#but at least yesterday they got to laugh and sing

[0ransje]

We may be going extinct but at least we have each other.

[slttygeto]

do you ever just sit back and think of how absolutely pouty gojo can be? most of the time he’s goofy, he teases, he’s playful—but then he slips and acts like his teenager self and pouts over the smallest things.

there’s this game on his phone—a sheep filter on tiktok and he cannot for the love of god get that damn sheep to slide down and between the two bricks. he sighs and tries again, and then again and again—

“oh man! what the fuck—this is- ugh.” he slams his phone down next to you and you grab it with a quirked eyebrow.

“what’s this?”

“a stupid filter—i swear, whoever made it knows that it’s impossible to get it.”

“I think I got.” you show him the screen and his eyes widen in shock when he sees the “you win!” in green. he grabs his phone from you.

“what?! I’ve been trying since yesterday how did you-“

“I’m lucky,” you say in a sing-song voice and you see your boyfriend slump on the couch. his pretty lips pout and you have to hold back a laugh.

“satoruuuu,” you tease him. “are you pouting?”

“leave me alone.”

“wow, didn’t know my boyfriend was a sore loser, a pouty one too.” your finger traces his lips before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“it’s okay, at least you won over something else.” satoru eyes you weirdly.

“which is?”

“my heart.” you grin at him and when he looks away from you, you are shocked at what you notice.

“are you blushing?!”

“I said leave me alone!”

[suiana]

(yandere! fan x gn! idol reader) (cw: murder, stalking, slight nsfw, yandere stuff)

Yoon-Jae likes to think of himself as your biggest fan.

He buys all your albums, attends all your fan-meets, hell, he even buys all your merch! He just wants to support his favourite idol after all.

You deserve it. Really.

He still remembers how you used to be laughed at by the other students for being a nerd.

You, his old high school classmate, the one he's always pined after even when you were a cute geeky nerd that got teased on a daily basis. Those were good times, he thinks. Before your rise to stardom and exposure to the rest of the world. When times were simpler and you were just someone he had a huge crush on because you were so his type. You two didn't even talk to one another but he had already decided that you were his crush. His first and only crush.

Yoon-Jae still finds it hard to believe that time has already passed by just like that. It's been a good couple of years since you two were in the same class, he still can't believe it. Cute, nerdy, and a little bit of a loser. Sure he knows he's popular and attractive, but opposites attract don't they?

He remembers it like yesterday, to when he first decided to act on his growing feelings for you.

It started out with small things. Following you around in public, being your own personal paparazzi. A little click here and there never hurt anyone. Not when you were so beautifully going about doing your things. His breath always hitches whenever he brings his camera up to his shaky blue eyes to snap another picture of you. The perfect you.

It was like you were made for the spotlight. Made for the cameras. I mean, how could you not be? You're perfect. Everything about you is like a blessing from the god's above. Your smiles, your laughter, the way your face would flush a little from laughing too much... Everything about you needed to be framed in a mueseum. Truly a work of art.

Click, Click, Click.

His camera fired away at everything you did. Even the most mundane of things. The tall Korean man estimates he probably had taken about 5000 pictures of you on a day to day basis back when you both were still students. If you ask his present self how many pictures he takes on a daily basis now it would probably be 2 or 3 times more than what he used to take.

In any case, he finds it a little cute how you were completely oblivious to his photo-taking. How you went around your day-to-day life while remaining blissfully unaware of the photos he shot of you.

Then things got a bit worse.

He thought it wasn't enough to just follow you around outside. No, he needed a glimpse into your private life, the one you kept behind closed doors. Yoon-Jae thought it would help him learn more about you.

And it did. It helped him to learn more about your character. About the person that hid behind a pair of thick round glasses and a nervous stutter when around others in class. The person he saw through a rose-eyed lens.

It was as though he got a glimpse into your soul.

So of course he had to continue breaking into your house to see you in your private space. Of course he had to install cameras in your room to observe how you acted when no one else was around. Of course he had to watch you 24/7. Of course he had to.

It was cute seeing you dance and sing around like some famous idol. Your voice was always so soothing that he'd fall asleep while watching you. This was something he never thought the cute little nerd in his class would enjoy doing. But if it makes you happy he'll be more than happy to support it. You were already an idol in his eyes anyway. It's even better if you wanted to act like a real one.

To be honest, he had secretly hoped you'd notice him. He finds it arousing to say the least. To be caught doing such an intimate thing with his beloved muse... It sends his heart racing, sweat rolling down the sides of his pale forehead as his member strains painfully against his sweatpants.

But you never did and he can't tell whether it's a blessing or a curse that you were so oblivious. No matter, the dark haired man can wait. He's always been patient after all. It's something his mom praised him for since he was young.

The more he learned about you, the more Yoon-Jae couldn't help but be a little peeved that you were still being bullied. He couldn't understand why such a sweet thing like yourself would get teased and called names for liking things so passionately. It's cute. So very adoravle. And he absolutely hated it that others would make fun of you for it. He hated it.

So he decided to get rid of them. What is the point of their lives if they couldn't appreciate the perfection that you are? They are the scum of the earth. Vermin who didn't deserve to live.

His usually neat and tidy appearance was a mess by the time he was done getting rid of the first person. He still regrets wear his favourite white shirt to get rid of all these pests. Their filth got all over him after all, blood and tears staining his pristine clothes.

Yoon-Jae remembers his mother horrified expression as she immediately clutched his arms, asking if he was hurt. He had to repeatedly reassure her that he was fine and just doing it for you. Her face immediately relaxed after that.

"You found your other half then? Are they like your father?"

"Mom it's not-"

"You should bring them back soon. I want to meet my son's beloved! I've been waiting for this day for so long!"

The Korean guy was so confused by his mother's words. Love? He never saw what he was doing as love. He thought it was just... doing what he should do. You're perfect so he should devote himself to you. That's how things are, no?

He started questioning himself after that. Did he... love you? Really? I mean, yeah, he did have a crush but it couldn't be love, could it? Love is a really strong word... He thinks he's just giving you the attention and affection you deserve.

In the midst of getting rid of his final victim, he decided to spill his heart out to them.

"I just... I don't know whether I really love them, you know? Like... I'm doing all this but... It's more like, I want them to be safe and protected from all the bad people. And yeah, maybe I wanna get with them too but that's not very important, is it?"

"U-uh..."

His soft black locks stick to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving slightly as he continues talking about his feelings to the half dead person. Maybe they'll give him some enlightenment? I mean, they decided to harm you... They should at least give him some advice, no?

"Hey, what do you think? Since you decided to make fun of them you probably know right?"

"I-I don't know-"

"What was that?"

"I meant you probably love them! P-Please don't kill me!"

And just like that, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain.

He made quick work of the person... Well, at least they were useful in the end. He supposes they're not totally good for nothing.

Yoon-Jae decides to confess to you the next day. He brings in flowers and sprays his special cologne. He's positive that you'll reject him today, but he doesn't care. He'll just continue to confess until you finally give in and love him back. You're bound to fall for him one day or another.

Sadly, his luck completely failed him that day and you weren't anywhere in sight. At all.

He spent the whole day asking about your whereabouts, fretting over your well-being as his minds spirals into a states of paranoia. Were you kidnapped? Did someone hurt you? Sick? Where the hell were you?!

And that's when he heard it. You got scouted by an entertainment company and moved to a school closer to your agency.

An idol. You were going to become an idol.

It was as though his heart had stopped and his whole world was flipped upside down. Oh.

Oh.

The realization that you were actually going to stand on a grand stage with hundreds of thousands of eyes on you finally settled in and his heart couldn't help but swell with pride. His idol, his beloved idol. The one he loved and would protect to death. Yoon-Jae couldn't help but feel satisfied knowing that some person finally realized your potential. Took them long enough, he mumbles while walking back home with the bouquet of flowers.

Was he sad that he couldn't confess to you? Sure, yeah he was. He's not going to deny it or lie. It really fucking hurt when you weren't there to witness his confession. But the fact that you had actually gone to become an idol... That made everything all better.

He'd finally be able to worship and love you like you were meant to be worshipped. An idol. His idol. He'd be able to prattle and gush about you without receiving any weird looks. Everyone else will be doing the same thing anyway. They can't and won't be able to judge him. In fact, they'd be understanding of why he's so obsessive over you. You're perfect, he repeats. Such perfection is worth losing his mind over. He's sure everyone would agree.

He can't help but grin in excitement as he anticipates your debut. A cute concept? A sexy concept? Both? He thinks that you'd suit everything.

When you finally debuted he feels like he could die at that second. You, in all your glory, was standing in the middle of a stage. A soloist. The sole star of the show. He's glad your agency hadn't put you in a group. He'd feel bad for your other members, already knowing that you'd outshine them all. It's not even up for debate.

It's no surprise that Yoon-Jae's the first to buy all your merchandise. The first one to book tickets to all your shows and fan meets. He's in the front row screaming your name with his heart, blue eyes all wide and cheeks flushed as he publicly displays his devotion for you.

You don't notice him at first, but as time goes by and he continues to support you, he's become a familiar face amongst your ever growing crowd. Yoon-Jae. You hadn't realized that the popular guy in your old class had liked your music so earnestly. Maybe it was a safe haven from the horrible deaths back in your old school. You believed your music to be comforting after all.

His slender hands intertwine with yours as he appears at your fan meet for the nth time. He comes bearing more gifts than before, way too excited to chat to you one-on-one again.

"Darling, darling! You look amazing like usual! I bought this expensive cartier necklace for you today. Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"Haha, of course. You're my sweetest fan! Come put it on for me?"

The lines between idol and fan slowly start to blur to him. Yoon-Jae thinks that you truly mean what you say whereas you were just doing what an idol does. Fan-service.

But Yoon-Jae doesn't care about that. Why would he? You're his other half. He even got his mother to watch your content with him. She says she's eager to meet her son's future spouse. His father is a little bit more reserved, always hiding in his room and reading quietly, not wanting to talk to him. Whatever, he'll meet you one on one when the time comes. And you'll be his when the time comes. Though he loves you as an idol, he loves you as his lover more. The tall black haired guy is already counting down the days to when your contract ends.

For now, he'll continue supporting you as your biggest fan. He always will be your biggest fan even after your career too. You're an idol in his eyes through and through and nothing will change that.

Nothing will ever change that.

[goldfades]

sweet on you (dad!joe au) thoughts of the day!

this morning, joe got up with hayes to let you sleep in, and you woke up to the sound of them laughing in the kitchen. when you walked in, joe was holding hayes on his hip, both of them wearing matching pajama sets that you didn’t even know joe had ordered. “look who’s finally awake,” joe teased, like he hadn’t been waiting for you to join them.

hayes keeps calling joe “dada” in this sing-songy voice, and it’s like joe can’t help but melt every time he hears it. today, hayes said it at least ten times in a row just to make joe laugh. “you’ve got my number, kid,” joe finally said, shaking his head with a grin.

joe is so gentle when he handles hayes, even when hayes is being a little menace. like earlier, when hayes decided it was funny to stick blueberries to joe’s shirt while he wasn’t looking. joe just laughed, picked one off, and said, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

joe has this thing where he smooths hayes’ hair down whenever he’s holding him, even if it’s not messy. it’s like he can’t help himself, like he needs to make sure hayes is taken care of every second.

tonight, hayes got overtired and a little fussy, so joe walked him around the living room, humming softly under his breath. you could hear snippets of whatever song joe was making up as he went along, and by the time hayes finally fell asleep, you realized your heart was just as full as it’s ever been.

joe always insists on doing bedtime stories, even on game days when he’s exhausted. tonight, he turned The Very Hungry Caterpillar into a full-blown production, complete with voices for every piece of food. “this apple sounds like a New Yorker,” he said at one point, making hayes giggle so hard he had hiccups.

sometimes, joe gets this look on his face when he’s watching you and hayes—like he’s trying to memorize the moment. it happened earlier when you were playing peek-a-boo, and you swear he looked at you like you hung the moon.

after hayes went to bed, joe found you folding laundry and immediately pulled you into his lap, saying, “this can wait.” he held you there for a while, his hands tracing slow circles on your back, and whispered, “i love this life with you.”

joe has this soft habit of thanking you for the smallest things, like when you made his coffee this morning or set his keys by the door. today, he thanked you for “being my favorite person,” like that’s just something he says now.

he bought you flowers yesterday, and when you asked why, he shrugged and said, “just felt like you deserved them.” this morning, he pointed out how good they looked on the counter, like he was proud of himself for picking the right ones.

tonight, when you were brushing your teeth, joe came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you know,” he said, his voice low and warm, “i don’t think i could love you any more than i already do.”

The house is finally quiet, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Hayes went down after a full day of mischief and laughter, leaving you and Joe completely spent in the best way. You’re lying in bed, your head on Joe’s chest, his hand trailing slow, lazy patterns along your back. His other arm is tucked behind his head, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek.

“Long day,” you murmur, though there’s no real complaint in your voice. It was the kind of long day that fills your heart just as much as it drains your energy.

“Yeah,” Joe agrees softly, his voice still thick from the weight of the day. “But a good one.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and his eyes are already on you, tired but warm. There’s a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, and you reach up to trace it with your fingertips, just to feel the texture. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, holding it there for a moment before resting it against his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “With Hayes, with everything... I don’t know how you do it.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Pretty sure you’re the amazing one. Did you see yourself today? Full-on Broadway performance during bedtime stories. Hayes is gonna think his dad’s an actor instead of a quarterback.”

Joe smiles, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that way that always makes your stomach flip. “Anything for the kid,” he says simply, and you know he means it with every fiber of his being.

You settle back against him, letting the weight of the day melt away in his warmth. “Anything for us,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Always,” he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to your hair. And in the quiet of the night, with the soft rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Dinosaur

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Summary: You make the mistake of helping Joe make a TikTok account.

Warnings: None, pure silliness

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

February 15, 2024

Out of nowhere, Joe plopped down next to me on the couch and put his phone on my lap.

“Can I help you?” - you

“Yes, actually!” - Joe pointed to his phone

I looked down at his phone to see that it was the TikTok log-in or sign-up page that pops up when you first download the app.

“What?” - you

“Can you help me make an account? My dinosaur ass can't figure it out, but I wanna follow you and see the videos you post. Ja’Marr was talking about the videos you posted of me and you for Valentine’s yesterday, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I wanna be able to see your posts.” - Joe

“Why? So you can approve of them?” - you

“No, nothing like that! I like watching the videos you make of us, and I think they're cute. Plus, I rarely ever get to see the finished prank videos. Please help me?” - Joe

I thought his reasoning was adorable, so I happily helped him.

“Do you want it to be an official account or incognito?” - you

“Incognito.” - Joe

Nodding, I handed him his phone so he could type a username in.

I was absentmindedly staring off when I heard Joe giggle.

“What?” - you smiled

He handed me his phone, and I playfully rolled my eyes at the username he typed out.

Simp4Y/N_B

“You're a dork.” - you laughed

“I mean, I am making the account to watch your videos, so it's kinda fitting.” - Joe grinned

After getting the rest of the account setup process completed, Joe made me type my username in the search so he could follow me.

“Wanna follow anyone else? The team you play for, maybe?” - you

“Nope. This is all I wanted.” - Joe

——

You had no idea what a mistake that would be, and you were dealing with the consequences.

It wasn't even the next day yet, and Joe had blown your phone up, mass-liking every video you've ever posted.

Then he found the AI Spongebob singing videos…

“Joseph Lee, send me one more TikTok, and I'm going to block you.” - you

“Watch the last one I sent!” - Joe

“No!” - you

“It's Patrick singing Billie Jean!” - Joe

We were lying in bed, or at least I was, but my phone continuously vibrated on the nightstand, and Joe laughing kept me from sleeping.

“Go to sleep.” - you

Joe rolled over and laid his head on my shoulder, his hand propping up his phone on my chest to show me the video.

Like he hadn't already watched it ten times, Joe couldn't stop laughing.

“I'm gonna shove you off of this bed.” - you

——

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, they did. They damn did.

Joe found Jett and Campbell. (IYKYK)

Now he randomly calls me Pookie as a joke, but with way too serious of an expression for my liking.

