#basically uh whilst i have the time between this and my birthday

[thehappiestgolucky]

So um, I’ve actually wanted to host a Magma canvas thing after taking part in a friends one a while back, and it’s my birthday in like 3 weeks, and the problem is - I don’t have a single clue what to theme it around! So whilst there’s still time I’m once again asking for y’all’s thoughts.

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

[safertokiss]

Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid. 

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore. 

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features. 

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day. 

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps. 

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that. 

It was so fucking easy too. 

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks. 

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs. 

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles. 

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own. 

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot. 

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

 “Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly. 

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted. 

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth. 

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her. 

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic. 

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not. 

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion. 

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building. 

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form. 

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face. 

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved. 

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist  threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs. 

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers. 

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap. 

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls. 

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release. 

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth. 

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @watermelonstyl @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @ughgoaway @cromies90-blog @mightaswell247 @calm-and-doctor @golden-hoax @1mpvls3 @lonewolf471 @centiaaa @spencerspecifics

[strawberrywritingfiction]

Lip Sync Battle Birthday Bash

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Synopsis: Zendaya incorporates a lip sync battle into Tom’s birthday party, only you were unaware you’re featured in it

A/N: To celebrate Tom’s birthday. Idk what this is, but it’s something 😭

Also, If you happen to not have heard of Tom Holland’s Lip Sync Battle, I suggest you watch it immediately: Tom’s Lip Sync Battle

Warnings: ⚠️ lil sugestive ig but mostly fluff

masterlist

^^^

Tom’s birthday called for a fun party. Only involving close friends, of course. No surprises were in store. That is- until Zendaya became ringleader of an impromptu lip sync battle. Which you agreed to be part of, assuming it would be simple. Nothing too extravagant.

“Z, WHAT is this?” You enquired with a rather harsh whisper, as you held the shiny material and fishnets in your hands. Z had swept you away from the pleasant party you had created, and brought you into the other room, in order to cultivate her devious plan. Zendaya only grinned mischievously at your response. “Listen, it's going to be girls vs boys, OK? Only, I told Tom that he would go up with Harrison, Sam, Tuwaine and Jacob, and just bust out some moves to any song of their choice. Little do they know….” Zendaya whispered excitedly, “we have a fully choreographed and costumed routine.” She grinned wildy. “Also, do you have any umbrellas around, perchance?” Zendaya eagerly looked around the room.

“Zendaya! I can’t do this! Just you and me??? I don’t even know Tom’s old dance-” you rambled.

“We have Harry too, he asked some questions when he saw some fishnets hanging out of my bag, so I had no choice but to recruit him. And, if you don’t know the dance for sure, follow along with me, or make something up. But I am sure you’ve seen that video a little more than you let on.” Zendaya laughed, only earning an eye roll from you.

“Come on, y/n, this will be my revenge! Do you know just how many times Tom has rubbed in that he won that stupid thing?” 

“Fine,” You groaned, “I’ll just stand behind you during your little performance,” you sneered.

“Nuh uh, you’re front and center, after all, your Tom’s leading lady,”

You began to persist, but Z grasped your arm, walking you back into the party.

There were only the boys, watching some football and drinking beers. But the two of you were still given some glances. You just managed to hide the costume behind your back, before anyone could take notice. Aside from the few birthday balloons hanging around, it felt like a normal weekend. Jacob and Zendaya had flown in to celebrate Tom’s birthday, and there had been a large group dinner the previous night. Hence why the birthday itself was rather low-key.

“Ladies and gents, we will now be moving this party outside, if you will!” Zendaya yelled to the group.

^^^

The party moved outside, and lawn chairs were splayed across the grass, facing the slightly raised patio at the back of the house. You stood next to Tom as the two of you overlooked both Harry and Zendaya plugging in a speaker and discussing their performance in hushed tones.

“What are they doing?” Tom mumbled to you.

“I’m not sure,” you whispered, still confused by the whole affair.

Harry held his hands up and faced the rest of the group yelling “alright, alright, we are going to do a celebratory lip sync battle. The teams will be me, Zendaya, and y/n, up against the rest of you, Tom, Haz, Sam, Tuwaine and Jacob.

“That’s bold of you mate, three versus five?” Tom countered. The boys were always up to games, and were never not competitive.

“Originally it was just gonna be girls, Tom, but your brother here hopped onto my performance,” Zendaya sneered in defense. “Now the rest of you, choose what song you're gonna compete with.”

Tom huffed, and left you with a brief kiss on the cheek, as he joined a huddle with the boys. You joined Zendaya and the two of you watched their huddled discussion. “Idiots.” she said, and leant into you, whispering, “They don’t know what they’re in for.” You laughed.

The boys recovered from their huddle and Harrison proudly spoke on behalf of  the group, yelling, “Courtesy of Tom, we are going to be performing, “My Heart will Go On.”

Both you and Zendaya booed them, in opposition to their cheers. Then, they set up their song and performed. The whole charade was comical. Tuwaine was held within Tom’s grasp, arms spread apart, in recreation of the ‘Titanic pose.’ Sam and Jacob exhibited some graceful dancing around the two, and Harrison dramatically mouthed the words, beer bottle in hand, in place of a microphone. It was obvious the boys were rather intoxicated, as they idiotically danced, and swayed standing up. They earned a few cheers, but most of you erupted in laughter in response to their performance.

“You ready,” Z asked.

“No.” 

Z groaned, but turned to the rest of the party and shouted, “Boys we need a minute of preparation,” to which they responded with a chorus of ‘ooh’s

Zendaya dragged you to the nearest bathroom, where the two of you got dressed, in a pretty close replica of what Tom wore for his performance. Zendaya then sat you down and applied some makeup on you, followed by herself, and Harry. You put a black haired wig on Harry, just like the one Tom wore, and he couldn’t help but begin to regret agreeing to perform alongside you two. Your laughter at his appearance faltered when Tom rapped on the bathroom door, “You idiots ready yet?” He said to the three of you.

“No, Tom! Just sit and wait on the lawn,” Zendaya yelled, irritated. You laughed, and Tom groaned before walking away. After your looks were completed, Zendaya peeked out the door, making sure you were all in the clear. It was basically dark out, and the backyard was only illuminated by a few small lights. “Ok y/n, Harry and I will walk out first, then when the chorus hits, you join us. Ooh, and stand between us, you know, you a little further up, Harry and I spread behind you, like a triangle, ok?” Zendaya rambled, “Tom, cue the music!!!” She yelled. You peeked out the back door and saw the boys sitting on the lawn chairs, Tom with his phone in hand, pushing play on the music.

Both Harry and Zendaya walked outside, in view of the group, who erupted in cheers and idiotic laughter. Harry chucked a flashlight at the boys, which Sam caught, and angled up at the both of them. Harry began mouthing a part of the song. And all the boys began doubling over in laughter. Tom, on the contrary, had his head in his hands, in embarrassment. 

Umbrella in hand, you awkwardly walked out, sporting the fishnets, as the chorus played and all the boys below you broke out in a fit of even more laughter and cheers. Some pulling out phones to record. 

Tom sat in shock as the rest of the boys laughed at him. His face went a little red as he watched you, whilst you waltzed around the umbrella in laughter alongside Harry and Zendaya. Harry received the most laughter, however, as he awkwardly danced, an umbrella held over his head.

The dance continued, and Tom tensed as you walked over to him whilst the lyrics continued to play. The other boys erupted in a chorus of laughter and cheers when you danced in front of Tom, just as he approached Zendaya in his own performance. It was evident he enjoyed the entire fiasco, but was flushed with embarrassment.

You retreated back to the patio and continued to dance, alongside Harry and Zendaya, still receiving cheers from the boys, however less climatic with a lack of rainfall in comparison to Tom’s.

The lyrics ended and the music stopped. The round of cheers, claps and laughter from the boys was immense, and Zendaya engulfed you in a hug, the two of you out of breath from fits of laughter.

“THAT’S ONE ALL HOLLAND!” Zendaya snickered and yelled in the direction of your boyfriend.

He only responded with a “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” still rather pink in the face as the two of you walked down to the lawn and joined the rest of the crew. Both you and Zendaya earned a pat on the back from the boys, but Harry was ridiculed immensely. Harrison stole his wig and ran around in it. Tuwaine and Jacob smothered the poor boy in tackles. And Sam just pointed and laughed at his brother. Although, Harry managed to plant kisses on both Tuwaine and Jacob, who now had remnants of red lipstick smeared across their cheeks.

Overall, the performance was a success as you were given a standing ovation, and both you and Zendaya bowed gratefully. Tom whistled, two fingers against his lips.

^^^

[wizkiddx]

honeymoon morning

Honestly I apologise in advance bcos this is pure sickening, god awful fluff. It’s shit bit fluffy af and warmed my cold heart of stone a little ahah. Kinda imagined that its actress!reader too, but doesn’t acc have to be (oh and for the purposes of the story also married Haz off to the readers best mate). On a real, really didn’t excute the idea the way I wanted but hey-ho. T x 

Summary: the morning after the wedding and there are some beans to be spilt in between all the happiness

The best morning of her life. Y/n knew it would be just that. I mean, it already was - she woke up in the arms of the man she loved, that she could now call her husband forever and ever. Tom looked glorious; still asleep as he lay on his back, slightly tilted toward her side and his arm outstretched as if he was waiting for her to come back to bed and join him. Even unconscious, Y/n still wanted to please him in everyday possible so she did just as he wanted. Tiptoeing from the doorway on their ensuite, she pulled the cord of the white silk robe slightly tighter round her stomach. Before she lay down next to her husband, she smiled gently and pulled her still wet hair to one side, smelling like apples of the hotels free sample shampoos. As if rehearsed, as soon as she settled on the white pillows, ontop of Tom’s outstretched arm, he rolled almost ontop of her, throwing his other arm over her side and squeezed. Y/n couldn’t repress that little giggle his actions illicited, making the brunette around her groan and mumble something incoherent meanwhile pressing his head further into her hair. 

Which made him pull back and slowly blink awake with a scowl. Her hair was still wet. 

“Hi husband” She grinned, loving the way his scowl at being awoken morphed into this shit eating smile. 

“My beautiful wife huh?” Tom tucked a clump of damp hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on her glowing cheek and just staring into her seemingly ever changing eyes. No matter how many times he looked into them, Tom always managed to see something different and exciting in them. Something else to fall deeply and helplessly in love with. 

“Yesterday was…”

“Everything.” Tom finished off for her, before pressing his lips to hers as she shifted to lean over him. 

“Uh-huh. But now it’s today. Which means… you gotta get up!” She eventually got to the point, sitting up and therefore avoiding his second attempt to meet lips, once again making him pout. 

“Is it too much to ask to just spend a day in bed with my wife?” His wife. Boy did that sound like music to her ears.

“Yes because everyone is waiting downstairs for us at breakfast!”

“They can wait there till tomorrow for all I care.” Indignantly, Tom closed his eyes pretending to go back to sleep.

“And… because I got you a marriage present.” That got his attention. Eyes flying open, as he pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard of the big four poster bed, Tom looked quizzically at his wife. His wife. 

Giggling at his oh-so-predictable reaction, Y/n leaned off the bed to pickup the small gift wrapped box on the floor.

“Y/n you really shouldn’t have I didn’t know we were doing this-“

“Oh shut up and open it would you?”

“Unless this is a toy for… you know, then you really should have.” Even half asleep, Tom still had something on his mind.

“Tom! Just open it before you ruin the moment anymore.” She wasn’t really mad. She was smirking and jokingly rolling her eyes at his idiocy. He was her idiot though. With a confused look, Tom followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping the silvery gift paper to reveal a navy blue velvet box. He looked up momentarily to question Y/n, who just gestured for him to open it. Going at a painfully slow speed, he lifted it up to reveal an old and tattered watch. It had a cracked glass front yet Tom could still see the ‘Rolex’ logo branded onto the face of it. 

Not going to lie - he was confused. Y/n knew he already had multiple nice watches he wore regularly. All of those were in better nick than this. 

“I umm-“

“It’s an old Rolex. I thought you could do it up like your dad did for you.” She whispered, with this massive smile just because she knew Tom still didn’t understand.

“Oh I er… I mean I could I’m not sure-“ Tom stammered, she seemed so proud of herself, yet he couldn’t really understand why and didn’t want to disappoint her. To be fair him being a bit slow wasn’t an uncommon thing, Tom would hold hid hands up and admit he wasn’t the smartest. Whereas and completely unknown to most people, Y/n was really really clever, I mean she was nearly going to be a doctor. That was one of the things Tom absolutely loved too, the way she would be able to make leaps and figure things out the average person would just stare at confused. So fair to say, she was used to explaining things to him. 

“You know your Dad gave it to his first born on their eighteenth, your eighteenth birthday. And I thought you could do with all the 18 years because I dont fancy you as a professional watch-fixer.” Tom was still absolute clueless, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“18 years?” The number seeming a bit random but oddly specific to Tom.

“Well you know… 18 years from now when your son or daughter turns into an adult. When they aren’t our little baby anymore.” She whispered, taking his hands in her and pressing it against her ever so slightly bloated stomach. 

And then finally it clicked. His eyes grew impossibly wide, pressing lightly on her silk-clad stomach as he sat forwards.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Tommy we are going to be parents!” She smiled whilst nodding, totally enamoured by the look of sheer joy on his face. 

“This isn’t a joke right?”

“No I swear to you. 12 weeks yesterday.”

“You’re serious? We’re going to be parents?” Y/n just nodded in response this time, before instantaneously Tom’s lips were on hers, pouring all the passion and love and excitement that he could on her. After a few moments they pulled away, yet keeping their faces impossibly close.

“I love you”

“I love you and… well I love them too.” Y/n was so in love with the man in front of him. He just was going to be the best Dad in the world and there was no-one she would rather start this journey with. In complete honesty, yesterday the first thing she’d wanted to do when she saw Tom standing at the altar was tell him. It had been impossible, the last weeks of keeping ‘shtum’. But she’d only found out when she noticed she was 3 weeks late on her period, by which point Tom was away filming. They’d agreed that so they both had a quality honeymoon, to finish any backlog of work before the wedding, so it was a 8 week holiday with just the two of them. It had also made the reunion that much better, having been apart for almost 2 months before the wedding. 

“You want to see them? I had the scan really early yesterday morning?” It was an unnecessary question, as soon as Y/n even mentioned it Tom bolted up like an excited puppy. With a knowing laugh, Y/n then slipped her hand under the pillow to produce the little white card and offering it to him. Tom took the card, while with his other hand pulling her flush with his chest so she was sitting half on his lap. Slowly Tom lifted the front of the card, to reveal the black ultrasound print. For all he knew that could be an ultrasound of elephant dung; but the fact that he had it on good authority it was his wife and baby, Tom swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Knowing he was more than hopeless at this, Y/n took him through slightly different blobs on the picture, demonstrating the head, an arm, a foot. 

“Why didn’t you tell me though? You had to do this by yourself?”

“By the time I found out myself you were already in new york and… well its not something to say over the phone is it?”

“Y/n as perfect as this is, you could’ve sent me a text for all I care. I wouldn’t have let you do this on your own! Have you been sick or-“

“Not technically on my own… don’t be mad but Y/f/n was there when I took the test, she was the one who said I should.”

“I should’ve guessed that to be fair” Tom rolled his eyes playfully, of course Y/f/n knew they were basically joint at the hip. She probably sensed it with her best friend powers.

“And yeh mornings aren’t very fun but thats supposed to ease now we’re over the first trimester.”

“I-fuck I don’t know what to say… I just love you.”

“And that is all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispered against his lips before they connected once again. It was just so full of gentle, care and love for each other. The moment was just perfect… until her phone rang. 

Y/n pulled away, receiving an almost whine from her husband, reaching to answer her phone. 

“Hey… yeh yeh I know we are on our way, just had some news to spill… I think he’s happy yeh-“ she giggled, as she watched Tom gently pull back the sides of her robe to reveal her belly. At only 12 weeks, she was barely showing at all but now Tom looked he didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed last night. “-… I’m not sure let me check hang on” Y/n spoke into the receiver again, Tom already knew the moment it rang it would only be Y/f/n. Only she would have the audacity to interrupt the couple the morning after their wedding. 

“Tom so… I kind of made arrangements just incase, because this is a pretty good time just because everyones here. But I figured you might want to keep it a secret for a bit when its just us that know?” He looked toward the window, apparently deep in thought, before turning back to her. 

“I’m spoiler king right? Might be safest to tell them before I explode.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeh course, you know I can’t keep a secret, one look at Haz and he’ll know something is up”

“Actually he might already know too-“

“WHAT”

[rebelwrites]

Date Disaster

Jax Teller x Reader

A/N so I think everyone that’s read Dating Advice asked for a part two, so here we go

“Now remember I’m only a text away okay” Jax said as you fastened your helmet up.

“Nothing is gonna go wrong Jackie boy” you laughed looking over at him.

“Just saying” he shrugged “all you gotta do is text and I will be there”

“Riiigggght” you rolled your eyes “can I go now or you just gonna keep assuming it’s gonna go wrong”

“Nah you can go” he shrugged “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”

“Pfft that gives me plenty of things to do then” you giggled starting your engine “I will be back later”

Jax watched as you rode out of the lot, he did some digging on this Trent dude and he didn’t know what you saw in him, like he was on the straight and narrow, never even got a ticket and was a rich fucker which was all daddy’s money.

“Please tell me ye haven’t done anything Jackie boy” Chibs said offering Jax a smoke.

“Why would you think I’ve done anything?” Jax asked, raising his brow.

“A know you’ve done a background check on him and A know ye like her so” Chibs smirked.

“I’ve honestly done nothing but I have a feeling I will end up saving the night” Jax shrugged.

Pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, caused you to get some funny looks, along with the reaper emblem on the back of your leather jacket. Parking your bike you took your helmet off shaking your hair out.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Trent walking over to you.

“If I would have known you’d come on your bike I would have picked you up” he said putting you on edge a bit as you climbed off your bike adjusting your dress.

Thank god you remembered to wear your gym shorts underneath.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it” you smiled hoping that he wasn’t judgemental.

As soon as you sat down you ordered a whisky where he ordered a bottle of red wine.

“You not having wine, sweetheart?” He asked.

“I don’t actually like it” you laughed “more whiskey, beer and hard liquor”

“Right” he said, glancing up from the menu. “So tell me a bit more about yourself?”

“I mean you know the basics from texting but I’m very family oriented, like I’d do anything for them even if they aren’t blood” you smiled as you scanned the menu for what you wanted.

Where were the chicken nuggets? The burgers? The kebabs?

Before he could answer the waitress arrived.

“I will take the sea bass and my good lady will take the chicken salad” Trent said flashing the waitress a smile.

You didn’t even want a pissing salad.

“So what do you do for work?” He asked sipping his wine.

“I’m a mechanic” you said proudly “I do a lot around the garage”

“Don’t you want to achieve more?” He asked.

“I enjoy what I do” you shrugged “i love my cars and bikes and quite often we will head to the track for the day and race”

As you were talking you felt his eyes burning into your arm, obviously trying to get a better look at the tattoo on the inside of your arm.

“I actually got this when I was 17” you smiled moving your arm so he could see the ink “my uncle did it for my birthday”

“And it’s a reaper” he sighed

“Is that a problem?” You asked sipping your whiskey.

“I just didn’t expect you to have it tattooed, or arrive on a bike and I saw the reaper on the back of your leather jacket” Trent said with a disapproving look. “Like I’ve heard stories about the sons of anarchy and non are which are good”

“Okay” you said resting your hand on your fist, just hoping he hadn’t ran a background check on you, because he would know you did a stretch in Stockton when you covered for the club.

“I also know you have a criminal record” he said.

“Honestly I don’t see why that is an issue with it” you shrugged.

“Hmmm” he nodded.

“Excuse me” you said “I’m just going to the bathroom”

Walking away from the table, you couldn’t believe it, like you had never met anyone so judgemental as him.

Leaning against the counter in the bathroom, you felt so out of place in this restaurant, pulling your phone out you stared at Jax’s name in your phone contemplating texting him.

📲 to Jackieboy🖤😈

- 🆘

📱 from Jackieboy🖤😈

- say no more on my way be with you in 15, will call you when I’m outside, just play along x

Sliding your phone back into your purse you went to join Trent again, who was on the phone, as you got closer he was talking business, not even realising you were back.

Your salad had been placed in front of you making you scoff, it was half a chicken breast, some carrot, shredded beetroot and a few leaves of lettuce. Taking a picture of it as proof of what he ordered for you. Picking at the chicken you were just waiting on your phone ringing.

After another 10 minutes you felt it going off in your purse.

“Sorry I’m gonna have to take this” you nodded, placing your fork down.

“You know I’m on a date right?” You laughed.

“Told you, you’d end up calling me” Jax said a smirk evident in this voice.

“Wait what please tell me you are joking right?”

“I’m outside now”

“Shit, I’m on my way” you sighed ending the call.

“I am so sorry, I am going to have to go, my grandpa has been rushed into hospital” you whispered, making your bottom lip quiver.

“Oh I hope he’s okay” Trent said looking up from his phone.

“Urm thanks, it’s been nice” you nodded slipping your jacket on.

“Maybe another time?” He asked making you want to laugh.

“Maybe, sorry I really need to go” you said pretty much running out of the restaurant.

Glancing around you saw Jax sat on his bike at the start of the drive, climbing on your bike you slowly rode up to him, placing a smoke between your lips you smiled at him.

“How did you know I’d text you?” You asked as you rested your head on his shoulder as you picked at the nuggets you brought before heading to the hills.

“Just had a feeling I guess, I know his type” Jax whispered.

“Yeah the prick ordered for me” you laughed “and he ordered a fucking salad”

“God no” Jax laughed as he watched you dunk the chicken nugget in the sauce before taking the whole thing in your mouth.

“Uh huh the bastard fed me rabbit food” you said with a mouthful of nugget “like do I look like a fucking rabbit”

“So no second date then?” Jax laughed kissing the top of your head.

“I’d rather do a stint in Stockton again or get shot than go out with that prick again” you laughed looking up at Jax.

“Good to hear darlin’” Jax smirked “like I said maybe the person you are destined to be with is sat right with you”

It was at that point you choked on your drink.

“What” you said slightly out of breath as Jax just smiled at you.

“Why do you think I didn’t add anything when you asked for advice, it’s because I didn’t want you going on the date” He said resting his hand on your cheek.

“Jax” you breathed

“Darlin’ I’ve been dropping hints for the last six months that I really like you” he smirked.

“I just thought you were messing with me” you whispered as you looked into his eyes.

“Nah not messing with you babe” he smiled leaning closer to you “I know you have had a crush on me since school, I mean you told me so the night we got blackout drunk and you woke up with no memories of the night before”

“Well I feel like an idiot now” you said feeling rather embarrassed.

“So can I kiss you now or what?” He grinned resting his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your skin.

“Yeah” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you onto his lap before pressing his lips against yours.

Your lips moved in sync, the feeling you got was something you had never felt before, it was like you were flying as your tongue explored each other’s mouths.

Pulling away, you rested your forehead against his, your grin was so wide, and you felt like a teenager again.

“This date is so much better” you whispered against his lips whilst playing with his hair.

“It better be or I’m not kissing you again” he smirked “I know I’m not a rich kid but I can offer you so much more than that prick can babygirl”

SOA TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @talicat713 @corebore123 @nothingeverdies @teapartydreams @mrspeacem1nusone @khyharah @itmejado @woahitslucyylu @beth-winchester21 @minnicelli @everyhowlmarksthedead @trulysuccubus @haynsey @witching-hour @destynelseclipsa @edonaspanca @abbiesthings @angelreyesgirl @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @gemini0410 @i-love-scott-mccall @est11 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @starrynite7114 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @sadeyesgf @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @marquelapage @meteora-fc @penny4yourthot @justahopelessssromantic @ilikechocolatemilkh @mayans-sauce @xbreezymeadowsx @ben-c-group-therapy @-im-fantastic- @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @milaxmariex @fvckthisbxtchup

[shintorikhazumi]

“Dance For Me.”

A/N: Here’s your pole-dancing AU you bunch of thirsty… people on discord. Idk, I’m bad at… trashtalk if it’s not for self-defense. I also don’t cuss unless it’s in fics. Because I’m technically not cussing, the characters are *wink wink*.

Batting second after Lary! Khazumi~ Coming in! Unless someone already finished before I did and I didn’t notice, haha.

I’m not one to write NSFW. At least not for public… consumption. Borderline, yes. But like… I suck at NSFW, not gonna lie. I’ll try my very best?

