#anyway I’m on winter break I have time to draw !!!!

[dryya-doesnt]

Been a hot minute but here’s a quick doodle of werewolf marriage arc laurance as tribute 🫡🫡

Just got out of finals week I have time to draw !!!!! ( a lie.)

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖

under the mistletoe

lsu!joe x fem!reader

summary: you and joe can’t stand each other. what happens when your stubbornness meets his head on… underneath the mistletoe.

warnings: minors dni, 18+. cocky joe is always his own warning, kissing, spitting, p in v, semi-public sex.

word count: 4.3k

note: happy first day of fic-mas! what better way to start than with lsu joe <333

“yeah, i’ll be able to make it… i think,” you say into your phones receiver, struggling to slide your uggs on and talk on the phone at the same time. “sorry margot! i’m scrambling this morning!” you tell your roommate, turning her on speaker and laying your phone on the counter.

her cheerful voice fills the kitchen as she responds. “it‘s okay babe! i just heard about this party and we have to go to it before we go home for christmas this year! can you write it on the fridge calendar?”

as you listen to margot talk, you pop a k-cup into your keurig and begin brewing it, sliding your trusty travel mug underneath to catch all of the delicious liquid that you can only hope will get you through this day.

“yep, i’ll put it on there! december 21st?” you ask her, popping the cap off the dry erase marker that your white-board calendar holds.

“yes, that’s right. we’ll just have to watch our alcohol intake that night since we both have an early flight the next morning.” she laughs.

you write the event down and close the marker, placing it back in its holder. you fix up your coffee as margot continues talking, filling you in on the campus drama she’s already seen this morning.

“so anyways girl,” she raved, the smirk on her face evident in her tone, “i saw justin and joe this morning talking to the same girl. like get a grip. they’re probably having another weird competition again.”

you scowl immediately as you hear joe’s name. the quarterback and his best friend chatting up the same girl, how cliché. “god i cannot stand them!” you reply with an eye-roll, annoyance present in your voice.

you weren’t sure why you hated joe so much. maybe it was the incessant flirting he did with you and every other girl you knew. maybe it was how his friend group always made bets on who could “bag bitches” first, or maybe it was just the overly confident attitude that seeped from his pores. every class that you took with him, you dreaded, because you knew he’d be right there on his bullshit the whole time.

over time, he grew to dislike you as well, especially when he realized his advances wouldn’t work on you. you tried your best to avoid and ignore him, but he always made it difficult for you. he’d bump you as you passed by, knocking you and your books over into the floor. he’d stick his foot out in hopes that you’d trip. he’d send unsolicited dick pics just because he knew it’d piss you off. the joke was on him when you’d reply with laughing emojis or even the shrimp emoji.

margot laughed at your anger. “joe’s honestly kinda funny.” she says, only making you scowl even more. “oh am i?” you can hear him ask her, it becomes obvious to you that he’s made his way over to your best friend. “mhmmm.” she draws out, and you gag. you can imagine her twirling her hair around her finger as she flirts back with him. puke.

“hey princess, comin’ to the party?” he asks, clear that he’d taken margot’s phone. hanging up the phone on him is your answer. how could she be talking trash about him flirting one minute, and then flirting back the next. you roll your eyes for nobody but yourself.

you grab all your things and leave your flat, locking the door behind you as you head to class, ready to get the last few days before winter break over with.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

the days seem to fly by, which you’re thankful for, and you pack your bag at the end of your last class before break with a smile on your face. the party is tonight, which you aren’t really excited for, but you’re going for margot and to get at least a little tipsy.

you sling your bag over your shoulder and head out of the class, your stomach growling as you think of what you should have for dinner.

you’re lost in thought as you walk, and soon you’re running straight into a hard body. as you look up to apologize you realize it’s joe, so you close your mouth as quickly as you’ve opened it.

“damn, princess.” he chuckles, grabbing your elbows to steady you. “if you wanted a hug i could just give you one.” he winks.

“no thanks.” you say, shoving him off you. “i’m too afraid i’ll catch chlamydia or something.” his friend ja’marr laughs at your words and joe throws him a scowl.

“that’s not how that works.” joe snarks, raising an eyebrow at you. “but then again, you probably wouldn’t know, you’re probably a virgin.”

you stomp down hard on his toe. “actually no, i fucked your dad.” you retort, blowing him a kiss as you walk past, and farther down the hallway.

you don’t see justin and ja’marr losing their minds at what you said, falling into each other with laughter. you also don’t see how joe stares as you walk away, a mix of anger and pride written all over his face.

when you make it home, you can barely get your keys out before margot is throwing open the door and dragging you in, headed straight for her closet. she has about ten different outfit options laid out, and even some she’s selected for you, including a beautiful strappy red dress.

“help me pickkkkk.” she whines, rifling through all the clothes she’s strewn over her bed. you pick up a navy bodycon dress with shiny silver accents and hold it up to her frame, followed by a long, dark green dress.

“i’ve always liked how these two look on you, marg. pick one of them!” you say, trying to sound as chipper as possible. she holds them both up as she turns to look in the floor length mirror, examining them and trying to make a decision.

“ughhhhh, i don’t knowwww.” she whines again, and you’ve had enough. you snatch the red dress off the bed and race out of her room, headed for your own. you lock the door behind you, and you hear margot laughing as she knocks at the door.

“bitch!” she yells, amused at your antics. you step into your bathroom, hanging the dress on the back of the door as you slip your clothes off and turn the hot shower on. you tie your hair up, not wanting it to get wet, and you step under the hot stream.

the water hits your back pleasantly, the warmth working at the knots of stress you’d been holding in your shoulder blades. you lathered your body wash onto your loofah and began scrubbing, washing away the ick of your day.

you quickly check your body, rinsing before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower to dry off with your favorite fluffy towel. you lotion up, put on some perfume, and apply a quick layer of makeup - concealer, mascara, and lipgloss - before sliding the dress on and letting down your hair. the red fabric hugged your shape in all the right places, and you posed in the mirror as you admired just how good you looked.

you plugged the curling iron in and as you waited for it to heat up you ran out into your room to slide a thong underneath your dress, followed by putting on a pair of sparkly silver heels. you began curling your hair shortly after, and then you applied some hairspray, then a few accentuating pieces of silver jewelry.

once you were satisfied with how you looked, you spritzed on some extra perfume and unplugged the curler, wrapping the cord around it and shoving it back under your bathroom cabinet. you unlocked your door and went out to the kitchen to try and find a quick snack before the party. you settled on toast, popping a piece of bread into the toaster and pushing the button down.

margot stepped out of her room and joined you in the kitchen just as you were spreading peanut butter on your bread, and she spun around so you could critique her look. she wore the navy dress with black heels, and she looked incredible.

you took a bite of toast before speaking, “it looks great babe!”

she gagged as you spoke with your mouth full. “i can’t believe you’re eating that in a dress, my dress no less!” she scowled playfully.

“i like living life on the edge.”

you finished your food and washed your hands quickly, margot was ready to get out the door. you grabbed your phone and locked up, heading to her car so she could drive to the party. you left your phone in her car as you arrived, knowing you’d be staying sober and driving back home tonight. you had originally planned on drinking, but you changed your mind. leaving your phone was against your better judgment, but you did it anyway.

margot left her phone as well but she gave you her keys, knowing you’d be dragging her ass home tonight since you had to fly out in the morning.

as you walked into the party, you laid down the game plan.

“alright, let’s try to stick together, no unnecessary hook-ups. and please don’t drink too much. i’d also like to get home in enough time to sleep a little, and finish packing a few things.” you tell her.

she rolls her eyes and calls you a procrastinator before reluctantly agreeing. you head into the party, the loud music was already bumping through the house and making the floor shake. you knew this was a “christmas” party, but you didn’t expect anything less than rap music to be blaring throughout the frat house.

you stuck by margot’s side as she waded to the kitchen, ready to indulge in a few drinks. you politely declined all that was offered to you, and you kept a close eye on your friend as she began downing shots. after a few sips of liquid courage she finally wanted to dance, so she pulled you along until you were passing through the doorway into a giant room that had been transformed into a dance floor. red lights created a sexy scene, and a disco ball was hung from the ceiling, swirling around and creating a beautiful pattern along the walls.

unfortunately, you didn’t make it past the door. as you were headed one way, joe was headed another, and his friends blocked you both so neither of you could pass.

“the fuck are y’all doing?” joe asked irritatedly, shooting pointed glares toward his friends and to you. “seriously, move and let me through.” you said, just as angered.

justin and ja’marr laughed and smirked at each other, and you noticed margot giggling too as she pointed up to the top of the door-frame. hanging there, of course, was a bit of mistletoe.

joe spoke first. he shoved at justin, “dude, fuckin’ move.” he said.

you tried pushing past ja’marr, but he wouldn’t budge. joe shot you a dirty look. “come on, let’s get it over with then.” he said, annoyance very clear in his tone.

“hell no.” you refuse, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “i’d rather stand here all night than kiss you.”

joe’s face turns to what seems to be a genuinely offended expression, and he mirrors your pose as he challenges you. “oh yeah? alright then.” he says, sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brow as he shakes his head. “let’s stand here all night.”

you firmly place your back against the door frame as you make eye contact with him, and he does the same. margot is standing by with his friends, and all three of them are laughing hysterically.

“literally the two most stubborn people i’ve ever seen in my life!” she giggles, leaning on ja’marr’s shoulder.

“you think we need to stand and watch ‘em?” justin asks, looking over at margot. ja’marr answers before she has the chance. “nah, if there’s one thing i know about 9, he ain’t backing down from a challenge.”

“y/n’s the same way. she’d argue with a brick wall if it meant she could prove a point. she won’t budge until he does.”

justin laughs at their answers before ushering them off to the dancefloor, leaving you and joe alone to stare at each other with utter disgust.

you huff as you look at joe, and he smirks back at you, unfazed by your little display of attitude. people pass between you and stop to kiss under the mistletoe, on the lips, cheek, or forehead. the two of you also earn many dirty looks.

standing there is honestly easy - at first. the sheer amount of dislike you have for joe is what’s holding you upright, it has to be. you continue to shoot dirty looks at him, all of which he returns, but after a while your legs start feeling weak. you slouch, eventually falling into a sitting position, and you fix your dress along your thighs so nobody can see under it. joe takes the opportunity to tease you.

“just a quick peck,” he smarms, making a kissy face at you. “that’s allll it’ll take.”

you gag, mostly jokingly, at the thought. “i don’t wan’t your lips anywhere near me, burrow.” he laughs and shakes his head, continuing to stand there with his arms crossed.

you sit there for what feels like hours - it has to be hours, people are leaving the party now… and joe is still across from you, still crouched against the doorway. people have resorted to stepping over you both to get through to the kitchen, pecking each other happily as they cross. some of joe’s friends have tried to come save him, they’ve offered to kiss you so he could come play beer pong or hangout, but you won’t let them. you made this bet with joe, and you have to see it through.

you figured joe would break whenever a girl would come offer herself up to him, but he didn’t. he declined everyone that wasn’t you, and brushed all his friends off. you pretended that didn’t affect you… but the fact that he was doing all this because of some stupid rivalry you had with him turned you on as much as it pissed you off, not that you’d ever admit that to him.

as the crowd starts to dwindle down you get nervous, you really need to get margot and head home, but there’s no way you’re breaking and kissing joe. you look over and see her kissing ja’marr in the corner and you roll your eyes. joe seems kinda proud of his friend and a tiny smirk falls upon his lips.

you scoff.

“what’s your problem?” he asks you, sticking his foot out and kicking yours. “i really need to get going. margot and i have to fly out early and she’s over there sucking face. and i’m over here…”

“not sucking face?” he laughs, tilting his head slightly. “exactly.” you agree.

“look, if it’s bothering you that bad,” he shrugs, “i’ll give you a peck to get it over with. then you and margot can leave.” for a moment you think you can see a crack in that ‘fuckboy’ exterior. you aren’t sure you want to take him up on that offer, but you know neither of your friends will let you move from this spot if you don’t.

you think about it for a brief second, and reluctantly agree to let joe kiss you. you try to talk yourself down. i mean, it could be worse. at least he isn’t ugly.

“okay… fine. but you have to tell everyone you caved.”

“whatever you say, princess.” he lilts, already leaning in toward you. “don’t call me that, i hate it.” you snap, looking him firmly in the eye.

“why?” he teases, inching closer, “it’s what you act like. even now, getting your way so you can go home instead of standing here all night. you’re a spoiled little princess.”

you reach out your hand and place it on his chest, you definitely don’t want to kiss him now. that doesn’t stop him, though. he’s already almost there until finally, his lips are touching yours as his frame towers over yours a bit. you’re both still sitting on the floor, but joe stands up quickly and yanks you up with him.

your immediate reaction to the kiss is to squirm away, but joe doesn’t let you. he wraps his arms around your smaller frame and pulls you into him, caging you against his chest. his lips start moving against yours and after a moment, you start kissing back.

all the alarms in your head are going off, but you can’t force yourself to care now. joe is a really good kisser. your hands find their way to his hair, tugging slightly. joe pulls away for a quick breath.

“went from not wanting my lips near ya to tugging on my shit real quick, huh?”

you slap his arm, earning yourself a laugh. you wait for joe to lean back in, but he never does, and for some reason you feel hurt by it. you look over and see margot still occupied with ja’marr, and then you turn your attention back to joe. he takes in your expression before laughing, you look like a kicked puppy.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he teases again, sliding his hands back around your waist. “didn’t realize you liked me so much?”

“fuck off, joe.” you retort, but you’re laughing as you say it. you stand on your tiptoes to meet his lips again, and he obliges you. you move together in sync, and this time he keeps his hold on you, pulling you even closer.

“always knew you liked me, could fuck you under this mistletoe if i wanted.” he rasps. you moan at the thought. you aren’t sure what’s come over you. you didn’t drink anything… you aren’t usually desperate… maybe it’s something to do with the fact that joe said he didn’t want this just as much as you said you didn’t, but here you are both reveling in each other’s touch. it felt like you couldn’t get close enough to each other. he pushes your back against the doorway, finally moving his hands off your hips and tangling them in your hair.

the tip of his tongue dips into your mouth slightly, and you push yours back against his, sliding it along the roof of his mouth as you slip past his lips. before you know it, joe’s dragging you down the hall and into the first vacant room he can find before he’s throwing you down onto the bed and towering over you. you push up to unzip your dress, realizing you might want this just as much as he does, but he stops you by holding out a hand.

“nah, keep it on. slide it up.”

you do as you’re told, sliding your dress over your legs, wiggling your butt and arching your back so you can get it up over ass and hips. joe drinks in the sight of you, your smooth legs and gorgeous body. you’re insecure about yourself a lot, but he’s looking over you like a man starved as he licks his lips.

he doesn’t bother closing the door as he stalks toward you, pulling a condom from his back pocket with one hand while unbuttoning his pants with the other. you slide your panties down your legs and spread them open for him with confidence.

“fuck,” he gasps, watching as you dip your fingers down between your folds to gather some of your wetness and then you rub them in tight circles on your clit. you gasp as you touch yourself, your eyes following joe as he finally pulls his pants down far enough, fisting his hand along his admittedly large length. you always teased him about it in pictures, but it was big. he knew it, you knew it, half of the state of louisiana knew it. and to your dismay, it was prettier in person.

joe finally makes it to the edge of the bed, still watching you as you work yourself. you figured you’d be cringing at the lack of foreplay, or how his pants aren’t even all the way off, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he continues stroking himself before ripping open the condom and sliding it on. he gets on the edge of the bed by his knees and comes toward you a little, a hand extending out to run a finger through your heat and gather some of the wetness pooling there. he smears it all over his cock, and even though the condom is there, it still drives you crazy to see. “joe, come on before i back out.” you tell him, and you almost don’t recognize your fucked out voice.

the heat of the moment is so enticing to you both. his clothes are still on, pants down his legs halfway, and your dress is hiked up while you dig your high heeled shoes into someone else’s mattress. he finally leans forward and slides into you. you take a sharp breath, feeling more full than you ever have as he pushes in to the hilt.

joe barely gives you any time to adjust before he’s thrusting into you roughly. his lips find yours again and you gasp into his mouth. he pulls away slightly, allowing a drop of spit to fall from his lips into your mouth, which you take happily. you’re both moving sloppily against each other, but as joe brings his hand to your clit to flick his fingertips against it gently, you can’t bring yourself to even care. you’ve had sex with plenty of people and you’ve had orgasms before, but you’ve never experienced the euphoria joe is making you feel.

the warmth starts at the top of your head and it spreads throughout your extremities, into your fingertips and toes. you arch into him, your lips still moving together, and joe’s hips are still pounding into yours, shaking the bed against the wall. you cringe as you hear margot’s keys jingling in your bra. it doesn’t seem to bother joe.

with a few quick slips of his fingers over your clit, you’re cumming against him without warning, and harder than you ever have in your life. the tight squeeze around his cock as you cum is the catalyst for his own orgasm as he spills into the condom.

he pulls out of you with haste, ready to tie off the condom and discard it as fast as possible, hating how slimy it feels. just as soon as he’s moved you dart off the bed, grabbing your panties and slipping them up your legs before attempting to make a run for it.

joe pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking himself in and then runs after you, making it to the door before you. “pretty good, wasn’t it?” he jokes, and you roll your eyes at him before pushing past and walking back down the hall, headed for margot. he chases after you.

“okay, didn’t last as long as i normally would, but i mean, we could do it again, i could prove it. that was… you were…”

you press a finger to his lips as you pass through the very same doorway that got you into this predicament. your eyes study joe’s face as he nervously worries his bottom lip between his teeth. you’ve never seen him like this before, he’s shaken up, and you like that you’re the cause of it. you’d hate to admit it, but you would like to do this again. you point up at the mistletoe and joe takes the hint, pulling you in for another short yet sweet kiss.

“text me.” is all you say before walking over to margot, grabbing her by the arm, and dragging her out the door and to the car. you pull her keys from your bra and unlock it, opening the passenger door and shoving her in before going to the drivers side and starting the ignition.

margot slurs her words as she speaks to you. “wha’ happened? did’ya kiss ‘im?”

“i’ll tell you later, marg.” you say, eager to get home as quickly as possible. you park as quickly as you’ve pulled into the space and you help margot out, grabbing both your phones before you go inside, taking margot right to her room. she insists she’s okay enough to take off her makeup and undress, and she promises she’ll drink water before she falls asleep. you head to your room, shocked to see the clock on your phone reading 1:00am already.

you set yourself an alarm for six, and you undress quickly before sliding on some pajamas and settling in bed.

when you wake the next morning it’s to margot beating on your door. “wake the hell up, we missed our flight!”

you scramble out of bed, unplugging your phone and running out into the hall. margot stands next to her door, laughing at you as you panic.

