#but we’re still in the summer break man I need entertainment

[vroom-vrooms]

Should I… comment on how Mark… looks so big… compared to Seb… in this picture…???

I don’t think I should…

[lewkwoodnco]

Cruel Summer (Part 2) - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: continuation of the cruel summer fic! Also refer to the gif in the first part for the bit where Lockwood looks up at the reader :))

Chronological order: timeless cruel summer (pt 1, pt 2) august (tsitp version) the alcott

After much effort Lockwood had surprisingly managed to secure the agency invitations to the Fittes ball, even after the ruckus they had caused the previous year. He walked in and presented them with a flourish, practically skipping around the room.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but these are very much real,” said George, after examining them carefully. “Pity it was all for naught.”

“All for naught? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I already told you before you left; I’ve looked over our plans and there is simply no way we can sneak past the guards swarming the place after the stunt we pulled last year.”

“Come off it, George, there has to be a way.”

“We can’t, not with them watching.”

Lucy broke in. “What if we don’t go? We can scale the walls, everyone else will be occupied at the ball, no one would even notice.”

“After I sold my soul for these tickets? Fat chance. Besides, Fittes would sniff it out if we don’t turn up.”

“As interesting as all this is,” she yawned, standing up, “I’m going up to get some rest.” She was still injured from her fall a few days back, and she hadn’t stopped wincing enough for Lockwood to let her come on any new missions. Part of her liked to think it was because he worried about her, and another part knew it was probably some sort of punishment for not being completely honest that night.

She was thinking of the puzzle she would break out while the rest went over to Fittes when she caught Lockwood’s eye. His expression was that infuriating mixture of daring and smugness that made her want to plant her face on his. He quirked a smile, and the shadows outlining his face made her breath catch, which she tried to pass off as a cough. For a man who prided himself on saintly values which bigger agencies lacked, it was remarkable how good being devilish looked on him.

“What? What?”

————————————————————————

“We’re going to get caught.”

“No, we won’t, because we all know what to do. So quit it.”

“I’m going to get caught. They’re going to take one look at me and head straight for the library.”

“Which would be fine, since we’re not going there anyway.”

“Then where?”

“Like I’d tell you, Miss Blab-a-mouth.”

“That’s just as well. I’m going to get piss-drunk and make a fool of myself.”

With that, she let out a desperate wail, burying her face in her hands while Lockwood unsympathetically walked around the room, collecting chains.

“No, you won’t, because there’ll be mocktails.”

“Just hurry, please?”

“We’ll be quick.” Lockwood stood up from the dusty corner he was huddled in with a little streak of dirt on his cheek. Without thinking, she reached out to wipe the dirt off, tracing his cheekbone delicately. His lips parted, and the ghost of whatever he was about to say hovered, but then they heard George’s footsteps getting closer, and they shifted away, the tension melting. All summer long, it was just one disappointment after another, she thought bitterly. She knew he felt something, he had to, but he would never admit it. It was irritating.

The plan was that only she would go to the ball, claiming the others had fallen terribly ill with chicken pox, and the only reason she was here was out of gratitude for the invitations. The others would go in, find what they needed, then signal her to leave to ‘check in on the poor things.’

They wanted to arouse as little suspicion as possible, so they rented a car instead of flagging down a cab this time. George was driving, scolding Lockwood for fiddling with the radio, who defensively insisted that he was ‘only playing around,’ which was more than enough entertainment for her and Lucy. But her laughter didn’t last long - Lockwood didn’t seem to know much beyond ‘playing around’ in general.

That must have been where the bitter feelings started. They parted ways at the back of the Fittes building, Lockwood winking at her as they started scaling the wall, but for once she didn’t feel all fluttery on the inside. It felt like a weak surge that fizzled out quicker than it had started, leaving behind the resentment brewing over the past couple of days, ever since that night at the library. Lockwood was so stupid, acting like he actually cared about her bruise, something she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head, something that made her want more with him. More than whatever two-step they engaged in, always dodging any real signs of affection or desire.

She had started with the mocktails, but they were too diluted to have any real sort of flavour. Besides, it just wasn’t doing it for her, not after the past couple of days she had, and so it was time for the cocktails. She had to pause occasionally to remind herself what signal she was supposed to be looking out for. Unfortunately for the poor waiter she had accosted, she began dumping all her emotional agony on him.

“Listen - Jeeves, is it? - imagine this hors d’œuvre is, say, the light in your life, the burning sunset you never want to end…”

As the night wore on, she grew drunker and drunker at such alarming speed that there was simply no room for suspicion towards Lockwood and Co. she had reached a point where her words had started to slur, not that it stopped her from talking the waiter’s ear off.

“His eyes, they shine like summer, or like that glint on the wall…”

The glint shifted back and forth sharply. It was almost too intentional for it to coincidentally look exactly the same as the signal they had agreed on.

“Oh-oh! Jeeves! I have to go! You did distract me with your chatter. Bye now!”

Jeeves glumly waved at her as she rushed down the narrow stairs, as mute as he was when he first sat down. She gripped onto the banister for dear life as the floor shifted below her feet. What felt like just a few seconds to her had apparently been a full half minute.

She didn’t exactly remember how she ended up in the car, just the relief of getting off the stairs and the panic that set in when the floor continued to swim, and suddenly she was in a cushy woollen seat with the blurry image of Lockwood on her left.

————————————————————————

“Wha- where’s everyone?”

“We had to split up in the end; George and Lucy exited on the other end of the building so they’re probably taking a cab from there.”

She nodded, trying to cool her rosy face with her hands, watching Lockwood drive out of the corner of her eye. That feverish feeling was back, and she was beginning to think Lockwood was some flu she could never recover from, a bad habit she didn’t even want to kick. He drove her crazy, and it was all his fault.

That’s all she’d ever to be to him - crazy.

It was like a dam broke, and she started sobbing a bit too noisily, sending Lockwood into a confused panic.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice cracked even as she bit the lie out, as if Lockwood was forcing her to lie to him. But in a way, wasn’t he? He couldn’t expect her to just come right out and say it, could he? That just stressed her out even more, making her dissolve into more sobs.

The rest of the drive was silent but fraught with tension, interspersed with the occasional hiccup from her. When they finally pulled into the driveway, he switched off the engine and cut the headlights, but made no intimation to exit the car. She could almost see the balmy air outside, hear the cicadas chirping, a world so peaceful and happy - so very different from the world inside this car. She wished it was simple and easy and comfortable, but just looking at Lockwood was a stab in the gut.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been acting…off, lately.”

She rolled her eyes; it was so like him to be purposefully vague. Lockwood never was a man of details, just vague plans which tore her apart and always kept her waiting for him to cut deeper, say something that actually mattered.

“I don’t know what you mean. Off how? If you have something to say, then say it.”

He bristled. “Fine. I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

That was the last straw. She opened the car door and was through the gate, halfway up the stairs by the time Lockwood caught up to her.

“Y/N- wait! I didn’t mean it like that, you know it.”

“You think I’m just going to sit there and listen to you talk to me about lying?”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous.”

“You make my mouth dry and my head spin and you won’t even acknowledge it, but I’m ridiculous?”

Lockwood presses his lips together, but she was too far gone to stop now. Loving him was electrifying, terrifying and so, so cruel.

“I see the way you shrink, the way you return to whatever shell you’ve made for yourself the second things get too real. And I’m tired of it. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you. And maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m the one who sealed my fate when I started sneaking around with you, dancing around us. Loving from balconies, in the glow of vending machines, in the dark of the night…t’s exhausting and makes me delirious, but I’ll probably keep doing it anyway.”

And then there was nothing left to say, except for probably the worst thing. “There’s no other explanation. I love you, Lockwood.”

[ryuntv]

yoo yongha, twenty5, male, he/him.  ───  3, 2, 1 — action!  everyone, we’re here at jincheon national training center, and this time i have with me our national taekwondo team’s very own jeong ryun. you might know them for being a repeat gold-medalist at the world poomsae championships, but if not, don’t worry. they’re here to field all your burning questions. let’s dive right in.

sparknotes biog

born to a "single mother" january 13, 1999

not actually born to a single mother, but his dad is an absolute ghost of a man — he'll come out of himself every now & then, but spends most of his non-working time isolating himself. definitely battling some kind of mental health dilemma but 🤷 anyways... you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped and as an adult, ryun DOES NOT interact with his dad outside of when he visits home to see his mom

was always a "cute kid", luckily never had a (physically) awkward phase like... it's been smooth-sailing from birth. got a lot of compliments from friends of his mom, teachers, was popular among girls in his grade, etc etc, and it was often speculated (not super seriously, just in a silly "what if?" kind of way) that he'd end up pursuing a career in entertainment / "putting his face to use". he'd always shy away from the topic 'cause he did NOTTTT have ANYYY self-esteem and his tendencies were very similar to his father—do what has to be done (go to school), come home and spend the rest of his time rotting. he couldn't imagine any other kind of life

luckily, his mom is a gem of a woman. extremely compassionate & as soon as she realized ryun was starting to take after his dad, she realized she needed to intervene and help him find an outlet; she signed him up for taekwondo classes one summer when he was ~12. he didn't like it at first (mostly because of self-esteem and anxiety issues) but it didn't take long for something within him to awaken (s/o to his addictive personality)

learned quickly, obviously had his weaknesses but overall having something that he was good at and continuously getting better at made him feel a bit better about himself. plus, he was making friends who shared similar interests & when he was abt 15, they ended up forming their own little "street crew" in which they combined dance and poomsae and performed to k-pop songs, arnd this time ryun started seriously considering chasing an entertainment career considering he'd always been told to anyway... but it was that vs taekwondo; success with becoming an idol wasn't guaranteed, whereas he was very confident with his taekwondo skills so he let dancing/musical interests continue to be just a hobby

let me not bore y'all to tears with the details... tl;dr: placed in his first major competition @ 16 / was notably a triple threat & took home gold @ the world poomsae championships in 2018, 2019, 2020 / joined the national team in 2019, scouted after his second victory at the poomsae championships / figured he had "made it" and could kick back a little (LOLLL) and thus decided to take a break to participate in a kpop survival show in 2021, which he claimed he was "just doing for fun" and "wasn't serious about it" / made the lineup for the temporary group as the fans' choice, didn't train with the national team much throughout 2021, became somewhat more active in 2022 and 2023 but was still "busy" often / now that the group's disbanded, ryun feels kind of directionless. starting to realize maybe he liked being an idol more than he likes being an athlete, and his coach gave him the ultimatum of qualifying for the olympics (which he's never done before, and poomsae isn't included in the olympics which means he's gonna have to be able to SPAR on an olympic level... yeah good luck with that) or giving up his spot on the team so LOLLLL... let's see what happens next!

misc info

was extremely popular on the survival show, resulting in him being the "fans' choice" in the group lineup; however, for a number of reasons the widespread popularity kind of fizzled out once the group was actually formed & starting to promote

the main reason being that the company was eager to flex that they had a "national athlete" in their group, and many of the the choreographies incorporated some kind of stunt or trick for ryun to carry out — which you'd think would only increase his popularity, but they were very physically draining, and despite being a vocalist he was observed as not being able to hold a note which some people criticized him for while the die-hards were like "but look what he's doing!!!! of course his voice is unstable!!!! it's ok!!!"

