew exactly what he meant, and he knew you wanted it. So you let everything out, all the months of frustration boiling over.

"Daddy, please...I'm yours...please" You wish you could've recorded the sound that escaped Aaron at that moment, a loud groan mixed with a needy whine. Matched by feeling his cock twitch inside you, struggling to stay composed hearing that name.

He throws his hips into you again, but this time it follows with another quick thrust, over and over, filling the room with a slapping noise and your moans. He keeps your hair pulled back, making your body hold the arch for him to angle deeper, brushing your g spot with each hard thrust.

"Yes yes yes, don't stop" You scream, him finally giving you what you needed. "Can you take it, baby? You're so damn tight" He grunts, you weren't going to last with him calling you baby. "Yes, daddy, harder please" you plea, wanting him to ruin you. He grants your wish, fucking you harder, you gasping feeling it all the way in your stomach. You would certainly be bruised tomorrow, but the pain would be worth it.

"Fuck daddy. So good... so fucking deep." You cry, feeling your body begin to tingle, your legs shaking against him. He groans feeling you tightening "Cum for daddy sweetheart." He encourages through his heavy breaths, and that's all it takes to make your body snap. He slows his motions slightly letting you ride out your orgasm, your walls still fluttering around his thick cock.

He releases your head, you not having the energy to stay upright you letting it hang down against the couch. "Shit that's was amazing" You whisper, causing him to chuckle and slowly begin to move into you again. Your eyes flash open realizing he still hadn't finished.

"Aaron I can't" you whine, your body couldn't possibly take more of this. "Oh I'm not finished, and neither are you" He growls in your ear, you couldn't help but moan out at his tone. "I can't take anymore" You whine again, only fueling him. He releases the hand that was holding you, now gripping onto both of your hips harshly, definitely leaving a mark. There was no reason to restrain you anymore, he knew you were his.

Hotch returns to the same pace he held previously, causing your eyes to roll back as you yelp, grasping onto the couch for dear life it felt. "Don't forget your place sweetheart. You're done when I say brat..." he pauses his sentence, repositioning one of his hands to your front. "And I think you can give me one more." He states as he set fire to your body rubbing fiercely over your clit, steadily pushing himself deep, determined to make you unravel again.

"Daddy" You scream, feeling your body giving in to him, his thrust becoming frantic, his moans become beastly with each thrust. "Give it to me y/n. Ahh... fuck. I know you want to baby." Is his final pleasuring cry to take you with him, as he made a final slap against your body to sheathe himself fully.

"Oh, Aaron" Is all you can cry as the air hitches in your throat. All at once, your body erupts again, feeling him filling you with his seed. Grasping onto him to anchor yourself to reality, uncertain this level if euphoria is real, or if you'll ever get to relive it again.

Drained of any energy, your body collapses into his, feeling his arms catch you and lifting you sweetly into his embrace. Although; unable to open your eyes, you feel him carefully carrying you, and then the soft cushion of a bed. You weren't sure how long he was gone, but your body slightly jumps at the feeling of a wet cloth between your thighs.

"Wha..what are you doing?" You mutter against a pillow and hear him softly laugh at you. "I've got you, sweetheart, just rest" He replies in a very tender voice. He softly wipes your leg, erasing the proof of your shared pleasure. Even half-conscious you had never felt so adored. Following; you feel him slide the heels off your feet, and then tug at the end of your dress to remove it. Your dress is finally off, and you feel it would be silly to care about after the deed you two just committed.

You are only naked for a couple of seconds before he wiggles a soft t-shirt over your body, oversized enough to be a nightgown. It smells strongly of him, which comforted you, but not as much as him pulling you into his bare chest, kissing your forehead just as you slip into an exhausted sleep.

Please let me know if this should be turned into a short series! Thanks loves!

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Fifteen)

A/N- Not dead. Woo. Uni has just been an absolute killer with my first two major assignments coming up! I’ve been incredibly busy with that and looking after my son that I haven’t really had time to write! Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter. It’s more of a fill chapter to set up the last three!!

Word Count: 2.5k

The next few days passed pretty quickly and you soon found yourselves waking up on Wednesday morning to the sound of a very aggravating pigeon outside the window.

"You know how the Queen owns all the swans?" You groaned, shoving your pillow over your face and squeezing tightly. Mycroft's tired hum of affirmation sounded muffled through the material. "Does she own pigeons too? Or is it legal for me to throw a shoe at that one." Mycroft let out a low chuckle and shuffled in the sheets to face you.

"Very much frowned upon, I'm afraid. There would also be the factor of then having to get out of bed to retrieve the shoe- I'd have sent Anthea but she's preoccupied."

"Mmm.. what's the time anyway?" Quite frankly, you were far too tired to turn your head a few inches to the left to look at the alarm clock yourself.

"Six. I daresay this is the earliest I've woken in a long time, given you're such a terrible influence." You yanked the pillow off your head and threw your arm aimlessly to your side to smack the man in the chest with the cushion. Thinking one step ahead, Mycroft deflected the attack and managed to launch the pillow across the room.