He'd gone to pick up my online pickup order from the store for me, and when Joe called me to tell me he had received my order, he greeted me in a way that made me want to hang up.

“Hey, baby.” - you

“Hey, Pookie. I got your order and am almost home.” - Joe

A few seconds of silence went by till I spoke up.

“Call me that again and I'll file for divorce.” - you

“You wouldn't do that, you love me too much... right?” - Joe

“I would never even think of it. I was just kidding, Joey.” - you

“Good because I can't live without you.” - Joe

“Can't live without you either… I love you more than anything.” - you

A few seconds of silence went by before Joe spoke up.

“Love you too… Pookie.” - Joe

“Bye.” - you hung up

——

After threatening divorce, Joe toned it down with the “Pookie” shit, but then he found trends that guys were doing on their girls.

We were in bed one night, cuddling and watching a movie, when out of nowhere, I heard an unmistakable edit audio playing. I looked over at Joe’s phone only to see my face and an annoyed expression on Joe’s.

Joe put his phone down on his chest and scooted away from me.

“Joe…” - you

“Nope, it's okay. Comforting knowing that my wife can recognize songs that are in the background of videos of other men.” - Joe

“You're being silly. I'm huge right now because I'm pregnant with your kid.” - you

“You're not huge… but that still doesn't make up for the fact that you knew that sound.” - Joe

I rolled over onto my side and curled up against Joe. He begrudgingly reached out and ran his fingertips over my bump that was pressing against his side.

“You're crazy if you think I don't have an edit of you saved with the same song in the background.” - you grinned

Joe looked away, suddenly feeling bashful as his cheeks flushed pink, and I lightly scratched his bare arm with my nails.

“You're playin’.” - Joe

“No, I'm not!” - you

I grabbed my phone out and pulled TikTok up, immediately finding my collection titled “Hubby ❤️🤭”, and scrolled till I found the video I wanted.

“Woah, you weren’t joking.” - Joe

“Don't you look hot as fuck?” - you

“I'm just drinking water on the sidelines…” - Joe

“Exactly!” - you

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Authors note: idk what to say 💀

Request in this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[the-s1lly-corner]

Singing songs w/ them in the car (various crps)

I tried cajun shrimp yesterday and omfg it's so good I need to make it again soon but ik itll be a while since my dad isnt a fan of the seasonings

Characters: laughing jack, nina, jeff, ticci toby

Notes: reader is GN, you're both just going on a ride around town, songs are grabbed from my playlist at random so! yeah!

CWs: none

LAUGHING JACK

the randomized playlist has chosen hot to go .... this one is going to be... fun...

doesnt know the lyrics, but hes following along with you trying to guess the words as you sing along with him- he definitely gets the spelling parts right on the mark as soon as hes familiar with it

very loud and very into it, and not at all embarrassed about messing up the words or stumbling over them

he likes the energy the song has- very fast and high energy... he loves music like that

bouncing in his seat, the car kind of shifts and rocks a bit because of it, very large and hes not very.. calm about it... hopefully you guys dont get pulled over..!

NINA

The randomized playlist has chosen psycho teddy, which is so... fitting for her...

it should come as a shock to no one that she knows this song by heart, regardless of what version you have playing- the original, a remix, or an edit... she enjoys any rendition of the song

puts all over her energy into getting the words out and can keep up with the song- including the various other sound effects/noises in the sound

would sing with the window rolled down and tries to encourage you to sing alongside her, thankfully there arent many people out and about tonight- otherwise you might get a few odd looks

and if you do, nina doesnt seem to care at all- youre both having a good time so why should either of you care what others think?

JEFF

The randomized playlist has chosen psychosocial !

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me jeff wouldnt be a slipknot fan- he knows most of their songs, and at least a handful like the back of his hand

that being said... hes not the type to sing out loud to songs... but given the delivery and lyrics of the song, hes definitely getting into it! is it a distraction to your driving? it might be at least a little, to be honest

if youre listening on your own playlist hes going to be very pleased in your taste in music, he generally doesnt make fun of you for your interest save for some teasing but he does have some genuine appreciation of your taste here

leaves him feeling a little more hyped than he was when he got into the car, grinning as the song comes to the close and you just know hes going to try to string you into some shenanigans- the question is what nature of antics will it be... knowing jeff, its not going to be something chill

TICCI TOBY

The randomized playlist has chosen mr blue sky !

honestly hes just happy to sit in the car with you while listening to music, and yes, hes going to belt out the lyrics- will loudly swear if he messes up the lyrics... its been a while..!

he uh... doesnt get to listen to that much music nowadays- you make a mental note to give him a player to keep on him so he has something to fill the silence when hes wandering the woods

definitely tries to pitch up his voice during the "so loong" at 1:50 in the song, his voice cracks but he just leans into it

overall hes having a good time and hes playing himself up simply because you seem to be happy that hes enjoying himself

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

Loving You was Easy. Losing You was Hell. | F.W.

summary: loving fred weasley was as easy as breathing. losing him was hell. she took a year away to piece her heart back together, but she never stopped loving him. what happens when george convincing her to hear his twin out?

word count: 3489

warnings: none??

notes: i was going to write amortentia first but this one flowed a lot better.

masterlist

Loving Fred Weasley was easy. It was as easy as breathing. She fell for him fast and hard during their fifth year. It wasn’t long until they were inseparable. They were trouble together, according to George. She loved to get Fred in on pranking his twin. George secretly loved it, loved that his brother had a girl who was willing to have fun and bend the rules a little. Fred always made her laugh, he always made her feel special. Whether he was sending her a wink from across the potions room or walking her to class, tucked under his arm. He never failed to make her heart flutter in her chest. His warm smile and the mischievous look that was almost always in his eyes. The soft way he looked at her made her heart sing. She could’ve never imagined her life without him by her side. But all good things come crashing down, at least for her. She didn’t want to believe that it was all too good to be true. Losing him was a heartbreak every single day. Seeing him every day seemed to break her heart a little more each day. She never truly understood why it all ended, but it did. George had defended his brother, took the blame, but Fred never attempted to explain or apologise. It was like one night he just decided that he was done with her. Seeing him for the remainder of their seventh year was torture. He just seemed so unaffected, like he didn't care. The two years that they spent together seemed to mean nothing to him, like they didn't exist. It was like she never existed to him, in fact, he blatantly ignored her existence whenever she was near him. She never tried to talk to him, but he made it a point to not look at her or in her general direction. She still remembered the day like it was yesterday. She sat at the Three Broomsticks for hours, waiting for him to show up. She couldn’t say that he had stood her up. It was an unspoken agreement that they met here every Saturday. She only came to Hogsmeade for him. She would study or sit with friends while she waited, but he always came after his plans with George. She had finally left when the sun started to go down, assuming he wasn’t coming. Maybe he had got caught up with George and assumed she would have gone back by now. She made her way back to the school, walking by Fred and George. She kept her gaze forward as she walked by them, trying her best to not react as the twins joked and flirted with the two girls they were hanging out with. That’s when she heard him, “you know, you might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” His compliment was followed by a giggle from one of the girls. She had regrettably casted a glance over her shoulder to look at Fred. That was the moment he saw her. He watched a tear trail down her cheek as she took her wand in her hand, turning her head to look ahead. He began to move towards her, wanting to explain the situation. He was trying to help George get a girl, but he guessed he had taken it too far. He knew he had taken it too far. He should’ve never said what he did. He froze in his tracks as he watched her wand move then her body slowly seemed to shift. He could hardly make out her silhouette as her body blended with the environment. They never talked after that day. She avoided him and he didn’t make an effort to apologise. He soon took to ignoring her all together. 

She was glad to finally be done with Hogwarts, to get out and leave. Get as far away as possible from Fred Weasley. Maybe then she could heal, and she really thought she had. She spent a year piecing herself together as she travelled the world. Until she had to return to London. Until she returned to Diagon Alley for work. It was the last place she thought her line of work would send her. She had denied any requests from Gringotts, but this time she had no say in the contract. The ministry was sending her to work on an artefact kept in one of the vaults there. Then she saw him, Fred Weasley, just walking down the sidewalk and her world came crashing down on her. He looked great, more handsome than she remembered. She guessed a year away would do that. She had changed as well. Her face finally matured, she seemed to hold a certain grace about her as she walked. She had a few scars that couldn’t be healed with any magical remedy. She tried to push Fred out of her mind after that day, and it was working rather well, until she ran into George. She had tried to only be where she needed to be, but today she had decided to act like a mature adult and go about her life which led to her running into the other twin. George, who wouldn't take no for an answer, had convinced her to grab a butterbeer. To be fair, he tried to convince her to grab a pint, but she denied the invitation, telling him she was technically working. He missed her, she had been a big part of his life too and then she just disappeared. No one really knew where she went. She had cut off contact with everyone who had ties to Fred. Their conversation started light. He asked what she had been doing over the past year. She could’ve spent an hour telling him about her travels. She told him about her work in the states and the lovely time she spent outside of Paris. She only briefly mentioned the time she spent in Bulgaria, she hadn’t enjoyed her time there. She was working with a fellow curse-breaker, but she had left that assignment alone. George was surprised to find that she was a curse-breaker now. He knew she was a bright witch, but he never pegged her as the type. “Before you ask, I’m not answering as to why.” She spoke, looking at George with a stern look. That’s when he noticed the small scar on her brow, the same brow as Fred, but he could tell it was newer. The scar was still a fresher shade of pink. George took her stop to that topic as an opportunity to turn the conversation to Fred. "Y'know, he's not doing good. He hasn't ever since..." George trailed off, looking down at the table. "George, I can't. Losing him has been hell. I-." She was cut off by George. "Just hear him out, yeah? One drink? Please." George gave her a soft look. "You just don't ever take no for an answer, do you?" She quipped, shaking her head. "You should know that by now! Tonight? 7? Here?" He gave her a small smile, trying to give her the puppy dog eyes that he always saw his twin give her in the past. "Dear god, fine. One drink, but I can't promise I'll be nice." She mumbled. “Stop with the eyes, they don’t work as well for you.” She gave him a lopsided smile as she slid out of the booth. “I’m leaving if he’s even a minute late.”

She grumbled to herself, walking in. 6:55. She found a table in the corner, ordering two drinks. Either he showed up or she got two drinks to herself. She fidgeted, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. She thought about wearing something nicer, but she ended up just throwing on the first sweater she found and a pair of leggings. She slid her flats off, pulling her legs under her. Her eyes were glued to her glass, not noticing Fred until he slid into the booth across from her. She looked up, a startled look on her features. She really didn't think he would show, well she was hoping he wouldn’t. But there he was, sitting across from her. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. She took the time to look him over. George was right. He didn't look like he was doing so well. His face looked thinner, a faint hint of dark circles under his eyes. Yet she found she still had a huge soft spot for him, still found him to be incredibly handsome. They both spoke at the same time.

"You look like shit."

"You look great."

A small laugh came from her and Fred let out a small chuckle. "I'm sorry." She started before he waved her off. "It's fine, Georgie tells me every day." Her heart squeezed for him, and a part of her hated it. Hated that she still loved him. After over a year without him. "I've missed you." He said softly. She nibbled on her bottom lip, fighting the urge to tell him that she had missed him as well. It would be the truth, but she spent a year picking up the pieces of her heart. "Losing you was hell, Fred Weasley." She whispered, meeting his eyes. "I should've ran after you. I should’ve explained what was going on, I was just trying to help George and I crossed a line that I could never uncross." He reached for her hand across the table. She let him take her hand, her eyes falling to their hands. "Loving you is- was easy, forgiving you was hard, but losing you-." She stopped herself, looking up to him. "I'm sorry, love, please." The look in his eyes killed her. "Let me take you out, yeah? Dinner? Let me make it up to you." He gave her puppy dog eyes, waiting for her to answer. "God, you're as bad as George. One date. And stop with the eyes, it's not fair and you know it."

She found herself fretting over what she would wear. She ended up wearing her favourite casual dress, bringing a jumper with her. She took one last look at herself in the mirror. She messed with her hair, shaking her head at herself. She tried to remind herself that it was just dinner, nothing more. There was no need to be nervous, it was just Fred. She had spent two hours with him at the Three Broomsticks the other night. She also managed to spend an hour with George earlier that same day. She could do this. It had been a little over a week since she last saw him. She had been working on a rather tough case and it was taking a toll on her body. She tried to hide the dark circles and the healing cut on her cheek to the best of her ability. She appirated to the restaurant, seeing Fred standing outside. His face lit up when he saw her walking towards him. She tried to hide her reaction, but he looked good. A white short-sleeve shirt tucked into a dark grey pair of slacks. She noticed a necklace chain tucked under his collar. Her fingers came up to the pendant she was wearing, nervously twisting it. “C’mon, let’s get something to eat.” 

She leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her wine. “What happened there?” Fred asked, pointing to his own cheek. “Oh, uh, work. Things can get out of hand.” She waved off his look of concern. “And what about here?” He pointed at his own scarred eyebrow. “Also work.” She laughed. “Work? What do you even do?!” His voice took an exasperated tone. “I’m a curse-breaker, Fred. I’m surprised George didn’t tell you, honestly thought he would’ve. Or even your father, I’ve seen him around the ministry the few times I was there. We chatted for a bit the last time.” She set her wine glass on the table, her fingers grasping her necklace again. His eyes fell to the pendant before her fingers covered it. “You still wear that old thing?” He asked, watching her twirl the small orange gemstone between her fingers. “It’s my good luck charm. I never take it off.” She whispered. Fred’s lips formed a small smile. “And what about you? What necklace is hiding under your shirt?” She asked, hoping to change the subject from their past and the annoying fact that she still wore his christmas gift from three years ago. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really.” He untucked his necklace from under his shirt. She almost reached out for it, but grabbed her wine glass instead. “So, you still wear that old thing, huh?” She raised a brow as she sipped her wine. “Never take it off.” He answered, holding her gaze. 

The tension seemed to melt away when she sipped from her second glass of wine. “What made you decide on curse breaking?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, and she felt every last thought left her brain. “Well, I just needed to get away. As far away as possible.” She offered a small shrug, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to see the realisation or hurt flash in his eyes. She bit her lip, glancing up at him. She held her hand up as he opened his mouth, shaking her head. She let out a sigh, picking up her wine glass. “I might regret this, but do you want to do something probably stupid?” She asked, hiding her smile as his face lit up. “What did you have in mind?” She drank the rest of her wine, giving him a mischievous smile. “Just some reminiscing.”

Fred hushed her as she giggled, creeping up the stairs to his flat. “Sorry, it’s just funny.” She whispered. “Do you think he’s actually sleeping?” She asked when they reached the top of the stairs. “Oh god, what if we accidentally burn the place down?” He chuckled, shushing her again. “Yes, I’m positive he’s asleep. Now c’mon.” He held a hand out to her. She looked at his hand from her arms that were full of fireworks. “Right.” He laughed, shaking his head. She shoved the fireworks into Fred’s hands when they reached George’s door. She put her finger to her lips before pulling out her wand. He watched her as she casted the disillusionment charm on him. He shuddered at the feeling. It felt like an egg breaking over his skin where he wand tapped his shoulder. She then cast the charm on herself. His heart panged slightly when she did, but her skill always gave him a sense of awe. “You know, your skill for this has always impressed me. I see you’ve gotten much better at it.” He whispered. She was completely invisible under the charm. He nearly jumped when he felt her hand touch him. “That’s freaky.” He whispered, a small chuckle coming from him. He heard her make a shushing noise. Fred slowly pushed George’s door open, stepping in. She kept stepping on the back of his shoes as she stumbled behind him. They worked quietly, setting up the fireworks around the room. He pulled out his wand, lighting the fuses of the fireworks. Her hand found his and he pulled her out of the room, shutting the door just in time. The fireworks crackled to life, followed by George yelling. “Merlin, fuck. FRED!” George screamed. She burst out laughing when George ran out of his room. George looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. They snuck back down the stairs and out of the flat. She tapped him with her wand first, then removed the charm from herself. “Do you remember when we-” She paused, laughing. “-When we transfigured George’s broom into a snake during sixth year?” She asked, pushing her hair out of her face. His heart stuttered at the smile that graced her lips. “You mean when you made me distract George before quidditch practice and you transfigured the broom he was holding into a snake?” He asked, making her laugh harder as she remembered the look on both of their faces. She hadn’t told Fred her whole plan, just that she wanted to prank his twin. “You know, you were trouble.” He laughed, nudging her shoulder. “You still are.” She gasped, turning to look at him. “I am not!” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am fun!” She smiled, batting her eyelashes at him. He shook his head at her. “I’ll give you that. That was fun, I haven't pranked George in ages.” Fred slung his arm over her shoulder. “Do you want to do something else that is probably stupid?” He asked her, squeezing her to his side. “Only if you can top my idea.” She gently bumped her elbow into his side. “It might.” 

