#but it takes kicking anxious thoughts out first so i need extra time to gather energy for it

[caeloservare]

// not to disturb your sunday dash, but I gotta share that I've updated a folder when I keep screeshtos of my friends saying nice things about me. I'm really glad I grew enough to have strength to peek there and read it when I feel down, because I've started the folder a few years ago.

And I am grateful. Really, really grateful for everyone who is there. Even if they're no longer friends, I'm glad they were at the time. Even if we don't talk anymore and I miss chatting with them horribly, I'm glad they were there at the time. Even if some of them will never see this post, I hope they know I loved them and cared deeply for them, just like I still do for all friends around me. I really hope that my friends, including you reading this, know how precious you all are to me.

Love you all dearly <3

[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

                                                             *  *  *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

                                                            *  *  *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

 Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor.  And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...

[beauvibaby]

figure it out – f.andersen

summary: Freddie andersen falls for his sons nanny or his sons nanny falls for him

warnings: brief smut towards the end, oh and I didn’t proofread this 😅

You stepped out of the car with a nervous smile, you could spot the tall guy with the red hair a mile away, his back was towards you as he pushed his son on the swing.

“He’s a great guy, you’ll get along great, his son is the sweetest.” Your friends words rang through your mind as you smoothed out your blouse, “Mr. Andersen?” You called softly as you approached the swing set, he glanced over his shoulder as he caught his sons swing, the three year old turned to look as well, a smile forming on his face. “Y/N?” Freddie spoke, helping his son hop down. “The one and only.” You laughed, squatting to the little boys height, “I’ve been told that your name is, oh let me think.” You teased, rubbing your chin in thought, the boy giggled at you, hugging the side of his fathers leg, “is your name, Joseph?” You concluded, watching him nod brightly. “Joey.” He mumbled, cheeks flushing pink as his dad ruffled his hair. You held your hand out for the young boy, “my name is Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Joey.” You watched as he hesitantly grabbed your hand, giving it a small shake.

“Call me Freddie.” His dad spoke as you stood to your full height, “go play while Miss Y/N and I talk, ok?” Freddie spoke to his son who bounded off to the playground where other kids were playing. You sat down across from him at one of the tables, and your friend was right, she was so right. You and Freddie got along very well, which is so important as a nanny, you need to feel comfortable and be able to talk to the parents you work with. He hired you on the spot, anxious to have you start, the season was just about to kick off, and so he wanted to have you on for a few weeks before he had to start traveling. This was what you did full time, so your schedule was fully open, and of course he told you if you ever felt like it was too much or you needed days off, to tell him, you assured him you would be fine.

It was a few days later when you went to his home,Joey was at preschool, needing to be picked up soon and you were going to go with Freddie so you could be added to the list of people allowed to pick up his son. First though, he showed you around the house, where everything was, what Joey normally liked to do, and eat, assuring you that you were welcome to anything you’d like as well, which everyone always said but you never indulged in. “The pool, he loves to go swimming, but he’s not good at it, but I’m fine with you taking him if you don’t mind going in with him.” Freddie explained as he stepped out onto the patio, his condo overlooking the complex pool. You nodded with a smile, “I think I could handle that.” You laughed breathily as Freddie glanced over at you. “I’ve got an extra car seat, I can put it in for you if you’d like.” He spoke on his way out, knowing you needed one for picking up and driving Joey. “Oh, that would be great, please.” You answered softly, he nodded, grabbing it out of the closet before following you down to your car.

He quickly installed it and you followed him to the school, “Joey is really excited to see you, he didn’t stop talking about you.” Freddie admitted as he opened the door for you, a small thank you fell from your lips, “that’s sweet, I’m excited to see him.” You grinned, it was quite simple to add you to the list, and then you were off to his classroom, following behind Freddie as he knew his way around the school, it was relatively small, so you knew it wouldn’t be too bad once you got used to it.

“Joey, your dads here.” You heard an older woman speak from inside, you stepped up beside Freddie watching Joey look over and see you both standing there. Joey grabbed his bag and ran over, squeezing his fathers legs as the teacher smiled at you, you took the moment to introduce yourself, telling her you’d be taking care of Joey when Freddie was working, so she’d be seeing more of you. You went your separate ways as Joey tugged on your hand, insisting he tell you about his day as you walked alongside him and his dad. You listened intently, throwing in commentary whenever it was required, getting giggles from the young boy who looked much like his father, except slightly lighter hair, strawberry blonde you could say.

“Alright, Joey. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m going to pick you up while your dad works, alright?” You spoke to him, he nodded with bright eyes, climbing into his seat in his dads car. “Bye, Y/N.” Freddie smiled as you began walking to your car, “bye!” You called giddily, excited for your first real day with them, it had been hard when you had to move on from the last family you watched, but this made it exciting all over again.

***

“Alright, Joey, what should we do first?” You asked the four year old as you slipped off his and yours shoes by the front door, “can I have a snack?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “Of course!” You smiled down at him, giggling as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the kitchen, as if you didn’t know where it was, you let him have the moment. “Goldfish?” He asked hopefully, you nodded and pulled them out for him, tearing the top open on the snack size bag. “Thank you.” He skipped his way to the living room with his bag, Freddie told you he was pretty relaxed about tv time, considering Joey wasn’t very interested in it, mostly watching an episode or two of one of his kid shows before being too antsy to sit still. “What’s your favorite color?” He asked, sitting directly beside you on the couch. “Purple, yours?” You responded, shifting to be facing him, “green!” He answered with a goldfish in his mouth. “I’m sure your dad has told you not to talk with your mouth full.” You teased him, he nodded with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his hand as he murmured an apology. “It’s ok, bud.” You pushed his floppy hair back.

He subconsciously leaned into your hand, and you often wondered if he’s ever had a stable woman figure in his life. Freddie very briefly mentioned his mother, only saying that they don’t speak of her, especially around Joey. “Don’t eat too much, your dad should be home in time for you to have dinner with him.” You reminded the young boy as he continued to munch on the cracker snacks. “Ok, I’m done.” He announced, climbing off the couch and going to put his bag in the trash, you held in a giggle at the way he was so confident in it, it was purely adorable. “Do you want to color?” You offered to him as he came over and stared blankly at you. “Yeah.” He jumped up and down. “Come on miss Y/N.” He cheered, rushing down the hall to his room. You came to the conclusion that he would keep you on your toes, in the best possible way. You spent the rest of the day doing small activities, coloring, playing with building blocks, all the way down to Joey falling asleep curled into your side when Freddie walked in from a late afternoon practice. You shushed him immediately, watching his eyebrows raise as he stepped in closer to see his son asleep under your arm.

“Was he good?” Freddie whispered, squatting in front of the couch, pushing a hand through his sons hair. “So good, he’s an easy kid.” You responded, watching Joey whine and lean away from his dads touch, not really aware of who it was. “Joey, you gotta get up otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.” Freddie explained, running his thumb over his sons chubby cheek. The boy huffed, fluttering his eyes open, reaching for his dad who only grinned, welcoming him with open arms. “Did you have fun with Miss Y/N?” He asked Joey, that seemed to wake the boy up, “yes! She’s so much fun.” He wiggled in his dad's arms, “I have to show you something.” Freddie laughed at Joey’s demand, setting him down and watching him run off. You stood, beginning to gather your things, “tomorrow I have to leave a little earlier than I thought, can you do dinner for him?” Freddie hated to begin placing you under his ever changing schedule, but you knew it was part of the job, you understood what he did, and you knew it required you to be understanding with his schedule. “Of course.” You assured him, looking over as you hear Joey running back over. He showed his dad the drawing you two had done together. “For you.” He spoke to Freddie, giving him the paper.

You made sure you had all your things as they had their little moment.

***

The next few months went on like this, the three of you growing closer, becoming very comfortable with each other, you and Freddie speaking easily, whether it directly related to Joey or not, never inappropriate, he would just tell you something that happened on his road trip, little things.

Freddie was on the road when Joey caught a stomach bug at school, you rushed to pick him up, after the school had called you when Freddie hadn’t answered, he called you frantically as you were carrying Joey through the front door. “It’s alright, I got him.” You assured the frantic father, he started to say he could come home and you instantly gasped. “No! You guys are playing great, I can handle a stomach bug, he’ll be one hundred percent better when you get home.” You assured him, letting him talk to Joey who was half asleep in your arms after throwing up as soon as he had gotten out of your car. The rest of that night was spent with a mini trash can at your feet as Joey was clingy and sticky from sweating, you kissed his warm forehead, shushing him as he sniffled, complaining of his throat burning. “I know bud, come on, let’s get you some water and then try to get some sleep.” You soothed him, carefully standing with him hugging you tightly. “I’m hungry.” He curled into himself as you set him on the counter so you could grab some water for his cup. “Did you want to have some toast? That’ll make your tummy feel better.” You offered to him, he gave you a weak nod as his clammy skin sat against the cool marble countertops.

Eventually he went to bed, feeling a little better, but you left him shirtless, and turned his fan up a speed as he was still running pretty warm, and left his door and yours open so you could hear him better if he woke in the middle of the night, which he did. Emptying his stomach before he could even process what happened, one cleanup later, he was laying beside you in the guest room, the poor boy too nervous to sleep on his own after that. You tossed and turned most of the night as he finally slept, feeling the nausea begin to hit you.

You were able to keep it at bay until the morning, when you woke up to sprint to the bathroom, cringing as you woke Joey in the process. He stayed in the bed, looking towards the bathroom in concern. “Miss Y/N.” He called softly, his feet hitting the floor as he slid off the bed, “I’m fine bub, I’ll be out in a minute.” You spoke as you finally caught your breath, he peeked his head in, frowning as he saw you hunched down over the toilet. He tiptoed in and placed his hand on his back, rubbing it like you had been doing to him the night before. “Oh,” you gasped softly, quickly flushing the toilet and standing up, “are you sick?” He asked with a pout, following you to the sink where you brushed your teeth as the tiredness sat in. “No, no, I’m fine.” You assured him, fake it until you make it right?

You were proved so wrong as the day went on and Joey got his energy back, of course it was a Saturday so he didn’t have school, so he was bouncing off the walls all day while you tried to keep up, telling yourself that Freddie would be back this evening and you’d be able to go home and rest in your own home, not having to worry about a child walking in on you puking. “Miss Y/N got sick from me daddy.” Joey cried to his father as he came in, you’d unknowingly fallen asleep on the couch, but shooting awake when you heard the strangled cry from Joey. “Joey! Joey.” You gasped eyes darting around the room, guilt immediately hitting you when you saw him crying into Freddie’s shoulder as the ginger haired man looked at you in concern. Your heart broke as Joey cried, apologizing for getting you sick. “Oh no, honey.” You cooed, walking over to him, swallowing down your upset stomach, though you were certain by now there was nothing left in it. “It’s alright, I took care of you knowing I could get sick, and I did that because I really really care about you.” You explained to him, placing a hand on his back so he would lift his head from Freddie’s shoulder. “Ok.” He sniffled, “I love you.” The small boy whispered with a sheepish smile, Freddie froze, glancing at his son in shock, “I love you too bud.” You smiled at him, easing Freddie’s worries that it would scare you off. It was common for kids to say that, especially when they spent so much time with someone.

“Are you sure you’re ok to drive home?” Freddie asked as you grabbed your things, you nodded weakly, shooting him a smile, he mirrored it wearily. “Be careful.” He bid you a goodbye, telling you to take the next couple of days to recoup, he only had one practice, and he said he would figure something out with Joey.

When you got home you crashed immediately, but you’d find yourself waking up the next morning to a text from Freddie questioning if you got home safely.

***

A few more weeks had passed, and tonight you were taking Joey to a Leafs game, per his request and Freddie’s agreement. You were both excited, and Freddie would be lying if he said he didn’t find the excitement adorable. He found himself gifting you with a leafs jersey, a plain jersey, despite how badly he was itching to see you in his number. He felt wrong to feel the way he did for you, you were his sons nanny, it was cliche and all the things he never wanted to happen. But he couldn’t help it, you were so incredibly beautiful in his eyes, and the fact that Joey loved you and loved being around you, only made him fall farther and faster. He could see a life with you, with the three of you all together, but he couldn’t say that, he couldn’t risk scaring you off and making his son upset– Joey came before everything, even if it meant he had to hide his feelings for you.

“Woo!” You cheered as the teams skated out for the final period, the leafs up by three, Joey was jumping excitedly beside you, clapping and shouting as his dad waved in the direction of your seats. It warmed your heart as you hoisted him up to your hip so he could see better. They went on to win the game, Freddie nearly getting a shutout, but a puck slipped passed him at the last second. You and Joey were cheering louder than everyone else, or so it seemed to you as you let the young boy bang his hand on the glass, Auston came by, smiling brightly at you, having never properly met you, but he knew oh so much about you.

You did as Freddie said and told the security guard your name and pulled Joey along to the hallway outside the locker rooms. The two of you sitting slumped against the wall as you waited what felt like an eternity for them to start emerging, Auston, one of the few you felt like you knew fairly well from Freddie’s stories, was first, coming over and introducing himself as Joey jumped into his “uncles” arms. You smiled at the sight, “oh, so he did chicken out, got you a plain jersey.” Auston spoke up, your cheeks burned with heat, “what?” You asked softly, Freddie saw the two of you talking and began to panic and started speed walking over, Auston went to speak but Joey shouted for his dad and it distracted him. “Hey buddy.” Freddie grinned, hugging his son tightly, smiling over at you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” Auston mumbled, smiling slyly as he backed away, leaving the three of you alone. “Good game.” You smiled up at him, Joey kissing his dad's cheek with a grin, his jersey cuffed so his hands were free. “Thank you.” Freddie answered, something a little different in his smile, you took notice of that as you checked the time. “You should head out, don’t you have that thing with your mom tomorrow?” Freddie spoke up, sending your heart into a flutter. You did a double take, hardly even remembering how you’d mentioned that to him earlier in the week, making sure you’d have the day off. “I-uh, yeah, I do. You remembered?” You couldn’t help but let the words fall past your lips as Joey started drifting off with his head on Freddie’s shoulder.

“Of course I did.” He admitted, with a pink tint to his cheeks as he adjusted his arms around Joey. “Thank you, goodnight Freddie, goodnight, J.” You whispered to the half asleep boy, he smiled nuzzling his head closer to his dad, giving you a sleepy wave. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Freddie responded as you started walking off.

You told yourself it was nothing on the drive home, that he was just being polite, that his smile wasn't different even though it definitely was.

***

Auston stared at his older friend incredulously, “it’s family skate!” Freddie protested, Auston raised his eyebrows, “so? She’s family by now isn’t she? Even if you didn’t feel like this for her she’s basically another parent to Joey.” He pointed out, watching the ginger shake his head with a groan. “What if she thinks it’s weird?” Freddie questioned, once again Auston sighed, shaking his head. “Believe, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way for you. She definitely won’t make a move because if she does she’s the one who could lose her job.” Auston reminded him before changing the subject, no longer wanting to argue with the stubborn man.

***

“I don’t know how to skate.” You blurted at the last second, Freddie and Joey looking at you shocked, he’d asked you to go to the family skate with him and Joey, your heart skipped a beat and you said yes, thinking maybe you could teach yourself before then but you hadn’t had the chance. “You don’t know how to skate.” Freddie repeated, nodding his head slowly, “guess we’ll have to teach you.” He added, smiling at Joey who was nodding eagerly. You hesitantly agreed, worried you’d end up with a broken bone. Freddie brushed off your concerns as he told you how to properly tighten your skates as he adjusted Joey’s, letting Auston whisk him off with his sisters who were just as excited to see the little boy. That left you and Freddie alone. “Where’s my teacher?” You joked, looking for Joey, Freddie mocked offense, “he had other clients, I guess I’ll have to suffice.” He offered you a hand to get up from the bench, “thanks.” You whispered, carefully following him the few steps over to the ice. You grimaced as he easily moved around, waiting for you to set the bladed shoe down on it. You did so and immediately tensed up, feeling a little nervous at how slippery it felt beneath you. “Here.” Freddie gave you his hands once again.

You knew deep down it was more than being friendly, but again you kept telling yourself it was just him being nice. Setting a good example for his son, despite him being nowhere near the two of you. “Oh god.” You yelped, squeezing his hands a little tighter as he slowly tugged you along, directing you on how to move your feet. You tried following his instructions, but you were never the most coordinated, “Y/N.” He laughed heartily, a sound you didn’t know you loved until right now. “I’m not going to let you-“ he stopped as you nearly fell but he quickly shot his hands around your waist to grab you, “fall.” He mumbled, nose nearly touching yours. It felt like a moment out of a movie as you looked into his eyes, your heart beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “Freddie.” You whispered, neither of you daring to pull away, he stayed silent, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Freddie, people are staring.” You whispered again, he nodded, clearing his throat as he put more space between you. “You good?” He asked, skating towards the exit, he helped you over to the bench once you assured him you were fine. “I need a second, can you just keep an eye on Joey.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he was easily walking off in the skates, you took notice of Mitch and Auston quickly going to find him.

Your eyes went wide as you heard a familiar cry, you rushed to your feet having already taken the skates off, you looked around in a panic for Joey, trying to follow the noise, of course it was coming from the ice. Thankfully one of Auston’s sisters was skating over to you with Joey, “he fell and hit his head, I’m sure he’s fine, just a little shaken up.” She explained to you, as Joey was placed into your arms crying. You nodded as he squeezed you, silently telling her it was fine as you turned to tend to the boy, you kneeled in front of him, setting him on the bench. “Hey, you’re ok, bud, you’re tough.” You soothed him, seeing the red patch on his skin where he fell, nothing worse than he could’ve done on the hardwoods at home. “It hurts.” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I know, but you took it like a champ.” You assured him, wiping the last of his tears away as Freddie started speed walking over. “Ok.” He mumbled, looking down at his skates, “do you want to take a break?” Freddie asked softly, Joey nodding sheepishly. You loosened his laces and pulled the skates off, he mumbled a thank you before making grabby hands at his dad.

You tried to brush off the awkward silence between you and Freddie, Joey whispered something to Freddie who nodded, setting him down and letting him run off to the food court where Mitch and Steph were. “Y/N, can we talk?” Freddie asked, watching as you nodded slowly, hesitantly. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked instantly, he went wide eyed, “no, no of course not.” He rushed, “I just-on the ice I, ugh, I wanted to kiss you.” He mumbled, not looking over at you as his cheeks burned red. You held in a noise of shock, “why didn’t you?” You questioned, his head snapped up, his brown eyes searching your face for the disappointment that he so clearly heard in your voice. “Because, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You took a leap of faith as you stepped towards him, tipping your head back to look up at him, “you won’t make me uncomfortable.” You assured him. He didn’t hesitate to cup your face and press his lips to yours, he kept it short and sweet, but just enough. He smiled as he pulled away, your eyes stayed shut for a moment as you took in the sensation. Neither of you said anything, it kind of went unspoken as he grabbed your hand, pulling you over to the ice. “Skate with me?” He asked, giving you a smile that warmed your heart. “Only if you don’t let me fall.” You giggled, stepping into the ice with more confidence this time around. “You know I won’t.” He stayed alongside you, squeezing your hand every once in a while as you skated in a few circles around the rink.

Joey was sleeping peacefully in his room, oblivious to the conversation you and Freddie were having in the living room. “Why does this mean for us?” You asked softly, hugging your knees to your chest, looking over at Freddie, unsure of what this new step would mean for you both. “I like you, quite a lot, and I think you feel the same.” He trailed off, stretching his legs out in front of him, slouching slightly against the couch. “I do.” You agreed with him, smiling as he laid his hand on the couch, palm up. You reached over and laced your fingers together, “so that means we figure it out.” He mumbled happily. “Figure it out.” You confirmed.

***

And that’s what you guys have been doing, a little over a month has passed, you were taking it slow, but yet at the same time as you were so intertwined in their life’s, it felt like you’d skipped straight to the good part, being active in Joey’s life, and being the woman that Freddie wanted to come straight home too. He’d offered to find someone else to watch Joey, not wanting you to feel odd about still technically being paid to take care of him, but you loved Joey too much, it didn’t bother you so it didn’t bother Freddie.

“When will daddy be home?” Joey asked sleepily as you closed the book, having just read to him for half an hour as he kept requesting another story. “He’ll be home really late, bub, but he’ll be here when you wake up in the morning, promise.” You assured him as he looked up at you with sleepy eyes, his arm clutched around the teddy bear he adored. “Goodnight, mommy.” He murmured, eyes already falling shut, you held in a sharp breath, unsure on what to say, or what to do. “Goodnight.” You whispered as you tiptoed out of the room, your heart slamming against your chest as you shut his door. Your hands shook as you ran a hand over your face, sighing deeply as you trudged to the kitchen to clean up the mess from dinner, making a plate for Freddie and putting it in the fridge, he’d be home in a couple of hours, and the plate in the fridge had became a tradition of yours long before he confessed his feelings. Your phone started vibrating in your pocket as you washed the dishes, you quickly dried off your hand and answered the phone, putting it on speaker as you continued. “Hey.” You spoke nervously, “hey, everything ok?” Freddie asked instantly, hearing the nervousness in your voice. “Yeah, yes.” You mumbled, “babe.” He cautioned, already tired from the difficult game he had just played and lost, his heart heavy in his chest, wanting to come home two his favorite people. Their playoff spot is now gone, “Joey called me mommy.” You blurted, the line falling silent on both ends as the only noise heard was the water running in the sink.

“Freddie?” You questioned, he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to him about that.” He muttered, “no, it’s fine, he was just tired, I’m sure it was nothing.” You rambled, sighing as he gave you a grunt in response. “I’m sorry about the game.” You whispered, he muttered a soft ok. Not speaking after that. You didn’t want to guilt him after all of this, but his reaction was worse than you had expected, and it only made you worry further that this wasn’t at all what he really wanted. “There’s dinner in the fridge, goodnight, Fred.” You muttered, “Y/N.” He started, but then fell silent again, you shook your head to yourself, “goodnight.” He whispered before hanging up.

You climbed into the bed that night with tears in your eyes. Worried about the entire situation, you knew it would be hard, adjusting, it wasn’t the typical relationship, it was more complicated.

Freddie checked on Joey before padding down the hall to see you, it wasn’t odd for him to find you in his room, it’s never been anything more than just sleeping beside each other, and he could tell he’d upset you on the phone, but when he walked into his room and didn’t see you, he panicked for a moment. He cursed to himself as he quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants, now walking to the other side of the house where the guest room was.