“don’t just stand there, marg!” you shout, your voice laced with panic. “we’ve gotta get dressed, load our bags, call the airport—“

she cuts you off with a loud laugh. “relax, y/n.” she says between giggles. “we aren’t late. i just wanted to get back at you. how dare you sleep with the quarterback and not tell your best friend?” she shoves your shoulder.

you look down at your phone, realizing it’s only 6:10am. “bitch.” you laugh, running back into your room. you lock the door behind you again, and margot continues her laughter. “i need all the juicy details! literally every last second of it, you have to tell me everything!”

you weren’t sure how she even knew, even though you’re sure ja’marr probably texted her.

you roll your eyes at her even though she can’t see it as you head to your bathroom, ready to take a quick shower. you check your phone one last time before hopping in the water, noticing a text notification from joe, who you’ve affectionately saved as “fuckface.”

you don’t open it just yet, but you crack a smile knowing he’s messaged you already. what have you gotten yourself into?

all photos and dividers used are not mine. all credit to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter two

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 6.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from Yoongi's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of body shaming by Hybe executive, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, light fighting between members (literally crack), Namjoon has a little crush, Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions that make them finally start bonding (a little flirty too, hehe) 😉

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: CHAPTR TWO IS HERE! GOD...the slow burn exists outside the series too with me not updating for two months. I'm sorry guys but TYSM for your patience! I'm VERY excited to release this chapter bc I think Yoon & Oc are super cute, hehe. Okay anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Yoongi stands with his hands placed loosely on his hip, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. The seven of them had been practicing choreography for their new RUN BTS song nonstop when Jimin called for a much-needed, fifteen-minute break. There’s a part of him that’s thanking the younger for it and another that’s wishing he hadn’t, as every moment left alone with his thoughts is spent decoding his last encounter with you at the cafeteria.

Why had you made such a beeline for the exit the moment he was waved over by his member?

You also completely ignored his attempts to greet you on your way out. He only stopped by the cafeteria to slip an orange in his pocket before returning to his studio. He didn’t mean to intrude or incite that you had to leave with his sudden presence.

Taehyung assured him that you merely left to tend to work matters, which he’d typically sum as hyper-fixation with one’s work as he’s prone to do the same, but this felt different at its core. Your behavior seemed more intentional than that. The last thing he wants to do is misread the whole situation, but he must’ve done or said something to cause your uneasiness.

“Hyung, how did the album meeting go this morning?” A clear voice comes from Yoongi's left as his fellow band member, Namjoon, strides next to him, water bottle clenched in his fist. Like himself, large droplets of sweat dots around the man’s brow. The minor interruption shakes Yoongi out of his slightly dazed state.

“Went well.” He takes a big swish of his own water before screwing the cap back on. “We reviewed everything in three hours and the album looks better than I anticipated. There are a couple of promotional strategies that still need finalizing, but I’m pretty confident about it overall.”

“That’s great, man. __-nim’s been doing good work with TXT for the last few years, so she’s definitely suited for the job. I thought about requesting her help to promote Indigo but the timing of it all didn’t work.” Namjoon’s voice drops an octave at the last part, as if remorseful for more than a missed professional opportunity.

“Ah, maybe your next album hyung,” Jimin suddenly chimes in, slapping the taller man on the shoulder from the side. “I have a feeling you and __-nim would work well together. Think about it, you’re both natural born leaders and you’re smart too. I bet __ -nim has as high of an IQ as you.”

Namjoon’s cheeks flush with the faintest tint of rose as Jimin flashes a knowingly cheeky grin. Yoongi, of course, witnesses the entire exchange, the slightest part of him feeling uprooted by the thought of his band member and new marketing manager suddenly hitting it off. He decides not to comment on the matter, choosing to remain in ignorance instead. This is all speculation, right?

Now that they’re all on the subject of his album though, it gets him thinking that maybe he’s been too narrow viewed regarding the reason for your off putting behavior at lunch.

D-Day’s release has become a consuming priority lately, with everyone involved worked to the bone. Aside from himself, you’ve been bearing the brunt of it. He’s appreciative of course, considering the album holds a deep sense of meaning to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be perfect. A little pushback during the first proposal is natural, yet he did get more resistant toward ideas during this morning’s meeting than anticipated. Perhaps some of his nitpicking was unnecessary, adding to your already heavy load.

Yoongi’s head feels worse the longer he entertains the possibility. He doesn’t want to make the first time working together a complete whirlwind, especially this early. A strong, healthy partnership starts with trust, safety, and mutual respect. The same philosophy can be applied to relationships of varying natures. That reminds him—since when did Taehyung and you become so close? He’s been ruminating over it all afternoon, like a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve.

It’s odd how little he knows.

“I heard someone mention __-nim over here. I want in.” A small grumble leaves Yoongi’s lips as Jungkook pushes next to him, displeased by how tiny his space bubble has gotten due to the huddle his members have formed around him. Just why the hell is everyone so interested in his new marketing director? That's what he wants to know.

“Can you introduce me to her sometime hyung?" Jungkook pleads. "I’m thinking about releasing an album in the next year and it’d be great if you could hook us up…yknow?”

Oh, Yoongi knows. He knows exactly what this young buck is insinuating, but it isn’t mating season yet and even if it were he will do no such thing as to “hook them up”. Besides, his conscience tells him that you wouldn't be interested in the company of a younger man anyway—not that your dating life is any of his business or anything.

“Get in line Jungkookie, behind Namjoon. He needs her for his album first.” Jimin squeezes down on Namjoon’s muscular shoulders with both hands, shaking him just enough to hype him up. His hands are removed seconds later when he’s told to knock it off.

“That’s enough about this, okay? I’m pretty sure Yoongi-hyung is the only one who actually needs __-nim right now because, in case you dumbasses have forgotten, D-Day is set to release in April,” Namjoon scolds the two with a commanding tone. Jungkook, per usual, remains persistent in his original request and keeps his full attention on Yoongi.

“Anyway hyung, as I was saying, I know your album takes priority so I’m in no hurry to meet her. I can be pretty patient as you know-“

“Heh, that’s a lie.”

“Shove it Jimin, no one’s talking to you.” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together as Jimin snorts helplessly next to Namjoon.

“You shove it Kook,” Jimin counters. “And stop trying to date __-nim! Find your own woman!”

“I’m not trying to date her! She's my noona for gods sake! Do you think I’m oblivious to how the public reacts to idols dating? Also, __-nim is a Hybe employee, not an idol. I can only imagine the type of scandal the media would spin it as.”

“Right, we all know you actually just want to take her to your bed instead,” Jimin interrupts for the umpteenth time. “Our handsome leader, on the other hand, is interested in her professional abilities. We can learn a lot from him.”

“Why are you always trying to start a fight with me Jimin? Is it because I can take you, now that I've been building up more muscle?” Jungkook’s accusations earn him nothing more than a sea of eye-rolls until Jimin lunges himself towards him, puffing out his chest the best he can to size him up.

Namjoon rubs his face with a hand, a clear visual display of his exhaustion. He’s been moderating these stupid squabbles for nine years now. “Alright very mature, biggest boy band in the world and this is what it’s come to? Amazing, congrats to everyone for winning the award for most-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seokjin interjects, effortlessly shouting over everyone while waving his hands. “My brothers…why are we fighting over here like a couple of peacocks? We are all beautiful in our own, individual ways. Mine, for example, is my handsome face.”

“For the love of god hyung, we’re trying to settle something. Go take your inspirational pep talk elsewhere!” Jungkook bends his knees, swooping down to throw Jimin over his shoulder but he misses when the man starts tickling him ruthlessly.

“St-ah-stop it Jimin!"

“You stop it, you frickin’ brat! Trying to take advantage of our hyungs for your own selfish gain.” Jimin then slaps Jungkook on the ass which does not go unappreciated as Hoseok cackles from the other side of the room. Up until this point, he’s been scrolling on his phone, completely unbothered by the chaos. As Hoseok nears the action, Jungkook delivers a swift kick to Jimin’s rear end.

“Ow, what the fuck Kook?!” Jimin tries soothing the sting by massaging it with his hands. “You little prick!”

“Oh come on, I barely hit you. Gaining sympathy points won’t help this time, plus I see you trying to hide a grin. You think this shit is funny. You’re sick you know that?”

Jimin makes a move to return the kick to his youngest member but ends up hitting a far taller, and leaner subject instead. Taehyung, who just returned from the bathroom, throws a hand over his abdomen and grunts from the sudden impact.

“What is—shit Jimin that really hurt!” Taehyung’s baritone voice echoes off the walls as he winces from the pain. He takes a few deep breaths, then viciously eyes the two brawlers followed by the rest of the room. “What the hell is going on? I heard you all talking about __-nim from the hallway. Yoongi-hyung here is trying to kick off his album and tour, which we are supposed to be celebrating over drinks this Friday, but here you are arguing with each other and who has the biggest dick. Well, you can all put it away because as __-nim’s best friend, and number one wingman, only I’m allowed to set her up with someone and it won’t be with any of you! Sorry hyung…” he looks at Namjoon who appears to have brushed the comment off.

As soon as Taehyung ceases his mini-speech, eery silence sets in. Hoseok is the first to dare say a word.

“Uh, so what’s this about being her best friend Tae?”

“Yeah, I had no idea either.” Jimin quirks his head to the side, awaiting the details.

“Same,” Namjoon adds in a short breath.

“What happened to us, man?” Jungkook pouts at Taehyung, a total 180 from moments ago when he was in an unsolicited sparring match with Jimin. “You used to share everything with me. Now you’re holding out on me. Since when did you and __-nim start hanging out?”

Yoongi’s ears perk up for the first time since all the commotion began, curious to hear Taehyung’s response. He only recently discovered the blossoming friendship hours ago and even then, it was a brief inside look.

“I didn’t think to mention it but yeah, we started talking since her first day at Hybe. I bumped into her on the way into work, early morning for both of us. I expected her to be a bit on the reserved side, considering she was a new hire, but she was quite friendly. The more we talked, the more I felt like I knew her as if a childhood best friend I’d reconnected with.” Pausing, he wets his lips before continuing. “We share a lot of our meals together now, like our lunches during the weekday. Her food tastes amazing by the way. I think she missed her calling as a chef but it’s more than food— it’s a love language, a labor of love.”

“Wow, you two sure are connected,” Hoseok speaks first again, seeing the rest of his members working to process the new bit of info.

“Platonically, yes.”

“This’ll be good for Yoongi-hyung and his album then! No bad blood exists here!” Hoseok shifts his gaze between Taehyung and Yoongi, pleased with the outcome. The older of the two remains speechless, yet it’s far from a dazed expression. Yoongi is instead deep in thought, the wheels turning in his head.

So maybe it’s true that birds of a feather flock together, he hums to himself. The two of you seem to be social butterflies with a vase full of commonalities. He, on the other hand, prefers his solitude. That’s not to say he’s a hermit or anything though. Hybe hosts a company-wide New Year’s Eve party every single year and he’s made his best effort to attend them all. He mainly mingles with his members, but he still makes sure to small talk with other coworkers. Come to think of it, did he even see you at last year’s New Year’s Eve party?

He can’t remember much from the night except Seokjin scolding him for not wishing him a happy birthday the minute the clock struck midnight. He was a bit tipsy at that point. Taehyung disappeared soon after to make his usual rounds, stopping to chat with everyone in his path. Maybe he took off to talk to you during that time.

Okay, he really needs to stop thinking about you.

"Just to confirm, is everyone still on for Friday night to celebrate D-Day?" Jimin pipes. "I booked us a good place to have some food and drinks.

Taehyung nods, "I am, as long as it's not the same place we saw our CFO and his much younger date feeding each other. I couldn't eat for the rest of that night."

Jungkook fakes a gag before replying. "I'm sorry but does anyone know how is he still working here? Guy creeps me out."

"I swear, I couldn't agree more. Just yesterday he made an egregiously body-shaming comment toward __-nim to someone else on the board. She kept a brave front when she told me, but I'm damn tempted to get him removed from his position myself!" Taehyung's nostrils flare as he shares his frustration, fingers digging into his hips.

Yoongi takes a final chug of his water before abruptly tossing the bottle on the floor. A sharp crack resounds through the space, instantly commanding the authority of the room. “Fifteen minutes is over,” he gruffs. “It might be twenty minutes with all the bickering earlier. We don't have time to be talking about this anymore.”

“Come on now," Hoseok says. "Didn't you hear what Taehyung said? Our CFO really is a class-A jerk. I feel so bad that __-nim has to put up with his bullshit, she doesn't deserve it." His eyes frantically search the room, hoping to rally support.

"Don't worry about that asshole," Yoongi assures, "I'll handle it." He strides over to his choreographed position on the dance floor as if a leader in his own right, the rest of the members following in his steps.

"Just don't kill him, hyung," Namjoon says, resting a hand on the older's shoulder from behind. Yoongi merely snorts lightly in reply.

Yoongi is dead tired, his feet feeling heavier the minute he stands from his studio chair. He could have left hours ago, but here it is nearly 9:30 at night, and he's only just leaving the office.

As he shuffles down the hallway towards the elevator, he notices the eerie silence. It's thick, almost palpable. There's not a soul left in the building this late at night. When the elevator doors open, he leans casually against the metal rail, closes his eyes, and mentally retraces his day.

Overall, it was a decent day, he thinks, productive at best. Skipping dinner to work on his album tracks was an easy decision, but he might be paying for it now given the intense growling of his stomach. Despite his songs being considered perfect by his members, he can't help but tweak each one a final time. It's as if his gut tells him there's still a piece missing from the whole.

All at once, the elevator comes to a sudden stop. Yoongi's eyes shoot open, anticipation flooding his senses. Is someone still here? He listens intently, straining to hear any sound over the faint hum of the elevator. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, the elevator doors slide open to reveal an empty, dimly lit hallway. It's the 16th floor. He hesitates for a second, peering into the shadows, but there’s no sign of anyone. Strange.

Just as the elevator doors begin to close, Yoongi hears a distant, unmistakable voice. "Please hold the door!" you plead, your voice strained with urgency. He responds immediately, stretching out an arm to block the door. "Thank you so much," you say, slipping in beside him, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Yoongi watches as you enter, curiosity in his eyes. It seems you were of like mind tonight, working late and likely burdened by the extra work he caused for you. The feeling of tension is as clear as it was yesterday, lingering as a reminder of the unspoken discomfort between you both.

But then again, there's that issue Taehyung mentioned, looming in his thoughts. He hadn't realized you overheard the horrendous comment his CFO made about you. No wonder you hurried away from him like a bat out of hell yesterday; you knew he knew. He wouldn't dare shine a light on the situation and risk embarrassing you further; no one needs to relive such a belittling experience. Yet, he's wrestling with the right words to say.

"Heading home, Min PD-nim?" You surprise him by speaking first, voice firm with a touch of gentleness.

Yoongi allows a faint smile to tug at the corners of his lips, hoping it'll relieve some tension. "I am, it's been quite a day. What about you?"

You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. "Same here. Just had to wrap up a few things before heading out."

He hesitates for a moment, noting how you speak as if it were only a few minutes past five or six in the evening. "I understand. I was working in my studio up until now. I should be back up there tomorrow too," he says, then chuckles lightly, "Sometimes I feel like I should just live up there."

You return the subtle laugh and smile softly at him, your light brown eyes catching his dark ones. It feels like the same prolonged gaze you shared upon first meeting, yet now, it's somehow become easier; perhaps a hint of familiarity.

"By the way," he continues, seizing the opportunity, "feel free to call me Yoongi-ssi. I'm not that formal in case you didn't know." He playfully gestures to his casual attire; tan cargo pants, grey plaid button-down, and sneakers.

You seem hesitant towards the request at first, evident from your delayed response. "Are you sure?" you choke. "I don't want to over step my boundaries."

"There's no need to worry about that," he assures. "We're on equal level aren't we? If we're going to be working side by side for the next eight months give or take, I want us to feel comfortable with each other. Please, call me Yoongi-ssi."

"Okay, I might need some time to get used to that," you say, head nodding, "I'll try calling you Yoongi-ssi from now on."

"There's one other thing too," he pauses, "since we'll be working on D-Day's promotion from start to finish, I'll have many of my own opinions. It's a natural instinct for me, but I don't want to be a hinderance. I don't want anyone else giving you issues either, so I'd like to hear your full thoughts on matters, especially when it comes to important decisions."

"That means a lot Yoongi-ssi, thank you. I'm very grateful that you'd allow me to be a part of this and I'd very much like us to have an equal partnership. This is your album though, so I want to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves in the way you'd prefer."

Yoongi glances at the floor numbers displayed to the right of the elevator doors. Any second now and you'll reach the lobby. He wouldn't mind talking longer, but letting you both get a decent night's sleep is the far better idea at this point.

"I trust that D-Day is in the right hands with you, __ssi," he replies. "It's why I recommended that we work together to promote it in the first place. Bang PD was also confident in the idea. We don't doubt your expertise for a second." He pauses when the elevator doors slide open and allows you to be the first to exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

For the first time, you reciprocate the wish with a full, illuminating smile. It's not a professional one, Yoongi notes, its a real one—as genuine and sincere as his words. He takes it as a sign that the tides may finally be turning for the better. "You too," he hears you say before you push through the large revolving doors and step into the cool night air.

In the evenings that follow, Yoongi finds himself back in his studio as promised, a glass of whiskey in hand. He ultimately decided that if he was going to be here until all hours of the night, he might as well have a cold beverage to keep him company.

As he leans back in his chair, swirling the dark amber liquor in his glass, his mind inadvertently wanders to you. Were you downstairs again? Were you here with him? It would seem that given your unexpected late-night encounter in the elevator, the validity of the idea wouldn't be all that wild or far-fetched.

With each passing minute, as the clock inches closer to the late hours, he finds himself circling back to the same thought. It's as if the possibility of running into you has become a highlight of his night.

Just then, a deep and familiar voice interrupts. "Burning the midnight oil again, hyung?"

Startled, Yoongi looks up to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, a sympathetic smile on his face. Despite it being almost 9 at night, his younger member is nothing short of flawless in appearance.

"Yeah, working on my tracks," Yoongi replies, offering a small smile in return. "What are you doing here?"

Taehyung steps further into the room, hand tucked in his pocket. "I wanted to stay late to keep __-nim company, but I'm not sure how much longer she plans on staying tonight. I was on my way out when I figured I'd stop by to see you too."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me. Want a drink?" He offers, nodding towards the nearby whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," Taehyung declines politely, shaking his head. "I'll let you enjoy your whiskey in peace. Although, __-nim might take you up on that same offer one of these days. She has a strong taste for it, as you do. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't overdo it with your music, hyung, they're already perfect."

Once Taehyung leaves the studio, Yoongi's previous string of thoughts return to him tenfold.

So you really are here, he muses, and you happen to like the same throat-burning alcohol. Should he venture downstairs and offer a drink? No, that would probably be too much, and he wouldn't want to interrupt you. Maybe if Taehyung were accompanying him, but not alone; he doesn't share enough rapport with you to merit such a spontaneous drop-in yet.

No, he takes another sip of his whiskey, he'll see you tomorrow morning instead; during your morning meeting. But that gets him thinking—he's still yet to decide on whether or not he'll make an appearance on Fallon's show. He’d done it with his members numerous times, but this would be the first time doing it alone. His album would indeed benefit from the exposure, though.

"Damn it," he curses, raising from his seat. "I work my ass off. I work my ass off for it all!" He then sits back down, finishing off the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn soothing his frustration momentarily. With a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his music. "Damn it, I guess I'll do it."