(spoiler: his voice was always unstable anyway LOLLL)

plus there's the fact that many of the stunts/tricks weren't things that he could confidently perform over & over, and he ended up getting somewhat badly hurt abt a year after the group debuted. it took him a few months to heal (though he did make a full recovery! hooray!) but during this timeframe he was shit on SOOOOO hard... "not so interesting now that he can't do tricks for you, huh?" type beat. his confidence plummeted again around this time 'cause he was a strong dancer/performer but, again, his vocals were notttt that good

luckily he had fully recovered by the group's last two releases and finished out on a high note <3 some wld say his vocals had even improved (finally)

so here he is now... retreating to the national team admittedly less excited than you'd think... he sold out. he's a diva. let's tell it like it is.

mama's boy. has mentioned his mom in every interview he's ever given and will continue to do so, as he owes everything he has to her.

personality

very kind, but somewhat insincere.

cares a lot about the people around him, to an extent. he wants everything to be good, he wants everyone to be happy, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make those two things coincide as long as it doesn't entail him sacrificing anything. quite selfish, and puts his own wants and needs above others' almost always.

he's somewhat of an instigator and will (indirectly) start shit just to then sit back and act like he had no involvement in it. but he's the type of guy who will never say a mean thing to your face; extremely good at playing the mediator/deflecting when necessary, doesn't easily give in to people trying to start shit with him, and "is always able to find the silver lining". pretty unserious/utilizes humor to get people comfortable with him. most people who know him casually will say that he's a great guy, but perhaps a bit too chatty.

anyone more deeply involved with him is likely to see the bad aspects of his personality, as he's not that great at hiding them. he tries to play this "confident, but humble" character, when in reality i think he's got a big ass head—and yet it is easy to (temporarily) bring him down, as the low self-esteem never truly left him. all these things come together to form the insincere, instigating side of him, where he's prone to sabotaging others' friendships or just overall starting shit to then look like he's the honest one just looking out for the homies.

very caught up in media & appearances. he'll preach about disconnecting from the internet and experiencing things as they truly are / forming your own opinions, but he's quite easily swayed by what he reads online and his screentime is astronomical. he might pretend not to know other famous people, but TRUST! that he's done a deep-dive with whatever info the internet had to offer as soon as he realized he had any chance of encountering them (@ hall of famers)

wanted connections

someone who doesn't/can't take him seriously—probably an athlete who is only in this for the sports, and finds it ridiculous that ryun is occupying a spot at the jincheon training center when dude took an extended break to pursue idoldom like... are you kidding

the ex who got the short end of the stick. probably someone ryun met at a national sports event and really hit it off with / pursued a relationship with, and they were still with him when he decided to audition for the survival show. they were probably a little uncomfortable w the idea, but he assured them that it wouldn't change anything about their relationship — and then dumped them when he made the lineup, citing the "no dating" clause in his contract (aka: he wanted to fuck around freely). perhaps he's trying to win them back now that it's "back to the real world"....

one or two really good friends. people who've seen ryun's worst and vice versa and they still love each other just the same!!! ride or dies... 4lifers...

where the starstruck fans at??? let him have his christopher wilde moment... your character knows of him, but makes it obvious that they were never a fan/they don't like him... cue christopher wilde: "u don't like me??? but u don't know me... i think if u knew me u'd really like me" and now dude's always in their business trying to change their mind about him / alternatively just someone who doesn't rly give a damn abt anyone and ryun wants to be the exception

former friends??? maybe people ryun suddenly "didn't have time for" during his time as an idol and they're NOT amused by him trying to act like they're still buddy-buddy

new friends too!!! people he's very recently begun getting to know but so far it's going good!

there are no other taekwondo athletes at the time i'm writing this but whenever there are: the teammate whom ryun confided in regarding his current dilemma, and they're doing everything they can to help him qualify for the olympics in what little time they have

etc etc etc. open to brainstorming!!!

[handelplayssims]

Another 5AM wakeup for Meredith. This works out for her nicely. Gives her time to just exist a bit before work starts up. To at least make some food for breakfast proper. Stuff that gives leftovers. Considering that the power conservation took out our fridge and our leftovers with em. Hmm. I would attempt to regain passion before heading into work but it seems perhaps with the working-from-home, it’s not popping up. Maybe when it rolls over to 7AM? Yep! There we go! Let’s see where the passion dice roll. ...tense. I need a second day of failing that roll before I consider switching jobs. Oh! And NAPs, are open, good to know. For NAP voting, I’m going for Self-Sufficency. Meredith likes her handiness and gardening! Even if I don’t have any plants around. Maybe should think about some flowers. Ones that bloom in the summer!

Markus is still having a bad time in daycare. Man! And I’m likely gonna send him right back because it’s Night on the Town and I do actually like going out of the house on these days. Oh, and we got a call from McHenry. It’s a vampire lady! Got so many vampires, I need more werewolves. And whoops! Accidentally sent Meredith over to say hello to the new neighbor! Welp. Ah well. Might as well find out her job and trait. ...hates children. GOODBYE!

We are out and about now. And Meredith strikes me as a lounge type of gal when she wants to go somewhere else. And hey, there’s a talent concert going on! Those happen on Fridays and Saturdays where artistic Sims can show off their skills. ...problem being that most performers have jobs so they don’t go out. But for Meredith, it can be a good show! To the Solar Flare!

We drink, we eat, we chat with some Sims as we wait for the entertainment! We run into Kayla Knoles, one of my own made Sims, Accord, from the Drakengard game series, and say hello to the barkeep. It’s only 8:30 and she is sleepy. Dang. I want to stay for the entertainment! Well there is Katrina Caliente singing off in a corner. That could count but eh. Sing at the mic darn you! Not the washroom!

It starts! Local Gobal Superstar Joaquin Le Chein is performing! Let’s watch!

...this ain’t really a good spot to watch, isn’t it? Ah well. We’re getting the advertised entertainment! And then we had Kayla break out into an acting thing...to get interrupted by Katrina Caliente singing. Welp. There we go. Asked for entertainment got! Time to go home! And immediately put Markus to bed, despite not being sleepy. Do you want to deal with a toddler roaming at night? I don’t! (Well I wouldn’t mind but Meredith probably wouldn’t) Annnd sleep.

Neighborhood Watch!

Mt. Komorebi: The Kwa household recently moved out.

Kerry Arndt in the Arndt household has died. Kerry was milking it and got too close to a cowplant.

Lukas Nugent in the Nugent household is now an Installation Intern in the Green Technician career.

Mm. A little bit more, shall we? Markus is up first, to my non-surprise and is in desperate need of the toilet. Properly trained, he is. Today is a Saturday so it is a Finwick Fair day at least. But for now, the time is ours to deal with. And most of it for now is spent on cooking breakfast for Meredith herself and Markus. Markus who kept playing in the cabinets nearby. Now now, you’re not supposed to do that! HA! The nag actually got a bitter sentiment and a festering grudge! Be mean to a toddler once and they will remember this slight. Still his whim is to be funny with her. Let’s see how this goes...works very well! Now he’s going to be playful for four hours! Good for him!

Meredith in contrasts wants to...get a promotion. That means working on the Research and Debate skill meaning a trip to the library. ...after the washer gets finished! The other whim is to call someone on the phone. Doable! Let’s go with Shulk. Good befriends good, after all. Again, we need to kill time so let’s go for a jog. That didn’t take long at all so stop the jog and lets go put those clothes on the clothesline! To the library!

So Meredith is researching and Markus is reading. As the two quietly hang out in their corners of the library, Markus gets grumpy at Meredith. That simmering grudge! But the fair starts up just as soon as Meredith stops researching. Mmm. She’s on the cusp of level 4 researching, let’s go a little longer. It is at this point that Markus gets sleepy. Welp. I can send him to the daycare while Meredith goes off to the fair.

Grocery restock at the two markets. ...perhaps I should also pick up some flowers annnd she’s gone for the evening. None of the exhibitions in the fair are inspiring this time. A shame! So now she’s bored of the exhibition and of a coversation she had. Man. What a time. We did chat up some bar folks afterwards but ehhhh. Nothing to really shake her out of that mood. We did actually finally shake out of this bad mood, with the food, feeling good vibes with other sims, and the convinal lot trait working in our favor. And then we finally go home to rest and sleep. And get Markus to sleep as well.

Neighborhood Watch!

Tayler O’Malley in the O’Malley household has died. Tayler tried to make cereal but it burst into flames.

Oh RIP! That lady was in a house for a long while and had the chance to be playable but nope! Alas!

Glimmerbrook: The Laughlin household recently moved out.

Brindleton Bay: The Jimenez household recently moved out.

...was wondering if I would get to him before he moved out but eh, I suppose it still isn’t likely.

[mentalpolaroids]

When he pushed her away

and when she pulled him back (part I)

[gif creds @whumpypepsigal]

JJ Maybank x female!Reader

Summary: Falling for somone is scary, but falling for your best friend is absolutely terrifying. So before she can run away, JJ pushes her away instead, not because he doesn’t want to love her, but because he does, so bad, he just doesn’t know to deal with these new emotions and that scares the shit out of him. 

Warnings: swearing, angst(y)

Based on the quote ‘To douchebags!’ He said, gesturing to brad. ‘And TL girls that break your heart,’ he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. ‘And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.’ from the book Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire. 

Thank you @yourroyalyaverageprincess for sending this prompt and for trusting me with writing it, I hope I made it justice 🥰

The girl wiping the wooden table in the middle of the living room tried not to move her curious glances to JJ’s arms as he tried to open the jar of pickles, his defined muscles always trying to unwittingly catch her eye, especially when he wore those sleeveless shirts. John B stood beside him calculating a way to get the damn lid off after he had passed the jar to his friend. 

“How the fuck do they close this damn thing so tightly and expect people to just open it without pulling a fucking muscle?” the blonde complained, gritting his teeth and trying not to show how much effort he was putting into opening the jar. 

“You guys need help?” the girl finally asked, amused at the boy's antics.

“We’re good, we’re good.” John B reassured as he reached for the jar to try again himself. 

She put the rug down and made her way to where the boys stood, her presence going unnoticed by how entertained they were with the glass container. 

“Maybe we’re supposed to twist it the other way?” JJ suggested.

“No, we’re not.”

“How would you know? It’s not like that shit has budged even a bit.”

“Guys…” she tried to call them.

“Every lid twists this way, why would this be different?” John B fought back, having the jar snitched from his hands. 

“Guys.”

“I don’t know man, no one understands this new weird ass technology.”

“It’s not technology!”

“Oh for fucks sake.” the girl pushed her way in between them and grabbed the jar from JJ. The blonde was about to complain, but as both boys watched, confused, as she turned the jar upside down, gave a few hard taps on the bottom, turned it back around and easily twisted the lip and got it opened, his words were lost in the process of what he just witnessed. 

“Save some pickles for me, alright?” she gave JJ the jar back, who still had his eyes on it, perplexed it was actually opened. And by her. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Wow. I feel dumb.” John B commented. 

She laughed and went back to cleaning the table, oblivious to the blue eyes following her figure. The simple act of effortlessly opening the pickle jar had made him admire her in a different way. 

“That was strangely hot.” he mumbled only for the freckled Pogue to hear but he simply rolled his eyes in response, annoyed, but already kinda used to, at his constant rambling on the girl’s appearance. 

..

After a day filled with work, all the five Pogues wanted to do was relax and enjoy each other’s company. The light, warm Summer breeze, the moonlight, the smell of salt water and weed and the sound of crickets and Kiara’s gentle ukulele strings were the perfect recipe. JJ’s favorite sound though, was (Y/N)’s soft voice singing along with the instrument, his full attention on her, admiring her features highlighted by the blueish light from the moon and a few strands of her hair dancing with the breeze. Her smile and occasional laughs for messing up the lyrics were contagious and the boy felt lucky for even having the chance of witnessing such effortless beauty with his own eyes. He also felt scared for feeling like that when looking at his best friend, not sure when or how or even why he started to feel like that. Well, he knew the why, what kind of lunatic wouldn’t like her? But she was his best friend, and although some people around the island would even consider JJ a lunatic, he was having a hard time accepting the new feelings towards the girl, and she was making it even harder by looking like that. 

“No, wait, dammit, play it again!”

“Again?”

The girls’ banter brought JJ back to reality and he took a look around him to make sure he was, in fact, not alone with her. 

“I messed up again.”

“You were doing fine, girl.” Kiara chuckled and started playing again. 

“Hey you,” (Y/N) said, turning to JJ, “come sing with me.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t sing.”

The girl tried to hide the effect the pet name had on her, even though it wasn’t that unusual for her to hear it, and smiled. She extended her arm, signaling for him to scoot closer, which he did. Her arm dropped around his shoulders and he clumsily leaned into her, letting his head rest on her shoulder while her hand rested on his chest. He just hoped she could at least ignore how fast his heart was beating. 

“Hey, Kie, can you play…”

“No.” Kiara quickly interrupted John B.

“Oh, come on!”

“No! I’m tired of playing it!”

“And we’re tired of hearing it.” Pope added, but instantly looked at Kie, scared he might have offended her, “Not that you don’t play it well, it’s just…”

“I got it, Pope, no worries.” she chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. 