He stepped into the room, looking at the way you were asleep with a tissue clutched in your hand, your phone landing beside your head when you’d finally given into the sleep. He took the few steps over to you, carefully placing your phone on the nightstand, pulling the tissue from your grasp, you didn’t stir, surprisingly until he was climbing in behind you. “It’s just me.” He murmured when you inhaled sharply, you stayed silent, relaxing when he placed a hand on your side. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, kissing the back of your shoulder, “I’m sorry too.” You sighed, rolling to your back to look at him. “You didn’t do anything.” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, tucking some hair behind your ear. “For the game, for acting the way I did when you reacted like that.” You explained, leaning into the hand he had on your cheek, “it’s alright.” He lowered his head down to kiss you, it was lazy and sloppy, the both of you feeling a need to be close.

You ran your hand over his chest, lightly pushing him to his back as you followed him, straddling him gently, his hands dipped under your shirt, caressing your bare skin, relishing in the faint moan that fell from your lips as you pulled away to breathe. “We don’t-“ you cut him off, “I want too.” You looked down at him with hooded eyes, he nodded, slowly pushing the hem of your shirt up. He swallowed as he watched you pull it off, letting it fall on the floor beside the bed. “Baby.” His hands slid up your sides, over your chest, his calloused fingers touching every inch of exposed skin. “Freddie.” You hummed, tipping your head back, rolling your hips in response. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, it was slow as you both pushed and pulled on the remaining clothing. Freddie sat up to kiss you, keeping himself steady with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around your back as you sunk down on him. You dug your nails into the back of his shoulder as you had to adjust to him, his lips trailed across your neck, murmuring sweet praises. You began to rock your hips, loving the way Freddie moaned against your shoulder as he kept your bodies close together. “You feel so good.” He praised as you began moving with more speed, between the tiredness and the emotions you’d been feeling, it didn’t take long for that familiar feeling to tighten in your stomach.

Freddie took over, flipping you to your back, moving in and out of you with his own urgency as you clenched around him. Your gasps and moans only fueled him on as he found his own release, “Freddie.” You tilted your head back, cursing softly as he rested half on top of you, catching his breath, you ran a hand through his hair, his lips ghosting across your throat as he worked his way back up to your lips. “I love you.” He murmured, “I should’ve said that before.” He added quickly, releasing how bad it made him look to be saying that in this position. “I love you too.” You sighed, you guys would figure it out, just like you had done so far.

***

Joey tugged on Freddie’s jacket, pulling him away from where the two of you were swaying to the music, you watched Freddie bend down to let Joey speak in his ear, now six years old. Freddie nodded, winking at you as he made his way over to his family, “I want to dance with you, mommy.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on your stomach, having just hit a growth spurt, already showing his fathers height, the sight of him hugging you in your white gown, and him in his little suit just warmed your heart. “Of course, baby.” You whispered, placing a hand on his back and one on his arm as he swayed with you.

You figured it out, just like you always did.

Taglist: @heybarzy @literarycharleton @kiedhara @mandypants95

[abbacchiosbelt]

Hold On | Prosciutto x Reader

A commissioned fic for the wonderful Shae!

CW: Misogynistic comments [not from Prosciutto], oral sex. NSFW, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.3k words.

The sunlight filtering through the apartment’s cheap blinds forces you to blearily open your eyes, your gaze immediately falling to the man in the bed next to you – Prosciutto. The night you’d spent with him had been more than you’d ever dreamed of, especially with a man of Prosciutto’s caliber. Handsome, mysterious, and clearly well-off by the price of the dinner he’d taken you out to. Though he’d waved you away when you asked for the price, you managed to catch it out of the corner of your eye. Prosciutto had even spent the night with you, letting you fall asleep on his chest while he stroked your hair. It was tender, intimate – not something you necessarily expected after a single date.

Prosciutto stirs, as if he knew you were thinking about him, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth pulled into a frown. When he catches your eyes, you see a brief hint of a smile before he sits up and immediately stands to start gathering his clothes.

“You’re leaving already?” You sit up, pulling the covers over your chest. Prosciutto nods but doesn’t look over at you. Your stomach falls, but you should have expected it. At the very least, you wouldn’t have been opposed to him staying for a light breakfast. Once he’s fully dressed, he finally turns to look at you. His eyes are steely, portraying no emotion.

“It was…” He waves his hand in the air, searching for the word. “Very good. But, ah,” Prosciutto hesitates, watching your expression. He remembers the text Illuso had sent him in the middle of the night; a line in English to use when he left in the morning. “I’m a busy man, cara.” It’s only a little clunky when he speaks, the pet name afterwards flowing smoothly from his lips.

It was like that, then – his warmth from the night before must have been an act. You don’t bother trying to pretend that you’re okay with his behavior, instead giving him a cool look in return. You tilt your head towards the doorway, affixing him with a look that said everything he needed to know. “Ciao, Prosciutto.” The words are no longer kind like when you saw him on the sidewalk and stopped to talk to him, instead sounding final. He sighs and gives you one last lingering look before he steps out of the room. You don’t move until you hear your front door close.

“Bastard,” you mutter under your breath, flopping back down on your pillow. You cover up the side of the bed where he’d been sleeping with your comforter, ignoring the lingering scent of his cologne. You were tempted to waste the day in bed but instead decide to strip your sheets, throwing them unceremoniously in the washing machine and adding in too much fabric softener. At least the scent of him would be gone. A part of you feels foolish for being so upset, and yet another part of you can’t let go of how genuine Prosciutto seemed. While you didn’t want to deal with it today, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was something more to your night with him.

-

Prosciutto stubs his cigarette out on the ground, frowning at how many cigarette butts were littered around the front doorstep of his home and workplace. He could have cleaned it up himself, but he wasn’t the only smoker in the group, so why should he have to? The filth sours his already dour mood, the blonde muttering curses as he unlocks the building’s door. It hadn’t been his first choice to live with his teammates, but since the loss of Sorbet and Gelato, the close quarters provided them with an extra layer of safety.

Prosciutto groans in annoyance when the first faces to pop up into his view are Melone and Formaggio, the pair staring at him expectantly. Melone was lounging on the dingy couch he’d brought with him when he moved in, his laptop perched on his legs. Formaggio was sitting in the large chair that Risotto usually claimed, both of them looking like the cat who got the canary. It irked Prosciutto that they were staring at him like they knew something, and he wondered if Illuso hadn’t blabbed about the whole thing. It wouldn’t be unlike him.

“Welcome back,” Melone says, practically purring. The way he spoke made Prosciutto’s skin crawl – Melone always had a certain tone to his voice when he was going to say something inappropriate. “So, the neighbor girl? What was her name again? Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t remember now.” Melone’s mouth curls up into a smug smile, his tongue poking out. Prosciutto bristles, and Formaggio lets out an obnoxious snort.

“Knew you’d get to her first.” Formaggio whistles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Was her ass as good as it looked?” Prosciutto glares at Formaggio, his eyes darkening. The banter around who his teammates were fucking was something he should be used to, despite the fact Prosciutto didn’t enjoy participating in it. Something about this time, though, was filling him was anger. Formaggio continues, ignoring Prosciutto’s expression. “I bet she was easy for you. You pretty bastards practically make those easy slut’s panties fall off just from looking at them.”

“Ooh, and how was that pretty mouth of hers?” Melone chimes in – unlike Formaggio, he’d noticed Prosciutto’s growing rage, but took pleasure in upsetting the blonde. Prosciutto growls and steps forward, Grateful Dead rising from behind him. Before he can advance on them, a voice cuts through—

“Aniki! Y-you remember what Risotto said about Stands in here.” Pesci’s unsure voice breaks the tension in the room, Melone and Formaggio recoiling back at the sight of Prosciutto’s deadly Stand. Prosciutto takes a ragged breath before recalling his Stand, Pesci’s intervention forcing him to remember where he was. Pesci nervously steps over to Prosciutto; afraid he’d made him even angrier. Prosciutto claps Pesci on the shoulder.

“You’re right,” Prosciutto says. His cool demeanor is back in an instant. He doesn’t bother to look at Melone and Formaggio when he starts to walk back towards his room, saluting Pesci with two fingers before he shuts the door behind him. Prosciutto lets out a deep breath when the door is securely locked, kicking off his expensive shoes. He preferred to spend as much time as possible away from this place, but there were no errands that needed to be run nor any missions that he and Pesci were suited for at the moment. He had a rare few hours to himself before someone would inevitably knock at his door to bother him. Alone time was something sacred to Prosciutto, but with the thoughts boiling over in his head about her, it was something he was dreading. He glances at the English dictionary Ghiaccio had (loudly) snuck into his room, his stomach twisting.

There was no denying that Prosciutto had fallen for her.

Feelings were a dangerous thing for an assassin to have. Prosciutto was trained from a young age on how to push his feelings to the back of his mind – he was primed for Mafia life. Passione and completing the missions given to him came before anything else, especially his own personal life. Prosciutto had lived that way for years. Emotions were drowned in cheap booze and cigarettes, any fleeting feelings he may have stamped out by his own harsh nature. He had never spent a second night with anyone he’d slept with in the past five years, and that was going to be how he lived until he died. Prosciutto was well aware of the dangerous life he lived – he was cold, but he wasn’t cold enough to put someone in harm’s way, even if he wanted them more than anything.

Even if they had made warmth bloom in his chest for the first time in years and made him truly feel something.

Prosciutto closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits on his bed, fishing another cigarette out of his jacket’s pocket. He preferred to smoke outdoors, but he can’t be bothered to care in his current emotional state. Prosciutto lights his cigarette and takes a deep drag, letting the smoke burn his throat before he exhales. He thinks about the previous night – how lovely his company had been and how much she’d made him laugh. How well they clicked despite the language barrier, and how easy it felt with her; her demure smile before he’d taken her to bed, and how easily she had made him fall apart.

Prosciutto knows he should ignore his feelings. It’s what he was trained to do, after all. It’s what he should do – but he knows he can’t. Not this time. He stands from his bed and opens the small window in his room, tossing his half-finished cigarette out.

He’d give her time – a week for both of them to cool their heads. Even if she didn’t want to see him again, he had to try.

-

The next few days pass by without incident. You go to work and continue life as it was before, frustrated but determined to move on. Your phone stays silent, and you try to ignore the part in you that hopes it will ring.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. It was just one date.

When you hear a knock on the door one week to the day after your date with Prosciutto, you’re cautious. The neighborhood you lived in wasn’t known for its safety, and it was rare that anyone knocked on your door. Clad in loungewear, you peek through the eyehole to see the last person you were expecting.

There stood Prosciutto, shifting from side to side. You unlock your door and crack it open, watching as Prosciutto’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before his face returns to its grumpy looking state. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to answer.

“Can I come in?” Prosciutto asks, quiet. You hesitate, wondering exactly what he could want. He doesn’t pressure you, waiting in silence while you deliberate. You knew you might regret it, but you open the door and usher him in. He shuts the door behind himself and leans against it, biting his bottom lip. You hadn’t known him long, but you had never seen him look so anxious. “Bella, I…” He starts, trailing off.

You stop him before he gets too far, crossing your arms. “I don’t want some apology you give to every girl.” Prosciutto frowns but doesn’t interject. “You hurt me.”

Prosciutto nods, and you raise an eyebrow at him. He pauses for a second while he thinks about what he wants to say. “Mi dispiace, Shae.” His eyes meet yours, the sound of your name coming from his mouth making your heart pound. It was almost criminal how easily you wanted to forgive him, but you needed more than just an apology. Prosciutto takes a step forward and holds his hand out. You place your hand in his, hesitant. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the back of it. “Can we… try again?” Prosciutto is earnest when he speaks, your hand still resting in his. He threads his fingers through yours, a soft smile on his face. “Per favore?”

As tempting as it was to accept his apology, you refused to let him back into your life without making sure Prosciutto knew how you felt – about how you wouldn’t just be tossed to the side again. You keep a hold of his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Prosciutto, I want to, but…” He raises his eyebrows, but his deep blue gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Tell me the truth. Do you want me?” Prosciutto opens his mouth, but you use your free hand to press your index finger against his lips. He looks surprised, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Not just now. But in the future?” You think for a moment that you might need to translate for him, but Prosciutto nods eagerly. He pulls you into him, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“Sì, Shae. I want you,” he leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. “Now. Tomorrow. Costantemente.” He breathes, ghosting a kiss across your lips. “Can I?”

You close the gap between your mouths as an answer, Prosciutto’s responding groan as his warm lips found your own making your lower half ache – you’d been dreaming of feeling his touch again. Prosciutto lets go of your hand and grabs the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He was more vocal than he’d been last week, his moans needy as you slide your tongue across his lower lip.

For the first time, Prosciutto felt like he could let his walls down around someone – he can barely think with your lips finally on his again. Never had he ached so much for someone. To Prosciutto, you felt like a lover he’d been with for years. He wanted to make it up to you for being such a fool, to treat you like the goddess he saw you as. He slides his hands down your body and squeezes your ass before hauling you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The surprised noise that you let out makes Prosciutto’s already hardening length twitch, but it was the last thing on his mind. The only thing he could think about was hearing you cry out for him as he buried his face in between your legs. He maneuvers you to your bedroom like he’d been in your home a million times, gently laying you down on the bed before hungrily looking over you.

The fact you only had loungewear on while Prosciutto was dressed in his usual outfit makes you feel self-conscious, but the blonde barely seems to care what you have on. You squirm as his eyes rove up and down your body, Prosciutto grinning at your reaction.

“Sei bellissima,” he purrs. The words affect you just as much as they had the first time you heard them from Prosciutto, your heart thumping in your chest. To be called beautiful by someone as handsome as Prosciutto felt unreal, but you knew by the look in his deep blue eyes that he was sincere. Prosciutto crawls over you on the bed and puts his fingers under the hem of your shirt, waiting.

“Take it off.” Prosciutto hums, pleased at your eager response, and wastes no time sliding your shirt up and off. He bites his lip at the sight of your freed breasts and uses his hands to cup them, softly rubbing his thumb over your hardening nipples. The soft touches have you arching into his fingers, greedy for more. “Please,” you beg, and Prosciutto smirks. He leans down and captures your right nipple in his mouth, his warm tongue circling around the bud before he flicks it, repeating the rhythm before moving to your other breast. One hand travels down your body while he works your breasts, his hand trailing over your hip bone and dipping slightly beneath the fabric covering your lower half. He pulls back and admires his handiwork, his cock uncomfortably hard in his pants now. Prosciutto ignores it, focusing on you instead.

Prosciutto trails kisses down your torso until he reaches your lower stomach, his eyes flitting up to look at you under his dark lashes. “May I?” He asks, playing with the hem of your pants.

“P-please,” your voice is wobbly – he hadn’t done this last time, and you were a little nervous. Prosciutto presses a kiss to your stomach and lifts his head, your anxiety obvious to him. You know he’ll ask you if you’re sure, so you beat him to it, your cheeks darkening. “I want it,” Your eyes don’t leave Prosciutto’s. “Please, Prosciutto.” Asking for what you want is enough to make your cheeks blaze even harder from embarrassment, but Prosciutto’s wide smirk is evidence that he enjoys how forward you were being.

Prosciutto slides your pants down and off your legs with ease before he moves back up and gently spreads them apart, exposing your glistening pussy. You feel embarrassed at how wet you are, but it was impossible not to be with Prosciutto’s masterful kissing and touching. He licks his lips as he gazes at your sex, using two fingers to spread your lips apart.

“P, Prosciutto-” you whisper-shout, flustered. If you could see his mouth, you’d see the grin on his face.

“Hm?” He replies, leaning forward. You can feel his warm breath on you, the sensation making your body feel hyper aware. “Perfetta.” You shiver, remembering his words from your previous encounter – despite the embarrassment from being exposed in front of him, you were dying to know how his mouth felt. Your wish is granted when Prosciutto suddenly licks a long stripe from your perineum to your clit using the flat of his tongue, a growl coming from his throat as he tastes your juices.

“Oh!” You shout, the feeling of his tongue almost too good. Prosciutto doesn’t give you a chance to think before his mouth is back on your pussy again, the combination of sloppy kisses and practiced flicks of his tongue on your clit driving you crazy. He uses his arms to drag you forward so that your legs are over his shoulders while he works at you like a man starved – he uses his tongue to fuck your pussy as deep as he can, rutting against the bed for his own relief.

Prosciutto’s jaw is aching, but he refuses to stop – and how could he, when you looked so beautiful writhing above him? The heady scent of you combined with the divine taste had his cock leaking precum in his slacks. All he wanted to do was take his own cock out and fuck you until his name was the only thing you could remember, but he refused to do so without finishing his apology to you with his mouth. He feels your legs shaking around him and switches tactics, using his tongue and mouth on your clit, groaning when he feels your hands tug at his hair. He allows you to push him in just the right spot, his own body buzzing with pleasure as you use him.

You cry out and press yourself hard against Prosciutto as his tongue finally takes you over the peak that’d been building up in your body, your eyes clenching shut as your legs clamp around him, white hot pleasure coursing through your lower half. Your body feels like it’s floating as you come down, your legs and arms going limp with relief. Prosciutto lifts his head from your pussy, face glistening with your juices and a smirk plastered across his face. He gently eases himself out from below you and sits against the pillows resting against your headboard. He moves so that you can rest your head against your lap, Prosciutto gently brushing through your hair with his fingers.

“Prosciutto,” You murmur, your mind still hazy. “Let me take care of you.” He shakes his head from above you, giving your head a pat before he goes back to stroking your hair.

“Later, tesoro.” The pet name makes your stomach flutter, and you give him a lazy smile. He smiles back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. You close your eyes, eventually falling asleep to Prosciutto’s soothing touches.

When you wake up, you’re covered in the comforter. There’s something warm wrapped around you – when you look over, you see Prosciutto snoozing away, his hair loose and spread around the pillow. You smile and settle back down, warmth flowing through your chest when Prosciutto cuddles closer to you in his sleep.

This time, you knew he would be there in the morning.

[ayellowcurtain]

This happen somewhere during season 3 - Their first date

Sander takes a deep breath. In and out, even slower. His heart is beating so fast and so loud he can feel it all over his chest. And he doesn’t know how to fix it, if that’s a thing it’ll happen every time he spends hours with Robbe, sharing a meal while talking about everything, so curious to know every detail of Robbe. He wonders if that’s what falling in love really means. It wasn’t his first first date but it feels like it. Robbe is the one that matters so that must be it, the feeling of anxiety, of not knowing what to do, how to behave to impress him. And Robbe has never been on a real date before so he had to make this perfect. A little bit of weight is off their shoulders because they were tipsy one night and did things in a different order.

But he still feels very anxious and excited. He's trying to behave like it's a real first date, like nothing ever happened between them, like he doesn't already feel madly, deeply in love with this boy.

He looks up carefully through his lashes, and Robbe looks at him the same way a second later. He snorts and Robbe laughs, looking back down at Sander's phone, finding the Bowie playlist he made for tonight. Robbe's new test, the advanced one he wanted a few weeks ago. Sander tried to be helpful that night but things went differently than expected, better than Sander could have ever imagined. The memories still are fresh in his mind, he can still feel Robbe’s soaking wet hair in between his fingers, the way Robbe left out a soft moan between their kiss that night. He can’t keep thinking about that kiss when they’re in public, acting like that kiss never happened.

They're standing so close they sort of make each other lose balance a little bit, swaying back and forth while Sander shares the link, sending it to Robbe. They are so close Sander feels like kissing Robbe, just pressing their lips together but he's not sure if he can so he waits, putting his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'll do amazing in this test." Robbe thinks out loud, and Sander sighs, gently pressing their foreheads together to push Robbe away just enough so it’s easier to resist the urge to kiss him.

"I'll be the one to judge that." Robbe tilts his head, looking at Sander with that coy smile, and bright, innocent eyes, and Sander sighs again. Robbe is so cute, and irresistible, and they get each other so well already that he knows Sander is sighing because he's thinking how gone he already is. The feeling between them is magical, like Sander thought it would be since that night he first saw Robbe. He feels seen, and heard, not just a fake act like it was with Britt. Robbe actually listens, and talks, and they get each other and Sander is in awe that it’s real.

"So you're an annoying teacher?" Robbe presses his lips together, with his narrow eyes trying to not smile. Sander nods his head, and Robbe moves his in that way he does when he’s too shy to ask something.

He looks around, people passing by them without giving them much thought standing there, outside the restaurant they just ate at. Once the last couple is at a safe distance, almost at the end of the sidewalk a couple of meters down from them, Robbe gatters the courage to ask.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else now?” Robbe lifts his shoulders almost as high as they can go, his hands deep inside his pockets. Sander lifts his eyebrows, taking the question in, surprised to be invited to go somewhere else. He was certain their awkward date was over, and successful, hopefully. They would walk to the nearest station, hug each other for a little too long, and walk their separate ways, text each other all the way to their homes, not feeling like ending the night if they didn’t have to. If the text conversation felt as good as the real date did, Sander would find a way to ask for another date.

“Do you?”

He has to ask, make sure Robbe is not inviting him because he feels any pressure to do so. Robbe nods his head very shyly, and Sander feels his whole body warming up and melting a little at the same time. Robbe is too cute.

“Yeah, let’s go somewhere else.” He decides for them, turning his heels uncertainly to walk to the right. He saw a fancy hotel on his bus ride here. Maybe if he gathers the courage he’ll drop a comment about it when they’re passing by to see if that’s what Robbe wants to do.

They walk in silence for some time, stopping to wait for the green light to turn on for them, when he tries to quietly check on Robbe, their eyes meet, and Sander smiles, nodding his head for no reason.

“Can I tell you something?” Robbe asks once they’re on the other side of the street, still walking with no rush.

“Anything.”

“I don’t feel like going anywhere without you these days.”

Sander looks at him, still walking with no extra weight on his shoulder for being so open like that. “That’s nice...I don’t wanna do that either.”

Robbe smiles, and they continue walking, carefully like even the sound of their steps could make things more real than they already are.

“That day…” Robbe looks at him when Sander doesn’t say a thing because he is not following which day they’re talking about. “The first test.”

“Oh. What about it?”

“Were you and Britt…?”