I'm also sorry that I can't write pole dancing very well. Hope you can... picture out what's going on. haha.

Weirdest thing I searched for confirmation while writing this was ‘during intercourse are your pupils constricted or dilated’ Because my mind is so lost rn hahha.

My timeline here is before Christmas. I’m sorry. I need it.

Basically, I'm sorry for this trashy fic.

ayt.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi 

This… is not quite what Diana expected when she left Akko this morning for work at the estate.

The past few months, Akko had been busy with teaching her classes at Luna Nova, on top of performing her scheduled weekend shows in town that the woman just wouldn’t give up the chance to do. Always for the smiles, always for the people’s happiness.

And Diana loves her for that, she really does. Dear Beatrix, she loves her wife- of three years now- to death.

But while she had been excitedly looking forward to the holidays, winter rolling around, expecting that she’d finally have her wife-mind you- all to herself, said wife had other plans, it seems.

Akko had agreed to be booked almost daily this season, and despite being home in Diana’s arms each night, she had absolutely zero energy to do anything but snuggle up to the former heiress and fall asleep in the blink of an eye.

Diana had pouted for days on end, telling Akko to give her one day, to spend just one day with her.

Akko, despite all her regrets of leaving her wife like this, couldn’t just cancel. But she had promised to dedicate the two days before the twenty-fifth, right up ‘til the end of vacation to her lovely spouse.

And Diana has to reluctantly agree. She knows in her heart that this is Akko’s passion, it’s what makes her the amazing woman known for her beautiful believing heart.

Diana just needs patience. So much patience.

But then, on the day of Christmas Eve, she gets a call from the manor. It’s related to the estate. About a sudden accident with one of her people. She couldn’t not go. At least she’d try to finish up early so she could offer her remaining time to-

Akko’s phone rings.

It’s a special request. A little girl’s birthday. And she just had to see the amazing Kagari (-Cavendish) Atsuko perform her special magic. Now this wouldn’t have been that much of a problem had the party been in the morning or early afternoon, however it appeared as though it would take place around five pm. Diana knows it will run overtime. It always does. Everyone loves to bask in the presence and utter warmth of ‘Atsuko’ after all.

So, Begrudgingly, they both prepare for their respective agendas, Diana feeling absolutely depressed over the fact that she would be coming home for Christmas eve to an empty house, cold halls, devoid of the calming scent and lovely voice of her wife singing her favorite Shiny Chariot showtune from the kitchen as she cooked all of Diana’s favorites.

Akko notices. She always does.

She walks up to the sulking blonde, cupping her face in her hands, chuckling at those pouty lips, those teary eyes. “I’m really sorry, my Diana.” She whispers. “Really, I am.”

Diana sighs in defeat, pulling her wife into one last bearhug before work.

“Can I at least have my own Magical Atsuko show?” She uncharacteristically turns her puppy eyes to her wife, only ever showing Akko this spoiled child within.

“I’ll only give you the very best.”

“With a little song?”

“Whatever you’d like

“Mm…” Diana nodded, looking down at her feet before raising her head, one last question on her mind. “Dance for me?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Akko laughed, nuzzling her nose on Diana’s. “But for now,” She pinches the taller witch’s nose playfully before planting a kiss. “This is for the kids.”

…

This is DEFINITELY NOT “for the kids”. For any kids. For anyone for that matter. Diana would never show this to anyone. Over her dead. Lifeless. Fucking. Body.

Nonononono. Diana shakes her head a thousand times internally.

No.

Just no.

Diana gasps as she drops her suitcase on the floor, the contents spilling out at the impact. She had not expected this of all things. She imagined coming home to an empty house, no Akko, and miserable reheated food.

She hadn’t expected unlocking her door to the smells of a rotisserie chicken, some wine, and Akko’s homely scent.

She wasn’t expecting the low thrum of music in the background. She didn’t think that her wife would stand in front of her, in her usual show outfit- no. Wait. This isn’t her show outfit.

Like hell she’d wear that to a children’s party!!

No, this. THIS… This is a knock-off Shiny Chariot costume that is far too skimpy to be sold to the young and pure fans of Chariot. This is one of those costumes you’d see them sell adults for dumb pranks on Halloween, or see it at those kinds of shops.

How did Akko even get that?

Online?

The internet is truly fearsome. Shameless. So Shameless.

And so is Diana as she gawks at her pretty wife, donning a very short white skirt, a top that very much exposes her midriff- technically, only holding together those perky mounds-, a cape that is probably the only thing covering her wife that can be counted as decent, thigh-high- gosh- those thigh-high boots, hair free of that small side pony-tail; and that signature white witch hat tops off the ensemble.

“Welcome home~” Akko greets with her usual cheer, expression innocent and beaming, before it shifts a sultry color, tone dropping into a hushed invitation. “Diana.”

Said woman is quiet, she struggles to form a response.

Akko.

‘Let’s try saying your wife’s name now, Diana Cavendish.’

“A-A-A-A… aaahhhh…”

Oh, Great Beatrix, give me strength.

A lot of it. A trolley’s worth, if you must.

���-and stamina. Please. Strength and stamina to endure.

And Clearly Diana isn’t wishing to hold her ground against temptation.

She might just have a long night ahead.

“Diana.”

“Y-yes! I’m l-listening. Very clearly… most…. Definitely…” She says whilst staring at the gracious amounts of cleavage-

“Of course you are, babe.” Akko chuckles in that sickeningly sweet tone, taking a step forward as Diana takes one back. “Where are you going?” She takes another, as does Diana in the opposite direction, her back meeting the hard wood of their front door.

“N-nowhere, I’m… I’m Home.” Diana feels her hands become clammy, shaking, as she wonders where to put them.

“Heh~… I thought you were running away or something.” Akko smiles kindly, actions not as kind. She traps Diana with her body, arms on either side of her head. “And I wouldn’t like that. Would you?” Her eyes flutter innocently, lashes long, eyes wide.

There was clearly only one correct answer.

“N-no.”

“Good.” Akko laughs like gentle chimes, pleasant to the ear.

Diana smiles, feeling a little more relaxed.

-Before one hand comes off the wall and now climbs up her torso, Akko’s index and middle fingers walking up to Diana’s tie before her hand takes it, pulling it out of the vest.

“I always liked it when you wore ties.” She murmured, eyes blank and scrutinizing the tie. Before Diana could respond, Akko was already resting her head on Diana’s chest, hand absent-mindedly twirling the thin red tie. “I also like that you wear my colors on you.” Akko raised her head, pulling on Diana’s tie so that their faces came so incredibly close to one another, lips a hair’s breadth apart. “Tells people that you're mine.”

That effectively steals the air out of Diana’s lungs as Akko steps back, still holding fast to the tie, pulling Diana along, as if on a leash. Her Japanese wife leads her to the living room and sits her down on their amazingly comfortable couch.

But not even that could ease Diana’s tense nerves.

“H-Hi.”

“Hi, Diana.” Akko greets back, leaning over her wife, a finger gliding from the base of Diana’s throat to her jaw, tipping it up to guide blue eyes up to meet the most intoxicating wine. “What was your last little request for me this morning, again?”

“I- I… uh… um…”

“Yes?” The brunette lowers her body onto Diana’s head tucked between the poor heiress’ shoulder and neck, peppering kisses along her jaw. “Please remember, darling. I really want to do it for you, you know?” She chuckles, biting on a certain spot near Diana’s throat making her yelp, then licking the area to ease the pain. “I prepared really well for it. I tried so hard for you.”

Definitely not the only thing that was hard, Diana thinks.

An uncontrolled whine tears its way out of the blonde’s mouth, mind desperately trying to remember what the hell she last asked.

Then it clicks.

“D-dance…”

“Hmm?”

“Dance for me…?”

Akko seems elated with her answer, nuzzling her neck once before pulling away, Diana missing her warmth… or heat. Or both.

“With pleasure.”

Diana is sure there will be a lot of pleasure involved.

With a flick of her wand (where had Akko hidden that?), a pole rises from the floor in the open space of the room. Akko stalks hypnotizingly towards it, grasping the hard metal with one hand before smoothly pulling herself into her first twirl.

‘Oh Great Nine. This is one of those dances, isn’t it?’

Diana swallows so painfully, finding her throat constricted, the opposite to her dilating pupils as she watches her wife with the focus of a predator waiting on its prey.

Off goes the cape, and Diana only now realizes just how little of her wife’s ass is actually covered by that skirt.

She loves Akko’s ass- She loves Akko. Period.

-along with her thighs and bottom.

She admires her better half’s toned body, muscles flexing and simply wonderful as Akko spins herself around the pole gracefully, hanging onto it with only one hand. The elegance of the movements allows Diana to forget her barely restrained arousal, leaving her in awe for a few moments.

Then a toned leg wraps itself around the pole, Akko rolling her body up against it, turning her gaze to Diana, eyes half-lidded and so sinful. All that talk about grace- screw it, right now.

Another twirl, and another, and another.

Akko climbs her way up the pole so sensually, Diana wishes she were the one being climbed like that. Then Akko stops near the top, almost as though she was frozen. Diana waits with bated breath, before Akko’s hands suddenly release the pole, falling backwards; and Diana panics, thinking something happened and her wife was about to hit the ground hard- but only the hat does so. Akko’s body hangs smoothly in the air, legs squeezing tight, flexing those amazing thighs.

Oh, to be between them instead.

The spinning restarts. Repeats over and over, legs stretching out, then pulling in. At times, an arm would reach out, almost as if it were inviting the audience in, to come closer; to come touch this performer. Then Akko lowers herself to the ground, movements sophisticated, nimble, body poised, and oh so sensual. It’s an interpretative dance, and there must be story behind it.

Diana just doesn’t have enough brain power to process it.

She gasps as her wife stands up; the skirt is forgone, leaving Akko in racy black panties that matches her top that might as well not exist. And again, she’s on that pole, embracing it, caressing it with one hand, down to her body, allowing her palm to slide down her chest to a taut stomach, abs glistening in sweat, before reaching down her legs, and between her thighs, then out, back to latching onto the pole.

The loss of garment shouldn’t distract her. She’s sure this action was to give her wife better grip on the pole. Definitely the reason. Yes. Not because this was… was a… that.

Of course.

Breaking the unspoken rule of silence, a voice suddenly begs for her attention.

“Diana…”

…

Fuck.

“Nnmm!”

Diana throws her head back for a second, needing to relieve her burdened senses at the sight that had just greeted her mere moments ago.

Akko had basically rubbed herself against the pole, her most intimate place surely touching it as she slid up then down, dropping into an air-split, barely hovering over the ground, still twirling, yet painfully slow this time, basically presenting herself to the very red mess breathing heavily on the couch.

Diana’s not sure she can stay seated anymore. She’s been holding back. She’s certain she can’t keep holding back.

“But why are you holding back?”

The question throws her for a loop, eyes so wide, as she stares at Akko’s tantalizing figure, draped over her pole, breathing as difficultly as Diana is.

She releases her show equipment, leaving the pole to disappear as she strides forward provocatively, halting in front of Diana, placing her hands down on the blonde’s open lap, freeing them from their squeezed-together position just moments ago. They massage at Diana’s thighs, and the heiress moans, unsuppressed.

Her dancer takes a seat on her lap, hands busying themselves with loosening Diana’s tie a bit more, removing it from her before Akko slings it around her own neck.

“You are so mean, Diana… even after I called for you so many times…” Akko whispers against her lips, eyes fiery and slightly angered. Diana’s hands are guided to rest on Akko’s hips as she grinds against her wife needily. “Utterly horrible.”

It should be the winter season as it was Christmas. Diana knows that the outside world was harshly cold and chilly, but that temperature did not seem to apply to her. Most definitely not within Diana, and most definitely not between her leee-heeeeg- ‘damn you, Akko’.

“Why would you not come for me?”

‘Which ‘come’ might we be discussing here’, Diana wonders.

“I… I didn’t know… my apologies.” Diana stutters out, distracted by the hand touching the inside of her thigh.

“Even when I made it so obvious?” Akko pouts, biting Diana’s shoulder angrily as her hands make quick work of the taller witch’s buttoned shirt. Those same hands splay against her collarbone and shoulders, caressing and teasing, moving to the back of her head to massage her scalp. The Head of Cavendish gets pulled into a long kiss, her significant other’s tongue pleading entrance as it licks along Diana’s full lips, thighs squeezing Diana’s legs.

Diana permits, giving the appendage access to explore her mouth completely, sometimes brushing against her gums, and gliding along her teeth, entangling with her own tongue. Akko pulls away with a rough nip on Diana’s lower lip.

The latter’s hand is held captive, guided somewhere along her lover’s body.

The heiress fails at hindering any sounds from escaping her as she feels hot liquid drip onto her fingers, before pooling into her open palm. So that’s where Akko had brought it.

“Diana.”

Her eyes are bewitching. Fitting of her occupation. They hold Diana’s gaze a prisoner, not against her will. They compel her to do something. Akko rubs against her once more, and Diana whimpers aloud.

“Diana.”

Arms tighten their loop against Diana’s neck. Akko’s voice still sounds calm and controlled, but her actions tell Diana that she is anything but. She’s basically riding her at this point.

“Diana.”

“Y-yesh?!” Hooded, dark, tempting. Akko’s eyes were all those things. And maybe Diana’s were too.

“Diana.”

“Yes…?” Diana feels a switch flip as her finger slips into that wet, heated space and makes Akko cry a lovely tone. She goes deaf to the world, all her focus on the woman shivering delightfully in her arms.

  “Diana…”

  “Yes…”

  “Dance with me.”

A/N: So… sequel?

~Shintori Khazumi

[thebeauregardbros]

“The Ultimate Character Questionnaire”: Alus Beauregard

a fuckton of random questions abt alus ramblingly answered

questions stolen from [here]. i cut out ones that ask the same questions i accidentally answered prior, or just didn’t interest me enough to answer, so if you wanna do this for your own OC I recommend copy+pasting it from the source!

Basic Character Questions

First name? Alus (pronounced ‘Ah-Loose’)

Surname? Beauregard (taken from adoptive father)

Nicknames? Alus wants to be called “Al” but it doesn’t stick because his name is already short. Lots of people unfortunately call him Alice. he does not like that

Date of birth? unknown but he celebrates his birthday on All Saint’s Wake (aka Halloween)

Age? Funfact: Alus and Arc’s age is the age between the RPers’ real-world ages (I’m 24, Arc’s player is 25, but for a brief period Arc’s player becomes 26 while I’m still 24.) So they’re going to be 25 this year (2020)... what the fuck. stop growing. dont do that.

Physical / Appearance

Height? I... he’s tall. Despite Alus being the max height for Miqo’te characters (5′8″/173cm), other male Miqo’te RPers say their characters are taller than that anyway, so I’m like.. not sure what to answer. I don’t want to break reasonable canon of what’s possible for Miqo’te but I also don’t want him to be short or average sized in comparison to other average Miqo’te. I’m just gonna say, definitively, “Alus is tall for a Miqo’te”. If you have a tall Miqo, Alus is just as tall. Or half an inch taller. Take that as whatever you want. I’m tired.

Weight? I... don’t know? This question really doesn’t clarify anything to me; people can be the same height and weight and look totally different in body type. If you absolutely had to get an answer from me, my best guess is maybe somewhere between 170lbs-180lbs? (assuming he is 5′8″)

Build? Wide shoulders, slender hips, long legs, big wide chest and a nice strong core. He is muscular; burly and brawny; his body type feels intimidating and large. He has a healthy amount of fat over his muscles, but still has much clearly visible muscle especially while flexing.

Hair colour? Golden blonde; it’s got a subtle yellow-ish tone that reminds you of sunshine.

Hair style? Alus’ hair is naturally thick and wavy. His hair is grown out long; about armpit length. His hair is choppy, even somewhat feathered. It’s a bit badly damaged from years on the road, but the split ends and fly-aways sparkle brilliantly in the sunlight like a messy halo around his head. His hair naturally very poofy, like damaged 80s hair. Long bangs that were once pushed back fall gracefully over his face like a wild child running about in spring. Whilst resting away from work, he braids it loosely.

Eye colour? Heterochromia; A raspberry red in one pupil, and a sun-shiny yellow-orange in the other.

Eye Shape? Thin and serious, and slightly down-turned. Small double-lid.

Glasses or contact lenses? His eyes are overall pretty healthy, but he’s slightly far-sighted. He uses glasses once in awhile to read, but they’re not super necessary.

Distinguishing facial features? Heterochromia and his adult male Miqo’te markings. He tends to wear purple eyeshadow around his eyes and a subtle purple lip tint.

Which facial feature is most prominent? The facial structure of Alus more resembles an Elezen than a typical Miqo’te; he has a long slender nose, a oval face shape and noticeably high cheekbones.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? Alus’ lion-like tail is somewhat unique among other typical Miqo’te.

Other distinguishing features? His style of dress tends to stand out in a crowd; he favors pure white and soft pastels over more popular color tones among adventurers like blacks and greys. Also unlike the typical adventurer, he is more want to wear fabrics of the fancy and soft nobleman, decked out in frills and lace like a prince locked far away in a chamber more than any man on a dusty and bloody battlefield.

Skin? Uh... a... “medium tan” skintone? (again I have no idea how tf I’m supposed to figure out labels for skin tones when there’s no widely used phrases for specific tones fghdjkgh) with a “warm gold undertone”. The small amount of skin that’s ever exposed upon him is surprisingly soft, as if he never did much hard work in his life. [SPOILER]Underneath his clothes, however...The countless scars upon his torso, back, legs and upper-arms are rough and hard, like treated leather.[/SPOILER]

Birthmarks? Not that he knows of. He has lots of scars from messing around in his childhood but he can’t remember the origin of them all. Any of them could be birth marks as far as he can tell.

Tattoos? None! And he never plans to get one. He has yet to see any tattoos that match his personal aesthetics of what he’d put on his body yet and even if he did, he can’t imagine liking them enough to want to get one.

Physical handicaps? [SPOILER]Numbness in various small patches of skin throughout his body.[SPOILER]

Type of clothes? I already answered this somewhat but if you’re curious about specifics, I made [this pinterest] of stuff I’d imagine he’d wear. Pretty much just take the “aristocrat” Japanese street fashion genre and turn it white, and give it a bit of a gold trim. Lots of frills and lace; heavily inspired by fantastical shoujo manga glorified depictions of what a Prince Charming looks like in medieval setting fairy tales.

How do they wear their clothes? Some (not all) of the specific guidelines I have in my head of what his wardrobe’s like; Colors are only pastels, white, or gold - once in a blue moon he might wear a rich dark raspberry red color or bright orange or yellow. He will NEVER wear grey or black. Pants have to be long enough to reach the ankles. He prefers wearing his shirts tucked-in. Clothes MUST fully cover everything on his body excluding head, neck, and hands at all times - low neckline acceptable in off-duty time. Under special occasions only (ie beachware); lower arms, top of feet or shins can be uncovered. He wears a lot of jabot ties.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) Alus takes his quality of fashion seriously. He’s the type of guy who wears expensive fancy soft white socks trimmed with gold nobody will ever see with the little suspenders on his legs to keep the socks from sagging down. He adores wearing white pointed dress shoes, especially if they have a bit of a high heel. Gold jewelry or buckles are lovely, and any shoe with lace, bows, ribbons, fancy beadwork or faux flowers are supreme. (Google image search ‘Bridal Boots’ if you wanna see his shoes. He’d seriously wear any of them.)

Race / Ethnicity? hhhhhhhhh it’s 5am man I dont have the energy to google faces until i find a reasonable faceclaim and try to figure out that person’s ethnicity... they’re Fantasy Characters... alus is a miqo’te.. maybe had some elezen or hyur in his lineage? idk

Mannerisms? Alus is like a living embodiment of a cartoon Disney prince. I don’t know how to better describe it; He’s elegant and gentle for the most part but can also so comically stiff you could mistake him for an automaton or a piece of background cardboard - then when the moment hits, he can spring into an unrealistic slapstick looney toon nightmare. He always seems to be in a constant state of floating between elegance, stiffness, and slapstick. There is never a break. There is never an in-between.

Are they in good health? For their active life circumstances of constant physical hardship, they are in amazingly good health.

Do they have any disabilities? I don’t think of ADHD as a disability (and I’m saying that as someone who has autism and most likely ADD or ADHD myself) but it’s classified by a lot of people as a disability. So yeah, uh, Alus absolutely has ADHD.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Definitely more optimistic, sometimes to a fault. I think there’s a degree of choice in there but he’s kinda lost the boundary between blind trust and trying to believe in people and situations because he morally wants to. He is still a worry wart, and that is what causes him to fight so hard as he does for making things around him better as well as making himself better - but I think he makes a very active effort of not letting anyone see that part of him, maybe in an effort to convince himself as well that everything is and will be okay.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted in a lot of ways and introverted in others. Alus loves and thrives around people, and I think he’s a bit more drained than the average person when he’s alone vs. being in a crowd, but he’s still living more as an introvert - one-on-one deep talks can make him extremely anxious. He’s great at the surface niceties but can often find himself too devoted to strangers, which leads him into trouble sometimes. He’s like a really great social co-worker and a extremely awkward off-duty member of society that doesn’t really know how to function or navigate normal relationships.

Do they ever put on airs? A b s o l u t e l y. Alus’ entire persona is carefully hand-crafted over a lifetime. It’s not to say “This isn’t who he really is, he’s a liar”, but moreso “He’s not quite the person he wishes he was yet.” He makes a really large effort to put on airs of this confident and beautiful Princely type of heroic figure straight out of a fairy tale where he simultaneously knows that such a goal is impossible, since this isn’t a story book - this is real life, he is flawed and complicated, and nothing is as perfect as you wish it was. But he keeps trying no matter what.

What bad habits do they have? Low-key bullying his brother, for sure. Arc is the only person Alus just can’t really put on airs with so his perfect image just breaks down around him. While Alus appears to be a very gentle and kind individual around other people, he’ll comically slap and roast his brother without mercy. (Don’t worry; it’s mutual between them.)

What makes them laugh out loud? Almost anything. Alus is definitely a big giggler, and an even bigger loud spontaneous laugher.

How do they display affection? There’s two major levels of it. First, it’s showering you with little gifts - sweets, flowers, even money if you’re in need, with nothing asked in return. If you’re very close to him, it’s skinship; he loves spontaneously hugging others and holding hands and all that kinda platonic stuff. He’ll pretty much not let go of your arm if you’re around him. He also loves dancing with people, you bet he’ll do the whole nine yards of weaving you around him, lifting you above his head and dipping you.

Mental handicaps? Hates being touched. He has some really bad memories of being manhandled and despises any type of physical restriction on himself, especially from people he doesn’t find VERY close to him. He hates even more to be seen in casual clothes, especially clothes that expose his skin. He’s really not a fan of his exposed body and it’s gonna take a lot for him to get over it. He’s slowly getting better but it’s a long journey.  

How do they want to be seen by others? Someone to look up to; someone to rely on. He wants to be the hope for humanity, essentially. He wants to inspire others to heroism and kindness just by seeing him, and he wants to make the world a better place just by existing in it.

How do they see themselves? Someone who’s just not good enough; Someone who needs to keep working to be better; someone who’s chosen destiny is to be the hero of humanity.

How are they seen by others? Probably as a weirdo. He definitely comes off as eccentric; his strange comedic ramblings and sudden dancing mid-conversation, as well as his random gifts and bag full of pranks, magic tricks and fireworks just really feel off-the-wall. His immediate devotion to others may also come off as exceedingly suspicious. I think how he dresses and his cafe also indicate he’s kind of the ‘rich unhinged guy’ stereotype. People who know him well though know that he’s an extremely good person who would give you the clothes off his back if you needed them more. He loves humanity and would do anything for it.

Strongest character trait? His stubborn devotion to his ideals, for sure. If he wants something, he’ll work his hardest to make sure it happens.

Weakest character trait? Far too trusting of strangers; he gets taken advantage of very easily, and he’s almost always happy to come back for more. He’ll even give the biggest villain a 2nd and 3rd and 4th chance. His inability to condemn anyone as truly evil may cause far more hardship for everyone in the long run than if he just chose to kill the person or lock them up indefinitely and be done with it.

How competitive are they? Alus thrives in competitive environments due to an absolute love and adoration for sportsmanship. He does a fantastic job making his competitors have fun and feels that a competition that is too one-sided doesn’t have any fun or worth. He loves difficult competition because he feels that it helps better himself and his rival.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Oh, he’s absolutely a “strike now while the iron’s hot” type of a guy. He knows that even a second of a wait can change things for the worse. He’s also definitely a philosophical type that thinks over every possible scenario in his mind in his off-time, but ultimately, he’ll always be the one running off to get things done as soon as they’re brought to his attention. He’s the opposite of his brother, who wants to slow things down before making rash decisions. Alus just knows those decisions need to be made, so it might as well be now, so he just gets it done and worries about the outcome later.