“You ok?” (Y/N) asked the boy beside her as she watched him take a drag from his blunt.

“Yup. Never better.”

“Hope that’s not sarcasm.”

JJ turned his head to look up at her after blowing the smoke into the air.

“It’s not.” he adjusted himself so he could face her better, “I mean, I have a good ass J in my possession, live music, and a super hot chick holding me. I’ve never been better.”

She chuckled at his comment and brought her hand up to lightly smack his forehead, then let it rest over his eyes playfully, making him groan in annoyance. He grabbed her hand and moved it back to his chest, but he didn’t plan on letting it go, as long as she didn’t mind. The way she allowed her body to lean more against his own and rest her head over his showed she didn’t mind at all. But what made his heart almost burst out of his chest was when she moved her hand, not to let go of his, but to intertwine their fingers. 

That was the first time ever JJ Maybank had felt the so famous butterflies in his belly and his mind was going crazy trying to tell them to chill. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with them. 

..

Dealing with the unpleasant antics of the Kooks wasn’t something unusual nor something a Pogue wouldn’t be prepared to face when working in the middle of them, but with the awful week JJ had been having because of his dad, he wasn’t sure he could ignore Rafe and his squad. (Y/N), despite the lack of conversation about JJ’s emotions, she knew he wasn’t ok. She wanted to try and at least make him smile, so she decided to surprise him at work, hoping her visit would ease his distaste of working at the country club and having to deal with the stuck up teens from Figure Eight. 

“Careful with my food, Pogue, don’t want you infesting it.” 

The girl rolled her eyes at Rafe’s word towards the blonde boy walking back inside to give his order away, his posture tense and ready to attack any minute. She leaned against the wall where JJ wouldn’t be able to see her when he walked out the door, she didn’t want to distract him while serving people, she would wait for him to spot her. 

The Pogue passed the glass door with two plates in hand and made his way to the table where Rafe, Topper, Kelce and two other Kooks were sitting. She studied his movements and body language, hoping he could remain calm and ignore any comments she was sure would come out of their mouths. Her body was also tense, ready to step in in case anything happened and trying to make out what Rafe was saying, with no luck. It wasn’t until JJ said something back that she took some steps forward, almost by instinct, as if ready to jump anyone who would dare touch him. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to kick some boy parts. 

The unexpected sound of a chair hitting the ground caught everyone’s attention to witness Rafe taking the short steps around the table to face JJ, Topper also on his feet ready to step in. JJ remained calm, or as calm as he could appear to be, jaw clenched and eyes filled with anger, as he listened to the Cameron boy’s words. 

“Hey!” (Y/N) finally walked the rest of the way to where the commotion was happening, no longer caring about surprising JJ. Which she actually did, but in a different way, “Watch your mouth Kook.” she warned, her anger towards the boy due to the few words directed to JJ she was able to hear leaving little to no patience in her attitude. 

“This doesn’t concern you, (Y/N), piss off.”

“I think it does.” the girl took a few more steps and stood between Rafe and JJ, “Leave him alone.”

The Kook laughed, amused at the girl’s attempt of being frightening. 

“You guys see this?” he turned to his friends at the table, pointing at the two Pogues, and then looked at JJ, “Nice bodyguard you got here, Maybank. How do you pay her? You go down...”

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence, JJ went around (Y/N) and tried to grab Rafe’s shirt, his arm going back ready to throw a punch.

“What’s going on here?” another male, loud voice sounded behind them. It was JJ’s boss. 

“JJ, let go.” the girl grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from the Cameron, her voice calmer this time, hoping it would soothe JJ’s mood too. 

“What the hell are you doing now, Maybank? You’re really asking to be fired.” the man asked as he approached the scene. 

“Nothing.” (Y/N) answered before the blonde could do it, who looked at her, confused with what she was trying to do, “It wasn’t his fault.”

“I didn’t ask you, lady.”

“Yeah but I answered anyway.”

“(Y/N/N)...” JJ whispered, hoping she would shut up before she got in trouble too. 

“JJ’s just doing his job, your clients are the ones who don’t know what respect is.”

“What do you know about my clients, Pogue?” the man laughed, “This isn’t your side of the island.” 

“I know enough and they don’t get to treat your workers like this, not if you want to keep them around so you can run this joke of a place.” 

“(Y/N), seriously, stop.” JJ whispered again and reached to grab her hand discreetly, trying to catch her attention. She let him intertwine their fingers, but kept going.

“This man is a hard worker so I don’t think it’s fair for him to be treated like this.” the man rolled his eyes, “Oh, and also, if you want to call out your workers at least do it in private, it doesn’t convey a very good image of this place doing it in front of other clients.”

She finally turned to the Pogue and reached her hands behind his back. He was confused by her action but when he felt his apron get loose and getting snatched from his waist, his heart started to beat faster with anxiety. Fuck, I’m gonna get fired he thought. (Y/N) smacked the apron into the man’s chest and then grabbed JJ’s hand back.

“Since you haven’t paid him what you owe him yet I think it’s only fair he has an extra day off. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, she dragged the boy out of the country club, leaving an embarrassed boss behind. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

JJ leaned against his bike, head low, just like his voice to avoid making noticeable the crack in it. 

“Yes I did, you would’ve been fired.” 

“Maybe I should’ve been.”

“No, shut up, JJ. You don’t deserve that.” 

He took a deep, shaky breath. He wanted to thank her, he wanted to say how much he appreciated what she did for him, not only that time, but every time she was there for him. Every time she was simply there. 

“Hey.” she whispered, positioning herself in front of him, her feet in between his. She tried to lift his chin up so he could look at her, but his eyes refused to meet hers. She held his face upwards anyway, wanting to read his emotions, “I mean it. Stop thinking everything is your fault and that you deserve it.”

There wasn’t anything going through JJ’s head that, even when he wouldn’t pronounce it, couldn’t be shown on his face, and no one could read it better than (Y/N). So when he bit his bottom lip and blinked a few times in a row, she knew he was holding back a sob and tears and her heart broke a bit at the sight of her best friend being so broken. So she hugged him, she held him so tight that he couldn’t hold his tears anymore. Just like she knew him better than anyone, she was also the only one he fully trusted to hold him while he had a breakdown. He couldn’t hide anything from his best friend, not even his vulnerable side, because no one could put him back in place the way she did.

This was another thing that scared the shit out of him. If he couldn’t hide what he had labeled as his most shameful side, how could he possibly hide his new found feelings for (Y/N)? How was he supposed to look her in the eye and not spill everything, even more terrifying, when he didn’t even need to speak? She would know, and he didn’t know how to cope with that, how to act around her knowing she knew. What would she think? 

For a moment, his tight embrace around (Y/N) and his heavy tears and sobs weren’t because of the awful week he had. It was because he was scared of losing the girl he was holding. So he held her tight, as if savoring the way her arms felt around him, as if consuming every bit of love she was giving him so he could store it for when she was gone. Because she would know and she would run away. 

Part 2

.............................................................................

Lemme know if you want to be tagged in it (someone had sent me a request to be on the taglist but I forgot who was it, so please hit me up so I can add you!)

[studiojeon]

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | -  how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :) 

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break. 

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus. 

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would. 

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time. 

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building. 

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?” 

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway” 

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack. 

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (June 9/2021) -        New Citizens

Ponk has a chat with Sam, Fundy and Purpled officially join Las Nevadas, and Ranboo receives an update message from the Council.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Fundy

Purpled

Ranboo

---

- Ponk continues building the bridge in his new valley

- He returns to Foolish’s summer home and finds the countersuit Puffy left. He reads it. Many of the claims he doesn’t think are actually against the law of the land. He insists he wasn’t quoting Roadtrip during his Banquet speech, but rather an old man

- Ponk will have the best lawyers (he also may pay the jury off but don’t tell anyone). He’s amused that Puffy would work with BadBoyHalo and call Ponk the ‘dirty Eggpire supporter’

- He finishes reading the lore suit and greets Purpled in chat, telling him that he’s getting sued by Puffy

- Sam logs on and Ponk takes him over to the valley. They’ve had their differences, but Ponk is in need of a good lawyer. Sam suggests Tubbo, but Tubbo is expensive and intimidating

- Ponk points out that Sam will be the only one in the jury with an elevated IQ like his own. Sam hasn’t been officially selected for the jury yet, and they might think he’s biased, having cut off Ponk’s arm (Sam says he did it for good reason)

- They reach the valley and Sam approves of Ponk’s bridge

Sam: “You can see Kinoko Kingdom from here.”

Ponk: “(gagging sound) No, you can see Niki’s place! Niki’s communist cult! It’s great! We’re gonna set up a nice trade agreement, and (mumbling) then we’ll burn Kinoko Kingdom down to the groun-- I mean, then we’ll have nice trade deals with everyone, you know?”

- Ponk is bitter about losing his arm and Sam blames it on him for stealing the keycards

Ponk: “Sam...just so you know, just so you know...You can come to me after...after everything. I will still support you, Sam, okay? You’ll have a place to stay, because, all the wrong you’ve done is gonna catch up behind you, you know? All the wrong that you’ve done--”

Sam: “I haven’t really done anything wrong.”

Ponk: “Haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”

Sam: “No, I think I’m a good guy.”

Ponk: “You think you’re a good person?”

Sam: “I don’t know, you don’t think I’m a good person?”

Ponk: “I mean -- my opinions are biased.”

- Ponk asks Sam to walk and talk with him on the way back to Spawn. Sam’s spoken with Purpled recently

- They visit the animal sanctuary and Sam suggests they steal the strider. Ponk tells him stealing is bad. Sam wants to let it out. They play with the strider a bit

- Ponk explains his conflict with Puffy in general terms

Sam: “Look, I have a random crossbow from one of those guys that we killed.”

Ponk: “You said that so casually...life is precious, you know.”

- Ponk asks about the bank. He’s free to work. Sam says it’s up to Hannah. The two discuss the bank system

- Ponk hasn’t seen Technoblade in a while. Sam thinks he must be overthrowing governments in a far off land or something

- Ponk offers to trade with Sam for two stacks of redstone blocks. He asks how much for his arm back. Sam says he destroyed it. Ponk is upset that Sam didn’t keep it, but Sam says it was too mangled

- Sam trades some gold for the redstone

- They fight a raid together and capture a Ravager

- The two continue to chat for a while

- Fundy stands by his bed. He had a great sleep! He dreamt about a Windows update and he’s looking...a little sleepy?

- He checks the to-do list. Today’s the day. He grabs some things for the road. Fundy decides he’ll go alone. He doesn’t want to risk losing his snow fox friend

- He says hi to his Aunt Panisha (a salmon in the river) as he sets off, asking her to wish him luck

- Fundy reaches Las Nevadas wonders where Quackity’s office is. After some deduction, he heads to the Needle and spots Quackity going up the elevator

- After some hesitation, Fundy goes up the elevator too and comes face-to-face with Quackity, who sees him and asks if he’s okay. Fundy says he’s doing fine, he had a weird sleep and may have woke up outside the window

- Fundy tells him that he took his advice and bettered himself. They sit at the table and Fundy shows him his new diet. Quackity says he’s proud of him

- Fundy mentions that last time they spoke, he suggested they play cards and back at home, he didn’t sleep because he was waiting for Quackity to come over...and then he didn’t

- Quackity explains he just had a bunch of paperwork to do

- Fundy spots some slime blocks bunched at the side of the room and asks what that’s about. Quackity says it’s “a friend” of his, that he’s probably asleep

- Quackity gets Charlie to emerge from the slime

Charlie: “Hey, Fundy from L’manburg!”