If it weren't for his phone notification reminding him of his 10 am meeting on Friday, Yoongi would have missed it entirely. Normally, he never forgets important events, but several late nights in the studio had predictably caught up with him. He feels extremely sleep-deprived today, his memory more prone to blanking than usual. Waking up with a throbbing headache at 5 am, which hasn't dimmed in the slightest, doesn’t help either. Nonetheless, with only ten minutes to spare, Yoongi has no choice but to pull himself together and head downstairs to the conference room.

"Good morning, Min PD-nim," you greet him as he walks through the door. "We're about to start."

Yoongi drags out a chair and takes a seat. You look nice today, he notes quietly to himself. He makes sure to send a small smile your way before returning the warm greeting. "Good morning __-ssi," he says. "I told you we can speak informally didn't I?"

He waits for your response, easily tuning out the startled reactions from the rest of the team. Most high-ranking officials in the organization expected to be addressed formally by those in lower positions, but here he was, openly requesting you to speak as equals. It was almost unheard of during work hours. He was Min Yoongi, after all.

"Right, of course," you reply, "You'll have to excuse me, Yoongi-ssi. It slipped my mind for a moment."

Yoongi watches as you shuffle a few papers in your hand before continuing. "To get us started, I thought we'd discuss the decision to schedule a spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Will we be proceeding with this?"

"After mauling it over I think it's a good idea for the album. Do we have an idea of when this would happen?"

"Ideally after the album releases and around the time the U.S. tour begins April 26th. I say we aim for early May. Given Fallon's show's high demand, we'll need to get a jump on this as soon as we can." You shift your attention to your digital marketing and promotions team. "So-hyun, can you reach out to the producers and see what strings we can pull?"

She nods, scribbling a quick note on her writing pad. "We'll reach out today. I'll let you know as soon as we get a response."

"Excellent, thank you. I'm glad to hear you're on board with this Yoongi-ssi. It'll be a great way to promote D-Day and attract a global audience. The more smartly we utilize our resources, the better your album will be positioned in the current market." You take a brief pause to flip through your notes again. "Speaking of resources, we'll need to start booking magazine shoots and interviews. I'm proposing we run cover pages with Marie Claire Korea and Vogue Japan."

Yoongi would be taken aback by the flood of ideas and schedules you're firing at him, all within the first fifteen minutes, if he weren't already aware of your level of competency. This is exactly why he chose you, he hums to himself, your preparedness is impressive, but not surprising.

"I presume this will take place next year?" he asks. "During their spring issues?"

"Absolutely. We'll submit inquiries soon to get the ball rolling, but having the shoots completed now would be premature. Plus, it'll take some time before there are any openings with the companies. I think we should be consistent with tour dates and have Marie Claire go out in May and Vogue ready in August of next year."

"Okay, I'm fine with all that but we'll need to have something exciting released now, don't we? I know I start my weekly lives tonight, but shouldn't there be something more we can do?"

"I agree," you reply. "That's why I wanted to propose a brand new idea that came to me a couple of nights ago while I was drafting promotional content. Anytime idols release a new album or music, it gets published on YouTube, right?"

He nods, curious on where you're heading. "Right."

"Why don't we start a talk show with you as the host Yoongi-ssi? It can allow your fans to see another side of you, as well as the general public. We can invite your BTS members as guests where you can discuss music or past challenges that you've had to overcome—the choice is yours. To make it more interesting for viewers, you can have these frank conversations over a glass of whiskey or soju."

"I like the idea," he says, weighing it in his mind. "What would the timeline look like for this?"

"If we move forward with the idea, I suggest December 5th and we continue it for a max of two months. I know that only leaves us with just under two weeks to get started, but creating the set shouldn't take more an a day or a day and a half. We can also easily shoot a 30 to 60-minute video in an afternoon and publish it on YouTube the following week. Of course, a preview of the show will need to go out beforehand."

"Would we be able to invite other guests to the show? Outside of my members, I mean."

"Yes, feel free to invite whoever you'd like. We can start with the member for the first several episodes but ultimately, welcoming a variety of guests from the same or differing industries would be the goal."

"If I may." A member of the social media team suddenly joins the discussion, "I think Kim Namjoon-nim might be a good person to feature first since Indigo releases December 2nd."

Yoongi nods in agreement. "I can ask him."

"That would be fantastic, actually. If his availability is limited, we could have him guest star for the second or third episode instead," you add. "Hoseok released Jack in the Box this summer so we could have him be the first guest as well."

"Do we have a name yet?"

"Suchwita," you answer without hesitation. "It's a play on words with Daechwita."

"Suchwita..." Yoongi repeats, "Time to get drunk." He chuckles at the last few words, amusing the room, but you remain contemplative.

"How about Suchwita...time to drink with Suga, instead? It's simple and has a slight whimsical nature."

"Sure, let's use that," he answers, noticing that you've already begun jotting down the idea. "Yours is better."

Despite the adrenaline from the productive meeting with you and your team, Yoongi still feels the weight of his sleepless nights bearing down on him. His headache remains relentless and he is in dire need of a moment to himself. Once the team disperses, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way outside. The crisp, early morning air should offer him some relief, along with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches the building's designated smoking area, Yoongi takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag as he leans against the cool brick wall. As he exhales, watching the smoke dissipate into the clear sky, his thoughts drift back to the meeting. The idea of hosting a talk show, "Suchwita...time to drink with Suga," still lingers in his mind. It’s an intriguing concept, and he can already envision the relaxed, candid conversations that could come from it.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

"Oh, Yoongi-ssi," you say with alarm, obviously startled by his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll come back lat-"

"There's no need for that. Join me if you'd like." Yoongi watches as you hesitate to accept his offer, your feet already positioned to head back inside the building. "Seriously, there's plenty of room, and no matter what they'll tell you, I don't bite."

He allows himself to smirk as you carefully move beside him, only stopping when there is at least two feet of space between you both.

"Thanks," you say, pulling out your own pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "I needed a break too."

"Rough morning?"

"Just busy," you reply, leaning against the wall next to him. "But the meeting went well. We should be able to get the ball rolling now that we have a more finalized plan. I'm glad you liked the idea of starting Suchwita, by the way."

"I do," Yoongi says, nodding. "It has a lot of potential and I'm sure Namjoon will be more than happy to help us out. He's a natural at this kind of stuff. I guess it's why he's our band leader."

"You know you're good at all of this too, don't you, Yoongi-ssi?" You pause, taking a puff of your cigarette. "Even when you have a lot on your mind and a packed schedule, you have a knack for making people feel at ease. It's why I think producing Suchwita will be such a great way to connect with fans and other artists—you'll be the host."

He chuckles, appreciative of the remark. "You really think that? That I make people feel at ease? It's not what a lot of people assume."

"Nah," you reply, tilting your head up toward the clouds. "They're just on the outside looking in. Those who know you, who are around you and talk to you, will agree that you're a pretty calming presence."

"Well, I think we're not so different then." Yoongi shifts his eyes to your face, still looking up at the sky, and smiles softly. "So, what made you come to BigHit? Didn't you say you worked for Atlantic Records? That's a pretty good gig."

"Yeah, it was. I learned a lot there, and man, I was thrilled when I got offered the job as a brand manager. I've always loved music, ever since I was a kid. I could connect so intimately with the lyrics. Music is one of the few things that could soothe me during rough times, and it still does today. I'm sure you can understand."

Yoongi nods, intent on listening to your every word, intrigued by your story.

"Anyway, sorry about getting long-winded here" you chuckle. "I ultimately decided to move on when Bang PD reached out and offered me the marketing manager position for TXT. It gave me the chance to be a more integral part of bringing music to individuals who need it most. It's like we say, 'music for art and healing.' I'd never had the opportunity to manage a completely new set of musicians before either, let alone a group. Plus, being on the global marketing team? I couldn't turn it down."

"It makes sense why you joined us then, and I have to say, it's a blessing you did too. Music is a way of communication for me, a way I can best express my story. That includes my past, present, and hopefully future. After hearing all you shared, I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust with handling my album promos." Yoongi pauses a moment, unsure if he should ask the next thing on his mind. "How come we never met before? I mean really meet and talk?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. But things have a way of falling into place when the time is right, I suppose." You're now looking at him, the intensity of your gaze mirrors his own. A gentle breeze tousles a few strands of your hair and for a split moment, Yoongi begins to understand what Taehyung meant earlier when he said it feels like he's known you his whole life, like a childhood friend he'd reconnected with. While it may not be to that extent for himself, there's a comforting warmth emanating from you that leaves him feeling strangely tranquil.

"Given the circumstances, I feel like we should have at least met through Taehyung by now," he slips out. "Or even at a company-sponsored event."

"Why, do you like me that much, Yoongi-ssi? After five days of working together?" Your playful tease catches him off guard, revealing a side of you he hadn't seen before. It's kind of cute-wait, what?

"I-"

"Sorry," you quickly interject, feeling the need to backtrack. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"Don't worry, there's no need for apologies. And to answer your question, I like you enough." He hopes you can hear the tease in his own tone as he responds.

You both lapse into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird. He finds all of it soothing in a way he can't quite explain.

After a few minutes, you turn to him, your expression thoughtful. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a break, I'm here. We're teammates now."

Yoongi looks at you, his tired eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, __-ssi."

You give him a reassuring smile before pushing off the wall. "I'll let you finish your cigarette. See you later? And by later, I likely mean at 9 or 10 pm in our company elevator."

"Yeah, see you later," he laughs, watching as you walk back toward the building. He takes one last inhale, extinguishing the cigarette and letting the remaining smoke escape his lips slowly.

Yeah, he likes you just enough.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

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[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

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Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[beenoeila]

A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

[vendetta-if]

Hello

Winter break is over... and I'm not handling it well 🥲 (plz wish me luck).

But I was hoping that you could write (if you have time) some fluffy facts about Luka and Jackals relationship to counteract the soul sucking parasite that is school and work.

Thats all, hope you have a wonderful day! Byeeeeeeeee

Hang in there, anon and all the other readers 🥺 Time flies and soon it would hopefully be Summer break. And of course, I’d love to talk more about Luka and Jackal 🤭☺️

Luka was the one who ended up confessing his feelings first. It was not planned whatsoever, and one morning, he was just overwhelmed by his feelings and finally acknowledged it. (You can read the side story about it here [part 1, part 2]), if you haven’t 😉)

Even though Jackal has always been pretty insecure about the glaring scar on his lips, Luka has always been fond of it and tried to make Jackal feel more comfortable with it.

During the early days of them sleeping together, neither of them had ever stayed the night. Most of the time, it was Jackal who came over to Luka’s place instead of the reverse, and one night, Luka just grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting off the bed and leaving. Luka was the first one who asked him to stay and against his better judgement, Jackal relented.

Jackal loves laying his head on Luka’s chest and just listens to his heartbeat. His haemokinesis makes it easier for him to feel and listen to heartbeat and he is sure that he would be able to pick out Luka’s in a crowd of other people.

Jackal enjoys being the small spoon (not that he will ever say it out loud). It makes him feel safe and even though he’s more than capable of defending himself, it just feels nice to finally have someone he trusts so much that he can let his guard down completely.

Luka is on a mission to catch Jackal up on some movies that he likes and the ones that he thinks Jackal will like. Jackal’s not a film buff like Luka, but the thing he enjoys the most out of their movie nights is seeing Luka just talking enthusiastically about the movies. He thinks it’s cute that Luka has a dorky side that only he and some people Luka’s close to are privy of.

Jackal usually enjoys making simple breakfast for both himself and Luka whenever he wakes up earlier than Luka, like tomato and egg stir fry with white rice or steamed egg. Is also the one who first introduced Luka to the joy of eating instant ramen. (Jackal’s okay in cooking, but when he was living by himself, he rarely cooked and mostly just ordered takeouts).

Ever since Jackal spends more and more of his time at Luka’s place, Luka has started to pay more attention to what stuff are in his pantry and fridge. He wants to make sure that whatever food Jackal wants to cook or eat is available. Of course, since Luka’s mostly busy, he has relegated that task mostly to the house butler, Sebastian, who also takes initiative to learn cooking more variety of Asian food, specifically Chinese food.

Not sure whether this is fluffy, but I’m gonna include it here anyway 😂 Jackal likes to give Luka some love nips/nibbles hard enough to draw a little blood before kissing and licking it closed. Luka’s just used to it by now and just considers it Jackal’s version of giving hickies, but without actually leaving marks behind.

[bqstqnbruin]

The Party's Over, Go Home

Hello hello here I am with my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!

I had the pleasure of writing for @sc0tters I hope you like it!

Shoutout to @kat-hearts @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby for reading through this and getting mad at me :)

This is inspired by Intrusive Thoughts by Natalie Jane, Deserve by Jake Clark, and the Gilmore Girl's episode from season 5 called The Party's Over

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, family financial issues, this is angst, the spacebar on my computer is starting to break so typos (I tried)

WC: 11k

__________________________________

“We should do something tonight.”

“I was going to go to bed early, actually.”

“You do that every night.”

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“No,” Kendyl draws out. “You stop texting me by like, 8:30 every night. Your phone is on do not disturb half an hour later. Either you’re asleep early, or you’re ignoring everyone by then.”

Ellie narrows her eyes at her coworker. They still weren’t close enough that she felt she could comfortably hang out with the people she worked with outside of the workday. She had only been at her new job for a month, still getting the hang of things, trying to get to know people and figure everything out. Spending time outside her apartment with people who were practically strangers when she could be in her warm bed with her flannel sheets that she loved more than anything on this planet? “I don’t like that you picked up on that.” 

“Well, too bad,” Kendyl says, sitting down on Ellie’s desk. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, so why not?” Ellie hesitates to answer. “If it sucks, you can go home at ten. You’ll be in bed by 10:30, two hours later than normal. And it’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow for you to use that as an excuse as to why you have to get up early, and you already told me that the only thing you planned on doing this weekend was laundry and cleaning.”

Ellie let out a long sigh. Maybe Kendyl did know her well enough to be able to call her out on her shit already. “God.”

“I don’t know if you’re religious or not to know if that’s a yes.”

“Fine,” she says, shuddering at Kendyl’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re buying at least one round and I get to leave at 9:30 if I want to.” 

“Deal.” 

Ellie’s day was full of dread, from spending the rest of work distracted about having to go out with seemingly everyone at her job, so the stress involved with getting ready and trying to look like someone who was actually 24, not the ‘1980’s power boss bitch without the hair and shoulder pads’ as Kendyl had described her multiple times, even down to walking to the bar that Kendyl had picked that felt way too conveniently down the street from her apartment. 

“I’m surprised you even had someone convince you to go out,” her younger brother, Alex, says on the other end of their phone call. As soon as he saw Ellie leaving her apartment on Find My Friends, he called her panicked that something was wrong. “You never went out in college. I had to beg you to go to that one party the time I visited you.”

“That’s because you were still seventeen and Mom would have killed me if she found out you went.”

“She knew I was going to try anyway.”

“I’m going out because I was promised free drinks and the prospect of going home early if I want to. It’s not like I’m being forced to go out against my will.” 

“I promised you free drinks.” 

“Alexander.”

“Eleanor. Just be safe, ok? Let me know when you get home.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“If I were Mom, I would be yelling at you for not wearing a jacket.”

“How do you know I’m not wearing a jacket?”

“You never wear a jacket. Mom has been yelling at you about that since you were five.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, a sudden chill coursing through her when she realizes she can see her breath. “How is Mom, have you checked in on her?’

“Yes, Ellie.”

“In person?”

“Yes, Ellie. She’s good. At least, she says she is.” 

The two of them stay on the phone in silence for a moment, knowing what he really means. Ellie and Alex hated the topic of how their mom was doing, but if they didn’t talk about it with each other, who else did they have? Their mom and Alex still live in the same area even if Alex was away at college and living in a dorm rather than with her. Ellie was on the other side of the continent now, for a job that she barely had any friends at, in a city she still barely knew, surrounded by things she wasn’t used to. 

“Hey, I’m outside the bar now, I’ll talk to you later?” she ends the call, taking in one last deep breath before heading into what she was sure was going to be 

“You came!” Kendyl yells once Ellie finally manages to get into the bar. “Here’s the first drink.”

Before Ellie could even tell Kendyl she wasn’t ready yet to start drinking, the drink was pressed to her chest and nearly spilled down the front of her. Despite it being early enough in the night that no one should be drunk by now, Kendyl and the rest of her coworkers seemed to be well on their way with Ellie needing more drinks than she could count to catch up. 

The night goes by slowly, the drinks going away fast, and Ellie sitting in the corner while her coworkers, who are obviously close, talk about a bunch of inside jokes from before she was hired that Ellie was unable to participate in.

“Remember when he ordered the wrong cake?” Wesley slurs, punching Doug in the shoulder.

“I swear she told me to say, ‘Happy Retirement,’” Douglas defends himself.

“It was my 28th birthday, not my retirement?” Hazel says, everyone except Ellie bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What about when Sammy dialed 911 during the meeting?” Kendyl adds through wheezes, the remains of her drink nearly spilling on Ellie’s shirt, again.

“It fell out of my pocket and bounced weird!”

“How does a bouncing phone dial 911?”

“That’s the set up to a bad pick up line.”

“More like the setup to a story that makes no sense,” Ellie mutters, thankful that her coworker's howling laughter was too loud to hear her.

She gets up from the table, draining her drink on her way to the bar. It was only 9:15. She promised Kendyl 15 more minutes. The least she could do was down another drink in that time before pulling her classic Irish exit to go home and get in bed. 

“Rum and coke?” she asks once she gets up to the bar, the sticky wooden counter acting as anything but inviting for her to lean on. 

“Me, too, and put it on my tab,” someone says behind her, Ellie’s face immediately turning sour at the thought of some guy buying her a drink to probably get her to hook up with him.

“My friend is paying for it, actually,” she turns to him, surprised to find a seemingly innocent-looking guy around her age and not the middle-aged gross man she thought he would be. Anything was possible, and looks can be deceiving.

“Which friend, the one who almost spilled her drink on you or the one of the ones who have been ignoring you the entire night and letting you sit in silence while they have a good time around you?”

“I already don’t like you.” 

“My friends pointed you out and said you were me when they drag me out to bars.”

“So you’re the friend who they barely know and who they only invited out of pity?”

“That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” he says, the pink rushing to his cheeks as he turns away out of embarrassment. “Sorry, um. I’m going to go sit down now.”

“You haven’t gotten your drink yet,” Ellie points out, his sudden bashfulness making Ellie soften for him. “I just moved here. I don’t really know any of them too well.”

“I know what that’s like,” he tells her, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not from here, either?”

He shakes his head. “Born in Orlando, moved to Boston, then moved to Toronto, and kept going from there.” 

“That sounds unstable,” she says, passing one of the newly appeared glasses of alcohol to the guy in front of her.

He shrugs, lifting the drink to his lips. “Well, they say you are a product of your environment.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, the first one that she had let out all night. “That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” she repeats, the pink returning to his cheeks again.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Depends on how long we keep talking.”

“Hopefully it lasts past tonight.”

“It can’t if you don’t tell me your name. I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Quinn.”

Ellie loses count of how many drinks Quinn gets her, how long they’re talking, and when all of her coworkers leave the bar, not even telling her that they were leaving without her. 