How do they react to praise? He’s actually probably never used to it. I think he has a bit of a low self-esteem problem in how he sees himself as never quite as good as he wants himself to be, so praise can catch him off-guard pretty easily. He’ll cover that up by clumsily stating something comically over-the-top like “Of course, I am incredible! I am the best! Mwahahaha!” but not before gasping for air and stuttering like a shy schoolgirl first.

How do they react to criticism? He has a great ability to deflect toxicity into positivity; he asks what people mean and tries to understand them. I think if the criticism can be taken as constructive, he’s always happy to take it. If the criticism is just plain mean, I think he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help the person he’s talking to - he knows nobody would say such mean things to another unless they were having a pretty bad day.

What is their greatest fear? Oh, y’know. Losing his brother. Slugs and slimy things. If you wanna get painful and philosophical about it, I think he’s terrified of the future. He tries to live in the moment and just do the best he can at all times, but when he sees that what he does doesn’t help a lot of the world to stay safe, it freaks him out. In his mind, he’s doing a lot, but in reality - it’s not much at the grand scheme of things. He tries not to think about it too much. He tries not to think much of the past either - of all the mistakes, of what he could and couldn’t have done. It frustrates him. I guess you could say his greatest fear is his own limits. It never feels like he’s doing enough, or even if he ever could do enough.

What are their biggest secrets? [SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY] Alus is absolutely disgusted with the military powers of the world, and the politicians. He tries to stay optimistic and bright on the outside - he stays useful and does what he can without complaint, he tries to lie to himself and say it isn’t too bad, tries to focus on the good these systems do, to be placated and trust his brother that things will work out alright in this setup - but he sincerely wishes that somehow they could be abolished entirely. He’s frustrated with the idea of any one person or power having control over the lives of others - people those single powers may never meet - will inevitably cause a lack of humanity and understanding of others. Nobody should have this power, not even him, not even the gods. As Alus’ writer, I don’t think he knows a good alternative, he just knows he’s seen enough immoral and inconsiderate shitfuckery in these systems that he can barely stand it anymore. I think many soldiers probably feel like this eventually. [/SPOILER]

What is their philosophy of life? literally just look at the [quote insp tag]

When was the last time they cried? I FEEL LIKE ALUS IS THE TYPE TO TEAR UP AT EXTREMELY COMMON SHIT TBH?? EVERYTHING IS SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING TYPE??

What haunts them? [SPOILER]Literally just... becoming a soldier or a fighter to begin with. He wishes it never happened, he wishes the world didn’t need fighting to begin with. But he knows he can never go back now, and even if he did, he’d probably still become a soldier all over again. It’s all he can do in this violent, terrible world.[/SPOILER]

What are their political views? Notable traits would supporting equality rights for Beastmen, more funding towards helping refugees, more funding to adoption agencies and orphanages, more transparency about tax profit and spending, creating opportunities for different countries to share their culture.. etc. (Note: I like to believe that larger glaring IRL political issues like lack of LGBTQ+ rights, gender inequality, ableism, skin-color-based racism and other large current inhumane social problems aren’t problems in FFXIV’s universe. If your RP character uses bigotry in accurate line of these IRL social issues as a character trait, you are not welcome in my RP circle. Period.)

What will they stand up for? He hates violence in general, so he’ll do whatever he can to stop it. Anyone who seems to be controlling or keeping other people against their will is something he loathes. No means no!

Who do they quote? Urianger. like a lot. Probably mostly accidentally; he picks up a lot of vocal mannerisms from the guy.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy, for sure. He grew up under the stars and being forced indoors for a long time will probably give him feelings of anxiousness and claustrophobia, especially if the space is small. He has had some bad experiences being unable to go outside so he takes his freedom to roam outdoors very seriously.

What is their sinful little habit? He loves sweets. This guy is all about boasting a healthy diet, but his weakness shows the exact opposite. More serious answer: He tends to procrastinate bad, especially when it comes to his passive military duties.

How do they treat people better than them? If they breathe, they’re royalty. Utmost respect and courtesy. Treats them as if he’s the royal butler to their fancy ass selves, even if they’re the lowest of the low in poverty.

How do they treat people worse than them? Honestly? Pretty much the same answer as above. If he gets truly angry at someone, he’ll tell them how and why straight-up, but he’ll never stop giving them the respect and courtesy he believes every human being deserves.

What quality do they most value in a friend? Someone who is as ridiculously open-hearted and ready to confess love to the nearest person along with anything else in the world as Alus tends to do, but also someone who pays close enough attention to him that they can tell when he’s in distress. Alus has a hard time speaking up about when he feels uncomfortable, so someone who has a talent for empathy - detecting other peoples’ emotions - would be incredibly invaluable. That’s the fastest way to his heart.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? None, and all. He thinks that if anyone gets carried away with any traditional virtue to the point that they’re causing evil in the world, they’re just misguided. He understands that - or at least actively wants to understand that - so he can forgive.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? He... honestly thinks of himself as more of an Elezen than a Miqo’te. So anything that ‘gives away’ that he’s a Miqo’te, he could probably do without. He likes his ears and his tail though! But maybe if he was taller? lmao. (I don’t intend to ever Fantasia Alus FYI, MAYBE if male viera comes out and my partner agrees to it AND I have absolutely no active RP going on, but it’s very unlikely, and if it does happen it will be considered a retcon, not a character development)

What is their obsession? Definitely his aesthetics. He spends an incredibly large amount of time, effort, and money on making himself look and properly act like a “fairy tale prince charming”. It’s not only a philosophical mindset of being moral and heroic, but also being charming and supportive to everyone around himself. He honestly hopes and believes that if he succeeds in creating and upholding this image that every person who rests their eyes upon him will be filled with determination and hope that heroism and safety is real.

What are their pet peeves? He disapproves of the glorification of alcohol, smoking, or any other vices that are bad for the average person’s health. He won’t turn away the people with these vices as potential friends, but he’ll certainly be tempted to lecture them on it. He is also really not a fan of casual skinship between strangers, nor is he a fan of an aggressively pessimistic attitude, nor will he ever really be used to people who wear very little clothing (He isn’t disapproving of the sex industry or sex workers per say, he just doesn’t ‘get it’; he could never imagine himself in their shoes), nor is he a fan of other people trying to change him to be more chill about his aesthetic code (how he dresses, how he positively interacts with others, etc.) - but he tends to be more quiet about his dislike of these things. He tries to stay open minded and patient, but yeah, maybe it’ll take a bit longer to get to ‘close friend’ status with these things.

What are their idiosyncrasies? (special mannerisms?) His posture tends to be stiff as a board: too perfect, like some sort of breathing statue or mechanic humanoid, while at other times it’s as if a switch is flipped to make him become a crazy slapstick ragdoll. He tends to speak in a constant fluctuation of ‘ye olde English’ and common casual speech, and he keeps a few feet distance from people he isn’t especially close with at all times. He’s generous with money and far too trusting of strangers to the point it feels like an overblown parody of these traits. He’s painfully optimistic and takes compliments first with a moment of surprise before he adjusts his reaction with over-the-top narcissistic vigor. He’s a constantly faltering image of himself. He’s a walking symbolism of good-hearted chaos.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? The only people Alus regards as true family is his twin brother, Arc, and his late adoptive father, Gwenneg. There are other Beauregards in the world, and other great “found family”-esque friends yet to make, but Alus cannot imagine them ever meeting the kind of friendship and connection he has with his brother and had with his father. Perhaps he’s tried in the past, but it just never feels the same. He’s at the point he’s given up on the idea of it happening casually.

What is their perception of family? A close-knit group that is always there for eachother, practically living at eachother’s hips. The type of people you can just glance at and they can read your mind, and even if they disagree with you, they’ll go along with you and fix it later. They’re always up for improving eachother. They are essentially extensions of oneself, and like limbs, even if such is cut - it is carefully looked after and healed, the rest of the body worries and tries to better it, never blaming it’s limb for not being good enough. All part of one system.

Describe their best friend. Arc is undeniably Alus’ best friend. I feel a bit weird talking about my friend’s OC for them, but I will say this; Arc’s strengths are in his slow and strategic approach to things; his love of politics and ability to glide through them, the way he finds the best routes and setups in battle, the timing, everything down to the little tiniest details to turn a battle of either wits or blood - he thinks over all of it, something Alus lacks. And despite being much less prone to trust than the willingly naive Alus, he can find the good in just about anybody when it really comes down to it. Arc knows the dark side of this world and is constantly aware and remembering of it, but understands it’s still worth fighting for. He’s also got a pretty good fashion sense! He seems extremely shady when it comes to his bar business though... It seems to be played up as a joke, but you’re never quite sure as you’re talking to him about it.

Ideal best friend? In assumption this means ‘a best friend besides Arc’, I think Alus’ standards are low. Of course, he’d love to have someone who shares his basic interests of aesthetics and his moral philosophy that centralizes on a love for humanity, and the honor and strength of action to act on it, but he also wants to know someone who can teach him a lot. I think that type of person could be absolutely anyone, especially someone that is nothing like him. Alus doesn’t want to necessarily completely change himself through the journey of knowing anothers’ life, nor change someone else entirely either, even if it’s for the better. He just wants mutual understanding with others. He finds a joy that can be found nowhere else when he feels two people, who don’t have anything in common, can find a common ground. This kind of thing excites him. I think something in-between -- someone who is a lot like him in a lot of ways, but has a few traits he lacks completely -- is ideal for him. 

Describe their other friends / Describe their acquaintances. (combo’d) Alus doesn’t really have other people he regards true friends, I think. He kinda regards every person he meets as his friends. That’s really all there is to it for him.

Do they have any pets? No pets, just a lot of animals that follow him around for food scraps and snacks. He always has an open window for birds and butterflies, and an open door to dodos and chickens and stray cats. He enjoys the company of birds the most, though he’s a fan of the loyal doggy too. In terms of his mounts - He mainly only claims ownership over his military-issued chocobo for paperwork purposes, but regards her as a friend without a voice more than an animal under his ownership.  

Who are their natural allies? Anyone who agrees for humanitarian rights, I think. Alus just exists to be a hero, really.

Who are their surprising allies? People he once fought. He always reaches out a hand for people who’ve made mistakes and tells them that he’ll be their friend if they agree to stop their mean-spirited behavior.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Equal combination “good kid” and “absolute little shit”; On the surface, he’d always be loyal to his father and polite to strangers, but the second he and his brother got some time to themselves they’d get into all kinds of shenanigans - especially if they manage to find some way to conceal their identity. Most of those shenanigans were pranks trying to scare people with All Saint’s Wake-esque props. They were also a time they were absolutely not above purposely trying to confuse people on which brother was which whenever it was convenient or just funny.

Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor, but I think he still thought himself as lucky. He might not have had a big room to himself or a lot of possessions, but he got to travel the world and meet so many interesting people and see so many interesting things in his father’s caravan.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured for sure. His family were joined at the hip.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? I’m sure Alus used to have a potty mouth when he was a kid and young teen. He picked it up from being exposed to so many different individuals growing up. If he’s been around a lot of sailors in Lima Lominsa, I think it’s a safe bet that he probably swore like one too. After his father died that changed almost immediately though in order to honor his dad’s memory.

What is their greatest achievement? I’m sure there’s much more impressive individual achievements he has accomplished - monsters he’s fought, hostage situations he’s negotiated, villains he’s managed to persuade to become heroes, but if you asked him, he’d tell you that simply being lucky enough to be chosen to become one of the Warriors of Light or opening his cafe are the achievements he’s most proud of.

What was their first kiss like? [spoiler]Still haven’t had it![/spoiler]

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? I feel like even though Alus adored his father, he probably did a lot of things to make him worried or stressed out, maybe even ran away once or twice just for the fun of it. It was a lot more innocent time for Alus and I don’t think he’d do anything like that in adulthood.

What are their ambitions? Alus just wants to end all war. Full stop. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t really know the most effective way how to, though. He just keeps doing whatever he can when people request his help - which usually ends up taking advantage of his physical combat skills.

What advice would they give their younger self? Cherish this time. Hug your father and tell him you love him more often. And maybe focus on being a medic or someone who helps the world peacefully more than someone who uses violence to solve the world’s problems. Maybe care a little more about politics.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Chamomile, road dust, seasalt,  and old fancy dusty antiques. 

What was their childhood ambition? To grow up to be a glamorous warrior that saves the world again and again and to rescue a pretty princess.

What is their best childhood memory? Dancing on the streets of Ul’dah with his brother for a little extra pocket money and becoming unexpectedly popular.

What is their worst childhood memory? Losing his father to the calamity and being passed between temporary foster homes again and again, then finally losing his brother in that mess, too.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Alus left out honeyed milk for faeries all the time as a child. Post-calamity, he started to quietly make-believe that faeries and little unicorns visited him when he was particularly lonely or bored, or just wanted to escape his own mind for awhile.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? [FFXIV POST-STORMBLOOD SPOILER]Hearing about Zenos’ body being revived against Zenos’ wishes for a perfect death.[/SPOILER]

What past act are they most ashamed of? Any time Alus can’t save someone from death. Sometimes, Alus must be the one to kill them himself. This is an unbearable sin to bear for him.

What past act are they most proud of? Any time he can save someone. Any time he can help the suffering of someone by giving a little coin. Every time he has made someone smile. It is all the most cherishable, wonderful memories to him. None better than the others.

Has anyone ever saved their life? His twin brother Arc probably on at least a weekly basis. I think saving eachothers’ lives is a regular thing on a battlefield, even if your ally is basically a stranger.

Strongest childhood memory? Just sitting underneath the stars, curled up under a blanket with his brother while they rest their head on their father’s lap as he reads them bedtime stories.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Absolutely. Guy will trust anyone at the drop of a hat, why not fall in love, too?

Are they in a relationship? Not officially, no. I think he casually flirts a lot and has gone out on sporadic dates with many people, but he hasn’t become anyone’s “steady”.

How do they behave in a relationship? Alus is extremely inexperienced. I think he’ll end up trying so hard to show off to whoever he’s dating that he’ll become exhausted. He wants to treat his future spouse like royalty.

When did you character last have sex? [SPOILER]Never![/SPOILER]

What sort of sex do they have? Nothing kinky or out there, he’s a shy confused mess to begin with when it comes to sex - he’s probably very reserved and traditional about it. I should note that Alus is canonically asexual, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet. He doesn’t really understand the appeal of sex but he’d want his significant other to be happy. [NSFW/18+] He’d definitely insist on being a top, though. [/SAFE!]

Has your character ever been in love? As an greyromantic writer, I have no fucking solid idea what romantic love is supposed to be defined as. If you define it as ‘fantasizing about having a certain person in mind as a future spouse’ then, yes, Alus has been in love loads of times.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Many times, but it rarely gets him down for too long - he’ll fall in love with the next person he sees, then the cycle restarts.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? A fake, forced smile. Explaining calmly to the enemy that what they’re doing is wrong. Explaining calmly to the enemy to drop it and go drink tea with him instead. If being calm doesn’t work, yelling at them about their hypocritical morality like some sort of shounen superhero making a speech.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, for sure. Alus will be so painfully reasonable with his enemies that the only way he’s drawing his sword to fight is someone else draws first.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Like any hero, he’s a sucker for hostages. Also, math completely turns him fucking stupid. [SPOILER]Also... having his morality questioned, especially being accused of being a hypocrite.[/SPOILER]

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? A faerie tale storybook from his childhood his father read to him often when he was alive.

How do they perceive strangers? “A friend he doesn’t know yet.”

What do they love to hate? I don’t really imagine Alus truly ‘hates’ anything or anyone, just greatly dislikes or disapproves of them. And even then I think he doesn’t particularly enjoy disliking them. I don’t think he views negative feelings as something to be prideful over.

What are their phobias? Slugs and other slimy creatures, as well as mild situational claustrophobia.

What is their choice of weapon? His fists, for sure; there’s some sort of philosophy inside his mind that fighting with his bare hands or body without tools or weapons to aid him is the ultimate form of respect towards other human beings’ pain and livelihood - he wants them to know he shall feel pain right back if he strikes someone else, and he’s allowing himself the possibility to be hurt in return.

What living person do they most despise? I think anyone who justifies war or pain as a glorious and wonderful thing instead of a tragedy is someone he dislikes. Especially if said person has no respect for human life or the bodies of the fallen.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? Plenty. Unfortunately mostly his given name is particularly targetted. He’s also been called too soft plenty of times.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home - his house is well soundproofed and cozy. He may go on an off-trail walk alone in the middle of Thanalan or the like.

Who are their enemies and why? The Garlean army, the Ascians.. do you really need to ask why? They wish to create death and chaos, that’s plenty of a reason enough.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Maelstrom military field medic, café proprietor, free paladin

What do they think about their current job? The café is seemingly always empty, but he doesn’t mind continuing to pour money into it. It’s a safe haven to him and a symbol of his independence from the violent life of military duty. Being a field medic is endlessly horrifying, but he’s glad he can help people. His status of Free Paladin makes him obligated to carry out duties to help Eorzea, which is something he’s proud of - but he is always not all that great at drawing his sword at the sign of trouble.

What are some of their past jobs? The only other “jobs” Alus has had in the past were mostly just side jobs for a little extra pocket money, mostly dancing on the street.

What are their hobbies? Dancing, capoeira martial arts, piano, tea brewing, baking, reading, writing, sketching, watercolor art, goldsmithing, fashion, bird keeping.

Educational background? Went to a school for accounting for a few years. He retained absolutely no information about accounting.

Intelligence level? Literate; can read older more complex texts easily. Good with maps. More of a “physical education” kinda guy.

Do they have any specialist training? Paladin training. Nothing else formal.

Do they have a natural talent for something? Weirdly incredibly good at parkour - stuff like navigating tightropes and climbing up buildings without any hesitation or struggle.

What is their socioeconomic status? At the moment, Alus is pretty well-off. He and his brother own their own business in the Lavender Beds, and Alus can afford high class clothes, hobbies, furniture and the like. He’s also prone to donate to charity near constantly.

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? whatever birds are ROUND

Which animal to they dislike the most? S L U G S

What place would they most like to visit? His cafe, honestly. It’s a safe haven.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? People.

What is their favourite song? Simply Satie

Music, art, reading preferred? Alus loves playing piano, drawing sketches and reading storybooks. I don’t think he could trade one for the other! (He’s awful at singing though.)

What is their favourite colour? Pale blue, white, yellow-gold, and pastel pink.

What is their password? “Password”. Nobody will ever get it!

Favourite food: La Noscean toast! (AKA French toast!) with lots of berries and whipped cream!

Who is their favourite artist? ??? ((OOC: if Alphonse Mucha was in FFXIV it’d be him idk))

What is their favourite day of the week? E V E R Y D A Y (but probably mostly Sunday)

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Fresh salad, fruits, fresh berries, vegetables, tofu, jackfruit, orange juice, leftover strawberry shortcake, protein shakes, leftover rice, eggs, butter, yogurt, frozen berries... and even fresh flowers?

What is on their bedside table? A dozen lighthearted fairytale and academic books on aether he recycles through reading every night as he goes to bed, a pitcher & glass of water, a vase with a flower in it, reading glasses, 3 inch tall lil stuffed dodo.

What is in their bin? Compost bin for old fruits/vegetables/egg shells/bread and a recycling bin full of paper and packaging garbage.

What is in their bag? A lot of coin, a hairbrush, a box of ice chilled flowers, travel-size beauty products, lots of fireworks and other fun little spectacle toys, a pocket-sized book of poetry, a basic armor polishing set, a miniature sewing kit, bandages, healing potions.

What is their most treasured possession? A very old and damaged book of fairy tales from his childhood.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? His adoptive father - at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes! Very much so.

What are their religious views? [SPOILER]Alus has a complicated relationship with religion. For the most part of his life, he’s believed in The Twelve like every other Eorzean, but as he’s grown older he’s found himself more and more impatient and even disgusted of the cruelties that the gods allow to happen, and the ways followers of Nald’thal and Halone use their religion as a means to prey on the weak for the sake of money, classism, and racial disparity. Hearing the words of Garlean soldiers point out that proof that The Twelve exist is seemingly nonexistent has further disrupted Alus’ belief in them. Alus does, however, firmly believe in Hydaelyn.[/SPOILER]

What do they think heaven is? Alus has no true confident belief in what exactly the seven heavens are, but he likes to think heaven is a place where flowers bloom all the time, the weather is always warm and sunny, bugs don’t bother you and war and violence never happen, and relaxing tea parties are hosted all day long, clothes are comfortable and pretty and never soiled by dirt and mud no matter how much you play in the grass.

What do they think hell is? Like many Eorzeans, Alus believes in the seven hells. The seven hells are a place that one must climb out of to eventually make it to heaven, and depending on how bad of a person you were in life, the deeper in hell you start out in after you die, and the more you have to climb before you get upward into heaven. Alus finds great comfort in this ideology because it means that no matter how bad a person was in life, they may still find forgiveness and redemption in death.

Are they superstitious? I think he’s open-minded. He seems to discover so many legends of being real every day that it’s difficult for him not to believe in anything and everything he hears. He tries to be respectful of the unknown and follow their rules, but when push comes to shove it’s all about the grandest happiness for everyone - he will challenge whatever fae or ghostly apparition that wants to mess with him if he thinks what they’re doing is immoral or unfair. 

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A stream. A rosebush. A rainbow. Something that others can look at and feel at peace, something for others to enjoy. A way to give love without living a life that inevitably creates suffering through heroism. To just exist as part of the beauty in the world.

How would they like to die? He doesn’t know. Death scares him. He does not want to die in battle. He does not want to die sleeping in a bed. But he wishes he’ll be old. He wishes he’ll have lots of friends. And he wishes he did everything he could while he was alive to make the world a better place as much as he possibly could.

What animal is most like your character, spiritually speaking? .... A golden retriever. Eager to please, extremely loving and loyal, a strong body, picky about weird things, and incredibly goofy.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Betrayal?? torture?? bullying?? rape?? what do you want from me. He hates all forms of toxic and violent behavior!!

What is their view of ‘freedom’? The ability to form your own path; the ability to be whatever you want, even if the dream seems impossible to everyone else. The ability to go anywhere you want, walk and run anywhere you want, travel anywhere you want. The ability to say no when you want. The ability to be respected as independent.

How often do they lie? NEVER!!!!!!! He might bend the truth a little bit or side-step an answer but even white lies he’s not into. He rarely needs to white lie about anything anyway; he tends to see the best in everything.

What’s their view of lying? BAD AND UNNESSESARY

How often do they make promises? Constantly.

How often do they keep or break their promises? He 100% keeps his promises unless he’s literally physically incapacitated and in which case he will apologize and try to make it up to you so much

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Vegetarian. He eats really healthy and he eats a lot. Big fan of asian food I think. Has no problems eating stuff that’s bland as hell; I feel like it’s part of his determination to better himself. Has a terrible weakness for sweets, though. Secretly hates stuff that’s slimy, like mushrooms, but he will never complain if it’s given to him.

Do they have any allergies? Nope, he’s lucky. If he does, he hasn’t discovered it yet.

Describe their home. Very white, tons of gold nouveau trim on everything, and tons of flowers everywhere. Looks like the home of royalty. [Here’s his housing aesthetic.]

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Neither, I think. Maybe leaning closer to minimalist over clutter-lover; he likes everything being clean and easy to access in his house. His design aesthetic of nouveau isn’t necessarily minimalist in inherent style though imo.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Wakes up extra early, takes a quick cool shower to wake himself up, eats a quick and simple breakfast full of protein; most likely something with a lot of nuts and eggs as it’s ingredients + big salad. packs a simple lunchbox and starts his day: Every morning, he walks to the statues of Nald and Thal, viewing the warm pink sunrise in the process. he pays his respects to each; cleans and dusts with a simple cleaning kit he’s left there prior. Leaves some simple offerings. Finds somewhere nice and empty in Thanalan to do some excercises and martial arts training for the day. sits down and eats lunch afterwards. lazily walks home, takes another quick shower to get the sweat and dust off. while his hair is drying, he puts on makeup and decides a proper outfit to wear for the day. meets up with arc, goes on their obliged military-issued mission for the day.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Makes an effort to drag Arc over to his place for a big fancy dinner. Tea and crumpets as an early evening appetizer. Alus cooks everything while Arc hangs out and talks, lending a bit of help when Alus demands asks for him. Arc sneaks in alcohol. Alus yells at him. repeat next week.