Sander knows what he means by the way Robbe lifts his eyebrows suggestively but he doesn’t understand how he would go to that conclusion. “She walked behind you wearing only a towel.” Robbe explains, and only then Sander remembers more about that day before their video call. He laughs, feeling stupid for talking about it.

“No. She wanted to, but I was busy rushing to create a playlist to find a way to talk to a guy I’ve met through her. So she got pissed, and went to take a shower.”

Robbe laughs, and Sander watches his tanned skin turn redder on his cheeks. They’re walking so closely their arms keep hitting each other, so they walk slower, and Sander plays with Robbe’s fingers quietly, acting like it’s an accident that their fingers keep brushing against each other.

“Were you surprised that I was calling you?”

Robbe nods his head, kicking some rocks on the sidewalk, finally looking at Sander, squinting his eyes a little bit because of the bright street lights.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about...I don’t know, talking to you in any way. So when you replied to my text right away and I saw you were online still, I did it without thinking much about it.”

“Do you regret it?” Robbe asks, closing one of his eyes so he can see Sander.

“No, never.”

“It was nice. I was listening to your playlist when you called.”

“Did you really like it or were you just being nice?” Sander smiles, and Robbe laughs, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Of course I did! I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I know how Bowie is important to you, the love of your life.”

Sander snorts at that, looking at Robbe, holding his gaze.

“Do you really need to hear me say it?”

They both know what’s on the underlines of that question.

“We’ll go back to this in a few weeks.”

“Okay, Bowie.”

Robbe smiles, and he finally holds Sander’s hand, leaning against his arm a little bit, keeping Sander’s hand in between both of his.

[sunkissedpages]

breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless. 

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter​ + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end. 

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes. 

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside. 

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that...  you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them. 

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck. 

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe? 

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see. 

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out. 

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.” 

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.  

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious. 

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain. 

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat. 

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t. 

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

-

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them. 

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it. 

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible. 

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road. 

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers. 

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast. 

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!” 

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle. 

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board. 

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed. 

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather. 

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way. 

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off. 

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland. 

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning. 

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state. 

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit. 

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[noona-la-la-la]

Flight 18

Summary:  Korean Air Flight 18 leaves daily from Los Angeles traveling to Seoul.  You’ve taken this flight before, but this time you’ve got an irritating passenger in the neighboring seat.  Little did you know that he would end up giving you the ride of your life.

Wordcount: 9500 ish.  This was only supposed to be a small drabble, but I got carried away.

Warnings:  Sex sex sex!  Oral sex for everybody.  Finger banging.  Penis in vagina. Sex with strangers! Sex in a bathroom so if you are germ phobic, good luck with that.  Also, dirty talking vulgarity galore.

Notable:  It’s Hoseok y’all!  So you can stop nagging me about how I don’t have any Hobi fics!

____________________________________________________________

“See something you like?” The man sitting across from you at the boarding gate stretched out his hands and spread his knees further apart, as if inviting you to take a closer look.

“I… I’m sorry.  I was just zoning out.  I didn’t even realize I was looking in your direction,” you lied.  

“Uh-huh.  Sure.  Tell yourself whatever you need to, “ he replied with a smirk.

You ignored him, raising the book you had been reading higher, covering your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.  The truth was you had been staring, but not because you were attracted.  Instead you were appalled that anyone would show up to an airport dressed like that.

This guy, whoever he was, had shown up to the airport wearing shorts that appeared to be nothing more than a pair of gray sweats that had been cut off at the knees and a denim jacket that he had only bothered to use two buttons to close.  He had on no shirt underneath and with his jacket being barely closed, a large portion of his upper chest and his abdomen were visible.  His sweat-shorts were hung low on his hips to make sure the waistband of his Balenciaga underwear was visible for all to see.  A hat kept his hair completely covered -- the only modest thing about him.

To think that guy would presume that you might be looking at him because you found him attractive was laughable.  He looks like the kind of guy who got kicked out of his apartment for not paying rent.  Probably couldn’t afford rent because he wasted all his money on stupid designer underwear.  His landlord probably kept the rest of his wardrobe as collateral.   

You stifled a laugh, amused by your own thoughts on why this stranger showed up to the airport looking like that.  Attracted to him? As if.

Peeking over the top of your book to surreptitiously glance at the man again, you were relieved to see his eyes were closed.  His arms were folded across his chest, causing his jacket to ride up some more, bringing his belly button into view.  So tacky, you thought. Although, you had to admit to yourself, it was a nice belly button on a very nice abdomen…  No, you shook your head, it doesn’t matter how nice his body is when this guy clearly has no sense of propriety.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we will now begin pre-boarding for Flight 18 to Inchon International Airport, South Korea…

You gathered your things and moved with the throng of people queuing up to board the plane.  The flight had already been delayed by more than an hour and people seemed anxious to move as quickly as possible.  Normally you would dread the 13 hour flight from Los Angeles to Seoul, but you had saved enough frequent flyer miles to get an upgrade to business class.  You had taken this flight too many times in the noisy and cramped economy class and you were almost looking forward to relaxing in your extra long fully reclining seat with personal multimedia console and full bar service.

The business class cabin had wide seats staggered so as to allow some semblance of privacy. The center aisle had side by side seating separated by a low wall with a retractable window, allowing for traveling companions to chat or for strangers to put the window up and avoid interaction with each other.  You were disappointed to see you had one of the center aisle seats instead of the single seats by the windows -- but took comfort that the wall between you and your neighbor meant that you wouldn’t be trapped in some idle chit chat for 13 hours.

You were struggling to get your carry on luggage into the overhead compartment when you heard a voice, “You aren’t a stalker, are you?”

With a final shove, your bag slid into place and you looked across your seat to see the man who would be sitting next to you for the flight.  It’s was mister half-dressed-Balenciaga-underwear himself.

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“I asked if you were a stalker.  First I catch you staring at me and now you’re sitting next to me… Look.  I’m happy to give you an autograph or whatever, but I need to know you aren’t going to be one of those people who tries to take pictures of me while I’m asleep,” he said with a straight face.

“Is this some kind of joke?  Why would anyone take pictures of you when you sleep?”  

He looked at you inquisitively, one eyebrow cocked upward, and paused before replying.  “So, you don’t know who I am?”

You tilted your head to the side, trying to see him from a different angle.  “Am I supposed to know who you are?  Are you famous or something?”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, causing his shorts to ride even lower on his hips, and shrugged his shoulders.   “I guess I’m not famous enough if you don’t know me.  Sorry to have interrupted you, please carry on.”  With that, he plopped down in his seat and pulled a pair of headphones out of his bag, indicating the time for talking was now over.

You were left a bit flustered by the interaction. What a weird guy, you thought to yourself, hoping that this would be the last time you had to speak to him.  You settled into your seat and closed your eyes as you awaited take-off but, despite your best efforts, your mind started to drift to thoughts of the man seated next you.  What is this guy’s deal?  Is he actually famous or is he just screwing with me?  He is kind of good looking.  But he’s so brash.  He’d have to be brash to dress like that in public.  Tacky.  Tacky and brash… and a bit good looking.

“Would you like a drink, madam?”  The flight attendant interrupted your thoughts to take your order.

“I’ll just have some water for now, thanks.”

“That sounds good,”  the man next to you lowered the window that separated you to more easily speak to the attendant.  “Only can you make mine a soda water?  And add some vodka in there with it?”

“Yes, sir.”  The attendant giggled, finding the way he ordered cute.  You just rolled your eyes.

When the attendant returned, she handed you a small bottle of water and then reached across you to pass your neighbor his vodka and soda. You waited for a minute, assuming he would put the window back up, but when he didn’t -- you leaned forward to reach the button to put it up yourself only to be startled by his head suddenly popping through the opening.

“You really don’t know who I am?”  He was leaning forward over the armrest, encroaching on your private space.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t.  Is that a problem?”  You wondered at this man’s ego. 

He flashed a wide smile.  “No.  It’s actually great.  It means when you were staring at me back at the boarding gate, it was because you were attracted to me and not because you were looking at a celebrity.”  His eyes wandered across your body, making no attempt to hide that he was looking you up and down.  “You aren’t too bad looking yourself, you know.”

You were agitated by his assumptions and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, “You aren’t even wearing a shirt!  How could I not look?  Who dresses like that in public?!”

“So you’re more into my body than my face?  That’s okay.  I can work with that.”  He winked at you before leaning back into his own seat and raising the window.

Stunned into silence, you stared at the barrier that separated the two of you.  You could only see his hat poking up above the retractable window and you contemplated snatching it off his head and beating him with it.  How could anyone be so audacious to say something like that?

You tried to read your book, but your focus kept being pulled back to the stranger in the seat next to you.   What does he mean that he “can work with that”?  You turned the page and squinted, reading the same paragraph multiple times in a row because you could not get the words to make sense.  Also, who asked him for his opinion on my appearance.  “Not that bad?” Whatever.  I know what I look like.  And he’d be lucky to be with someone like me. 

Reading was pointless, so you plugged in your earphones and turned on the video console, flipping through the channels looking for something mindless to watch.  You tried watching a movie, but your mind continued to wander. Seriously, who is that guy?  Was he flirting with me? Is that what’s going on here?  He is kinda cute in a dirty obnoxious sort of way.  

You could feel your cheeks start to flush at the thought that the stranger could really be attracted to you and then immediately admonished yourself.  Stop it!  I always do this.  Just because a guy is overly confident and shows the slightest bit of interest, I don’t need to be flattered.  But, against all your efforts to maintain your composure, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this guy, even with all his arrogance and poor fashion choices, might be a little bit into you.

A few hours into the flight, the meal service began.  When the attendant brought you your dinner, the guy in the seat next to you lowered the window again and looked at your tray of food.

“What did you end up ordering?” he asked without any preamble.  

“I got the fish.” You answered curtly, but politely. 

“I got the beef,” he answered you even though you had not bothered to ask him what he was eating.  “I was thinking about the fish but I’ve had enough bad experiences with low quality airplane seafood to make me think twice about ordering it again.  Is it any good?”

“It’s fine.” You refused to look at him as you answered his questions, not wanting to encourage him further.

“Can I try a bite?”

You set your fork on your plate, irritated at his rudeness.  Who asks people they don’t know for the food off their plate?  You turned to tell him that his request for a bite would be denied, when you once again given an unexpected shock.   “Oh my god!  Will you please button up?  I can see your nipples!”

“Oh?  Hmmm.  I didn’t even realize the buttons had come undone.”  He reached down and buttoned just two buttons on his jacket, making himself look only slightly less indecent.  

“How do you not notice that you are basically topless?”

“I don’t know.  I was warm.  It happens.  Besides, what’s the big deal with a little nipple action.  I wouldn’t be freaking out and asking you to cover up if your nipples popped out of your top.”

You sputtered.  “I… what?  No. I mean… no.  I would not have any nipples popping out because I would be wearing a shirt.  Like I am now.  A shirt!  A real honest to god top that covers me and is appropriate for an airplane.  Why aren’t you wearing a shirt like a normal person for god’s sake?!”

“That seems like an awfully personal question to be asking someone you just met.”  His brows furrowed and his lips pulled taut.  “Are you always so forward?”

Your own eyes flew wide open and you could feel the heat rising up your neck -- unsure whether this was frustration or embarrassment.  How was it possible for this man to suddenly act as though he was the respectable person in this conversation.

Suddenly, his stern expression gave way to laughter.  He could barely contain his glee.  “Look at your expression. Wow!  You look totally flustered!”

You reached over to raise the window and block him out again, but he pushed the button down to thwart you.  

“Okay, okay,” he said.  “Do you really want to know why I don’t have a shirt on?  Because there’s a story to this, but I don’t know if you really want to hear it.”

You doubted that he had a good reason for his attire, but you were curious.  “Go on.”

“So here’s the deal.  I actually had tickets for a flight back to Seoul tomorrow.  But last night, my schedule for today got canceled.  I asked my manager to try to get me on an earlier flight.  He wasn’t sure if it was going to work out because it looked like all the flights were booked.  So I said, see what you can do and call me if you get something booked and I’ll be ready to go whenever.”

“So far this sounds like a very average story about trying to change your flight.  Where does the no shirt thing get explained?” you asked.

“I’m getting to it.  Since I wasn’t sure if the flight change was even going to happen, I went on about my evening…” he paused to think about how he wanted to phrase things.  “Let’s just say, I went out socializing and I ended up falling asleep at my, um, new friends’ house.  When I wake up this morning, I’ve got 10 messages from my manager.  He had been trying to get me all night to tell me he got me on the noon flight to Seoul, but I had my ringer turned down really low and didn’t hear him.  When I called him back, he said he had gotten all my stuff packed up and sent my clothes to the airport with my stylist…”

“You have a stylist and you still end up coming to the airport like this?”

“Just let me finish, alright?  He said the stylist took my luggage with most of my clothes to the airport with her to start checking in and he had my carry on and passport and everything.  I just needed to meet them at the airport.  So I go to find the clothes I was wearing the night before, but one of the girls in bed with me was asleep wearing my shirt…”

“Wait!  One of the girls in bed with you?  How many girls were in this bed?”  This guy was something else, you thought.

“Only two.  I’m not crazy -- more than two is nearly impossible to manage.  Anyways, I try to wake her up so I can get my shirt back, but she’s super groggy and still half asleep and she’s grabbing at my junk like she wants to suck my dick again, but I don’t have time for that.  So, I just put on my jacket, leave, and hail a cab to the airport.  When I got there, my stylist already checked in my luggage under her name, so all I had was this one backpack I always use as my carry on.  My manager somehow remembered to throw in a fresh pair of underwear for me, but nothing else.  And so here I am, wearing last night’s clothes, minus one shirt and adding a fresh pair of undies.”

You weren’t sure whether or not to believe him.  “So… huh.  Um.  Well, that sure is a story.”

“You look like you don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s so… I don’t even know.  So you’re wearing the same clothes you supposedly had sex in last night?”

“I took the clothes off to have sex.  So technically, no, I did not have sex in these clothes.” His face was relaxed as he relayed his story, no sign of embarrassment or shame.

“Most people would want to keep those details private, wouldn’t they.”

“I don’t know about most people, but I was just answering your question.  Besides it’s true and there’s nothing to be ashamed about.  We’re all grown-ups here.”

“Still, it feels so dirty.”

“Like I said, I’m wearing fresh underwear.  Also, when the flight got delayed, that gave me time to run over to the lounge and use the showers in the spa.  That’s why I have to keep my hat on -- didn’t have time to do my hair after the shower, I had to run back to the gate.  The point being, you don’t have to worry about there being any sex-juices or other-girl-cooties on my body.  I’m fresh and clean and ready to be put to use, if that’s something you’d like.”

“I… what?!”  You were dumbfounded.  This man you had just met was telling you sordid stories about his sex life and then asking if you would like “put him to use”.  Your mind reeled.  “Why would you even say that?”

“Because I think you’re kinda hot. And you think I’m kinda hot too.  So, why not?  Besides, I’m not expecting you to make a decision now.  I’m just laying the groundwork so you’ll feel ready when I make a real proposition to you.”

Never in your life had anyone been so brazen with you.  “How is this laying the groundwork for anything?” you asked incredulously.

“Because now you’re thinking about my dick,” he smirked.

“I am not!” you huffed.

“Anyhow - I’ll leave you to finish your meal in peace.  We can talk more later.”  And he pressed the button to raise the window, again separating himself from you, only the blue of his hat visible above the barrier.

You ate your meal in silence but couldn’t really enjoy the taste of anything because he was right, you were actually thinking about his dick. 

Stop.  Stop stop stop stop, you told yourself.  But there was no stopping it.  You picked up your book, but every few minutes, you’d pause to wonder who those women were that he had sex with last night.  Did he know them well?  Why did they want to have sex with him so badly that they were willing to share him?  How does one man even manage to satisfy two women? Does he have some kind of magical sexual prowess?  Is this story even true? He has to be making this up.

You ordered a glass of wine and listened to some music.  One song in particular reminded you of your last boyfriend.  The two of you had broken up over two months ago and you hadn’t had so much as a date since then.  Lack of sexual compatibility was part of the reason you split -- but general boredom was the primary motivator.  

You ex was the epitome of a nice guy.  Easy going, unassuming, respectful.  You didn’t go out much during the week since both of you had full time jobs and wanted to be well rested for work.  Weekends were spent at farmers markets, scenic drives through the woods, going to the movies.  It was pleasant.  In bed, he was romantic and caring, always careful and cautious with your body, wanting to make sure you were okay.  It was an absolutely stress free love affair.  And that was part of the problem.

After a while, you started to crave tension.  It showed up first in the bedroom when you asked him to pull your hair or talk dirty to you as a change of pace.  He tried, you had to give him credit for that.  But every time he uttered the word pussy or said he wanted to fuck you, the words came out whispered and hesitant.  You didn’t have the heart to tell him that even if he learned how to say those words with confidence, you would still be wanting much more than he was able to give.

Over time, you started to realize your dissatisfaction had worked its way into all your interactions.  He was always so agreeable.  You shared the same views on social matters and politics.  He never disagreed when you suggested a movie to watch or restaurant to go to.  You began to wonder if he really was someone who shared all your points of view on everything, all the time -- or was he just so conflict avoidant that he had given up having a personality of his own.

I bet that guy has a filthy mouth on him. Even if he is an asshole, I’m sure he knows how to have a good time. You pondered the raised barrier and were curious as to why he had not tried talking to you again.  It had been a couple of hours since your last interaction and he made it sound like you should be waiting for him to hit on you.  Oh my god - am I actually looking forward to that cocky son-of-a-bitch talking to me again? No, I’m just attention starved.  I need to start dating again -- but real men, not make believe celebrities with no shame.

The captain turned off the main lights in the cabin to give people an opportunity to sleep if they wanted.  You closed your eyes and reclined your seat.  Maybe it would be best to just try to sleep for a bit and put everything out of my mind.  You would be more clear headed if I just got some rest.

It was a few hours later when you awoke.  The cabin was quiet.  A few people conversed in hushed tones, the faint glimmer of an occasional video screen.  One of those glimmering screens was coming from your neighbor.  

You stretched a bit and moved your seat to be a little more upright.  Surprisingly, the window between your seats was down.  Did he lower it to try to talk to me while I was asleep?  You peered over at him and took comfort that he was fast asleep, clearly having dozed off while trying to watch a movie.  

His slumber gave you an opportunity to really look at him more closely. He looked serene and gentle when he wasn’t awake.  His facial features were really quite delicate, a high narrow nose bridge, moderately plump and perfectly pink lips, high cheekbones, his face was gently tanned by the sun.  You would describe him as almost pretty.  His clavicles were pronounced, his chest a bit paler than his face -- he must have been wearing his shirt when he went out in the California sun -- his abdomen was taut and firm, he clearly worked out.

You let your eyes travel further, until noticed something striking going on with his shorts.  At first you wondered if it was just an odd shadow being cast from the lights from the video screen, but the more you looked, the more certain you were that you were looking at an erection.  Not fully erect, you presumed, but there was enough that the draping of the fabric could not conceal everything he had going on between his legs.  This was the distinct form of a penis and you couldn’t stop staring at it.  

“See something you like down there?”

His voice caught you by such surprise you literally jumped in your seat and hit your elbow against the side wall, knocking over your headphones, sending them clattering to the floor.  “Ouch! No. What? I… what?  No.  I was just… I woke up and I saw the window thingy was down and was just checking to see if you wanted to talk to me or something… or you know.”

He laughed aloud, stretched his arms over his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “Were you planning on asking my dick whether or not I wanted to talk to you?  Because I doubt it’s going to tell you much.”

“What?! I.. no!  What are you talking about?”  You tried to act indignant to hide your humiliation at being caught staring at his genitals.  When trapped, deny everything, you thought.

“Are you married?  Have a boyfriend?”  He rolled to his side, still reclined in his seat.

“No.  Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I know I come on strong.  But life is short and I just think if you want something, you should say so.  And I want you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat at his directness, but you tried to hold your expression steady.  There was no point in getting involved with a guy like this.  “You don’t even know me.”

“Ah, let me be more clear.  I want to have sex with you. Right now.”  He carefully watched your face to judge your reaction. “Was that too forward?  I could try the romantic approach if you want, but I always feel like it’s a little dishonest.  I never want to mislead anyone.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and you felt a little light headed.  You had a couple one night stands back in your wilder college days, but those days were long gone.  Besides, no one had ever approached you quite like this.  “I appreciate your candor, but I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl do you think is the kind to say yes?”  He started to sit upright, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t know exactly.  You had two women in bed with you last night -- so those kinds of women, I guess.”

“Do you think you are better than them because they gave in to their carnal desires and just let themselves enjoy the moment?  No one was hurt.  There was no damage done.”

“How do you know there was no damage done?  You just left them there.”

He shook his head, dismissing your statement.  “They were groupies, star fuckers.  I was just a name on their bucket list.  Last night they had sex with me and tomorrow night they’ll be chasing down Shawn Mendes or some other dude.  I gave them what they wanted and they gave me a hell of a good time.  Is that so bad?”

This seemed so unbelievable to you. “Are you really famous?  Or have you just been messing with me?” 

“Is me being a celebrity the thing that will make the difference in whether you say yes or no to having sex with me?”  

You started to squirm under his gaze.  Until now, he had been cocky and arrogant, but it all seemed like a game.  Now, it was starting to get a little more serious and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.  “I don’t actually care if you’re famous or not.  I’m just not generally the kind of person who does whatever she wants -- there are rules against these kinds of things, you know?”

“So you admit that you want it too.”  He looked a bit too pleased with himself.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Are you sure?  It sounds to me like you are trying to talk yourself out of something you actually want.  What’s the point of that?  

You immediately thought of your ex-boyfriend again.  Simple, proper, agreeable and dull.  You had left him for want of more excitement and now here was a man you just met, who was offering you nothing but excitement.  But still, you hesitated, remaining silent but not explicitly saying no.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a condom, making sure you saw it before he slipped it into his pocket.  “Safety first,” he said.  “Also, no strings.  No commitments.  One time - no shame, no guilt.  No consequences.”

“I don’t know…” was all you could eke out.

“It’s time for you to figure out what you want.  So here’s the deal,” he sat up and turned to face you fully.  “I’m getting up and heading into that restroom over there,” he motioned toward the front of the plane, pointing to the left. “I’ll leave the door unlocked while I wait for you.  If you decide to join me, just pop in.  From there on, it’s ladies choice.  I can make it as sweet or as nasty as you want it to be.”