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body, the bar getting busier the longer she and Quinn stood there. Someone shoves in between Ellie and whoever is behind her, pushing her into Quinn’s arms without her being able to catch her balance. His hand falls to the small of her back, spreading out to hold her steady. They stood there in silence, the rest of the bar a world away from them. 

“Are you ok?” Quinn whispers in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. 

Ellie stammers for a second, trying to process what just happened. The alcohol was making everything foggy, and the room starting to spin slightly around her as if Quinn was rocking her back and forth. “Um, I, yes?”

His eyes flickered down to her lips, the distance between them closing with each additional person, he was so close to kissing her. 

“I should go home,” Ellie says before he can, knowing that kissing him now would not be a good idea for either of them. 

His grip on her doesn’t relax, the disappointment Ellie expected to show up on his face not there at all. “I’m walking you home,” he tells her, slipping his hand into hers before she can protest. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” 

The difference in temperature between the bar and outside hit Ellie faster than she could process it, her lack of jacket her brother had scolded her for earlier biting her in the ass harder than the cold was in the moment.

Ellie didn’t even process Quinn taking off his own coat, the one she didn’t even realize he had been wearing the entire time, and putting it around her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. 

She was on autopilot, unsure how she managed to navigate her way to her apartment when her mind was on Quinn’s body pressed against hers. She just met him. She didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know what he did for work and only knew that he had two brothers who lived in New Jersey even though that wasn’t one of the places that he mentioned living before. 

“Here,” Ellie barely gets out, surprised with herself for managing to get back to the right place. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Quinn asks, shoving his hands in his pockets when he finally lets go of her. 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Ellie goes to take off the jacket and give it back to him, the warmth something her drunk self quickly realized she was going to miss. “No, keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Quinn tells her, pulling his things out of his pockets before turning away to head off.

She stands there for a few seconds, trying to process what had happened that night. 

“Wait, no,” Quinn says, appearing again in front of her. “I can’t leave without getting your number first.” 

“I couldn’t even tell you what my number is right now,” she admits, handing him her phone instead.

Quinn laughs, putting his number in. “I want to see you again, Ellie.”

She smirks at him. “We’ll see, Quinn.” 

___________________

“What do you mean you’re not bringing anyone?”

“No one said I had to bring anyone.” 

“Everyone brings someone. You have to bring a date to the holiday party.”

“Then why was one of the options on the RSVP ‘no’ to the question ‘will a guest be accompanying you?’”

Kendyl whines, earning a cringy look from Ellie. “You have no one you can bring?” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, leaning back in her desk chair. “Let’s see, I’ve been here for like, what, two months? I knew no one when I got here, I hate going out and don’t have anywhere to meet anyone, and somehow none of you here know anyone either. Who would I bring?”

“What about that guy you met at the bar that one time? I see his name popping up on your phone all the time.”

Ellie snatches her phone from her desk and holds it against her chest as Kendyl cranes her neck to see that her statement is actually fact, three messages from Quinn, a fourth appearing while they were talking. “You need to learn what a boundary is.”

“And you need to learn what the Focus feature is on your phone when you’re showing me things because his name always shows up.” 

She couldn’t invite Quinn to the party. She barely knew him, she couldn’t throw him into the party with a bunch of her coworkers who she also barely knew, putting her phone back on the desk without thinking. “He’s probably busy.”

Kendyl rolls her eyes, snatching Ellie’s phone from her desk before she can protest, fiddling with it while Ellie tries to process what could possibly be happening in front of her. “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He’s not busy.” 

“Ken, what did you do?” Kendyl hands Ellie back her phone, a quick conversation with Quinn on her screen, ‘Ellie’ asks him what he was doing the night of the holiday party and he immediately answers that he is free. “Why are you like this?” 

Kendyl shrugs, slowly backing away from Ellie’s desk. “You had fun talking to him at the bar, enough fun that he responded to you within seconds of being asked if he was free.” 

Ellie looks back at her phone as Kendyl finally leaves her alone. The whole idea of having to bring a date seemed archaic in a way that Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Why did she have to bring someone she barely knew to a party with more people she barely knew?

But she really did know Quinn better than she was letting on. She still didn’t know what he did with his life, him weirdly making her promise not to look him up, which made Ellie immediately question if he was a serial killer. He wasn’t, allegedly, but that still didn’t make sense. 

She knew that he was from the States, went to school there until he left early for whatever job he had. He has two younger brothers, and apparently is known amongst his friends for looking like he was having a nonstop existential crisis, while also being nicknamed ‘Huggy Bear.’ She also knew that he was sweet, and listened to her when she went off on a tangent about something, him following right along and matching the energy she had. She knew that she wanted to see him again every night since she had met him that first time, and that he wanted the same thing.

His name came up on her phone, a call from him. “Hi, sorry, it’s easier to talk than text right now.”

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Workout.” Must be nice to have a job where he can just go and work out in the middle of the day, Ellie thinks to herself. “So, the 18th?”

“Yeah,” Ellie lets out, suddenly nervous. It felt like she was asking him for something much more serious than just going with her to an office party. “It’s the holiday party for my company, and apparently everyone needs to bring a date.”

“And you want me to find you one?”

Ellie’s jaw drops at his comment. “No, idiot, I wanted to bring you.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was running through my friends who would go and none of them are good enough for you.”

Ellie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at his comment. Did he consider this a date? Was it a date? Was it bad if she considered it a date and he didn’t? What if he didn’t? Why was her mind running at a mile a minute while Quinn was there on the other end of her phone waiting for her to say something else? “So that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes. It’s one of the few nights I have off, I want to spend it with you.”

The next days went by in a blur, Ellie freaking out over everything from what she was going to wear, texting and calling Quinn even more, wishing that they could see each other sooner.

“It’s not obsessive, is it?” she asks Kendyl, staring at herself in the mirror. Kendyl insisted on coming over to Ellie’s place to get ready, telling her that her roommate had their partner over that night and the last thing she needed to do was try to use the bathroom to get rid when they had a habit of taking it over for more than a few hours.

“No, El, you just like him. I think it becomes obsessive when you start to stalk him and you show up to where he works unprovoked.” 

“Why do you say that like you’ve either done that or you’ve had that happen to you?”

“I’ll let you decide which one is better. What time is Quinn coming?”

“He’s supposed to get here in ten minutes.” 

“Just breathe, El. You’re going to have fun.” Kendyl left her to finish getting herself ready, her date already waiting outside to take her to the party. They could have all gone together, as pointed out by Kendyl, but it was better to not throw Quinn directly into the fire that was her closest coworker. 

Ellie’s phone starts ringing, not checking but expecting it to be Quinn calling to tell her he was early. She pops out of her seat to head to the door, picking up the phone and answering with an excited “Hi!”

“Eleanor?” 

Ellie stops in her tracks, her mom’s voice coming over her phone speaker. “Mom?”

“Sweetie, can you do me a favor?” 

Ellie felt her heart drop to her stomach, already knowing what her mom was going to ask her. It was the same thing that her mom always asked since she first got a job when she was in high school, every time she answered the phone while she was getting her degree, no matter where Ellie was in her life, it was never a call that a mother should have to make to one of her children this often. “Mom,” she lets out, knowing that she couldn’t say no.

“Please, Eleanor. I need the money. I, I-” 

“Mom, you promised,” Ellie cuts her off, not wanting to hear anymore even though she knew her mom would keep going.

“I thought I would get a raise before they sent the eviction notice this time.”

“Mom,” Ellie says, more exasperated this time. “You have to stop doing this. You do this to me every time.” 

“Alexander can’t help this time.”

Ellie heard a knock at her door, not even processing the fact that she should be looking through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a murderer, opening it, and letting whoever it was in. Thankfully, it was Quinn, waving him in and motioning to give her a moment.

“Alex is still in college, already struggling because you’re no help. He shouldn’t have to give you anything in the first place.”

Quinn stands there, clearly uneasy at listening to only Ellie’s end of the conversation but following Ellie into her room regardless. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed while he watches Ellie continue to get ready. 

“But you said last time that I couldn’t ask you again.”

“I didn’t mean for you to ask my little brother.”

“Eleanor, please. He’ll have nowhere to come home to. I’ll have nowhere to go home to.”

“What happened to everything you had last time I asked you?”

“It went towards all of the other bills, I promise. I’ll send you every confirmation for every bill I have.” 

“You’re not lying to me this time?”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“How many months did Alex cover?”

“Only half of one month.”

“How many months are you behind?”

“I swear I used everything I had to pay-”

“Mom, how many months are you behind?” Ellie knew she was raising her voice, forgetting that Quinn was even behind her. She stopped putting her makeup on at this point, knowing that the tears that were about to fall were going to ruin what she had already on, anyway. 

“Four.”

“Fuck, Mom.”

“Please?” her mom’s voice comes through, small and on the brink of breaking. “I know I’m still paying you back from last time. But what else am I supposed to do?’

“I’m sending it now,” she tells her, hanging up before her mother could say anything else. Ellie forgot Quinn was standing there in her doorway, putting her phone down on her vanity and putting her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

Quinn clears his throat, causing Ellie to jump. “Should I go?” he asks, creeping into her room.

Ellie wipes the tears from her cheeks, cursing herself mentally for now having to redo the makeup she already took too long to do the first time. “Uh,” she stammers, “No, no. I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Ellie,” Quinn kneels on the floor next to her, gently placing his hand on her thigh. “We don’t have to go to this.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“El.” 

Ellie finally turned to him, the genuine concern on his face causing her to burst into tears. He reached up and pulled her close to him, his one hand on her back, the other holding her head on his shoulder, letting her cry on his white shirt. She hears him let out a quiet shushing noise, trying to comfort her in the way she had needed for so long. She cried for so long that she didn’t know how much time passed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers when she finally stops crying, not moving from their position. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She never told anyone about the stuff with her mom. Ellie had been holding it in for years, going from friend to friend, place to place, never letting this out with anyone who wasn’t her younger brother, the one person who would understand and who she knew also understood what it was like. 

But there was something about Quinn. She thought she could trust him, for whatever reason. She never told her ex-boyfriends in college or high school, despite the fact that this had been going on since then. 

Ellie takes in a deep breath. “The only people who know this are me, my mom, and my brother, do you understand?” she asks him, watching him nod. “It started, I think, when my dad left. I was probably 10? Alex was 6, maybe?  I don’t even remember, honestly. This probably started before Dad left, Alex and I think it’s why he left. But our mother is absolutely shit when it comes to money. Like, put us in debt every few months that then somehow fell to us as her children to bail her out.” 

“God,” Quinn lets out, Ellie continuing over him.

“I think we realized it was getting bad when she told us we were moving somewhere smaller right before I was starting high school, out of the blue, when we had already moved to ‘somewhere smaller’ three times in four years. Normally she said she had been planning it because we, of course, needed somewhere to live, and she didn’t like where we were, but that was weird. I didn’t realize it was because we had been evicted every single time until I found the seven eviction notices my second year of high school from the last three times and a notice that we were getting evicted that year, too.”

“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” he tells her, pulling her back in for a hug. 

She sighed, knowing that there was nothing more he could say. “At this point it’s normal, it’s just still frustrating when she tells me and Alex that she’s fine and that she has the money for everything, and then out of nowhere, tells us she hasn’t paid the rent for her current place in four months. Like, do you know what it’s like to have your mother owe you nearly a hundred thousand dollars because of how much she keeps needing?”

“I can’t even imagine.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. 

“I’m glad you can’t. It fucking sucks,” she says, turning back to her vanity mirror. “God, I don’t even want to go to this stupid party anymore.” 

“Hey, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay here, we can go to my place, we can go somewhere else, we can do anything.”

“We?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie. I came tonight because I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn tells her, taking her hand in his. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you wherever you want.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Ellie, I want to be with you.” 

___________________

“Kendyl, I told you, I’m hanging out with Quinn and the rest of the guys tonight.” 

“Can I please come?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“But you’re dating the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks. You have to bring your best friend along with you.” 

“Alexander can’t come tonight either.”

“Ok, rude.”

Ellie was already nervous about meeting Quinn's teammates. It had taken a while for her to wrap her head around that he was not only a hockey player, but a professional one, and the actual captain of the team. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. She had heard so much about Elias and Brock that she felt like she knew them at this point. She hadn’t even met them. As close as she had gotten to Kendyl in the last six months she spent at her job, and as much time as they spent together outside of work when she wasn’t with Quinn, she didn’t need Kendyl mixed into the group. 

“Let me meet them first, then we can talk about you meeting them, ok?” she tries to assure her, hearing a knock at her door. “I’ve gotta go, Quinn is here.”

She hangs up on Kendyl before she can protest, slightly worried that she would use the ‘Find my friends’ feature to just stalk the house they were going to and end up on the doorstep uninvited. 

“Hi,” she opens the door, stopping for a second to take him in. God, she hated how hard she fell for him in a short amount of time. He was perfect to her at that moment. 

He pulled her in for a kiss, one that made her wish they were staying in rather than heading to spend time with his friends. “Hi,” he whispers, kissing her again before pulling away. “You look amazing, as always.”

“I’m wearing jeans and a sweater,” she counters.

“And?” He could say anything to her with that stupid smile on his face and make her swoon. “Ready?”

They head out to his car, Ellie’s heart racing as they get closer and closer to Thatcher’s house. She wasn’t great with meeting large groups of people all at once, despite being in a new school nearly every year of her awkward teenage years and being forced to interact with new people every time. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, resting his hand on her thigh as he drives down the highway, giving her a gentle squeeze to try to calm her down. “You’re going to like the guys. And they’re going to love you.”

“Yeah?” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 

“How could they not?” he asks, taking her hand and bringing to his lips, his eyes glued to the road in front of them so he couldn’t see her melting at his words and his touch. “You’ll get along great with Elias.”

“He’s the one from Sweden?”

“Yeah,” Quinn tells her, pulling into the driveway of a house so massive Ellie wasn’t sure people could actually live in it. It was certainly bigger than anything she could have ever dreamed of being near, let alone being invited to. “He’s got kind of a dry humor. You’ll like him.”

Ellie takes in a deep breath, feeling incredibly inadequate just getting out of his car and standing on the pavement of a place like Thatcher’s house. Maybe she should have invited Kendyl. 

Quinn takes her hand, pulling her along to the door when everything inside her was telling her to turn around and just run. There was no way she was good enough to be in this house, not with everything in her life, not when Quinn and his teammates had everything they could possibly want at the tips of their fingers. 

He stops at the door, pulling her close to him, dropping her hand, and cupping her face to kiss her again, calming her immediately. “Hi,” he breathes when he pulls away.

“Hi again. What was that for?” she asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, sending a shiver through her entire body as he traced her sides. 

“I’m going to want to do that so many times tonight, but I know the guys will tease us for it. I’ve gotta do what I can now.” 

That shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did. He could say or do anything at this point and she would melt. 

They go inside, the house loud and full of people despite Quinn telling her that it was just supposed to be a ‘small get-together.’ Everything in the house looked expensive, Ellie’s anxiety immediately spiking. She followed Quinn blindly through the house, all of his teammates talking to him and him introducing her to all of them while she stood there nearly mute over the sheer stimulus overload that was all around her. She barely noticed the drinks that found their way in hers and Quinn's hands, drinking once she saw Quinn drinking it, as well. 

“Elias is right over here,” he whispers in her ear, his hand still in hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as he leads her off into one of the side rooms. The room was quieter, the lights dimmer, and had a lot less people than any of the other rooms. 

“You got here half an hour ago and you’re just making it in here?” one of the guys asks as she and Quinn sit next to each other on the couch. “Ellie, you have to get him to go faster through the greetings next time. I cannot be left alone with Brock for this long.”

She looks at Quinn, confused as to how they already know her name. 

“You know I have to say hi to everyone, I’m captain.”

“As captain, you should be able to do one big greeting and let that be it so you can seclude yourself in a separate room where you don’t have to talk to everyone else,” one of the other guys said.

“Every time you talk, Brock, you add more to the long list of why you would make a horrible captain.”

“I would be a great captain.” 

“Elias, Brock, jeez.” 

“You know you can’t leave us alone for too long.” 

Ellie gets lost in their conversation, not even being able to contribute to what they were saying because their verbal sparring is so fast and so specific to their history with each other, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Quinn puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He looks at her while Brock and Elias continue bickering, smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. 

The guys interrupt them, jeering and teasing them to the point where Ellie has her face buried in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to hide from the embarrassment. “So, Ellie, what do you see in El Capitan here?” Brock asks, giving the most obnoxious facial expression possible.

“You do not have to answer that,” Elias tells her. “Brock has no idea how to interact with anyone, just ignore him.”

“That’s not true.” 

“You thought a good pick up line to use on a girl was ‘you dropped something, my jaw,’ the other night and then were shocked when she just turned and walked away,” Elias says, earning a laugh from Ellie and Quinn.

“You have definitely taken a girl out on a date and then talked about yourself the entire time,” Quinn adds, Brock shrinking further into his seat. 

“You look like the kind of guy that would go to a bookstore and pretend to look lost to see if a girl would talk to you,” Ellie adds, sending the guys into a frenzy. 

“He wouldn’t have to pretend to be lost,” Elias says, poking a pouting Brock in the leg. “You should come around more, Ellie.”

“She’s spent too much time with Quinn already,” Brock whines, Quinn pulling her so she’s practically in his lap, kissing her cheek.

“I told you,” he whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I need you to come around more, too.” Ellie turns to him, her cheeks burning before they both burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible.”

The four of them fall into an easy conversation, the three boys doing everything they can to make Ellie feel included, not shying away from teasing her like they were each other earlier. She felt comfortable. 

Ellie eventually excused herself to go to the bathroom and get more drinks for her and Quinn, the alcohol finally hitting her. She barely finds her way back to the room the guys were in, Thatcher’s house seeming much bigger now that she wasn’t sober and much harder to navigate without Quinn taking her around.

She didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, standing on other side of the opening without them seeing her.

“Brock, I swear, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t be able to blow your fucking nose,” she hears Elias say, stiffling a laugh as Brock mumbles something about not meaning to spill his drink on Elias.

“Anyway,” Quinn grunts, sounding like he was getting off the floor.

“Ellie is awesome, by the way,” Elias says, Ellie sure she missed some sort of segue that could have led the conversation from Brock to Ellie.

“She’s snarky,” Brock adds, Ellie hearing a smack and Brock letting out a cough. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

“I met her by accident but I cannot think about what it would be like without her now,” she hears Quinn say, Ellie trying to figure out if she actually heard him right. That sounded like he was much more serious about her than she thought he was. 

“Woah, Quinn,” Elias says. “You met her a few months ago.”

“God, I know,” she hears Quinn let out. “But you know how you just know sometimes? You run into this person one day and they just make your life better?”

“You guys made my life worse since I met you,” Brock mutters. “I say goodnight to her every night and I can’t wait until I can say good morning to her the next day.” 

“You’re a simp.”

“Can you blame me? She’s perfect.”

Ellie finally enters the room, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t just hear everything Quinn told his friends, the ones he told her he would trust with anything. It had to mean something that they already knew who she was before coming and that he could tell them those things unprovoked.

Quinn lights up at the sight of her, giving her another kiss and wrapping his arms around her when she sits down. “You took a bit,” he comments. 

“This house is confusing,” she lies.

Elias and Brock continue to bicker while ignoring Ellie and Quinn. Ellie eventually finishes her drink, along with the third one that Brock had managed to hand off to her at some point, sinking down so her head was in Quinn’s lap.