- He was in the middle of his gloop-morphosis. Fundy is confused at how he knows who he is. Charlie digs into the floor and gets Fundy to greet him, slurping up some slime

- Quackity tells Charlie he needs to speak with Fundy. Charlie says he can “sell it” and starts telling Fundy he looks like he wants to gamble. Fundy asks Quackity why he’s talking like this, and Quackity says he must have learned it from TV

- Fundy finds out that Charlie is incredibly old and asks Charlie about how he knew he was from L’manburg. Charlie declares them best friends

- Fundy tells Quackity that he’s changed, that he’s a better man. Quackity thinks it’s great, but he doesn’t want Fundy to portray a false version of himself

- Charlie looks at Fundy close-up and says he hasn’t changed

- Quackity doesn’t want Fundy to join under these conditions. Fundy insists he’s fine, he isn’t portraying a false version of himself

- Fundy’s lived in that cottage for way too long. All these nightmares are because of him interacting with people and he’s ruining it for them -- but ever since he’s improved himself and become more healthy, he hasn’t had those nightmares

- Quackity has thought about it a lot, and Fundy’s work in L’manburg was exceptional. He thinks Las Nevadas will be a stepping stone to Fundy’s success

- Charlie gets Fundy to smell him and asks him what it’s like to dream. Fundy sniffs and maybe swallows a piece of Charlie. Charlie tells him one day he’ll be whole again

- Quackity passes Charlie a bone of one of their “mutual friends” in L’manburg and asks Charlie to analyze it

- Quackity and Fundy leave Charlie in the Needle and go back down. Quackity brings him downstairs, where he tells Fundy there’s no going back. He wants to make sure Fundy can trust him and hands Fundy a book to sign:

---

All persons naturalized in Las Nevadas, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of Las Nevadas and the land wherein they reside.

The signing of this document subjects you to the rights and duties of the nation:

TAXES. Residents are required to pay a jurisdictional and financial charge to the nation to fund future projects and development of the nation. Failure to pay could result in the extinction of your permanent residence and possibly death.

MILITARY PARTICIPATION.  One of your duties as a resident of Las Nevadas is the complete protection of the nation. You’re required to participate in any wars, conflicts, or disputes of the nation, in favor of Las Nevadas.

LAND. One of your rights as a resident of Las Nevadas is a self assigned plot of land, approved by the proper authorities, to develop productive businesses, homes, entertainment centers, etc.

GAMBLING. Gambling is defined as staking of something of value, with consciousness of risk and hope of gain, on the outcome of a game. Gambling is completely legal in Las Nevadas, but subject to constantly changing regulations.

THE LV LEGAL SYSTEM ---------------------------- Las Nevadas and any disputes within the nation will be settled in the Las Nevadas court (TBA), with the presence of the conflicted parties, and the proper authorities.

FALURE TO RESPECT THE CONSTITUTION AND THE DUTIES WHICH ARE ASSIGNED TO THIS RESIDENCE WILL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF CITIZENSHIP,  AND, IF GUILTY OF A CRIME AGAINST THE NATION, YOU ARE SUBJECT TO

DEATH.

SIGNED .  .  .

QUACKITY

FOUNDER AND PRESIDENT OF LAS NEVADAS

---

- Fundy is nervous and hesitates

Quackity: “Fundy, I -- You’re like a brother to me. We’ve gone through so much. But I still have to protect my nation...surely you can understand that.”

Fundy: “No, I -- I can. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, um...it’s strong...You really believe in this nation, right? It’s like your child--”

Quackity: “Fundy...this is all I have left...if this nation dies, I die along with it.”

- Fundy signs the document with his full legal name:

Fun Jonatahan Micahel Vincent Georgina James Sus Dy

- He signs the book, gives it to Quackity and asks that if he ever reads it, to not call Fundy by his legal name

- Quackity welcomes Fundy to Las Nevadas as an official citizen!

- Charlie has control over the piece of slime inside Fundy. He tells Charlie not to do that

- Quackity asks Charlie if he has a name. They decide to call him “Meat” for now, but Charlie tells Quackity in “secret” (very loudly) that he isn’t actually meat...he is slime from the ground

- Quackity suggests they call him Slime From the Ground. He then says he is bones

- He leads the other two to the edge of Las Nevadas’ road and points out that they have a big issue: Tubbo’s outpost nearby. Quackity suspects that Tubbo may be planning some dangerous strategy against the country

- Quackity gives Slime some armor to put on

Slime: “Ready for war...don’t take my music discs!”

Fundy and Quackity: “Wh -- what did you just say?”

- Quackity has an informational video he can show Fundy later. They investigate the outpost. He reminds Fundy about the military protection portion of the document

- Quackity remembers the Butcher Army and asks how much experience Fundy has with the military. Fundy was part of every single one that’s existed

- Quackity suggests they build their own version of the outpost

- Slime starts breaking Tubbo’s windows. Quackity encourages it and tells Slime it’s called “griefing,” handing him dirt to spread around the place

- Quackity finds the two Totems of Undying they have at the outpost and asks if they should take them. He then says they should test them. He doesn’t know what they do

- Fundy isn’t sure they should, or what Tubbo’s intentions are. Quackity decides to leave them unless Tubbo retaliates for the griefing

- They notice the bridge and Quackity suggests a tollbooth

- Quackity explains the concept of taxes to Slime, who’s been watching Purpled recently. Purpled hasn’t done much, just farmed 

- They start building the tollbooth and Fundy brings up how medieval castles used to have boiling oil above the gates that they could use if there were people they didn’t like, and they could do something similar

- Slime starts throwing slime and Fundy can feel it (and it doesn’t feel good)

- Quackity asks for the bone he gave back, but Slime can’t tell the difference between all the bones

- Quackity remembers how when L’manburg exploded, Fundy and Niki came up to him and said it was a good day...what was that about?

Fundy: “The way I saw it was, during that time, everyone was trying to divide each other, right. Everyone was trying to divide each other...every one was either left or right and there was no in between. There was no...People always wanted to separate themselves and make war and destroy everything that was loved. When L’manburg was a thing, I cared about L’manburg, and then it got destroyed, right, and eventually, my hope at that moment was...that people just like, accepted that they shouldn’t--”

Quackity: “But you betrayed the nation...Fundy, the thing I’m getting at is, I don’t know your excuse or your thinking behind that...that will not happen again at this nation. No betrayals, no backstabbing. Not here. Understand?”

Slime: “What’s backstabbing?”

- Quackity and Fundy try to teach Slime how to backstab, then how to work the tollbooth against Tubbo

- Slime starts putting buttons on the walls. Quackity tells him not to, as it gives him bad memories

- Slime asks Fundy again what it’s like to dream. Fundy doesn’t want to talk about it, but Quackity notes that he’s been vague about it

- Fundy explains that every time something big happens in this place, he has dreams where he can sort of see what happens before it does. It’s like gazing into the future, except he loses details before it happens

- Quackity presses him on it. Let’s say they have a big war coming up, he takes Tubbo’s totems and Fundy sleeps and tells him what happens next so that they can prepare?

- Fundy doesn’t think that’s a good idea. Quackity doesn’t understand how real these things are

- What if they build an entire building for Fundy so that he can have these dreams comfortably? It’s just a possibility...

- Slime’s gloop-morphosis isn’t “complete” yet

- Quackity asks if Fundy knows Foolish. Fundy remembers one time he blew up a little bit of Foolish’s house and he finds out Foolish lives in Las Nevadas

- Quackity asks how long ago this was. Fundy says it happened a long time ago, but Slime corrects him

Quackity: “Just know, Fundy...he doesn’t know how to lie.”

- Quackity leaves to get diamonds and Fundy confronts Slime alone, asking him how he knows things. He tells Slime that in certain situations, it’s helpful to keep quiet on certain things for the benefit of other people

- They move on and Fundy teaches Slime a bit about fun and hobbies

- Quackity returns and they notice many squid in the nearby river. Quackity goes down and starts killing “cod” (salmon). Fundy corrects him that they aren’t cod, but to Quackity fish is fish. Fundy looks away while Quackity kills them

- They suggest Fundy be the food-gatherer. Fundy suggests a diet of fruit and plants

Slime: “What’s wrong with salmon? Your father loved them!”

- Quackity asks Fundy to elaborate on his father, if he came from a fishing family. Fundy asks Slime again about how he knows. Slime continually refers back to people “turning to dust.” 

- They ask about what Slime knows about them, then about Slime’s favorite memory. He digs a whole in the ground and waits for a bit

- They teach Slime about humor

Slime: “Two people walk into a bar. One is green, one is red. The green one is shaped -- is a bigger guy, and the red one is a smaller guy. To get to the bar, both got off a train. The train the red guy was on was going west at 40 miles an hour for 60 miles. The train the other guy was on did not serve lunch. They both walked into a bar, and 500 years later they were still just dust in the ground. At the end of it all, they were just still dust, and none of it mattered.”

- Slime tells another joke about a chicken turning into dust.

Quackity: “How long do you think it’ll take for me to turn to dust?

Slime: “I...I’ll make sure you never turn to dust, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”

- Quackity asks about Fundy’s father

Slime: “The sooty guy?”

- Quackity and Slime ask Fundy -- shouldn’t he know? Slime says Fundy can ask Wilbur about his history himself

Quackity: “Your dad’s alive, Fundy?”

- Fundy tells Quackity about how Phil came to him with some interesting news, that Wilbur is actually alive. Quackity ask when was the last time Fundy’s seen Wilbur. Fundy hasn’t seen him alive again yet

Quackity: “What’s your relationship with Wilbur?”

Fundy: “It’s...it’s complicated, man. It’s very complicated.”

Quackity: “Because...there’s an issue.”

- Fundy wants to talk to Wilbur about a lot of things. Quackity brings Fundy over to the headquarters and breaks the news that Wilbur came to see Quackity

Fundy: “...He saw you? He went on his way to see you, and -- and he’s not shown up to me to, you know -- why, why?”

- Quackity shows Fundy the “mark” Wilbur made. Wilbur asked to join Las Nevadas, and Quackity said no. He shows Fundy the name: Fort Big. Tommy and Wilbur are working together

- Quackity is just warning Fundy. He hopes this won’t get in the way of Fundy supporting the nation. Fundy just doesn’t know why Wilbur didn’t come to him, but he went to Quackity. 

Fundy: “Did he talk about me?”

- Quackity thinks he did, but he doesn’t remember what

- Fundy says goodbye to Slime and Quackity, heading off to settle down on his own. He stands at his plot of land, wondering if he’ll have to fight Wilbur

- Purpled is at his old base by the ruins of L’manburg. Life is good. He has DogChamp, he’s been fishing, no human contact

- He has something to attend to and goes to the cliffside nearby, finding Slime. He asks why Slime’s been watching him, who told Slime to spy. Slime avoids answering

- Purpled figures it’s Quackity and asks Slime more about how long he’s been above the ground, what he knows. Slime refers to him as “Purpled From a UFO” and Purpled shows Slime that his UFO has been destroyed by Quackity

- Purpled leaves Slime and visits the ruins. He notices Slime following him and tells him to leave again

- Slime traps himself in Dream’s honeymoon suite and Purpled continues down the path, looking at all the builds. He visits the Socializing Club and checks beneath the floor -- the trap he made all those months ago is still there. He wonders if anyone remembers these things

- Slime slimes his way out of the trap and Purpled visits L’manburg. He was just a pawn, there was no “Purpled in L’manburg” or “Purpled in Pogtopia” or “Purpled on Dream SMP’s side.” There was just no Purpled

- He returns to his house, gets DogChamp, puts him into a hidden chamber elsewhere. He stores his valuables...and rigs the entire place with TNT

He sets it off and it goes

- Slime talks to Purpled again. Purpled asks if Quackity is still interested in a new resident

- Purpled asks Slime to trust him as he retrieves DogChamp, and he gets Slime to lead him to Las Nevadas

- He makes it there and goes into the casino. Quackity doesn’t know what he has planned. He comes out to find Quackity there. Quackity takes him up to the top of the Needle

- Purpled makes it clear he only cares about the opportunity for himself, not for Quackity. He doesn’t stand for what Quackity does, doesn’t think there will ever be a time that he’ll respect Quackity as a person

- Quackity tells him they all change in some way or another. When he first became Vice President, he saw the best in everyone

Quackity: “I don’t really see the good in people anymore...but I do see opportunity.”

- Quackity tells Purpled that if they succeed with the nation, the two of them will be going down in history. Purpled starts to come around to thinking that maybe they are on the same page 

- Quackity had a citizenship document he meant for Purpled to sign, but he’s willing to gamble on it without

Quackity: “Welcome to Las Nevadas, Purpled.”