“Okay, next time warn me before you do that!” She gasped, pushing him. Fred laughed at her, shrugging his shoulders. She moved away from him, taking in their surroundings. A small smile formed on her lips. “I saw you here about six months ago.” His voice was quiet as he walked next to her. She took in the lights of the small city outside of Paris. “You know it’s dangerous to travel long distances like this.” She answered, turning to him. “Says the one who risks her life breaking curses.” He gave her a knowing look, causing her to narrow her eyes. “What were you doing here anyway?” She asked, ignoring his comment. “Visiting Bill and Fleur. I was coming down to the cafe when I saw you.” He pointed to the bank that she was all too familiar with. “Took everything I had not to run over to you when I saw you. You looked like hell, must’ve been the day you got this.” His fingers brushed over her brow, then into her hair. That’s when he saw the scar running along her scalp. She averted her gaze to the necklace adorning his neck. She reached up, taking the small, round gold pendant in her hand. A lion head adorned the front, she flipped the charm over. ‘My lion’ was scrawled across the back in her handwriting. “Can I change this?” She asked, cringing at the cliche she thought was cute at 16. “Absolutely not.” He laughed, “and stop changing the topic.” She let out a small huff, looking up to meet his eyes. “I never stopped loving you.” She whispered, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “You know, George came to talk to me after that day. But you never did. If you would’ve, things would be different. But this is my life now, Fred. And I love it. I really do. It can be dangerous, but I’ve seen the world. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things, too. I saw a couple get engaged right over there one night.” She pointed to the small bistro that was now closed for the night. “I’ve seen how kind people can be in the worst situations. Hell, I’ve even seen goblins help a wizard down in the vaults after…” She trailed off as she turned her attention back to Fred. “It’s not forever, but it is my now.” She whispered, meeting his eyes. 

“How long will it be your now?” He asked softly. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Fred. I don’t have a reason to do anything else and I worked hard for this. I earned seven different NEWTs to get this job.” She explained, pressing her hand to his chest. He grabbed her hand when she pulled it from his chest and held it there. “You look like you’re going to do something stupid, Fred Weasley.” She whispered, her eyes glancing at his lips. He gave her a small smile. “Probably.” He whispered, slowly leaning in. Her eyes fluttered shut when his nose brushed against hers. His lips gently met hers. She moved her lips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. His hands came to her waist, grasping the fabric of her dress. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I never stopped loving you either.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug. 

“Bloody hell!” She shouted, ripping herself out of his arms. “A warning, Fred! Why is that so hard?!” She slapped his chest. “I’m sorry.” He laughed, pulling her back into him. “It’s just so funny.” She groaned, wrapping her arms around him. George flung the door open, startling them. She peeked around Fred to see George glaring at the both of them. “Have a good night? Some fireworks go off between you two?” He asked. She burst into laughter, leaning against Fred’s back. “I’m regretting making her talk to you. I forgot how much trouble you two were.” He grumbled.

[mariabtsos]

I'll Be There ||k.sj||

Description: your family may have forgotten your birthday, but goddammit Jin refuses to let it ruin your day.

Genre: Short drabble, idol!Jin x f!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, found family, fluff.

Warnings: feeling of being an afterthought, feeling of being forgotten

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: It was my birthday yesterday :)

There was absolutely no way right? I mean they'd been talking to you all day, they even called you yesterday and talked about how your birthday was today.

You should've known, the first red flag should've been that your own sisters forgot your birthday and how old you were turning. This had never really happened to you before, they had always been so good about your birthday just like you always were about theirs, so why was this year different? You had moved to Korea a long time ago, over 10 years ago actually, and even your extended family back home had messaged you and made sure you felt loved today of all days. At least, even if the worst were to happen, you still had Jin.

You'd met Jin, ironically, on the same bus he'd been scouted out for BigHit's audition, and you'd been together ever since. Your relationship had had its fair share of obstacles, trials and tribulations, but you were happy together, and he made sure that you were. When Jin enlisted, just like he had with ARMY, he'd prepared little videos and notes for you to open during the times you couldn't see each other. Those typical letters that said open when you're sad, open when you miss me, and so on.

When he came back he made damn sure that you were the first person he'd spend his time off with after he was done with all his schedules, because Jin was a workaholic, even if he'd never admit it, and he couldn't stand being out first and not seeing his fans right away. You had front row seats to his event, letting the hug be just for ARMY as you knew they'd missed him, and after it was all done, you came home to your shared apartment and shared beautiful moments together whilst he was off.

Today, he'd planned an entire day for you, which basically consisted of mostly chilling together like you both loved doing, taking you out to your favorite restaurant and then singing happy birthday along with your family, even if it was over FaceTime since they'd moved away from Seoul to Busan few years back when your parents got better jobs.

“Alright mom, I'll talk to you guys when we get back!” You said enthusiastically toward your phone as you spoke to the older woman, Jin had a smile on his face as you walked toward him after hanging up.

“Ready my love?” He asked as he grabbed onto your waist and you placed your hands on his chest.

“Yes,” you gave him a quick peck and a smile.

Jin had arranged for Yoongi to drop off the cake he'd had made for you whilst you were out. He took you to a small hole in the wall restaurant you guys had found after you'd moved to this part of Seoul, the food was great and you always loved how they gave you the perfect fries to burger ratio.

“Have I done good so far, my love?” He asked after he pulled a chair out for you to sit.

“You've done great Jinnie, you always have,” you smiled softly.

“I promise next year when everything isn't crazy and full of comebacks we'll go to your parents' for your birthday,” he reached for your hand on top of the table, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, “or we can fly them out here!” He suggested.

You hoped Jin understood how much everything he did for you today, and everyday, meant to you; he'd always had that knack for making you feel loved in the most thoughtful ways, even in the most silly ways too! Just like his dad jokes he had the cheesiest pick up lines, and they always cheered you up when you were having a bad day. You remembered a few years back, when you were giving yourself a really hard time at work and you came home upset, he'd said all kinds of ridiculous things in every language you both knew. It was safe to say, you were laughing hysterically after some time.

This time, however, Jin worried that might not be enough. When you came home for dinner you were so happy to see your favorite cake waiting for you on the kitchen island along with two cards, one from Jin and one from the rest of the guys, which had all but adopted you into their little family soon after Jin introduced you to them all those years ago, it was very touching to see it and to read it.

“I'm going to call my mom so they can sing happy birthday with us!” You said excitedly as you pulled out your phone. This had been a tradition ever since they'd moved away from Seoul, because had you been back home they would've thrown you a little party…at least you hoped so. Ever since they'd moved away you'd felt a little alienated, you were often the last to know about things that you wouldn't usually be, all shielded by the excuse ‘if you called more.’

Jin got the candles for your cake ready when the first call didn't go through, you made a joke out of it at first, giving the call another try. He tried lighting the candles when you stopped him “we have to wait until they answer,” your smile was slowly fading by then. You texted your mom and then tried FaceTiming her again, and she didn't answer, you felt your heart shatter and little.

“It's okay, they might have to work tomorrow, plus we've been talking all day and all,” you chuckled, “we'll record it for them! That way they won't feel left out,” it was less of a suggestion and more of a thing you immediately got ready for, pulling out your phone in front of the cake and getting the camera angle just right.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked, looking at you with the softest, most loving look. You didn't speak simply nodding as you hit record and he lit the candles.

“1, 2, 3…” you started clapping, singing the typical birthday song for your home country, you had been fine at first, singing happily and then your voice started breaking, you tried clearing your throat to continue but Jin didn't miss this.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, but you just kept singing, your voice broke again until it was barely a whisper so he paused the recording.

“What's wrong? We can stop if you want love, we don't have to-” he tried holding your face but you put your hands up taking a few deep breaths.

“We have to finish, I'm fine,” you said, your voice thick with the lump in your throat.

You were heartbroken, but you wouldn't be able to send this to them if you broke down on video. You were so confused, you had talked all day, and every year, even if you had talked all day, no matter if it was 5pm or 9pm they'd be there to sing happy birthday before, why was it so different now? Did you do something wrong? You thought all your issues and disagreements have been talked out enough, was it not enough for them? You remembered how earlier your dad had called you, how he said he'd been crying because he missed you and he wished he was with you. Your relationship hadn't always been the best but you thought it was better now, you thought you had gotten over your issues.

These were all thoughts that ran through your mind as you finished the song, going on to sing happy birthday in your native language and Korean, Jin hated seeing you so heartbroken, he hated the tears that came down your face. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind as he finished the song for you, since your voice was again barely above a whisper. The number candles had melted apart as you blew on them, the tears now escaping without you being able to stop.

Jin hated this, this was meant to be your day, you were supposed feel loved and happy and excited, hell, all of them had been back and were working on their newest comeback and he managed to plan a sweet day, the guys had all texted or called you, but your parents couldn't bother to answer your call for a simple birthday call?

“Why don't you try texting your dad hmm?” He tried suggesting as he pulled you in for a hug. “No, they're probably asleep it's fine,” you argued as you picked out the pieces of candles that had fallen apart.

“I'll call them then!” he retorded.

“No! It's fine, can we just sit on the couch and cuddle please?” You pleaded as you moved to the living room, he followed close behind, as he saw you start to break down again. He sighed, and sat next to you, pulling you into his chest as you cried, holding onto his shirt tightly. He hated this for you, especially today, he'd ve damned if he let your day be ruined by this. After you'd stopped crying he stepped aside and texted his group chat with his members:

911, I need you all at my place yesterday, no ifs ands or buts.

It took less than 30 minutes for them to get there, all in comfy clothes as if they had been about to go to bed, “hyung what's wrong?” Jungkook asked first yawning and stretching as Jin led them into the apartment.

“Yn’s parents didn't answer her call for them to sing happy birthday,” he spoke quietly and sighed, hearing your sniffles coming from the living room. His dongsaengs looked confused at first, before remembering all the days after your birthday where he vowed to learn your home country's birthday song for you one day.

“Are you serious?” Jimin whisper-yelled. It was followed by a chorus of how could they do that and is Yn noona okay?

He simply walked over to you, now they were all much more awake. “My love? The guys are here! I was thinking we could all eat cake together, hmm?” He sat next to you, caressing your head. You looked up and saw all of them, various levels of concern and sadness in their eyes. You felt your eyes water again as you stood up, pulling Jin up with as you pulled the rest of them in for a hug.

“Oh, Ynie,” Yoongi spoke, “we're all here for you! We're your family too!”

“Yeah, you always have us and Jin hyung for support,” Taehyung said next, you felt his hand patting the top of your head and you chuckled weakly.

You pulled away, seeing them all there and smiled, happy that you had them, that you had Jin and that you weren't as alone as you felt. “Thank you guys,” you sniffled, “do you want some cake?” You asked with a smile and immediately all six ran to your kitchen, a mix of reactions, most noticeable being Namjoon's and Hobi's as they agreed that they should cut the biggest piece for you. You were happy to know that even if you felt as an after thought for others, you'd never be an after thought for them, and especially not for Jin.

You turned back to Jin, who immediately cupped your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “Thank you for today love,” you smiled softly, holding onto the sides of his shirt, “I'm sorry for being an cry baby.”

“Hey!” He got closer to you, “you are not a cry baby, you deserve only the best for your birthday and everyday of our lives, and I will make sure you get it no matter what,” he assured you. You simply nodded and got on your tippy toes to kiss him, it was chaste and sweet, not lasting too long since Jungkook was calling for you to come get your piece.

As you walked off, Jin received an email notification, letting him know that the most important birthday gift he'd been planning for you was ready, the ring you'd designed yourself.

And he couldn't wait to put it on your finger soon.

[blueicequeen19]

Charter ch. 3

Warnings: banter, toxicity, oral, protected sex, dirty talk, age gap, talk of drug use & addiction

Why did I always fucking do this? Why did I always get involved with the girls with the big fucking mouths? Sure she had a heart of gold and a laugh that had me dying to hear it at any moment and her body.. fuck. Plus she’s my employee and five years fucking younger than me.

I remember how stupid I was at her age. How I got someone pregnant from a one night stand. How she led me to believe it wasn’t mine even after the baby came out looking just fucking like me.

My gut churned at the thought of the worst nine months of my life. The not knowing. How I let her mother use me for money over and over again only to find out that she was doing drugs. It took months in the NICU on the mainland before Summer got to come home and another year to prove that her mother was unfit. Court systems tend to do everything they can to keep children with their mothers even with plenty of evidence against them.

How was I supposed to let someone else into Summer’s life when her own mother failed her? I refused to let it happen again. That’s why I didn’t date. That’s why my father didn’t know her. I knew a thing or two about absent parents and I wasn’t about to let it hurt my daughter the way it had me. She deserved happiness and that was all I was going to give her.

The Charter is closed on Sundays and Mondays so that gave me two full days with my girl. Those are always my favorite days. We spend it at the beach, at the Chateau, at the Wreck, and wherever else we can get into. All while singing every Disney song she’s ever heard.

When Tuesday rolled around, I was anxious. I wanted to see Y/N again but I couldn’t let it be known that there was anything between us to anyone else. People will take anything and run with it and I didn’t need Summer’s mother finding any ammunition against me. But seeing Y/N bent over at the counter, flipping through our supply magazine had me stiffening in my shorts. I wanted to take her right then and there.

Her eyes darted up at the sound of the bell from the door being opened but she quickly glanced away when she realized it was just me. I did a quick scan of the shelves to make sure no one else was in the store before stopping in front of her. She didn’t look up as she flipped the page.

“Do I pay you to read on the clock?”

“Yep. And you fuck me on it too.”

She didn’t look up at me and I was glad because I had to wipe the stupid grin off my face. I hated how hot she was when she was mad.

“Would you rather me make you clock out?”

“For thirty seconds? It wouldn’t be worth it.” She didn’t miss a fucking beat and I didn’t bother to stifle my laughter.

“It’s at least forty-five seconds.”

Silence.

Fine.

“Truck came today.” I change the subject to work and she nods.

“Yep and I put 90% of it away already. The rest is too heavy for me to put on the racks.” Which was fine. I did that part anyway.

“Have we been busy?”

“Check the register.”

“Y/N.”

“JJ.”

I sighed, pulling out my phone and going to my pictures. I turned my phone to face her, letting her see the picture I’d taken of Summer and I yesterday. Her blonde curls hung around her face in a happy smile, looking every bit my twin. She was in her pink princess dress and I was in my pink shirt. Her favorite shirt that I had to wear so we matched. Y/N’s eyes darted to my phone and she couldn’t fight off her beaming smile. Seconds passed before she straightened and took my phone. I let her flip through the pictures, mostly all Summer and me.

“She looks just like you.” Y/N cooed, pinching her fingers as she zoomed in. I wasn’t sure how far back she’d gotten in the albums but I could probably guess when her face fell.

“She was so tiny.” She whispered, no doubt looking at the picture of Summer in the NICU hooked up to wires and machines.

“She was nine weeks early.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding out my hand for my phone back. Her glassy eyes met mine and I knew she was fighting back tears as she handed me my phone back.

“What’s her name?”

“Summer Rain Maybank.”

The shop bell went off and the conversation ended. Back to work we went.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off her tonight. Usually she was the one always watching me. My blood always ran hotter knowing she couldn’t take her eyes off me. Why did she think I wore these cutoffs everyday? I liked that she was constantly checking out my body and I wanted her to. Now she could hardly stand to glance in my direction. If this was a game of hard to get, she was fucking winning.