“How often do you think about the future?”

“I mean, I’m normally thinking about what I’m making for my next meal once I finish the one I’m eating.”

Ellie groans, their hands intertwined and in constant movement, suddenly regretting how much they had both had to drink. She looks up at him, a smile on her face despite the look on his that told her he had absolutely no thoughts behind those eyes. “Like, us in the future. Our future.”

“Huh,” Quinn starts, “I don’t know. I like us right now where we are.” 

Ellie nods, trying to hide the disappointment that she felt. Why could he tell Elias and Brock what he thought about her, but not tell her? He hadn’t even called her his girlfriend to her face, yet. Were they even boyfriend and girlfriend yet? Was it too early to even ask, or should she even ask at all?

They were staying over at Thatcher’s house at this point, neither of them in the position to drive, Elias and Brock electing to stay on the couches. Quinn pulls her up and kisses her, a yawn escaping her after he pulls away. “Want to head to bed? Thatch said we can snag one of the guest rooms.”

Ellie nodded, Quinns hand in hers as he lead her down the hallway. She should be nervous, the first night they were spending together completely unplanned and in one of his teammates house instead of somewhere special. 

But it was with Quinn.

She was fine.  

___________________

“When are you going to be ready?” 

“When I am.”

“You’re taking way too long.” 

“I am not taking too long, you got ready too quickly.”

“Kendyl, I took an hour to get ready to meet Quinn and his friends, and you started getting ready before I got here,” Ellie groans, lying down on Kendyl’s bed. The group chat Ellie had with Quinn and the guys was blowing up, asking where Ellie and Kendyl were. After meeting Kendyl a while back, Quinn was convinced she would be the person to set Brock straight. Ellie wasn’t convinced, but what was the harm of introducing them?

“I’m meeting a Canuck, tonight, El, I have to look good.”

Ellie sits up, looking at Kendyl in her mirror. She knew her friend was nervous. No matter what she could say, nothing would change. “I promise you, you could wear nothing more than a trash bag and Brock would be drooling over you.” 

Kendyl took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“Ken, you’re beautiful. You’re funny. You can verbally spar with anyone to get what you want at any time. If you decide you want something to happen with Brock, there’s no way he wouldn’t agree to it.”

Kendyl nods, finally getting up and grabbing Ellie’s hand and her coat to drag her out the door. 

“Are we sure we’re going to have fun?” Kendyl asks, the shaking in her voice something Ellie had never heard before.

“You sound like me now.” It was still winter in Vancouver, the below freezing temperatures combined with the warmest bar appropriate outfits they had not enough to actually keep them warm as they walked through the city to meet all of the guys. 

“What are they like? I only know Quinn.”

Ellie has to stop and think for a moment. How did she even begin to describe them? “I think you just have to wait and see. Quinn is nothing like them.” 

“Oh, my god, you hate your boyfriend's friends.”

“No, what?” Ellie asks, unable to hide her laughter. “I really like his friends. I’m getting closer with Elias and Brock is definitely good for a laugh when you need it.” 

Kendyl nods, both of them shivering as they walk. Quinn had such a warm jacket, Ellie thought back to the night the two of them met. She wouldn’t have been able to see herlife with Quinn coming. She thought Kendyl was just an annoying coworker, Quinn would be just a hook up, and that she would end up having to move home because of her mom and Alex. She never thought it would be this. 

They get to the bar after feeling like they were walking forever, Quinn making a beeline to Ellie as soon as they made eye contact. “God, I’m happy you’re here,” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Wow, you’re already drunk,” she points out, trying to push him away slightly. Quinn had told her they were going into a break in the season, so getting drunk was necessary. She had seen him a little drunk, more tipsy than anything, but never like this, and never in public. “Let’s get you some water, babe.”

Quinn lets out a giggle, slinging his arm around Ellie while she focuses on him instead of getting Kendyl over to Brock. She looks around the bar for her friend, or at least one of the guys to hopefully help her make sure he doesn’t go much farther than he already was with the alcohol. 

“Ellie, right?” she hears from behind her as she sets Quinn down at the booth in the back where the rest of the guys were seated. She turns around, one of the new guys in the office standing behind her, glass of beer in hand. 

“Uh, yeah, hey. Dylan, right?”

“Declan, actually,” he corrects her, a quick apology escaping her lips. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw Kendyl over by the bar and she mentioned you were here. I wanted to say hi.”

Even though it was darker in the bar, Ellie swears she saw him blushing, fidgeting and acting nervous in front of her. The guys didn’t seem to notice she was even standing there, but Declan seemed to be trying to take in everything about her. 

“Are you here with anyone?” she asks, feeling Quinn pull her into his lap, Ellie falling without an ounce of grace down towards him. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Quinn, and some of his friends.”

“Uh, hi,” he says, Ellie feeling Quinns arms wrap tighter around her as Declan talks, “I’m here with my roommate, but I lost him about half an hour ago.” 

“You should join us then,” Quinn says, moving him and Ellie further into the booth to make room for Declan. The tone in his voice told her he really didn’t want to do that. 

Kendyl finally comes back with drinks, Quinn taking the beer that was meant for Ellie and downing it much faster than he should have. Brock was already captivated by Kendyl as soon as she sat down, Elias rolling his eyes as he was making a fool of himself, Kendyl finding it weirdly endearing.

“So, Deacon,” Quinn starts, much louder than he should have been. “How do you know my girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Declan says, as caught off guard by Quinn’s sudden shift in mood as Ellie is, “I work with her. Just started about a month ago.”

Quinn nods. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a nurse in the ICU at Vancouver General.” 

“Couldn’t handle it, Derek?” 

“Quinn, what?” Ellie scoffs. 

Declan coughs, clearly getting uncomfortable fast. “It was a lot, so no. I liked helping people, but seeing traumatic thing after traumatic thing takes a toll on you really fast. So I went back to school and ended up with Ellie and Kendyl.” 

“Ah, a college degree.” 

“Quinn,” Ellie hissed. She didn’t like where this was going, Quinn holding on to Ellie like he was marking his territory. 

“I actually don’t have my degree, yet.”

“Interesting thing to brag about?” Declan says, nervously sipping on his beer. 

“Well, it’s hard to finish when you get called up to play with the Canucks, you know?”

Declan shrugs. “Is that the CFL team? I don’t follow sports.”

Ellie gets off Quinns lap, pushing Declan aside and dragging Quinn along with her. She didn’t need to hear what Quinn was going to say next. He was starting to act like a jackass and she didn’t want to see more. 

The two of them end up outside, the cold hitting Ellie like a slap in face. “What is wrong with you? He wasn’t doing anything for you to act like that to him.”

“I don’t like him,” Quinn pouts.

“You just met him.”

“I don’t like people who are trying to take my girl.”

Ellie can’t help but scoff. “‘Take your girl?’ What, am I your property? Did you get a good dowry? How many sheep did you have to give my family in exchange for your hand?”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ellie.”

“No, Quinn, you come on. He wasn’t hitting on me. He doesn’t even know me to like me.”

“Of course he likes you, Ellie, look at you.” Quinn takes a step closer to her, suddenly getting softer towards her. “You’re so pretty. You’re so smart. You know what to do with everything.” 

“If he likes me, that doesn’t matter,” Ellie snaps, still annoyed with him. “I don’t like him. I like you. I’m dating you. That should be enough for you to not act like an asshole towards him.”

Quinn hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“You should be saying that to him.”

The two of them stand there in the cold in silence, Ellie not wanting to budge and Quinn wanting her to go with him. “Come with me?”

Ellie bites her lip, her mood ruined because of him in just a short amount of time. “I think I’m going to go home. I’m tired, anyway.”

“Let me walk you?” Just like the night they met.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

They stand there for another moment, Quinn making the first move to pull Ellie in for a kiss. “I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie hadn’t been thinking about love with him yet. She wasn’t there yet. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him, turning and walking away, leaving him there on the sidewalk.

___________________

“Have you ever loved anyone?” 

“Uh, you.”

“Not that kind of love, idiot.”

“Oh, um. I was in love with Tess Virtue for a while there.”

“While I get that, I still don’t mean that kind of love, Alex.” 

Alex laughs on the other end of the call, Ellie getting ready for work while he got ready for class. “El, you’re the older sister here, aren’t I supposed to be asking you this?”

Ellie and Quinn were in a weird place since Ellie left that night. She had hoped that Quinn was too drunk to remember that he had told her loved her and Ellie’s response was just to walk away. She didn’t know if she was in love with him. She knew she wanted to be with him. She didn’t know if she loved him.

“I mean,” Ellie starts, not sure where to go. 

“Are you and Quinn ok?” Ellie tells her brother everything that happened, Alex staying silent for a few seconds after she finished. “Ellie, you did this last time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not to go psychology major on you,” Alex says, earning a groan from his sister, “But I think you’re more messed up from Dad leaving than you like to admit you are. You have what sounds like a solid relationship with this guy but you’re afraid that if you let him love you and you let yourself love him, that he’s going to leave just like Dad did. He left us with Mom and we never got that love back.” 

Ellie takes a deep breath. “Jesus. At least I know your degree is worth it.” 

“I could be wrong. I’m only six semesters into this degree, after all.”

“I hate you.” 

“I love you, too, El.” 

Everything goes back to her parents. There’s no reason she couldn’t love Quinn. 

She was in a daze on her commute to the office. Does she love him? Regardless of Alex’s psychoanalysis, even if their dad leaving them with their mom made her think anyone who would love her would leave, is she able to love him?

She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t know what it was like to love him.

“You look horrible,” Kendyl says, Declan trying not to make eye contact with her at their little desk clump, probably trying to not agree. 

“Thank you, for that,” Ellie huffs, dropping her bag on the floor before she falls into her chair. “I just had a weird morning. Don’t really want to talk about it.” 

The morning passes by in a blur, the menial tasks of her job at least giving Ellie something to take her mind off Quinn. Anytime her mind would start to wander, anytime she thought about him in any way, she would just switch back to work mode and force herself to do whatever it is she needed to do.

“Hey,” Ellie thinks she hears from behind her, someone sounding just like Quinn. She ignored it, figuring it was just her imagination and her officially losing her mind over what was going on in her relationship. “Babe?”

Ellie jumps, thoroughly surprised that Quinn was actually standing behind her. “I thought you were leaving for Florida today.”

Quinn pulls her up, kissing her hello, a soft look on his face that told Ellie that everything was ok. “We leave in a few hours, so I wanted to come by and surprise you. Do you have a minute?”

Ellie nods, following Quinn down to the lobby of the building. She knew that if she went somewhere in the office, Kendyl would probably have her ear glued to the other side of the wall of whatever room they were in to try to listen to their conversation. 

“So, you don’t love me,” Quinn lets out slowly, pausing a little between each word, breaking Ellie’s heart each time.

“God,” she lets out.

“It’s ok.” They stand in silence, what they had with each other when they first met already somehow dying off between them. “I’m ok.”

“I want to love you. You know I have other things going on that are messing with my mind. You know me.” 

Quinn rolls his eyes, Ellie taking a step back. “What, the stuff with your mom?” Ellie gives him a small nod. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Ellie,” he snaps.

Ellie recoils at his words, the person in front of her not the same one who told her would always be there for her when she needed him, that he would help if she would let him and that he wanted to be there, for her and with her, for everything. This was someone who wouldn’t do any of that. “It’s not an excuse. It’s my life, Quinn. You grew up never having to worry about coming home from school and learning that the lights were turned off, or getting scared that the heat would get cut off in the middle of the winter, or that you were two days away from living in a car,” she nearly yells at him, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry that it messed me up and I’m trying to fix it and at least be honest with you about it because I want to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you idiot. I want to be with you. But I don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone who stays. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who wants to stay. I think I love you, but I don’t think that my work is the place to figure it out.” 

Quinn smiles at her, hugging her and holding her tight, every part of her relaxing as he does so. “That’s all I need. That’s all I want.” 

___________________

“Ok, if we have to stay all night, then we’re ordering food.” 

“I never agreed to staying all night.” 

“Ellie, we have to get this done before we go home.”

“Yeah, but I have plans tonight. I’m not staying all night, extra pay or not.”

Declan groans, a stupid smile on his face. “Are you driving to these plans tonight?”

Ellie gets a bad feeling in her stomach, one that puts a smile on her face regardless. This project had forced them together much more often than Quinn probably would have liked if he found out. The client was demanding it be done three weeks faster than anticipated,which meant they had to get it done before Monday. “Nope. Why?” Declan gets up from the table the two of them and Kendyl are sitting at in the conference room to give them more space to spread out, running over to his desk and yanking one of the drawers open. “Dex, what are you doing?” Ellie calls.

The three of them had already been in the office much longer than everyone else, the rest of their colleagues having left early for the weekend while the three of them stayed behind.

Ellie had plans with Quinn that night for the first time in a while.

“Getting this,” Declan says, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts she was having about her relationship.

He holds up three plastic red cups and a bottle of rum, the one alcohol that Ellie could stomach without any mixer, a sociopathic tendency as Kendyl would call it. “Why is that there?” Kendyl asks.

Declan shrugs, popping open the bottle with ease and pouring way more than a single shot into each of the cups. “One of the clients gave it to me as a thank you.”

“We never get alcohol as a thank you,” Ellie scoffs, Kendyl agreeing.

“Men,” Kendyl rolls her eyes.

Declan laughs, raising his cup to Ellie and clinking it against hers, downing it in a few seconds as he watches Ellie do the same. Both of them cough, the liquid burning down their throats much more than they were expecting, neither of them breaking eye contact with each other while forgetting Kendyl was there with them. “Alright, we work until we’re done. We refill when we need to.”

Ellie smiles at him, the warmth of the alcohol already coursing through her. Her phone starts buzzing, a call coming in from someone whose contact she can’t quite make out. “No phones.”

The three of them get to work, the sun setting without them realizing it as their phones keep buzzing over and over again. They weren’t even entirely sure what the project was that their boss was asking of them, but then again, when were they ever?

They had to have been working for at least two hours straight without moving, feeling like they hadn’t even made a dent in the amount of tasks they had for the project. “I need to go home,” Kendyl groans, rubbing her hands over her face.

“We need to finish this,” Ellie points out.

“We need more alcohol.” Declan gets up, already somehow emptying the bottle into their three cups. He winks at Ellie, yet again ignoring Kendyl and sending a chill down Ellie’s spine before heading back out of the conference room without another word. 

Kendyl squeals once he’s out of earshot, shaking Ellie’s arm. “Oh, my god, he is so obsessed with you.”

“He is not,” Ellie insists, the heat running to her cheeks at the thought of her coworker liking her. She’s dating Quinn. Dating a coworker is out of the question. Dating Delcan isn’t even a thought.

“Ellie, I’m not even here when he’s around. You two are flirting so much.”

“I’m not sure you know what flirting is.”

“What about Quinn?”

Ellie’s stomach churned at his name. “Quinn and I are fine,” she tells Kendyl, trying to ignore how high her voice got involuntarily. 

“El.”

“Ken.”

“You’re lying to me.” Ellie bites her lip, hating that Kendyl knew her well enough to tell. “What’s going on with you two? You were off last time I saw you together.”

Ellie sees Declan out of the corner of her eye shifting around the desks outside the conference room. “I have no idea.” Kendyl stays silent, Ellie feeling like she has to fill the space. “We see each other less and less now, part of it because of both our jobs right now.”

“Well, that makes sense, that happens.”

“But when we do spend time together, we don’t say anything. We barely talk anymore at all. It’s like we ran out of things to say.”

“Who has nothing to say?” Declan interrupts, plopping down in his chair with another bottle of rum.

“Ellie and Quinn. Why do you have another bottle?” Kendyl asks.

“I have many bottles. Who’s Quinn?” 

“Ellie’s boyfriend.” 

Declan just nods, giving Ellie an uneasy feeling as they both take a sip of their drinks again, the eye contact between them mixed with the alcohol making her mind spin. “We’re just going through a weird phase right now. We’ll get through it.”

Kendyl recaps what Ellie told her, unprompted, to Declan, who infuriatingly just sits there, the alcohol making him look way too attractive for Ellie’s liking. “You don’t want my opinion, do you?” he asks.

“Kendyl gives me hers all the time when I don’t want it, you might as well give yours.”

“You’re both busy. That happens.”

“See?” Ellie prods Kendyl. 

“But,” Declan starts again, Kendyl sticking her tongue out at Ellie like a child, “Being busy could also mean not being willing to make time for each other.” 

Ellie took in a deep breath, hating what he was saying. It wasn’t like he said that much, but he said enough. The room suddenly felt too small, the work too overwhelming, the alcohol hitting her all at once. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, practically running out of the room. 

Are she and Quinn not making enough time for each other? Are they just ending their relationship without saying that it’s over? She didn’t think she wanted to break up with him, but at this point, what was staying with him doing for her? 

Ellie looks at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol distorting her perception of herself or if it was the mirror that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but she didn’t look like herself. She looked off. She had felt off for a while, but she had no idea why. 

Was it because of Quinn? Ellie had heard that to be loved was to be changed, but what happens when you don’t like how you’ve changed? How much should she fight to get things back to the way there were when they first started seeing each other? What has to happen for her to just give up instead?

“Hey, sorry,” Declan startles Ellie, causing her to lose her balance and stumble against the sink. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”

“No, uh,” Ellie starts, wiping a tear from her cheek she didn’t even know had fallen, “You didn’t upset me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Declan’s voice is gentle as he takes a step closer to you, waiting for her to nod. “If you aren’t happy, why are you still with him?”

Ellie shrugs, not wanting to look at him. If she looks, she’ll fall apart. “I love him. I do. He knows me better than anyone. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone outside of my family, not even Kendyl. But sometimes,” she takes in a breath, her voice shaking. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all for nothing. We have no time for each other anymore. I see Kendyl more than I see him.”

“Ellie,” he says, his voice low as he steps closer to her. She was sure he could hear her heart racing. 

She was dating Quinn.

Quinn.

“Oh, fuck,” Ellie practically yells. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 8:30.”

“Quinn was picking me up at 8:15.” Ellie runs from the bathroom, leaving Declan calling after her. She grabs her stuff from the conference room without saying a word to Kendyl. 

She hears Declan in the background, calling after her as she runs down the stairs, dropping things in the stairwell that she doesn’t bother to pick up. She was rattled, Quinn already waiting for what had now become twenty minutes without her so much as texting him back the entire time.

Declan catches up to her, everything she’s dropped in his hands when she bursts through the front door of the building, Quinn’s car at the curb with him leaning against it scrolling on his phone. He looks up, his eyes going between his disheveled girlfriend and the one guy that she talked to that he was worried about, equally out of breath and carrying her things, both of them looking panicked.

He could tell Ellie was drunk. He knew she was drinking with him.

“What is this, Ellie?” he asks, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice as best as he can.

Ellie starts stammering, the alcohol not helping her at all. “We were doing that project I told you about, we lost track of time. I know I’m late but I wasn’t looking at my phone so we could finish as fast as possible.”

Quinn takes in a deep breath, looking up to the sky so he didn’t have to see her reaction to what he was about to say. “Ellie, I know he likes you. I told you likes you the night I met him. And, I know you like him, even if you don’t realize it yet. What am I doing here?”