- He gives Purpled the document either way and tells him he has a right to a plot of land. Quackity will have a business meeting with all the residents soon

- Purpled asks for land behind the casino. He has an idea for something. Quackity agrees to give it to him

- Purpled leaves and speaks to himself with DogChamp at the stage. Things will be looking different around here real soon

- Ranboo goes to the mailbox he set up with the Council and checks it, finding a new update in the book along with a Netherite Axe labelled “axe of the end” in Enderman.

The update reads:

---

Hello. We have been observing the happenings around the server and we come bearing not news but rather a warning for you. We know that you like to stand idle and not engage in any kind of acts of violence and we respect you for that.

However, we also know that there are people that you care about and you need to understand that in order to take care of those people you are no longer able to just stand idle. You need to take a more active role again. We have given you something that can help with that. Use it carefully.

We respect your wishes. - The Council

---

- Ranboo takes the axe. He planned to work on Tubbo’s outpost, make it seem like more of a shop than an outpost

- He goes to the outpost and finds the griefing, cleaning it up

- As some protective measures, he leaves signs:

---

Hello! Whoever put a bunch of dirt everywhere, Dont!

This is going to be a new cookie shop! We dont have cookies yet

Please leave it alone! Or violence will be used.

---

- He continues working on the outpost and Techno logs on. Ranboo goes over to the new tollbooth and pays the toll of one bone

Techno: ranboo have you unlocked teleportation yet

Ranboo: not yet i dont think

Ranboo: let me try

Ranboo: yeah no

Techno: can you hurry up

Techno: asking for a friend

- Ranboo explores around Las Nevadas and makes a to-do list

- He makes a hidey hole in the strip club and strips some logs. He gets tempted to steal a Netherite block

His to-do list reads:

---

TO DO LIST FOR LAS NEVADAS: 1. Figure out what to get inside of. 2. Figure out what the hollow buildings are 3. Figure out why there are so many horses 4. Figure out who runs this place 5. Figure out what the black pillars are for

---

- He returns home and speaks with Tubbo in VC

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ]  Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here. 

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

 Can we talk for a sec?

 He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you. 

 “Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

 Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?” 

 Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

 You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

 “Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

 The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

 It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

 “Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been. 

 Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

 Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

 “I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do. 

 “It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

 “No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

 Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

 “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

 Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you. 

 “I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble. 

 “You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

 You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken. 

 “Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

 “Good.”

 You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

 “Thanks.”

 “See you in a few days.”

 “Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

 You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress. 

 He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

 So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

 Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. 

 Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable. 

 *

 Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them. 

 Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

 What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

 Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former. 

 Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

 The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

 Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

 Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

 He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

 “You’re bothering me.”

 “Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away. 

 It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

 “Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

 Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

 “Shut. The fuck up.”

 The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

 “We’ll see.”

 This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

 Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

 So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere. 

 Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong. 

 But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship. 

 Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t. 

 *

 Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

 It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

 “I missed you, Zacharias.”

 He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

 He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it. 

 “How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

 “They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew. 

 “Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

 “Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

 “No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

 “There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

 “Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke  that you’re still anxious around him?

 The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

 “Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

 Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

 “Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

 He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike. 

 His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight. 

 The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch. 

 When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice. 

 Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?” 

 Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

 “Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

 The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

 Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground. 

 But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would  be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

 *

 The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there. 

 He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.” 

 He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

 It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone. 

 The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

 And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

 Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture. 

 He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

 Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

 Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors. 

 It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

 Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

 He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides. 

 “Hey, stranger," you greet.

 Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

 “So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around. 

 You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

 Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

 “Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

 He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding. 

 “One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

 You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away. 

 “Rude,” you utter.

 He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

 “You know I’m smart.”

 Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

 He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't. 

 "I still don't get it."

 So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his. 

 "Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page. 

 Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen. 

 "Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head. 

 You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not. 

 But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles. 

 It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. 

 "God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us." 

 You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt. 

 He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin. 

 Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to. 

 “You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit. 

 You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours. 

 Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

 "Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers. 

 He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

 After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on. 

 *

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?" 

 You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question. 

 "Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

 Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured. 

 If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.  

 "Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?" 

 You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

 "Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you. 

 It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else. 

 You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him. 

 It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more. 

 You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc. 

 Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked. 

 You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?" 

 He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders. 

 The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

 When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see. 

 It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you. 

 Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him. 

 You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off. 

 You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest. 

 Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be. 

 You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

 Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip. 

 "Zeke," you breathe, body trembling. 

 "What is it, baby?" He coos. 

 "I—"

 He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand. 

 Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

 You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there. 

 Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good. 

 You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

 "Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time. 

 "It's getting late."

 Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration. 

 But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

 The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though. 

 Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them. 

 Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place. 

 After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car. 

 “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

 “Okay, yeah.” 

 He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

 Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car. 

 Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year. 

 The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort. 

 The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds. 

 You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much. 

 You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him. 

 It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend. 

 Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way. 

 He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you. 

 You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did. 

 "Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear. 

 He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear." 

 "Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say." 

 You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights. 

 It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups. 

 "Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no. 

 The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

 "'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine. 

 You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with. 

 "You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

 "I promise I'll behave."

 That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged. 

 So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea. 

 "Miche," you protest, drawing his name out. 

 "Just think about it."

 He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party. 

 As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen. 

 Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes. 

 "Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

 You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

 "We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

 "And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

 Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is. 

 There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before. 

 "Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward. 

 You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean it's weird and dramat—"

 "No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

 You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up. 

 "We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

 "Are you serious?" 

 You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm. 

 "As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life." 

 You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have. 

 He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on. 

 "His loss."

 "Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

 Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

 "Shut up."

 "I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

 "Excuse the fuck outta me?" 

 "In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

 This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it. 

 "We should change the subject."

 Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be. 

 "Why? Gettin' all worked up."

 "You are literally the worst."

 You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

 "Uh huh."

 He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him. 

 You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend. 

 Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else. 

 Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it. 

 It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong. 

 Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny. 

 "Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff. 

 "Why not?" 

 "'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

 He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

 "Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

 "I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

 Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

 "I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

 "So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

 You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now. 

 You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?" 

 Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

 "It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

 "Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

 "Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything." 

 He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

 But, he would never. 

 You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

 Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

 "I haven't seen your new apartment yet." 

 You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through? 

 "You sure?" He questions. 

 "Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

 "Are you sure?" 

 He must feel terrible. You can relate.

 "If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort. 

 "No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

 "Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

 You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help. 

 "Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

[winterscaptain]

figure it out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this has been in my wips for literal months as i’ve done my best to get it just right for yall. i hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think! There’s an addendum to this one, and i’m already working on it, but we’ll see a few more things before that’s ready :)

words: 3.5k warnings: sex mention, sex implication, language

summary: “love is like a backache. it doesn’t show up on an x-ray, but you know it’s there.” - george burns. au!january 2012. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You roll over in bed when your alarm goes off, but you don’t get very far. Aaron throws an arm over you and pulls you back to him with a grumble. 

You huff a laugh and wiggle up against him. It’s all a tease and you both know it - there isn’t any time to get up to anything fun before work, but it’s far too entertaining to rile him up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice escapes his lips between your shoulder blades and you can feel his smile. 

“Oh, trust me, babe. I can finish.” 

He hums, his smile breaking out into something real. “I noticed.” 

+++

When the two of you finally make it out of bed (surprisingly still on time), you grab one of Aaron’s scarves and a hat on your way out. It’s your turn to drop Jack at school today on your way into the office, and the task serves two purposes. 

The first? It’s nice to spend time with Jack, just the two of you, when it’s your turn and you’re not on a case. It’s the same for Aaron, who always leaves a little earlier so he and Jack can sit down somewhere and have breakfast together.

The second is pure logistics. You two can’t show up to work in the same car at the same time, so a convenient excuse to separate and stagger your arrivals is welcome. 

“Really?” 

Aaron’s question stops you at the threshold and you look over your shoulder “What?” 

“My hat? My scarf?” 

It’s almost too tempting to cave when he’s looking at you like that - his tie hanging around his neck, shirt untucked, arms crossed, and playful frown hiding a smile. 

“Yeah. It’s warm and it’s here and we’re late.” 

Jack squints up at you and says, “We’re not late.”

“You’re not late.”

The observations come within split seconds of each other and you laugh. 

“Fine. Not late, but warm. And you have more hats.” You scamper back into the house to plant a kiss on his lips, smoothing the hair at his temples. 

Jack’s laughter is the underscore to your next quip. “You’re very handsome and I’m sure you’re very smart so you can figure it out.” 

“Yeah, Dad,” Jack chirps. “Figure it out.”

He has nothing to say to your retreating forms as he catches a glimpse of your smile through the crack in the closing door.

+++

Emily and Spencer are away at a conference-book-signing thing, so it’s just the five of you and Penelope this morning. You’d normally figure that would be Rossi’s purview, but apparently - 

“My book-signing days have been put on hold indefinitely in favor of -”

“ - He’s back.” Garcia interrupts, tossing case files at all of you. The conversation is cut short and you suppress a smile. “The Marin headlands last night.” 

You can see Aaron’s lips pull as well. 

It’s the little things. 

Penelope gestures with the notes and crime scene photos appear on the screen. “David Atley and Nicole Puli, both 24, both grad students at Berkeley, shot multiple times in their vehicle-- wait for it--” She clicks again and a familiar sigil appears. 

“The Zodiac?” Morgan’s shock is almost sardonic in its delivery. 

Rossi snorts. “No way.”

“Come on,” Derek says, amused, while JJ chimes in as well. 

 “It's gotta be the 2.0 version.”

While neither of you speak, you share a glance with Aaron. You’re kidding. 

He only raises his eyebrows for a split second and shrugs. 

There’s some part of you a little paranoid that you’re the most obvious couple to exist in the history of the universe. Sure, the team has been teasing you about your friendship for years, the will-the-won’t-they of it all, but now that it’s real you’re almost terrified that they know everything. 

Thus, the overcompensation has been wretched. You and Aaron barely look at each other in the field if you can help it (which you usually can’t) and he tends to put you with Derek more often than not. 

In truth, the others have noticed, but are far too interested in the spectacle to say anything. Emily’s almost certain the two of you have slept together, and Dave may or may not have suggested the possibility of a secret marriage during your period of suspension. 

However far-fetched and ridiculous their theories, they know you two well enough to know that something happened. The tension is gone. 

Derek almost finds himself missing the tension. There hasn’t been much to tease you about lately in its absence. 

“Yeah, you would think so, except for the crazy similarities in the MO.” Penelope clicks through the photos as she talks. 

“I'm talking same victimology, same geography. And,” she adds. “Two souvenirs were left at the crime scene.” She clicks once more and stands back for the full effect. 

“He left a photo?” Rossi asks.

She hums in the affirmative. “Local police say that is Marcia Miller. She was found near Napa in 1971. Strongly suspected that she was a victim of the Zodiac, but police never confirmed it and they didn't publicize the case.” 

Morgan’s still squinting at the screen. “So the Zodiac took this photo at the killing and then saved it all these years?”

“The Zodiac's last confirmed victim was the cabdriver Paul Stine,” Dave notes devolving into a conversation about The Zodiac, his timeline, his signature. 

It’s nothing new - The Zodiac Killer’s case details are common knowledge in your line of work, nevermind the sheer number of copycats that try their hand at the highly-ritualistic murders before inevitably getting arrested. 

There’s a reason this guy hasn’t been caught in forty years. 

After a few minutes of bouncing between you all, Hotch pushes back from the table and stands. “Have Reid and Prentiss meet us in San Francisco. Wheels up in 30.”

He heads straight to his office to collect his things and you swing in by the tips of your fingers for just a second. “You wanna call Jess or do you want me to?” 

In the middle of throwing files in his briefcase, he doesn’t look up when he answers. “Can you, please? I was supposed to meet with Strauss this afternoon and need to stop by her office before wheels up.” 

You smile at him, tapping the door frame twice. “You got it.” 

+++

It’s boots on the ground right away when you land in San Francisco. You drive to the crime scene with Aaron in the passenger seat beside you and JJ in the back. The radio’s on, and you sing under your breath, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you make your way up to the crime scene. 

Before you get to the local FBI agents, JJ catches you by the sleeve. “It’s nice to have music in the car again.” 

You just smile at her. Aaron looks a little puzzled. 