“I brought extra shrimp and grits if you want some.” I called around break time and she just waved me off.

“You can go ahead and head out if you want. I can close up.” I offered, thinking maybe she’d want to get home an hour or two earlier but she just shrugged and continued stocking shelves.

“How’s your dog?” I asked at one point and she grumbled a “fine” in response. I’d just about fucking had it when the sun was setting and we were going through our closing routine. I not so gently put the cash drawer down and stalked towards her as she made her way to the work bench. She didn’t see me coming, wasn’t even paying attention, until I fisted her shirt and yanked her against me. Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before they narrowed to a glare.

“Out with it. You want me to apologize? Fine. I’m sorry. You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk to show you how sorry I am? Fine. But you will acknowledge me. You will look at me. You will say more than two words to me.” I bit out, my body shaking with something I didn’t quite recognize. My cock was so hard I could hardly breathe as those defiant eyes stared back up at me. She pressed her tits against my chest, her fingers hooking in my belt loops as she leaned in, her breath hitting my mouth.

“Or. What.”

I tore her shirt down the middle making her gasp in surprise before shoving her back against the work bench and ducking my head to suck her pierced nipple in my mouth.

“Oh god.” She moaned, yanking on my hair as she bowed over the work bench. I grabbed her ass with both hands after ripping her bra off next and throwing it behind me, her nipples at my mercy. When she was trembling and crying out, I pulled away and flipped her so she was face down on the work bench. I slapped her ass hard before yanking her shorts and panties down.

“You fucking caveman.” She bit out, arching her ass out for me anyway as I kneeled behind her.

“It’s your fault.” I snapped before burying my face in her dripping pussy. She cried out, lifting one leg up onto the work bench to give me better access. I licked and sucked like my life depended on it. She was moaning like crazy and trembling, her hand reached back to fist my hair. When I plunged my tongue deep inside her she all but screamed as she came on my tongue. I didn’t stop until she was whimpering and as I rose to my feet, she spun around and pushed me to sit at the desk chair.

I nearly came right there just from the pure hunger in her eyes as she tore open my shorts and freed my cock. I dug a condom from my pocket and she ripped it open with her teeth before rolling it on.

“I’m still mad at you.” She bit out, straddling my waist and positioning me at her entrance.

“That doesn’t go away.” I start to smirk but she sinks down on my cock and I throw my head back with a groan, her hands fisting my shirt as she starts to ride me.

My hands find her hips as I thrust up into her, hitting so deep our eyes nearly cross.

“God, it’s too deep.” She whines breathlessly, her lashes fluttering with every bounce of her hips.

“I can get deeper.” I taunt, lifting her in my arms and putting her back on the desk. Her legs find my shoulders then I’m fucking her like my life depends on it. My hips keep hitting the desk but I’m too fucking close to care. Her cries pierce my ears as she grips her own tits, pinching the piercing nipples as I tighten my grip on her waist. I move one hand to her stomach and push down, her entire body tightening as she bows off the desk with a choked scream.

I came right along with her, filling up the condom until I’m wrung dry and panting. I have to carefully pull out so she doesn’t rip the condom off inside her with the way she’s still clamped down. I can’t take my eyes off the way her body is shuddering as she comes down. Her flushed body and her raspy breathing. Her hard nipples begging for my mouth again. This girl was going to get me in trouble.

“I need more.” She whispers, finally opening her eyes to look at me. I smirk after throwing away the condom and fixing my shorts. I run my hands up her thighs and she shakes harder, her eyes pleading.

“Greedy.” My fingers glide over her glistening swollen clit making her jerk and whimper with need.

“That’s what happens when you piss me off. I need a way to release that pent up aggression.” She breathes, her hips bucking with every feather like touch to her clit.

“So I take it you don’t want me to be gentle when I finger fuck you?” My voice is lower and hungry as I tease her entrance with my finger. She growls in warning.

“No. Never.” She breathes, palming her gorgeous tits again.

“You don’t want me to ease in slowly as I fill you?” I murmur as I do just that, sliding two fingers inside her desperate cunt and she moans low and long.

“No.” She pants. I smirk as I start to pump my fingers slowly, too slowly for my own liking. I curl my fingers to find her G-spot and her eyes pop open, her hand reaching for me.

“Oh god.”

“You don’t like when I do that?” She only whimpers. I chuckle darkly as I give her what she wants. We don’t leave until she’s dripping on the floor and I’ve fucked her again.

We walk out together as usual, only she’s wearing a shirt from the shop instead of her own, a small smile on her face as she twirls her keys around her fingers. It’s not until we’re half way across the street that I stop dead in my tracks as I take in who’s leaning against my truck.

“How’s my daughter, JJ?” She calls, my good mood instantly fucking gone.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 9 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your call with Jesse is dramatic on his part to say the least but looks like there's a new guy in town and he's got his sights set on you. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k~ Warnings: Explicit and suggestive language but barely lmao a/n: Sorry this one is a little shorter guys but I figured this was a good stopping point so I hope you enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited as always lol Start from the beginning

"Hello?" I say, my voice ridden with exhaustion since I was woken up out of a sound sleep from my phone ringing on full blast. 

"Hello? That's all you have to say to me? Girl I've been texting you since last night and you never responded" Jesse scolds through the phone and when I look at my messages I have over 50 from him alone. 

"I'm sorry Jess I was busy with Jungkook all day yesterday and I just ended up taking a shower and going to sleep. I guess I forgot to tell you how it went" I apologize, rubbing the sleep from my eye. "Tell me everything I don't care if you're all over the place I just need to live vicariously though you" he says, his excitement palpable even though the phone.

"Well we went to the modiste and found my dress an-" "No no I don't care about the boring stuff. Tell me about what happened between you and Jungkook. Did you guys share glances? Did he touch you? Did he hold your hand? You know the juicy stuff. Well, I guess as juicy as you could get with an etiquette teacher" he spouts off, trying to keep me on track.

"I thought you said you wanted to live vicariously through me? So I was taking you through my day step by step" I say, smiling at his impatience. "I meant the good stuff" he groans and I laugh at his playful frustration before having mercy on him and telling him everything.

"I found out that we like the same music and like similar foods and that he really is a nice guy. Under all of that commanding and strict nature he truly is a great guy" I admit, morning thoughts now full of him giving me a fuzzy feeling in my chest.

"You're falling for him aren't you?" Jesse asks, amused once he hears how I've changed my toon so quickly from one day to the next. "I wouldn't say I'm falling for him but there are some, stirrings" I say, confused and still half asleep, not being able to fully express my emotions properly. 

"Stirrings?" Jesse laughs, knowing what I'm meaning to say without actually having to say it but still pushing me to say more "Yes stirrings and let's leave it at that for now" I say, sitting up and stretching before getting out of bed. 

"Whatever you say" he sings leaving me rolling my eyes as walk to the bathroom and start to pull out the various things I need to get ready. "He also kinda sorta kissed me" I mumble and immediately pull my phone away from my ear, knowing how loud he's going to get about me hiding this from him for so long. 

"HE KISSED YOU? LIKE FOR REAL THIS TIME?" he asks, repeating his reaction from last time but needing to clarify right away since things have been interesting between us to say the least. 

"Well it wasn't full on but it was more than last time" I smirk, knowing that Jesse's way more excited about this than I am. "What's that supposed to mean" he asks quickly, dying to know since this is probably the most important piece of the puzzle he had been waiting for.

"Well I walked him out to his car after he dropped me off to say goodbye, and well he..." "Y/n I swear if you don't just spit it out I'm going to come over there and strangle it out of you" he growls and I laugh, always loving the feeling of torturing him. 

"Alright alright. So when I walked him out he said goodnight to me but when he said it, he said it against my lips. Like he brushed his lips against mine and just left me there and drove off like nothing happened" I say and the silence on the other side of the phone worries me. 

"Jesse?" I ask and then I hear what sounds like him punching his pillow or something. "Jesse are you alright?" I laugh and soon he takes in a deep breath and yell out "HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIVING MY DREAM?!?!?!" and I bust out laughing while he scolds me on the other end of the phone. 

"What are you doing?!?!?! You're literally wasting precious time that you could be using to let him fuck your brains out all because he just likes playing games with you. He wants you so bad so just go for it! If not for your own sake then for mine" he whines and I just continue to laugh, trying not to take him seriously because if I do I don't know if I'll be able to act like I don't want him too. 

"When's the ball?" Jesse asks after I had been tuning him out for a second or two. "Next Saturday" I answer and he hums, thinking about if he can squeeze me in for something or other. "Why?" I ask, his silence peaking my interest. 

"Well I wanted to see if you'd let me come and help you get ready for the ball? You know, hair, makeup, nails the whole nine yards" he says and I groan thinking about all of that stuff thrown together in one day. 

"My guess is that my mom is gonna either have someone come over to get me ready or that she'll send me to some sort of shop. If you want you could come with? Maybe get a manicure to while we're at it?" I offer and I can just tell how excited he is about it already.

"Yes yes a thousand times yes! I swear every time I've asked you to do anything that is remotely girly you've always said no so there's no way I'm passing up on this one!" he says and I can't help but smile. "Well I'm glad that I'll have someone by my side to help me endure this torture" I groan and he brushes me off, my claims sounding absolutely ridiculous to him. 

"Anyways I've gotta get ready for class so I'll see you then alright?" I say, checking the clock, thankfully seeing that I have more than enough time to do so. "Alright well hurry up so we can grab some coffee or something beforehand because I'm exhausted" I scoff at his words, since he was the one that woke me up two hours before my alarm was supposed to go off. 

"Why the hell would you be tired? You're the one that woke me up!" and he scoffs right back at me. "I was getting impatient alright! And rightfully so! How could you not tell me he kissed you?" he whines and I know this is my cue to wrap up the call. 

"He didn't kiss me alright. If he does you'll be the first to know, I promise. Unless someone sees of course" I say and he sighs dramatically, impatient with how slowly this whole thing is playing out. 

"Yeah yeah whatever, I'll see you soon. Should I just grab you something and meet you at our table?" he asks and I hum before responding. "Please and thank you" I say, dragging out the last word and soon end the call.

Classes go off without a hitch with Jesse bugging me every other second about Jungkook so I guess it was a pretty normal day to say the least. "Tell me if anything happens at your lessons today alright? No more late updates! I'm honestly still mad at you" he groans before picking up his stuff to go. 

"Yeah yeah whatever. See you later loser" I say, rolling my eyes and he rolls his right back at me even more dramatically. "Bye bitch" he says over his shoulder, giving me one last wave before walking to his last class while I make my way to mine. 

Walking into class I'm greeted by the murmurings of almost all the girls in class all aimed at one guy in particular that I'd never seen before. Granted I don't really pay attention to anyone in this class besides the professor anyways but seeing that there's a big enough reaction, my interest can't help but be peaked. 

As I make my way over to my usual spot in the lecture hall I begin to notice that he's sat right across the aisle from me.

I try to keep to myself and quietly go to my seat and pray he doesn't notice me because the last thing I need is a some guy trying to distract me in class. 

Don't get me wrong I'm not saying that I don't like helping people but, no actually I guess I really don't like helping people now that I think about it. That's besides the point though. All I need to worry about is getting through this lecture and getting out of here so I can make it to my lessons on time with Jungkook. 

As the professor finally makes his way into the classroom and starts to set up I hear someone trying to get my attention. 

"Psst" I hear and know exactly who it is, making me cringe but deciding to acknowledge him nonetheless. I look up at him and realize why those girls had been whispering about him since he, putting it as plainly as I can, is a very attractive human being. 

"What?" I respond and he grants me a smile that would make any other girl swoon, I however am not that girl. 

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?" he asks, giving me the lamest excuse in the book to get a girl's attention. I summon all the strength I have in my body to resist rolling my eyes and decide to just reach into my bag and grab him one, hoping to be done with this conversation as soon as possible so I can focus on the lecture. 

I hand him the pencil and feel him purposefully brush his hand against mine and I pull my hand back, making him drop it and gaining the attention of the professor. 