Ellie steps toward him, her legs starting to shake as she tried to process what he was saying. “Quinn, you’re taking me out. You said we were meeting the guys tonight.”

“No, Ellie. I am. You’re gonna stay here.You’re gonna finish the project. You’re going to spend the night with Declan. You should be with someone who has time for you.”

“Quinn.” 

“We’ve both been busy. We’ve both had way too many things going on to focus on each other. We deserve better. You deserve better.”

“Quinn,” she repeats, standing right in front of him. She reaches up to his cheek, him leaning into her touch as he finally looks at her. “What are you saying?”

“You know, Ellie.” 

They stand there, forgetting Declan behind them and ignoring the world around them. Quinn cups her cheeks, kissing her like he did the very first time. “Bye, Eleanor.”

“Bye, Quinn,” Ellie whispers, not wanting to let go. 

Everything happened so fast. Ellie stood on the curb, wanting to drop her things right on the sidewalk and chase after him as he got in his car and drove away. She didn’t move as Declan came up behind her, gently putting his arm around her to try to comfort her. She didn’t hear him say that he wanted to get her back inside so that Kendyl could be with her, so that she’d have someone she trusted to talk to after what just happened.

She just stood there. 

___________________

Quinn was miserable. The guys were all with their partners, while Quinn sat in the middle with no one by his side. All he had was the beer in front of him that he didn’t even want to drink. 

He should be happy. They were already having a great season. They had already secured a playoff spot. The team was playing to have fun and winning was coming because of it. 

Brock comes up to him with Kendyl, the two of them still going strong. Quinn liked Kendyl, but seeing her still reminded him of Ellie, even if the two of them didn’t work together anymore. 

“Come on, buck up. There are plenty of girls here that you could at least talk to,” Brock tries to encourage him.

Quinn just shrugs him off, slowly turning the glass of beer around on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to be there, but there was no way the guys would let him leave this early. 

Brock leaves to get another round of drinks, Kendyl staying behind. “She’s doing ok, you know,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

Quinn sighs. “I miss her.” 

Kendyl puts her hand on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

They sit for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. What do you say to someone who was still broken over something that should have never shattered in the first place?

“Hey, isn’t that that Dexter guy you work with?” Elias comes over and asks, pointing to the other side of the bar. 

Quinn feels the air escape his lungs, Ellie and Declan together, Declan holding on to her as a guy moved past them, pressing their bodies against each other. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to drape her arms on his shoulders, getting up on her toes to kiss him, their foreheads pressed together when they pull away while they looked at each other like they were the only people in the world. 

“She’s happy,” Kendyl says. 

“She’s happier,” Quinn corrects her, his heart breaking at the fact that he couldn’t do that for her. 

[sionisjaune]

Mika/Nico 2004 Arctic Rally flirtation on the occasion of @blorbocedes ‘s birthday!

Mika is stripping down to his thermals when the kid slinks inside his cabin, bundled in a thick winter coat, tufts of blonde hair poking out underneath a knit hat. He bites the inside of his cheek, manufacturing a reason to grimace instead of welcoming Nico into his arms like he used to do when he could still call himself innocent. 

“Not your cabin,” says Mika, tugging off a sweaty glove and tossing it on the countertop.

Nico shuts the door behind him and braces himself against it, nose red from the chill outside. His entire face, or at least the part visible between the collar of his coat and the hem of his hat, is chafed red and blotchy. He licks his lips, and Mika’s gaze lingers on the chapped and wind-bitten skin of his mouth. 

“My dad snores,” Nico mumbles. “Just wanted to get some rest—”

“No,” says Mika, immediately. He knows what Nico’s going to ask of him, and he knows that if Nico asks it outright, he’s going to say yes. 

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” says Nico, pouting rather childishly. Mika wonders what it says about him that he finds Nico’s worst moments attractive.

“No,” says Mika again. “Go back to your room. Cabins are for competitors only.”

Nico tilts his head, still tucked against the door in his coat. Mika watches him shuck his scarf and toss it haphazardly on Mika’s sofa. “I could compete,” says Nico. “I’m good on the ice.” 

“You’re not—” says Mika.

Nico cuts him off, a sparkle in his eye. “Old enough?”

“Used to rally,” Mika finishes. “It’s an entirely different sport.” 

“Really?” says Nico, eyes widening. It’s obvious what he’s doing. Mika strips off his other glove and lets it happen anyway, peeling his racesuit down his chest to hang around his hips. Nico makes a parallel move, drawing the zipper open and shimmying the coat down his arms to reveal a tanned neck and collarbones, the result of a half-Finn unaccustomed to his native climate. Mika doesn’t know why Keke bothered to drag him to Lapland to spectate. “Explain it to me,” says Nico. He drops his jacket on the floor and joins his scarf on Mika’s sofa, curling his legs underneath him.

“First of all, you have a co-driver in the car with you,” says Mika. He tugs the racesuit the rest of the way down, pulling it off his ankles one leg at a time. He was going to make use of the cabin’s meager hot water tank and shower off the sweat sticking to his skin, but with Nico around it’s probably best he keeps his clothing on. 

Nico shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself as if to stave off the cold. “I could handle that. I already have an engineer in F3.”

“It’s a different relationship,” Mika corrects. He can’t help but fall into this avuncular role with Nico, like Keke is still in the room.

“A relationship,” Nico purrs, learning over the edge of the couch. Mika bites the inside of his cheek, wondering where Nico learned this from. He stalls for time by folding his racesuit into a neat little rectangle and setting it on the countertop beside his gloves. It reeks of stale sweat and the ankles are damp with melted snow, but if Nico minds he doesn’t say anything. 

Mika sinks into the armchair opposite Nico and watches Nico furtively scoot towards the end of the sofa closest to Mika. His bare arms are startlingly skinny against the thin fabric of a white singlet. The faded jeans make him look like a ten-euro hooker, even though Mika knows Nico doesn’t wear anything that costs less than a hundred. 

“I bet you disregard your engineer all the time,” says Mika.

“No I don’t,” says Nico. 

Mika gives him a meaningful look. 

“Fine,” says Nico. “Sometimes. But only when he’s wrong.”

“Ah,” says Mika. “The difference is that your co-driver cannot be wrong. You trust him implicitly. If he says full-throttle, you don’t break until the finish line.” 

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I can’t picture you taking orders from anybody.” 

Mika raises a hand to massage his temples. “When I need to,” he says. The hand in front of his eyes conveniently blocks his view of Nico curled up on the corner of the couch, but he can still hear Nico twisting and fidgeting around. 

“Tired?” says Nico. 

“Yes,” says Mika. 

“Me too,” says Nico. He shuffles around on the couch again, and then seems to still. A moment later, Mika feels him plop down on the arm of the chair next to him. He drapes his long legs over Mika’s lap and leans close to his ear. Mika removes his hand from his face just in time for a lock of Nico’s hair to fall in his face while Nico murmurs in his ear. “And I’m cold. It’s fucking freezing in here.” 

Mika bites the inside of his cheek again. The flesh is getting raw, like it always does around Nico. 

“Nico,” he warns. 

“What?” says Nico. He’s completely irreverent. 

Mika shifts to create more space between himself and Nico’s skinny frame. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what?” says Nico.

“You know what,” says Mika. 

“I just want to warm up,” says Nico, curling closer. 

“I have to race tomorrow,” says Mika. He can hear his own voice wavering.

The corners of Nico’s mouth curl like a cat toying with its prey. “Nothing that will make you sore.” 

Mika exhales, rubbing his temples again. “Not even pretending anymore?” 

Hearing his permission, Nico slides into Mika’s lap and surrounds him like his limbs are made of putty. He wraps his arms around Mika’s neck and attaches his mouth to the skin above the collar of Mika’s thermal shirt. “I don’t need to,” he whispers. “Besides, don’t you want to see what I’m wearing under this?”

[misguidedasgardian]

The winter sun (8)

8. A way to a man’s heart

MASTERLIST

Summary: You were trying…. hard

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoif customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), a liiiitle angst, a liiiiitle fluff, might miss some warnings

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.6k

Notes: HAHAAAA they are just two babies trying to do right by the other. This is a pretty tamed chapter.

As you were sleeping peacefully, you were awakened by the door opening, you jumped and sat on the bed, covering your almost transparent night shift with a wolf fur. And there he was, Cregan, this time, he was only wearing a long sleeve black shirt and leather pants, and he looked so handsome

“I was an idiot!”, he claimed

“You are not an idiot my lord, why would you think that?”, you asked

“How could I ever leave you alone on our wedding night? My beautiful bride!”, he said over excitedly, walking towards the bed, he leaned in and encased your face with his big hands, and then he leaned in and kissed you tenderly, and also passionately, you couldn’t identify what passion might feel like, until you felt butterflies in your belly.

“I’m going to make you mine”, he whispered against your lips, “I’m going to give you my children, would you? Would you have my children my sweet princess?”, he asked and you nodded enthusiastically

“Yes!” You said excitedly, “I’ll give you babies!”, he chuckled against you lips, he separated from your and took his shirt off and then, he ripped the furs off the bed to uncover you, and jumped all over you, taking your lips in his with hunger, his hands traveled south in your body, arms down towards your hips and waist, you felt his hands everywhere his lips ledge your mouth and traveled down your cheek to your jaw, drawing lazy kisses, and then his wet lips arrived in your neck, to a certain point that made you see stars as you closed your eyes.

And then….

AND THEN

You woke up with a gasp, so hot you were sweating, the fire still lit up and furs covering you. You were gasping, trying to regain your breath, and you felt so uncomfortable between your legs… you couldn’t quite pinpoint it

But you got cold pretty quickly…

Cregan had rejected you, he didn’t bed you, he didn’t take you. He didn’t plant his seed, he didn’t give you his children…

And you felt that sixteen year old all over again, but now, it was your husband who didn’t want you.

You drew a shaky breath, thinking about how you were going to explain it to the people, did you have to anyways? Where was Cregan now? Should you go down to the hall to break your fast? How could you face him now?

You didn’t now what to do.

Based on the position of the sun and the noises coming from the courtyard you guessed that it was an adequate hour to rise from the bed.

You looked at the sheets, the unblemished, unblooded sheets. Here it was the North, it was different here, nobody was going to wonder if Cregan deflowered you, if they would, he would have done something…

And after a faint knock, trough the door appeared a young maid, with a smile and an apology she entered bringing a wooden tray with a breakfast, bread, cheeses, jams and some more thing

“Good morning my lady”, she greeted, it was the first time somebody called you that, a lady, you were a lady now

“Good morning”, you greeted back

“Lord Cregan has asked me to bring you breakfast, he has gone with other Lords to the Wolfs wood to hunt”

“You are too kind, thank you”, with a shy smile she left the tray at the feet of the bed and then she left you. You had your breakfast alone and in silence, it was more bitter, and the flavors were stronger than any breakfast you could have in King's Landing, always with sweet wine and fruit, but you were going to get accustomed to it, you were certain.

 “How is the new lady of winterfell?”, Sara entered the room with a cheeky smile, “I hope you don’t mind, I saw Cregan galloping away I guessed you were alone”, she muttered, and you smiled inviting her in

"It's fine, I'm glad you are here", you said, happy to see her

“Sooo…. How was it?”, she asked, “are you alright?”, you debated in whether to tell her or not, but as you looked at her, you revealed yourself, “he didn’t fuck you did he?”, she said, anger taking over her features, “that craven!”, she said

“Is not his fault, it was probably me”, you whispered, playing with the long strands of the Wolf fur

“You? No possible way!”, she said, “it’s him, he is too nice, he probably didn’t dare because he didn’t want to bother you or something” 

“But I want to be bothered!”, you said, looking up at her

“Perhaps you could tell him that!”, she muttered

“No way!”, you said, “how could I tell him that? I want you to bed me?”

“Yes!”

“No!”, she seemed to think about it, her dark blue eyes looking at the bedding for inspiration, she sighed

“You need to warm him up!”, she said

“Like… touch him?”, you asked

“No silly, be attentive, charm him!”, she suggested, “be a little flirty”

“That might work”, you said, hopefully, he might be your husband, but you barely knew each other , but… “but what if it is me?”, you asked her

“It’s not”, she whispered, and you looked down, not quite convinced 

What if he resided after he married you how inadequate you were? 

Where you? 

Sara helped you dress, and then you two adventured outside your room, you found your aunt Rhaenys breaking her fast in the great hall

“Good morning my dearest”, she greeted, “how was your night?”, Sara was about to speak, but you spoke first

“Great, he was very nice and gentle”, you said with a shy smile, and it scared you how fast and simple that lie came out. You didn’t want her to know you weren’t able to bed your husband

“Good”, she said, pleased, leaving the dark ale she was drinking in the table, “now that I made sure everything is going smoothly, I need to get back to Driftmark”, she said with an apologetic smile, you just looked down and nodded, “I leave you in good hands, with Sara and Cregan”, she said gently, and Sara beamed 

“Thank you for coming”, you said, “you don’t know how much it meant to me”

And between hugs and kisses and promises of visiting each other, you and Sara waved Rhaenys goodbye, as she took fly on Meleys and got lost amongst the northern clouds.

But nothing could prepare you for the news that you received when you entered back into the castle 

“My lady, there is some unfortunate news”, the maester came to you, slowly but surely, you looked back at him in wonder

“What is it? Is everyone alright?”, you asked, and he chuckled

“Yes my Lady, everyone is fine, it's just… we receive a raven from Harrenhal, and apparently your things suffered an awful accident”

“My things?”, you asked, puzzled 

“The caravan with the three carriages that were carrying your things, they had been completely destroyed”, he said, looking down at the floor in front of him

“What?”, you asked, perplexed

“The caravan was going through Harrenhal, when a dragon, I would not know which one, burn it down”, you didn’t know what to say, as you looked all over the room

“Was anyone hurt?”, you asked then, “the soldiers and servants?”,  he smiled gently

“Everyone was alright princess”, he said, and you nodded

“Good”, you answered, “I don’t understand who would have done this”, you muttered

“It was night my lady, nobody could see very well, the carriages were placed in a shed in Harrenhal during the night and well… they only heard the roars, and saw the flames”

“I see”, you whispered, looking down, “thank you”, you said with a shy smile on your face, the maester nodded, and left the room

You felt a tickle in your nose, indicating you were about to cry, but then you felt silly, crying over material things but… not only were dresses and such, there was also objects, things you had or were gifted to you by your father, or other members of your family, you had nothing with you, and now, all your things were lost. 

Who would have done something like this?

And the answer came easily at you

Aemond

He was the only one capable of doing something so awful and uncalled for

But the question was… why?

Why would he do something like that?

“I’m so sorry”, muttered Sara, caressing your arm, “is there anything I could do?”

“I don’t have anything to wear and use”, you whispered

“We can go to Winters Town”, she suggested, “we can find things there, not as nice as you can find in Kings Landing but… we can get the basics”

“It would be nice”, you whispered smiling shyly 

“Let’s go then”, you needed to be cheered up and you were glad Sara saw that, Rhaenys had left and your things were a pile of coal, so you could use a day in the town that you had yet to see

You put on the boots that you used for riding your dragon under the gray dress you used the second day here, and you put on the cape that Sara had lent you, and both of you adventured outside Winterfell’s walls.

As you were entering the town, you put on the hood of your cape, it wasn’t that cold, but…

“You don’t need to hide here”, Sara giggled, and you removed the hood instantly, relieved 

“Sorry, force of habit”, you laughed

“You didn’t go out of the Red Keep that much?”, she asked, amused

“I didn't actually”, you confessed, “the couple of times that I did I had to hide”, you giggled

“Did you committed some mischief?”, she asked suggestively 

“No no”, you answered giggling, “I was just curious, I always left the Keep in the daylight”, you tell, and she smiled gently.

You noticed you were being watched by the people, but you looked back with a smile, and when they saw you smiling, that smiled back, greeting you

They know who you where and who you became yesterday

The dragon princess was the new Lady of Winterfell

“The small stores are this way”, she muttered, taking your hand and leading you, “I also know Winter’s town got a load of new textiles yesterday, we will be the first to see them to make some nice dresses for winter!” 

“My Lady of Winterfell”, a nice old lady grabbed your hand as you were walking by, “I’m so pleased to meet you”, she greeted with a crooked smile

“Oh, thanks”, you muttered, blushed and nervous

“You are so beautiful”, she said, “you are kissed by ice”, she said pointing to your hair

“You are so kind”. you whispered

“may the gods bless you, my child”, she leaned in and kissed your hand, and then she waved you goodbye, leaving your heart warm and a smile on your face

“I thought the Northmen were weary of strangers”, you said, sounding as excited as you were

“But you are not a stranger are you?”, Sara said, “you are their lady, the Lady of Winterfell”

And it finally sank 

You were the lady of winterfell

You finally arrived at a store, only identifying as such with a worn out sign

You came in after two knocks on the wooden door

It was a nice man, who opened the door and when he looked at both ladies he opened his eyes widely

“My-my ladies! I’m very sorry… your grace!”, he corrected

“I am a Lady kind Sr”, you said gently

“Welcome to my fine stablishment”, he said

“We would like to see some fabrics”, said Sara gently

“Of course, you will get the first view of them”, he muttered

They were thicker fabrics than Kings Landing, certainly, more simpler, but warmer. Muted colors, not shiny reds, not silk, or chiffon, or Tull, but wool based and cotton.

Simpler, but warmer 

You bought with your purse as many as you could to make a dozen dresses for the winter, and the nice man promised to bring them in the morning to the castle as he was accustomed 

You dared to buy fabrics to make some clothes for Cregan as well, as Sara suggested, she used to make clothes for his brother, as it was his preference

You continued your shopping, it was midday and as Sara said, merchants and salesmen showed their products outside, in small market place

The greetings continued and people seemed more weary of you, but you could see they knew Sara and they liked her, so as you greeted them as well, they also seemed quite relaxed.

“Ohhhh salmon!”, you admired, watching the big fishes splayed over a table in the fisherman’s post

“We eat a lot of it here”, Sara said

“In king’s Landing as well”, you muttered

“Good morrow my ladies”, the nice man greeted

“Good morning”, you said back

“We would like some salmon”, started asara

“Only the finest for the ladies of Winterfell”

“You can cook it for Cregan!”, Sara said, excited, “he really likes salmon and this last weeks we have been eating meat in excess”, and you blushed

Cook for Cregan

Seemed so nice, so he can warm up to you, you loved that idea 

You bought some cakes and that was it, you returned to the castle after you bought a hair brush, and some other things. You almost whimpered when you remembered that you had also lost your jewelry, necklaces and rings from your late mother that your father had bought from her family for you, and also, jewelry he inherited from his own mother, Alyssa Targaryen  that he saved for you. He never got to see you wearing her ruby earrings and matching necklace and ring. 

 The ladies of the north from what you could gather, didn’t use much jewelry, but it still hurt. Still, you bought a small wooden box to keep things. 

Oh… your books

Then you remembered the Library of Winterfell was one of the greatest in the Kingdoms and you had yet to see it.

You came back to reality when you were entering Winterfell again.