What do they do on a Friday night? this but like, outside, alone, in the middle of thanalan somewhere

What is the soft drink of choice? If soft drinks existed in Eorzea I can’t help but feel like Alus is one of those freaks who don’t like any of them.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? NO

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? This question originally linked to some basic archetypes, but I already have TVtropes collected and they’re far more interesting as an answer imo SO: [All-Loving Hero], [Reluctant Warrior], [Cloudcuckoolander], [Warrior Poet], [Stepford Smiler], [Motor Mouth], [Large Ham], [Stupid Good], [In Touch With His Feminine Side], [The Fashionista], [Light Is Good], [Flower Motifs], [Declaration of Protection].

Who is their hero? I don’t think Alus has a specific person in mind that isn’t fictional - fact is, nobody is as perfect as the type of person he strives to be. I think he finds traits of admirable heroism everywhere in people, though. Everything from his friends who fight for the good of the world no matter what, from the villain who unexpectedly saves someone while nobody else is watching, to the single mother who works hard to raise her children, to the homeless people who just continue to fight on to live even when everything feels so hopeless around them. I think he sees traits in others he wishes he had all the time. He wants to embody all the good traits of everyone. And I should mention, if one is to have a ‘hero’, it is expected that person to be better than one, yes? I don’t think Alus believes he’s particularly better than anyone else, especially in their positive traits.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Alus goes HARD on All Saint’s Wake. He and Arc’s signature best costume always ends up being these hyper-realistic ghost costumes that they trick out with special glamours, magic, and tech to surprise the passerby. If it doesn’t genuinely scare someone, it isn’t enough!

Are they comfortable with technology? I think he’s absolutely got the boomer brain when it comes to allagan technology. He can get by fixing old mechanical clocks and the like but when it comes to allagan stuff, he’s just absolutely out of his element. He’ll certainly listen if someone wants to try explaining it to him, but it’ll take considerable time before he fully “gets it” and usually when he does, it’s more on blind faith and an ability to follow basic directions more than true understanding. I think in general it just doesn’t really interest him and if he’s going to spend the time and energy to learn about it, he’d rather use that energy on his other interests - books, physical training, baking and the like. (Modern AU: He’s absolutely the guy still using an ancient flip phone because “It still works!” Also, he capitalizes and uses perfect grammar in all his extremely-hard-to-type number code texts.)

If they could save one person, who would it be? It’s a difficult question, because of course - the first person to come to mind is Arc. But the thing is, Arc can take care of himself. And Alus knows this. Alus trusts this. So when it comes down to choosing between Arc and someone less capable.. Alus will most likely help the less capable person. If Arc is hurt, Alus knows he’ll forgive him. But if Arc were to die? And it be Alus’ fault? It would utterly crush him.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Arc, of course. There’s nobody Alus would rather have by his side while dealing with problems.

What is their favourite proverb? “Since it is likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and courage.” – C.S. Lewis (Personally my fav proverb in thinkin about Alus is “Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.” – Hermann Hesse)

What is their greatest extravagance? This is kind of a depressing and even controversial answer, but it’s honestly any time he has ducked out from military duty with or without permission when all of it has just gotten to him too much. He knows that him not being there will be more of a problem than a solution - he knows that - but any moment he can just pretend, for a moment, that he’s just a normal man running a normal little girlish cafe during a time without war.. That’s his greatest extravagance.  

What is their greatest regret? The amount of enemies he has been forced to down when talk wasn’t enough is piling higher and higher every moon cycle. It’s an absolute horror. He tries so hard to be nonlethal as possible. He’s studied so much how to avoid vital organs, how to down someone without hurting them badly, but no matter what there is always the chance of there being a prior injury he didn’t know about, or a undiagnosed medical problem that was just activated by the smallest knock.. That isn’t even to mention the people who have been hurt because the people he talked down didn’t keep their word or stood back up when he thought they’d stay asleep. No matter what, he just isn’t enough to save everyone. Why is it that no matter how hard he works to have this ideal of pacifism, it never works completely? Why is it never enough?

What is their perception of redemption? That the unwavering truth of this world is that people are fundamentally capable of change. He refuses to believe otherwise, no matter what. Perhaps it is an active choice instead of an instinctual one, nobody is certain for Alus’ mindful case. He believes the expectation for lifelong punishment for a past crime is petty and cruel, and in itself deters people from switching sides for the better. He believes anyone and everyone deserves the right to have the choice to right their wrongs at any time. Don’t misunderstand though - He understands sometimes people are far too gone for simply dropping everything they’ve done and that’s enough to erase their mistakes - he knows that some people can only find rightful redemption in the afterlife after execution, even if execution is not an ideal solution to stopping them in his eyes. But he prays for them. He’ll never give up on anyone.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Back into investments or savings to get an even bigger profit later. Alus knows how to play the smart long game. But uh... If the fates play a trick and he sees a beautiful fashion piece in a shop window, maybe that won’t last too long. He’s also notoriously overly generous with money to the needy, he spends money on service tips like pouring water out of a glass. Money is always moving, and if he starts to run low, he just works a little harder to get back to the comfort zone. He’s in a pretty good place in his life monetarily wise atm already.

What is their favourite fairytale? It’s difficult to answer this because I don’t know what sorts of stories exist in Eorzean canon! But I can say that the real-world 1986 manga “The Sword of Paros” is a huge inspiration to Alus’ character. It’s about a person born with the title of ‘Princess’ who believes to have been born the wrong gender, and does everything in their power to prove themselves worthy of the title of ‘Prince’ despite immeasurable odds against them from their family and their country. The hero also falls in love with a commoner woman who wishes nothing more to be loved by the idyllic image of a charming knight in shining armor that comes and rescues her, and their love is ultimately tragic as it’s also not recognized as valid.. but the prince never stops fighting for his title and the right of his love, and the ability for them both to be happy. Though the story ends without the ideal conclusion, the very concept of these characters fighting against all odds for something genuinely better for the whole world is something Alus is really all about. (Also, seriously, read this manga. It’s groundbreaking. It’s Utena done right.)

What fairytale do they hate? Any faerietales that have unhappy endings, or seem to focus strongly on tragedy or pessimistic ideas of realism in the world. That tends to fall into the category of ‘cautionary tales’ most the time. He’s also really not a fan of stories with body horror or gore.

Do they believe in happy endings? I think he believes that happy endings should always be the goal, but I don’t think he truly accepts that they actually exist. He understands that happiness and safety is always temporary, and this is why he should always strive to make the world a better place. If he helps someone get to a point that they’re happy, healthy, and safe - he’ll just move on to the next person who needs his help. A happy ending for himself though? I think he’s not confident in it, but he wants to live every day to the fullest as he can before he dies. He accepts this as part of his duty - he knows he’s living on ultimately borrowed time.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Being in love, being surrounded by people you love, having the support of others you trust and having the ability to spoil the people you care about. Having a home you’ll never be kicked out of.. And no war that you have to leave to. No people you have to harm. Just the peace to drink tea with your former enemies as you gaze out onto flowers on a warm day... That’s all he ever wants.

What would they ask a fortune teller? I think he’s concerned if he’ll ever someone to truly share his life with besides his brother. He just really wants a good friend.. Ideally, someone attractive he can hold the hand of!

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Before the Calamity. He’d just want to listen to his father tell him a few more stories again. He misses the peacefulness of his childhood, the certainty that someone out there stronger than him loved him and wanted to keep him safe, the ability to ignore his own call to war... He wouldn’t so selfish to want to try and bend fate enough to save his father, though he would if he had the chance.. But he knows it’s impossible.

What sport do they excel at? (Modern AU) He was definitely a cheerleader in highschool and/or college, I feel like. Probably into dancing! And ofc a dedicated martial artist. I feel like he’d be pretty good at football and wrestling too - games that require a bulky build to be great at - but he just doesn’t have a particular interest in either of those.

What sport do they suck at? (Modern AU) Probably stuff like archery and tennis -  not only would he’d thrive better in big team sports, he’s just not much for long-range dexterity. He’d also be absolutely incompetent as an esports competitor lmfao.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Anything that was especially effective at saving peoples’ lives. Time travel to stop mistakes before they happen or say the right thing before a war breaks out, super effective healing powers... anything. Just to stop suffering and death.

[laughing-with-god]

Pen Pal 1.5

Summary- As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you.  In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook.  The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad.

Warnings- Yandere/Prisoner Jungkook x Reader.  Mature themes.  Mention of mental disorder.

Words; 5.4k

“Have you ever felt so connected to someone that you didn’t understand why they were inside another skin and inhabiting a different body than you?”

He supposed that he should’ve been more displeased with where he landed himself.  

A cage of a jail cell that was six by eight feet and enclosed with brick walls that were so old, the paint was chipping off more and more each day.  The only entrance and exit being the harsh bars of the metal doors where a police officer could always be seen patrolling the passage ways, eyeing inmates with a judgmental glare as if he knew each and every one of their stories and how they were menaces to society.  

But if Jungkook was being true to himself, he couldn’t find any need to relate to his fellow prisoners fantasies of being in the outside world once again.

He had no desire to integrate back into society.  

He hated the world for a long time.

He hated how obnoxious and fake people were in the modern era.  He hated how capitalistic and money hungry the economy was. He hated how surface level and crude the general community was.  

From the time he was born, his peers would only approach him because they had hopes of being friends with the son of a rich power-broker.  

They would smile to his face and claimed to like him, but behind his back they would complain about how ‘boring and weird’ he was.  

Indeed, as a youngster Jungkook had been very introverted.  

He loved drawing, and this caused looks of confusion as most boys his age would enjoy a game of football or soccer more than doodling.  The only reason he got invites to playdates or birthday parties was due to his family’s social status. He was quick to catch on when his ‘friends’ would always push to go to his house, to play with his toys and to drop the Jeon name when bragging to other people about the ‘friendship’.  

However as Jungkook got older, the less he cared about such trivial matters.  As an insecure little boy, it bruised him quite a bit. But as an older teen, he accepted it as a harsh reality.  No one liked him for him, yet it wasn’t as tragic as it sounded. Because, he didn’t accept them for who they were either.  The world and Jungkook had a mutual understanding for each other. He despised them for it used him.

So when he went and got himself locked up, he really didn’t have that much remorse for what he would miss of the outside world.  The criminal psychologist said he had a problem with feelings in general; having a low emotional capacity for settings or situations but a heightened one for certain people in his life.  But Jungkook paid this analysis no mind. After all, how many different settings, situations or people can he encounter while serving a life-time sentence at one of the most highly guarded prisons in the country?

He did what he had done, and he was at peace with everything concerning the matter.  

When other inmates would rant about how they missed very basic things of life; non-cafeteria food, going to parks, having your own home and schedule, Jungkook didn’t care for the sentiment at all.  In fact, he thought they were weak to not even be able to handle prison. Really, how bad was it? You got a bed to sleep on, a toilet to shit in and was fed three time a day. With the way these fuckers ranted, you would’ve thought they were world war soldiers talking about home life whilst serving in the trenches.  Pathetic, really.

One day, Jungkook walked into his cell after a decent work out only to spot a pristine and angelic white envelope on his bed (more like a slab of metal with a cheap blanket on top but what did you expect of a cell?). This caused Jungkook to quirk a brow at the odd sight, he was pretty particular with boundaries and it annoyed him to see his roommate not respect his space.  

“Joon, I told you not to leave shit in my area.”  Jungkook motonously commented to his cell mate that was currently on the top bunk, book in hand.  This caused the older to peek from his spot above and glance down at the lower bunk.  

“Uh...that’s not mine.  Plus it has your name on it and everything, bro.”  

Jungkook sighed and pressed his tongue against his cheek in an angry tick that he had adopted years ago.  He really just wanted to head to the showers and he couldn’t imagine who would be writing to him. His family having disowned him for his crimes and everyone else having forgotten him or shunning his existence like he had the plague.  Not that he was too disappointed with these developments, he could spend the rest of his days without a word from anyone from the outside and he would still die content.

With a huff, he snatched the envelope and opened it with very little grace.  

‘Dear Mr. or Miss. Prisoner…..’

Jungkook’s doe eyes skimmed passed the delicate but noticeably rushed handwriting, soaking in the words with hesitance at such unexpected vulnerability from an utter stranger.  It wasn’t a long letter (Jungkook was finished reading it after 30 seconds or so) but he plopped himself on his bed to re-read the letter when he was done, showers somehow forgotten.

Said person who wrote to him managed to sound very weak and tired through diction alone.  However, this moment of weakness from the stranger was somehow not at all judged by Jungkook.  This revelation startled the prisoner himself, given that he had always made it a habit to look down on those whom lacked the mental strength that he did.  A fucked up social darwinism philosophy that was only heightened by being around meager sheep while he was a full on ruthless psycho. But why? Why did he feel pity this time instead of the usual disgust whenever someone was so bare and raw to him?  

The answer was simple.  

He related to you.

He felt as though you had put it best into words exactly what he felt when he was living out there in the public.  The world was scary and he didn’t blame you for being paranoid or locking yourself up. He could practically feel your fear from where he was; locked in a tiny cell and miles upon miles away from civilization.  He got the sense that you were different, like him. Most people he had encountered in his lifetime have always been okay with how the world was, not acknowledging the sinister characteristics that came along with it.  Authenticity was oozing from your writing as you did way more than just acknowledge the bad; you did your best to stay away from it all together. In a weird way, Jungkook found this cute. You were like a frightened child that hid under your bed to avoid the evil babysitter, escaping was your pure and innocent plan of action.  Which was different from Jungkook’s more violent actions….but he concluded he liked the contrast between you two. While you decided to take it out on yourself and starve yourself from stimulation just to keep away from the barbaric world, Jungkook took it upon himself to make everyone else pay.

“It it that stupid Pen Pal program?”  

Jungkook glanced up from the paper to see his cellmate hang his head from the bed above, watching Jungkook with questioning orbs.  Jungkook just scoffed at the upside down face and nodded.

“I just threw my letter away.  I heard they put all of us in that program because it’s a tax-write off for them.  It’s bullshit.” Namjoon told the younger.

Jungkook didn’t supply the other with an answer.  Instead he carefully folded the letter and placed it smoothly under his pillow. Then, he headed out to the showers while thoughts of what to write back to you filled his mind.  

--

‘Dear Y/n,

Well I would feel rather….accepting.  

I think you must be a very wise person to keep yourself far from the wretched claws of society…..’  

Jungkook tapped the capped pen against his chin, looking over his writing for any errors or mishaps before he signed off entirely.  

His letter was more in response to yours, after all you hadn’t given him that much to reply back to.  But still, some communication was better than none at all. Jungkook wanted to let you know that he understood your fears.  Hell, he even shared them with you. He hoped that you believed him when he told you that he also harbored disdain for your enemy.  And he also wanted to learn more about such a like-minded individual. Surely, you both had to have other similarities too, right?

He added the request for an image of you toward the end of his letter, just out of sheer curiosity for his long-lost twin. He didn’t care what you looked like but he wanted to scratch the itch of placing a face with the writing, knowing the urge to know would never go away until he saw your face.  

Other prisoners watched shocked as they witnessed Jungkook make his way to the mail room to drop off a letter to be sent off, knowing that he never made contact with the outside world.  

--

Jungkook found himself pacing his cell in an anxious manner, arms crossed and brows furrowed.  His stomach was tied into knots and his palms were clammy, hinting at one of the first times that he’s ever been nervous.  

He really was hoping for a response from you.  

He knew that it was very childish and sad to be so giddy for a letter, but he couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of another note.  It was refreshing to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t a felon. Someone who wasn’t there in person yet still reached out to connect with a corrupt scanderal such as himself.  

Which is why when the usual mail carrier came down the cells, cart in hand with envelopes, pictures, money and presents for inmates, Jungkook found himself holding his breath and wishing for the first time ever that the carrier would stop at his cell.  

He had never been on the receiving end of such transactions, he had no one on the outside to look out for him.  But the faceless recluse that had reached out to him in a cry for companionship had fogged his mind, leaving hims restless and jittery.  

Could it be that he found a genuine friend?  

One that didn’t use him for his reputation (unlike his former childhood friends) and accepted him as the fuck up he was.  

“Letter for a Jeon Jungkook?”  The middle-aged man paused in front of the barren cell, sticking a pristine white envelope through the metal bars.  It was almost comical the joy that bursted through his chest and the way he leaped to attrive the holy piece of material.  As if it glowed bright in the grim and grey limbo that he was stuck in.

Not being able to withhold the anticipation, Jungkook quickly took the letter to his bunk and carefully slit it open.  

‘Dear Jungkook,

Words cannot express how thankful I am that you answered my pathetic call for help…’

The writing was noticeably neater than the first letter.  Jungkook noted with a smile how much longer this one was prior to the last.  The inmate forced himself to pore over every detail at a slower pace, not wanting to accidently skim past any vital information yet also wishing to savor the ritual.  

You seemed very blindly kind to someone who was a wretched crook.  In fact, you claimed to be very grateful to hear from little old him.  The feeling was utterly foreign, the idea that someone was out there that genuinely wanted his friendship, someone who genuinely wanted to know his most bland personal preferences, who was practically pleading for his written company.  It made him feel wanted. After some thought he decided that he quite liked the new feeling. Even at his worst; locked up for a lifetime sentence, you went out of your way to kill his loneliness. He almost giggled when you told him of the disorder that the world had labelled you with, it was awfully funny to him that you both were called mentally unstable.  You two now had that in common as well. He felt a sudden stab in the gut when you mentioned your sister. He guessed if he had to identify the emotion it would be closest to sympathy or guilt. He supposed he felt...bad for your loss. Jungkook smiled widely.

Yes!  That’s it!  He felt bad for you!  

God if the psychologist who said he had no emotions could see him now...

Towards the end of your writing, you mentioned not being a ‘looker’.  As if the paper itself burned him, Jungkook dropped the object with great haste to dig through the envelope.  You had sent the picture! He almost forgot that he even asked for such thing.

And there it was, a small 4x6 printed image of a lovely face smiling shyly at the camera.  

Your face was small and round, skin serene and creamy with its (porcelain/olive/honey/amber/cinnamon) hued pores that was the canvas for your darling features.  Your nose was benevolent and perched regally as well as perfectly centered amidst the sculpture that was your appearance. The bridge of the blessed feature dipped discreetly and softly, complimenting the luminous orbs that were vividly painted with a the crispest shade of (color) that he’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing.  The enchanting irises were artistically framed by magnetizing dark eyelashes that were as long as they were seductive. Somehow he just knew that the colors supplied by whatever commercial printer didn’t do the color-pads of your eyes justice, imagining the shiver that will go down his spine when he could be bare to them in their full and unfiltered glory.  They held a humane gentleness but still….a simmering witt was also bubbling under the surface. Overhead the eyes were carefully groomed eyebrows that were neat and shapely, one was elegantly arched in a expression of somber joy.

Underneath your nose was a pair of nectarous ruby red (or flowery pink) lips that looked perfectly cushioning to any lucky man who would have the chance to collide theirs with yours. Your pristine and snow-white teeth were barely poking out, show casting your shyness even when plastering on a friendly smile.  It’s as if you were unable to let yourself be one-hundred percent bare even in something as basic as a grin. He wondered what kind of mellifluous sound would erupt from such a devine cavern. Your (color) hair was sadly put up, unable to flow freely in the still-frame image. Even though he had very little to study, he still knew that he would want to (straight hair; run his hands through your silken strands) (curly hair; bounce the fluid swirls of your playful mane).  An odd urge to inhale the scent of your shampoo was what Jungkook felt next.

Lost in his own self-induced trance, he didn’t realize that he had been staring for so long until he felt a shadow loom over his figure.  

It was his cellmate and suddenly the infatuated man became all too aware of his slightly ajar mouth and his widened eyes that were stuck on the flimsy printed picture that was tightly held in his grasp (as if terrified that someone would steal the chef d'oeuvre...in an abode of criminals, this fear was somewhat relevant).  Quickly, he masked his expression to that of usual indifference.

“You’ve been sitting there staring for like eleven minutes.  You good?”

He just nodded, not a fan of frivolous speech or furthering conversation with people he cared none for.  Still, the fucker persisted.

“You sure?  Your girl didn’t send you something naughty or something, right?”  This was said in a matter of humor, an attempt to relieve the dark aura that Jungkook seemed to exude in every social interaction.  However, the serious face that Jungkook had on gave the other the impression that he had hit the mark precisely. Joon’s jaw dropped and an eager grin formed at the corners of his lips.  

“Really?!  No way! Can I see?”  The over-sized goon attempted to stride forward, hands already out-reached to grasp at the first smut he would’ve seen in a long time.  Out of primal instinct to keep what was his away from the snubby hands of others, Jungkook pulled back. But the fool had enlarged limbs and this meant his lengthy arms were very capable of plucking the picture off of Jungkook’s safe grip.  

Greedy, Namjoon ran his eyes over the photo.  His grin slowly slid off as he realised that it was indeed nothing sexual.  Nonetheless, his eyes lingered far longer than Jungkook cared for….before promptly returning the image to it’s rightful owner, whose jaw was clenched and teeth now grinding at the recent events.   

“Who is she?”  

“My pen-pal.”  Jungkook promptly answered whilst hiding both the letter and photo under his pillow before placing his head on it, staring up at the bunk above him.  

“Damn, if I’d know that I could’ve gotten someone like that….”  A brief pause as Joon climbed up his bed as well. “I definitely wouldn’t have thrown mine away.”  

Jungkook felt the familiar agitation hit him, tongue pressing against his cheek and he wondered if it was too late to request a cell change.  

The lights went out and ponderings of what to write back filled Jungkook’s mind along with the bewitching photo that was just directly under his head…

--

Opting not to go to breakfast, Jungkook stayed within his cell.

He elaborately printed his response back to you.

‘Dear Y/n,

I thought you were a very smart person but obviously not…’  

The inmate was sure to make you aware of how breathtaking you were, but also very careful in tip-toeing around just how gorgeous you were to him.  He could have written a dozen novels about your exquisite appearance alone, but obviously he was unable to do such thing. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep and halt all communication with him.  In an effort to get closer to you, Jungkook added some sentiment in regards to your loss, adding an anecdote about his mother for dramatic effect.

Now, it was time to fulfill your wish to see him as he had seen you.  

He had no problem with such request.  Not that he ever paid attention to such pointless gossip, but he had always heard whispers of how handsome he was.  Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be a little Fabio on any scale, but he knew he wasn’t hard on the eyes of the opposite sex.  The trouble was, how exactly would he be able to send a photo?

After a year in prison, you get to learn that there are two ways you can survive in such element.  You either adapt or you crumble.

The fittest of the inmates learned real quick how to make prison into their home.  Some men have been here so long that they grew connections and were able to bring some things from the outside world in.  

Jungkook made plans to visit one the older inmates, knowing that he could trade a candybar for a favor of sneaking a photo out to you.  For now, he folded his letter and placed it in the envelope, awaiting his picture before being shipped off to the mailroom.

--

‘Dear Jungkook,

…..I guess you’re not the worst face I’ve seen….’

Jungkook smiled as he fondly traced the words that you have written onto the paper only days prior.  He imagined your endearing face scrunching up into a thoughtful expression as you scribbled your response back to him.  You were funny and he couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt when you admitted to his attractiveness. In the past, he never gave a fuck if people thought he was the next Ryan Gosling or the ugliest mug they’ve ever seen.  But he felt a weird sense of relief behold him when you said that you indeed thought he was good-looking. He didn’t want to imagine what he might’ve felt if you called him ugly or stopped talking to him after seeing his face.  

But that was not the best aspect to be seen within your writing.  

The best thing that caused his chest to erupt in a warm and fuzzy feeling was when you agreed that you also felt a connection between you two.  That you found him to be ‘marvelous company’ and you enjoyed his letters. This just confirmed his suspicion that you were somehow tied together.  That you two were meant to stumble upon each other in the most unconventional way. Jungkook was sure of it, that you two have defied the odds that cruel reality set against you ‘mentally unstable’ pair and found peace along with understanding within each other.  

Jungkook didn’t know how to describe you.  Surely a ‘pal’ wasn’t it.

You were like another half of him.  

Like you both have fallen from the same star and were unfortunate to fall on this damned earth. Surrounded by the bizzare ‘humans’ and called odd for not being one of their species.  Jungkook decided then and there that you two were mates.