“What happens when I don’t show up?”

“IF you don’t show up, then you don’t show up.  I’m a big boy -- I’ll find other ways to occupy myself.”  With that, he stood up and swaggered away.

This is insane.  Who does this guy think he is? How full of himself is he that he can saunter off expecting me to follow him?  You glanced at the time on your phone.  I wonder how long he plans on waiting?

You remembered reading an article about people who have sex on airplanes; it said that almost 20 percent were complete strangers who met on the plane.  At the time you couldn’t imagine how something like that was even possible.  I guess I know now.  

You wanted to giggle to find yourself in this predicament.  You wanted to be outraged at how presumptuous he had been, but instead you found yourself feeling a bit flattered.  It’s just because I haven’t had much male attention in the past two months.  I’m just feeling a bit deprived - that’s all it is.  Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of doing something like this.  But you were entertaining it and it made you nervous.

You looked around the cabin, most of the other passengers were fast asleep.  The few who were awake mostly seemed to be watching movies with headphones on.  The flight attendants were chatting quietly on the right hand side of the galley, leaving the restrooms on the left side, mostly ignored.

What would my friends say?  Inha would think it’s gross.  Hyeweon would think it’s hilarious.  Dahyun would applaud you for taking risks and trying something new.  Chaewon would be jealous.

Six minutes. That’s how much time had passed.  How long will he wait?  10 minutes?  15?  Certainly not more than that.

You had met girls who were wild and slept around.  When you were younger you used to think that they would end up regretting their poor choices. Yet, you had never once met anyone who told you they wished they had less sex or that they had fewer adventures in their past.  Why are you overthinking this!  Be bad for once in your life.  Who have you ever talked to that regretted going wild?  Nobody - that’s who!  Regret is what you feel when you don’t do something, right?  But still… sex with a stranger?

You don’t even fully remember standing up and walking down the aisle.  All you knew was that your hand was on the door to the restroom and there was no turning back now.

There was no greeting.  No welcome.  Just his lips crashing into yours, fervently prying your mouth open with his tongue.  Your body stiffened in surprise but you did not try to pull away.  His skin was smoother than you expected, his scent was sweet and fresh like the air after a summer rain, his lips seemed far too soft for the violence and urgency of the kiss itself.  

In a far corner of your mind, you could hear your conscience telling you to stop, to run away and return to your seat, to retreat to the relative safety and comfort of your normal self.  But as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your tighter against his body, that voice became more and more distant, until finally it disappeared altogether. You finally relaxed, sinking into him and wrapping your tongue around his.  

Just let everything go and do as you please for once, you told yourself.  Just this once, with no fear and no regrets. 

His kisses moved to your neck as he began to maul you with his hands, squeezing your buttocks, reaching up to molest your breasts, grasping at them through your shirt.  His motions were rough and passionate.  His teeth scraped against your skin while he tugged at your shirt hem, trying to remove it.  You obliged his silent request by pulling away from his grasp, slipping your shirt over your head and tossing it on the counter.

He did not lean back in to continue kissing you.  Instead, he leaned back as much as he could in the confines of the tiny restroom to assess your body, lingering on your chest.  His hand reached out to trace the edges of your bra before he finally spoke to you.  “How do you want it?”

“Excuse me? I don’t under…”

“How do you want things to go?”  He looked up at you, holding your gaze.  “I told you this will be ladies choice.  Tell me what you want me to do?”

You could feel yourself starting to blush.  You had been comfortable letting him take control, but now that he was putting you on the spot to ask for what you wanted, you found yourself growing shy.  You broke eye contact with him and looked down at your feet, crossing your arms as you tried to think of what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased.  “You’re more delicate than I presumed.  So do you prefer gentle and sweet?  I can whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

“No.  Not like that.”  You shook your head to emphasize that romance was not your objective.  You had enough of romance and sweetness.

“Well then...  You want it dirty and you’re just too shy to ask for it?”

You shrugged your shoulders.  “I mean, some dirty talk might be nice.”

“Some?  Exactly how much is some?  I can get pretty filthy if you want me to.”

Awkwardly, you put your arms back by your side and glanced up at him, trying to feign confidence.  “How filthy?”

His eyes flashed with desire as he leaned closer to you, running his hands down your arms.  “Let’s try this.  Take off your bra and let me see you.”

You reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, a slight tremor in your hands.  You were extremely conscious of how bright the lights were and it made you a little nervous to be so exposed and so visible.  “What about you?” you asked as you let your bra slip off your shoulders and you placed it on top of your shirt.

“Me?”  He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it aside.  “Done.  Now we’re both topless.”  

He leered at your chest now, cupping your breasts in his hand as if weighing them.  “Very nice.  You have beautiful breasts.” He watched your face closely for a response.

“Thanks, I guess.”  You weren’t sure what he was expecting from you.

“That’s not it, huh?  How about this?”  He ran his thumbs over your nipples, brushing against them until they grew and hardened.  “I love a girl with a nice pair of tits.  Yours are amazing.  I can’t wait to suck on those nipples.”  

His directness was appealing.  “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Leaning down, he caught your left nipple between his lips and sucked at it, his tongue running circles over it.  The sensation was pleasant and you reached over to pull his hat off his head after suddenly being overwhelmed by the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“I told you I’m having a bad hair day, so just know that.”   He wagged a finger at you before pulling off his own hat and tossling his dark brown locks that had been matted down by hours confined under a hat. 

He bent back down back down to suckle at your nipples, his lips latched tightly to the protruding bud.  The suction sent little shock waves down between your legs as if your breasts were attached to your sex.  

Soon, he detached himself and stood back up, whispering in your ear.  “Your tits are tasty, but I bet your pussy is even better.”  His hand slid between your legs, kneading your cloth covered crotch.  Pulling back a little to better see your face, he asked you, “I want to touch your pussy.” He watched your reaction carefully.  “Or would you rather I finger fuck your cunt?”

Your previous boyfriend would have sooner died than ever uttered the dreaded “c” word.  But hearing a man you just met talk about your cunt thrilled you, and you could feel the moisture gathering between your legs.  “Finger my cunt, please,” you whispered back at him.

He smiled and nodded.  “Yeah, you do want it dirty don’t you?”

All you could do was nod in affirmation before he shoved his hand under the waistband of your pants and beneath your panties, tracing your slit before penetrating you with his fingers.  He slid in and out of your vagina, the palm of his hand cupping your vulva.  His lips returned to your neck, biting at you.  The heat of his breath matched the growing warmth of your sex.  “Oh, fuck!  That feels good,” you encouraged him to keep going.

“You like that?  You like having my fingers up your cunt hole?  You like getting finger banged by some dude in a public toilet?  Tell me again about what kind of girl you are.  Little miss prim and proper, my ass.”

Biting your lip, you tried to hold back, but you couldn’t help it.  You mewled like a cat to hear the filth coming from his mouth.  Your stomach fluttered at the crude way he described your reality.  You were now the kind of girl who lets a guy finger her in an airplane toilet.  This was not who you thought you were when you woke up this morning.

Enthused by the sounds emanating from you, he started to finger you more vigorously.  Slipping in a second digit and thrusting so hard, it shook your body.  His other hand slid up your back, over your neck until his fingers were entwined with your hair.  He ensnared a fistful of hair right at your scalp and pulled your head back, further exposing your neck to him.  He licked a line from your clavicle to your chin and then planted a long lingering kiss on your lips.

Your mewls turned into a full on moan.  Never had you been this turned on in your life.  “Oh my god,” was the most coherent thing you could say.

“I love those little noises you are making, but if this is how you get from a finger fuck, I can’t wait to see how you react when I’ve got my face buried in your snatch.  Now, let’s get these pants off of you.” 

He tugged at your waistband, lowering your pants and panties together, getting them to mid thigh when you took over - wiggling to get them to fall to the floor before kicking them off completely.  “Shouldn’t you be getting undressed too?” you asked.

“There’s some time before that’s necessary.  Let’s take care of you first.” He tried to kneel down, but the tiny confines of the bathroom made it difficult.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up off the floor and set you on to the narrow counter.

You sat precariously, one butt cheek halfway over the sink, and you could feel the cold hard metal of the faucet pressing uncomfortably into your backside.  Before you could adjust yourself, you felt hands pressing your thighs upwards, bending your knees into your chest and without warning, something soft and wet snaking through the folds of skin between your legs. You clung tightly to the edge of the counter to keep from slipping off.

Looking to your side, you could see your reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, your naked body illuminated by the harsh light overhead.  The rather unflattering lighting and pose was offset by the amazingly lurid sight of a man kneeling on the floor, his head pressed between your thighs.

He lapped at your clit, dragging his tongue across your pussy - wet and sloppy.  You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices just as he came up for air.  “That’s one juicy and delicious cunt you got there.  You get this wet for all the boys, or is it special for me?” he asked before diving back in, opening his mouth wide as if trying to devour you whole.

It felt amazing.  The heat inside your grew with every stroke of his tongue against your raw flesh.  He let go of one thigh and brought it to you damp slit, further spreading your lips apart.  His nose pressed against your clit while he inserted his tongue where his fingers had been earlier.  Sucking and slurping away at you.

“Mmmmmmmm…”  You desperately tried to keep quiet.  Biting down hard on your lower lip to prevent yourself from being overheard by the people outside, but still the occasional hushed moan or hum would escape your lips.  The noises spurred him on to keep going, rubbing his face into you, covering himself with the glistening evidence of your arousal.

He let go of your other thigh to insert his fingers back into you while his lips affixed themselves directly to your clit.  His fingers curving upward as he pumped them in and out of you, hitting your g spot with every stroke, while his tongue laved your clit.  “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded as you grabbed on to his hair and pulled his face tighter into you. “Please.”

You extended your legs, realizing that the bathroom was so small that you could sit on the counter and plant your feet on the opposite wall, helping stabilize you enough that you could close your eyes and just let yourself feel the pleasure of this man ministering to your sex.  

As your orgasm approached, you could feel you leg start to shake and your breath quicken.  He sucked lightly at your clit before pulling back the hood and drawing his tongue gently across the surface.  You gasped aloud at the intensity, which he took notice of.  “You like that?  You like being spread open wide and licked like a bitch in heat?  Tell me.”

“Yeah.  I like it.”

“What do you like?  Say it.  You aren’t the only one who wants to hear some dirty talk.  Tell me what exactly you like.”

“I like it when you lick my cunt.  I like the way your tongue feels against my clit.  God, I’m going to cum if you keep doing it like this.”

Smiling, he returned to his duties; his mouth placed firmly against you and slurping at you like eating a ripe piece of fruit.  He removed his fingers from inside you and instead used them to spread you pussy lips even wider open.  The loss of sensation from within you was disappointing.  You were so close to cumming right on his face, but the urgent desire to have something inside you was growing stronger.

“I need you inside me,” you implored.  

He didn’t hesitate.  Standing up from his position on the floor, he massaged the growing bulge in his shorts for a moment while staring directly into your eyes.  “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes wandered down to where his hand was playing with himself.  “I want you to fuck me.   I want it so bad, you don’t even know.” Any reservations or shyness you once had was driven out by the overwhelming lust.

“Oh, I know.” His conceit was amazing, but you were too horny to care.  

“So what are you waiting for?”

He pulled his shorts and underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving him completely naked in front of you.  His body was lean and taut, the image of youthful sexuality.  His dick stood proudly erect in front of him, firm and smooth.  Between his two fingers, he held up the condom that he had stealthily removed from his pocket.  “You, put it on me,” he demanded.

Sliding off the counter, you welcomed being able to stand upright for a moment, with nothing poking you in the back and no fear of accidentally slipping off.  But once again the space was so cramped, that you could not both stand on the floor and not have your bodies collide.  His distended dick brushed against your pussy as you grabbed the condom from his hand.

He leaned in and kissed you again, deeply and passionately.  “Can you taste yourself?  You were fucking delicious, I could have stayed down there for hours.  You should know what you taste like.”  With that comment, he slipped his finger back between your folds, dipping into your juices and pulling out a slick and glazed finger.  He held it to your lips.  “Suck my finger and taste for yourself.”

You balked at first, never having even thought of what you might taste like.  But he pressed forward and you grew curious, opening your mouth until he laid his finger on your tongue.  You licked his finger clean, intrigued to see if you were as delicious as he had claimed.  The salty sweet mixture was better than you imagined.  “Good girl,” he told you.

Fumbling with the condom wrapper, you finally got it open and reached down to grab hold of his manhood.  You held him in your palm and enclosed your fingers around him, meaning to hold him steady while you slipped the condom over the head of his dick, but you couldn’t resist stroking him with your hand for a moment.  He sighed contentedly at the sensation and leaned back against the wall, allowing you more room to see what you were doing.

His penis was beautifully formed, you thought.  Big enough but not too big.  Firm and hefty, the girth felt just right in your hand.  Without thinking, you pressed the head of his cock against your slit and stroked it against your clit.  His eyes flew open wide and he looked down at what you were doing.  

“Were you planning to fuck me raw?” he asked.

“No, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You quickly slipped the condom over the tip and rolled it down his shaft.  Although, you had to admit that the idea of having condomless sex seemed appealing -- but you had not yet lost all your sense of self preservation.  “Now you have a little bit of my pussy juice under the condom with you.”  

“You act so normal, but you’re a freak in the sheets, aren’t you?”  He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around so he was pressed into your back while you could see his face reflected back at you in the mirror over the sink.    “Now, spread your legs and hold still while I shove my cock up your hot little fuck-hole.”

You keened at the vulgarity, spreading your legs wide and leaning forward enough to arch your back slightly, giving him better access.  He leaned over you, squatting down slightly to slip his penis into you, pressing his chest against your back and then thrusting upward, pushing forward and burying himself to his hilt inside your pussy.

“Good god, you are so warm inside.”  He slowly pulled himself out before thrusting up into you again and again… and again.  Slow and steady, he fucked you for several minutes, but you wanted more and started pushing back against him, egging him on to fuck you faster.  

“Nice, “ was all he said before slapping your ass and speeding up his thrusts. 

“Yeah,” you panted.  “Very nice.”

He folded his body over you, planting one hand on the counter to hold him steady and sliding the other hand around you to stroke your clit while he fucked you.  You could feel an ache starting to build up inside you and wanted more.  You raised one leg and placed it on top of the closed toilet seat lid, spreading yourself open wider and giving him greater access to you.   

As his fingers drummed against your clit, his thrusts accelerated.  His body engulfed you and his mouth was pressed against your ear where he whispered to you.  “Such a good girl, huh?  Is this what you do?  Fuck total strangers in bathrooms?  You act all proper, but you really just want to get a good pounding in your cunt by some random dude.  You don’t even know my name, do you?”

For the first time, it dawned on you that you had never bothered to ask his name.  Nor had he asked for yours.  The realization both appalled and thrilled you.  This was by far the most depraved thing you had ever done.  “What is your name?” you asked while he continued to plunge his cock deep into you.

“What does it matter now?  You are fucking a total and absolute stranger.  I’m going to make sure you cum on the cock of a guy whose name you don’t know.  Just think about that, my dick is rammed up your cunt and you like it.  What does that make you?”

You tried to fight the moan building in your throat.  His words should offend you but instead they brought you closer to the edge.  “A slut,” you answered him.  “Fucking a total stranger makes me a slut.”

“That’s okay,” he consoled you.  “I’m a dirty slut too.”

He grabbed your breast and buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on the skin.  His fingers continued their assault on your clit while he pounded away at you pussy.  Finally, you came undone, gasping, open mouthed in a silent scream as your orgasm hit with full force.  Your body shook and all you could do was whimper quietly until finally the feeling subsided.

“Oh my god.  That was amazing,” you turned around to face him.

“I’ll say.” He looked desperate and his eyes blown wide.  “I could feel you pulsing around my cock.  I was so close to cumming myself.  I just need a little more to take me over the edge.”

“What exactly do you want?”

He moved you to the other side of the room so he could now sit on top of the closed toilet seat.  Slipping off the condom, he told you exactly what he wanted.  “Suck me off.  I want to cum down your throat.”

You looked at his dick, standing ramrod straight, leaking precum from the tip.  It looked ready to bust and you felt a strange pride that you had managed to get him this turned on.  Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth.

His brow furrowed as he watched you bobbing your head up and down, snaking your tongue along his shaft.  One hand held your hair back while the other balled up in a fist and rested on the counter.  He was holding back, you could tell.

Redoubling your efforts, you locked your lips around him and focused on the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the sensitive tip, before inching down further until you had swallowed as much of his flesh as you could stand.

“Fuck yeah. You are really good at this.  You must have sucked a lot of dick.”  For a guy who claimed to have had sex with two women the night before, you took this as a significant compliment.  “I’m not going to last long if you keep this up.”

You came back up for air and smiled.  Gripping his saliva covered cock, you stroked his shaft while planting delicate kisses at the tip.  “I want to see you cum.  I want to taste you.  If I’m going to be a slut, I want it all.”  You then plunged your head back down, sucking him like your life depended on it.  You wanted him to remember you the next time he got his dick sucked by some random girl.  Your pride depended on it.

It was only a couple minutes when he started to completely lose himself.  You watched as he pursed his lips and threw his head back.  His grip on your hair tightened and his eyes glazed over while you could see his abdomen contract and then you tasted it.  The slightly salty, slightly bitter taste of his cum landed on your tongue.  You pushed your head down further so he could truly cum down your throat and making it easier to swallow.  It was only a few spurts, but they seemed to come out with great force, nearly making you choke.   

When he was done, his body relaxed and he slumped forward.  “My god, I’m going to need a nap after that.  You sucked the life right out of me.”  He leaned down, placing his hand under your chin and tipping your face upwards, planted a soft and rather sweet kiss on your lips.  “Thank you.  This was wonderful,” he said.

“The feeling is mutual.”

After giving yourselves a minute to bask in the afterglow, you both started the clumsy task of getting redressed in the tight confines of the bathroom.  You bumped into each other, knocking into the walls and accidentally turning on the sink, until finally you were both dressed and ready to step outside.  

As soon as you opened the door, a flight attendant stood in the passageway and greeted you with a knowing look.  “If you both want to retake your seats, we’ll begin breakfast service soon and should be landing in another hour and a half.”

Mortified, you returned to your seat and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone else on the plane.  Had they all heard you?  Did everyone know?  Your partner in crime seemed unphased and immediately fell asleep as soon as he sat down.

The rest of the flight seemed to go without incident.  You refused breakfast in order to avoid talking to the attendant and hid yourself behind your book.  You tried to read, but the truth was you couldn’t help replaying the events from just an hour before while you grinned like a giddy schoolgirl, amazed that you had been caught doing something extremely naughty but somehow escaped punishment.  You doubted that you would be able to think about anything else for days to come.

Once the plane landed, your neighbor finally awoke and stretched out.  He looked across at you and smiled warmly.  “Hey, I just want to say that I enjoyed our flight and will remember this fondly.  I hope you will too.”

You tried to look look cool and unfussed, although you were secretly happy that he wasn’t completely ignoring you and running off without saying anything like he did to those girls from the night before.  “I have no regrets.  It was a good time.”  You stood up to gather your things and wait to get off the plan, but noticed he was making no moves.  “Are you just going to hang out on the plane?”

“I have to get off last.  It’s too much chaos with the fans in the terminal, so I’ll get off later with my team.  It gives the other passengers time to get by before the mob of fans and paparazzi obstruct everything.”

“Ah, right,” you said, disbelieving. You wondered if this was just a ploy to separate from you and cover up for the fact that he had been playing at being a celebrity this whole time.  “Out of curiosity, what is your name?”

He thought for a moment before answering.  “You can just call me Jay.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” he responded honestly.  “Let’s just say that it’s something of a nickname that I’ve been given.  It seems the most appropriate way for you to remember me.”

You shrugged your shoulders and decided to not break the illusion.  “Well, Jay, thanks for everything.”  You gave him a small wave good-bye before stepping into the aisle with the rest of the exiting passengers and left him behind forever.

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

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Mini-Epilogue:

You walked down the wide concourse, pulling your luggage behind you.  You were largely unaware of your surroundings since you attention was on your phone, trying to text your friends that you had landed and make plans for seeing them later in the evening.  You had already been practicing in your head how you would tell them about your adventurous flight and the mystery man who made it so memorable.  

Behind you, you could suddenly hear a loud commotion.  Girls cheering and yelling, the rushing of feet.  You turned to see what was going on and could see the flashing of cameras as a crush of people moved towards the exits.  You strained to see who was at the center of all the excitement.

“Do you know what’s going on?” you asked an older man standing next to you who was also watching the crowd pass by.

“It’s one of those idol boys.  The girls go nuts for them.  I saw one of the girls carrying a sign saying ‘Welcome back J-Hope’.  What kind of name is J-Hope anyway?  It sounds weird if you ask me.”

“I’ve never heard of him.  He must not be too famous.”  

“Exactly.  These girls should all be in school and not following around some no name nobody.”  The man threw his hands up in disgust before walking off.

You turned to go your own way, but a thought nagged at you.  You tapped the name J-Hope into your phone and smiled at the results. The story you would tell your friends just got a bit more interesting.

[anika-ann]

The Troubles Are Lurking in Queens - Pt.1

Of Arrogant Lawyers and Cheerful… Spider Vigilantes?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader        Word count: 1860 

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Warnings: swearing, mention of attempted assault and a gun and a knife, pregnancy, adorable Peter Parker aka your friendly neighbour Spiderman

Summary: When an arrogant lawyer demands his paperwork right now or better yet this very moment, you’re a good wife to Matt and decide to deliver the documents yourself – for your husband’s mental health sake (and for the sake of the meeting he’s running to).

The catch is the said lawyer has his office in Queens – and whoever said Hell’s Kitchen was the least safe place in NYC was clearly lying. 

You were staring at barrel of a gun. And your first thought was: the universe is punishing me for falsifying legal documents.

It happened approximately like this:

“Mr. Davidson-” Matt murmured, massaging the bridge of his nose, giving up the struggle of tying up his tie with one hand. Though that might have had something to do with the fact you snatched the said hand away to do it for him.

“I understand you would like to have the-"

You couldn’t make out a word, but the male voice on the other end sounded downright outraged. This Mr. Davidson had been pissing you off for quite a while; he was the opposite counsel on one of Matt’s cases and he was making everything difficult in the line of paperwork, well-aware Matt was going to dismantle him. 