“Now, you will have to convince the cook to let you make the salmon without her help”, said Sara cheekily, “and that won’t be easy”

“What? Why?” You asked, amused

And here you were one hour later, chasing the cook around. She was a tall and big woman, with big eyes and rough factions. As Sara told you, she used to be a wildling North of the wall

“My cooking not enough for princess?”, she asked roughly 

“Is not that I don’t like it”, you explained, “is just that I want to cook for Lord Stark, myself”, you said gently, the old lady gazed at you, squinting her eyes, and finally, she smiled

“Ahh you want baby”, she said cheekily

“Uh?”, and then she put on a naughty face

“When I cook for husband, he gave me baby!”, she said with a knowing look. Sara burst with laughter, and you blushed scandalously, “cook way to man’s heart!”, she said pointing at you with the wooden spoon she had in her hand.

“Yes”, you admitted, “I want a baby”

“Good girl”, she said, and left the kitchen, letting you do your thing

“I never cooked for anyone before”, you said, amused, as you gaze at the salmon displayed in the big wooden table in the Winterfell’s kitchen

“I think is sweet”, Sara said, “Cregan will be back in a couple of hours we should start”

“Do you have these herbs? Dill? Thyme?”

“Yes!”, you giggled, excited, as Sara ran along the kitchen searching for the things you asked of her. Lemons, a little bit of pork fat to cook it… it was fun

It took too long, longer that you need it, but you had only saw the cooks prepare it, you had never did it yourself

And soon you heard the castle coming back to life, as front he kitchens you could hear the huge gates being opened, horns blowing announcing the arrival of the hunting party

“They are here! Cregan must be hungry!”, Sara cheered, and you, with a smile, finished the dish by placing a pinch of salt on top of it. “Hurry!”, she helped you serve it in the great hall, accompanied by ale, you placed two plates, so you could eat it next to him, you set the table as well, and you finished placing a fork just in time as he walked inside the hall.

You looked at him and stared in wonder, he looked even more wild than he used to, messy hair, snow flakes still over his shoulders, the snow was becoming greater each day that passed

“Welcome!”, you greeted, and he nodded at you, “look what I made” you said with a excited smile, “is not as good as the ones prepared by the cooks in Kings landing but I think is pretty good”

“You don’t have to worry about me”, he said, simply, looking at the table, “I’ll eat what we hunted, enjoy the salmon dearest, I bet you miss it”, he said he leaned in and kissed your temple, and just like that he left the great hall. And it broke your barely mended heart.

“That idiot!”, cursed Sara, coming from her hiding around the corner.

“That man a brute!” Cursed the cook, following after her, “just like late father!”

So… you didn’t just get rejected again by Cregan, but also, you somehow insulted his hunting, he now may think you didn’t want to eat whatever he hunted in the Wolf’s wood.

Great job

So Sara and you sat down to share the salmon and ate it as the cook brought you dark ale and sat with you as well, bringing a fork with her and you invited her to “dig in”. Cregan appeared again in the hall, and watched the scene, intrigued, but you believed that if you looked at him, you may cry.

“Thelma, I was wondering if you could help us with the rabbit stew”, he asked of the old woman seated by you

“No” she said simply, and you couldn’t help but giggle, “you should have eaten salmon!”, she chided

The night found you in your room, or rather… Cregan’s room, even though he didn’t want to bed you, you refused the idea of abandoning the chamber. You had, deeply rooted within you, customs and manners from court, and you truly believed that a lady living in a separate chamber from her husband was truly something awful, it meant that your husband didn’t want you, it would give the people something bad to talk about, about you.

So you had put on your night shift and sat in front of a mirror to brush your silver hair, that Sara had braided for you that day. You were interrupted by a hard knock on the door, after, the door just opened and Cregan was there, in the door frame, looking at you

“Good evening my lord”, you greeted, stopping your movements, your eyes wide open, like you just saw a ghost, an apparition right in front of you.

“Cregan, you can call me Cregan”, he said gently, and you nodded, “Sara told me you went to the town today”

“We did”

“I heard what happened to your belongings”, he said, and you looked at him expectantly, “I’m very sorry, it will take time, but I want you to know we will replace everything”

“There is no need”, you said

“We can send word to King’s Landing’s maesters, woodworkers, librarians, jewelers”, he listed, and you shook your head slightly

“Sara and I just bought fabrics to replace the dresses, the books, well, I bet I can find better ones in the library here in Winterfell, I had read them all anyways, other things I can buy, like this brush”, you said looking at the one you just bought, “it’s alright”

“The jewelry”, he said, truly concerned

“I’m afraid that can’t be replaced”, you muttered, :”but it’s fine I got my grandmother’s necklace with me, and my father’s ring”, you said painting at your finger, “and my mother’s earrings, it’s all I need”, and he smiled softly, and nodded

“Very well”, he admitted defeat. He gazed at you then, and you got nervous, “you have beautiful hair”

“Thank you my… Cregan”, you corrected yourself

“Sara and Thelma gave me a hard time today”, he started, and you looked at him in wonder, “they said you cooked for me, and I rejected you”, you looked away from him, embarrassed 

“It’s nothing”, you whispered grabbing a string of your hair and playing with it, trying to conceal your nervousness

“I’m very sorry, I thought I just caught you off guard and you had made that for yourself, and you were just trying to be nice”, he explained

“And I am sorry I rejected to eat whatever you hunted”, you apologized, “I didn't think it through”

“It’s alright, whatever I hunt in those woods it’s whatever we are going to eat for all the winter to come”, he said, amused, and you giggled, “would you make it for me, another day? the Salmon I mean, Thelma said that is one of the finest things she ever ate”, and you raised your eyes to look up at him

“I’d love to”, you said, overexcited

“Very good”, he said, “I’ll leave you then”, he turned to leave, again

“Wait!”, you called, and he stopped on his tracks and returned to look at you, “y-you can stay, i-if you like”, you said, and you wanted to pinch yourself because you sounded way more hopeful than you should have, “it is your rooms after all”, you said 

“You can stay here”, he said, “are you cold?”, and you shook your head, “good, good night little dragon”, he said, leaning in and kissing your temple, like he used to do since yesterday

“Goodnight”, you answered back, and you watched him leave. This time, a little more hopeful, you were on the right track.

You hoped. 

more notes: trust me when I say I can't believe i'm writing some sort of "slow burn", I usually jump right in, just be patient I promise it will be worth it

taglist! @severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker @lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine

[valhallaas]

Love Me Tender

pairing: jake hangman seresin x artist!reader

word count: 2k

warning: none, only fluff

summary: when the greek god in your bed knows you better than you know yourself

a/n: this is for @roosterforme’s love is in the air tgm challenge! Thank you for letting me be apart of it. Writing soft Jake really did something to my heart, let me tell you. I hope you guys love it!

Rain pitter patters outside. It’s two in the morning, you should be asleep but it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. How did Atlas do it? Bear so much weight, but never broke. Your knees are starting to buckle from the pressure. You asked for this, of course you did. There isn’t anything you’d trade it for. Turning your head, a satisfied smile rests on your lips. I’ll make it baby, he said. I’ll make it all night. Jake lays next to you, his breaths deep and even. You’d picked him up from the airport not too long ago. You’re sure he doesn’t even know what day it is. He’s just happy to be home. You’re happy to have him home. 

Slowly, as not to wake him, you shift your covers and climb out of bed. A nice fire and a cup of tea sounded perfect to go with the rain. It’s not like you were getting any sleep anyway. Rubbing at your eyes, you make your way to the living room not bothering to flick on any lights. You’d been in this house long enough you could map it blind folded. Turning on the kettle, you made your way to the back sliding glass door to grab some wood. You’re more than thankful that Jake had cut more fire wood than needed last winter. He was always saving your back.

With the crackle of the fire you made it to the kitchen just in time, hearing the whistle of the kettle. It’s nearing three a.m. but you’re still wide awake. You’re stirring honey into your cup when you hear the creak of the floorboards. That didn’t last long, but that’s the way it goes. How either of you survive when he’s deployed is a mystery. He can’t sleep without you when he’s home.

Warm hands set themselves on your shoulders causing goosebumps to break out across your skin. Soft lips press against the back of your exposed neck, your eyes shut at the feeling. No, you hadn’t wanted to wake him, he needed his sleep, but you were glad he was here with you.

“What are you doin’ honey?” His voice is run through gravel, coated with sleep.

“Think I’m going to draw some.”

Jake hums, turning you in his grip so you’re facing him. His hands trail up from your shoulders to cradle your face. His thumb ghosts over your bottom lip, once, twice before you nip at it making him smile.

“I’ll get your supplies. Go get comfy.”

**

You should be drawing the view right now, but you’re not.

It’s not for lack of inspiration. There’s a reason you weren’t sleeping. You wanted to catch the storm. In any other circumstance you’d be completely captivated by the dark beauty of it all—the slow flowing raindrops rolling down the window. The dark clouds that keep the moon from shining in its dim light, all the stars hidden away. The quick flash that freezes the dried leaves and barren trees swaying in the winter air, giving you the perfect picture. Winter storms were your favorite and they were hard to come by. You normally wouldn’t pass this up. But somehow, your inspiration is solely coming from the man lying on the couch across from you. He’s sprawled out, relaxed, and completely at ease. His arms are folded behind his head, eyes closed as he breathes in deeply.

You told him to go back to bed, but he wasn’t sleeping without you. So this is the compromise. There’s a playlist on your phone playing through the speakers. One you always listen to when Jake’s away. Maybe that’s what keeps pulling your attention to him. The glow of the fire paints him in the warmest hues of yellows, oranges, and reds, making his lightly tanned skin glow. You smile, teeth biting into your cheek when green eyes flick over every few minutes to check that you’re still here with him, and it’s mesmerizing, his gaze. It’s almost the same color you thought his aura to be. Calm, steady, grounding, secure.

You keep your eyes trained on the sketchbook in your lap, attempting not to be conspicuous when you look up to study him every now and then. The idea makes you snort. As if your staring has ever bothered him. You stared so hard when you first met him that you hadn’t heard a thing he said to you for about three minutes. It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you, but hey, he thought you were the cutest thing.

It all worked out.

When he looks up at you now and catches you lost in thought as you admire him, his lips tilt up into a teasing grin. You wink at him before looking back down at the book. You’ve drawn him a hundred times before. This one is probably your favorite. Him at home, content  with you. Holding the piece back a bit, you study your favorite parts. The gentle way his lashes rest against his cheeks. The slope of his nose. He looks peaceful. Godlike. Not that you’d ever tell him that, his ego did not need to hear it.

“What are you drawing over there, honey?”

You don’t have to look up from the sketchbook to know that his smirk has turned more haughty than before, and when he leans forward a little, you lean back at the same time to keep your sketchbook out of his reach.

He knows you draw him. He’s seen a few of them. He’s seen almost all of your artwork. In fact, he has one of your drawings tattooed on him. He got it while on your honeymoon. You thought he was crazy but he thinks he was being romantic. Whatever. But this one, it feels different. More personal. It’s not him being vulnerable on the page, but you as well.

“Just the rainstorm,” you lie, with a little shrug, looking back out the window for added effect, scrunching your eyes slightly as if to examine it in depth.

“The rainstorm,” he repeats. He doesn’t believe you. Not like he has to. He knows without a doubt you’re lying. “That why you keep looking at me?”

“Maybe I just missed you, ever think of that?” You counter, but it comes out in a harsh whisper, like you're trying not to cry. Closing the sketchbook quickly, you nearly jam your finger in between the pages. His gaze burns over you, taking you in from your averted gaze, hands clenching your sketchbook, your rigged posture, back pressed so hard against the couch, as if purposely trying to keep a distance from him.

“Baby, I’m right here.”

You huff. As if you don’t already know this. Like you haven’t had your eyes on him since you crashed into him at the airport, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. It’s why you can’t sleep—because he’s home. He’s here and all you want is him close. You want him with you. You want him living inside you where he can’t ever escape; where the thought of losing him is only a nightmare. Your eyes have gone misty, something you can’t hide when you glance up at him when you feel a finger lazily drag up your leg. You raise your brows trying to feign innocence as you place the sketchbook on the other side of you. He could easily reach it if he wanted to, you’d have no chance at keeping it from him, but it seems that he can sense the anxiety radiating off of you. Jake’s smirk falls into something softer, gentler. Something you’ve only seen a handful of times—something that he saves just for you.

“Dance with me.”

You hesitate for a small second. “What?”

His eyes brighten as he pulls himself up into a sitting position. He grabs your phone that’s sitting on the coffee table and raises the volume. Suddenly, it’s three years ago, the beginning of June and you’re standing in the middle of an empty Texas pasture dressed in white. The song tugs on your heartstrings more than it ever has before. Jake’s eyes slightly crinkle with his smile.

“Dance with me.” he says softly as he extends his hand out for you to take.

For, my darling, I love you And I always will Love me tender, love me long Take me to your heart For it’s there that I belong And we’ll never part

Without much effort you're in his arms, swaying to the song that played during your first dance as a married couple. You can’t seem to stop the tears that fall from your eyes. You aren’t sad, but this feels like a lot. He’s got you wrapped up in him. One arm wrapped around your waist holding you to him, while the other is cradling your head, fingers weaved through your hair. Your head rests on his shoulder, hands tight around his waist, both of you lost in each other, in the magic of the firelight, the silence of the early morning.

“Do you regret marrying me?” Jake whispers in your ear.

“No.”

“You’d choose this life again?”

“I’d choose you every time no matter what it meant. I can deal with this, Jake, long as I get you back every time. Every time.”

His eyes rest heavy on you, and your pulse starts to race when the soft light in his eyes slightly darkens into something else. His gaze lingers on your lips long enough for you to tilt your chin up, bringing your mouth closer to his, and when his lips realign to that familiar smirk you know, like always, he’s more aware of the effect he has on you than he should be. Maybe you should be embarrassed by that, but it makes things easy. You never have to ask, he just knows. Like how you’re standing here with the electric hum of excited energy flooding your veins already, desperately waiting to feel his mouth on yours. He lowers his head slowly, eyeing you with a playful gleam telling you that he’s teasing you — that he knows his slow pace is driving you crazy. But it doesn’t last long, the moment you run your tongue along your bottom lip, his playful attitude breaks, and his lips collide with yours. You pull him closer as his hand slips down to grab at your thigh. Without much thought you jump, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you back to your bedroom.

With Jake, kisses are more than just feeling his lips against yours. It’s his calloused fingers slowly brushing the inside of your thighs, in a slow teasing motion, that drives you crazy until you're grinding against him. Desperate for him to touch you, really touch you. It’s the taste of his spearmint tongue brushing against your own, sending white-hot jolts of pleasure straight down to your core. It’s the smell of him—intoxicating, mouthwatering, enough to make you weak at the knees. But more than anything, it’s the sound of him—of the deep exhales when your fingers dip into the band of his pajama pants to tease him, the throaty groan when you grind your hips down into his, the position of you resting over him on your bed one of power, one he gives only you. It’s the surprised laugh that echoes from him whenever you nibble on his bottom lip or pull away to catch your breath.

Your seconds away from doing that when he breaks away from the kiss, grinning up at you like he knows you weren’t breathing. He probably does. The man knew you like the back of his hand from the moment you met. Jake only shakes his head, a soft laugh pouring out of him, his thumb running along your cheekbone. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars and the moon. But that can’t be right, can it? Not when he’s magic, a myth. Something you can’t really phantom. A god in your bed, carved marble under your fingertips. He is Apollo and you, Icarus, willing to burn for a moment of his time. Willing to go to war with the sun, a battle you know you will never win.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

He smiles against yours. “And I love you.”

[bucknastysbabe]

Criston being Alicent and Viserys daughters sworn sheild and because hes unhealthily obsessed and she has whole family issues shes into it and they make plans to run away to essos before the war breaks out

The Gray Area - Ser Criston x Reader

Yes! YESSSSSS! ORANGES also I’m taking some serious civil liberties apologizes very much, also mayhaps reusing a character oops but they’re obsessive and crazy and I felt like it fit the dynamic

Prequel: Just like you

Rating: Explicit

Tags: So many emotionsssss, rough sex, aggressive verbal arguments, guilt and shame that comes with being a Targ, Criston questions his life, pnv!sex, oral, THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER IN ESSOS THE END OKAY SOMETIME YOU GOTTA CUT OFF THE TOXICITY, she finally comes to terms w emotions

Inside the eerie melted castle, Criston slammed his hand down on the table in your shared quarters where you’d draw up plans. The brunette hissed, “We need to march south! The blacks have probably befouled the waters and Aemond is flying around charring the place! With that hoary bitch of his!”

You picked your teeth, staring at him blankly, armor off for the evening. Your dragon was feasting on bodies outside in the pits. “Then why don’t we just march south anyways? I’m of age with Aemond, we don’t have a fucking king per-say anyways.”

Criston leveled you with those dark eyes, “Aemond and Daeron are still in line.” You spat at him, “One-eye whose burning half the realm and Daeron, while valiant, a child. What the fuck are we even fighting for? Our heads on spikes?”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw twitching and clicking. Criston’s hair had grown out, even had some grays in it now, crinkling around his handsome eyes. You rolled onto your side, exposing your pale and scarred body. The knight’s eyes lingered upon your perky teats, hands digging into the table.

You hummed, “If we go south tomorrow, without the aid of Vhagar and just me on Skysinger, what’s our chances? They have the rivermen, that Crazed Blackwood. Winter’s Wolves. We’d meet them at a ridge,” she glared, “You always told me to find the high ground. Which would only be me.”

Criston stripped off his plated armor in jerky motions, face wrought with something. You turned onto your back, staring at the black ceiling. “I find that this ‘dance’ they have so deemed is destroying the realm. Over whether a vengeful cunt or wet rat should hold the throne. What’s the godsdamn point?”

He barked, “Honor! This is your family! We fight for who we are sworn to! What has gotten into you?”

“Oh fuck you and your honor Ser! Your cape should be black by now, you can’t pick and choose what constitutes honorable behavior! Fighting to your demise, so honorable, fucking Targaryen cunt you’re not allowed to sully is allowed though! You don’t even know what you want! Putting a drunk on the throne and if not him then my lovely brother who has knocked up a Strong bastard, which started half of this bullshit in the first place!”

Criston’s body slammed atop of you, pinning your skinny wrists to the rickety bed. He glared you down, spittle hitting your face as he seethed, “Do you ever shut your fucking mouth? Hateful, selfish wench.”

You heaved underneath him, thoroughly pinned, half expecting to get a bloody nose. But Criston just stared, nostrils flaring. In the softest tone your raspy voice could muster you asked, “Do you remember after Helaena died?”

He paused, deep pools of brown flickering away.

“Deep in your cups,” you nosed along his stubbled jaw, “You told me one time you thought of running away. Go to Essos and make a living. Away from my family’s shite. But she said no, made you the fool for it.”

Criston relaxed some, slotting himself between your skinny thighs, face melting into your neck. “I don’t want to die tomorrow. Not like this,” you said, voice horridly cracking. “They’ll rain arrows down on my child, I won’t have Vhagar as backup.” Criston’s jaw gritted against your thin skin, hands loosening your wrists to glide down your flat waist.

“I- would die by your side. With honor, for once,” Cole murmured. Wetness gathered at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You rubbed a hand down his wide back, feeling numb. Gods you hated crying. Hated it with your whole being. This war was driving you slowly insane.