"Is there a problem Mr. Foster?" the professor says to the freeloader next to me. "No sir, no problem at all" he says smoothly, trying to charm is way out of the scolding. "See that there isn't" the professor says, raising an eyebrow at him while the boy apologizes making the lecture resume after that. 

~~~~

"Hey" the guy calls out after me as I make my way out of the classroom. I stop and look at him, only planning on giving him seconds to say his piece before leaving, knowing that I'll get an earful from Jungkook if I'm late again. I raise a brow at him as he smiles down at me and doesn't make moves to say anything first. 

"Can I help you?" I say, finally breaking the ice and wanting to get to the point. "Actually you already did. I just wanted to give you your pencil back" he says holding it out to me with a bright smile. "Keep it" I say and turn my back to go and unfortunately he follow after me.

"What's your name?" he asks after squeezing through the students in the halls so he can walk next to me. "None of your business" I grumble and try to walk faster but he follows all the same. 

"That's a curious name" he chuckles, refusing to take the hint to the fact that I don't want to talk to him. "Can't you just leave me alone?" I question, stopping in my tracks, trying my hand at this method rather than just trying to outrun him which seems futile at this point based off of how long his legs are compared to mine. 

"I just wanted to thank my savior since I would've fallen even further behind in class if I wasn't able to take any notes today" he says and I cross my arms, knowing for a fact that half the time he was just looking at me since I could feel his eyes on me every time he looked my way.

"The best way to thank me is to leave me alone. I've got things to do and I don't have time to waste on you Foster" I say, using his last name since that's all I know so far. "It's Daniel" he chuckles at my effort to push him off (figuratively of course, thankfully he has manners enough to maintain personal space).

"I prefer Foster" I say sarcastically and he laughs as if I've said the funniest thing in the world. "Foster it is then" he agrees and I groan, walking off to my car and luckily this time he doesn't follow me, watching me from where we had been standing until I'm out of his sight. 

'Just when I thought my day was going well I've some how created a tail. Why me? Why not all the other girls in class that were obviously fawning all over him?' I shake my head and open my car door, slumping down into it and take a deep breath before putting on my seatbelt and putting my keys in the ignition. 

Hopefully I'll be able to get rid of this sour mood by the time I see Jungkook otherwise our lessons aren't gonna be the prettiest today and we don't have time for anything but pretty. Time is running out and I need to remain focused if I want to do this and do it right. 

I want to leave a good impression on everyone for James' sake, but more than anything I want to make Jungkook proud of me...   

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[demigodsanswer]

I love your writing soooooo much !!! I just NEED to read more about that modern royalty AU you posted yesterday

started sweet and flirty. got smutty. so it goes. touches of d/s dynamics, but pretty much all in vague terms. smut stars under the ~*~

part one here

~

Percy made her tapas. Annabeth was pretty sure that was the Spanish equivalent of her taking him to the Ikea food court.

Knowing Percy, he'd probably really enjoy that date, actually.

Either way, they were delicious. He spread them out on the coffee table in his private room, and they ate on the couch like Roman emperors. Annabeth appreciated the choice; it gave her a better opportunity to show off her legs, and Percy seemed more than willing to look.

He'd brought a bottle of Spanish wine, but neither of them had reached for it. She wanted to see if she liked him as much sober as she had tipsy.

Annabeth had had a crush on him once. They crossed paths at an Easter garden party when they were twelve, and she and Percy got up to some trademark mischief. The press was quick to name Annabeth a "wild child" despite her being very literally a child, but those youthful rebellions (stealing extra deserts and seeing who could get closest to the Queen of Spain without being noticed) had solidified her as "Sweden's sweetheart" to her people at least. That mattered much more to her.

They were kept apart after that.

Until they met on opposite ends of a mock trial case involving bribes, police entrapment, and a briefcase full of money. Yale's team always was better than Harvard's, despite her best efforts. But she and Piper were a rock star attorney-witness pair that constantly knocked Percy out of the top awards spot.

It was a testament to her skill that she even managed to stay focused when they went up against Yale. Because the cute twelve year old she'd once crushed on hard was now a very hot man. And the six years that had passed since their college days had only made him hotter. Strong jaw, Roman nose, dark hair, light eyes, muscular but not too much, well-done tattoos ...

Annabeth was cooked.

She had hoped she wouldn't find him as appealing when she was sober, but no. If anything it was worse.

"Bit old school to go with another royal, isn't it?" Her dad had asked her that morning when he showed her The Sun. (After about 15 minutes of ranting to staff about what an invasion of his daughter's privacy, that was).

All Annabeth could do was shrug and say, "He's barely royal. And we aren't going steady. He hasn't pinned me on the back of the school bus, or anything."

"I'm not that old," her father said with a laugh.

Annabeth reached for another bite. "I never asked. What did you study at Yale?"

"Oh, classics," Percy said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Did a master's too."

"Really?" Annabeth asked. It seemed so impractical. She'd been pushed to do all sorts of pre-law, history, and international relations courses, despite her real passions for architecture and design. But she figured that was the trade-off to being born into the most extreme generational privilege.

Percy nodded. "I'm thinking about applying to Oxbridge for a Ph.D."

Annabeth smiled, and asked again: "Really?"

"I'm not just some big, hot, dummy," he said.

"I don't think you're dumb, Percy," Annabeth said.

"Thanks," Percy said. Percy had his charmer smile -- it was a bold, straight on, smile that was a little cocky, but mostly communicated that you were the center of his attention in that moment. And then he had a real smile, one that betrayed him and communicated real affection. It was softer, smaller, closed-lipped, and he usually looked away as it happened.

This was one of those.

"Do you know Greek?" Annabeth asked, resting a hand on his knee.

"Ancient," he said, before reciting a few lines Annabeth recognized. The roll of his tongue as he spoke the ancient language made her warm.

He paused right when the poem was getting good. "That was --"

"Goddess, sing of the cataclysmic wrath of great Achilles, son of Peleus, which caused the Greeks immeasurable pain and sent to many noble souls of heroes to Hades," Annabeth finished for him.

Percy smiled. "Didn't know you knew Ancient Greek."

Annabeth shrugged. "I'm hardly fluent, but I know the heavy hitters. I always preferred --" she recited a few lines in Greek herself. Percy was biting the inside of his lip and the tops of his cheeks had gone a bit pink.

"Tell me about a complicated man," Percy translated. "Muse," his gaze bore into her as if she were the muse, "tell me how he wandered and was lost when he had wrecked the holy town of troy, and were he went, and who he met, and the pain he suffered on the sea."

He rested a hand on her face, brushing her cheek with his thumb, before pulling her in. The kiss was soft, curious, almost romantic. She hummed as they pulled away from each other.

"I always thought you'd be more of an Odyssey girl," he said when they pulled away.

"What does that mean?" She asked, ready to be teased or insulted.

Percy just leaned back against the couch. "It means I think you have good taste and correct opinions," he said.

Well, he'd certainly figured out the right things to say to get her into bed.

Annabeth crawled onto his lap, straddling him, before pushing her loose blonde curls back and away from her face. Percy's hands settled on the backs of her thighs.

~*~

That Iliad thing only worked like ... 40% of the time. He couldn't believe it'd worked for her. But Percy should have guessed she'd know at least some of the classics. It was the kind of thing kids in their position got taught. It still worked though. And now he had Sweden's sweetheart back in his lap, short skirt, bare legs, grinding up against him.

"Can I touch you, princess?" He asked.

She nodded, and Percy's hand slipped under her skirt and pushed her panties to the side to get at her cunt. He smirked a little. Oh his little Iliad stunt had worked.

"Do you -- ah -- want to take them off?" Annabeth asked. "Or do you just think I'm so hideous you prefer if I keep my clothes on?"

He'd asked her to keep her gown on last night for at least the first round. It was deep, royal blue, strapless, glittery, and it was driving him wild all night. He asked her to ride him in it, and she had. It was an image Percy would never forget, even if they had ruined some of the inner layers of fabric.

"God, no, Annabeth," Percy said, pulling her in for a kiss. Hideous? Even as a joke it was an outrageous thing for her to say. "I just like messing you up. Getting you wet and rumpled. I like making this perfect princess do a real walk of shame back to her castle."

Annabeth's cheeks were flushed, but that might be because he'd found a spot that had her back arching, and had her grinding her clit against the heel of his palm.

"I'd have to be ashamed first. And I don't walk to my castle. I have a private jet," she said.

"And a callous disregard for the environment," Percy teased.

"I'm too important for business class," she said. But that was where her teasing ending. She pitched forward towards him, her lips pressing against his neck as she kissed and nipped at the skin. "Percy, talk to me," she whispered in his ear.

"Talk?" He asked.

"Talk dirty."

Percy panicked. He usually had a little dirty talk up his sleeve, but he'd used it all up on his little walk of shame spiel. He was, in reality, painfully earnest and romantic. It made for a great wedding toast, but not for dirty talking a hookup.

She spoke ancient Greek. What were the odds she also knew Spanish. Pretty high, he figured, probably pretty high. But ...

"[You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,]" he tried in a lusty tone. He'd spent his years in New York learning a more Latin American accent. It pissed his pretentious family off, but the Spanish lisp simply wasn't very sexy in his opinion.

"I like that," Annabeth said. "Am I supposed to know what you're saying?" She asked.

"No, that's part of the fun," he said. Thank god.

He went on. There were some dirty things in there, like how he planned to eat her out, and how he loved being inside her. And then that slipped so quickly into praising how beautiful and smart she was. How happy he was that she was here. How he'd wanted her for years. How she passed every expectation.

Corny and painfully honest shit like that, until she was gasping his name, thighs trembling, and getting impossibly wetter around his fingers. He simply kissed her as her orgasm finished, before slipping her panties back into place, swiping his finger over her now-covered cunt, to make sure they were a proper mess.

Annabeth was breathing hard in his lap, her gray eyes fixed on his. He expected her to say something. Something witty and maybe a little mean (he liked when she was mean. If she bullied him enough right now, he might just cum).

But she just leaned forward again, and captured him in a hot, desperate kiss.

~

"Should I return the favor in Swedish?" She joked between hot kisses.

She'd settled down into his lap, grinding her ruined panties against his clothed hard cock. He needed her, she could tell. She'd given him head this morning before they parted ways and before The Sun exposed their hookup. She'd become well acquainted with what a desperate, needy Percy looked like.

Really, she wasn't going to speak Swedish to him unless he asked. She knew it wasn't the hottest language out there.

She hadn't meant to, but she'd set Percy up for failure, and herself up to be insulted.

"That's alright," he said. A good start. "It makes you sound like a muppet." Horrific ending.

Jokes about meatballs and flat pack furniture? Fine, respectable even. The Swedish Chef? A joke she heard enough at her all-girls boarding school.

Annabeth frowned and got off his lap.

"Wait --" he said. She just stood and walked away from the couch, choosing to instead snoop around his room while she decided what her next move was. "Annabeth, I'm sorry. That was too far."

"It was," she said.

There was a large, blue velvet box on his dresser. She knew what boxes this size usually held. She opened it. She knew it was the Prussian Diamond tiara that belonged to his aunt, but she played dumb.

Annabeth held up the tiara (carefully). "How many other princesses join you in here?" She asked.

Percy stood and walked over to her. He took the tiara out of her hands. "It's my aunts. My cousin asked me to make sure it made it to the event so she could wear it, and then she canceled. Said she had some punk concert at a Berlin leather bar or something."

The Spanish princess was so much cooler than she was.

She thought Percy would move to put it back, make sure this heirloom of his country stayed safe, but instead, he placed it on her head.

"You're the only princess, I promise," he said. "Sorry for making fun of you and your national language," he said, before kissing her gently. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings like that."

Annabeth decided to forgive him, and pick up on their little game.

"It doesn't seem like you respect my country very much," she said, the confidence in her voice returning.

"I do," he promised, pressing his body up against hers, and pressing her back into the dresser behind her. He buried his face in her shoulder, kissing whatever skin he could find.

"Prove it," she said. "Bow."

She felt a slight shift in Percy's demeanor. He was going to yield to her, and just like that, too.

Percy stepped back, held his back straight, and dropped his head quickly.

"Better than that," she said.

He rested his forearm across his torso, before bending at the waist.

"Lower," she instructed. He hinged at the hips. Still not right. "Get on your knees," she told him. Percy dropped.

He watched her from his spot on the floor, big green eyes empty of anything but desire. She would have fun with this, she was sure.

Annabeth unbuttoned her shirt before tossing it aside. Then her bra. she shimmied out of her skirt, and then dropped her panties, kicking them towards the pile. She left the Spanish queen's tiara on. Annabeth had always liked breaking the rules, and she had never been a fan of Percy's aunt.

Annabeth hooked a leg over Percy's shoulder, getting his head between her legs.

"Please," Percy begged.

Annabeth smiled. "Go ahead."

~

Annabeth was wise enough to return the tiara to the box before Percy tossed her on the bed to eat her front to back. She'd never had anyone play with her ass in any way, so when his tongue slipped back there ... well, she was surprised he enjoyed it so much, and really surprised she enjoyed it so much. Annabeth was also pretty sure Percy nearly came from rutting against the sheets as she came on his face a third time.

"I lied to you before," Annabeth said with a giggle as Percy washed his face and mouth before she finally let him inside her. "My dad is furious about the pictures, and demands you marry me to preserve my honor."

Percy stepped out with a smile on his face. She'd peeled his clothes off at some point, so he was all tattoos, muscle, and hard cock.

"You enjoyed that so much you're going to marriage trap me Bridgerton-style?" He asked with a grin.

Annabeth pulled him back into bed. "I just might have to. Where did you learn how to do that?" She asked.

Percy paused and tilted his head side to side as he decided what to say, before landing simply on: "Gay sex, mostly."

Annabeth offered a shocked, open mouthed smile. "Oh!" she said.

"Is that okay?" He asked, twirling a curl around one of his fingers.

"Perfectly fine," she promised, "I just didn't expect you to be so frank."

"Frank and I did do that a lot," he said. She didn't know who Frank was, or if he was even real, or just a character he made up for the joke. "You're sure it's fine? Being with a bi dude?"

Annabeth giggled. "I went to an all-girls boarding school, Percy, I've had gay sex too." More than straight sex probably.

"I had a feeling you and Tristan McLean's daughter weren't just very good friends," he teased.

"Well, duh," Annabeth confessed. She and Piper were very good friends now. College was a different story.

Annabeth rolled onto her back and reached a hand out for him.

"What is it, princess?" He asked.

"You've been very patient," she said. Percy nodded. "Do you want me to blow you or do you want to fuck me?" She asked, offering him the choice.

Percy crawled on top of her before kissing her. He'd made such a sweet submissive, and she wondered if she could draw that out of him more. She'd be willing to bet it wasn't uncharted territory for him.

But he seemed different now. He held her wrists in her hands and pinned them over her head.

"Oh," she whimpered. Percy smirked down at her, as if to say gotcha. How he'd clocked her submissive streak too, she couldn't be sure.. But it was all an added bonus. The government wanted her to find a husband. She really just wanted a talented switch to take the edge off at the end of the day. She figure out romance some other time.

With each passing moment, Annabeth became more and more sure she needed to marriage trap this man, Bridgerton-style.

But while he rocked himself inside her, he started speaking Spanish again. So many sweet and lovely things about how beautiful she was, how much he adored her, how long he'd desired her. She might not have to marriage trap him. She might just have to date him, old school royal-on-royal style.

She'd confess to speaking Spanish in the morning. Right now, she just wanted to know what he said to her when he wasn't worried about winning their little games.

[murfeelee]

IWTV Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark - Alternate Universe

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us.

2. Aug 13th & 14th: Alternate Universe

“It’s chaos after you die. It’s a dream from which you cannot wake.” Armand says quietly to Daniel. “Imagine drifting half in and out of consciousness, trying vainly to remember who you are or what you were. Imagine straining forever for the lost clarity of the living—” Armand stops suddenly to glare somewhere to Lestat’s left. “Lestat, I beg you on bended knee to close your mind. I cannot bear to listen to her any longer.” “Listen to who,” Louis asks, sharp as fangs. “CLAUDIA!” Lestat shouts into the swamp, spinning in his inner tube. “These drugs are making me hallucinate our dead daughter. I’ve been listening to her explain exactly how I failed her with much virulence and creativity for the last forty-five minutes.” “What’s she like?” Louis asks, eager as anything. “Magnifique,” Lestat answers immediately. “She despises me. She’s wearing a yellow… I believe it is called a tankini. She has a margarita....” Lestat twists in his tube to glare at Armand. “Montre-lui/ Show him.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut, wrists limp in front of him. Armand’s mindgift transmission is jagged and blurry from the drugs, and Lestat’s view is all the more distorted by his own intoxication, but it’s her, it’s her. Claudia rises from the dead to berate Lestat from her very own inner tube, pausing only to take sips from her human drink. At least she is granted liquor in the hopeless afterlife that is haunting Lestat. Claudia’s hair is pulled back the way it was the day she passed, but her face is baby smooth, no trace of the injury the coven had subjected her to before her murder. She smiles at Lestat, dimple still adorable, no matter how old she gets. “And I don’t give one solitary sh*t if you’ve got him d**kmatized,” Claudia tells Lestat. “He says he forgives you for letting me die?” She brings her fingers together and gestures to her own chest. “I don’t f**king forgive you! ” Claudia starts singing in mockery, bitter as her daddy on his worst nights. She cups her hands (Her beautiful hands! The simple pleasure of her hand in his!) around her mouth like a megaphone. “I don’t forgivveeee you!” “Jesus Christ,” Louis hears Daniel say in the real world before exploding into choking coughs. In Lestat’s psychosis as translated by Armand on LSD, Claudia keeps at it. She urges Lestat to find new and innovative ways to kill himself, embodying Lestat’s senselessness and Louis’ sense in her rage. Their courageous, intelligent, honest-to-God hurricane of a daughter does not look Louis’ way the whole memory, even though Louis deserves the privilege of meeting her eyes again so much more than Lestat does. Even though Louis has spent a lifetime fasting and praying for it. But she is Lestat’s ghost, she haunts him just like she said she would, and Louis figures… He hears his own laugh—hysterical—as the memory ends, the tears wet on his cheeks. Louis figures he’s just too sane to see her these days.