"Stupid spy with your stupid reflexes.." You grumbled. "And now I HAVE to get up because my pillow is gone."

"Oh woe is Y/N, waking at a reasonable hour as though she hasn't done it for the last however many years for work." Mycroft teased, stretching his arms out in front of him. "We could do with starting to get back into routine, given we return to work on Monday." You huffed and swung your legs out of bed, skulking your way to the drawers with all the grace of a troglodyte walking through Kensington Gardens. "While you're already disappointed, I planned to go through the papers from Anthea today. I suspect it should only take four to five hours or so, but it gives the rest of the week to ourselves. I'd offer for you to stay but you'd find it incredibly boring."

"And you'd have to kill me if I saw what was on them?"

"..Possibly. Though I fear I should take the coward's way out and request for somebody else to do so." You piled your clothes in your hands and headed towards the en suite.

"Ooh you're so romantic.." You rolled your eyes and grinned, kissing Mycroft's forehead and going to get ready. "I think I might wander into the city then, if that's alright?" You called out from behind the door, almost tripping into it as you pulled your sock up. "I've got to grab a few things. Might pop in the Yard and make sure Donovan hasn't stolen my office."

---

After getting ready, the pair of you headed downstairs for breakfast- a lazy one, given the lack of sleep, of a sad bowl of cornflakes- and coffee before you pulled your boots on.

"Would you like for me to call a car?" Mycroft asked, standing in the hallway with your coat in his hands. You shook your head, manoeuvring your arms into the sleeves as he held your jacket out for you.

"Nah, I'll be alright. Not been on the tube for a bit, I need to be humbled again. All the fancy jags have spoiled me." Mycroft tugged his Sacramento green scarf off the coat rack and wrapped it around your neck, tucking it in the front of your coat.

"Well, if you change your mind, give me a call and you'll have a fancy jag in minutes." You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, but I'm sure I'll manage being around the general public for today.. Maybe." Saying your goodbyes, you left Mycroft's home and headed to the tube.

---

On the agenda for the day, you had planned to go and find Mycroft some gifts for his birthday. The question initially concerned you; what can you get a man who can get anything he wants? But you shortly realised that Mycroft would simply be happy that you'd thought to get him anything at all. For a man who always shared his brother's claim of sentiment being a chemical defect found in the losing side, it was no secret to you that he was inwardly ecstatic each time you'd ever presented him with something- it was merely just a situation he hadn't really experienced before. With money troubles and being the least favourite growing up, Mycroft had never really received gifts on his birthday or Christmas- the main portion of the funds had gone to Sherlock when it was available, and that was something that Mycroft had grown to deal with. But this year you wanted to make it a little more special for him.

Your initial stop was at Shaftesbury Avenue where you headed to Forbidden Planet. To an outsider who only knew Mycroft's public persona, the idea of buying the man a present in a comic shop would have been laughable- but you knew much better, having found their Doctor Who section a number of years ago. Mycroft already possessed numerous Doctor Who figurines from history, as well as many original props from sets, so picking specific things that could stand out faired difficult but you managed to snag a t-shirt that consisted of all the doctors throughout history, a high quality replica of Tom Baker's scarf, and even a tie that was in the TARDIS blue. Sure, it was nothing compared to the quality found at Savile Row, but the thought was certainly there. Following from there, you elected to take the walk to Oxford Street to pop into Selfridges.

"Oh these are perfect." You muttered under your breath with a small smile on your face as your fingers traced the edge of the small faux leather box. Though a little pricier than you had planned, spotting the Paul Smith umbrella cufflinks made the decision clear of what your main present to Mycroft would be. Glancing through the birthday cards, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the most ideally decorated one you could find. The front depicted two childishly drawn dinosaurs with the caption 'Stegasauryou + Stegasaurme = Stegasaurus'- quite frankly, it was the best birthday card you had ever seen in your entire life, and nothing would ever top it.

It was after your little shopping spree that you elected to head to the Yard, texting Greg on the way to see if he had a spare 10 minutes to sit in his office for a bit. Delighted, Greg had sent the confirmation of his free time and you ran to Costa on the way to grab a couple coffees- the stuff at the Yard settled at the thickness of tar.

---

"Never did get round to organising your desk then?" You grinned, wandering into Greg's office and shuffling stacks of paper aside to lay his coffee down. The evidently sleep deprived man cradled the travel cup in his hands immediately and sipped, caring not at the burning it left at the roof of his mouth.

"I'm lucky to have buttoned my shirt up right with the way these last couple of days have gone. But, at the very least, I've only got today and then I'm not back in til Sunday. Gotta count for something I s'pose." He took another sip and slumped back in his chair. "Cheers for that." He nodded towards the cup before hanging his head at the back of his chair.

"That bad without me, is it?" You teased, taking the liberty of blowing through the little hole in the cup before bringing it to your lips. Greg's noise back combined the sounds of affirmation and fatigue.

"That's not the half of it. Sherlock's been a lot more active the last couple days which has helped, but it's been heavy on papers. I've had to try and convince Sally to stay back most nights to help catch up on it."