He. Was. Indescribably. Arrogant. Which was something you just couldn’t stand and it drove you up the wall.

“I just don’t have time right— no, I do not have a messenger boy on my disposal just to deliver the documents to you, you can be sure as-" You covered Matt’s mouth before he could swear, gaining a look as grateful as frustrated and wounded.

Oh yeah, you would love to even send this guy to hell and back just to kick him back down there, but Matt had a professional image to maintain. He inhaled deeply.

“Mr. Davidson, I’ll even deliver you the document myself-"

“With coffee and ‘go fuck yourself’…” you hummed as you finished the tie, causing the corners of Matt’s lips twitch.

“-but I just can’t do it before noon.”

Matt listened to the man’s raised voice for a while, grinding his teeth.

You felt really sorry for Matt. And what did a good wife do when feeling sorry for her husband? Helped him.

“I can deliver it.”

Matt shook his head, covering the phone. “I need to print it in non-braille version somewhere and sign it. I don’t have time for that-"

“I can sign it,” you shrugged. Matt’s eyebrow shot up. “What? I saw you sign stuff more times than I can count. It will be fine.”

“That’s a fraud.”

“It stays in a family. I’ll be signing by my own last name.”

Matt’s features softened at the note, but he didn’t change his mind. “That’s still a fraud, sweetheart.”

You pointed at the phone wordlessly; the man on the other end of the was so caught up in his monologue, enchanted by listening to the sound of his own voice, that he didn’t even notice no one was responding.

Matt pouted in an ‘okay, you have a point’ way. His eyebrow furrowed with concern – of course it did. He always worried about you, sometimes for a good reason, however, lately… ever since you two had found out you were going to be parents, a new life growing in your belly… well. Matt was anxious and downright paranoid.

“You would do it?”

“Sure. I could use a walk.” Oh, you could. You might be having a day off, but sitting on a couch all day might actually kill you.

“It’s in Queens.”

“...and a subway ride.”

He still seemed to struggle.

“-are you even listening to me?!”

And that did it. Matt cracked. “Of course, Mr. Davidson. You’ll have the documents before noon.”

“Now was that so hard?”

Matt inhaled sharply and you quickly took the phone from his hand.

“Mr. Murdock put you through to me. I’ll deliver you the documents. It was a pleasure to deal with you, Mr. Davidson,” you chatted sweetly and ended the call. Matt was watching you, pressing his lips together, clearly holding back a smile.

“You’re a mischief.” 

He kissed you forehead lovingly.

“Me?” you asked innocently. “I was perfectly polite. He was being a dick. Now, you mean the papers for the Howard’s case, right? Speak fast or you really will be late for your meeting…”

That was how you found yourself on your way to Mr. Davidson’s office in Queens, two copies of whatever paperwork with yours/Matt’s signature and the bloody Google maps app that wasn’t counting on alleyways. And you had about four extra pounds just in your belly, so you really wanted to count any shortcut in.

On a second thought, maybe God was not punishing you for the little fraud with the signatures but for your laziness.

Now you were staring at a barrel of a gun, four pounds of living growing mass of your baby in your belly and you really didn’t know how to fight the mugger off. The memory of Matt’s voice reminding you the first rule – run from the danger – was shushed by a dreamed voice of his that was telling you to just give the thug your fucking purse, because running was not an option in your state and situation; on top of everything, Mr. Davidson’s ‘now was that so hard?’ mocked you and you mentally yelled YES.

“Are you deaf too? Give me your fucking bag!”

“Okay, okay— just… just don’t shoot! I’ll give you my phone and wallet, but I have some legal papers I can’t-”

He shot into air and you jumped, your instinct screaming at you how to disarm him – Matt had taught you how, you had actually done it before, because you fucking lived in Hell’s Kitchen, the most dangerous area in NYC, Matt had taught you for a reason. But another instinct – not to take any risks and protect your baby – was much stronger. You gulped, feeling tears gathering in your eyes.

“Please, just— just don’t hurt me.” Don’t hurt the baby. “Here-"

You barely managed to extend your hand with the handbag when something white curled around the gun – more like cocooned it – and pulled the weapon away.

Both you and your assailant gasped.

“Fuck.”

“Up here, bad guy!” a cheerful male voice called out and you fought the urge to look up, not wanting to leave the still dangerous man out of your sight.

Good thing you didn’t; he pulled out a knife and lunged after you.

You barely dodged the knife and caught his forearm. He seemed surprised at your defence, but let the knife fall, trying to catch it with his free hand. You listened to your first instinct – you deflected the knife before he caught it.

You managed to kick his knee and then his both legs were suddenly tied together with the strange white-- thingie and the thug was pulled away, cursing.

You blinked in shock, looking in the direction he was being dragged. A strange man of not so strong built, dressed in blue and red costu— armour, it must have been an armour, because he was obviously stopping a crime in a dress-up, which made him a vigilante. And as a vigilante wife, you knew vigilantes were in fact not wearing costumes, but armours.

“What kind of a douche attacks a pregnant woman?!” he demanded exasperatedly and with one motion of his wrist, the mugger’s hands were tied too. “Coward!”

And he knocked him out, tossing him aside, looking up at you. What kind of a mask was that? The strange eye area-- and was that a spider emblem on his chest?

He took several steps towards you and you instinctively stumbled back.

This guy might have saved your ass, but he was still a stranger, shooting some white sticky substance from his wrist and he was wearing a spider themed cos- armour and it was really creepy. Which said something considering your own husband was lurking at night dressed like the Devil himself.

“Hey, it’s okay! I’m not gonna hurt you! I promise!”

He held out his hands, showing you they were empty and that he meant no harm. Jesus, he was so thin. Was he even a man? Was he a kid? Like, a teenager? His voice sounded like it still some masculine changes to go through.

“Who are you?” you asked cautiously. ‘How old are you?’

“I came to help! I’m just your friendly neighbour Spiderman!”

The who now? “I’m not... from the neighbourhood. I’m-"

“-BLEEDING! Oh god, oh god. You really showed the guy, but you’re bleeding. Oh god, oh shit— now that’s more money to the swear jar-" the kid, and you were now sure he was a kid, started panicking and you had no idea why, because-- oh. 

Your hand was bleeding.

“Oh.”

“Oh god, I have to get you to a hospital-"

You froze. “That’s not necessary-” You didn’t have time for a hospital now. You needed to deliver the stupid papers; your hand had to wait, it didn’t look too deep, you’d be fine. Though it did kinda hurt, how had you missed that?

“What?!” the kid squeaked. “You’re bleeding! I should have done better, oh no-"

You felt a ridiculous urge to comfort him all of sudden, so you crossed the distance, boldly caressing his arm.

“Hey, no, you did great-"

“But you’re bleeding, miss— madam? I should probably go with madam-"

You pressed her lips together so you wouldn’t laugh at his babbling. Had he noticed your ring? Maybe it was your growing belly.

“It’s alright, Spiderman. You saved me from getting shot and mugged, that’s wonderful.”

He looked up. “So you’re not mad at me? Why don’t you want me to take you to the hospital then?”

“Because-"

“Of course! Karen, call mister Stark!” he blurted out, delighted he found a solution.

“What?!”

You wanted to ask who Karen was and where she had been hiding, but Stark’s name kinda caught your attention more urgently. Call Stark? You would hope he was talking about a different Stark, but this kid had some sort of a suit and was playing hero, so-

“It’s okay, he’ll help-” the boy was quick to reassure you, poor kid not having  clue why you did not want to see Tony Stark in the slightest.

“No!”

“He’s a good guy!”

“I don’t need-"

“Oh, Mr. Stark! Thank god. I have a woman— no, not a girlfriend, I mean-- no, not an experimental intimate stuff mentor-"

You almost choked on your own spit. Now you had no doubt he was talking to Tony freaking Stark, because he would make a remark like that. Wonderful. You hadn’t been interacting too much with Tony; in fact, you had only met once, the meeting being pretty intense, with blood, kidnapping and stuff.

“An injured one! She was almost mugged and she’s pregnant and she’s bleeding— from her hand!” he explained exasperatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. “And she wouldn’t go to the hospital and she’s saying it’s not necessary, but-”

There was a short silence and you wondered what Tony was saying, where, when, how and WHY had he recruited a kid and what the hell was all this.

You checked the time, finding out you really needed to go.

“I’ll show you how she is. Karen, initiate a video call-"

“No! Wait!” you yelped, lunging after a non-existent phone, desperately wanting to stop him. Oh no, please, you so didn’t have time for Tony Stark. You were sure that if Stark saw you, he would recognize you and-

“Mr. Stark is saying I should definitely bring you-"

-and would want you to come. 

You raised your hands in defensive gesture. “I’m walking away.”

You looked around, gathered your handbag and stuff, spun on your heels-

“No way! Mr. Stark thinks you need medical attention-"

“I’ll make sure he needs medical attention unless I’m walking away.,” you growled loudly, more annoyed than anything else. “I really need to deliver these papers-"

“Oh! Where?! I’ll drop them off for you, madam! Maybe it’s even on our way! Where do you need them?”

You were so stunned you stuttered an address.

“Great! Let’s go!”

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Part 2 (final)

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Thank you for reading!

(This is an oldie, might feel a bit different than my usual stuff)

[jamilelucato]

Stay — George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor!reader

Requested: yes

hello hehe, i saw ur recent post and can i request a hufflepuff/gryffindor reader? idk but completely uty, also! for song recommendations idk if youre a fan but maybe change my mind or 18 or once in a lifetime by one direction? ahh hope this helps

Summary: (based in Change My Mind, by 1D) y/N is Gryffindor student sad because she’s no longer a first year, but the Weasley twins promised to help her feel like every day is better than the last — and with George by her side, she thinks it’ working.

A/N: Not one of my favs because I just didn’t know how to end? I guess I’m just really bad at writing short fics lol

Words: 2.435

It's funny remembering when you were one of the first years, walking in Hogwarts surprised and excited, staring at every detail and corner, anxious to walk around and discover new things.

But now, as a sixth year, things were slightly different. Firstly, nothing was a surprise — in fact, thanks to Fred and George Weasley, you knew every corner of the castle. Secondly, because you were starting to get sad. You'd soon be leaving, and you loved the school too much to think about a day you wouldn't come back to Hogwarts.

You were watching the kids get sorted — two had already been selected to Gryffindor, and your table was cheering still — when George poked you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, in a low voice.

His eyes were sparkling joyfully, but he seemed worried about you. You shrugged.

"Can you believe that just six years ago, those kids were us?" you said, looking at the new Gryffindor boy, who was happy with his house, "And next year will be our last?"

George proceeded careful, noticing that it was a delicate matter to you.

"Don't think of it like that. We still have a lot to enjoy — it's only the first day of two long years to come," he pointed out with a sympathetic smile. "Stick around Fred and me, I'm sure we'll make every minute an adventure."

His lasts words made you smile. Those boys were generally trouble, but you would give anything to spend more time around them, especially George.

He had no idea of your crush, of course, because you would never gather courage for that. You liked the way you were; close friends to hang around and make jokes. You didn't want to ruin it for a thing you were sure was not mutual.

"Thanks, George," you sighed, giving in. "Do invite me to your messing around," you continued but regretted at the same time.

What were you thinking? That sounded incredibly odd!

"Yours and Fred's pranks, I mean," you quickly added, hoping to have fixed it.

He didn't seem to care, giggling even at your embarrassment.

"Sure, y/N, I'll be in touch."

***

You were thankful for having a friend in Ravenclaw. Anna was a short girl, with freckles all around her face, but she had an extra cute accent. She became your friend after being paired with you to the Transfiguration's classes, and seeing how untalented you were for that class, she offered to help you — in that way, your duo would never be behind.

You two were currently in the Library, going over the last thing Professor McGonagall had taught. We were actually doing well with those lessons, and even Anna was surprised.

"I think my help might be working," she commented, smiling.

Anna had left, she had some things to do, but you stayed in the Library, rereading everything she had helped you study, in hopes to stick the content in your mind.

Fred and George Weasley walked in, with confident smiles. They looked around, and you waited in silence, pretending not to be interested.

George did stick to his promise — every time he and his brother planned some mischief, they asked you to tag along, and you did, happily.

You had lost count of how many pranks you helped them with, but the funniest was, no doubt when they Engorgio Professor Flitwick —he was about to start the class; there wasn't a student that didn't start laughing.

You weren't surprised when they took a turn to your direction. Fred sat at your side and George in front of you, gazing at your eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" you asked, faking an accent you did not have.

"We need your assistance, ma'am," said Fred, his voice a pitch higher than his brother had become recognizable for you over the years.

"For, so, we have a problem," George continued, copying your fake accent, "and we heard around these parts that you are the one they say is good with the Potions."

You raised your brows, letting your lips shape a smirk.

"I might be able to help you, gentlemen," you said, diverting your eyes to each of the twins, "but I will need to be convinced I will be saved by your secrecy."

"We will make sure thou, miss, are protected," George responded, smirking too.

Fred sighed, giving up the play.

"Ok, ok, now that we have your 'yes'," he said, in a rush looking around to see if anyone could hear you, "we need to start as soon as possible."

The older twin got up, and, with the help of George, they packed all of your spellbooks that were over the table. Fred took the ones that were from the Library and walked to return them to their places, leaving you and George alone for a while.

George took your backpack, throwing it over his shoulder, and he pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know if he should.

"What have you guys planned?" you asked. You couldn't stay in silence around George, it made you too nervous.

"Fred wants to prank Malfoy," he said, shrugging, "then we are heading to the kitchen to get some food for Harry."

You stared at him, confused with what Harry Potter had to do with it.

"He had an excellent score at the first task of Triwizard Tournament, remember?"

You looked at him, squeezing your lips together while you shrugged.

"You stayed in during the task?" he asked, losing his smile.

"I had to study," you replied, not really caring about missing the spectacle.

"No, you didn't!" he raised his voice, seeming to be angry. "I thought you were with your friends, that's why I didn't go looking for you. But now I see I should've."

"Don't be too bothered —  I bet Harry was awesome, so I wouldn't have seen anything too new," you pointed out, trying to calm him down and being thankful when Fred reappeared.

"Ok, who's ready?"

***

The potion Fred and George wanted you to prepare was theoretically simple, but it would take at least two days to be ready, so they gave up on pranking Draco Malfoy that night, postponing it to when you managed to finish the potion.

George still looked bummed out for not noticing you weren't at the Triwizard Tournament first task, but he didn't scold you anymore.

The kitchen was rather quiet since the feast was over. Gryffindors were instructed by the twins to eat not much because they'd be able to do it at Harry's surprise party later.

You had a way with house-elves, they seemed to like you very much, and Fred thought it was good to have you around to get extra food.

"Stay away from these, do you hear me?" he said, pointing to some sort of candy he was dropping a liquid on top.

"Sure, chief" you giggled, scared of what magic could that be.

George still had your backpack in his back, even when you said you could carry it yourself.

You three walked in Gryffindor common room and came across a lot of students, wearing casual clothes, all possibly waiting for the party to start.

Fred took the snacks and started talking to Lee Jordan about where to organize everything, but you and George were left behind.

"I'm sorry I missed the task. I didn't know it was that important," you said, looking down, avoiding George's eyes, "I'll be there for the next one."

"You don't have to apologize — I just overreacted," he replied. "It's not up to me if you watch the Tournament or not."

"Don't worry; it's nice knowing you care," you smiled, trying to convince him you weren't mad at him.

He gave you your backpack back, and you rushed to your room to leave it there. Someone shouted Harry Potter was coming and you all stayed in silence, to surprise him.

You were next to George, sat down at one of the couches.

"SURPRISE!" someone shouted, followed by a thousand others, when Harry walked in, followed by Ron and Hermione.

That was the kick the party needed to start. Everybody started eating, talking, joking, some were playing card games by the fire. You didn't get up from the couch next to George, too scared of losing an opportunity to be next to him. But you two didn't stay there for longer. He put your names to the next round of games with cards, and after the game, you were playing judge for the twins — they wanted to see who could eat more in one minute.

"Sorry, Georgie, but Fred won," you said, checking your chronometer one more time.

George didn't look upset, but his twin looked beyond happy.

"I won! I won!" he shouted melodically.

"Maybe a glass of water?" you offered George as Fred walked away screaming.

"Thank you," George said after you gave him the glass. "maybe next time I'll beat him."

You giggled and said, "I hardly doubt that."

"You don't think I could have won?"

"Well, based on the way you were just now, no," you answered.

"You disappointed me," he pretended to be shocked, positioning his free hand over his heart as you sat down next to him. You both laughed hard.

***

The party went on until 1 a.m., but you and George were so focused on your game that you didn't even notice everyone gone.

"Are you guys staying?" Fred asked before going up the stairs.

"We have to finish the game," Geoge answered, not looking to his brother.

You looked at Fred and smiled, "He says he can win me, but that's a lie!"

It was just five minutes after Fred left that you won the match.

"I won!!" you shouted.

George looked worried at you. "People are sleeping, y/N."

"You're just mad because you are not the winner," you replied, crossing your arms.

"I let you win," he crossed his arms as well.

"HA! As if!" you shouted, rolling your eyes.

You both started laughing, so distracted at the moment that you didn't even care that it was late in the night. However, even if you had noticed it, you wouldn't have changed a thing — having George around was I you wanted, you weren't going to waste it.

"Maybe we should go," George said, getting up.

You didn't want the moment to end, so you stayed sitting on the floor, and hugged your legs.

"One more game, how about it?" you suggested, quickly thinking of a way for him to stay. "You can try to win me."

He paused, stopping close to the staircase. You couldn't tell what could be going on inside his head. Did he want to stay? Was he thinking of a polite way to say 'no'?

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course!" you answered without giving much thought to it.

Then it hit you. The way he asked — how his eyes gazed at yours with expectation. George wasn't just asking if you wanted to play again, he asked if you wanted him to stay. It could have sounded simple, but it was far from that — and even if he wasn't thinking between the lines, now you were, and your heart was beating so fast you thought that George had a big chance of winning, but not just the game.

He was still staring at you, but this time, he was sitting on the floor next to you. You slowly let your legs down.

"So, huh, the game..." you said, trying to diverge your eyes from his, but failing.

"The game, yes," he repeated and reached for the cards. "Aren't you tired?" 

Boy, I'm more than wake! you thought but said nothing, swallowing nervously.

"Tired? A bit," you gave in, "Which is lucky for you, 'cause you might be able to win me."

"Maybe I don't want to win you," he says, as if a confession, "not in the game, at least."

You didn't know what to answer. It couldn't be real; you were going to wake up in your room. George, the George Weasley, your crush since he helped you find your class in the first year, was now showing reciprocity?

"George," you used a warning tone, "if you don't mean it, please don't continue."

"What?" you had caught him by surprise.

He was very close to you, your faces just centimetres away and you wondered, looking at him so confused, you thought perhaps you were reading too much into it.

"If you are..." you elaborated, breathing hard with his proximity, "being a prankster right now, if you don't mean what you are going to say, then just don't. Please."

He swallowed. "I'm not pranking right now if that's what you wanna know..." he replied, "unless.."

"No 'unless'. If you mean me, I'm serious. I'm always serious."

"OI! JUST KISS ALREADY!" a voice shouted from upstairs, and you thought it was probably Fred.

You and George exchanged looks, before giggling at his twin. And, catching you by surprise, George reached for your chin, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in what felt like an explosion — of anxiety, of desire, of passion.

George tasted just like you imagined it — sweet. But he wasn't delicate; he seemed hungry, hungry to pull you closer, to tie you in his arms, to hold you, squeeze you. You liked that passion, especially because it was something you didn't imagine George like.

His touch, all over your body, sent chills all over your spine, and you wanted more, more and more.

You didn't know how long you stayed there in the common room kissing, but you were thankful to be from the same house as him, in that way, the kiss could last more; you didn't have to rush to your house.

When you finally pulled way was because you were, officially, tired.

"Thank you," you said, pulling away.

"Thank you?" he repeated, in a mocking tone. "I should say that."

You giggled while getting up with his help.

"Same time tomorrow?" he proposed and you smiled, feeling your cheeks turn red as his hair.

You nodded your head a 'yes'.

"IT WAS ABOUT TIME!" Fred shouted again, and you started wondering if he could have watched the whole snogging session.

"Somewhere else, tho," you added, tilting your head towards the direction of Fred's voice, meaning that you didn't want him around.

"Definitely," George agreed, pulling you for just one more kiss before you went to bed.

[pbandjesse]

I just got so super tired in the last hour. I don't even know why! But it was an excellent day overall. I felt a lot better. I mean I am still stressed but like. I think that stealed me up for this morning.

I slept. Fine. Getting to sleep was terrible. I cried a lot. I was just so tired but also so upset. I eventually fell asleep. And woke up every couple hours because I was anxious.

I woke up and got dressed and felt very powerful. My outfit was just so good and also my boots were great. Made me feel strong. And very quickly we were off and on the road to the dealership.

On the ride there I quickly got an estimate for our car for a trade in value. I wanted a number in my pocket. I texted with dad. It made me feel a little better to have him hear what the plan was.

And then we were there. Ryan, the dealer, was very nice. He said to take a drive while they got paperwork set up. And it was fun. Also terrifying. My blind spot in this car is very different then the old car. I almost merged into someone! WIth only 7 miles on the whole car! I was a little shaken up so me and James switched and they drove for a while. We did some just driving and checking out about the car. It was fun.

We got back to the dealership and that's when the stupid game starts. I don't understand why cars are sold like this. It almost feels like if it was written in a story it would feel fake. First thing we talked about the trade in. The Camery is 10 years old. Is covered in scratches. Has a dent in the side. Has a torn seat. A wear thing on the dashboard. The ceiling fabric is thumb tacked up. The breaks screach and it thumps when you break. So they offered us $.1500. But I have the estimate number in my pocket. And so with that I was able to get them to give us $3000 instead. And then the interest rate we were able to get down almost a whole percent.

And then!! After we signed everything we went to finalize it with the financial guy and we were able to get a few more extras for discounted. I was super proud of us. There was one issue of me not knowing where the title was. I am sure we will find it here. Just wasn't something I was aware of, I thought the registration and the title were the same sheet but it is apparently a blue sheet somewhere. I think I know what he is talking about but honestly. Not sure. They just ordered a new one. It was like $20. So its all good.