The three of you wipe the looks off your faces by the time you get to Agent Lynn. 

+++

“What did JJ mean?” Aaron asks you. 

The two of you are alone for the time being, posted up in the conference room with the old Zodiac case files. You look up. “Hmm?” 

“What did she mean when she mentioned the music earlier?” 

“Oh.” A little flush of embarrassment shoots down your gut. “Derek pointed out to me last summer that I didn’t play any music in the car.” 

...while you were gone is the thing you don’t say, but he knows that’s what you mean. 

“I didn’t really notice.” You shrug to cover your fib. “I guess I’ve reacquainted myself with the radio in the last couple of weeks.” 

Aaron hums, returning to his work. Something’s off, but you’re sure it’ll come up later. 

+++

“You don’t think it’s really him, do you?” You ask, unbuttoning your shirt and throwing your pajamas on. 

Surprisingly, this case seems to be one of those that allows for sleep at regular hours. For that, you’re grateful. It’s much harder to find time to wind down with Aaron at the end of the day when you’re all forced to sleep in shifts. 

Aaron shakes his head, “No, I think Reid’s right. We’re looking at a particularly sophisticated copycat.” 

“Isn’t that kind of worse?” Hopping up on your bed, you curl up and look at him over your nose - a clear invitation to join you. 

With a huff down his nose and a little smile, he flops down beside you and props his chin on his arms over your belly. “Could be. Luckily, we have Reid.” 

You almost think he’s going to say something else, but he gets that pensive look on his face again. 

“What?” 

With a sigh, he says, “I’m just thinking about what JJ said.” 

“Oh, Aaron -” 

He doesn’t let you finish. It’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know what you wanted to say anyway. 

“I knew how hard it was on me, but I’m realizing more and more how hard it was on you, too.” He shakes his head. “I feel ...I don’t know. I feel like I should have known better… or something.” 

Winding your fingers in his hair, you sit in silence for a moment. He doesn’t have anything more to say and eventually he crawls up your body and settles in under your arm, his head on your chest and legs wound between yours.

Sometimes, you’ve found, he likes to feel small.  

“You’re safe and you’re home. That’s what matters.” You kiss the top of his head. “And I love you.” 

He hums, arcing into your touch and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you.” 

+++

You spend much of the next day chasing Spencer around the city, keeping notes handy (for yourself, not for him - he doesn't need them) and reporting back on his discoveries to the team like some kind of overwrought and hyper-trained secretary. 

Stepping off to the side, you answer a call from Aaron. 

“Hit your limit yet?” 

You look over at Spencer, who’s flipping through a newspaper like a man on a mission. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.” 

And that’s actually true. Watching Spencer push the limits of his intelligence is always a treat - it happens so rarely you almost forget how much you enjoy it every time. 

He huffs into the phone. “Hang in there. We’ll all meet back at the precinct once Reid’s done -”

“Doing magic?” 

“Exactly. Keep me posted.” There’s a pause. It’s an odd little habit you two developed in the field to leave space for the words you can’t say in front of the others. 

I love you.

“Me too.” 

+++

You’re almost asleep when a sliver of yellow light shoots across your room, promptly disappearing as the door to the hallway closes. 

He pads across the room and slips under the covers. “Hi.” 

A little smile crosses your face as you roll over to face him. “Hi.”

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on you and he’s half on top of you as he captures your lips. 

Needless to say, the lack of sleep is worth it. 

+++

Emily, long after she and Aaron are the only ones left in the precinct conference room, squints as she notices something right under his collar. 

He’s already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, no longer standing on ceremony now that all the local police have retired and the rest of the team gone up to their hotel rooms. There’s not much to do, but the compulsion to get ahead for tomorrow is one neither one of them can shake. 

What Aaron failed to remember when executing his wardrobe adjustment was the rather...spirited romp in your room the night prior. The little purple swatches painted on his skin just under the line of his collar stood out stark against the crisp lines of his dress shirt. 

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell the rest of the team would find anything he left on you last night. 

Emily reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube of concealer and a powder compact. Though he’s more olive-toned than she is, it’ll be good enough in a pinch. “Hey, Hotch.” 

He looks at her over his nose, his eyes tired. 

“You might want this for tomorrow morning.” She pushes the crisis control kit across the table to him, but he only frowns and deepens his squint. 

By way of explanation, she reaches across the table and presses the tip of her finger into one of the visible bruises in the hollow of his throat. He flinches, freezes, and then immediately drops his head into his hands. 

It’s easy to say Emily is amused in the extreme. “Those look...really fresh.” 

He shakes his head, insisting as he picks up a file at random, “They’re from before we left.” 

It’s only because it’s Emily that he’s even humoring this conversation. 

“No they’re not.” She sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek. “These ones are though.” She points at yellowing marks on his collarbone and he smacks her hands away. 

“And I know what fresh hickies look like, Hotch. Those are fresh fresh. Like, last night fresh. And we’ve been here for four days.” She frowns, tracking back through the day. “When on earth would you have time to -” 

A series of images flash through her head, random wayward connections flashing together in an alarmingly clear picture.

You, avoiding her at the office back in September with quickly-covered marks painted across your neck.

You, flirting with Sean and having way too much fun doing it, looking over his shoulder at ...someone else.

Hotch, in a perpetually good mood (for him, anyway, and despite looking ill-slept) for the last five months. 

The way the mistletoe kiss at Dave’s Christmas party looked way too easy, too familiar. 

And now, the obvious indicators that Hotch is not only getting it, he’s getting it good. 

If he got those last night…

Wait. 

Their hotel rooms are right next to …

Oh my God. 

Hotch watches the realization flash across Emily’s face, and he knows you’re both busted. Instead of losing her shit like he expected, Emily just leans back in her chair - smug. 

“So. Are you still Not the Boyfriend, or has there been an update?”

He sighs. 

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How long?”

“For which part? The not-boyfriend part, the boyfriend part, or this part?” He gestures vaguely to the space behind his tie, and Emily snorts. 

“Just spill it.” 

Holding up a finger, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial. 

You’re hardly asleep, sitting up in bed waiting for him with a case file in your lap, when you get the call. You’re not sure who’s listening, so a “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” will have to do. 

“Emily knows.” 

You straighten. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. She knows.” 

There’s a scramble, and suddenly Emily’s on the other end of the phone. “He’s got very questionable and very fresh bruises just under his collar. Care to explain?”

There’s another shuffle. 

“Ignore her,” Aaron says. With a hand pressed to your forehead, you understand the question implicit in his phone call. 

“Just tell her. It’s basically her fault, anyways. If she hadn’t ditched it then we’d have our heads up our asses for another five years.”

“Alright,” then, after a second of realizing you don’t sound sleepy at all, “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.” 

He rolls his eyes. Emily can only look on with amusement, gleeful in the extreme. “You know that’s not what I mean. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You reluctantly close the casefile and put him on speaker so he can hear the light click off. “I’m going to sleep.” Then, “I love you. Come up soon.”

“Okay.” He shoots a glance at Emily. Because he’ll never hear the end of it anyway, more ammo won’t hurt at this point. “I love you too. Now, really. Go to slee -”

You hang up on him. He double-takes at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket. 

He’s met with Emily’s surprisingly moved eyes. “You’re...okay.”

What she means is, You’re happy. 

He knows. 

He nods. “I’m okay.”

She puts her files down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. “Tell me.” 

So, he does. 

He tells her about the way you stuck to him like glue through the divorce, the way you wiggled your way into Haley’s heart, captured the love of his son, and earned the trust of his entire family. 

He tells her what Haley said in the hospital, the tenacious care you showed his unyielding and unwilling ass when he was healing, the way your grief soothed his in the wake of Haley’s loss. 

He tells her about the moments of euphoria in the years of want and doubt and fear. 

He tells Emily about the day she died, how there was nothing more painful than that necessary lie. He tells her how easy it was to lie to the others, how it ripped him in half to lie to you. 

He tells her about the day he left for Pakistan, about the fight the night before, the kiss he pressed to your cheek on the tarmac, the endless, wretched nights missing you in the desert. 

He tells her about the fight when he finally came home, skims over the following days, jumps and meanders around to Christmas, to moving in, to the bliss that now seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

Emily watches the smile that plays at his mouth when he talks about you, the softness in his eyes as recalls the look on your face and the words you said and the way you are with Jack. There’s a kind of peace in him that she’s never really seen before. 

Maybe, she imagines, it was there before she met him (the second time). Maybe this peace existed with Haley. Maybe this is the most she’s ever heard him speak at once. Maybe it makes her smile. 

Maybe this peace is what his love looks like. 

If that’s the case, she thinks, you are very lucky indeed. 

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but at some point he stops talking. 

“Hotch?” 

He looks over at her, the softness lingering in his eyes. 

“I’m really happy for you.” 

His lips twitch. “Thanks.” 

“And you know it’s my God-given right to tell everyone else once this case is over, right?”

+++

You actually are asleep by the time Aaron gets back to the hotel. He leans against the wall in the dark with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the peace before the inevitable shitshow. 

He crosses the room and crouches at your side, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You stir, sleepy noises leaving your throat as your eyes crack open. 

“Aaron?”

“Yeah. Just me.” 

You smile a little and close your eyes again. “How’d she take it?”

“Remarkably well.” He kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No,” you whine, drawn-out and slurred. “Don’t leave. Stay. I set an alarm.”

With a resigned sigh, he strips and slides into bed behind you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. 

+++

You and Aaron sit on proverbial pins and needles for the rest of the case, but Emily keeps her word. The only indication of her knowledge came the morning after her chat with Aaron, when she pulled you to her and hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe. 

She seizes her moment on the plane, about halfway home. 

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks.” 

She hardly looks up from her book as she speaks. 

He takes off his headphones and wrinkles his brow. “What?”

She repeats herself, slower, as if she was speaking to a child. “You. Owe. Me. Fifty. Bucks.”

“...Why?” 

Emily finally looks up from her book to pointedly stare at you and Aaron, seated next to each other and sharing a bag of Goldfish you stole from Jack’s snack drawer. You’re both reading from the same file, absently reaching for crackers as you go along. 

Derek’s confusion continues to smother his face until it finally clicks in. 

He steals a page from Reid’s notebook and balls it up, tossing it across the plane and breaking your concentration. You look up, only a little startled, to find a face-splitting grin blinding you across the cabin.

Derek’s small ruckus has drawn the attention of the rest of the team - well, all except JJ, who’s fast asleep on the couch. 

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief as money exchanges hands. You’re not quite sure what the bet was, but Emily seems to have won handily. 

Aaron takes your hand under the table, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It doesn’t. 

Everyone simply returns to their tasks, little smiles on their faces. 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[phantaloon-books]

I was rereading the iconic reunion at baltimore and this came to me and I can't not write it (even though I have a half finished chapter waiting to be written for a fic for a whole different fandom but who cares right)

in which neil regrets realizes that the feds were on to something when they talked about witness protection program. brace yourselves, it's angst time bby. please bear with me, I don't write stuff like this, content and format wise.

so everyone knows what goes down in baltimore. everyone knows that famous college exy striker for the foxes neil josten has been the son of the butcher of baltimore all along, and that smth happened after he was kidnapped and tortured that resulted in the butcher and some associates to be killed. everyone knows that neil walked out alive, injured but alive. so when a few weeks, months later, associates of the butcher start getting raided and taken in custody, everyone knows exactly who opened his little mouth and revealed everything he knows (bc there's literally no one else who could know this stuff and would be willing to share with the fucking feds, no one has a death wish)

It's a slow process. It starts with the feeling of not being safe, which is ridiculous, because he hasn't been quite as safe as he is right now, with the foxes, his family, and most importantly with Andrew. They're on summer break, technically speaking, even if they're at campus for practice because they gotta train the new foxes. They're barely doing anything than hanging out together and training, but still Neil can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that someone is watching him, but he doesn't say anything, because it doesn't make sense, he's just being paranoid, there's no need to panic.

Neil can swear he's being watched. He feels the dread whenever he's out of the dorm, when he's out running, when they go out to eat something, when they go to the mall, on their way to practice, at Eden's. But when he looks around there's no one looking, it's been weeks and nothing has happened, he hasn't seen anyone.