"That sounds positively dreadful. Speaking on the witch, I take it that Donovan hasn't robbed me of my office since I left? If I find one grubby fingerprint, or one indentation of a cheap acrylic nail on my desk then not even Sherlock Holmes could solve the crime of her disappearance." You warned, relishing though in the small laugh that escaped Greg's lips.

"You'll be pleased to know that the only person to have gone in there since you've gone is Doris the cleaner. Though she's been giving me an earful of an evening at how dusty it got in there so quickly. I'd give it a week until she hands me a blue apron and a pair of marigolds myself."

"Lucky for you, you don't have another week without me. In fact, with your time off, you only have one more shift until I'm back- then the party can really start." You spoke, sending a joking wink in Greg's direction. "Though it's nice to know that the Yard can't function without me, I feel honoured. Always knew I was the glue to this place." Greg stuck his finger up at you from behind his desk. "First job upon my return: file report against DI Gregory Lestrade for unprofessional conduct in the workplace environment."

"Please do. I could do with a week's suspension. If it helps, I'll tell you to 'fuck off' and throw a pen at you when you leave."

"The perfect story, I'd say. I'll dabble on some purple eyeshadow as a bruise and you might even get stretched to two weeks." You laughed. "Or.. In your few days off you can take us up on the movie night offer. Myc's doing some work today to prepare for next week, but he'll probably be up for it on Friday? Gives you tomorrow to sleep and for us to-"

"Don't finish that sentence. I do not want to know whatever it is you and Mycroft do in your alone time."

"Bastard. I was going to say it gives us time to get some food and stuff in. I'll rustle up some dinner and then we can watch shitty movies the three of us will talk through anyway over expensive whiskey and cheap snacks. You get to relax after a long week, Myc and I get a nice end of week relaxation before work on Monday. Everyone's a winner."

"Now that just might be the best idea you've ever put forward." Greg grinned, rubbing his hands together at the thought.

"I do pride myself on my fantastic ideas." You glanced at the time on your phone and stood up. "Though I have surpassed our 10 minute chat limit and don't fancy getting moaned at by the Superintendent when I get back for wasting our time."

"Wasting? And here I was thinking you enjoyed our little chats. I'm wounded." Greg stood from his own chair and guided you to the front of his office, accepting your hug in goodbye and pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"I'm sure you'll get over it. Ooh, also, could you take these for me? Bring them back on Friday?" You asked, handing your couple of bags over to the man. "I bought Mycroft's birthday presents and I don't fancy him deducing them when I get back. I can run up and hide them on Friday."

"Yeah, that's fine.. In payment for my wonderful gesture, I'm sitting between the pair of you through the movies. No canoodling in my presence, please."

"I'm half tempted to do it on purpose because you used the word 'canoodling'."

"Don't push it.. Now go on, out, let me get back to my sad little papers at my sad little desk. Don't feel too sorry for me as you leave."

"I'm sure that won't be difficult."

---

You continued your leisurely walk around the city and perused through a number of shops for the next couple of hours before you received a text on your phone.

'Finished considerably sooner than expected.. Lunch? MH.'

Grinning, you sent back a delighted yes and headed over to the small cafe that Mycroft had suggested in a succeeding message.

You had been sat at a table in the back of the cafe for only five minutes before the sleek black car pulled out at the front, Mycroft emerging as gracefully as ever in his three piece. You said your hellos and ordered your meals before conversation headed to your days.

"The world heading into apocalypse in your absence?"

"Unfortunately nothing so exciting."

"Government officials taking part in more pissing contests?" Mycroft let out a laugh.

"That is, in fact, much closer to the ordeal..Had you found your office overrun by inferiors?" Mycroft asked, swirling the teaspoon in his cup of tea. You shook your head, a smile adorning your features.

"Thankfully not. Only a very tired Greg who latched onto a coffee cup like a moth to a lamp." You responded. "Speaking of, I've invited him over Friday for that movie night if that's alright- he definitely needs it. I was thinking about buying him something as a thanks for the last couple weeks too." Mycroft nodded.

"Of course it's alright, the man must have been running rampant without such a strong member of his team working alongside him. I have been having similar thoughts upon the idea of purchasing Gregory something for his efforts- perhaps we could discuss it later to choose the most suitable thing?" You agreed and began to notice Mycroft staring at you from across the table.

"What? Is there something on my face?" You asked, swiping a napkin across your mouth before he could answer. Looking at him again, you realised. "Deducing, really? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. You've just.. spent an entire morning in London to 'pick up a few things' and yet you're completely without bags."

"Well to save you the trouble, I was out getting you your birthday presents but I didn't want you to deduce what they were before Sunday. I've left them with Greg." Mycroft stared, unblinking. "Don't pull that face. I always buy you a birthday present, I've just bought a couple more this year. They're nothing major." Nothing. "Brilliant. I've broken you."

"Thank you."

"You don't know what they are yet. You might hate them."

"I couldn't hate anything you could ever give to me."

"It's a life size statue of Sherlock that has a motion sensor. Every time we walk past it, it says something very Sherlockian."

"..I could hate one thing you could ever give to me."