We went outside to take our last things from the Camery and put them in the Crosstreck. A few people were complimenting the car. Felt neat. Ryan took our picture with my instax. Got a kick out of that. We chatted for a few more minutes and then we had our new car. Felt so weird.

We left there and went right to target to get a few groceries and things for camping next week. I called dad and we talked. It was good to hear him. He sounded a little weak but it made me feel a lot more secure. I love him. I don't want him to be hurting.

Once we were off the phone me and James just worked on getting thing things we needed. Including new pillows. But mostly camp foods.

We got pretty much everything. But we would have to stop at our local grocery store as well when we couldn't find a couple things. Ah well.

Between those two stops we got lunch at a diner. The food was excellent and the waitress was really nice. But we both lost a lot of energy. All the adrenilin from the morning was gone. And we were both very tired.

We would go downtown and James would run in the post office to get us postcard stamps so we could get the first batch of engagement cards in the mail. We would go to the grocery store. And then it was home.

We unpacked everything. James put things away. I would work on figuring out what we should keep in the car. We kept to much stuff in there before. I found a cargo net that dad must have had in the camery. So I went to install that. And put our air compressor and some bungee cords and jumper cables and a picnic blanket and some grocery bags. And then I put some stickers on the brand new baby car because I cannot be stopped or tamed.

I would work on some packing for camping after that. James helped me bring everything down and I would reorganize everything so we wouldn't have to worry. I am pretty pleased. I love packing.

I would do a little styling. And working on gathering addresses. James was making us indian food. And once it was done the flavors were great even if the chick peas were a little to hard still. The naan was great.

And then we were making the cards. We had a great system. James printed all the addresses and names on a business card template. So we could just cut them out and tape them on. I would put the stamps on, James would cut tape, I would attach the addresses. It was an excellent system. We have way to many cards but whatever. I am really excited about them regardless. We will just use whatever left over for something else. Save the dates maybe? Just would need to print something new for the back. Or we will just have to many and know better for next time.

I took a bath while James went for a bike ride. And then we would play video games for a little bit. But I was having trouble even keeping my eyes open. So now I am going to go get ready to go to sleep. I hope tomorrow is a beautiful day.

Sleep well everyone. Goodnight!!

[lettersnorth]

Loe was following directly behind Locke, but even he knew to keep his distance a few feet away from the man taking the lead. And as they ventured down a short staircase leading down into the lower levels of the ship the two doors leading into the storeroom immediately came into view. The moment they arrived Locke turned towards the rest of the crew following after him as he brought a finger up to his lips, silently motioning for the others to stay quiet while he crept up towards the door with Loe following after him. For a man of Loe's size, stealth wasn't his strongest point but he made do as he gently shuffled over the floorboards.

From the other side of the door a soft, muffled voice could be heard. A woman's by Locke's guess, and one that was quickly met with the harsh sound of a man yelling in response whose words came out much clearer. "Hey! I said shut up!"

He knelt down on one knee and pressed his face towards the keyhole, peeking through it with one eye. "I see... there's a few in there. Blindfolded. Bound. One guard. Can't make out another." His words were soft but precise, relaying little else but the information they needed to assess the situation at hand.

"I can take him," he said toward Loe before a momentary pause. "But he's too far. I need to get closer."

"Your orders, Capt'n?"

"Kick the door in when I say so."

"Aye, say when."

Locke then turned toward Aislinn, motioning her to draw closer. "Aislinn, give us some cover. Don't fire if it can be avoided. We've still got the element of surprise for the party upstairs, and I'd hate to give that up now."

She nodded in reply to his words and then hesitated. From the way it sounded Locke’s plan was to go rushing headlong into the room. “As I recall, that iron plate strapped to your chest didn’t look like it could take another hit.” her glance shifted away from him, moving down to her gun on the pretense of checking her rounds. But she knew exactly how many were in the cylinder. “Just...keep that in mind.” she said, quiet.

"I can count on you to patch me up if it came to that, wouldn't I?" he said with a playful wink. Even in their current predicament he still had a way of easing tensions.

Yes, but that was hardly the point. Twelve above, she might have had the rug pulled out from under her regarding his chosen profession but she could clearly see he was still impossible. The look she gave him in reply said as much.

Locke then turned toward Loe, giving the man a nod of acknowledgement. One that Loe responded to in kind with a nod of his own as he took one step back as his right leg rose up into the air seconds before he slammed the sole of his boot against the door. Striking near the handle itself as the wood cracked and gave way to the forceful blow, opening a path to the storage room as Locke suddenly rushed forward with the gunblade in hand pointing directly behind him as he charged forward.

The sudden blow to the door caught the lone guard inside by surprise, and the man barely had time to react before Locke came barreling through. With a pull of the trigger it soon became clear why his crew had been so cautiously putting some space behind him. It sounded like a muffled gunshot going off. One dampened by a rush of heavy wind. The force being expelled from the barrel was enough to make the one door still standing rattle as it launched the Hyur forward and with a twist of his body he used his momentum to strengthen his swing, beheading the man in one fell swoop.

The poor bastard was barely quick enough to draw his own blade midway out of its sheath before collapsing onto the ground, headless.

All said, it was over in a blink of an eye and left Aislinn frozen in stunned silence still trying to piece it all back together. She lowered her gun and her wide-eyed gaze slid to Loe to gauge the Roegadyn’s reaction. No such shock lined his face, which told her such a feat from Locke hadn’t been out of the ordinary.

The sudden commotion sent a ripple of whispers and fearful gasps from the others on board. Men, women, and children alike all bound and blindfolded. There must have been a dozen of them in total.

"Seven hells," Locke muttered softly under his breath as he took a wary glance around the room. No other hostiles, it seemed.

Shaking herself, Aislinn holstered her gun and carefully moved into the room, her eye drawn against her will to the bodiless head that had rolled several paces away. The hostages seemed to be holding their collective breath.

“Not more of your crew, I take it?” she said in reply to Locke’s soft curse. She finally looked up at him, once again redrawing his measure with an inkling that it wouldn’t be the last time she did so. 

"No, I don't recognize this lot. If I had to guess, I'd say they're our missing merchants," he replied as he took out a small piece of cloth and ran it along the edge of his blade, cleaning off the blood that still clung to the metal before sliding it back into its sheath.

Aislinn crossed to the woman closest to them and knelt down. “Listen, it’s alright.” she said, careful to inject a soothing tone into her normally matter-of-fact voice. It was more to alert the blindfolded woman to her presence than anything else.

Touching her gently on the shoulders, Aislinn carefully turned her away from the sight of the bloody, beheaded man before freeing the blindfold from the woman’s eyes. That certainly didn’t need to be the first thing she laid eyes on.   “Can you tell me your name? How’d you end up on this ship?” Aislinn asked as the woman blinked against the sudden light.

"Loe, get an extra pair of hands and clean this up." Locke said as he motioned the Roegadyn over. Luckily for them, there was a large piece of cloth nearby that they could use to easily hide the body for now.

The woman visibly flinched and recoiled back the moment she heard Aislinn, but upon realizing the voice was a far throw from their guard's she began to relax. "Eve... Evelyn," she replied as the blindfold came free and she began to frantically glance around the room.

"Wait, my boy. Where's my boy?" she suddenly cried out.

The voice of a young child soon answered. "Mama? Mama! I'm right here. Mama, I'm scared." he practically whimpered.

The boy lay just few feet away sprawled across the floor, squirming in his binds in an attempt to drag himself closer towards the voice of his mother.

Aislinn immediately turned to the sound of the distressed child. The sight of him flailing on the floor squeezed her heart as well as any vise-like grip. Moving to his side, she murmured a few reassuring words as she slipped a small knife from her boot and hurriedly cut his binds and pulled the blindfold down from his eyes.

With a cry, he clumsily launched himself at his mother who, still wrapped in her own ties, was nearly bowled over by the force. Aislinn made short work of her binds as well and then stood back, turning to look over the rest of the hostages, all who had their necks craned to the sounds of one little boy’s reunion with his mother. Uncertain and cautious hope rippling through them.

“Oh, thank the Twelve.” the woman dissolved into tears as her arms wrapped around her son and pulled him close to her, kissing his hair, his cheek. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

A dark look passed like a cloud over Aislinn’s face. There was an anger in her heart ready to paint the deck above red with the bodies of those who had done this. She spared a brief glance at Locke, letting her expression speak for her before she turned and, starting with the closest hostage, began freeing them one by one.

Locke motioned a few members of his crew over to follow Aislinn's example and do the same while the others went to retrieving their weapons in a nearby chest tucked away in the corner of a room. Even from her brief glance the anger in her features was as clear as day, and with the help of a few extra hands it wasn't long before the entirety of the hostages were freed.

"Thank you," some muttered quietly under their breaths toward Aislinn while a handful said nothing at all, but the anxiety was evident on their faces. And once the last man was freed it was Locke who spoke at the center of them all.

"We're not quite out of the woods yet, folks. Afraid there's still some matters to take care of upstairs. Rest assured, we'll see it done and once it's over I'll be sure to get you lot home. Until then I need you folks to sit tight." he said as a few anxious whispers spread over the group.

With the hostages freed, Aislinn had stepped back to the fringes of the room while the crew gathered their weapons and whatever else they might need from the storeroom for the fight that awaited them above. As Locke addressed the frightened merchants, she listened, of course, but more than that she watched. If he was angry his ship had been stolen out from under him and used to kidnap people across La Noscea, her rightful crew relegated to a dank brig, there was surely no sign of it at that moment. He was nothing but calm, confident reassurance. Because he could see plain as day that was what these people needed. Assurance that all would be well. 

And there lay the crux of it all. A Captain needed to be a natural born performer. Because the crew was always watching, judging from his actions alone when they needed to be concerned, when they didn’t. In any situation they took their cue from him. The thought struck Aislinn with a sudden dose of clarity. How exhausting, to be ‘on’ all the time.

Locke then turned toward the woman and her son, the first of the two that Aislinn had freed. The boy clung toward his mother's side, shrinking away as Locke now stood before them.

The Hyur knelt down, bringing himself at eye level with them both as he glanced toward the boy and flashed a reassuring smile. A familiar sight to Aislinn in their brief time together. "Easy now, no one's gonna hurt you. I can promise you that. You've been a brave kid to tough it out this far. I know, why don't I show you a magic trick?"

The boy just sat there silently as Locke fished a single coin from his pocket. Another familiar trick. He let it roll between his fingers before clenching it into his right hand in a tightly wound fist. "Now, which hand is it in?" he asked the boy who pointed directly toward his right only for Locke to open it to reveal it empty.

The boy's mouth fell open as he stared in shock before quickly pointed toward Locke's left, and once again he opened it to reveal an empty palm.

"That's odd, now where did I... oh, that's right," Locke grinned as he reached forward, plucking the coin right out from behind the boy's ear. "Now how did that get there, I wonder." His words were met by a soft bout of laughter from the boy who finally relaxed his hold against his mother's arm.

"What's your name?"

"Ian," the boy replied.

"Ian, why don't you hold onto this for now?" Locke said as he placed the coin into the boy's hand. "It's a good luck charm. Kept me safe plenty of times, and now it can do the same for you." To which the boy eagerly accepted with a nod. "Now, I have a special job for you, Ian. My friends and I need to go upstairs to take care of some bad people, but I'll need someone down here to keep an eye on things and protect the others. You think you can do that for me?"

"I... I don't know mister. I'm not too sure I can,"

"What, a brave kid like you? Nonsense. I can't think of anyone else I'd trust with this job."

"Well, okay... um, I can sure try."

"Aye, that a boy." Locke reached out to gently ruffle the kid's hair before he rose and made his way toward Aislinn. "Shall we?"

As Locke approached, she dropped her hand from her chest and nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of heat and flame that had begun to radiate within from the center of her chest. It had been happening more and more since the business with Red Argos began. Perhaps she was much more of an angry person than she had ever thought herself to be. A disconcerting idea, to be sure, and one she didn’t enjoy entertaining. She never pegged herself as having an uncontrollable temper. Certainly not one that burned from the inside out.

“You were right, of course. That trick is a big hit with kids.” she paused as she took a careful look into the hall. “I don’t think little Ian is going to lose that coin any time soon. Not when you've gone and turned it into bona fide good luck charm.”

She turned back to him and signaled that the way was clear.

He chuckled softly and maneuvered himself to take point once more but before he walked past he paused to draw his revolver from its holster before flipping it around and holding it out towards Aislinn with its handle pointed in her direction. "Here, take it. You're a damn good shot but it's all close quarters from here. I expect it back once this is all said and done."

"Boss, we're ready," said Loe as he approached with a heavy looking two-handed hammer in his grasp along with the others of his crew, each armed with weapons of their own.

"Aye, right to it then. Let's not keep our gracious hosts waiting."

[noona-clock]

Indefinitely - Part 4

Genre: Dystopia!AU

Pairing: Jaebum x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 3,258

One Month Later

The power went out almost three weeks ago, but the house still had running water. So, the three of you were still living here.

You had run out of food, however, and Jaebum had taken to raiding the other houses in the neighborhood. Even though they were all empty by now, it still made you a little anxious, so you avoided going with him at all costs. You didn’t hate it when he came back with an armful of canned goods, though.

Speaking of, your relationship with Jaebum had been getting gradually... better? Kind of? Since that first night when he’d joined you out on the bench and comforted you, things hadn’t been as tense and awkward as they usually were. Definitely not as tense and awkward as they had been in the car during that five-hour drive. But still, nothing resembling ‘friendly.’

You’d managed to learn to live together, though, and that was about all you could ask for right now.

Okay, not true.

You could also ask for a washer and dryer that worked, but with the power out, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So, you were stuck washing clothes and blankets and towels by hand.

By. Hand.

Like you were some sort of housewife living on the prairie in the 1800s or something.

I mean, it was only fair because Jaebum got all of your food and Youngjae chopped all the firewood, so you had to do something. You couldn’t just sit around doing absolutely nothing productive all day. Hence the reason you were on your knees on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, scrubbing your blanket in the tub.

This wasn’t even the hard part, though. The really hard part was carrying everything down while it was still wet so you could hang it up on the clothesline Jaebum had strung up on the back porch. You were pretty sure you’d gained about 3 pounds of pure muscle just in your arms in the last few weeks.

When you heard the door open downstairs, you paused your washing, tilting your head so you could hear better and discern who it was. Was Youngjae done chopping firewood or was Jaebum back with food?

The footsteps, after coming into the entryway, began to slowly ascend up the stairs.

It was Jaebum, no question.

And... was it weird you could tell the difference between your housemates solely by the sound of his footsteps?

Well, no, actually. It wasn’t! Youngjae was considerably more open and cheerful than Jaebum, and he almost always came up the stairs at a fairly quick pace. Jaebum’s footsteps were slower and more trudge-y and shuffling and intimidating.

When just the guy you knew it was appeared in the bathroom doorway, you had to stop yourself from smirking with pride because you’d been right.

“Hey,” you greeted with a smile, resting back on your heels and taking a break from the laundry. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah, I got more cereal and canned vegetables,” he told you before entering the room. And instead of asking if you wanted help, Jaebum simply got down on the floor next to you and dunked his hands in the water.

“Please tell me the cereal is one of the kinds that’s really delicious and really bad for you,” you pleaded. The last couple of houses he’d raided had only produced the boring kind of cereal that adults over the age of 50 eat, and you were tired of it. You needed some sugar in your system!

Jaebum let out a sigh, and before he even answered you with words, you knew you were going to be disappointed.

“No!” you cried dramatically, and Jaebum just shook his head.

You pouted a little as you turned back to the tub to help wash the blanket, but you only indulged yourself for a few moments. If you let yourself pout too long, it would get too real. There was too much about your current situation which could legitimately make you spiral into a deep depression, and you were not about to let a certain type of cereal become one of them. You were honestly lucky to even have cereal.

The two of you washed and rinsed out the blanket in silence which was not surprising since Jaebum was, apparently, never a talkative person. Like, ever. You assumed he was comfortable around you because the two of you had lived in the same house -- slept in the same room -- for a month now. How could you not be comfortable around each other? And he still barely spoke.

But you did notice he kept shaking his head and blowing his hair out of his face and flicking it away with his soapy fingers.

And it was then you realized his hair was getting long.

After probably the tenth flick, you glanced over at him and asked, “Do... you want me to give you a haircut?”

Jaebum paused, knitting his eyebrows together before shooting you a skeptical look. “Do you know how to cut hair?”

“Well, no,” you admitted. “But I could figure it out.”

You weren’t even sure why you’d asked because he was obviously going to say --

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured.

 -- Wait, what?

Really?

And you would ask if he really meant it, but you were afraid he would change his mind, and for some really, really, really odd reason... you didn’t want him to change his mind.

You shook one of your hands a little, getting the extra water off of it before sliding a hair tie from around your other wrist. “Here,” you said, offering it to him. “For now.”

Jaebum quirked an eyebrow at the hair tie for a second or two before taking it from you. He set the blanket back in the tub, wiped his hands on his jeans, and began combing his hair back with his fingers. Once he’d gathered all of his hair at the crown of his head, he wrapped the hair tie around it a few times, only pulling the ponytail through halfway after the last twist.

...Oh, god.

Jaebum was now sporting a man bun.

And... he had never looked sexier?

Ahhh! Wait, what?!

Since when had you ever thought the word ‘sexy’ in relation to Jaebum?!

Besides just now, I mean!

Yes, the guy was handsome. Good-looking. Attractive, even. But sexy? And with a man bun?

Okay, obviously, you’d been stuck inside for too long. You needed to get out more, this much was very clear.

“I think this is done,” Jaebum murmured, interrupting your thoughts. 

Your gaze snapped over to him, your eyes widened slightly and your brows raised. “Hmm?”

“I think this blanket is done,” he repeated. “Do you want me to carry it down to the line?”

Oh, thank god. A reason to kick him out of this small bathroom and be alone.

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, forcing a grin onto your lips. “I have a few more towels to do, but I’ll be down in just a bit.”

Jaebum simply gathered up the blanket, wringing it out as best as he could before heaving it over his shoulder and leaving the room.

You had to let out a soft sigh of relief; if he had stayed in here much longer, you probably would’ve started thinking thoughts even weirder than those you’d already thought.

Like... thoughts about... kissing him.

When you opened the back door about fifteen minutes later, carrying a few wet towels, you were extremely glad to see Jaebum had taken his hair down.

As you’d been washing the towels, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d combed his hair back with his fingers and put it into a bun. You didn’t know why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and it was kind of driving you insane.

Jaebum, who had been sitting on the bench the two of you had occupied the first night you’d spent here, stood as soon as he realized you had joined him. He strode over to you and took two of the towels so he could hang them up on the clothesline.

You stood beside him, gently sliding a towel over the line and clipping it on. “Thanks,” you murmured as you glanced over at him. “For helping with the laundry.”

“Sure,” he replied with a barely noticeable nod.

And when everything was hung up and ready to dry, you let out a soft sigh and said, “I’ll go find some scissors.”

Jaebum simply hummed in response, and you turned to go inside without another word.

It only took you a few minutes to locate a pair of scissors as well as grab a barstool from the kitchen counter, and when you took them both back out to the back porch, you found your heart had started to beat a little bit faster with anxiety.

You were probably just nervous because you’d never cut anyone’s hair before, and you didn’t want to mess it up.

Yeah. Definitely!

When Jaebum slid onto the barstool, his forehead wrinkled slightly, he murmured, “Are you really sure about this?”

Well, no, you were not. But you weren’t going to admit that to his face.

“I watched my mom cut my dad’s hair growing up. I’ll just trim it, and if it looks terrible, I’ll stop,” you assured him before reaching up and combing his hair with your fingers.

You moved around to the back, holding your breath as you held out a section of hair in-between your index and middle finger, just the way you’d always seen your mom and your hairdresser do it. And you continued to hold your breath as you took the scissors, opened them, and carefully trimmed off the hair sticking out through your fingers.

When the dark locks hit the ground, you let out your breath. 

There. You’d done it.

Now... you just had to do it about fifty more times.

As you took another section of hair, you realized that -- in this situation -- you were glad that Jaebum was probably the least talkative person you knew. You found you had to concentrate so much on not making his hair look completely horrible that any conversation would have totally distracted you. Had Jaebum said a single word to you, he would’ve regretted it when he looked in the mirror.

You carefully combed out a section of hair down by his neck, and when your fingers brushed over his skin, something very concerning happened.

A chill ran down your spine. 

But not like a creepy chill. A tingly chill.

You shook your head, blinking quickly to try and get a hold of yourself because clearly, you were not in your right mind at the moment. You took a controlled breath, focused your attention back on the scissors in your hand, and you continued.

You took your time trimming his hair, stepping back every so often to make sure it still looked okay. So far, it seemed like things were going pretty well (if you forgot about the whole ‘tingly chill down your spine’ thing), and you slowly made your way to the side of his head.

You combed and snipped -- carefully -- and made sure to avoid getting the scissors anywhere near his ear.

And then you moved to stand in front of him.

His gaze met yours briefly, but it was long enough to make you nervous. You weren’t sure why it made you nervous...

“Can --” you stammered, finding you had to clear your throat since you’d gone so long without talking. “Can you close your eyes? I don’t want to... get hair in them.”

Jaebum quickly shut his lids, and you let out a soft exhale.

There. Much better.

But even though his eyes were closed, you were still hyper-aware of his breathing and every little move he made as you trimmed the hair around his face. It was incredibly unexpected and incredibly awkward.

When you finally ended up where you’d begun about twenty minutes ago, you couldn’t help but be relieved.

“There,” you breathed as you stepped away from him. “I think I’m done.”

Jaebum slid off the stool, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he made his way over to one of the windows. He looked at himself in the reflection, turning his head this way and that.

And then he just said, “Thanks.”

So... I guess he didn’t hate it?

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a small, fairly awkward grin.

He walked by you as he headed to the door to go back inside... and he paused when he stepped in front of you. Just for a moment, but he definitely paused.

And he looked at you.

But he said nothing.

You looked back at him. But you said nothing.

And then he went inside.

You stood there for at least a minute after the door closed behind him, blinking in confusion with your brow furrowed deeply.

...What had just happened?

Youngjae, who had -- apparently -- finished chopping the firewood for the week, was lounging on his couch-bed when you eventually made your way back inside.

Thankfully, Jaebum was not in his armchair, and you didn’t even have to ask Youngjae where he was because he told you. “Jaebum went out to the front porch to read... What happened out there?”