-- Alligator Tears, @siahatha

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

A day late, cuz I was busy yesterday.

This post was directly inspired by the latest chapter of an extremely good & unhinged post-canon modern AU IWTV fanfic, where Loustat are back together, Devil's Minion is a thing, and Lestat's being haunted by the ghost of Claudia's memory. Louis' sad that he can only see her through Armand, cuz he can't read his Maker Lestat's mind, ofc.

CC CREDITS

-- IP EP pool floats by me

-- Lestat heatstroke tan line in gamma by me

-- Blood bags by @thebleedingwoodland (X X)

-- Louis swimsuit at MTS

-- Gators at Simszoo

[luveline]

Hi! I have a req for zombie Steve! Maybe one about the day they got stuck in the taco truck and he asked reader to sing for him! Sending all my love to you Jade! 🥰

thank you for your request! steve zombie au —you and steve get stuck in a taco truck with no idea what you mean to one another. 3k, fem!reader

You and Steve stand side by side. The wind is gentle, the sun occluded by a swath of thin clouds. He has a hand reached out to touch your thigh as you stand there, his knuckles pressed to your jeans with light pressure. 

"I wish," you begin, a dangerous game, "that someone was about to open the shutter and ask us what we want." 

Steve doesn't laugh, but he huffs through his nose. He's growing softer and softer these days, which isn't to say he's soft at all, but he's less coarse. His grumpiness wanes. You think it might have something to do with your sleeping in his lap nearly every night, arms wrapped around his waist while he sits and keeps watch as you rest. Sometimes when he wakes you up to take over, he even deigns to sleep on your thigh. 

It's hard to be mad at each other while you use one another like pillows. Hard, yet not impossible. 

"I wish I was living on a private island," Steve says. "With a private chef. And–" 

"Private dancers?" you tease. 

He does smile, then. Like you're friends. Like you could be more. You hope so —he kissed you two weeks ago and he hasn't said a thing about it since. You'd hoped he might kiss you more, but you're content (kind of) with this odd in between. 

He doesn't regret it, surely, having been nice to you on multiple occasions since; smoothing your cheek with his knuckle, or nudging you affectionately when you say something meant to be funny. Tiny moments of sweetness. 

He'd been sweet before every now and then. Steve isn't mean. He can be, but that isn't the centre of his character. He's brave, loyal, and good to you. He's funny when he lets himself be, and he'd surprised you by being rather creative a few weeks ago, when he'd found a stone that felt gritty and scratched the two of you onto a stretch of sidewalk. "There," he said, giving sidewalk-you an oddly pretty smile, "maybe one day someone will know we were here together." 

Together.

"Should we go in?" Steve asks, shielding his eyes from the sun. 

In another welcome warming toward you, Steve asks you your opinion more and more. 

"Is there any point?" you ask. 

"All the food is spoiled for sure, but maybe it'll be worth it. My knife is still stuck in that geek's skull in Masy Daisy. There's probably one in the truck I can replace it with."

"Or a spatula, if not."

"Maybe a ladel," he agrees. "Alright, come on. I'm gonna lift you through the window." 

"Why are you going to lift me through the window?" you ask, startled. 

"For the knife?" 

"But why not the door?" 

"Door's locked, genius." 

"Why don't I lift you through the window?" you ask. "And shouldn't we at least try the door?" 

You try the door and Steve doesn't mock you when it doesn't work, because it had been sensible to test it even if the chances were low. He slides his fingers under the shutter and lifts it until it locks from opening any further, rusty paint specks flaking to the ground. 

"You'll have to lift me," he says, as though you hadn't suggested it yourself. Infuriating. "Do you think you can?" 

"You don't think I can?" you ask. 

His gaze softens, just a bit. "You could barely move the day before yesterday. It's cool if you still feel achy." 

He feels guilty for letting you drink water that went bad. It had been a mix up. You asked him to pass you the water bottle and he'd grabbed one someone left behind a long time ago, unaware it was the wrong one until you'd thrown up an hour later. Terrifying, how quickly it upset your stomach. He put a new rule in place swiftly after that any debris in your camps must be swept to the side of the room, even if you're both exhausted. 

"I don't feel achy. The only thing that's bothering me is my sore throat," you confess, squaring your jaw. "Come on, Harrington, I can lift you. I'm super strong." 

"You're strong," he agrees. "Okay, uh, am I climbing on your back or are you gonna boost me?" 

"Boost." 

You make an anchoring point with your hand and Steve, after giving you a strange look, pulls the shutter open again and steps into your hand. You're expecting him to be somehow lighter and heavier than he actually is —your hands hurt from the pinpoint of his weight but you'd thought it would be harder to lift him up, and so you'd been trying to give it your all. 

"Oh, shit–" Steve's curse is cut off by a loud thump and crash, a clattering of metal against metal as the shutter swings shut behind him. 

"Steve!" you shout. Your voice isn't used to yelling. "Steve? Are you okay? I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" 

He's laughing inside, but when he pops his head back out of the truck he glares at you. "What's that about?" His glare melds into a softer look. "You're way stronger than you look."

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"It's fine," he says, emphasising with a smile. "It's only a concussion." 

You frown at him. He mocks your frown. 

He's definitely flirting with you. 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"For you to be quick. I'm getting the heebies out here." 

"Well, don't say I never tried to grant your wish," he says. 

He puts the shutter of the taco truck onto a locked hinge so it keeps itself up and turns away from you. The counter isn't so far from the floor after all, and you can see pretty much everything he does as he scans the interior for useful things.

He grabs a kitchen knife that looks sharp and a saucepan with a hole at the end of the handle that looks perfect for tying to his backpack, passing them down to you carefully.

"There's, uh, there's some t-shirts in here, taco truck shirts. Shit, that's hilarious, should we take them?" 

"Yeah," you say, happy if he's happy, "we can be matching." 

"Sweet." 

Steve climbs up onto the counter. You hold your hands out to help him down, and for a second you think he might let you, his hand in yours. His gaze snags left, and he pitches back into the truck on a mad scramble. 

You turn to where he was looking, catch a snapshot of what looks like a writhing hill approaching you, and then Steve's grabbing your forearms hard in his grasp and hissing, "Climb up! Climb up, Y/N. Grab me!" 

Your heart rockets into your mouth as you grab his shoulders, fingers aching as they twist into the fabric of his jacket. Steve yanks you inside, and you almost break his chin with your forehead as you topple inside and on top of him, the two of you hitting the short length of flooring with a bang. 

"Stay down," he says, hand behind your head, "and be quiet." 

Your forehead hurts from hitting into him. You can't imagine how his chin feels. Pulse capering with fear-wrought adrenaline, you hide your face in his neck and try not to pant wetly into his skin. His arms tighten around when the sounds grow closer. Moaning breath. Shuffling, heavy feet. 

He holds you. You don't have the wits to revel in it.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, laying on his chest, your hands digging into his sides. He doesn't complain, doesn't hiss or murmur chastisement. Steve hugs you to him and lets out staggering, harsh breaths. He's scared too. 

When the sound of the geek herd is a distant memory, you attempt to sit up, and surprisingly he lets you without comment. You kneel on the divoted flooring and blink, and before Steve can sit up himself you're moving into a crouch to peek over the counter. 

Your bags have been tramped, your things strewn across the road outside. Steve crouches next to you. "Shit," he says. 

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, gesturing to his chin. "I'm really sorry, Steve."

"You say sorry too much," he says, eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry for almost pulling your arms off, okay? Let's call it even." He turns to you. A little frown pulls at the corners of his pretty mouth. "Did I hurt you?" 

He grabs your elbow like he might check. 

You shake your head vehemently. "No, I'm grateful. I don't know why I didn't notice them coming, I'm an idiot, I was–" distracted by you, you think. Your happy smile. You cough. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're reckless, and you could've killed yourself by not keeping an eye out, but you're not stupid." 

His chin has a red mark on it. You nibble the inside of your bottom lip unhappily, eyebrows furrowed and then pinching upwards. 

"I'm sorry," you say again, quick and upset with yourself. 

"Are we okay? Are we alive? We're fine, dummy, and it's okay. Don't be sorry, just help me down so we can get our stuff back. I hope the jar of cut peaches didn't smash." 

You both stand with aching knees. You reach for hinge on the shutter to see if you can open it wider and almost lose a finger when it comes crashing down, a cruel metallic screeching sound slicing through the air. You both flinch away from it, eyes screwed closed and hands held upward. 

Steve blinks, lowering his hands slowly. 

You leap to open it again, embarrassed, wanting to do just one thing right today, but it won't budge. Steve stands next to you and fiddles with it. 

"Uh," he says, giving the shutter a good shove. "What did you do?" 

And so begins one of the worst nights of your life. You and Steve spend hours trying to open the shutter. You push it, you beat at it with a heavy saucepan, you even break a knife in half and nearly blind yourself trying to force a gap in the seam. Nothing works, and you and Steve grow more and more afraid. 

It startles you that he doesn't yell. He doesn't blame you once. He keeps trying to get the shutter open, and when hours of attempting to free you proves fruitless, he sits down in the corner of the van and sighs. His head in his hands, you can't see his face, or gauge his feelings. His slumped shoulders tell you he's tired, but tired of you? Is he bubbling, bottling his anger until the last moment. 

You sit down in front of him, your face a little tacky from the occasional self-loathing tear. Your throat aches something fierce. "Don't worry, Steve," you say hoarsely, "I'm gonna keep trying. Just rest, and don't panic. I promise I– I promise I'll get us out." 

Steve scrubs his face. He parts his fingers, looking at you from between them with an unreadable emotion. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, tears welling thick and fat as heavy rain, quick to race down your cheek. You ignore them as Steve holds your gaze.

He takes your hand. He threads your fingers together. He isn't your boyfriend, but he acts like one, and he sounds like one when he asks, "What did I say about sorry?" 

"I know, but this is my fault," you breathe. 

"It's not your fault. It's not. Don't cry," he says. "Let me think of something. I'll think of something." 

He doesn't let go of your hand. You take it as a cue to stay, and you do, depressed beyond words at the reality of your situation. Again, your circumstances ruin the intimacy of his closeness. He tries his best to comfort you, you know, his thumb rubbing tiny slow circles into the back of your hand.

"Maybe we should sleep," he says, "and try again tomorrow. Maybe the hinge will relax, or something." 

You nod numbly. With no reason for a first or second watch, you're expecting Steve to lay flat and sleep without fuss, but he bundles up the spare uniforms inside and leans his head on them, gesturing for you to rest your head on his chest. You do as instructed. Even before he kissed you, you were sleeping in his lap. His chest is no different. You try not to read into it as you settle there, in the same way that you try not to read into his hand on the small of your back, the tip of his ring finger pushed a half of a centimetre into the waistband of your jeans. He probably doesn't know he's doing it. 

You're going to die. You're gonna starve to death in here, with him, your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend, having survived hordes and herds, malnutrition, infection, and a boat load of moderate to severe injuries.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. You shake under Steve's hands. 

"It's not your fault." 

"It is. I shut it. I got it stuck." 

"But why were we in here?" he asks. 

"Because… the herd?" 

"But why were we in here?" he asks. "Why did we come this way? Why did we follow this road?" 

You sigh into his chest, "No, Steve." 

"I asked you to come this way with me. I didn't even ask. I told you we were coming here and you trusted me. You've never," —he swallows audibly— "said no. This is my fault. It's all me." His voice doesn't harden, exactly, but it pulls taut and tensile. Unbreaking. "Just sleep. I'll get us out of here in the morning, I swear." 

You try to do as he asks. You know he isn't sleeping either, though he might be pretending you are, because he starts to do what he only does when he thinks you've fallen asleep, his hand stroking up and down your back. 

You rub your cheek against his chest. 

"You said…" You lick your lips, wondering if you're making a mistake even as you continue, "You liked Fleetwood Mac." 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly. 

"I liked them too."

"You did?" 

"My favourite one, was, um, You Make Loving Fun."

You don't say it, but it's right there between you —the word love. Even with danger hanging over your heads, a mention of love feels awkward, awkward but exciting in that breathless, silly way. At least on your part. 

"I don't remember that one." 

"That album had all the good ones, that's why. It's forgotten." 

Steve smooths a hand down to your jeans. He creeps ever further, his touch just shy of skin he's never felt before. "Would you sing it for me?" 

"I'm all scratchy." 

"I don't care, I think I'd know it if I heard it. Sing it for me." 

You sing the first line, and the second, shaky with insecurity and off key. It's been so long since you heard music, you barely remember how it goes, though you can't forget the words. You're barely singing your way through the end of the verse, "This feeling follows me wherever I go," when Steve starts to tremble underneath you. 

You look up. His lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are shining with delight. 

You pout, knowing exactly what he's gonna say. "What?" 

"You sound like a dying cat," he says fondly, bursting into laughter. 

You sit up and turn from him showfully, slapping his thigh as you go. You're not mad, but it's fun to pretend with him, and even better when he says, "Sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, you sound like you've swallowed glass, is what I mean. Hon– Y/N." His hands grabbing at your arm, pulling you back in. 

You resist him. 

His grip slackens. "Hey, I didn't mean it. I'm kidding," he says. 

You shake his hand off of you and stand up. Squinting, you creep toward the door, and you can barely see it in the poor lighting of the truck, but you read it aloud anyways. "Door locks from behind. Do not forget your key." 

"What?" 

You try the handle. 

You hadn't bothered because it was locked from the outside. But this is a food truck, and it would be a fire hazard to lock closed with no escape. The door opens stiffly, but it opens, and the cool air of the night kisses your cheeks. 

"Oh, thank god," Steve says. 

You prop it open with your foot even if you're sure it won't lock. "Do you really think I sound like a dying cat?"

Steve nods firmly, already sitting up. "But I thought that might be cruel if we died here together. Hence the backtrack." 

You and Steve climb down out of the truck and search for your stuff in the dark. The jar of peaches has survived, as well as your favoured pack of playing cards, which you'd envisioned strewn about the street. 

"Here," he says, pressing it into your hand. He turns his flashlight on and shines it downward, looking for the rest of your canned food. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

You really do like him, love him, even. You're grateful for him, and the euphoria of knowing you're not doomed after all rises fast. But he's a dick. You can be a dick back. 

"Hey, Steve?" you ask sweetly. He turns, torch in hand, looking pleased. "Hey. I was thinking, now we aren't going to die and all, I could teach you some games? Gin rummy?" 

"Sure." 

"We can bet using the jar of peach slices. I'll go easy on you, though, 'cos you've never played it." 

He smiles at you. "Thanks, Y/N." 

You smirk to yourself and step forward to pick up a stray can of spaghetti shapes. "No problem," you say under your breath. "No problem at all." 

—

"

[adorethedistance]

Princess Antics - Trevor Zegras x Actress!Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, PDA

Words: 1352

Summary: Dating a famous hockey player is tough sometimes, but dating a Disney Princess may just give Trevor a run for his money.

A/n: I've posted this fic before and if you want to know the reason why, I've included an author's note at the end to explain.

A fruit smoothie. All week I have been craving a fruit smoothie, but because I’ve been in the recording studio all day everyday, I’ve had to eliminate dairy from my diet completely. I’m recording songs from the upcoming sequel to my first Disney movie “Cassie and The Prince”; a half-animated, half-live action Enchanted style movie, in which I play Cassie, the cautious and delicate wallflower-princess whose best friend is a grey rabbit. ‘The Prince’ aka Prince Oliver, who is voiced by Tom Holland, is the rambunctious, rifting presence in her life that gets her to live a little.

This week, the two of us have been recording vocals for a duet that the characters share at the beginning of the movie, and continuous days of singing equals ‘it’s better to not risk it’ with foods that affect your vocal sound and ability. We eventually wrapped on the song and the arrival of the weekend means I can finally fulfill my smoothie craving. My supportive as ever boyfriend, Trevor, accompanies me in getting my hard earned smoothie, figuring we could make a date out of the outing.