And yes, Jungkook meant it in the primal and borderline barbaric ways that animals did. He would prove his worthiness as a male specimen, he would shelter and feed you, he would breed and produce offspring with you.  Regular people would look at this plan and consider it cave-man like, but he thought it was considerably more romantic this way. Animals mated for life and were not afraid to get murderous when someone threatened this sacred bond.  What was so wrong with such animalistic viewpoint? Humans were the worst type of creature and he was not at all interested in their fake way of obtaining a lover. And he got the sense that you weren’t either. Dates, chocolates, flowers?  How is it that those things were put on a pedestal as a grand show of affection but having a genuine connection with a person was not? Jungkook couldn’t strain his brain to understand such mindset.

This all left the forefront of his mind when he read to the last parts of your letter.  Eyebrows going up in surprise at the ‘P.S’ adage that was never before seen from you. His smile slipped off his face when he saw what you wished.

You wanted to know how he landed himself in prison.  

Now….that was a touchy subject.  

He really didn’t want to scare you away.  

You were too understanding, too alike to him for Jungkook to ever want you to run away.  He knew that no matter how much he could try, his crimes were inexcusable. Even the holiest of saints would hinder their forgiveness.  

Jungkook came to the conclusion that it would be best to tell a white lie until he had more of a connection with you to reveal the truth.  

Sure, he was utterly enthralled by you but he didn’t know how deep your affections lied with him.  He just needed more time to spin a perspective to fill your ear with, he needed to get his claws deep within you, he needed you to be as dependent on him as he was with you.  Jungkook decided to create a fake story to keep you close to him.

Jungkook smirked and grabbed a pen and paper for the next letter.  

--

‘Dear Jk,

My day to day is also lifeless, I’m afraid…’

It was lunch time and Jungkook sat alone in his usual corner of the table, mystery meat forgotten in favor of absorbing the new letter that you had produced for his addiction.  

The first paragraph had the psycho inmate smiling as he pictured you in your tiny apartment, dressed in comfy clothes doing the most mundane things.  He liked to spend his free time just imagining what your comfy ‘nest’ was like, picturing your tiny frame skipping around it. You sitting on a sofa, bundled up in blankets and one of his oversized sweaters, book in hand and steaming hot cup of hot chocolate in the other.  You in the kitchen, humming some tune in your dulcet voice as you attempted to make him a home cooked meal, frowning when you realized that you had not followed a certain step correctly like the cook book said. You laughing at the movie that played on the television screen while you both reach into the popcorn bowl at the same time.  What Jungkook wouldn’t give to live in the little nest with you.  To occupy the same cocoon that you created.

He often found himself fantasizing about being the brave one for you.  

The one who would go to the outside world on your behalf.  He would get you groceries, get a 9 to 5 to pay the bills, go out at 3 am to get you lady products or any random craving.  Wouldn’t that be nice? It would be similar to a caregiver role. Him taking care of you so you just had to stay your pretty self at home, keeping it warm and pillowy for his return.  You would be so thankful for his willingness to go out into your worst fear for the sake of your happiness.

But then, as the letter continued, Jungkook’s mood soured.  

Your mother had violated your space and made you feel awful.  

Jungkook felt rage in that moment.  

He never held so much hatred for someone he had never met before.  

He instantly knew that he didn’t like your mother.  

A piercing sensation thundered upon his chest.  The cursed image of your sweet face covered in tears fogged his mind’s eye.  

God helped anyone who fucked with you.  

Jungkook folded the letter and put it in his pocket, shoveling some tasteless cafeteria food to distract him the familiar hellish itch that screamed at him from underneath his skin.  

Later that day, Jungkook responded with a letter of his own.  

He attached the drawings that he had mentioned to you, somewhat bashful that for the past weeks all he had been able to draw was you.  But he brushed the feelings off and focused on another task; getting you to start calling.

He would often see inmates taking up phone booths, talking and laughing with loved ones from the outside for a couple minutes at a time.  Jungkook wanted that for you two. He wanted to hear the blessed voice that he knew you had, and he wanted you to become familiar with his as well.  After all, you would be hearing it a lot in your lifetime.

--

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I’m sure you must’ve gotten busy, why else haven’t you written in a week?’

Jungkook was slowly becoming irritated at the lack of mail he has been receiving.  It had been five days since you had responded and Jungkook felt anxious at your sudden silence.  You were a sweetheart and would never abandon him. You weren’t like those other wretched people, right?  No! You couldn’t be.

Jungkook shook his head and mentally cursed himself for even thinking that for a moment.  

You must have gotten busy.  

Maybe your mom didn’t give up on pestering you.  

--

‘My Dearest Y/n,

Where have you gone?  You haven’t forgotten about me have you?’

Jungkook couldn’t bear the silence.  He was slowly growing restless. He needed the stimulation that was your communication.  Without it, he had no new material to fill his mind. No new scenarios to daydream about.  NOTHING to get him through the day in the colorless cell that began to taunt him. He attempted to distract himself with the picture of you as well as your 

former letters that now had tear stains because of his new habit of crying over them, knowing they might be the last he ever gets from you.

--

‘Y/n,

This isn’t funny anymore….’

Jungkook was not only uneased, but now he was worried.  Thoughts of what could’ve possibly caused your silence now haunted his mind at night when he attempted to get what little rest he could.  Time was only worsening his growing paranoia each day that he didn’t receive a letter.

He knew you lived alone and had very little outside communication with anyone.  The main ones being him and your mother. Jungkook could only assume that your mother and you would be taking a break due to your mother’s mental breakdown.  And that left him. Stuck in a penitentiary with no way to reach you. He nearly punched the brick wall of his cell when he came to the realization that something could’ve happened to you and no one would’ve known.  If you didn’t answer this letter, he didn’t know what he’d do.

--

‘Dear Jungkook (or should I say Easter Bunny?)

I know what you did.

I know that you lied to me.

I know you’re a murderer.  

Friends don’t lie to each other, Jungkook.

I think it’s best if we find different Pen Pals.

All my best wishes, Y/n.

The letter fell to the ground as Jungkook stared in shock at the absurdly short and cold answer he got from you.  

He underestimated you.

You found out.  

Jungkook felt his temper flare as well as his breathing.  

He’d be damned to let you go.  

You were soulmates….couldn’t you see that?  

Jungkook never thought he’d have to rely on this but he had no choice.  

In the cell block, there were some people whom have been there for 30 years, and other for 30 days.  Prison 101 is to not fuck with the guys who had time under their belts. It was best to respect them and acknowledge that they have connections.  But respect was the last thing on his mind as he stormed into the tiny cell room of an old geezer whose been committing crimes since before Jungkook was even born.  

The older man was used to people coming to his cell, usually asking about how to get hands on a cell phone or how to get the precious kitchen duty to sneak food.  Over time, the man humored many childish inmates with some insider tricks. Almost everyone had talked to him at some point, but Jungkook was one of the very few whom did not approach him seeking an easier ride.  Thus, he was shocked to see the young and deadly figure swoop into the area, eyes dead and jaw clenched.

“You’re going to do something for me.”  Jungkook said this monotonously while maintaining eye contact.  The older man couldn’t ignore the shivers that went down his spine but he still acted calm, knowing you couldn’t show weaknesses to the younger and violent inmates.  

“Is that so?”  The older quirked a brow at Jungkook though the rusty mirror and went back to shaving his face.  The younger was behind him and just tilted his head and stepped forward, still staring at the man through the reflection of the glass.  

“You are going to sneak me out of this joint.”  

This caused the older to laugh, not believing his ears at such a ludicrous request.  

Jungkook came up behind the older, mouth close to his ear and eyes lifeless and inky as they held the older’s through the mirror.  

“Listen here you senile fuck, I know that you know who I am and what I did.  It’s your best interest to listen to what I tell you. Would you like to hear a secret?”  The petrified and frozen man nodded, not having the balls to disobey or look away. “I never told the jury that I didn’t murder those people on my own….I had a partner.  A partner who is still out there and would surely take care of your pretty little daughter I hear you talking on the phone to.”

Jungkook smiled as the man grimly agreed to do whatever he wished.  

Now, he just had to inform you of his upcoming arrival.

--

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I see you found out about the nickname the hideous press gave me.

Well….this type of revelation is best talked over in person.  

I’ll see you soon.’

Author’s note; so....both JK and Y/n have mental problems, just to clarify.  Also, this wasn’t part two bc I think of this as just the other half of part one.  There will still be a part two and three.  Please let me know what you thought bc a full inbox makes for a happy writer.  It’s challenging to write for a Y/n character bc the point is for you guys to identify with her in the story and I wanted you guys to feel like you truly are her so when I did the part where Jk becomes very obsessed with the pic, I wanted to add details but obvi not everyone has the same characteristics so I added diff options...pls let me know what you thought of this.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Valentine’s Couple

Summary: Being born on Valentine’s Day had always been a bother until you meet Jung Jaehyun who was also born on the same day.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre: ridiculously cliché fluff

A/N: As you all know, I write a “birthday” fiction for all my biases and thankfully, Jaehyun being born on the 14th of February meant I could cover Valentine’s Day all in the same fiction! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2156

You always thought you would hate Valentine’s Day.

After all, being born on the day of love wasn’t the easiest. Okay, so you didn’t have it as bad as those born on Christmas Day, but whenever you were propositioned with telling someone your birthday, it always came with the endless comments.

“Oh, Valentine’s Day?!” You nod, trying to prevent your eyes from rolling. “You must be simply full of love then.”

“Not really.”

“Have you ever had anyone confess on your birthday to be your Valentine? You’d get double the presents! Chocolates and a gift, I think it would be amazing to be recognised twice on such a magical day.”

You scoffed. Love just wasn’t your thing.

Until you met Jaehyun.

It happened with a stroke of luck in your first year of university. You had to sit through the typical game of sharing a random fact about yourself with the fellow freshmen students in your department during orientation week. And when the handsome brunette across the circle you sat in smiled in preparation, you wondered what he would say. That he played some kind of sport? That he was good at making music? Being in the performing arts department and all, that would be a given. You watched as his smile deepened, much like the dimple on his cheek. You couldn’t exactly help but feel entranced.

“Hi, I’m Jung Jaehyun, and my random fact is I was born on Valentine’s Day.”

Giggles and appreciative hums filled the room as you blinked slowly at his admission. He didn’t seem bothered by sharing a day with every couple in the world, and when one of the other students asked him if he liked Valentine’s Day, he nodded, smiling to himself. Why? You guessed because he was handsome, he must have a good experience each year with confessions.

Unlike you, who got the typical cards during high school saying they were only asking to be your Valentine because it was your birthday and it was the only way you’d get some love. Kids were cruel, and you pouted thinking how different Jaehyun’s experience must have been. You were so invested in your thoughts of the injustice over being a Valentine’s baby that when it came to your turn, you weren’t prepared at all. You grew flustered and uttered whatever came to your mind first.

“Uh, I’m Y/N and I’m also born on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really?” the girl asked beside you and you nodded. She clapped with glee. “We have our first campus couple!”

You gaped at her exclamation, many others agreeing with her. You glanced hesitantly over at Jaehyun who grinned.

You were hopeful this wouldn’t amount to anything.

“Are you really born on Valentine’s Day?”

Turning around, you saw Jaehyun approaching you on your first proper day of classes. He smiled at you warmly as he fell into step at your side. ���Y/N right?”

“Uh yeah,” you confirmed, feeling the flush of colour on your cheeks deepen at Jaehyun remembering your name. You then nodded softly, confirming his question. “I am.”

“That’s really cool, I’ve never met anyone else who shares a birthday with me. It was always weird being the Valentine’s boy, not that I minded it all that much.”

“Really? I hate it,” you admitted and Jaehyun looked at you, perplexed. You sighed gently. “I don’t like all the attention I get whenever I mention it.”

“Yet you told the whole freshman class,” he reminded and you nodded, groaning. Jaehyun chuckled. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure they don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“You don’t have to, I very much doubt anyone would even remember,” you mentioned before jumping in fright when an arm slung over your shoulders suddenly. You blinked rapidly when you realised it wasn’t Jaehyun’s.

“Well if it isn’t the Valentine’s Couple! Walking your love lady to class, are we?”

Jaehyun chuckled. “Is there a problem with that?”

“I smell love brewing!” the student exclaimed before winking down at you and you grimaced. He leapt off you both to head off energetically towards the department, basically announcing your arrival.

You looked at Jaehyun’s amused expression meekly, preparing yourself for a difficult semester ahead.

You had convinced yourself once the class routine was established; your fellow peers would drop their pretentious behaviour about you and Jaehyun being the Valentine’s Couple. After all, you figured you would all be too busy with projects and assessments to continue with the juvenile antics. You had cursed yourself for speaking up that day but reminded yourself often that you couldn’t remain the focus for long. People had better things to worry about.

It would have been easier if you hadn’t found an instant friend in Jaehyun though, admittedly. It seemed that since you had been pushed together that you just naturally continued to sit with him in class and often shared your breaks together. It was effortless, and you actually enjoyed his company. Whilst you hated the nickname and the attention you got at his side, he was far too nice to avoid in hopes for it to all die down. So whilst you wished to shun the situation, you couldn’t bring yourself to step away either. Jaehyun was engaging and comfortable to be around.

Perhaps that was why you started to feel something growing inside you.

Jaehyun never refuted the nickname or seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and nudged you gently, appeasing some of the proclamations with vague but positive responses. At first, you thought he was just being pleasing to everyone. You noticed he made friends easily enough because he was attentive towards all your other classmates. Knowing his character made you brush off the flutters you felt when he didn’t deny being coupled with you. He didn’t openly encourage the behaviour and if he was truly bothered, he would have refuted it by the middle of the first semester.

But he didn’t and as it continued, he sometimes got a little into it himself, slinging an arm around you and blinking up at whoever was standing beside your row in the lecture hall, waiting for them to say something more.

You were always too stunned to do anything but focus on breathing.

It made sense that you started to daydream of him being your actual boyfriend. You fantasised of all the cliché and cheesy things you had treated indignantly all these years. You craved for Jaehyun to dote on you, gracing you with endless dimpled smiles and kisses in between classes. Holding your hand and taking you out on dates when you had time to do so. Snuggling up since the weather was cold and spending Christmas together.

It was actually during your Christmas break when you allowed yourself to accept your feelings properly. Although you had received messages all day from fellow classmates in the group chat wishing you a good Christmas, you were surprised when you received a private message from Jaehyun.

[Jaehyun] [3:18 PM] Merry Christmas Y/N, I hope you’ve had a good day and break so far. Looking forward to seeing you back at school soon x

You had stared at that x for the rest of your Christmas break, hoping it meant something.

Christmas break was over and you were back in school, nervously waiting to catch up with Jaehyun. He was promptly on time, greeting you with a grin and a wave. You weakly returned them, trying to settle yourself down. It wasn’t as if you had gone months without seeing him or anything. But he looked good as he approached you and you couldn’t help the small sigh that left you contentedly when he stopped at your side.

“Miss me?” he teased and you nodded, blushing a little at your immediate response. Jaehyun seemed pleased by your reaction and nodded. “Me too. It was weird not being in a couple situation over my break. I was surprisingly lonely.”

“Oh, were you?” You didn’t want him to feel lonely, but knowing he had missed you as much as you had him, well, it was making you feel rather toasty in all your winter layers.

“It’s good to be back on campus, right?”

You agreed with another quick nod, trying your best to bite back your elation.

Things fell back into routine quickly over January but when February hit, you felt excited for the first time. Normally, you hated this month and would shut off from interacting with people outside of your friends, and even then you would be uncharacteristically moody. But this year, you couldn’t help but smile often or feel captivated in the warm feeling in the air even though the weather was still recovering from the harshness of winter as the season slowly headed towards spring. It was a strange feeling and you were certain it was because of Jaehyun.

The couple name you both had carried around like name badges since the start seemed more apparent now as each day ticked closer to the fourteenth. And you found yourself feeling bolder as if enchanted by the month of love yourself. A ghost of a smile would play on your lips whenever someone mentioned it and you even found yourself reaching out touch Jaehyun gently much like he always did you. It pleased you when you saw him blush instead, and you felt exhilarated because he never pulled away from your actions.

Because of this, you felt yourself anticipating your birthday in a good way. Not so much for yourself, but for the plan you had been working on. You spent your time in between projects and long training sessions putting in all the last minute touches to your card, and on Valentine’s Day itself, you got up bright and early to shower so you could spend more time on your make-up. You had your outfit ready from choosing it out last night and changed into it, heading to university feeling encased in a sense of hope. Perhaps it was because everywhere you looked, everyone was giving gifts or gazing lovingly at each other, but you felt compelled to tell Jaehyun how you felt today. Cliché or not, you had decided since you had been known as the Valentine’s Couple this whole time, confessing on Valentine’s day itself seemed appropriate.

You just hoped you didn’t fumble too much.

You didn’t see Jaehyun until later into the morning as your classes didn’t match up until then, and you were thankful you both had a habit of arriving at this lecture earlier than other students. He smiled at your arrival and turned in his chair to face you as you sat down. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you repeated, unable to hide your grin. You reached into your bag and pulled out your card, right as Jaehyun slid something toward you. You laughed at the envelope and he slyly grinned as he took yours.

“I guess it makes sense for us to be each other’s Valentine today too,” he mentioned as he opened up your card, blinking when he realised it was handmade. You felt anxious, hoping it wasn’t too much. He seemed affected by your effort and then smiled. “You made this?”

“Isn’t that the norm for your Valentine?” you teased, and Jaehyun reached for his card he had handed you. You whined and tried to reach for it. “Hey, that’s mine!”

“It’s nowhere good as yours,” he admitted, attempting to hide it from you.

“I don’t care; I want to receive it all the same!”

“Really?” he asked, and you ceased your avid movement towards his arm. He smiled slowly. “You’ll really accept it?”

You could feel the added weight to his sentence and nodded in response. Dropping his hand back into your reach, he offered you his card again. Unlike the typical wording that you had tried to subtlety drop hints into about how you felt, Jaehyun was obvious.

I like you, Y/N.

I know it’s cliché to write this out in a card, or even because it’s Valentine’s Day but I’m really glad we got dubbed the Valentine’s Couple. I want to be a couple. Let’s date.

Happy birthday and I hope you’ll be my Valentine next year too.

Jaehyun x.

You glanced up at him and he was waiting nervously for your response. You didn’t say anything and he seemed frustrated. “Say something, anything. Your silence is driving me crazy.”

“I like you too.”

“So that means you’ll accept being my Valentine this year?” he asked, leaning in closer. You nodded and he swiftly kissed you, rendering you breathless despite how quickly his lips left yours. You took a deep breath before you kissed him back, uncaring when the doors suddenly opened and students started to come in.

“Woah look at this! The Valentine’s Couple are officiating things!”

You couldn’t help but grin at Jaehyun at their announcement, deciding that being born on Valentine’s Day wasn’t that bad after all.

_________________

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[liittlemac-a]

“...Hey, dad?

There’s somethin’ I’ve been needin’ t’ tell ya.”

The very initiation of this conversation was the hardest. It had been on their mind ever since they woke up (which, wasn’t very long, they’d only got back in from their morning run). Whilst this was something they wanted to keep quiet for... a little while, Doc should be the first person to know. Especially now they were home- real home, New York- just for the weekend...

“I thought ya had somethin’ on your mind for a while, kid,” Doc laughed, resting his bike up against the wall of the gym. “Go ahead an’ shoot. What’s been keepin’ ya up?”

Mac kneaded their hands together, before deciding to hide them in their pockets altogether. Even now the conversation had begun, it was hard to find the words to utter. “So...” They began. “You know... I’m wit’ someone. I mean, I’m wit’ Sheik.”

“Of course. I can’t forget. That’s all y’ seem t’ talk about.”

“Ha, ha.” Serious expression breaks for a moment, rolling their eyes. Doc gave a laugh as Mac leaned against the edge of the Training Ring, pulling a bit of a face. A beat of silence passed, before they broke the quiet. “We... W- Well, I mean, so... We- We’re engaged. But- But but but!” A hand rose, as if to prevent interruption.

“Basically- he... gave me this engagement ring, on m’ birthday, but... Me bein’ me, I- I had no idea. It was s’pposed t’ be a joke. T- T’ cut t’ th’ chase! It’s- It’s a Zora Ring, or... somethin’. It’s not th’ real one, but it’s, y’know, important.” A break to inhale, then exhale, before they continued. “But... Even though I was kinda oblivious, we’re- we’re gonna do it.

We’re... Gettin’ married, dad.”

Doc took a moment to respond. It felt like a lifetime as every second passed. Eye-contact broke as the elder glanced down, seeming to be in thought.

“Mac?”

“...Yeah?”

“You get yourself into some situations, don’t you?”

The light-hearted comment eased the tenseness. The champion laughed, seeming relieved. They weren’t sure what kind of response he’d give.... “Son,” Doc’s voice wavered a little, as his eyes rose from the ground up to Mac again, “I’m so, so very proud of you.”

Mac smiled, softly, head bowed modestly. They shifted their weight from against the edge of the ring, in order to make quick pace towards Doc. They practically threw their arms around him, tears of relief rising to their eyes, but they quickly blinked them away. Doc’s arms wrapped back around their waist, and they just... Clung on for a while. Shaky breath escaped them, and Doc patted their back.

“Don’t start cryin’, you’ll get me goin’ too,” Doc spoke up, and Mac laughed again, wiping their eyes into the back of their hand. “Y’ know whatever it is that happens... I’ll be there for you. If you want t’ do this--”

“I do, I do.” They pulled back. Even in their shakiness, their voice was determined as ever. Doc had only heard that determination once before. “I- I want to. I do.”

Doc’s hand rose to wipe under their eyes, thumbing away the rest of their tears. Even if they were tears of happiness, relief, it was still a hard sight to bare. He rested his hands on their shoulders. “It’s- It’s kinda- kinda hard for me, knowin’ my boy’s all grown up now. But- But I’m so proud of ya, Mac, baby. I ain’t ever known someone so strong...” Mac smiled at the comment. “Yet so...”

Their expression faltered a little as Doc searched for the word, as he removed one hand to come to his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, that’s it. Dense. How long did it take ya t’ get th’ hint, boy?!”

“Oh, very funny!” Mac smirked now, playfully punching his arm, rolling their eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “It didn’t take that long, anyway!” ...Though, Sheik certainly did most of the work getting them together... Now it was painfully obvious all those hints were practically punching them in the face back then.

“Let me guess. I s’ppose y’ didn’t know he was secretly Princess Zelda too.”

Mac’s eyes blew wide. “...You- You knew?” And Doc seemed to share that same shock.

“...Baby, are you really tryna tell me y’ didn’t know?”

“H- He told me, a- a few days ago! I- I didn’t always know! W- What?! Is this- Is this common knowledge?!” They were red up to their ears, raising their voice to a squeaky pitch in embarrassment. Doc had to laugh. “H- Hey, this is not funny! S- Stop laughin’! Stop!”

“How didja not know?! It’s clearer than daylight!” Doc decided it was best not to tell them that he also knew what the ring symbolised. After noticing the odd stares they were recieving from the ring, he decided to ask about. That would only add to the shame. “Mac, baby... You’re oblivious as anythin’. Bless ya.”

Mac huffed, exasperated, feigned frustration on their features. They couldn’t really be angry... They were just acting on embarrassment. “Can’t believe y’ didn’t even tell me.”

“I mean, Mac, I obviously woulda thought y’ knew!”

“W- Well, I- I didn’t! Oh, stop laughin’ at me!” Mac couldn’t help but laugh too, but that was besides the point. “We- We’re wastin’ time, we need t’ get back t’ trainin’, anyway!”

“Oh, sod trainin’ f’ today. I think this call’s for celebration, don’tcha think, kid? An’ I need t’ get y’all t’gether t’ plan everythin’, an’... ” Doc trailed off. Their expression seemed uncertain, even a little uncomfortable. Worry piqued in his chest, perhaps he’d been getting ahead of himself. “...Have I stepped outta line, son?”

“Oh, uh, no!” Mac shook their head frantically, but that did nothing to put Doc at ease. “Nothin’, it’s just... I think... I- I want t’ keep this, jus’ between us. F’ now. I... I’m not sure what, or, like, how, we’re gonna do this. An’... I don’t really want people t’ know right now.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s your private affairs after all, kid.” Doc smiled softly. Not like he could change their mind. And it wasn’t his wedding, either.

“...But I’ll take up the day off for celebration bit?”

“Of course y’ would. C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 17

The sofa’s big enough for four people if they tried hard enough, but right now the two of them sit so closely that their knees knock. If it were anyone else it would be weird, but it isn’t anyone else.

Curly isn’t sure when his flat stopped feeling like home, but it’s all coming back to him now. The heating is still knackered but he feels all warm and shit, and the place is a right mess but he couldn’t care less. Neither of them could.