...Youngjae could tell something had happened out there?

Oh, great.

“Uh... nothing?” you replied, though you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself. “I -- I just gave him a haircut. Why? Did it look that bad?”

“No,” Youngjae answered quickly. “He just... seemed weird. ...Er than normal.”

Over the past month, you and Youngjae had gotten pretty close. Every night, Jaebum spent about an hour in the front room listening to a crank radio he found in the basement, so you and Youngjae had gotten plenty of time to get to know each other and talk. Plus, he was one of only two people you ever saw anymore, and Jaebum still hardly ever really talked to you. You had to talk to someone!

“What do you mean weirder than normal?”

“I mean... weirder than normal. I don’t know. Did something happen?”

Well... to be quite honest... more than one something happened.

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a soft but frustrated sigh before plopping down on the couch next to Youngjae.

“Yeah, kind of,” you murmured. Even if Jaebum was out on the front porch, you didn’t want to risk him hearing you.

Youngjae’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he scooted closer. “What?”

“Well, first... When I was cutting the hair on the back of his neck, and I, like, touched him... it felt strange. But not like creepy strange. This, like... tingle ran down my spine.”

Youngjae simply looked at you in disbelief.

“And then when I was done and he was going inside, he just, like... stopped. In front of me. And we just looked at each other, and it definitely felt like a moment. I... have absolutely no idea.”

“So...” Youngjae began. “You like him?”

“What?!” you cried. “No, I don’t think so!”

But, wait. Did you?

...No. No, of course not.

Instead of looking relieved, though, Youngjae looked even more confused. “Wait, but... I thought you kind of already did?”

If you’d been eating something just now, you would have choked on it. If you’d been drinking something just now, you would have spit it out all over him.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s always so tense around you two!” he retorted. “But I thought it was, like, a... feelings kind of tense!”

You sputtered out some very flabbergasted noises before saying, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he kind of hates me.”

Youngjae let out a single laugh of amusement. A laugh! “Uh, no, he doesn’t. If anything, he hates me.”

“What?! How could anyone hate you?!”

You heard the front door open then, and both of you immediately pressed your lips together, the entire house now falling silent save for Jaebum’s soft footsteps.

When he passed by the living room doorway, his brow furrowed, and he paused.

“...Did I interrupt something?” he asked in a low voice.

“No!” you answered cheerfully. Probably a bit too cheerfully. “No, not at all!”

Jaebum simply lifted one eyebrow and said, “...Okay.”

He continued on to the sink then, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

Both you and Youngjae were utterly silent until Jaebum walked back through the kitchen, back down the hallway, and back out the front door.

Before Youngjae could say anything, you turned to him and pointed a finger in his face. “We are not discussing this further.”

Youngjae held up his hands in surrender before zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.

It was that time again. That time after the sun went down but before everyone went to sleep. That time when Jaebum locked himself in the front room to listen to the radio (for what, you weren’t even sure) and when you and Youngjae got to talk about whatever you wanted.

Tonight, you were talking about the Epidemic.

Big surprise.

But it was better than talking about Jaebum and feelings!

“But why do you think we didn’t catch it?” you asked as you laid on your stomach on your couch, your arms folded underneath your pillow as you rested your chin on top of it.

“I have no clue,” Youngjae answered from his own couch, his crossed ankles up on the armrest.

“I’ve been trying to figure it out --” (because you’d been forcing yourself to think of anything else but Jaebum for the whole evening) “-- and I just don’t know. We know it’s not contagious, but it’s also not genetic. You’d think it would be since all of our parents got it.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t know if my dad did or not,” Youngjae interrupted.

“True... It’s also not an age thing, though, because I remember from the news that the first few people who caught it were around our age or younger.”

“Yeah, I remember. And the old couple across the street from me got it even before my mom did. And the girl next door to me was seven... she was the first one in the whole neighborhood.”

A thought popped into your head then, and you raised your eyebrows, lifting your head from your pillow. “What about blood type? Maybe only certain blood types can get it.”

Youngjae tilted his head in thought before tilting it back to look at you. “That could be it.”

“What’s your blood type?” you asked hopefully.

“B.”

You pursed your lips at his answer and said, “Ah, well, I’m O.”

“What type is Jaebum?”

“Yeah, like I know,” you scoffed.

“I thought you guys have been neighbors for years.”

“We have,” you confirmed. “But I hardly know anything about him. I mean, not any details like his blood type.”

Youngjae opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the front room door opening prevented him from saying anything. You heard footsteps coming down the hall, but they weren’t Jaebum’s usual footsteps. And you knew exactly what his footsteps sounded like, remember?

No, these footsteps were hurried.

Which probably meant Jaebum was either worried or excited. Either something terrible or something wonderful had occurred.

When Jaebum appeared in the living room doorway, the expression on his face gave absolutely no indication which one it was. He was holding the crank radio, and the first words out of his mouth were:

“I heard something.”

Part 5

[cycat4077]

Sleeping Arrangements

Part 3 in the Changes verse, though it’s not necessary to read the other parts beforehand. (Part 1 | Part 2) AO3 here (Takes place Christmas 2015, right after 17x10 “Catfishing Teacher”)

Pairing: Sonny x Reader  Warnings: none (hopefully just some wholesome fluff) Words: 1858 Summary: Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. 

"So, my mom is a lot like yours. She'll probably smother you in love and food," you warn as the wintery highway passes by. 

"I don't mind that," answers Sonny from the driver's seat. Snowflakes collect and melt on the windshield, dispersing the morning light that shines through them. It's Christmas day and the two of you left NYC early to be able to make it upstate in due time.

"My dad on the other hand," you continue, "may look intimidating, but he's actually a big softy. Cries at chick-flicks all the time. Just don't tell him I told you that!" Sonny lets out a warm chuckle. "Noted!" Ever since you spent Thanksgiving with the Carisis, you've been excited to bring Sonny home to meet your parents. Not only that, but he also just finished a really tough case, so you hope that getting away from work and having a hardy family meal would do him good. "You're not nervous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, recalling how anxious you had been on the drive to Staten Island. "I mean, yeah, but not really. If your folks are anything like you, then I'm guaranteed to be just fine." Sonny smiles reassuringly before shifting his eyes back to the snowy roads. -x- "MY BABY!" exclaims your mother as you kick off your boots and step inside the house. You fold your arms around each other and hug. It has been too long since you’ve seen one another in person. "And you must be Sonny," she adds, waving over your boyfriend. "It's a pleasure, Mrs. -" but before Sonny has a chance to finish, your mom wraps her arms around him. A low oof escapes his mouth as she squeezes. Yep, Sonny has officially been adopted into the family. "I've heard so much about you, so it's wonderful to finally meet you!" Your mother is absolutely bursting with joy. "Likewise," replies Sonny, flashing one of his infamous smiles. In the meantime, you give your dad a giant hug, glad to see him too. Then it’s time for introductions. At first your father seems to be sizing up your boyfriend, hardened eyes scanning him over skeptically. Sonny extends his hand, offering a polite "Nice to meet you, sir" but your father hesitates. C’mon dad, you think, flashing him a stern look. Thankfully he accepts Sonny's gesture with a firm handshake. "My daughter goes on and on about you and how happy she is," he declares and finally allows a smile. A breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding in escapes, puffing out your cheeks. Always attentive, Sonny senses your unease and casts you a loving look, stepping over to slip you under his arm. After presents and overnight bags are unpacked from the car, the four of you sit down for an early supper. The dining room table is overrun by casserole dishes filled with turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes and baked carrots; everything that traditionally composes a holiday meal in your household. Once bellies are plump and full, you all sit around the Christmas tree. Growing up, family Christmas trees were always real spruce and were adorned with old ornaments that had sentimental rather than aesthetic value. And like all Christmases before, this year’s tree gives the living room a wonderful smell, while shiny bulbs twinkle from the colored lights that hang on its branches. With everyone gathered together, you swap presents. You had debated endlessly with yourself over what to get Sonny. The two of you were only together for about two months. Was that too soon to be buying expensive or sentimental gifts? Or, since we’re so committed to one another, would it be expected? Instead, you listened to your gut and bought something that you sincerely hoped would make Sonny smile. "What is it, doll?" asks Sonny while tearing at the wrapping paper. The man has the patience of a five-year old. You don't answer, but rather just watch while he takes the gift out of the box. "It's a…" Sonny's face softens and he runs his fingers over the material, "a briefcase." "For when you get that degree and become a lawyer," you elaborate timidly. The item set you back a pretty penny but it was crafted from soft, brown leather and resembled the old style of briefcases from the 50's. You wished that this gift would show Sonny just how much you believe in him. At first he's silent. He simply looks at you with an unreadable expression. He doesn't like it. It's too soon for a gift like this. But then Sonny unleashes a smile so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners. Your tummy somersaults. "I love it!" Sonny leans over and pulls you into an embrace. You flush with warmth and nuzzle your nose into the soft juncture of his neck. In fact, you're so caught up in the moment that you forget your parents are sitting one sofa over until a quiet 'aww' resonates from your mother. You pull apart to see a pair of baby blues shining with appreciation. Sonny then gets up, sock feet padding towards his coat by the door. He reaches into the pocket, pulls something out and quickly returns to his place beside you. He extends his arm, presenting a small box with intricate wrapping. Your breath catches in your throat. It's jewelry. Sonny studies you with nervous excitement, coaxing you to open it. When you do, the velvety box reveals a silver pendant on a matching chain. You touch the cool metal delicately with your finger, tracing the outline of an apple. "Yourra teacher," Sonny remarks, his tone turning somewhat shy. "And when you like a teacher, you're supposed ta give 'em an apple." You feel tears forming in your eyes as his sentiments soak in. "It's beautiful, Sonny." And you mean those words from the bottom of your heart. It's perfect. He's perfect. You ask him for help to put it on, moving your hair out of the way. His fingertips tenderly graze along the back of your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin. When the clasp is secured, you release your hair and gently adjust the pendant to the middle of your chest. It means so much and you vow to wear it everyday. The gift exchange continues a little while longer; your parents even make sure that Sonny has presents under the tree from them. Your mother all the while brings out various baked deserts, continually offering Sonny more food even though his response never wavers from a lighthearted "I'm stuffed". There's laughter and stories to go around as afternoon shifts into evening. You share your experiences with Sonny from the past summer and your parents recite snippets from your childhood. Of course, they also provide Sonny with a teasing warning about how nerdy you can be, making you cringe out of embarrassment. Sonny, like the gentleman he is, laughs them all off and reveals a few of his own quirks to even the score. As the night winds down and eyelids grow heavy, there's a collective decision to turn in. Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. Right away Sonny offers to sleep on the couch. Being that your relationship is still quite new, the two of you have never done the whole sleeping over thing yet. Though uncharted territory, it seems unfair to make Sonny sleep on a lumpy sofa when he'd be driving home the next day. "No, it's okay," you announce, eyes darting between your parents and Sonny. "You can share my bed." Your father opens his mouth to protest, but your mother swiftly hits his arm to shut him up. Instead, she hands Sonny the extra pillows in her arms. "You sure, doll?" Sonny questions, blue eyes seeking yours for confirmation. "Yeah, we've got a long drive back tomorrow. Need a good night's rest." You smile and rest your hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Sonny would never get fresh with you unless you both were ready. Besides, it would be nice to finally make the dream of falling asleep in his arms a reality… "Goodnight then, you two," your mother coos. "If you need anything let us know." You give both parents a hug before retreating into your childhood bedroom. "I'd never try anything. You know that, right?" Sonny blurts as he helps turn down the sheets. You stop and look at him. "Of course I know that," you reassure. "I trust you and in no way feel pressured. Hope you feel the same." "I do! I was justa little surprised that you'd offer to share a bed, especially under your folks' roof." He fluffs the pillow and strips off his shirt.

You can't help but stare at his bare chest. That's another first and boy, is it a good one. Sonny's not the type who has rippling muscles or bulging pecs. Instead, he's lean and toned in just the right places, which, if you're being honest, is way sexier. Sonny then pulls a different tee over his head, dragging you back to reality. "My parents have always trusted me," you resume. "All my decisions are my own and they'd never judge me for sharing a bed with my boyfriend. That's the kind of relationship we've always had." "It's nice," Sonny says simply before crawling under the covers. "My parents weren't quite so trusting." He shrugs. "...But then again we were a strict Catholic household." He pats the mattress beside him and you slip in. "Oohh! Your feet are like ice!" he trills. You quickly pull your toes away. "Sorry." "Nuh-no, doll! Lemme warm 'em up," Sonny grins and reaches for your feet with his own. His warmth provides immediate relief. "That better?" he asks. "Much," you reply. "Good." He switches off the bedside lamp and snuggles down under the blankets. "'Night." "'Night," you say. A silence hangs in the darkness for a few moments. "Sonny?" you whisper. "Yeah?" "Would you...uh...Would you...Do you wanna..." you stutter out, but it seems he already understands. An arm snakes around your shoulders pulling you near. "That okay?" he asks. But rather than answer, you turn your face towards him and place a kiss to his lips. It's warm and soft and tender; unspoken gratitude for the wonderful day you've spent with him. Sonny, responds by kissing you back with a soft hum of pleasure. "I'll take that as a ‘yes’," he smirks against your lips. "Merry Christmas, Sonny." "Merry Christmas," he kisses your forehead and you cuddle into his chest. His arms hold you close as you both fall asleep. You had always dreamed of how it would feel to be nestled up with Sonny like this, and though you never expected the first cuddle to be in your childhood bed, it was still better than you could have ever imagined. It felt right. Sonny felt like home.

---

I SHALL WRITE ABOUT ALL THE HOLIDAYS! (feeback loved and thanks for making it to the end ♥ )

Part 4 here

[arolla-pine]

I, Marinette - p.2

(2) – Physics

I left the Dupain-Cheng bakery in a hurry. Of course, I had to hug Tom who gave me some pastries for brunch. I thought he’d crushed all my bones while he hugged me but surprisingly I was OK. I suspected I was protected by one of the rules of this unreal universe.

Traffic lights stopped me for good, so I had to run as fast as I could to get the school on time. Somehow, I managed to enter the François Dupont courtyard at the moment of the school bell ringing.

“Here you are!” I heard somewhere around.

Alya.

Of course.

How could it be otherwise?

“Hi…” I breathed.

“We’d better hurry up, because I’d prefer not to be examined in physics.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s better not to be noticed…” I nodded and reminded myself to sit quiet and not to put Marinette into trouble.

Alya ran towards the class, and I followed her astonished with her red hair which was quite impressive. If we were to stage “Harry Potter, she should get Hermione’s part. Wait a minute! Had I just thought “if we were…”? It looked like I got into character too seriously…

When we entered the classroom, the teacher wasn’t there yet. Lucky me! I forgot to feel relief, because I was too shocked. Sweet mother! The Mrs. Mendeleiev classroom! A real laboratory – if you could use the word “real” in relation to a cartoon… I could see students sitting at desks – all Miraculous characters with Chloe Bourgeois in a front row. She was watching me with a wry smile on her face. What a masterpiece of pride and disgust! I felt like writing a story with her as a main character! I checked the rest of students and when I noticed lack of Lila Rossi, I sighed with relief. She was the only one that I would be afraid of.

I saw Nino and Adrien smiling. Right…

“Marinette…” Alya whispered significantly.

Oh, God! I was standing in the centre of the classroom and staring at people! What a blunder! I felt that my cheeks became red, so I lowered my head and rushed to my place. I couldn’t miss Chloe’s snort:

“Clumsy-Cheng…”

I should definitely write a story about Chloe. And that would be my first angst ever! With the main character’s death. That perspective helped me right away.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it!” Nino started, because Mrs. Mendeleiev hadn’t come yet.

“I was waiting for Marinette…” Alya explained. “You have to leave home earlier, girl! You’re always late!”

“I couldn’t get rid of my parents…” I muttered. “Too much hugs…”

Alya looked at me astonished, Nino cleared his throat uncomfortable. I kicked myself virtually. Marinette was never mocking, especially when it came to her parents!

“I think your parents are the best!” Adrien said, glancing at me with a smile.

So, here he was! A golden boy with green sparkles in his eyes. And with a loving smile for his “just a friend”… Riiight…

At first, I was surprised that I didn’t faint or something like that. Oh, come on! I was looking at the love interest of half of school. Forget a school! Of half of the city! And I felt nothing. Zero. Then I remembered that I’m older than them. And my heart was already taken for good. So, there was nothing weird in me not falling for him. Yet, I realised that if I stayed here for long I could unintentionally ruin Adrienette ship. Actually, I could ruin the whole LoveSquare…

“They’re the best!” I replied to Adrien, hoping that my friends would forget my previous comment. I had to be more careful!

The teacher finally entered the classroom, so we had to end our conversation. I felt relief and stress at the same time. On one hand, I could relax because pretending Marinette in front of her best friends wasn’t easy at all. On the other hand, I became anxious about the classes because I was unprepared.

“Today we’re going to talk about the Solar System!” Mrs. Mendeleiev announced.

I couldn’t believe how lucky I was! I always loved tv programmes about the space, I had some books about it at home. When I had been at school I took part in some contests. So, even if I was questioned I should be able to answer correctly and Marinette wouldn’t get a bad grade. I could relax…

Too early… The teacher began her lecture in so boring way, that after five minutes half of students fell asleep. How could she kill such an interesting topic?! I’d bet I’d be better! But I stayed quiet, because I remembered to stay invisible. I needed to be extra patient because Mendeleiev’s lecture frustrated me more and more…

Finally, the teacher realised that her students didn’t listen to her at all, so she changed the tactics. She decided to start asking questions to activate the students.

“Who knows which planet of the Solar System has a rotation in the opposite direction to the rest of planets?” she asked with a smile like she found some extra news for us.

“Venus…” I mumbled, knowing the answer before she finished her question.

“Very well, Miss Dupain-Cheng!” the teacher was impressed.

I caught Alya’s surprised glance and heard some whispers behind my back. I remembered that Marinette wasn’t good in physics. My bad… I liked this subject.

“Venus is a very interesting planet because Venusian year is shorter than Venusian day.” Ms. Mendeleiev continued.

I focused on staying quiet and on keeping my knowledge for myself. I still forgot that I was older than the rest of students (and a nerd by the way)… Thankfully, I heard Chloe’s snort that reminded me that fact:

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! A year shorter than a day?!”

‘Poor girl…’ I sighed to myself. ‘Do you have any idea what means a year or a day?’

“Who knows what means a year and a day for a planet?” Mrs. Mendeleiev asked.

Geez! I wanted to start chewing my desk! Suddenly, I understood why Hermione Granger had to answer every teachers’ question. ‘Please, let someone say something…” I prayed. I was too old for school!

“A day is time needed to rotate about its axis, and a year is time needed to orbit the Sun.” Adrien answered and I could relax.

“Perfect, Mr. Agreste!” the teacher was satisfied. “So, Venus rotates about its axis longer than it orbits the Sun. As you can see, this planet is unusual among the Solar System planets. Do you know how many planets we have in the Solar System?”

I thought I couldn’t be more frustrated, but I was wrong. I started drawing the Solar System in my tablet just to stay quiet. This lesson was like a nightmare!

“Eight.”

Adrien. Again. Thank goodness, this boy had some extra classes after school. The teacher had a partner for a discussion. And I didn’t eat myself…

“For many years the scientists believed that there were nine planets in the Solar System.” Mrs. Mendeleiev continued. “However, after some research they decided to exclude one from this list. Does anyone know…?”

“Pluto…” came out from me, before I realised. ‘That’s what happens when I’m frustrated…’

“Perfect!” The teacher didn’t try to hide her surprise, and I could congratulate myself on being an idiot.

At that moment we heard a school bell. No one stood up nor collected their belongings. Apparently, Mrs. Mendeleiev – not a school bell – announced the end of classes.

“For the next time all of you will prepare a paper about one of the Solar System planets. Miss Dupain-Cheng and Mr. Agreste don’t have to write anything because they proved their knowledge during the lesson. The class is dismissed!”

After this announcement everyone began gathering their tablets. I followed the example. By the way, I heard Chloe complaining to Sabrina:

“It’s not fair that Dupain-Cheng doesn’t have to write the paper! She didn’t answer any question only mumbled something under her breath. Besides, how did she know that? I’m sure she was cheating! Or Adrien told her! Why didn’t you prompt me, Adrikins?” she asked the boy.

“I didn’t prompt Marinette.” Adrien replied and turned to me: “I didn’t know you like astronomy.”

Damn it. I was sure that Marinette knew as much about the Solar System as about Cat Noir’s identity! Why hadn’t I sat quiet?! Come on, Lena! Say something! You’re intelligent, I heard…

“I don’t know… Recently I’ve seen a programme about the space. So, probably I remembered something…”

“That’s what I call being lucky!” Nino commented when we left the classroom. “You don’t have to write anything… Alya? Do you know what planet you want to write about?”

“I suggest Venus and Mars for you two.” I said, before I bit my tongue.

“Why those?” Alya asked surprised.

“W-well… it’s been said that women are from Venus and men are from Mars…” I stuttered.

“Who’s said that?”

“I don’t know… Some people?”

“I’m taking Mars!” Nino yelled. “Which one is it?”

Geez! What did they teach those kids?! I focused on being silent, because Marinette couldn’t become an expert in physics overnight.

“Maybe you should check in books?” I suggested.

“Google is faster.” Alya ignored my stupid comment. “The question is if Professor Mendeleiev will accept a paper about Venus. You know, we talked a lot about it today, so… Yeah… I should take something else. What planets are there?”

“Earth…” I mumbled.

The three friends froze and stared at me in amazement. I felt uncomfortable. I looked around and noticed that luckily there was no one next to us.

“I… I mean… You know… Earth is one of the Solar System planets, isn’t it?” I explained uneasy.

“You’re so right, Marinette!” Adrien laughed and broke the spell. “How’s it possible I didn’t thing about the same?!”

“But you don’t have to write a paper…” I reminded.

“Nevertheless… I’ve started thinking about which planet I would choose. And I didn’t think about Earth at all! Brilliant, Marinette!”

“Thanks…” I mumbled and smiled embarrassed.

Adrien’s words only made me aware how far from my plan of being invisible I was. Instead of sitting quiet I turned Marinette into a physics genius! I could sum up the first lesson as Miss Dupain-Cheng with one word: a failure.