As we enter the small shop on the outside of our favorite mall, Trevor and I breathe a little easier to see we’re the only ones in the place. When you’re a Disney Princess and NHL player together, at least one of you can and will be recognized in public at any time. However, it’s hard to be recognized by people that aren’t around. I give Trevor my order (although I’m sure he already has it memorized), spewing the information at him as quickly but coherently as I can, as I have to use the bathroom urgently. Trevor assures me he’s got it and ushers me away to finally use the restroom. 

Once I finish, I look at myself in the mirror and gasp aloud at the realization that, in my hurried state, I forgot to tell Trevor I wanted a vitamin boost in my drink. With a pouty bottom lip and a melodramatic sadness in my eyes, I exit the smoothie shop’s bathroom, and approach my boyfriend who’s sitting on a bar stool that’s facing outside the store window. I begin to whine because of my own slip up,

“I had to pee so bad I forgot to tell you I wanted the vitamin boost in my drink!” Trevor laughs as he pulls out the adjacent stool, patting it for me to sit on,

“Good thing I got it for you.” 

“You did?!”

“Mhm.”

“Ah! What would I do without you?”

“Not have a vitamin boost probably.” The quip makes me laugh and Trevor smiles upon hearing the sound. I open my mouth to ask him another question but my voice is caught in my throat when a tiny squeal interrupts the mechanical sounds of the smoothie shop.

Looking to the source of the noise, I spot a young girl who can’t be any older than pre-school age with her mouth open in a gaping-smile. Her tiny brown eyes glitter with pure shock upon seeing me look at her. I can’t help but smile at her excitement and look at Trevor who is trying very hard to conceal a smile of his own.

“Princess Cassie! Mom, look! It’s Princess Cassie!” The girl tugs on her mothers hand to grab her attention before pointing in my direction and I grin at the mother to ease her previously startled demeanor. Her face morphs from confusion to a smile of disbelief.

“Oh my goodness, you’re real!” I laugh lightly at the woman’s joke before turning my attention back to the little girl who can hardly contain herself.

“Hi sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Lucy.” I bend down to her level to both hear her and to let her know she has my attention.

“Lucy! What a pretty name. That sounds like a princess name, are you a princess, too?”

“Well, sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Me too. How old are you, Lucy?”

“Four- Also, I saw you in the mall yesterday,” responds, clearly not interested in talking about herself at the moment.

“You saw me in the mall?”

“The poster for Cassie and The Prince is in the window of the Disney store,” her mother clarifies, as the ramblings of four year olds can be incoherent at times.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“And, also, you were on the tv there, too, singing ‘Be Free’ with all the animals and Prince Oliver.”

“‘Be Free’ is a fun song. Is that your favorite song from the movie?”

“No. I like ‘Today Of All Days’ when you teach the prince how to talk to Louie the Bunny,” Trevor and I still haven’t gone public with our relationship, so I honored him in naming the Princess’s animal sidekick after his own real-life animal sidekick “What happened to your hair?”

“Oh, Lucy!” Her mother scolds the bluntness of her daughter’s question. My hair is up off my face today, and nowhere near the length of the extensions hair and makeup puts me in, so the contrast is notably different.

“It’s okay. I had to cut some of it off because it was getting too heavy.”

“Order for Trevor!” The one man cashier-barista calls from behind the counter, setting down the two smoothies Trevor had ordered not just five minutes ago. The mother clocks Trevor--the unfamiliar man I’d been talking to earlier--rising to grab the two drinks and leans down to speak to Lucy.

“Honey, we should let Princess Cassie go, I’m sure she has things to do today.”

“Can we take a picture?”

“You have to ask her for a picture, not me.”

“Can we take a picture with you?”

“Of course, honey.” I squat down to be closer in height with the small girl before beckoning her over. “Is it okay if I hug you for the picture?” I ask to which she nods yes and wraps me in a tight hug, pressing her tiny cheek against my face. Her mom snaps the picture on her white iPhone 12, using her index finger to do so. After, she motions for her daughter to come view the picture, and once Lucy’s attention is centered on the picture, she mouths a silent ‘thank you’ to me; I break character to wave off the complimentary closing and, miraculously, gracefully rise from the floor. When I’m back to full height, I take my smoothie from Trevor’s extended hand, smiling at the fact that he took the liberty to unwrap ¾ of the straw like a restaurant would.

“Thank you, kind sir.” Trevor steps in front of me to hold the door open, and with a wave, I give Lucy a final goodbye. As the two of us begin walking back to his car, I don’t miss the indiscernible smile he’s giving me. “What?” I ask. He shrugs nonchalantly,

“Nothing.”

“Whaaat?” He then shakes his head in partial amusement, partial disbelief. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating an actual disney princess.” 

“I’m just glad she didn’t ask me to sing.” Trevor barks a laugh as he nearly chokes on a sip of his smoothie.

“Has that happened before?”

“Oh, babe,” I puff out of exasperation just thinking about it, “They want the whole album!”

“Did you?”

“Yes! I’m not gonna crush a little girl’s dreams just because my voice is cold. Would you refuse to throw a puck to a kid over the glass if your arm was sore?”

“This isn’t about me, Princess Cassie.” I roll my eyes as I slip into the passenger seat of Trevor’s car. Once buckled, I pull the remaining straw paper off my straw and at the first taste of the fruit smoothie hitting my tongue, I let out a groan at the satisfaction of what had been a week-long craving in the making.

“God, if I’d known a smoothie was all it’d take to get that kind of reaction out of you, I would’ve brought you here ages ago,” Trevor jeers from the driver’s side. I playfully shove his shoulder which doesn’t do much in the way of inconveniencing the six-feet-tall pro hockey player. 

“That’s no way to talk to a princess!”

***

A/n: If there's anyone who's been following me for a while now, you'll recognize this is the exact same fic as one of my Owen Joyner fics. I originally wrote this piece about Trevor but posted it for Owen because I didn't have a hockey following then and I didn't think anyone would want to read it at the time. Now that I have a relatively stable hockey following I figured posting the original would reach the original intended audience.

[jayzfort]

Remember that time? || Panville

Pairings- Pansy P. x Neville L. A/N- I'm feeling a tad bit overdramatic today, and yesterday I read a prompt about "signet rings" and may have gotten a somewhat angst-y idea. It has a happy ending, obviously.

Remember when you "almost" got married?

Neville was cleaning up the attic of their house when he came across a dusty old trunk. Brushing off some of the dust, he saw his wife's initials carved into the trunk, next to the Parkinson family crest. "Pansy Parkinson," it read.

"August?" he called out for his son. His 14-year-old son ran up to the attic, giving a visible shiver. "Why'd you shiver, son?" Neville asked, concerned.

"Nothing, just this place has always given me the haunts. I am sure that this house has a ghost that sings at night; Francesca told me," August said, causing Neville to let out a hearty laugh.

"I assure you, there's no ghost in the attic. Besides, shouldn't you be used to ghosts? After all, Hogwarts has ghosts," Neville said as he pulled up the trunk, which was quite heavy. "What did your mum put in here? It's so heavy," he muttered absentmindedly.

"Dad, I'm telling you, there's a ghost who sings at night. I've heard her, when I was five," August insisted, trying to get his dad to believe him.

"Honey, are you sure it wasn't just Francesca singing in the shower?" Neville said.

"I heard that!" came a voice from downstairs. It was his middle child, Francesca.

"Whoops," Neville said. "Aug, I need you to go downstairs and ask your mum for the key to this trunk. Also, call her here; she might want to give away some of the things inside."

"Got it, be right back," August said, racing to the living room of the Longbottom household to find his mother. "Mum?" he called out, but there was no answer. "MUM?" he called out louder.

"I'm here, baby," his mother called out from the study. When he entered, he saw his older sister, Francesca, complaining to their mother. "Thankfully, I don't need to hear him say that again, ever."

"Say what?" August asked his sister.

"You know, when Dad starts every Herbology class with one of us in it by announcing, 'I'd like to inform you that I'm only sleeping with one of the students' mothers in this class,'" Francesca replied. August scrunched his nose in disgust. His sisters, Alice and Francesca, had been on the receiving end of this "joke" from their dad since their first year, and he did not find it funny at all.

"It's really not as funny as he thinks it is," August told his mom and his sister.

Pansy just laughed. "Let him have some fun; he's getting old, you know," Francesca told her brother, which earned her a playful glare from her mum.

"He's not old; he's quite strong and fit for his age," Pansy said to her daughter.

"You're only saying that because you're a few months older than Dad, and if we say he's old, that makes you OLDER," August teased his mother.

"I miss having Alice around. At least she'd take my side," Pansy said, crossing her arms.

"Too bad, Mum. Your favorite twenty-year-old decided to pursue wand making in Australia for a year," Francesca said.

Just before they could complete their banter, Neville came down the stairs, carrying the old heavy trunk with ease, and placed it on the table, flexing his very prominent arm muscles. Francesca muttered, "Show off," to her dad, to which he just sent a lovable wink in her direction.

"See? I told you, he's more than fit for his age," Pansy said, smirking at her husband.

"Ew, Mum, stop, or else Alice wouldn't be your only kid off to Australia. Aug and I'll go off too," Francesca said.

"August, did you ask your mum for the keys?" Neville asked his son.

"What keys?" August replied. "Oh—the keys to the trunk, right. Hey, Mum, Dad found this old trunk of yours up in the attic. He wanted the keys to it," August asked his mum. Neville just rolled his eyes at his son.

"I'm telling you, they switched up kids in the hospital when he was born," Francesca told her dad, which earned her a shove from her brother.

"I haven't opened this trunk since we moved in here. Been like twenty-two years since that. I think I have the key somewhere," Pansy said, opening one of the drawers in the wooden desk. She got out a bunch of antique-looking keys. "Try one of these."

"Why don't you just use the Alohomora charm?" August asked.

"It's an ancestral trunk. My father used this trunk for—well, things we don't need to talk about. Although your grandmother cleared out most of the dark magic, the privacy charms were too strong, and it can only be opened by the key," Pansy explained.

"Isn't that how a regular muggle trunk works?" Francesca said. "You can open that trunk with a simple Alohomora; you can't open this with any of the charms that exist."

After Pansy opened the trunk, Neville gave her a look, a question of permission. She agreed. Neville rummaged through the trunk, finding old books, old cardigans, photo albums, sweaters, and jewelry.

"Hey Mum, what's this?" August asked, digging his hand deep into the trunk. He revealed a ring with a snake carved into the letter P. It was quite small, but August thought his mum was always on the shorter side, which was ironic because his father was quite tall.

"Ah, that's my family's signet ring," Pansy said, with a look of disgust.

"A what ring?" Francesca asked.

"A signet ring. Previously, the heir to a pureblood family was given a ring with the family's crest on it," Pansy explained.

"What significance did it have?" Francesca further enquired.

"Well, now it holds no significance, but back in my parents' generation, where arranged marriages were quite common, the man usually gave his signet ring or the family locket to his betrothed as a symbol of promise and love," Pansy explained, slowly rubbing her thumb over the signet ring.

"Weren't most of them just marriages of convenience where they'd have extramarital affairs of some sort?" August snorted. Francesca and Neville burst out laughing at this.

"Honestly, August, think before you speak—but yes, you're not entirely wrong. But think before you speak," Pansy scolded her son while trying to hide her smile.

"Dad, do you not have a signet ring?" Francesca asked, looking up at Neville. He shook his head.

"My Nan gave me the one my dad wore after the war when she saw me 'worthy' of it, but I seemed to have lost it in my early days of teaching at Hogwarts."

"She gave it to you because she wanted you to give it to Hannah Abbott as a symbol of promise when she was trying to set you up with her," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. Even after being married to Neville for twenty years, she was still very possessive of him. She knew that her husband was a war hero, that she had been on the wrong side, and that women of all ages tried to suck up to her Neville. She tried to act as if it didn't bother her, but it did. Neville always told her that he was always hers and no one else's, but Pansy would always say he had the best glow-up in history and that everyone was going to eye him up and down like a piece of meat.

"You're still jealous? Parks, I thought you'd be over that. It's been twenty-two years since that," Neville said, laughing affectionately, pulling his wife to sit on his lap.

"WAIT, what do you mean set you up with Ms. Abbott? The Leaky Cauldron's Hannah Abbott? You were supposed to marry her?" Francesca asked, not believing what she'd just heard.

"Free butterbeer for life, that sounds so cool. No offense, Mum," August said, as Pansy raised her eyebrow at him.

"What did you bring to the table, Mum, so much so that ol' Herbology Daddy Dearest here ran behind you instead of lovely Ms. Abbott?" Francesca asked. Pansy was super offended at this, but not in a bad way. She knew her kids loved teasing her, a trait they'd gotten from their father.

"It's not about what one brings to the table, Francie. It's about the love, it's about—" Neville started saying before August interrupted.

"I'll answer that for you, Francesca. Two words: ancestral inheritance. That's what Mum brought to the table."

"Are you calling me a gold digger, August Longbottom?" Neville asked his son.

"Indeed, yes, I am," he said, laughing and cackling.

"Ancestral inheritance, and probably the fact that he'd gotten Mum pregnant, which left them no choice," Francesca said.

"Honestly, you two are talking as if you're our parents, and not our children," Pansy said, getting up from Neville's lap, to which Neville made a pout at her.

"Well then, tell us, how exactly did Dad almost get married to someone else?" Francesca asked.

**************

Pansy had recently marked her fifth year of teaching at Hogwarts, which meant it had been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Those six years felt like six decades to her, as she had changed for the greater good, cutting off ties with her Death Eater father and helping her mother tip off the Ministry about his and several other Death Eaters' locations.

For Neville, he had just completed his first year of teaching at Hogwarts and knew he had found his forever passion. Within the first few months of teaching, he was unofficially crowned "Teacher of the Year" by the student body.

Between Pansy and Neville, there had been 'tension,' and not the bad kind—the kind where there's an unspoken agreement to leave any party together and wake up in the same bed the next day, only to pretend they were just colleagues until the next gathering. It was a full circle.

"Professor Longbottom? You've missed your morning mail," a fifth-year student said, interrupting the Herbology class with the second-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper, but I'd be happy if you decided to knock next time," Neville said, smiling at the student. The student rubbed his hand behind his neck with embarrassment.

Neville tucked the letter safely into his pocket and resumed teaching the class.

Meanwhile, at the other end of Hogwarts, Professor Parkinson was brewing a potion. This didn't seem unusual for a Potions Master, but the potion was for a test—a pregnancy test. Pansy had suspected she was pregnant when she'd missed her period twice. She had assumed it was due to stress, but now she had a hunch.

She considered going to Madam Pomfrey because she would have the potion, and this wouldn't be the first time someone had gotten pregnant on the premises. But then she knew Madam Pomfrey would gossip about it to Madam Pince, to Madam Hooch, and then to the students. She decided it was safer to do it herself.

"Just two more minutes, and I'll have the result," she muttered as she gulped down the potion and waited.

"When my abdomen starts to glow golden, that means I'm with child. If it doesn't do anything, I'm not pregnant." She waited, glancing down at her stomach. She knew she was pregnant and who the father was.

Her abdomen started to glow with a very bright golden hue. Pansy didn't know how to feel. She was happy, yes, but she wasn't nervous because she knew she could care for this baby even if the father refused to.

"Well, I better let him know," she said, getting off the stool and walking towards the brighter side of Hogwarts, where the clink of her abnormally high heels was lost among the chattering of students and the chirps of the birds.

She went to the greenhouses. Neville hadn’t dismissed his class yet, but he saw her and came outside. "I have half an hour of class left," he said. "You could wait in my quarters."

So she went up to his quarters and started wandering around. "It’s much bigger than my quarters," she murmured. "He’s got an extra study attached." She entered the study and seated herself in the leather chair, noticing a letter and a box on the desk.

She tried hard not to open it, but the Slytherin in her thought, "Fuck it, I’m the mother of his child." She justified her actions and opened the letter.

"Dear Neville,

How have you been, dearest? Great Aunt Agatha was asking about you a few days back when she came around for tea. You’ll turn twenty-four within a few months, and I’m not getting any younger either. My last wish would be to see you with a wife.

Agatha suggested that she’d look into pureblooded families, although there are very few of them left. She thought it’d be best to keep it within. She has a friend whose great-niece was in your year. Lovely woman.

Miss Hannah Abbott? She’s the barmaid of the Leaky Cauldron.

I was a little doubtful, considering it’s not the most conventional career, but from what I’ve heard, she’s made the Leaky into a lush, green, welcoming lodge. I’m suggesting that you meet her soon. Not pressuring, but it’d be good to see you with someone nice.

Also, I found your father’s signet ring, which belonged to my husband, your grandad. I think when it’s time, you can give it to your someone special. If all goes well, maybe I’ll see Hannah wearing this by Christmas time?

All my love, Gran."

Pansy felt a pang of jealousy. Hannah Abbott was indeed pretty, a short blonde Hufflepuff who radiated innocence. Which guy wouldn’t like that? She didn’t know what got into her. She picked up the box holding the signet ring and stuffed it in her skirt pocket.

Running out of the study, she stood in front of the quarters instead of going in, to prevent suspicion.

"Parks, you could’ve waited inside. Nothing you haven’t seen before," Neville said, winking at the shorter woman. She huffed in annoyance and followed him inside, acting as if it were her first time back here today. "Your room is a lot larger than mine. Clearly, McGonagall played favorites," she muttered. He just laughed, undoing his tie a little and rolling up his sleeves.