You reiterated like a idiotic mummer, “Criston. Please don’t make us march tomorrow. We could hold down Harrenhal and wait out a siege. Or we leave tonight. On my dragon, go to Essos, start a mercenary company. How many of them have a dragon hm? There’s no honor in this war. It’s kinslaying.”

Tears leaked down your cheeks, chest involuntarily heaving. The Dornish knight leaned up, eyes red as he studied you. You pushed back his thick hair, unable to conjure any more words. What you wanted was out in the open now. He murmured, “Stop your tears, I raised my Princess better than that.”

He wiped them away with a calloused thumb, eyes soft. You wrapped your legs around him, arching into his tight body, rubbing against his swelling member. You growled, “If you’re leading me to my death then might as well have a good last fuck.” Your lover flipped you over roughly, big hand pinning your nape down to the bed. He slapped your ass, grunting, “You Targaryen whores are all the same. Fucking selfish.”

He thumbed your wet cunt, pinching roughly at your swollen clit. You cried out, unable to move as he seized your long limbs again, one big hand holding them tight. Criston aligned with your sex, thrusting in with a wet slap. He groaned, you knew the face by heart now, lips lax, eyes rolling up. Gorgeous.

Meanwhile his girth split you open easily, nudging up against your cervix, stretching out your ridged insides. He never took his time to get you acclimated, fucking into you rough and quick, hips slapping together. You cried out, tits rubbing against the tough fabric of the bed. Your hair fell in your face, swinging everywhere.

Criston rumbled, “You run. I die a warriors death. If I saw you dead I wouldn’t go on, fucking crone’s teats.”

“Come with me, I cannot live without you, you die a warriors death with a pocketful of gold, a manse, orange fields, and living life on- fuck- oh Criston baby- on your own terms!”

His hips stuttered, a hand sliding to your sternum to pull you upright, biting and licking at your neck, cock still hammering away. Desperately you cried, “My sworn shield, my knight, lord hand, I love you.” The brunette’s hips stuttered at your admission, big hand taking you passionately into a kiss. Your lips slid against eachother, teeth clinking until his tongue claimed authority over your own.

You rocked back onto his cock, growling, “I love you I love you I love you, run away with me, fuck all of this, what have they done for us? It’s always been us Criston, the puppets! We make the rules!”

Criston bit down on your lip, drawing blood while his thick fingers plucked at a budded nipple. You oozed around him, lost in fantasy and that sickening feeling of love. Your knight moaned, “We leave tonight, land outside of Norvos or Lorath, stay away from the Triarch. We cannot return.” He half-whimpered after a ragged breath, “I love you, more than anything I’ve ever known. Enough to send me to the seven hells a happy man.”

His left hand slid from your tit to bruisingly gripping your throat, squeezing those vessels until you saw spots, bucking on his prick like a wild foal. You wheezed his name over and over, until he let go, you convulsing and sloppily wetting his cock with another desperate declaration of love.

He pulled out with a broken cry, splattering your ass and thighs with hot seed. Criston immediately pulled you into his strong arms again, dark eyes dead serious. He hissed, “We leave. We don’t come back. There’s no more honor except in gold.”

You nodded, eyes watering from everything happening so fast. “We leave tonight. Aemond’s their leader. No honor except in gold.”

Aemond Targaryen had just settled Vhagar outside of Harrenhal, coming to lay with his lady Alys. He’d been burning all day, the stench of it soaking his essence. Curling into her arms he missed his twin’s familiar dragon taking off into the night, a dirtied white cloak flying in the wind.

It wasn’t easy the first few months. The pair of you constantly wondering if you made the right decision. Mourning over your family. Westeros in ruins kept you both away. The grief was tucked away and put forward into starting your company. A Westerosi Knight and Targaryen dragonrider garnered much attention on the other continent.

You’d found it tedious and boring at first, Criston calming your moods with fucking you stupid or eating your cunt until you’d about ripped his hair out. Eventually you’d struck a deal with a Qohorik nobleman who needed his caravan’s to be protected. Simple work.

That turned into bigger and bigger projects, Westerosi exiles even coming to join your company. You’d eventually named it The Honorable Company, as a jab to your not so well-intentioned beginnings. Tyrosh, Volantis, even some Ghiscari had hired your swelling ranks. Skysinger had grown bigger and more vicious, hatching a clutch at her preferred nest still outside of Qohor, where your manse would be built.

No letters ever came from your family, just hearsay on a regency. It hurt too bad to dwell on it. But the dance should have never occurred and you and Criston alike made sure to honor them in a quiet sept downstairs. Your company had grown big enough that there were levels and ranks now.

Then you fell pregnant. You would name him Aemond, after that stiff lipped asshole you dearly loved, as did Criston. The grayish egg in his cradle hatched, Criston smiling in ecstasy. You felt one of those annoying tears fall down your face.

“Do you think I’ll be a good woman like Alicent? A mother regardless of how fucking insane we all were?”

Criston’s face drew grim and he wrapped his arms around your figure, murmuring into your jeweled ear, “I think so. Might need to loosen these shoulders a bit. You’ll be great.” You kissed those pretty lips and cried, full on cried. Finally broken down from the hatred, guilt, fury, and shame. Then like a phoenix you’d arise anew, softer and ready for the world. As a mother and wife. Also dragonrider with a penchant for murder. But hey, that’s what Targaryen’s did.

The little dragon curled around Aemond’s babbling frame, snoozing already. You smiled, Criston behind you.

[nearest-dearest]

The Painting

You don’t really know what Frank is so stressed about, painting can be relaxing. Julie shares your sentiment. That’s why she encouraged the entire neighborhood to get together to ain’t or draw something. And what better place to look for references than a beautiful garden? While Julie’s garden would be great, Julie and Wally insisted that it should be yours. Due to Julie wanting to change the landscape of her flowers.

Your garden It is then!

Julie argues that your garden is bigger too. And you couldn’t really disagree with her when everyone practically still had elbow room, and they’re only in the first part of the place.

Everyone took their time to complete their pieces. Choosing different flowers to serve as their muse. Howdy drew a caterpillar among the roses, Frank wanted to paint the butterflies, Julie wanted to paint a cute little spider she found, and the rest chose a flower to paint. Including you, but the flowers are only the second subject of your painting. For you decided to make a painting with everyone involved. Flowers would surround the neighbors while they have happy smiles on their faces.

You initially wanted to paint Wally, but your brain stopped you before committing that ultimate mistake.

A shameful, ultimate mistake.

First things first, you have to render the focal point of the piece, so you started painting everyone’s faces, starting off with Poppy’s.

“And done!” Wally announced “(Y/n)? May I get a second opinion?”

Wally asked, seeing as you’re the only with him in the second garden. You paused your painting for a moment to take a look at Wally’s painting. You could use the break too anyways. You turned to see Wally’s painting and gasped. Wally had painted himself a self portrait. With impatiens balsamina or touch-me-not flowers surrounding him.

“Wally! This is amazing!”

The colors Wally had chosen were beautiful, complimenting each other very well, making the painting pop with life despite being a still image. But there’s something there. A small detail, but it still caught your eye.

“You painted yourself frowning?” It wasn’t really a question, it was a fact. Wally had painted himself with a frown. A stark contrast to the warm and vibrant colors he chose to paint with. Wally gives a small laugh.

“Forgive me for the dampen move, but I just thought it would be nice to do something different. But rest assured, I’m not sad. There’s nothing to be sad about anyways.”

The look you gave him shows every word you wanted to say without speaking it. Wally didn’t need you to say that you don’t believe him. You always wore your emotion on your sleeves, quite different from how Wally would do. But the moment he felt your hand be placed on top of his own, he couldn’t help but show a little red in his cheeks.

“Is something wrong Wally?” You asked.

And Wally felt himself grow warm and fuzzy. Like a nice little fire place during winter. Even more so when he saw that you hadn’t removed the red string on your finger. The concern that everyone expresses for Wally when something is wrong, is nothing compared to the way you expressed concerns for him.

He didn’t know when he started feeling this way towards you. It just happened one day, and ever since then, he gets butterflies in his stomach whenever he’s with you. And oddly enough, Wally doesn’t mind that feeling.

Maybe that’s why he felt the need to be vulnerable, but he wouldn’t allow himself to do that. So he only chose the half truth.

“It’s nothing to worry about (Y/n). Sometimes I just feel a little lonely, and I wanted to try and get it out of me through painting. And I think it worked, I guess.”

Wally can be an impeccable actor at times, that’s how he can make faux smiles even better than Sally Starlet. What he can’t fake was the surprise he felt when you finished your painting and then gave it to him.

“Here Wally, for you.”

Wally took the painting and now it’s his turn to admire your skills. There’s a few mistakes but it’s all overshadowed by how you chose to use the impasto painting technique for the flowers.

“(Y/n) this is lovely! But why give this to me?” Wally asked.

“So you and home won’t feel lonely!”

Darn, that gesture is so sweet it’s admirable.

And Wally turned from a pale apple into a full blown ripe red apple.

An entertaining sight for the whole neighborhood, hiding and watching the scene before them.

“Ha! I win, cough up!” Julie cheered, all while Frank had a frown as he begrudgingly gave away his one piece of candy.

[swiftie-sherlockian]

So…

Idk who knows this already but I watched The Sign of Three for the first time this past Valentine’s Day and almost immediately when it was over I wrote a Johnlock duet with a free online instrumental on YouTube and afterwards I was EXTREMELY proud of it. It’s sort of an AU where John notices Sherlock leaving at the end and follows him back to 221B to find him an absolute wreck in his bedroom, high and erratic and it’s a little hurt/comfort-y. Think Forever Winter by Taylor Swift but make it Johnlock

Anyway…. I Google Translated the lyrics too many times and now I have this silly song that still has feels (some of the lines are still very similar and once you read this you will know what lines those are once you read this) and other lines are “huh?” also try to figure out which lyrics I wrote from Sherlock’s POV and which ones are John’s. They may be obvious at first but the end sort of switches often

anyway… lyrics below the cut

He took it too

There was no doubt in those beautiful eyes

Return to the starting position 

Don’t tell me it’s easy

Nothing has changed

I’ll always be with you

Not everything will change

I won’t be together

I have no voice

Now they’ll talk and I’ll be silent

Lost in silence

Whatever really exists will be “good”

Oh, like now

I think I’ll clap once or twice 

Walk through the church doors

The party is over

Even if you ask him, he looks like a deer at night

Don’t give up

The bedroom door was closed

I have a pack of cigarettes 

A night’s sleep is very important for relaxation 

Long and full

Be stupid if you want

I play music and die

A new song is playing in my head

~~~

I said it doesn’t matter

I lied

My mind can’t read

Are you asking me if I’m not perfect?

I’m an idiot, so beautiful 

Everyone who knows me knows that

The documentation is good

What a wedding night

I am and will remain your godfather 

If they call me, I’ll run

I’m leaving

I’m going to sleep

Don’t ask why

I’ll ask you to stop

But take a pencil with you if necessary 

We’re writing a tragedy

~~~

I’ve lost my mind again

Call this guy tonight

Something has to happen again

It’s uncomfortable 

Soon everything will change

Even though I’m used to being apart, I still feel strange

Everything will change

I think I’ll catch you

I can’t stop

Leave it at the altar

But then the rot will quickly dry up

But now that I’ve found you, I was wrong

Oh, how are you now?

Third sign of bleeding, I feel full

I saw you coming out the door

The party ended abruptly 

I won’t be quiet when I go back to your apartment 

Stay inside

I have an unlock key

Those cigarettes have been missing from your home for two years

Long and full 

Some are right

I wrote that waltz when I was married

I’m sorry I didn’t say anything 

~~~

You could say that you’re OK

I know when you’re lying

I can’t read your mind

Nobody is good enough

“Maybe he’s an idiot” he half-smiled

I know, I mean, I know

The documentation is very good 

I saw you walking at night

You don’t want to be my best man, you want to be my husband

I want to study in my old cabin

I followed you to the door

I’m not crying anymore

I know why

Don’t tell me to stop 

Can you give me my pencil?

This way I can fix this mistake

~~~

All the steps we’ve taken so far

I don’t want to break us up

I did what I had to do

I don’t want to leave you

I offended someone in this mess

Who would regret it?

That’s why you’re guilty

Three words and we’re done 

But I know it won’t be easy for this kid

I want to go back 

Close again

I laughed and held my nose

Why should I live?

Who’s stopping me from taking a closer look?

I’ll fix it one way or another

Even if I didn’t have a thousand secrets, I wouldn’t tell them

But I haven’t been there for a long time

All the pain, all the love

Take a pencil and draw

There’s no room for doubt 

Invisible folder

Candle

All my memories

Don’t let these two years get too cold

I have a network in my head

Every good though brings suffering

Most importantly, hold your breath

Until the music stops

Damn it’s over

This is not yet complete

@a-victorian-girl @nowiamcoveredinyou @gingaaaaa @whatnext2020 @jamielovesjam

[notdacota]

A Bond Forged in Silence.

Paul Baumer X GN!reader (platonic)

Paul once saved someone, whom he believed to be just a civilian from an enemy camp, never imagining that this stranger would carry both a secret and a debt. That person was actually a French spy. Cloaked in the guise of an Austrian-Hungarian officer, they got to blend in and get the all the information. Unable to speak directly to Paul without endangering them both, they found another way to repay his gratitude—through small, crumpled notes slipped into Paul’s pocket in fleeting, unnoticed moments.

A/N: Winter once again leaves me sad and gloomy, returning me to writing some silly things based on old books��😿 really tried to make it close to 20th century sounding, but I'm afraid it

"Confidante" is close friend or associate to whom secrets are confided or with whom private matters and problems are discussed.

"applesauce" is old-fashioned slang for nonsense; bunk.

Paul had grown used to the notes. They were his anchor, his piece of warmth in the endless gray of war. He didn’t know who Confidante was, but he had stopped questioning the mystery long time ago. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the connection—the wit, the silly jokes, the unspoken comfort that came with every crumpled piece of paper he found tucked in his pocket. So, when he slipped his hand into his coat and felt the familiar texture of a folded note, his heart lifted ever so slightly.

Unfolding it, he saw the same messy handwriting that never failed to draw a grin on his face.

Paul folded the note carefully, tucking it away in his jacket. He felt something shift inside him, a warmth that cut through the cold air of the trenches. The note was longer than usual, and something about it felt different— perhaps it was more thoughtful. It was still silly, witty, flaky even, but there was an underlying sense of reassurance in it, as if Confidante had known exactly what Paul needed to hear. And he indeed need it. The war was relentless, a weight that pressed on his chest every day. But these notes reminded him that there was still something good in the world. He leaned back against the trench wall, letting out a long breath.

Paul, my dear friend and unflappable warrior,

Yes, it’s me again. Anyway, how have you been? No fainting lately, at least I hope so... If you’ve been eating stale bread and calling it “supper,” I’ll have to come down there and stage an intervention. You can’t survive a war on air and bad jokes alone, though I do hope my notes are keeping your spirits up. I’ll be honest, I’m writing this one a bit hastily. Things have been busy on my end— not the fainting kind of busy, if you were meaning to ask, thank you very much— just the usual “I have to keep myself from getting in trouble” kind of busy. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t, but trust me when I say it’s a full-time job. That said, I’ll need to take a little break from our delightful correspondence for a short while. Nothing bad, applesauce. Just a... temporary intermission. But I promise you this: I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me. By the time I return, I bet your comrades will have at least three new insults about my handwriting, when they once again slip this note out of your pocket. That’s a guarantee! Oh, speaking of this, I’ve noticed that your comrades seem to think these notes are from some great love of yours. Honestly, I think you should let them believe it. Imagine the calumny! Just tell them, “She’s a mysterious artist who sketches snowflakes and writes odes to misplaced socks.” That should keep them entertained for weeks. One last thing before I go—look after yourself, Paul. Seriously. I know I joke, but the thought of you coughing your way through the trenches makes me want to find you and drop a blanket on your head. Stay warm, stay fed, and stay alive. I’ll be back soon. Don’t ever try to forget me:)

Yours (still very much mysterious), Confidante.

“Don’t forget me,” the note had said. As if Paul ever could.

[bordysbae]

i am obsessed with the ethan x diabetes reader it’s so good! could you please write another?

“you aren’t alone”

ethan edwards x f!reader

omfg i’m so sorry this has taken me so long to write my inbox is so full rn!!

you and ethan are currently visiting his family for part of winter break. his grandparents are going to be staying at his parents house, and so are the both of you. this is your first time meeting his grandparents and you know how close he is with his grandfather, so you’re quite nervous. you guys arrived in canada last night, and his grandparents are coming in less than an hour.

“babe i promise if my parents like you, they’ll like you too. you don’t need to impress anyone,” ethan reassures you as he comes up behind you in the mirror. you readjust your shirt for the fifth time now, sighing at how you can’t manage to get it to look good. “babe stop, we’re going to pick them up from the airport anyways so your shirt doesn’t matter. cmon let’s go downstairs,” he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

you and ethan are sat in the back of the car, with ethan’s dad driving. the airport is full of people rushing to find their rides, and people entering the airport as well. you guys see his grandparents standing with their suitcases and ethan’s dad pulls the car over in front of them. ethan gets out to help his grandpa, while his grandma slides in the backseat. “hi darling! you must be y/n! i’ve heard so much about you, you’re so gorgeous!” she smiles at you sweetly. your heart begins to race, and you put your largest and sweetest smile on your face.

“oh thank you mrs. edwards! it’s wonderful to meet you as well!” you beam. ethan then gets back in the car, and you all head back to the edwards household.

when you arrive at the house, ethan, his father, and his grandfather immediately go to watch the hockey game that’s on the tv while you go into the kitchen to catch up with the other women. eventually the boys all come into the kitchen and sit at the table with you guys, immediately causing a ruckus. when the boys join in on the conversation, it switches to laughter and loudness.

suddenly you start to feel dizzy and lightheaded, and ethan immediately notices.“babe, are you alright?” he asks in your ear. you lousily nod, not trying to draw the attention on you. you don’t want to seem like you’re begging for attention, especially in front of his parents and grandparents. you try your best to ignore the dizziness and the empty feeling in your head, but it eventually becomes to much and you grab ethan’s attention by tapping his shoulder.

“im going low e,” you whisper. he quickly gets up to grab you some juice and a snack, grabbing the attention of everyone at the table.

“honey are you alright? you basically jumped up from the table!” his mom chuckles, turning around in her seat to face her son.

“y/n is going low, do we have any juice?” he asks frantically. his mom immediately helps him navigate through the kitchen and a few moments later he returns with juice and candy for you. you awkwardly eat and drink, trying to ignore the lingering attention that’s on you.

“im sorry, i didn’t mean to cause a scene,” you speak up, very clearly embarrassed.

“oh darling, don’t apologize! ethan’s grandfather is actually a diabetic as well,” ethan’s grandma smiles, gesturing to her husband who’s sat across the table from her. you immediately look at him and he rolls up his sleeve to show you the glucose monitor on his arm, making you smile.

“oh wow, i had no idea!” you exclaim, instantly feeling a sense of relief. you turn to look at ethan who has an even bigger smile on his face, glad you’re feeling more comfortable around his family. “see babe, you aren’t alone!” ethan whisper-yells to you, before placing a soft kiss in your hair.