Neil can tell Andrew is growing suspicious of the way he checks out a place, the way his eyes trace every corner, every exit, because he's starting to fall back in old habits, and he knows Andrew hates it. But Andrew doesn't ask, he knows that Neil will speak when he feels ready, so he lets it go, even if he can't quite let got of the worry clawing at his heart.

But everything keeps going normally, things are fine, everything is fine fine fine. Neil doesn't talk about it, but it's fine really. Until it's not fine at all, but it's also too late to talk now because his head is fuzzy and throbbing, and he feels like he might throw up and he feels pain even if he's not sure where the pain is coming from. But he can't do anything now, he can't tell Andrew how he's been feeling dread for weeks, because a man whose name he doesn't even know but whose face is awfully familiar is standing right in front of him where he lies on the floor, and the situation is also awfully familiar.

Stop being a martyr. Oh Andrew would kill him. If Neil gets out of this alive, Andrew will kill him, because he left again. He didn't want to, he really didn't. He was out on a run while Andrew was in therapy with Bee and Aaron, a couple miles away from fox tower, when a car pulled up right in front of him, two men wearing hoods and sunglasses stepping out and standing in front of him. He came to a halt, trying his best to keep calm because who the hell were these men and what did they want and for fucks sake can this just stop? It would have been smart to turn around and try to get back to the tower but he can't ever keep his mouth shut can he?

"Look I don't know who you are, I don't care what you want, but you're in my way, so move away if you know what's best." He intended to go for more sarcastic, but he was doing his best not to panic, so that had to do.

"You're coming with us, get in the car, or we'll do this the hard way." Their voices said they wouldn't hesitate, but Neil laughed anyway, that smile he knew was the Butcher's resting on his lips. Anything to make the men leave. He opened his mouth and then- "The Minyard twins are at Dr. Dobson's office. Reynolds, Walker, and Wilds are at the mall. Hemmick, Boyd and Day are in the dorms. The newbies are at the dorms as well. Come with us the easy way and we'll let them walk out of their respective places alive, Nathaniel."

And he was fucked. Of course he hadn't been safe, he would never be safe. In fact no one he cared about would ever be safe. He should have known better. But he wasn't going to let the foxes be harmed.

"How do I know you won't kill them anyway?" The snark was gone, the smile vanished. His face was blank and dangerous, because he'd done this before. "I don't even know who you are, you're obviously not the big guys, and I don't remember seeing your faces."

"We don't want to attract unnecessary attention. All we care about is you. If you come, you spare us all the trouble. As for who we are, let's just say someone is pissed at the piece of shit that ruined everything."

"The Butcher's friends then. I can't argue with that, it's a habit of mine to fuck up. Ichirou won't be too happy if something happened." He played his strongest card but fuck it. The Moriyamas owed him protection, Ichirou himself had made a deal with him.

"The moment they turned their backs to the Wesninski and made a deal with Hatford, those Japanese shits mean nothing to us." These were desperate men apparently. If the Moriyamas were nothing, the FBI was even less. "Time is running Nathaniel, decide. You or them?"

Andrew would kill him, but they'd talked about it before. Neil had told Andrew. If it means losing you, then no. He would not put himself first. Hell, he'd told the others before, the Foxes were all he had, he wasn't going to risk them for himself, not for anything. He needed to keep them safe.

So now he's lying on the cold wooden floor of some house or shed or whatever, drowsy from whatever they drugged him with once he got in the car, and in pain after being beaten for the last hour or so. He didn't bother asking the man (who is obviously in charge and sent the two men) for a name, and honestly he still doesn't plan to. What was the point of that anyway? He just looks up at the cold brown eyes of the man standing over him, Neil's face as neutral as he could keep it despite the fear of not making it out alive threatening to pull him under. The man just stares at him, calculative eyes and cruel smile, and Neil can't take it.

"What, so you're just gonna stand there? I have better shit to do." He hears the slur in his voice, wonders if it's just the drugs or something else. A concussion is likely. He's met with silence, so he closes his eyes and lays his head down. Fuck he's tired of these situations. He truly will never be safe, no one will-

"You know, I was expecting so much more from you Nathaniel," the man says with a laugh, "I was told that you'd put up a fight, I thought this would be fun. They said you'd beg for your precious life, but you haven't even made an effort."

Whoever his source was, they definitely do not know Neil, or Nathaniel for that matter. Not only is he not going to risk the men hurting the others, but he isn't going to fight, not against so many of them, not when running would be more likely to get him out alive. He isn't going to let them know that. "First go fuck yourself, and second, this isn't remotely close to entertaining to what I've been through, maybe if it was more interesting."

What does Andrew say? Regret is worthless? It seems right, because he can't find regret in what he said, even if his face is a bloody mess (what's new?) and his body shakes with shivers, after his head is held underwater so many times. No, he doesn't regret it. Instead he finds himself laughing a hollow thing.

"Y'know at least others have had a point, this time it's just for the fun of it, and it's not being much fun." His voice cracks a couple times, hoarse from coughing up water.

"You're right though, it is for fun. You cost me absolutely everything Nathaniel. Did you know the feds and the Moriyamas have been after us for months? Hunting us like we're rabbits, all because you decided to be a dipshit and open your mouth. You should be dead. You should have died ten years ago, back in March, anytime. All your existence caused us is trouble. And ratting us to the feds wasn't enough was it? No you told Ichirou all of the Butcher's men were loose ends, too." The man took a deep breath, composing himself. "So yes Nathaniel, this is for fun. This is payback, you've cost many lives, this is retribution for speaking, and I'm gonna enjoy seeing you have fun for as long as I can."

At some point, after hours, he's left alone in the dark, in the cold. He knows he’s in pain. He’s pretty sure his arm is broken, and so are several ribs. He knows he should be in a lot of pain, but he's just numb. Regret is worthless. Because even if he feels even worse than how he felt last winter at Evermore, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t be sure the guy’s men were truly going to kill the Foxes, but he doesn’t regret coming here to make sure the others don’t suffer more than they already have because of him. He wonders if Andrew will forgive him. He didn’t leave proof that he didn’t want to leave this time. Would Andrew think he left them - him? God, he hopes not. Would Andrew look for Neil or leave it thinking that Neil wanted to leave?

It doesn’t really matter, though. Neil is so tired. This time isn’t like when he was on the run or when he went to Evermore or when Lola took him. While with the Ravens, Kevin knew he was there at least, if anything were to happen, a person would know where to look somehow. At Baltimore, several people knew the most likely place to find him; Uncle Stewart, the Hatfords, Kevin again. He has no idea of where he is, or who took him, and no one knows he’s been taken in the first place. No one will ever find him.

Maybe it’s better that way, he thinks. No one will have to deal with the burden of him or his disappearance or his death, because no one will know. The simple thing would be to assume he ran. He hopes they assume he ran. Maybe they’ll be hurt, but haven’t they been expecting him to run? They won’t make it to championships without him considering Jack is an awful striker, but Kevin will manage. Andrew - Andrew is the one who expects him to run the most, maybe he’ll take it nicely. Neil hopes he takes it nicely. Guilt blossoms among the nothingness in his chest, but he can’t take it back, and he doesn’t want to. It’s better this way. No one will find him, but that’s fine. He wonders what the Moriyamas will do. He doesn’t want to think about that. He thinks of Andrew, the kisses, the care, the love, the nights spent together. Thank you, you were amazing. He wishes he could tell him how much he cares one last time. He feels something wet slip down his face. He can’t tell if it’s water, blood or tears. He sighs. He thinks of Andrew, and his eyes slip close.

[indianamoonshine]

c h a p t e r | i

summary: every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. it's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become...well, let's fact it...smitten.

rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won't ever go into physical detail about the reader's appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. so, without further ado, here's an aesthetically pleasing fanfic.

the moment din djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.

at first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. june in the midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.

you were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. you played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. he imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar’s. within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.

your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. he would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.

you must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. sweet as music.

"dad? is that you?"

din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. he manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.

your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.

"my daughter. one of them, anyway. she and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.

but you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. you reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.

he does. and it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.

"how do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. if he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.

your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.

|||

you were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.

you weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious din djarin.

"who is he?" charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. it was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.

rhea lays in the shade of a peach tree. "one of dad's old friends," she says. she waves herself with a floral paper fan she'd gotten from chinatown while visiting you in new york.

"but why is he here?"

madeline, who paints with her watercolors, pipes in. "i heard he got into some trouble with the law and now he's in hiding."

you roll your eyes with a scoff, lounging in the grass and watching the clouds in the bright, blue sky. "madeline, that's absurd."

rhea (who is the oldest and most pragmatic) surprises you when she shrugs her shoulders. "i don't know. he looks likes a bad boy..."

you recall the way his jaw clenched as you introduced yourself - his neck was tempting. his skin glowed with a radiant hue in the sunlight and his eyes shone with an aura of broodiness. he was very austenian.

"boy is hardly the word," you correct.

charlotte, being the flirt, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. she swims in the pond, hair wet and fanning against the water. she sinks lowly for dramatic effect. "how right you are."

"trouble or not, he was a perfect gentleman." rhea sighs and skims the water with her forefinger. "either way, he's easy on the eyes so i don't mind having him around."

easy on the eyes was putting it mildly. you wouldn't say that to the girls though; they had a habit of teasing when you showed interest in anyone attainable let alone a man decades older than you.

"don't do anything stupid, charlotte." madeline dips her paintbrush into her mason jar full of pond water.

charlotte huffs and flips her hair from her shoulder. it makes a splash, rippling the water as a result. "why not? we're all of legal age."

"he's dad's friend and a guest," you remind her, tearing your gaze away from the clouds.

the middle child lets out a pathetic whimper. "you guys are no fun," she groans.

|||

it was a busy season on the farm.

strawberries were ready to be picked by mid june and there was a three week window to do it. harvesting wasn't easy and it took a lot of man work. hands went numb, skin grew calloused. the sun that beat down on the fields was only manageable by the sprinklers that went off every blessed-ed fifteen minutes. during a drought, it was even worse.

the employees picked from seven in the morning until five in the evening. your father was adamant that breaks be plenty and pay be as prosperous as he could afford, but a strawberry farm wasn't a fortune five hundred company. he did what he could to provide the families with some semblance worthy enough to continue, and so every year he threw a dinner party.

it was always a lovely occasion, brimming with delectable treats and savory entrees. candles were aflame, lanterns lit up the pathway that lead to the entrance of the home and then the land leading into the woods. as a child, the dinner party was as exciting as a birthday. it was a night to look forward to all year long, sharing time with family and friends and gorging yourself on food you wouldn't eat any other friday of the week.

your sisters loved it too, mostly because they enjoyed the promise of gossip that poured from the mouths of guests like the wine served. and now that din djarin - a stranger, in all respects of the word - was attending an annual dinner that's managed to keep as tradition for years, gossip would surely be abundant as the wine itself.

guests arrived by the hour until the clock struck seven. the evening was crisp but warm enough to be comfortable without a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. the rock doves sung loudly to declare that sunset had begun, a few rogue and early lightning bugs blinking rhythmically. children of the employees ran throughout the fields bare footed and chanting taunts to their friends as their parents chattered among themselves.

home. here is home.

while the party had already begun (officially, at least), dinner hadn't yet been served. admittingly, you were a bit behind schedule, but you worked quickly to finish setting the tables. the theme was simple; linen napkins and wildflowers in random antique vases you found in your basement. the lilacs you'd picked from their bushes were already beginning to limp but you hoped no one would notice.

you hum when you work. whether it be intentional or not you find your lips buzzing with a tune plucked subconsciously from your brain as your hands busy themselves. you straighten the tablecloths, fill the vases with water, and set the silverware in their particular order. needless to say, you had a tendency to get lost in your own little world. so when a hand gently tapped you on the shoulder, you spun around with a shriek.

din djarin - man of the hour - is smirking handsomely at you, hands fiddling with a depressed looking lilac. you place a palm against your heart and count its beats. too many.

"mister djarin," you sigh out. "you scared me."

he lets out a breathy chuckle, hands running through his wavy locks. "i see that. i'm sorry, but i was just wondering if you'd like some help."

his voice...oh, stars and garters. it was so rough but tender - like a steak. you cock an eyebrow at how strange the comparison is but convince yourself it didn't matter. still, you're blushing from the jump so you duck your head from his gaze.