—

I, Marinette - p.1  <-  Previous part  |  Next part ->  I, Marinette - p.3

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (4/13ish)

NSFW, masturbation with an audience, first blow jobs, learning boundaries

~

A shift of his hips brought her back to task; she was focusing on the entirely wrong part of his statement. Molly licked her lips, feeling both excited and a little nervous, and stood on legs that trembled a little, letting him up before spreading herself out on the couch. She worked her shorts and panties off, kicking them aside before setting one foot on the floor, the other draped across the top of the couch to give him a good view. Then, with a soft sigh, she leaned back into the cushions and let her hand drift between her thighs, her fingers stroking over her lips before sliding between them.

"Is this . . . okay?"

"Ghost, demon . . . is that the point here, babydoll?"

But before she answered, she took his suggestion and he watched her situate herself back on the couch, away from him. For someone who professed to never have done this before, she draped herself in a very fine way to be on display for him. He couldn't take his eyes off her fingers, dipping dangerously into her pussy as he croaked out,

"That is more than okay. Fuck. Show me how you get yourself off."

She could practically feel his eyes on her, as tactile as a caress, hot and piercing as  she circled her clit, her touches light at first, then pressing more firmly. Her eyes wanted to slip shut, lashes fluttering, but she kept them open, not wanting to miss a moment of the wolfish hunger in his stare, his voice low and raspy. Did the sight of her arouse him that much? A thrill of something like pride ran through her, and she smiled, liking the notion that she could be attractive, sexy even.

Her fingers soon began to slip lower, teasing her entrance, gasping a little as she felt just how slick she was. Not once in her life had she ever been this wet, and she told him as much, a shy blush darkening her cheeks. He had barely touched her, yet here she was, the sound of her finger sliding through her slick clearly audible in the room, the sound more prominent as another joined it. The heel of her hand pressed hard to her clit, fingers effortlessly finding that sweet spot within and stroking, pressing, teasing. It felt good, as good as it always did, but she didn't let her pleasure progress. If she was going to come, it would be around his fingers, not hers.

The sight of her pleasuring herself so intimately yet so brazenly while he sat across the cushions from her still have dressed made him groan.

He watched all of her: the way her toes pointed, the tremble in her thighs, her fingers delving into herself so slickly, the tiny bit of sheen on her chest, the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he told her, after swallowing to relieve his dry throat.

His cock throbbed, and he couldn't stand it any longer; he fumbled his fly open and released it, even though he didn't push his trousers completely off. It made him look like a creep, watching a woman pleasure herself while he was more dressed than not, his cock in his hand. but he was well past the point of caring about that.

He stroked himself slowly, his eyes riveted to her pussy again. He timed his hand with hers, and moaned.

Her breath caught in her throat as he praised her, his fingers dipping between his own legs to open his pants, producing himself. Molly groaned low in her throat when she saw him, a hot flush creeping from her chest to her cheeks.

"Baby," she whispered, echoing his pet name for her, reaching for him with her free hand, "please, closer. Let me touch you."

Her hands physically itched with the need to touch him, the hand between her thighs slowing, hair spread across the couch cushion as she beckoned to him with a crooked finger. Another pearl of blood welled up on her lip, unable to keep her teeth from worrying the spot; it was an old habit of hers, that spot on her lip perpetually scarred from anxious picking and biting.

Beetlejuice grinned at her request, but shook his head.

“Why don’t you come here, babydoll,” he suggested instead. “Crawl right over to me on this couch. That’ll put you in perfect position to give me a little kiss--”

He paused for a millisecond, gesturing with his chin to his cock, still slowly being stroked.

“--right here.”

If she was as inexperienced as she said she was, he didn’t expect, or truly, want much by way of her mouth on his cock. But she’d made her lip bleed again, and that little bit of extra life force would send warm shivers of bliss straight up him if it met the head of his cock. It was too tempting to pass up, and then he silently vowed to do what she asked. She could touch him and he’d touch her, and--

He grinned at his own dirty thoughts as to what would happen then.

Her hand slowed, then stopped, resting on her thigh as she sat back up, pulling her legs together. The idea made her nervous; she didn't have the first clue on how to give a passable blowjob. Porn was one thing, real life was another. His grin, though not reassuring and definitely not gentle, did a little to ease her worry, and she nodded. As if drawn by magnets, she did as he asked, hair spilling around her and brushing his thighs as she lowered herself, blue against the black and white.

Her cheek pressed to the fabric of his trousers, able to feel the tense muscle of his thigh beneath, and sighed.

"You'll tell me what feels good?"

Her eyes looked up at him from beneath her lashes and she crawled deeper into his lap. Slowly, hoping she was doing it right, she pressed her lips to the tip of his cock in a soft kiss, relieved when it didn't feel as strange was she feared it would. More kisses followed, trailing down the length of him, the final kiss ending at the knuckles of the hand he grasped himself with.

Her following his instruction and crawling to him, her teal hair spilling over her shoulders and first brushing then spilling over his thighs--that all made him give himself a squeeze that was just a little on this side of painful instead of nice, just to keep from blowing his load right then.

Her soft kisses, made more interesting by the slight abrasiveness of her bitten lip and that tiny bit of blood that made warmth follow where she put her mouth on him, made it very difficult not to simply take the back of her head and give her non-verbal instructions on how to suck his cock while he used his hand to jerk off into her mouth. But she hadn't lied about being new at this, and that'd be the most prickish move ever, if he did.

Instead, he praised her. "That's good, baby--your mouth feels good . . . I'm gonna let you in on a secret, beautiful. Anything you do, sans actual biting, is going to feel amazing. No guy, living or dead, is gonna turn down your pretty lips around his cock.

"You wanna open up a little bit, see how I feel on your tongue?"

His praise made her smile, grateful that was doing something that he liked. Again, rather than speaking out loud, she nodded, lips parting to lick a stripe up the path her lips had taken. She tasted traces of the iron and salt of her own blood, but beneath that was just him, and it wasn't anything she could immediately describe, but she'd be damned if she didn't like it.

"You taste good, honey," she murmured before licking around the head, liking the way the ridges slid against her tongue. Her hands first gripped his thighs, then ventured higher, sliding over his soft stomach and up to give his nipples a teasing flick, eyes darting up to his as her tongue mimicked the motion of her fingers against the head of his cock.

Molly didn't know what she was doing, but his encouragement helped, as did the grounding press of his skin against her palms.

"Put your hand in my hair," she murmured, wrapping her lips around the head and sucking softly as she pulled back.

Try as he might, he simply could not prevent himself from a little upward jerk as her tongue dragged itself up his shaft, then licked a slow circle around the head of his cock. If he didn’t know better, the word “cocktease” would slip out of his mouth, but he wasn’t sure if she’d understand it was meant as a compliment, so he kept it in his head.

It almost, almost passed his lips as she moved her hands up his stomach and flicked his piercings and she kept eye contact with him. He gave a low moan instead. And her innocent request to hold her hair? His hand was there almost before she finished her sentence, gathering locks of blue into an untidy pile in his fist to keep it away from her face. Some escaped, of course, framing everything--fuck, did she know how fucking gorgeous she looked, her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her hair messy, her eyes dark as she looked up at him?

Beetlejuice groaned again. “You’re doing so well, babydoll. Your mouth is so hot--take me in a little more? A little more? D-don’t push it--I won’t be able to . . . I won’t be able to last very long--”

Did he just admit it’d been forever since he’d had a beautiful woman suck his dick? He didn’t care. What he did care about was not just coming in her mouth or on her face like a horny teenager.

Her eyes spoke volumes, big and bright, the honey and emerald a thin ring around the blown pupils. The jerk of his hips didn’t frighten her, his moans fanned the tiny, smoldering spark of confidence in her, and the drag of his hands through her hair sent goosebumps rippling down her arms.

Molly did as he asked, so polite despite the strain in his voice and his rather impatient nature. It took her a bit to figure out how to flatten her tongue against her mouth, but she worked him in deeper, careful to avoid triggering her gag reflex. His girth stretched her jaw, but she was able to get most of him inside her mouth regardless, lips wrapped tight and warm around him. Slowly, she slid back up, sucking as she went and lingering on the tip; beads of precum gathered at his slit, and she lapped them up, humming at the taste.

Kisses dripped like rain from her lips over his stomach and the smooth skin around the base of his cock as she gave her jaw a break.

"I don't mind if you want to come in my mouth," she murmured, glancing up at him. "Just . . . don't choke me? Not with your dick, anyway."

She was a quick learner. He wanted to watch, but as she slowly took him in, his head lolled and he groaned. He didn't presume to set any kind of pace, but did pull her hair a bit as she came back up.

He managed to look at her again as her tongue lapped at the tip of his cock. Licks were different than suction, but not unwelcome.

Her kisses to his belly were nice too. He did use her grip on her hair to keep her head up to look at him.

"Is your mouth my only option, babydoll?" he asked with a smirk. Then the rest of her sentences found purchase in his brain and he cocked his head as he looked at her. "But . . . choking?"

"Not the only option, no." Licking her lips, she moved back, his fingers falling from her hair as she sat back on her heels, tousled waves falling back around her shoulders. "I'm flexible and open to suggestions."

A smirk touched her mouth, flirty and playful, feeling bold and  oddly relaxed around him, as if they had known each other for more than the hour or so he'd been in her home.

Nodding, she took his hand in both of hers, noting the black of his nails, the long and somehow delicate looking fingers, the smooth back, the lined palm.

"I happen to think you have very attractive hands," she confessed, her lips still curled in a soft smile. "And I think I'd like to feel them around my neck. Not hard, just a little pressure."

She lifted her eyebrow, pulling his hand to rest palm down just below her collarbones. "Like I said, dangerous or not, you have my consent."

Her sudden boldness surprised and delighted him. He watched her examine his hand, and didn’t stop her from placing it on her throat, but he didn’t tighten it at all. He felt her swallow.

“You say dangerous or not, but you also weren’t expecting something like me to arrive,” he told her quietly, his eyes flicking from her throat, passed her parted lips, to meet her gaze. “Choking is much better done here.”

He slid his hand up so the crook between his thumb and first finger were tight under her jaw, while his other digits wrapped the side of her neck. He felt her swallow again, more quickly this time, and her tongue wet her lips.

He left his hand in place for a moment, to see if she had second thoughts. When she didn’t, he did.

Releasing her throat, he shook his head. “Sorry, babydoll. No breathplay on the first date.”

It’d be some time before he’d tell her about his reluctance for it, if ever.

“I hope this isn’t too much a consolation prize,” he told her, “but I was really hoping to fuck you. If that suits?”

Offhandedly, Molly wondered if he could hear the way her heart began to race when his hand wrapped around her throat; she liked the fit, liked the pressure, but what didn't care for was the faraway look in his eyes, as if reliving a bad memory. She nodded in understanding when he let go of her neck, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

"No problem, sugar, just a suggestion."

Molly got to her feet and stretched, legs a little cramped from. being confined to the couch, and reached for his hands, pulling him to stand with her. Pushing the suspenders from his shoulders, a quick couple of tugs at his shirt and pants left him equally naked before her, her hands sliding up his torso.

"That's what I want," she murmured, her body pressing flush to his. "I want you, Beej, in whatever way you'll let me have you."

Her hands took his, pulling him down the short hallway to her bedroom, the air inside scented with the smoky perfume of incense, the bed piled high with soft pillows in shades of green and purple. A Gordian knot of equal parts nerves and excitement twisted in her stomach, and she embraced him, arms around his middle, her hips pressed to his as her head fell back, looking up at him.

"Where do we start?"

He'd have played off the sudden eruption of goosebumps as chill when she stripped him, but he was room temperature to begin with. He followed along eagerly as she took him to her bedroom. When she stepped up against him, so warm, he smiled down at her.

"Where do we start? Baby girl, this is well past the beginning," he teased, dipping to kiss her lightly on the lips. "But I have some ideas."

He looked over the room, weighing options in his mind, before turning his amber eyes back to her. He twirled a little of her hair between his fingers.

"I'd really love to see you on your back, with this gorgeous hair spread out around you," he murmured, lifting a lock to smell it. "But this is your first time? I think I'm gonna prefer you on top of me, and I'll have to make do with your hair just spilled down your front and watching your tits bounce as you ride me. You get to be in control. Set the pace. It'd be best for you."

Molly paused, a tingle running across her skin as he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Thank you," she said suddenly, lifting her hands to cradle his face, thumbs rasping against his stubble. "This entire time, you've been so careful about going easy on me since this is my first time, and I . . . I really appreciate that. It means a lot to me."

Her lips lingered against his perhaps a second too long, the kiss sweet and gentle, before she pulled back, dropping her hands.

"Hop on," she said with a lopsided smile, gesturing toward the bed. "You can always put me on my back the next round, sweetheart."

 tbc . . .

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @dilfyjuice @janitor-boy

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - VI

A/N Welcome to Ypres and the battlefields of St Julien, ladies and gents

T/W Mentions of death, violence, and war related trauma 

“All aboard, ladies.” Jack shouted through the cigarette balancing between his lips, glancing at Daniel and Zach over the top of his glasses and offered them a wink as he leaned out of the driver’s side door of the military truck.

“Oh look, Avery can put himself to use finally.” Daniel jabbed, making Zach laugh loudly as they climbed into the back of the truck with all their equipment. The situated themselves near the front so they could talk with Jack through the open space between the cabin and the bed of the covered truck as he drove.

“You are temping me to drive the truck off the road, Private Seavey.” Jack tisked.

“You will do no such thing.” Lieutenant Marais said sternly as he climbed into the seat beside Jack, slamming the door behind him.

“Bloody hell. That’s just swell. A nanny.” Jack grumbled, flicking his cigarette out of the window.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything reckless.” Lieutenant Marais explained slowly, “Like drive the truck off the road.”

“I was joking.” Jack scoffed.

“Christ, Lance Corporal Avery, you treat me like I’m here to arrest you. Relax, boy.”

More men piled into the truck, Sergeant Besson finding a spot up at the front with Zach and Daniel and he offered them a wide smile as he got himself settled. With the Lieutenant sitting with them, the usually talkative group stayed silent as they waited for the go-ahead to head for Ypres, Daniel worked on another letter for Elizabeth and one for his mother on his lap while Zach discreetly read over his shoulder. Corbyn kicked the boy’s shin, making Zach yelp and glare at him as he sat back to give Daniel privacy to write.

The General walked up beside the truck, patting his hand against the hood, “We are all ready to depart, Lance Corporal. Follow the officer’s truck south-east to the city. Straight along this road.”

“Yessir.” Jack nodded once.

The General walked quickly to the truck at the front of the lineup and climbed in. Jack turned the key to start the engine and they were off. Daniel looked down the middle of their group to get a last look at the camp they were leaving, seeing it drastically emptier than before. He wondered why the General ordered them to leave it near empty.

“Lieutenant Marais, may I ask a question, sir?” Daniel spoke cautiously before he could think, leaning forward a little to the front of the truck, the bumpy dirt road making sitting still difficult.

“What is it?” the officer said without looking at him.

“Is Lieutenant Colonel Seavey travelling with us to Ypres?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel nodded once, sitting back in his seat with a sigh.

“He’s your brother, am I correct?”

“Yessir.” Daniel replied.

“He’s a good man.” Lieutenant Marais spoke, his eyes focussed ahead at the dirt road. “A very good leader.”

Daniel simply nodded, even if who he was speaking with couldn’t see him. Zach held out his open tin of cigarettes to his obviously anxious friend and Daniel sighed and took one out, taking the offered lighter from Corbyn and lit up.

“Can I offer you a smoke, Lieutenant?” Corbyn asked.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” he smiled at him, a smile that was much warmer than the men expected after only seeing his serious scowl for weeks. He took the smoke from Corbyn who helped him light it before falling back into his own seat.

“Cheers, men.” Zach raised his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. Daniel copied, letting his head rest back against the side of the canvas wall, blowing out a soft cloud of smoke, watching it twirl to the roof. Zach was pressed up close to him, their shoulders bumping together in the crowded truck as it made its way over the dirt road. Daniel stared out the front window, watching the near barren fields sprawl for miles in front of them, the sky a light grey with speckles of blue managing to poke through. It was a cool spring day, the sky managing to hold back the rain the best it could. Daniel coughed over his next haphazard drag from the cigarette between his fingers, breaking him from his blank thoughts, and he held it out to Zach with an unpleased grimace.

“You are not honestly passing that back to me.” Zach gaped at him.

“I don’t want it.” Daniel shrugged.

“Pass it here, Private.” Jack held out his hand behind him and Daniel set it between his fingers carefully as Jack focussed on driving. “Not letting a good ration go to waste again.”

Corbyn laughed lightly from his spot across from Daniel through his own cigarette balanced between his lips as he cleaned his unloaded rifle across his lap. His blonde hair was falling over his eyes and he tossed it back out of his face with a sigh, sliding the cloth into his pocket and clicked the rifle back into place.

“Do you have to do that right now?” Zach frowned.

“What’s the matter? Afraid I might shoot you?” Corbyn scoffed, tucking the gun in the corner next to him.

“Possibly.” Zach shrugged.

“I trust Sergeant Besson with a rifle more than I trust myself with one.” Lieutenant Marais spoke up.

“That can’t be true.” Zach tisked.

“On the contrary. Besson’s the best shot we’ve got.”

“You flatter me, Jo.” Corbyn chuckled. “Although Seavey here seems to put even myself to shame.”

“Is that so?” Lieutenant Marais turned around to eye Daniel.

“N-No.” Daniel rushed. “I don’t think-”

“First shot in battle and was a direct hit.” Corbyn smirked at Daniel, despite the boy’s embarrassment to have all the attention on him.

“I would like to see that sometime.” the Lieutenant said. “Maybe a higher rank will be in your near future.”

“Oh Christ.” Jack grumbled.

“What is the issue now, boy?” Lieutenant Marais turned to the driver.

“Nothing, Lieutenant.” Jack sighed, stamping out the cigarette on the dash of the truck before tossing it out the window.

“If you keep talking back like you are, you won’t be going home to your daughter any time soon.” Corbyn mumbled.

“There are no mentions in dispatches anyway.” Jack shrugged through a scoff.

“If all goes well at the Ypres front there might be. Home before Christmas sound nice, gentlemen?” Lieutenant Marais smiled back to his men.

The truck erupted in loud and excited chatter.

“I could go for some of my mother’s cooking right about now.” Zach groaned, leaning his head back with his eyes closed in thought.

“My fiancé has written me and said that I shall expect to be eating like the King when I get home.” Corbyn added. “These cans of soggy meat can only satisfy so much.”

“We are eating no better than my one year old here.” Jack chuckled.

“At least she gets the touch of a woman with dinner.” Someone in the back called out, making the men laugh.

“Ay, watch your mouth.” Jack snapped over his shoulder. The men only laughed louder.

 ~~

The rain had started by the time they reached the city of Ypres, coming down in heavy sheets that made it hard to see through the dark surroundings. The trucks carrying the entire 2nd Division pulled up next to the church in an even row, the soldiers jumping out and rushing into the dry space of the chapel to make it out of the rain before they got completely soaked through. It was only a quick stop in the city center to gather a few extra supplies and have a quick meal in the safety of the British controlled city. After a lukewarm meal of stew served in their metal mess tins and water refilled into their canteens, the men lined up for restocking.

The sound of the heavy rain pounded down on the tall ceiling of the church, sounding like the low drawn of marching troops, hitting the stained-glass windows hard enough to nearly break them. Evening had barely passed but it was already almost pitch-black outside, the lanterns in the nave of the church struggling to keep sufficient light for the soldiers.

“It’s looking bad out there.” Daniel mumbled, shoving a handful of bullets into the pouch on his belt. He thanked the man who passed him a new rifle cleaner from the other side of the table, tucking it into his belt.

“If it doesn’t let up soon, we’ll be sleeping in that.” Zach grumbled, sliding his freshly sharpened bayonet back into its sling.

“If these front lines see more action there must be proper sleeping accommodations in the dug outs, you reckon?”  Daniel asked, passing Zach a fresh first aid kit and took one for himself.

“Bloody hope so.” Zach scoffed, as he slid the kit into his bag and buckled it back up.

“Herron! Seavey! Over here!” Jack called, waving them over to the door again. They rushed over to him.

“Lieutenant Marais wants us to head to the trenches as soon as possible. Are you two ready?” Corbyn cut in, walking up to them as well.

“Yessir.” Daniel and Zach nodded together, adjusting the now heavy bags hanging off their cross-body belts and filling their uniform pockets.

“Good. The nurses need their space to set up the hospital in here. It’s only a quick drive to the front lines. Let’s go.” Corbyn held open the door into the intense rain and they all ran for cover in the truck.

Sure enough, it was only a ten-minute drive to the front lines, the truck parking a few yards off to avoid the Germans hearing their approach, making the men walk the rest of the way in the rain. The mud along the dirt road coated their boots thickly, splashing rainwater up their trousers and soaked their jackets as they covered themselves the best they could on their march. The rain only weighed them down more, sending shivers down their tired bodies as they walked on.

The trenches they approached were no where near what they were where they came from. They were barely two metres deep, pools of water covering the ground instead of the protective wooden boards, and looked like they were about to completely collapse.

“Bleeding Christ.” Zach gaped, his eyes wide as he and Daniel kept walking after their division into the trenches.

If Daniel thought the last trenches were poor living conditions, he was definitely shocked into silence by the Ypres Salient. The men they passed as they walked through the pathways looked like they had seen the gates of hell, sunken faces and dark eyes, coated in mud like it was a second uniform. They didn’t make any move to take shelter from the rain, letting the weather wash the dirt from their skin and unexplainable memories from their minds.

A few bodies were laid along the side of the trenches, staring blankly into the new arrivals as they walked past. A shiver tore down Daniel’s arms and he forced his eyes forward to avoid putting a face to the stench of rotting corpses. Not far farther down the line, their section was gestured into one of the dugouts to tuck in for the night.

The shelter from the rain was nice but that was about it as the dugout was barely a meter in depth in the wall of the trench, fit for one or two men to curl up in a sitting position with their feet still sticking out into the elements. Zach and Daniel huddled together in one space, struggling to safely rest their rifles and equipment to the side in the process. 

Daniel drifted in and out of sleep most of that night, the sound of the rain and Zach’s snores keeping him awake, the sixteen-year-old curled up next to him with his head on his shoulder. He could only pray the war would be over soon.