"Perks of being a Herbology professor. But Sprout did have it all with yarn and patchwork pieces I had to clean," he said as he sat on one of the leather couches.

"What's that?" Pansy asked, pointing at his robe pocket, where the letter Neville had entirely forgotten about was tucked. The one his nan sent, probably 'sweetly' forcing him into a courtship with Hannah Abbott.

"Something my nan sent. Besides, you wanted to talk?" He focused on her.

"No, no, I can wait. Write back to her," she urged him. He got up, and she followed him into the study.

"Another letter?" she asked Neville as he sighed, sitting in the chair and reading it to himself.

"Dear Nev,

I spoke to the Abbott family. They are wonderful people, none of the pureblood superiority nonsense. They just want a strong, nice man for their only daughter.

Although they did remind me, she might be a little sensitive, considering she just got out of a courtship with one of the Oolong boys. I suggest you meet her tomorrow. She's coming around to Hogsmeade to look around the Three Broomsticks.

Love,

Gran"

"Abbott, huh? Sexy," Pansy whistled as she read the letter over Neville's shoulder. He looked at her, rolled his eyes, and said, "Privacy?"

She shook her head in response and asked, "Are you going to go? I mean—to Hogsmeade to meet Abbott?"

"I don't know," Neville said unsurely. "I think I should meet her. Gran and Great Aunt Agatha might stay away from my path then."

"I think you should. Abbott is lovely. She'd make you a lovely housewife with four wonderful little blondies and brunettes toddling around," Pansy said jokingly.

"Lovely? Parks, you realize that this is the same Hannah Abbott you bullied during our years at Hogwarts because she was 'curvier' than you were. You literally dunked her head in the girls' toilet," Neville said, amused.

"That was eight years ago. Besides, I'm much curvier now, and I'm a changed woman," Pansy scoffed.

"You know it shouldn't really bother you who's curvy and who's not. It doesn't really matter," Neville said, furrowing his eyebrows. The things he said made her go weak in her knees.

"Yada yada, Longbottom. Go on the date, score a pretty blonde. Besides, you're getting old. The Potters are expecting their first kid by February. You're hanging back," Pansy tutted, knowing deep inside how much she wanted him to NOT go.

"Parks, you're older than me. Aren't you hanging back?" Neville retorted.

"My friends haven't had kids yet. Well, everyone except Zabini. His wife gave birth to the HOTTEST kid alive, Caesar. And before you stop me, that kid is liquid fire, I'm telling you."

"So are you going to go?" she prompted.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked, stepping close to her.

"It's not what I want; it's what you want," she said.

"I want what you want."

"Excuse me?" she asked, surprised. Yes, she wanted him to not go, but this was sudden. She had loved Neville, and every moment she spent with him, she loved him more. But she refused to acknowledge that. She assumed she would end up co-parenting alongside Neville.

"You heard me. If you want me to go, I'll go," he said casually. Pansy was getting angry. She didn't know why, but she was. Hormones maybe? She was, after all, two months along.

"Go, I don't care," she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the door.

"Have you seen my ring?" he asked. As she turned back, he was frantically searching for the package that was hidden deep inside her skirt pocket.

"You're going to propose to her?" she asked.

"No, it's my dad's ring. Gran sent it over," he said, looking in the drawers. She took off her own signet ring from her ring finger, held his hand, and placed the ring in his palm.

"You can give this to her," she said as she walked away.

"Parks, that's not how it work—" Neville's voice was cut off by the thud of the door shutting.

***********

"Hannah, you seem amazing, but—" Neville started, but Hannah cut him off.

"But your heart resides with another," she said understandingly.

"Not exactly, but somewhat along those lines," he exhaled.

His mind was running with thoughts of the short Potions professor, how she had avoided him for the entire day without even telling him the 'important' thing she wanted to share in the first place.

"Pansy, right? Parkinson," Hannah said. Neville looked confused. "Your heart, it belongs to Pansy. You love that woman," she said, smiling.

"I guess so. How'd you figure?" he asked, intrigued.

"You're preventing blood flow to your pinkie because of her ring. Besides, her giving you the Parkinson signet is a way of telling you that she will forever love you, no matter what."

Oh. Neville didn't know that.

"Hey, Abbott, I have to go," he said, getting up and throwing some coins on the table, then frantically running to the castle, drawing several looks from students visiting Hogsmeade that weekend.

Neville knocked on Pansy's door. "Parks, come on, open up, please."

"Honestly, can't a woman rest? I'm fatigued, Professor Longbottom," Pansy said sternly as she opened the door, dressed in her nightgown.

"The ring," Neville panted. Pansy thought he had figured out that she had nicked his signet ring from his office.

"What ring?" she replied nonchalantly.

"Your family ring. What does it mean? The custom," he questioned.

"Oh, something along the lines of promise, true love," she said.

"And you gave yours to me when I couldn't find mine. What does that mean?" Neville asked.

"It could mean two things: either I'm a very good friend who wants you and Abbott to get engaged, or it could mean that I will love you no matter who else you love," she said monotonously, as if she hadn't just potentially confessed her love for Neville.

"You what—wait, let me just rewind. You just said you love me? Is that right, Parkinson? Well, fifty percent chance," Neville asked, slowly regaining his composure.

"Yes, I might. Big deal," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. These maternity potions have been taking my energy off," she said, closing the door.

After two seconds, Neville realized what she'd just said. "You're pregnant?"

"Why else would I be taking maternity potions? Oh, also, it's yours. The child. You're the father," she replied, shocking Neville once again.

"What? Wow. You're not scared? I mean, I'm really happy. I'd love to be part of this. Let me help you in any way. This is great news, Pansy," he rambled.

"Nev, the best help you can give right now is probably to allow me to get some rest. Also, you could get me those herbal tea leaves you have in your quarters, and then maybe you'd like to join me in here?" Pansy questioned, the last part tinting her cheeks red.

Neville nodded and took off to his room.

"Wait, are you still on with Abbott?" Pansy asked.

"I left her midway so I could come here, so I don't think so," Neville replied.

"That's great, not the leaving her alone part, though. You've got to apologize."

***************

"Wait, so you stole my signet ring?" Neville asked his wife, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Wow, he's really getting old, huh? Mum's mentioned that probably eight times, and he asks her that question," August whispered to his sister, causing her to giggle.

"I heard that, August Longbottom," Neville said, not looking away from his wife, who was now avoiding the question.

"Come on, Dad, it's been like twenty years. Bet you forgot about the ring before this," Francesca reasoned.

"I did think about it. When I wanted to propose, I had to get Gran's ring, which wasn't really modern-looking," Neville told her.

"I love your Gran's ring. Besides, if you want the signet ring back so bad, I'll get it for you," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe that I am her son, y'know?" August piped up as Pansy left to get her jewelry box.

"Because you're not. You're adopted. In fact, on a rainy day, we found you outside the house," Francesca teased her brother.

"Doesn't rain during March, genius," Neville said, shaking his head.

"Here, take your lovely signet back, Longbottom," Pansy said, handing it back to him, probably after twenty years.

"Honey, it was always yours to keep, but I'd have been happier to give it to you myself," Neville said, hugging his wife.

"When I found out I was pregnant with Alice, I thought you wouldn't want to be part of her life, considering you had the fame, and women, and men running behind you. So, I took it as a keepsake for Alice," Pansy whispered.

"I'm hurt you'd think that. I love you, Pansy Parkinson. I always will."

"Nev?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Longbottom now," she said, rising up on her tiptoes and kissing him.

"And here I thought you'd say you love me too," Neville said, laughing.

"If she didn't, neither one of us would be here," August said, causing everyone to laugh.

"Also, I think we should give the ring to Alice, considering it was nicked for her," August continued.

"She has her whole life left to give a promise to the one she really loves," Neville said, getting a little overprotective.

"Yeah, she could give it to Fred," Francesca said. Pansy and Neville gave her a confused look. "Come on, it's been like five years since they've been together. Who do you think is her roommate back in Australia? Fred Weasley the second."

"Nev? I think we need to have a talk with Alice once she's home again," Pansy said after a while.

"And I need to talk with Fred," he replied.

August and Francesca gave each other a knowing look, realizing they'd just thrown their sister under the bus.

[gilthoniel94]

Hot Stuff (I'm Not Talking About Tea).

They have been careful. It all started with stolen glances and now they are stealing kisses here and there, when they make sure no one is around. Not because they don't want anyone to know. They could shout from the highest mountain their feelings for each other, but they decided to keep it for themselves for a while, let it be just their little secret. They are good at hiding and pretending, they are just close friends enjoying their time together and working to make a better world.

His office has become their favorite place to hide. People think that they are discussing politics and restoration plans for all the nations. Surely they do that too, but when the ambience gets too electrifying and charged with emotions, they have to act on it. And that's what just happened on this beautiful Spring morning. The birds were singing a beautiful melody and the cherry blossom trees had started to bloom, just like their romance. They were just talking about the need for more public hospitals and then, she was sitting on his lap with both her hands on the slope of his neck. His hands were one on her hip and the other one on her waist, grasping firmly, like never wanting to let go. Mouths clashing, tongues dancing, teeth biting soft wet lips. They got lost in space and time, the world around them was just a blur.

They just stopped for a moment to take some air, panting and breathing heavily. They looked into each other's eyes, so many emotions that not even the most talented poet could put into words. After a while, Zuko spoke.

"I want to recite you a poem I read yesterday and it made me think of you. Actually, I'm all the time thinking about you even when I think I'm not thinking at all. All my thoughts fly to you."

She stared at him with the brightest and deepest blue eyes and the softest kindest of smiles. Shit, he was doomed and deeply in loooo... No he doesn't want to think of that word yet. He doesn't want to scare her away. It has been just two weeks since their confession and agreement to start slowly and take time for things to develop smoothly. Love was a heavy word, at least right now. But he couldn't find another word to describe the turmoil inside his heart. Devotion? It was beyond that. Want? Sure, but that word seemed so superficial right now. Longing? What he has been feeling for the last 7 years. But it was way more than that.

Her voice took him out of his thoughts.

"Then I shall listen to it, Fire Lord." She leaned and kissed him softly on his scar. Damn, damn, damn. She is making things more difficult.

"Ok but don't laugh. You know I'm not good with words at all."

She laughed, and something mischievous glinted behind her eyes.

"Sure you are. Remember how you confessed? I think you have the smoothness of a tigerdillo."

"Come on, stop mocking me. I was a nervous wreck. I thought I was going to vomit and then pass out in front of you."

"Yeah, I thought that too. You were pale as a ghost. All the color came back to your face when I said that I felt the same way about you. But it wasn't any different for me, you know. I was trembling and shaking. That's why I was holding my hands so tightly. I didn't want you to notice and make you more nervous."

"But in the end, it all turned out well. Right?" He smiled and she thought that his eyes were like two little suns warming her soul. And his smile, so rare to see but she knew that it came with all the sincerity he had. He doesn't smile for everyone. He just does that for her, for Iroh, his mom, his sisters and their friends. But the smiles that were meant just for her were something unique.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't change a thing. It was perfect and it is perfect right now. I am just sad that we won't be able to be on a proper date for a while. But it's for the best. The world will go crazy once everyone finds out that the Water Tribe Ambassador and the Fire Lord became more than allies, and I'm not ready for that just yet. I want to enjoy all of this and keep it just for us for a moment."

"Don't worry, I feel the same. Even though I want to tell everyone, at the same time I want this little peace we have right now."

"I agree. So, the poem?"

"Right, the poem. Firstly, I want to make a promise here and now. I will read you a poem every day of our time together. For as long as you have me, you will have to endure the pain of listening to me reciting poetry. That's what you get for being so beautiful, smart, courageous, brave and for not leaving my thoughts all day."

She laughed a little too loud and then clapped her hand over her mouth. It was music for his ears, but they had to be quiet to avoid gossiping ears.

"Sorry, you just say the dumbest things sometimes. So wise and yet so dummy, Fire Lord."

"Hey, I never said I am wise. Okay here I go. I don't know if I will be able to hold your gaze so I think I'll close my eyes and just do it. I promise that with time, I will look you in the eye while I recite. I just need to get a hold of my nerves."

"It's ok. Don't worry about that. We have all the time in the world to get to that. I will also close my eyes to make you feel comfortable and focus on your voice and not your lips."

"Really smooth. I could learn from you, master Katara. How many men have been eating from your hand?"

"You should. And so many I can't count but only you have my heart" she said and then closed her eyes. "Ok, I'm ready."

He also closed his eyes, took a deep breath and started reciting, slowly not wanting to mess any single word:

"You are a promise

You are a song

Smooth like a waterfall

A sea in the calm.

You are the summer

You are the sun

You are the desert plain

Where the wild horses run.

Deep as a valley

Sweet as a stream

Dark as a storm cloud

And bright as a dream

You are what I long for

You are what I need

When it's You and I

Then my heart can sing

When it's You and I

Then my soul is free.

You are all my life

You are all my strength

You are all my hope

You are everything"

He starts to slowly open his eyes and is received by hers, all round and open and shining with unshed happy tears. She doesn't say a word, her tongue is tied. She just acts on impulse. Suddenly she decides that sitting on his lap is not enough and positions to straddle him, so that he can put his hands on her hips. And then she kisses him fiercely, with the strength of a tsunami, powerful waves of emotions crashing and destroying every single doubt and fear that were left in their hearts.

This is the most passionate kiss they have shared since it all started. She can't keep her hands still. For a moment, they are holding his handsome face, then they get at the back of his head to finally start grasping firmly his soft and long hair. She can't get enough of him. She wanted to get lost in him, forever. In his eyes, in his lips, in his scent, his skin. Just let him melt her and warm her for the rest of their lives. She loved him, she was sure. She had loved him for years. She had dreamt of this for a while and now, it became reality. The grasp on her hips and the way he caressed her back grounded her and helped her realize it all was real and not just a dream again.

And then, the door started to open, and panic took over them. They were sure they had locked it but it seems that they were so eager to be alone that they let go of this tiny yet important detail. With all the ability that her body could gather after what happened moments ago between them, she made her way to her chair and grabbed the book that she has been pretending to read all the times when someone knocked on the door, opening it on whatever page and reading whatever was written, covering her face to hide her burning cheeks. Zuko, on the other side, composed himself quickly and grabbed his pen and started passing pages and pages of documents, as if looking for something in particular.

She took a glance just above the book to see who had interrupted the most amazing kiss she ever had. Of course, it was Iroh. Smiling brightly and openly, carrying a tray with a steaming kettle and two delicate cups.

"Good morning, nephew. I brought you tea to calm your racing mind. I know you have been working a lot lately. Oh, miss Katara! Good morning to you too", he said like he hadn't noticed her before. Then he served the tea he brought and passed their cups. "Your beauty blesses my tired old eyes on this warm Spring morning. So good I brought two cups. One was meant for me but I gladly give it to you now. I thought that being this early, my nephew would be all alone here and I came to pay him company."

"Good morning, Iroh. Yes, we decided to start our duties a little earlier today. And thank you for your compliment. You know, Fire Lord Zuko could learn more of your way with words. By now he could be married to a nice lady." She let go of her book and took the cup Iroh offered and sipped from it, enjoying the honeyish taste and sighed in satisfaction. "Delicious tea, as always."

Zuko grunted and took his eyes off of the documents that he was (pretending) reading, an accusatory look shot at her and she responded with an apologetic gaze, like saying: "sorry, I have to play my part".

Iroh laughed wholeheartedly. "Oh dear. I know, I know. I have even tried to make him read poetry too. I am also sure that by now, if he listened to me, he would be married to a beautiful lady and start giving me and Ursa lots of grandchildren."

"Yeah, I'm sure of that." Zuko said harshly, while taking a sip of tea. "Uncle, thanks for the tea but if you don't mind we have so much work to do. We want to finish it so we can see you later and have breakfast with my mom and my sisters."

"Of course, nephew. I am sorry, I won't be delaying you any longer. And Zuko, be careful with the hot stuff. Your lips are all red and swollen. And I'm not talking about tea." With that he winked at them and left the office as fast as a bolt.

And they were left there, at a loss for words. It seems they weren't so careful in the end.

NOTE 1: So I have been a sailor on this ship for how long? 19 years or so but haven't written anything even tho I had so many ideas running through my head.

I don't know why, at 30 years old, married and with a 18 month old baby boy I decided to act on it. I think it will be my only fanfic cause I honestly don't have all the time and energy in the world right now (motherhood and house stuff is so tiring), but I don't want to regret not writing at least this little thing for these two idiots I love. I hope you enjoy this piece of my mind. Thank you for your time and I want to apologize in advance if my writing is not so good. English is not my first language so I'm sure there will be mistakes.

NOTE 2: The poem Zuko recites is composed by two songs: "You" and "You and I", both by Future of Forestry. I do not own any of them.