“Mate you look fucking mental,” Brandon gawps as he flops back onto the couch. He’s got this dopey smile on his face as their highs creep up on them. “As if you’ve finally got tattoos... Mate.”

Curls picked him up from the airport first thing this morning and they’ve spent the day driving about just so Brandon can take it all in. Curly stopped noticing how America differed from England a little while ago, but it’s like the second his best mate got here, it all became apparent again as they wasted time reminiscing and slagging off American culture.

They’re back at the flat now though, and Jules and Oscar are there, too. Jules treated them to a free spliff each and, now Brandon’s a little bit looser, he’s taken to gushing about how much Curly’s changed.

“Mate.” It’s all he can seem to muster.

“So what brings you here, kid?” Jules carelessly flicks his ash onto the coffee table, elbows leant on his knees. “Surely you don’t like this asshole enough to travel overseas to see him,” he jokes, getting a laugh from Brandon.

“Neh,” he shakes his head and Curly is taken aback by his bluntness for a second, until he adds, “as much as I love ‘im—” he nudges Curly lightly, huffs. “—I’ve only gone and got my heart broken.”

Brandon laughs again and it slowly turns into an awkward cough. He watches the ceiling as he smiles lightly, his face falling back to its soft default.

“Brandon’s running away from his feelings,” Curly chimes in. “He’s only come to see me because it’s as far away as he can get without having to pay for bed and breakfast.”

“Bog off,” Brandon scoffs, and he’s smiling for real again now.

It’s hard for Curly to feel for him, to be honest. Brandon didn’t meet Elle until after Curls moved away and yeah, he’d heard the odd thing about her, about the shit they got up to together, but he was never there. Was never invested in them. It’s weird to see Brandon so torn up about someone that Curly’s never seen him with. God knows what it would be like if Brandon wasn’t the type to hide his feelings.

“Ah man, that’s rough,” Jules notes and he’s reaching for something. “Here,” he says before holding his own blunt between his lips as he digs through his metal tin.

“Brandon doesn’t do that shit, Jules,” Curly warns before the man even has the chance to offer.

“No? What about coke?”

“No coke.”

“What does he do, then?”

“He speaks for himself,” Brandon chimes in with a grin as he sits up again. “Mate you know what I miss? Ket. Fucking ket, mate.”

“We took ket once and it was shit,” Curly argues. That, and he’d already shot up in the bathroom today when he and Brandon got back, and he knows better than to mix anything else too heavy. God knows why he’s pissing about with heroin. Just feels sorry for himself, he supposes. Not that he’s about to tell Brandon about it.

“Yeah, we took it once, but me and Elle used to always do it. It’s been ages though.”

His eyes drift to Jules who says, “give me a sec, I’ll see what I can do,” and he digs his phone out of his pocket.

Curly hasn’t even heard anyone in Brockton talk about ketamine, but forty-five minutes later, that Blake bloke that he got arrested with is there and everyone’s getting fucked up except for Curly because this isn’t how he’d pictured reuniting with his best mate.

In England, they’d go to shit house parties and smoke a spliff or two on a normal night. They’d tried tabs a few times back then but it’s not really what they were about. They tried shit for the sake of trying it, but this feels different. Feels rubbish.

Curls remembers karaoke as Jessica Adam’s 17th Birthday party. He remembers getting absolutely mortal, singing Dancing in the Moonlight with Brandon on top of one of the speakers and getting kicked out of the venue for knackering the sound system. The whole party left with them to an empty field where they proceeded to get so shitfaced, that about a dozen of them all woke up in that same field the next morning.

Tonight though, Brandon, Jules, Oscar and Blake are fucked up on ket and Curly listens from the kitchen to Brandon telling his new mates about how he “never could get Curly laid in England. Have you lot had much luck?”

They all say no. Oscar says, “maybe he is gay,” and they laugh and Curly knows they’re not really trying to be dickheads; knows he’s meant to hear every word of it; is meant to be laughing along. And he knows Brandon’s just trying to make his mates laugh n’all, find some common ground... But he’s still... Pissed off – about something.

He boils water in a pan and holds the end of this afternoon’s syringe in it until he reckons it’s clean again. The second hit basically knocks him out and he lets his mates get on with it whilst he returns to his room to sleep.

Brandon crawls into bed with him a lot later. It must have been a while because Curly can usually sleep like the dead for a good few hours after a hit. Brandon’s sure to tell him that his new friends are ace before he passes out too.

***

“I’m not gay,” Curly says the next day after they’ve climbed out of the taxi outside the bar.

They visited Beverley’s for dinner and had a few drinks to get them started. Curly did a line in the toilets but only a small one. He only had half a hit this morning but it near knocked him out. He’s picked himself back up now.

Brandon frowns as he slips his hands into his pockets. “Y’what?”

“Last night I heard you say summet.” He swallows uncomfortably. Jules had said his accent thickens with Brandon around, and even Curly can hear it now. Makes everything he says sound clumsy and awkward. “I just didn’t want it to be a secret. You’re my best mate.”

“Where’s this coming from,” Brandon asks as he lights a fag and holds the pack in Curly’s direction. He takes one and waits for the lighter.

“I’ve been seeing someone. Or, well I was. I’m not now.” He clears his throat.

Brandon follows Curly to the alleyway that runs along the side of the building. The same one he’d listened to Jordan and Jules fight in whilst he yoshed between his knees. They lean against a wall as Brandon says, “a’right, so you got with a girl, then? Is that what you’re on about? It’s not really a--”

“No, I—. He works here.” Brandon’s eyebrows raise but he doesn’t say anything, lets Curly babble on. Curls huffs, looks around to make sure nobody is in earshot, mostly in case Jordan himself is lingering somewhere close by, as daft as the thought is. “Just thought I’d say summet in case we bump into him cause I— It’s still a bit…”

“Sensitive?” Something in Brandon’s voice is mocking, but it works as a weird kind of comfort and Curly doesn’t know why.

“Not sensitive,” he lies. “Just. A bit fresh.”

“You’re an absolute melt, mate. You’ve gone soft.”

“That’s it?” Curly scoffs; takes a long drag as he shakes his head fondly.

“I don’t care who you do or don’t shag as long as it in’t me,” Brandon states, but he’s smiling and it’s just his shit way of showing acceptance.

“Alright, mint,” Curls breathes. “Now you can stop sulking because I’m bloody heartbroken n’all.”

They both laugh at that, with an agreement that tonight won’t be for moping. They finish their fags and Curls leads him inside. Jeff and Dean meet them at the entrance, but the bloke on the door recognises Curly anyway and lets both of them in without even thinking to ask for IDs.

Jeff and Dean like to joke that Curly’s looking so rough these days that he looks like he could be aged anywhere between eighteen and eighty, and they must be right because he never gets ID’d here.

Curls gets the first round in on the lower floor because he knows who works this bar (or who doesn’t) while the rest of them bond over how much of a bell-end they recon Curly is. Curls can take the banter, though; growing up with Brandon has taught him that.

“Hey, Curls, how much ink do you have now,” Dean calls from behind as he picks up the first two pints and turns to pass them over.

“Uh… Eleven, I think,” he says as he takes the last two cups and re-joins the trio. “Or ten, at least.”

“Fuck off, you don’t have more than me,” Brandon scoffs in disbelief, as Dean gives him a ‘told you so’ kind of look. Brandon had tried for ages to get Curly to have a tattoo.

Curls just shrugs, feeling smug now. Dean’s doing his next one on Thursday.

“I can hook you up before you head home,” Dean offers, and Brandon lights up.

They fall into a conversation about ideas and cool ink they’ve seen already and, after a short while, Curls can’t avoid it anymore and he agrees to follow when Jeff suggests they head upstairs.

“Is Jord working tonight?” Jeff’s walking beside him whilst Dean and Brandon continue to speak designs a few steps ahead. Nobody knows still. Why would they? They don’t need to.

“Not sure, mate,” he shrugs passively. “Usually does on a Friday, though.”

Jeff nudges Dean’s shoulder ahead, says, “head for the roof, see if J’s working.”

Curls insists on picking a table when they get up there, whilst Jeff and Dean head for the bar. He and Brandon sit opposite each other as far away from the bar as he can possibly get and with his back to it.

He rushes to say, “nobody else knows about him, a’right?”

Brandon seems to know who he’s referring to, and he’s scanning the room like he knows the bloke must be around here somewhere. Curly’s panic is likely a dead giveaway. His eyes linger around the bar.

“He’s blond,” Curly says, but he doesn’t follow Brandon’s gaze. “S’he there?”

“I’m not sure if it’s him. Think he just gave your mate the bird.”

“That’s him.”

It takes ages for them to return with the drinks and Curly just wants to know who said what and if anyone mentioned him at all, but when Jeff sets the drinks down, he just says, “cheers,” and otherwise keeps his mouth shut.

Dean sets Brandon’s pint down as he asks, “so what tattoo are we thinking, bud?”

“I think you should just get Curly’s name on your ass,” Jeff offers.

“He wishes,” both Brits say at the same time.

***

That night, he does get a tattoo on his arse, but it’s not Curly’s name. They both get a poorly drawn deckchair, each in honour of their shenanigans in that mosh pit in Leeds. Curls gets one on his thigh though, because he’s not an absolute bint like Brandon is.

“Jordan said some shit happened with you guys,” Dean mutters later that night, back at his and Jeff’s apartment whilst his roommate shows Brandon what a Smore is in the kitchen. “He didn’t say what, just that things are weird.”

“They’re not weird.” They’re not weird. They’re not anything. “He’s alright, just does my head in,” is what he settles for, no idea how much he’s meant to be playing this down.

Deans scoffs like he wants to agree, but he doesn’t. “He can be an asshole, but he’s a good guy. Don’t let the shit he says get to you. It means he likes you - most of the time.” Curls doesn’t know how to respond. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Cheers, mate.”

***

“This is perfect,” he says the next evening. The sun’s turning the grass golden as the moon chases it off the edge of the world.

He’s got his parka on, but he doesn't need it - it feels like the later it gets, the warmer the air becomes. The wind is picking up a bit as well though, and they hunch in as Curly rolls spliff number two over Brandon’s hands; cupped to save anything that falls.

Pixies are playing from Brandon’s phone. The quality is shit -sounds like he’s recorded it off his telly- but it’s hard to get them out of your head when the memory of their festival set is burning into your thigh - or, in Brandon’s case, your actual arse cheek.

“What is? Rolling a zoot in a muddy field?” The way he says it would suggest he disagrees, but Curly thinks maybe he’s just playing big-man.

Curls doesn’t bother with that. “Yeah. Exactly that,” he says, pausing to lick the strip along the paper before sealing it up. “Feels like home, doesn’t it?”

“D’you miss it?”

He nods, holding the joint between his lips as he digs for his lighter. “So much,” he mumbles around it before taking it between his fingers again to light the end.

“Why not come back? Your mums got a fella. I’m on my own now Elle’s fucked off. It’d be mint, us in our own gaff. Imagine?”

They both watch as he twirls the spliff, watching the paper turn black around the tip; Brandon distracted and Curly just trying to find somewhere to look as he thinks.

Yeah, he can imagine.

“Can’t. I—“ He what? He’s got a life here? He’s got a career and great friends and a nice relationship here? His mum needs him and he’s doing really well and has too much to lose? Too many responsibilities? “I quite like it ‘ere,” he lies, then pops the joint between his lips again.

Brandon must expect the reply anyway, because he doesn’t falter before he asks, “you’ll visit though, yeah?”

“Course I will,” he says after a pull, then hands it over. “I’ll go mad if I don’t go home soon.”

As he singes the grass with his lighter, he listens to Brandon mutter, “I’m digging for fire,” along with the song, bobbing his head as they both watch the grass burn.

If it weren’t for the buildings that stood just a stone's throw from where they sat, Curls might just be able to trick himself into thinking he was back in Brentwood. All’s they need is a pint of Carling each and Brandon’s old bucket hat and it might just be convincing.

“Remember when Hollie from The Mill nearly went home with that lad off EastEnders,” Brandon snorts, plucking the story from nowhere and giggling to himself already.

Curls chuckles too, head shaking as he adds, “what a prick he was n’all. Drank fucking—“

“Vodka cranberry with orange!” Brandon cackles as he hands the spliff back again. “Absolute freak. And you goes, ‘sorry mate, but in’t that just—“

And they both chant, “—a sex on the beach?!’” Like it’s the funniest thing to ever have been said.

Curly mutters, “absolute bint,” as the memory of the bloke going red with rage over such a daft, sarcy comment flashes in his mind. "Thank god she fobbed him off. Jesus Christ.”

As soon as the laughter stops, it all feels sour.

He could save up for a bike and, next time Brandon visits, they can find a cool spot to hang out at - some open space where they can see how many tricks they can still do. He’ll get a new speaker and they’ll take it out with them and make a day of it.

He supposes he’s a bit old for that now, though.

“They all miss you too, mate.”

He doesn't dare acknowledge it because he can’t be arsed with getting upset over something else. Instead, he just nods at the ground as he continues to smoke with one hand and scorch the grass blades with the other.

That is until the zoot’s knocked out of his hand as Brandon tugs him into a rough hug that leaves him half on top of him as his mate squeezes him tightly and rubs a hand over his back.

Curly, somehow doesn’t cry this time, but Brandon sounds choked when he mutters, “fuck’s sake,” into his shoulder.

***

He wishes he has more to account for from Brandon’s visit, but he only really has the daytime with him because most of the evenings seemed to be stolen by Jules and his stash of whatever it is he fancies that night.

Brandon’s not the type of lad to get caught up in the shit that Curly has, so it’s too bloody easy for him to dip in and out of it all.

Curls hangs out with them one night and sneaks a hit in his bedroom because he doesn’t want to force his bad habits onto Brandon after refusing to let him do coke with Jules.

On the last two nights though, both after long days of dragging their feet around the town centre and talking shit around gobs full of fast food, Brandon and Jules decide they want to clear out the stash that Blake had brought over on that first night, so Curls keeps out of their road.

They wake up together every morning though and share a spliff in bed while Curly skips through new songs that he’s heard that haven’t made it to England just yet. On the very last night, he compiles them all onto a CD for Brandon to take home with him.

***

The drive to the airport isn’t long, but Brandon complains for the first half of the journey because his arse hurts. Curly can’t wait to hear how he gets on with sitting through the long flight ahead. After a while though, they’re smoking out of the windows in silence.

The few days spent together went too quickly, but Brandon already has plans to come back for his birthday.

“I’ll miss you, mate,” Brandon says around a breath of smoke. “It’s proper shit without you.”

“Grow up,” Curls sniffs, but they’re both smiling. “You’ve got a shit tattoo on your arse to keep you company now.”

They don’t cry or anything when they say goodbye, but they sit in the car for a good half an hour whilst Brandon wills himself to get out. Curly offers to walk him to the gate but Brandon says, “no thanks, bender,” and honestly, it’s a relief because Curls doesn’t want to drag it on any longer than they need to.

Maybe he has a bit of a cry on the way back, but nobody is there to witness it except the middle-aged woman he gets stuck next to on the motorway, so it technically doesn’t happen at all.

He smokes a few more than usual because he feels extra sorry for himself.

When he gets home, Jules and Oscar are building a tower out of cards because they’ve got nowt better to do. He goes to bed.

Translations lol

Mortal - very drunk

Gaff - house

Fobbed off - get rid/reject

[septicbadger]

The beginnings of a story I started to write a long time ago (probably sometime 2015) that I never got that far into but decided to share today as it’s Sean’s 30th birthday...

"Uh... This is fun," muttered Sean, it was a history lesson. His class had been learning all about Greece's philosophers and to be honest he was bored, he didn't care. He would rather be at home just playing Pokémon on his gameboy, his first console. Looking down at his right arm, he saw his fourteen year old hands, they were rough and his finger nails were dirty from playing outside in the woods by his house. Then he gazed at his sleeve, it was ruffled at the end and was green, the colour of Ireland, his home land.

Then the bell rang and Sean was smacked back to reality, finally the lesson had ended, it was breaktime! He rushed outside into the playground to play football with a few of his secondary school 'friends'.

Billy, Steve, Suzy and Betty were waiting and wanted to play while some of his other classmates mingled, among them, Larry, Bobby, Mike, Mary and Harry.

There were two teams but they were unfair. It was Billy Betty and Suzy vs. Sean and Steve and Sean was in goal. The game started well, Betty in her baggy school uniform had the ball first and was quite slow because of her weight but then Billy, the smaller of the group took the ball from her then turned to attack Sean and Steve. Steve whizzed past Sean, he was always been the best at this game, it was like he had a segway in defence. Suzy was minding her own business, her mind floating off into the air when she was running to attack with Billy. She, not concentrating and looking at Billy through her glasses, slammed into Sean whilst he was in the air and they banged heads and Sean got a gash above his left eye. Then Billy scored.

"Billy! I was on the floor you can't score a goal when I'm down!" complained Sean he was tearing up and his left eye stung like hell.

"Oh, ha sorry. Not! I bet you were glad to bump into Suzy anyway," Billy teased.

"Shut your mouth Billy or I'll close it for you!" shouted Sean through the pain.

"Is that a threat?" asked Billy, " how sweet, and while you're still on the floor."

"Billy just be quiet!" commanded Sean.

"No!" then Billy ran on ashamed but not regretting what he did, a smirk on his face.

"Screw...You....Billy!!"screamed Sean whilst his eye bled.

 This grabbed the attention of Steve and Betty who were watching the spectacle while Suzy had gone to tell the teacher.

"Are you okay Buddy?" asked Steve, Sean's video gaming friend.

"Of course I'm... ," said Sean but he couldn't hide the pain.

"Oh My God! Sean. Oh no, oh no!" Betty panicked.

Sean had to say something to shut her up. "Calm your tits Betty. I'll be alright but Billy won't."

Sean was between emotions.

* * *

It had been two and a half weeks and Sean's eye had become infected. He had been acting normally, trying not to hit Billy, playing video games with Steve, playing at break and climbing and swinging from his favourite tree outside his house but today things would change.

He arrived at school, his normal cheerful self but with his mum. "Goodbye Jack," she called. Sean knew why he was called Jack because of Sean being like Irish John, "and remember honey the doctor said, don't touch your eye even if you think it looks cool and 'badass'."

"Goodbye," Sean cried when he saw Billy sniggering in the corner.

"Hey, look it's jacksepticeye!" Billy loudly mocked, "How are you Jacky?"

Sean bit his lip. Hopefully ma didn't hear, he thought, and hopefully she won't hear this. Sean deeply exhaled.

"Billy. You will get a beating you little ginger tw-"

Sean's mum ran to the scene, she had heard and Billy ran to class. "Sean William McLaughlin come here now!"

"But... Ma I was being a Boss," She looked directly at him. "Yes Ma," he unwillingly obeyed.

"Straight home with you!"

When they arrived back Sean ran away to hang in the forest. He hastily made his way to his favourite place but he tripped.

"Ouch!" He had tripped on a piece of jutting metal. He looked down at the design. It looked alien. He, being an adventurous young boy, dug out the top part of this. He saw what looked to be a pod. Sean with his +1 biceps pulled it out from the ground. It was so easy, it was like it had been buried and lightly covered over.

 He gazed at the 90 centimetre tall pod. It was a dark metal oval with light gray fins and highlights, there was a deep ocean green button at its base. Sean felt the urge to push it, like he knew what to do and he had to do it. A pod door opened up to reveal the capsule inside. Sean was amazed at all the flashing lights, levers and buttons of all varying sizes and colours. He saw the leather backing of the pod, it was about the size to fit a baby.

Sean ran back to tell his mum about it.

"Ma...Ma, 's awesome!"

"Honey what's awesome?"

"I found an alien pod with all these amazing lights and controls, it could have been an escape pod or something! Come I'll show you!" Sean was so excited he could barely speak.

"No," his mother said," I have something to tell you, you might want to sit down. We're moving soon in two weeks exactly in fact to live closer to grandma in a huge forest, you'll have all the trees in the world to play in but you won't see your friends again."

"What? Ma you didn't tell me!" This had put a downer on things and Sean felt betrayed. "But..."

"I'm sorry honey but things have already been arranged. You can forget about that pod as well, you're not allowed in the forest again with that eye of yours."

  But Sean would never forget, never tell anyone about it again. He would always remember, the pod and its existence. He even came up with some theories why his mother wouldn't acknowledge it existed and occasionally in the future he would joke about them like in his childhood:

 That he was a Boss of the Bossatronios, an alien race that once ruled the Planet Bossatron.

He thought that he had come in that pod. That his parents and siblings took him in as Sean, a normal Irish lad.

 He wasn't far off.

   Chapter 1: The Message

"Well I'm going to leave this episode here! If you liked it, punch that like button in the face, LIKE A BOSS! Aaand, high fives all around!" Sean said with energy as he high fived his YouTube audience. "But thank you guys so much for watching and I'll see all of you... IN THE NEXT VIDEOOO!" He shouted as loud and almost as high as his voice could go, it had been a good episode of Reading Your Comments and was a long time in the making, episode one hundred.

Sean ended the recording at precisely 9:42, took off his headphones and stood up in his home. His green brown and slightly grey (never to be talked about) hair was ruffled as he stood. His manly short beard was the way it always was, just an extended stubble leading around his mouth. It was time for a snack.

When he got back he decided to open up a game a fan of his had said she had made when he had attended the recent PAX. It was a convention where he had his own panel and met so many of his fans. It all meant so much to Sean but he wondered whether the USB contained a virus.

He download the game called. S.E.A.N and a loading screen appeared once he ran it. There was no menu, just a pixelated green field, Sean wondered what the game could really be about. He used his mouse to look around at the game's surroundings. Then a message popped up.

Hello S.E.A.N, or maybe Sean or Jack. You probably remember meeting me don't you, a human meeting a human. Well neither of us were human. Press enter to continue...

Then the game crashed and his computer buzzed."What the hell?" asked Sean, "This shouldn't happen!"

A new window appeared. Sean sat back down trying to get his computer to respond. But it didn't. He couldn't close the window or minimize it. All that there was was a blank screen and he stared at it through beautiful blue eyes.

Then the screen of his computer went to a blue screen. Sean didn't know what to think. Should he press enter or not? Was his name just an acronym? He remembered that pod in the forest.

He hadn't seen it ever again. He had never spoken seriously of it since when he was a child.

He remembered the people from his secondary school. He had even named some of the characters after them in games that he had played.

He had become a big success since his teenage years. He had played many great games on his channel named jacksepticeye. He had become a popular YouTuber, 15 million strong and always growing.

You know what? thought Sean.

YOLO BITCHES!!!

He clicked enter and his world was turned upside down.

* * *

The first thing he saw was a blinding flash of sea foam green. His eyes squinted into his new surroundings. He felt different, inside and out. He wasn't quite himself anymore, he was just a character in a video game. But this video game felt and looked as real as life.

Sean touched his nose, it felt like plasticene. He checked for his hat, but all he touched was his green hair. He was still Sean but also not him. His mind, his looks belonged to his human body but his body felt looser. And through his pixel eyeballs was a new world.

Chapter 2: The Party

He was in a stone hall. He recognised the walls, the stairs, the floors, the arches and the pedestal where a body lay: he was in his favourite game, Shadow of the Colossus. He stepped towards the body, like Wander in the game. But from under the cloths came a skeleton.

"Hello, human! I m the great Papyrus! And you shall place me in the royal guard!"

This skeleton Jack knew from Undertale in his red, white and gold outfit and spoke in jack's voice for him. He was basically the best and deserved more recognition. Sean remembered having to kill him in the genocide run and he remembered their date. It all filled him with determination.

"I'm taking you to Undyne!" said Papyrus and suddenly an orange portal appeared which Jack knew was from the game Portal and he was whisked away. Papyrus didn't mind so much, he was thinking about spaghetti.

They arrived through the portal. Jack was stuck between two green blocks and in front of him were six people, an elf, a little girl, a baby boy, two men and a chubby woman, standing still on floating green platforms. Jack recognised these characters from Happy Wheels. He didn't recognise the level when in fact it was the first level he played that someone had made for him in the game.

"Wowie! I'm on a horse! There is a pile of swords in front of me!"

Jack turned his head and behind him surely enough was a pile of swords. This was a sword throw level. Papyrus was sure enough sitting on a horse, Agro, the black horse from Shadow of the Colossus. The question was- through his own eyes could Jack kill the people?

That question didn't need to be answered as from out of Sean's vision came a kid in an orange top, just like Billy's from school. He had remembered the kid when naming the character for Happy Wheels as they wore the same clothes and were both ginger and "Screw you Billy" became a known saying.

Billy leaped onto Papyrus, Agro spooked and fell forward. Jack pulled the swords away and they all fell on him, as they fell through another portal: this one was blue.

They were all falling through the clouds. Sean, Papyrus, Agro and Billy together. Suddenly, a god like figure appeared in the clouds. She was just a head and shoulders appearing to them as they fell. This figure had brown hair and greenish hazel eyes."Evie!" said Sean.

Immediately, CleverBot Evie that Jack had done many videos on, turned into a hologram and came up on Sean's face like Cortana from Halo. He remembered when she guessed his name.

"Oh God!" he said to both that video and the fact that she was on his HUD, ready to be talked to.

One last portal appeared, orange and they all ended up in a blank void. There was a lamppost in the centre. Sean remembered The Beginner's Guide. Suddenly, before he could react, Jack's character from Skate 3, Betty, came through the portal on Pink Lighting, a trike from Turbo Dismount.

Sean stood up. He couldn't help thinking, "OOOOOWWWWW PINK LIGHTING!" Papyrus and Billy sat on Agro.

"Now I have three humans in my custody!" exclaimed the skeleton.

"Help me! Where am I? There's a skeleton!" moaned Billy in his high pitched bitch voice. Jack didn't care, he was enjoying this.

Agro neighed, majestic and not bothered by the stupid people on him.

Betty stood up in her black t-shirt and jeans. "This isn't my skateboard!" she said as she jumped off Pink Lighting and towards Jack.

"Hi, Betty," began Sean.

"How do you know my name? Who are you? Where am I? Did you bring me here?" She was full of questions!

"Um... well." Sean didn't know what to say. He didn't want to say that she was from a game he had played and this was another game made for him.

"Hi, I'm Sean. I know your name from er... well, I've heard of your great skating. We have been sent here, I don't know where, to together take down a common enemy, the Yllib, threatening our lives. And... no I didn't bring you here."

Betty stepped closer, looking beyond Sean at a skeleton and a little kid, on top of a horse. "So, obviously I'm the leader of whatever you guys are."

"Um... ok. This is Billy, Papyrus and Agro," explained jacksepticeye, pointing at the three characters bickering. Papyrus grabbed Billy and took them both off the horse, walking towards them.

"Have you told them what we're here for?" Betty asked.

"No."

"Well maybe you could be my second in command, tell them the boring stuff and get them together."

Papyrus and Billy arrived next to videogame Sean. "You two humans come here. You are now my prisoners. This child knows nothing. Tell me how we get out of here, one with green hair,  this is not the underground." And with his skeletal fingers Papyrus pointed at Sean.

"Help me you two. Uhhhng I want my daddy!"

"Shut up Billy!"shouted Sean and Billy went quiet. "Well, we are here to take down a common enemy, the Yllib who are threatening Snowdin, Skate Parks and Hap- BMX tracks. We have been sent here to find a way to stop them."

"But tell them how we get out, second in command," said Betty.

"How do we get out?" Sean muttered to Evie. He had been feeling quite cool debriefing people.

"By understanding everything is connected," Evie droned out in Jack's mind. Papyrus was getting impatient and was tapping his foot whilst Betty looked concerned. Billy was just a little bitch.

"No, we need a portal."

"Yes, you need a point," said Evie. Oh my god, how dumb can a CleverBot get? thought Sean, I need a portal!

Sure enough a portal opened far away in the distance behind Agro who was now smelling Pink Lighting. "Through that portal over there."

"Through that human tamed beast over there? Is that a portal?" Papyrus questioned.

"No not Agro! That blue portal in the distance. But we will need transportation. Papyrus, your greatness, and you, Commander Betty, will ride with me on Agro the horse. Billy you can have Pink Lighting and do try to keep up you little bitch," finished Jack.

The team galloped off towards the portal in the black void. And behind them Billy pedalled with his small legs. He hated Sean. To him, he was a big bitch. And this trike was Billy's least favourite shade of pink.

* * *

Sean, Betty, Papyrus and Agro arrived at the portal, looking amazing atop their steed. Jack wanted to leave Billy behind but Pink Lightning was too precious and Billy was put in the game for a reason. As they waited time ticked on...

TWO GAME HOURS LATER

"Go Billy, go, go, go!" screamed Sean at Billy, trying to motivate him. He was five metres away from arriving next to them.

"Next time, that skeleton can have this," panted Billy.

"Fine," agreed Betty.

"I agree, it is fair that I, the great Papyrus, get the best vehicle!"

"Right, everyone let's go!" said Betty. "Can you take the horse?" She beckoned at Sean and he followed, just having fun, playing the game.

They stepped towards the portal, Billy following Betty, Papyrus being a 'cool dude' on Pink Lightning and Sean guiding Agro's nose at the back. "Now the real game begins," said Evie in Jack's mind. She winked.

* * *

They all arrived on a realistic looking game graphic platform. It looked like it was from the Borderlands games and was all grey metal. Jack wished for Loader Bot to come out and say "Hi." in his robotic voice and do his thumb up pose. But nobody came...

"Where are we now, human?" asked Papyrus to Betty, getting off Pink Lightning.

"Sean!" she cried as him and Agro entered the conversation, "explain where we are!"

"Um..." Jack didn't know what to say. It didn't help that Billy was calling for his dad behind Betty and Papyrus. "I don't kno-"

Sean was cut short as suddenly something appeared, a  big portal. From the huge purple rift in space came...

...that’s as far as younger me got, thanks for reading if you made it down here!

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 102 - Like the start of every hot-housewife p*rno I have ever seen

By mid-afternoon, Blake had deemed today as an utter wright-off.

The rain was lashing hard at the windows and a whistling wind seemed to blow an icy cold draft under every door, dropping the temperature inside the gloomy factory by several degrees.

There was no way she or any of the other Saviours could work in the garden for the rest of today. So instead, the caramel-blonde woman had relegated herself to doing something else that had taken her fancy on this cold, dark and stormy day.

And so, after heading back to her room an hour ago, ditching Danny around the corner (only needing him as far as the end of Negan's corridor to try and get a rise out of the dark-haired Saviour) Blake had hurriedly gotten dressed, flinging on a pretty flowery dress that tied at the waist and a pale blue button up sweater from her closet, and had soon, with a contented sigh, headed down to the marketplace and the stores, to pick up the items she required before bringing them back up here to her room on the second floor.

And now here she was….…making brownies.

Blake hadn't baked anything since waaaaay back before the start of all of this. And even then, that had been just a birthday cake for one of her colleagues at work, that David and his friends after coming home drunk one evening, had torn apart and devoured amongst themselves, before it had even reached her anyway.

Blake wasn't sure what had come over her.

Here she was…baking….like a good little wife. A sudden urge having overwhelmed her to make something sweet during this rare bit of spare time.

And so, after picking out the ingredients (perhaps a little selfishly) from the pantry, she had come up here and gotten to work.

Although Blake's intentions were not all that selfish, hoping that once she was done, she could go downstairs and share them with some of the lower-ranking Saviours, of which were mainly kids and older folk, in the dining hall later.

Her room had a small little kitchenette on one side, that Blake had not even touched since she had arrived here at the Sanctuary, the worktops gathering dust and the small powered oven never having even been switched on.

Even whilst living at Alexandria, Blake had only ever stuck to making easy dishes like pasta with sauce and eating heated canned goods where she could get it. After living out on the road and eating only basic scavenged rations and roadkill, finding even those bland foods too much for her stomach to handle.

Cooking wasn't exactly her forte, but hey, neither was gardening, and Blake had soon taken to that well enough.

But now the caramel-blonde woman was stood at her kitchen counter, mixing ingredients in a large bowl, as the window over to her right rattled a little with the carrying wind.

She pondered now what a winter in this place would be like.

The Sanctuary itself was large and built up, but certainly draughty at times, so it wasn't really a surprise to her that the wives had requested pants to wear. For really that wasn't that much to ask in this world, now was it?

Blake dwelled on the women a little now, wondering how their sore-heads had been this morning, and wondering whether Negan had been to see them as he had threatened to. She promised herself that she would make time to go see them later today and have a catch up.

But Blake, a little lost in thought, jumped now, as the door behind her was suddenly shoved open.

She hurriedly dropped her wooden spoon into the bowl with a small clatter and clutched a hand to her chest in fright, turning quickly to see Negan strutting through the door, without Lucille for once, but with a wide, arrogant, questioning grin, fixed onto his long, bearded face instead.

"Jesus, you gave me a fright," Blake breathed out, eyeing him with wide green orbs.

But Negan's own chocolate gaze flickered over her now, taking in every inch of Blake's appearance as well as the brownie ingredients spread out on the work surfaces behind her.

"Well this is where you are…" he growled, hovering in the doorway and lifting his chin as he surveyed her. "I have been searchin' high and low around this god-forsaken fuckin' place for you, and here you are all along, bakin' Daddy up some treats by the looks of it."

At his words Blake couldn't help but smirk, but even so, still rolled her eyes, turning her back on him now and picking up her spoon once again.

"These are not for you, Negan," she purred with a small sigh.

Behind her she head the door snap shut gently, as a pair of heavy boots crossed the room towards her.

She smiled to herself, in an instant feeling a warm trickle of breath on her neck and a possessive hand slip around her waist, pulling her backward into a tall and taut body.

"Hold your fuckin' horses there, Sweetheart," the dark-haired man murmured in an incredulous voice into her ear. "Cause', hell, this look like my goddamn shit your using to make them. So I think I am more than fuckin' entitled to take what I want."

Blake gave another hard sigh, stirring her ingredients and ignoring Negan's comment.

But it wasn't even another second later, that the leader of the Saviours spoke again, coming to rest his prickly bearded chin against her shoulder, as Blake leant back against him easily.

"Y'know I never had you down for the Martha Stuart type, Peaches," he hummed in a low voice, into her ear. "An' yet here. you. are, cookin' up a goddamn storm, and lookin' like the start of every hot-housewife porno I've ever seen."

Blake's lips twitched slightly, as she pulled her face back a little and turned her head, eyeing him.

"And I'm guessing you've seen a lot of them have you?" she uttered in an amused voice.

But Negan, looking as cocky as he ever did, merely widened his grin, showing off his set of white teeth as he did so.

"Oh fuckin' plenty, Darlin'," he chuckled, as Blake pursed her lips, tutting, as she turned away from him once more.

But from behind her, she felt Negan bounce slightly on his heels.

"But in fact, while we're on the subject of pornos," he said in giddy voice. "I have got Rick's ol' video camera upstairs that I thought we could make use of. Make a few home videos of our own if you catch my fuckin' drift.…"

But at once, Blake made a face, catching his drift indeed…

"Nu-uh, no way, Negan," she scoffed, batting his hands away from her as they playfully slid further around her middle squeezing at her tightly. "My job in building this big new world, is not going to be to make pornos with you, thank you very much!"

At this she heard Negan give a low grumbling growl into her ear.

"Suit your fuckin' self, Sweetheart," he tutted, suddenly and without warning, reaching around Blake now and swiping his finger into the bowl of mixture and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking it clean.

"Hey," she reprimanded, swatting at his hand with her own paw, as the dark-haired Saviour pressed his body further into her now.

"Mmmhmmm, now that shit tastes good," he mused, as Blake smiled to herself now, rolling her eyes a little.

God, he really could be such a pain in her ass sometimes…but even so, he made her happier than anyone else had made her in a very, very long time.

Her and David had never been like this….like two teenagers, caught up with each other, having fun…

With him it had always been serious…and barely even a few months into her relationship, David had moved in with her, almost treating her like his maid at times. It all getting way too serious, too fast.

So here, now…all this with Negan…it was like she could finally be happy, even in this screwed up world.

He made her feel protected and cared for, giving her everything she could ever want.

But why?

Did he really feel the same for her as what she felt for him?

It truly felt like it now.

But after years of being used and not seeing David for what he truly was, Blake didn't want to mess this up…overthink things…get in too deep and say the wrong thing.

So she held off, giving the tiniest of gulps now, and reaching for an awaiting baking tray, and easily pouring the chocolatey mixture into it.

Blake could feel Negan's dark eyes watching her every movement quietly. But the silence between the pair of them was not an uncomfortable one.

"You remember when you gave me this room?" she murmured conversationally after a long drawn out minute had passed them both by. "I thought it was some kind of trick at first…."

Negan grinned, pulling back a little and allowing Blake to bend down and place the tray of brownies into the oven, turning the dial.

"Pfft. Well I ain't a monster, an' I wasn' about to keep you locked downstairs in that fuckin' cell forever now was I?" he said in a carrying voice, as Blake shut the oven door, wiping her hands on a dishcloth and turning to face the dark-haired man now, pressing her back up against the counter top behind her. "I could see that it was never your fuckin' choice to come here in the first place. An' I wasn't about to stick you in a goddamn room with your asshole of a fi-an-ce."

Blake gave a small nod now, pursing her lips, remembering those less-than-fond memories.

"Well it's lucky you didn't…" she said in a quiet voice. "Because I think if David had gotten his way, I doubt I'd even be standing here right now. I'd probably be outside chained to that stupid fence with the rest of the dead."

That was the truth in her voice. Had things been different, had Negan not been here, Blake was likely be dead now by David's hand. And that alone was a scary thought.

But Negan, lowered his chin, pressing his own bearded lips together, looking slightly stern, the slightest of frowns darkening his brow as he pondered this.

"Well I'm fuckin' glad I made the right decision there…despite how much you smart-mouthed me to start with, Peaches," he said raising his eyebrows, and taking a small step into her now.

And at his words, Blake couldn't help but smile softly, parting her lips as she grazed his mouth with hers.

She kissed him gently, their lips parting and meeting again softly several times…making the most deliciously wet noises she had ever heard.

Before, giving a small sigh, Blake gently pulled away, turning back around in Negan's arms contently and making to clean up the kitchen counter top.

But Negan obviously had other plans, the caramel-blonde woman feeling him press a grin into her hair, as his hands skimmed down her thighs, before dragging them upwards once more, rumpling the hem of her dress as he went.

Blake, lifting her eyes dead-ahead of her now, gave a slow blink, knowing full-well where his hand was going to go to next.

And as predicated, it wasn't a second later, that she felt Negan glide his digits down between her legs, causing her to give a small gulp of delicious agony and lean back into him a little.

"Mmmm, well, shit….cotton fuckin' panties, huh?…" Negan commented in a low, excited, humming voice into her ear now. "I have got to say, Peaches, I am loving this new you…goin' from badass to wholesome in just a couple of hours. You are keepin' me on. my. toes, Sweetheart!"

Blake's lips curved into a grin, feeling his expert fingers now glide over her the fabric that lay in between her hot, wet pussy, reaching her aching clit and causing her to jolt slightly, giving a moan of need.

But Negan merely chuckled into her ear through Blake's mass of caramel hair, as her fingers tensed around the edge of the counter top.

God, she wanted him…

"You like that, Darlin'?" he growled out now. "Hmmm? Does my fuckin' girl want me to fuck her over this goddamn counter?"

And Blake could only manage a desperate nod now, as she closed her eyes feeling Negan reach beneath her dress and pull her panties down her legs in one swift and rough movement.

Fuck…..this had all happened pretty fast.

Not that Blake was complaining.

Negan's hand reached up again now, running his fingers over the sticky cream that coated her glazed cunt, giving a grunt into her ear, as his other hand fumbled at his own belt buckle hurriedly.

Blake parted her lips wetly, her stomach convulsing as two of Negan's fingers disappeared up inside her slit just for a brief moment, pumping into her, before he pulled them out, holding his cum-covered digits to her mouth.

"Lick it all up, there's a good fucking girl," he groaned out now, easing his finger into her mouth, as the sound of his zipper being undone carried though the room now. "Cause' I've got a feelin' you taste as good as those goddamn brownies."

And Blake did as she was told, hurriedly sucking both of Negan's fingers clean, one-by-one.

She tasted herself, acidic yet sweet, like oranges and honey, and gave a small moan as Negan removed his fingers from her mouth, hitching up her dress a little from behind.

"Bend over for me, Peaches," came another whisper from the dark-haired Saviour behind her now, which caused Blake to gulp, all the breath suddenly leaning her body, as she felt Negan position his stiff cock at her hot, wet entrance.

The pair of them really were instantiable…

Both of them with equally high sex drives, and equally desperate for one another.

But Blake obeyed Negan's request, lowering herself forwards against the kitchen worktop before her and presenting her ass for him, feeling his slide his dick in and out of her folds a couple of times precariously.

Before the caramel-blond woman gave a grunting whine, frowning slightly, as she felt Negan stretch her wide and enter her fully.

His hands were on her hips now, as he wavered for a brief moment, giving an audible gulp, obviously appreciating the sensation of being buried into her up to his hilt.

But it wasn't a couple of seconds later that Negan eased himself out, before slamming himself into her once more, causing Blake to close her eyes, letting out a harsh breath of air.

"Shit," Negan uttered bluntly, his breaths already ragged in his throat before they had barely begun, but even so, he persevered, pulling out before slowly thrusting into her again….and again….and again…..

Fuck….this was heaven.

Or maybe instead, a delectable sort of hell…with Blake bent over and Negan well and truly fucking her brains out.

She gasped out as Negan thrust into her harder now, building momentum.

The room was filled with hot pants, the sound of Negan's chinking belt, and the hot, slick sound of Negan's dick coated in Blake's juices as he slid it in and out of her tight pussy.

Her hand and elbows were pressed flat to the surface of the worktop and her eyes on the faux-marble top, dusted with flour, getting her pretty, floral dress a little messy.

But right now Blake didn't care, as another moan of utter pleasure left her pink and swollen lips.

Sex with Negan was not like any sex she had had before.

This was dirty and hot, and everything Blake had ever fantasized about

And the caramel-blonde woman couldn't help the frown that twitched between her brows, opening her mouth in an o-shape of utter pleasure, feeling her orgasm building.

As much as she loved taking control, sometimes it was certainly nice for Negan to just take exactly what he wanted from her…just bending her over and fucking her, unable to help himself. Wanting her just that badly.

"Nnnngggfff," he breathed out, Blake hearing the dark-haired Saviour lifting his closed eyes to the ceiling, as a gulp slid its way over his Adam's apple, obviously trying to hold off on cumming, as long as he possibly could.

But Blake couldn't.

And it wasn't even a minute later, that she whined out, her walls clenching around Negan's cock as her head fell forwards, her dragging across the floury surface beneath her.

Negan grunted at the sound she made, his grip on her hips and ass tightening, as he leaned in towards her slightly.

"Unfff, I'm gonna cum, Darlin'..." he murmured thickly, but the words had barely left his mouth, and so with Negan holding his dick firmly inside her, he soon sent stream upon stream of hot, white cum up into her cunt.

Both of them stood there for a moment, propped up by the counter now, breathing hard.

Before Negan, letting his hands slide up to Blake's shoulder, moved aside a small strand of blonde hair, pressing a kiss to her smooth shoulder.

At that feeling, Blake, still catching her breath, and trembling slightly on her feet, smiled gently.

Happy.

And it was just a second or two later, that Negan slowly eased himself out of her, as Blake stiffly pushed herself up once more, wincing a little as she did so.

They had to stop doing that, she knew it.

She was not taking any form of contraception right now and Negan cumming inside her was becoming a very regular occurrence right now. Twice in one day today, for example. And she just could not risk getting pregnant. Not after two miscarriages anyway. Not in this world.

Blake made a mental note to herself to go see Dr Carson later today or tomorrow.

She bent slightly, sliding her white cotton panties up her thighs one more, as she glanced over at Negan, who was sat now, on the edge of her bed, hand pressed to his un-stiffening cock and his eyes closed.

"Everything ok?" Blake mused, folding her arms across herself bemusedly, as she eyed him. His member still slick and glazed with her juices by the looks of it.

But Negan merely opened his chocolate eyes slowly, grinning over at her contently.

"Oh, it. is peachy fuckin' keen, Doll-face," he said reaching out his free hand and beckoning her over towards him.

Blake, smirking to herself, did as he wanted, padding over towards him on bare-feet, her front now completely covered in flour , as she came to straddle him, sitting down onto his lap, as his hands moved to her waist, sliding around her middle.

The dark-haired leader of the Saviours gazed up at her now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. A look of utter awe passing over his long, bearded face.

No one had ever looked at Blake like Negan did, and this alone made butterflies swirl inside her.

She wanted so much to stay here forever with him now….

Just him and her.

"You really are a fuckin' queen, you know that, Darlin'?" Negan mused, his eyes taking in every inch of her face now, as Blake placed her hands gently to his leather-clad shoulders.

She licked at her lips slowly, smiling.

"I really wasn't before I met you, y'know," she answered in a quiet voice, a blush creeping up over her chest.

But Negan, reaching his hand up to Blake's face, swiped his thumb over her cheek, brushing away a little flour that lingered there, giving a sigh.

"Oh I bet you fuckin' were, Peaches…" he murmured now, gazing into her eyes. "I just don' think anyone gave you the fuckin' opportunity to shine."

Blake felt a lump appearing in her throat now, as she dropped her gaze from Negan's for the tiniest of moments, before staring up into his eyes once again.

"Thank you," she said in a voice barely louder than whisper now…..

… realising, truly and utterly, that she was so, so desperately in love with him.

Finally admitting it to herself...after all this time.

But still not quite plucking up the courage to admit it to Negan himself yet….

…instead, smiling and kissing at Negan's bearded lips once more.

There she was, caught in heaven now…both of them so wrapped up in one another…

Kissing gently at the other's lips….

…..neither of them noticing the strong smell of burning and smoke that had suddenly filled the small room.

Suddenly a sharp twinge hit Blake's nose and she pulled back from Negan, her eyes widening as she realised just what she could smell and see.

"Shit!" she cried, pushing herself from the dark-haired man now, readjusting her dress and getting hurriedly to her feet.

Running over, Blake quickly grabbed a dishcloth, opening the oven and tugging the tray of brownies out, placing them down onto the counter top, her other hand wafting away the steam and smoke as she did so.

Luckily, as the smoke cleared, taking a good look at them, they didn't look too bad. Perhaps a little caught around the edges, but even so, still pretty good.

She heard Negan behind her give a stiff grunt, easing himself from the bed and doing up the zipper on his pants and rethreading his belt buckle.

"Now those smell good enough to fuckin' eat, Sweetheart," he uttered out in a low growling voice, coming up behind Blake now and reaching over her shoulder for the tray of dessert, but Blake slapped his hand away.

"I told you, Negan," she scolded in a high-pitched voice. "These aren't for you."

The tall Saviour gave a grumble now and Blake could almost feel him pouting over her shoulder like a moody teenager.

"Well that's fuckin' gratitude for you, ain't it…" he said taking a step or two away from her now, as she glanced at him over her shoulder coyly, watching as the dark-haired man leaned back against his long legs and pointed at her, raising his eyebrows aloft in a teasing manner. "I provide you with shit, an' you give me nothin' in return. That how our entire relationship is gonna be, Princess?"

There it was, their playful banter returning again….causing Blake's lips to twitch slightly.

God, he truly did make her happy in so, so many ways.

But the caramel-blonde woman, brushing down the front of her dress neatly, just gave an easy shrug of her shoulders.

"Maybe," she purred out. "But you knew what you were getting into…"

And with that, she threw Negan a playful wink, before turning back to her brownies.

"Like I told you the first time we fucked, Negan.." she continued in a carrying voice, without looking around. "I like to be on top."

Behind her, at her words, she heard the leader of the Saviours let out an appreciative chuckle, dragging his hand down his stubbly bearded face and giving a heavy whining sigh.

"Oh, I know you do Darlin'," Negan murmured. "An', hell, I ain't gonna argue with that."

There was a short moment of silence where Blake heard Negan cross the room, heading over towards the door now.

"I've got a meetin'," he informed her. "But I will see. you. later, Peaches. Hopefully boucnin' up and down on my dick…as per fuckin' usual, seein' as you like it on top."

And Blake could only smile to herself now, rolling her eyes hard as she replied.

"Bye, Negan…" she uttered back in warning return, hearing the door open and close behind her, leaving the blonde queen, alone once more.

[reignsrkive]

‣ Exes Prompt List

4 ⌜You get drunk on our ‘would be one year anniversary if we didn’t break up’ and show up at my brother’s birthday party. You start spilling everything whilst balling your eyes out⌟

‣ Genre; Angst

‣ Word Count; 1,9k

Today could have been way easier for you. Easier, more fun, enjoyable, actually happy. It really could have been if it wasn’t for that one minor detail that to you, seemed way more important than it could be for others. Even if you told yourself it’s over, that it’s not that important, all you could think of was it. Despite wanting to have fun on your own brother’s birthday party, you sat at the corner of the couch with some whiskey in hand, swirling it around in its red solo cup, thinking of him.

It would have- or better, could have- been your one-year anniversary with Hoseok. Someone that you had planned this party with a long time ago, someone you wished to spend this day with, you had to call him your ex. You still remember planning this party two months ago, each detail perfect, because the two of you had the best teamwork, you couldn’t even deny that. And then, you had to work on your own. You only planned it through stupid cold emails you sent to each other.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this anyway, this was mostly your fault. No- in your head you had made it seem as if it was his fault for letting you decide. But truly? If it wasn’t for you being too overprotective and scared, you would have still been together. You just had to act as if you’re not good for him and his career as a dancer, you just had to push him away because you were scared. He kept pushing and pushing for you to change your mind, kept telling you how you’re actually the one keeping him grounded and sane through all of this process of working hard to get a job, to do gigs and train.

Yet he at one point broke, only because he felt as if you didn’t want him anymore. As if this was your way of saying, ‘I’m tired of you, this constant back and forth of giving more attention to your work and being too exhausted every day is making me feel sick of you and I don’t think I love you anymore’. You couldn’t be wrong, either of you with your silly assumptions. Breakups can occur from big things, things that actually need to be solved with a breakup and true, actual separation and space. Nevertheless, this was a prime example of how breakups can be big mistakes and a result of not expressing your feelings and worrying too much.

You knew your brother was going to be out for a little while before actually attending his own party, and it was already 2am until he arrived. The people had started coming around 11pm and you had to host it on your own. He claimed that he wanted to get a little “tipsy” with his best friends before coming home to have the actual fun, whatever that meant.

The door was mostly forced open as your brother opened it with force and yelled like the drunk animal he was. Yeah, just a little tipsy, as he said. You rolled your eyes at the sight, taking a sip of your whiskey, only to choke slightly on it when you witnessed a tipsy Hoseok walking in, a funny smile ghosting over his lips, patting your brother on the back. “Holy sh-”

You chugged the rest of your whiskey and stood up from the couch, getting into the crowd as you saw Hoseok scanning it, trying to avoid his gaze. “Sorry,” You told someone you accidentally bumped into. “Sorry,” You said to another person. “Ugh fuck, sorry!” You said but realized you bumped into your brother.

“Heyy, sis!” He yelled at you over the music. “Good job, this shit is fucking awesome,” He said. You widened your eyes and nodded at him, cautious of how loud he was. ‘Hoseok could hear, and he could find me, shut the fuck up you idiot’, you thought.

“Yeah, yeah” I nodded. “Right. Uh, what the fuck is Hoseok doing here?” You asked him, completely forward.

“I went out with my best friends. Why do you keep forgetting he’s my best friend, dumbass?” He laughed at you. “He’s kind of out of it today though, I don’t know why. Asshole should have been pumped for his bro’s birthday!” He yelled, his loud words followed by another drunk laugh. “Anyway, I know he’s your ex boy toy, but like, he’s here for me, not you. Don’t get dramatic,”

You rolled your eyes at how much of a dick your brother was when he was drunk and left, seeing Hoseok moved towards your direction. “Yeah, yeah bye have fun!” You yelled back at him and moved around the house, getting yourself another drink. You chugged down a full cup of beer before pouring more whiskey and going to sit on the secluded stairs of your brother’s apartment. Once again, you sat swirling your drink in your cup, but this time anxiety slowly made you deteriorate inside.

If he finds you, what would you do? You weren’t sure if he remembered anyway. It’s been around a month ever since you last saw him, that day being the day of your breakup, and you ached to see him drunk. You didn’t think he had gotten drunk because of the day- if he remembered. How could he be, it’s not like you were a significant loss, right? That’s what you kept thinking.

But of course, fate couldn’t hate you more than you already thought it did. He just had to get more and more shit drunk and go over the stairs and trip on you and fall on his butt right next to you. “Oh fuck, shit, so-” He looked down with a small giggle, before his lips turned into a straight line, his wide eyes showing shock. “Fuck, y/n,” He said. “I can’t see well”

“I can tell,” You took in a sharp breath as he just kept on sitting there, staring at you.

“Happy anniversary” He mouthed, basically rambling without wanting to, the alcohol working its wonders.

“W-what?” You asked, gulping down.

“It would have been our own year today. You know, the big 01″ He said. “But it’s not” He laughed coldly.

You nodded, biting your lip. “I didn’t expect you to actually come”

“He’s my best friend,”

“Right” You nodded. “Right”

“This is shit. Yeah, it couldn’t be worse than how you’re making me feel at this moment” He said, shaking his head. “Like, you’re so frustrating I could bang my head on the wall, and not because of the booze in my system. Because of you and how fucking good you look and how my chest actually fucking hurts. Because of who? You of course. Like, who do you think you are?” He trailed off.

“Hoseok, how much did you have to drink?” You asked him. He only got so aggressive with his emotions whenever he had a little kick of alcohol in him.

“Does it matter? What matters is that I should be celebrating today with my fucking girlfriend!” He groaned in frustration. “But no, I’m not good enough, so I most likely don’t deserve that happen, do I?”

“Maybe you should go home, Hoseok. Should I call you a taxi? Or crush at the spare bedroom” I sighed loudly, listening to him ramble on his drunken state.

He laughed coldly and as he looked at you with frustration, a small tear trickled down his cheek from his tear duct. “I know I wasn’t the best, y/n. I know I probably didn’t deserve you, I wasn’t enough, I know it. But I never wanted to say yes to you breaking up. I never ever wanted to let you go. But there you were, pushing me to do it and I fell for it” He said, fully in tears. “I had it planned out, the anniversary. I’d take you with me to the studio and surprise you, dance for you, I had a whole thing planned out. And then we’d have take out like we always loved to do and talk, laugh, play games. Just be us. You’d look so fucking gorgeous and I’d end up making you feel so good”

“Hoseok...” You trailed off hesitantly as you stood up and stuck your hand out. “Come on. Stand up”

In his state, he just listened and took your hand, the touch making you both feel electricity. You dragged him to the spare room and put him on the bed, looking at him with your arms crossed. Sure, you had him in here now, safe and sound before he did anything stupid. But what were you supposed to do now? “Just close your eyes. Sleep and sober up”

He frowned, his dimples popping out on both of his cheeks, something that always made your stomach flip. It still did, maybe even a little more. “Only if you lay with me. And don’t say that bullshit about exes having rules and shit. Just sit your ass down and cuddle me, I don’t care if you hate me. I need you. Right now” He said, his last few tears falling, his eyes red.

You nodded with a small soft chuckle at how drunk he was, laying down next to him in your dress, taking your heels off. “Sleep”

“If you let me cuddle,” He said. He was drunk, but he sure as hell knew how to act smart when he was.

“You’re not being fair” You rolled your eyes. “And I don’t hate you”

“Sure,” He said, grabbing your waist and pulling you towards him, his chin resting on your head. He breathed in, taking in your scent, reminiscing moments like these. Where he would just hold you, the both of you sitting in your comfortable silence and feeling how much love there was between the two of you. It wasn’t a surprise that it felt just the same. To both him and you. Just a little bitter, knowing you aren’t his and he isn’t yours.

“Sleep”

“Kiss me first,” He answered almost immediately.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “No?”

“Kiss me,”

“Hos-”

Before you could speak, he leaned in, his touch so soft but taking you in entirely. It wasn’t harsh at all, it was like a could touching your lips and moving on them, making you feel all sorts of emotions. And you just accepted it. You missed it too much to say no. Your hand moved to his cheek to ghost over it slowly, your thumb caressing his jaw as he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes. “I miss you so goddamn much. You were so wrong when you kept saying you’re going to be a distraction. It feels like hell. I miss waking up next to you, y/n”

You nodded with a sigh, feeling just the same. “Here’s this. Close your eyes, and I’m going to stay here, just like this. I’m going to sleep next to you and we’re going to wake up tomorrow and maybe... maybe talk about it”

“You want to?”

“If you remember this, that is” 

He nodded and kissed your lips one more time. “Trust me. I never forget”

⁝ Masterlist

[uhthor]

we talk through the liquor

four times where karen meets frank, and the one time he doesn’t show

or, the one where karen is dragged into a double date with sarah, david and frank

Karen laboured in a work place full of men. A place with such a negative ethic where she had to practically beg Ellison to hire another female intern. He let her sit in on the interviews and the meetings, which shocked her, but revealed that it was something he wanted to see more in her: strife. She wasn’t to take any more shit.

Six months to the day, Karen had bonded majorly with Sarah Taylor, the two of them becoming the absolute “best of friends”. In terms of work, they’d taken on bigger cases they could chew only to report them efficiently; enforced the idea of femininity in the Bulletin, Ellison having no choice but to obey their want for more female roles of power; and gotten pass out level drunk more than once together.

A Wednesday morning; Sarah knocked on the door of Karen’s shoebox apartment with a coffee and a walk to work ahead of them. It had become routine for them; Sarah living quite a while away so she’d catch the bus to Karen’s block, before they walked the rest of the way together. She said, “You’ll never guess what”

Karen sipped at her coffee as she locked the door to her apartment and shoving her keys into her pocket. She grimaced at the hot liquid that she drunk too eagerly as it burnt her throat. “What?”

Sarah grinned, shoving her free hand in the pocket of her coat. It was cold out, and Karen regretted not wearing something thicker. “You remember that call we went on a few weeks back, right? The Lieberman brothers?”

Karen nodded, the two of them stepping out into the snowy sidewalk. “Don’t tell me that one of them hit on you. The one who was ogling you all through our interview?”

She elbowed Karen who stumbled into the street with a laugh. “He was not! I swear, I didn’t expect it at all. He turned up at the Bulletin the other week when you weren’t in. We…had drinks and things progressed, and now he wants to take me on a proper date… thing”

“Sarah” Karen deadpanned, stopping in the street. “If you pull some double date shit on me right now, I swear—”

“Karen,” she replied, elongating her words as she yanked on her arm. “Please. Look I promise it won’t be anything formal and romantic, just please come along and support me”

“I’m not going to sit opposite some random guy whilst you cosy it up with your date” She proclaimed. “Plus, I have nothing to wear. And, I gained like 50 pounds over thanksgiving, nobody, not even your boyfriend’s friend is going to want to date me”

“That is not true, shut up!” Sarah retorted, her voice going higher and more accusatory. Karen knew the exact tone, and she wasn’t getting off lightly. “When have I ever asked of anything from you?”

“Uh” Karen began, “Literally the other day you asked me to buy a car so we didn’t have to walk to work in the snow. You think I have that kind of money laying around? And for lessons? No. Not a penny”

Sarah went silent. “Okay, I admit. That was a bad example. But Karen, listen, David’s friend is really good looking. I promise, I’ve seen pictures. It’ll just be one date, I absolutely promise. It’s not like I’m forcing you into marriage if things don’t work out. Please, for me”

Karen found herself giving in. “One date. That’s all”

/\

Sarah’s instincts were not wrong.

When Karen entered the bar the four of them were meeting at, she was self-conscious in the outrageously out-of-character red dress that Sarah had made her buy. It turned more than a few heads in the dark bar, and recognising David Lieberman from their previous meeting, she noted the bulky man in a black shirt sat next to him at the bar.

Sarah approached David, the two of them exchanging words of greeting before a small peck on the cheek. Karen reacquainted with David, her memory of him slightly foggy. In their interview, he’d done less of the talking which is why she was getting such an unknown friendly vibe from him as he spoke.

“Lovely to see you again,” He said, shaking her hand with a smile. Karen could only smile back in response, and saying something along the same lines. “This is my buddy Frank,” he said, motioning toward the man sat beside him. “He’s in town for the weekend so I thought I’d bring him along to meet you”

He immediately stood from his bar stool, approaching Karen who instantly felt self-conscious once again as she could feel his eyes on her body. All she could do was smile, holding her hand out for him to shake. He was an attractive man, to say the least, Karen felt her heart flutter slightly. He was exactly the guy she wouldn’t go for, yet, here she was, wanting to know more. “Nice to meet you” She said, watching his every move.

He took hold of her hand, shaking it firmly before smiling back. “Karen, right?”

She nodded, her lips pursed apprehensively. “That’s me”

“Frank” He replied, gruffly. “I, uh, like your dress”

“Glad that someone does” She answered with a nervous laugh. Her hair fell from behind her ear and she found herself running her hands through it quickly, nervously. “Sarah practically forced it on me”

Frank mused over her body once more before speaking with a small smile. “Red suits you”

-

The next time they met, Sarah was turning 30.

She decided to throw a huge party in a hall, inviting almost everyone the two of them knew because of how closely both their lives were intertwined. For almost two months, the entire office was abuzz over her 30th party, everyone planning things behind her back in terms of gifts. Karen found it hard to keep everything a secret.

It’d been about 8 months since she’d gotten into a relationship with David Lieberman, and Karen saw a completely different side of her. Yeah, there had been times where she’d blown Karen off on their movie nights or walks to work because she’d stayed over at David’s the night before and he drove her there. It’s not like Karen wasn’t used to it, she’d been dumped by friends plenty of times in the past.

She stood in the empty room of the town hall downtown from Sarah’s place. They’d arrived hours earlier to set up, and by the time the actual party arrived, Karen’s feet ached like crazy. She took a seat at the bar, instantly ordering a large glass of wine. Her way of coping with the preparations was drinking, so she was already pretty drunk. By the time she’d drank most of her wine, he appeared at the bar.

“Two beers please” He grumbled, before turning on his side to overlook the party. Karen eyed him from her spot, straightening her back as she realised she was slouched over the bar like a desperate loser.

“I bet you don’t remember me” She called over the music. As soon as the words slipped from her drunken slumber, she regretted it. His eyes clocked on hers and she could tell he was slightly startled. He was cleanly shaven, his hair a lot higher on his head than before. In general, he looked well. His loss of a friend in David when he began dating Sarah had obviously not taken such a toll on him as Karen’s loss of Sarah had.

“Of course I do” He answered, his mouth sliding into a lopsided smile. Tonight he sported a dark green shirt. The man looked good in dark colours, Karen noted to herself. She wasn’t wearing red, and she wondered if it was just her that’d remembered that small anecdote. “Karen”

She nodded, not fighting the smile that presented itself on her own face as she looked at him. Sipping from her glass and drinking the remnants of wine, she placed it back on the bar. There was a silence between the two, as close to silence as you could get in the rowdy party, but his eyes remained on her. Karen kept her eyes ahead, feeling his stare burn into her.

“Hey,” Frank then called to the bartender, leaning over the bar slightly with a five dollar bill in his hand. Karen clocked on at his voice, looking toward him to see the bartender approach him once again. “Another glass of red, too, please. For the lady”

Karen stood immediately, yanking the bill from his hands and placing it back on the bar. She shook her head as Frank levelled with her, their chests almost touching as they looked at each other intently. Her drunkenness was not adding to how she felt herself weaken around him, how his stupid face was enough to send her into a fluster. “You don’t have to do that, I’m not incompetent”

“I never said you were,” Frank replied, before he shoved her hand away when she offered the money up, handing the bartender his money before she could complain anymore. “You’re sitting at the bar of your best friend’s birthday party alone. You clearly want to get drunk. At least let me buy you another drink”

“You bought the drinks last time, that’s not fair” She spluttered, folding her arms as she sat back on the stool. Frank sipped at his beer before taking the stool next to her, the gap between their bodies closing in as he shuffled closer toward her. Their legs clashed, his knees bashing against her own. She crossed her ankles to keep her legs as close together as possible and create enough room between them; because she didn’t want him to go.

He merely smirked at her slight slurring. “Then you can repay me in drunken conversation”

And it looked like he didn’t want to, either.

-

It surpassed a year, almost a year and a half, of their relationship before Sarah woke Karen at 2 in the morning screaming with an engagement ring on her finger.

There was an almost immediate party to plan for, and as designated maid of honour, Karen got left with all the huge chores and basic responsibility to make sure that everything was perfect. Her and Sarah began spending more time together, which evidently, was something that she wanted. She took it and held onto every aspect of it.

Sarah had busied herself with the task of selling her place and packing things into storage whilst simultaneously house hunting with David. She’d been staying at Karen’s a few nights, when they got too drunk or Sarah got too tired to go home. By the time the engagement party rolled around, both of them were exhausted.

The theme was white. A specific shade of white, not that it mattered, and everything had to be this specific shade of white, and it pissed Karen off endlessly. The guests outfits could be any colour though, which only confused her more. However Karen knew she’d have to take it easy on the red wine or it’d be visible. Sarah was busy greeting guests, accepting gifts and talking to long lost family and friends, so yet again, Karen’s only acquaintance was a glass of red.

Until he appeared.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this” He said, hands in pockets as he approached her from across the room. She was mid-drink, his voice sending her into a fluster and causing her to spit a little in front of her. Luckily, he was not in the firing line, and only laughed at her response.

“Oh, God, Frank” She replied, pressing her hand to her forehead in exasperation. “I’m getting quite the reputation as an alcoholic with you, every time you see me I’m drinking fucking wine”

He only laughed again, assuming position next to her as the two of them overlooked the hall. “Nice what you’ve done with the place. David told me all about this white colour scheme. How absolutely riveting”

“Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I see” Karen answered lowly, leaning toward him discreetly. His cologne wafted her way, cinnamon. Frank let lose another laugh, causing Karen to snort quietly to herself. Both of them were stood laughing quietly in the corner of the room, Frank taking her by the arm and turning both their bodies toward the window as some people turned and looked at them.

“Just saying, if this were my engagement party then I’d choose something way more upbeat” Frank replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Like, I don’t know, blue. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of blue, still keeps things classy, I guess, if that’s what you’re about”

Sipping from her wine, Karen nodded. She watched Sarah hugging a woman that walked into the hall, resembling her mother, realising that she hadn’t met her before that day. “That’s what I’m saying. Sarah’s a traditionalist, and David would obviously die for her. White was always the plan. I mean they’re moving in together, it’s a ride or die kinda thing”

“Speaking of,” Frank said, changing the topic immediately. “Delaware is no more. I’m moving to NYC. Got a place just downtown and a job pretty much straight after. The construction unit I work for is transferring some of the crew up town for an opening of a new lot. He wanted me to head the force”

“Really? That’s great news,” Karen replied, ignoring the way her heart danced inside her chest at the thought of him being around more. He just nodded, still looking out onto the hall of people as Karen fixated her eyes on him. She almost stared for a little too long before clearing her throat as he looked at her. A smile. “Good for you”

He nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “It’ll be better than travelling down here for every extravagant event Mr-and-Mrs-Lieberman-to-be throw on” He replied, only causing Karen to laugh once again. “Plus…” he trailed off, eyes on the floor before back at her. “Maybe then we’ll see more of each other”

Karen just took a sip from her wine, swallowing it quietly and shrugging her shoulders innocently. “Maybe we will”

-

Sarah figured it out moments before he walked through the door to their house warming dinner.

“Oh my god,” She said, her whole face lighting up immediately. Karen felt her entire heart sink into deep panic, Sarah practically jumping to the ceiling with supposed joy. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure this out before”

“What?” David asked over his shoulder, preparing a bowl of salad at the kitchen counter. “What’s going on?”

“Sarah,” Karen warned snappishly. “Don’t”

“Karen and Frank, that’s what’s going on” Sarah replied devilishly. Karen watched as she played with the ring on her finger, twisting it in a clockwise motion. “How long have you been pining after him?”

“I have not been pining after him” Karen replied angrily. Her cheeks had flooded red, and she took a deep breath before moving across the tiny kitchen toward the open window. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Sarah. He’s just a friendly face I enjoy the company of at all of your gatherings. He’s just about the only person I know”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Karen felt herself dive further into humility. Sarah practically ran to the door, leaving Karen in the kitchen with David. “Don’t worry,” He said, grabbing the bowl of salad before patting Karen’s shoulder sympathetically. He then picked up his bottle of beer. “I’ll keep her in line”

Karen gave herself a second or two to calm herself, before walking into the dining area where the three of them were already stood. She forced a smile, ignoring Sarah’s devilish glance. Frank smiled back at her, Karen’s eyes scouring his hands as he presented the bottle to her. “Got you a gift”

She snorted. Red wine.

/\

Aside from all the glances from Sarah through the entire meal, Karen made it out alive. She offered to do the dishes, which the two of them were happy about as they picked a movie and settled on the couch almost as soon as she’d offered.

She soaked herself in the soapy water before starting the dishes, taking advantage of the time to wash her hands. Her head was a little woozy due to the three glasses of wine she’d drunk way too quickly.

The door clicked shut behind her and she jumped out of her skin, dropping a plate into the soapy basin. Frank had entered the room behind her and she sighed when she clocked eyes on him, closing her own for a brief second. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” She asked, a frown appearing on her face. “Fine. I’m fine”

“You were really on edge throughout the whole dinner” He replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe on the opposite side of the room. “Did I do something? Or, is it-”

“No” She said softly. “No, it wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything” She found herself looking directly at him, her frown softening at the slight confusion in his eyes. Karen gulped, the silence between the two of them thicker than ever with tension.

“Karen” He said quietly, walking across the kitchen toward her. She backed into the kitchen counter, her hands gripping onto the basin edges, fingers slipping due to the soap. “What is it?”

She paused, before dragging her words out, adding a chortling laugh to completely sell it down the river. Her self respect. “I just had one too many glasses of wine”

Frank laughed, and she was grateful, taking a small sigh of relief. He reached for something on the kitchen counter before speaking. “Listen why don’t I do the dishes and you go watch the movie, you’ll end up hurting yourself otherwise-”

“I am not incompetent” She snapped, unintentionally, grabbing at his arm as he held a dish cloth in his hand. His arm tensed up as she gripped onto his bicep awkwardly. Karen’s heart was doing somersaults inside her chest, her breathing slightly laboured.

“So you’ve mentioned” He replied, a small smirk playing on his face. Karen kept her eyes on him as he subconsciously moved closer toward her. She let go of his arm, not knowing where to place her hand other than let it fall to her side. She felt his hand on the small of her back, her face softening as he leaned toward her lips.

The buzzing of her phone interrupted them instantly. Her humility was beyond a scale anymore, and the alert that appeared on her screen was from a cab company. The one she’d called so she could escape that very situation.

Frank stepped away. Karen swallowed nervously. “My cab. It’s outside”

He nodded, seeming completely un-phased. “Safe journey”

“Thanks” was all she could muster in response before she grabbed her bag and fled the tiny apartment.

-

New Years approached. Karen had made excuses to get out of every social event that Frank would be at since the house warming. Sarah had tried to convince her to go, swearing that he would’ve forgotten, but Karen’s humility still hadn’t died down.

The only reason she’d been talked into New Years was because Frank wasn’t going to be there. Apparently he had something with his work force that he’d planned to go to. It put her a little at ease, but she knew she’d be completely out of place there.

Come midnight, Karen had spent the entire evening alone, speaking with Sarah only in brief moments as she spent most of the night mingling with other people. With her trusty stead, a bottle of red wine, she figured she was gaining a problem. It was something she did at almost any given opportunity, even if she didn’t drink excessively.

She made it a new years resolution to get to the bottom of it.

The other guests behind her began their countdown with one minute to spare. Karen sipped at her wine before looking around the entire room at the different mix of people. Sarah was nowhere in sight and she sighed, sipping once again from the glass.

When it reached thirty, she figured she’d head toward the door and escape before she got cornered by someone and stuck within their happy new years wishes. The back door to the house was open, and the cold air was refreshing as she stepped out into the brief silence. She placed the wine on the wall in front of her, watching the millions of fireworks explode in the sky from other people’s celebrations.

The countdown hit ten. His voice hit her immediately. “Karen”

She turned quickly, and there he stood, out of breath and in a thick jacket. “Frank” she breathed, eyes widening in shock. “I thought you were— what are you doing here?”

“I called your name all through the house” He replied, walking toward her quickly just as the countdown hit 5.

“Why?” She asked quickly, a fearful frown on her face, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

He shook his head, looking toward her lips before back into her eyes. “I couldn’t let you slip away again”

As the countdown reached 0, and the new year began, Frank held her by the waist before laying his lips on hers, Karen’s initial shock taking her a few seconds before she kissed back. People cheered in the distance, more fireworks dancing across the sky as they moved closer together.

Karen’s heart slowed as the spur of the moment passed, their lips still joined together, Frank’s hands on the small of her back, her hands in his dark curls. The sky was lit up like a skyline behind them, the stars twinkling extra brightly in the moment of passion. The madness.

Karen forgot about her red wine. Because her hand finally had someone else’s to hold.