"there's not much left to do," you admit, turning back to the table. you spread your hands against the tablecloth to ward off any wrinkles. "you can double check if i missed any forks, i suppose. i have a tendency to do that."

din hums in his throat and nods a little. "sure," he says, moving to the first setting. his eyes scan along the silverware carefully. "where are your sisters? they don't help, huh?"

"they're better at entertaining," you say truthfully. "i volunteer to take care of the dinner part...as long as i don't have to socialize as much i'm content."

it was true. it's not that you had an aversion to people in general, but you tried to avoid conversation whenever possible - it wasn't your strong suit. you could get away with it when need be but you found it took too much energy to pretend to enjoy conversation about the weather or politics.

"i understand," din nods. he straightens a spoon with the nudge of his finger. "i find myself to be the same way."

there's an awkward silence between the two of you. you didn't know how to respond. while you weren't good at social situations in general, you found it natural to feign interest in subjects bland enough to circumvent discomfort...but you felt the need to impress him.

"so you'll be staying with us this summer then?" you decide, falling short. how stupid.

din nods swiftly. "yeah. in one of the cabins."

the cabins were located at various points of the land your father owned. in order to get there, one usually took an ATV or walked if the going gets tough. you preferred to stroll along the river, but your sisters liked riding the four wheelers or their bikes.

"which one?" you ask, tone mindless.

din's finished with double checking your work. he pulls out a chair - an old, wooden antique - and sits down upon it with caution. you stifle a laugh and, if he notices, he doesn't say anything. he'd soon learn that everything here was old but sturdier than they looked. you wish you could say it was for aesthetic purposes but it was more convenient than anything.

"the one closest to the pond," din replies lowly.

you notice how his eyes survey your form and how intimate it was. he was studying you but for whatever reason you couldn't be sure. you try to shake away the idea that he could be (dare you say?) pining over you. how silly. like you told charlotte: din djarin was off limis.

that was the end of it.

you find yourself blushing again so you hide your face. "that's my favorite one," you tell him honestly. "i like the view."

din smiles in agreement. "so do i."

if you weren't so heated with frustration, you would've called him out on the implication (as out of character for you it may be). then again, you found yourself weakened by the mere presence of this man. it wasn't unlike you, per say; you were naturally timid but there was an eagerness to his charm that you weren't familiar with. guys your age were so sure of themselves but it was almost always under false pretenses. this man however...well, he was a man and that was intimidating.

fine. it was hot.

you clear your throat in an effort to regain a semblance of poise. this summer had already proven to be laborious in a way you hadn't expected.

[mymedicine]

Love and Other Drugs

or, 5k of new bf harry

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - yacht parties are cool and all, but harry really just wants to spend more time with his girl

warnings - alcohol (have I even written a fic where both mc’s are sober the whole time yet lmao), light sexy stuff (lil bit of ch*king k*nk if you squint), swearing probably, harry being a little shit, fluff to the maxxxxx

notes - good lord, this fic has been the absolute death of me. I stg, murphy’s law is real. anyways, the driving home scene is completely inspired by real life events that once made me swoon, but now I am lonely and so so tired so pls be nice to me thx much love <3

“Hold still!”

Harry whined and craned his neck away from his girlfriend’s hand, but he wasn’t able to go far with his back flush against the car door. “No baby, we’re already late!”

“But you’ve got jam on you!” Y/N cried. She reached her fingers up to rub the reddish marks off of his face, but, once again, he turned his head away like a stubborn child. “And we wouldn’t have been late if you hadn’t spent two hours combing your hair.”

“S not jam, it’s lipstick,” He insisted, deliberately ignoring her second (valid) point.

“Whatever. It’s on your cheek.”

Y/N made one final attempt to clean him up, but this time, he managed to escape the circle of her arms. He ran backwards toward the dock, taunting her playfully as he went, “Come on, baby!”

“Harry!” Given no other choice, she frantically pushed the lock button on the car key and chased after her child—er, boyfriend. She winced as her high heels hit the asphalt, feet aching against the gold sandals already. He’d slowed down a little to give her a break, but she was still panting as she yelled, “You can’t go to a fancy yacht party with lipstick on your face!”

He finally stopped running—thank God, because they were right in front of the ship and the last thing Y/N needed was to embarrass herself (or rather, be embarrassed by her man-child boyfriend) within sight of all the famous people that would surely be onboard already.

“But I like it.” He pouted as she reached him, entwining his fingers with hers before she could use them to try to scrub his face again.

Before she could reply, a familiar Irish accent boomed over the loud purring of the boat’s engine, “Harry! Y/N!”

Y/N really hoped someone was keeping an eye on Niall tonight. It was barely dusk and he already looked a little too buzzed to be leaning over the railing on the top deck. She craned her neck up to look at him, giggling to herself at the flush in his cheeks and the blonde mess on top of his head.

“Welcome abooaaard!” He waved far more aggressively than was necessary.

“Happy birthday, Niall!” Y/N yelled back at him, blocking the bright sun with one hand—a hand she discreetly wrestled out of Harry’s.

Harry, too, looked upward and was squinting into the sky. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon, and soon the evening would be hanging behind the silvery moon. In the mean time, the sky was bright and painted with delicate strokes of soft pink and peachy orange.

While Harry waved back at his friend, Y/N took advantage of the distraction—and his exposed cheek.

Without warning, she hurled her hand up to his face and swiped at the pink mark as hard as she could.

“Hey!” Harry whipped his head back to her, mock hurt written all over his face.

Y/N flashed him a cheeky, victorious smile. “Got it!”

September in south Florida was as hot and humid as summer anywhere else. Even out at sea, with the cool ocean wind surging throughout the top deck of the yacht, it was plenty warm enough for the guests to enjoy the outdoors.

“H, can you hold my phone and keys in your pocket?”

Harry was standing awkwardly near the railing of the boat, fiddling absently with the plume of lace and chiffon on his black top. He still had a faint reddish mark on his cheek (she wasn’t sure if it was leftover lipstick or just irritated from her rubbing at it) that Y/N, despite the turmoil that had ensued over it, found very endearing. She always thought he was handsome. She had since the first day they met four months earlier. But tonight, he was positively glowing. He shined in the fabulous black number, his skin further brightened by the setting sun and the utter joy coursing through him (the entire flute of champagne he’d already downed certainly didn’t hurt, either).

He took the phone and keys from her while she admired him, happy to help her but not without a smart remark: “You should’ve worn the dress with the pockets, love,” he chastised her playfully, a smirk dressing his berry lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You said you liked the pink on me!”

Choosing her dress for the night had been an ordeal that rivaled even Harry’s complicated hair routine. She’d originally chosen a black long sleeved one with pockets that was comfortable and appropriate and matched Harry’s own all-black ensemble (which he’d had picked out for weeks). Her boyfriend rejected the black dress, pointing out that she’d be hot it in because “It’s practically summer in Miami, love.” Instead, he chose a silky pink number, midi-length and tight in all the right places with a tastefully low cowl neckline. She’d dressed it up with a few gold bracelets and a single pearl earring in her left ear that, to her satisfaction, matched Harry’s. And yeah—it didn’t have pockets, but Harry liked it and it made her feel sexy and that’s all that mattered.

Harry hummed with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah, you’re right,” His tone was innocent, almost regretful as he looked her up and down. The pink sunset behind her was highlighting her figure just right, wind rushing through her hair, exposed skin supple and tempting. Harry was mesmerized by her.

His hands moved on their own accord to gently hold her by the waist. “Your ass looks really cute in the silk…I reckon the color makes your skin glow a bit, too. And matches your makeup, and looks nice with my earring…” He continued spewing some breathy compliments at her, even after she sort of stopped listening when a waiter holding a tray of delectable looking hors d'oeuvres caught her attention.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course, honey,” she replied (mostly) honestly. He was always a mushy little sap for her, but she truly did love the way he appreciated the little things she put effort into. “Thank you for noticing those little details.”

“You’re welcome. Know ya don’ just do it f’me though,” His ring clad fingers drummed against her waist, the metal cold through the thin silky material she wore. “Love that about you.”

Y/N cracked a smile in spite of the nervous shiver washing over her at his words. She couldn’t help but notice it was already the second time he’d said that word since they’d embarked. He was treading dangerously close to the vast, uncharted l-word territory. He’s a little buzzed, she reasoned with herself, despite also knowing it was silly because he’d only had a single champagne. But then again, he was a lightweight—and judging by the way he suddenly dropped her waist to chase down a passing waitress for two more glasses, he wouldn’t be slowing down any time soon. If he told her while he was drunk, would it really count?

He returned to her side, keeping one flute for himself and presenting the other to her. “Thank you, honey,” she said, grasping the stem of it (even though she still had a half full one resting precariously on the railing behind her). It was a fitting nickname for him, she thought. She hadn’t really meant for that to become her little pet name for him, but he loved it just as much as she did. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re sweeter,” her boyfriend hummed happily, “even when you’re checking out that waiter…”

“No! I wasn’t!”

“You kinda were,” He smiled cheekily at her.

“Was not.”

“’S alright, baby. He’s handsome. You’re allowed to have a little look.” But the way he held her protectively by the hip betrayed his words.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” If that wasn’t a hint, she didn’t know what was. “I’m just hungry. He was holding bacon wrapped shrimp, I think.”

“Mmm, me too,” Harry replied, the interaction already forgotten in favor of a savory snack. He tugged on her hand so they could follow that waiter, grumbling as they padded around the crowded deck. “Niall’s a fuckin ass for not serving dinner at an evening party.”

“Oh give him a break! It’s his birthday.” she let him pull her toward the middle where more people were gathered around the bar and admiring the decor—

“Is that an ice scultpure?”

Harry was right. It was a giant clear sculpture of a guitar made entirely out of ice. People were around it, admiring the intricacies and mingling and sipping on expensive looking drinks.

“How long you bet til it melts?”

“Not before Niall accidentally knocks it over,” Y/N laughed and gestured toward the man of the hour, who indeed was stumbling over his feet while trying to maintain a conversation with a group of several strikingly beautiful looking people—models? Probably.

It was obvious that Niall hadn’t planned this for himself. The whole thing was far too elegant and classy. His drunken ramblings were entertaining, sure, but he stood out amidst the black tie formals and live R&B music floating around the large deck of the luxurious vehicle.

Harry chased down the waiter and grabbed shrimp skewers for them both while Y/N continued quietly giggling at Niall’s antics.

Minutes drifted into hours as alcohol, shrimp skewers, and joyful conversation flowed liberally about the deck. Y/N had separated herself from Harry—much to his drunken dismay—to go and mingle with some of the “famous people.” She did it all on her own, confidently striding over and striking up a conversation with anyone worthy of her attention.

“Long time no see, mate.” Mitch’s voice interrupted Harry’s inner thoughts surrounding his girlfriend. He tore his eyes away from her and turned to face his friend, who was standing with his own girlfriend beside him.

“Been busy,” Harry replied.

Sarah’s eyebrows rose as a grin spread across her cheeks. She glanced at Mitch, who wore a matching one.

“You both have been quite busy, yeah?” Sarah cocked her head toward where Y/N was, grin widening along with Harry’s eyes.

Harry hid his smile in his glass, taking a large gulp of the bubbly. “What d’ya mean?” He asked innocently.

“We saw you staring at her, buddy.”

Well, fuck. He can’t exactly deny that. He was indeed watching her as she mingled with a group of people—exceptionally beautiful people. She fit in perfectly with the models, her smile bright and dress shiny, hips swaying tantalizingly to the beat of the drums. She engaged effortlessly in what looked like an exciting conversation with A-listers and held their attention with sweeping hand gestures. Even from across the deck, he swore he could feel her joy. Light just radiated off of her and sent a gentle flutter through his belly and a heat wave through his heart.

Sarah studied him. The way his eyes twinkled and his cheeks flushed with happiness…it was obvious. “You love her.” She deadpanned.

Harry shrugged in response, a knowing smile on his face which he didn’t bother to hide this time.

“You do!” It was Mitch this time, who wrapped an arm around Sarah and looked at her with the same happy smile his friend wore.

“No comment.” A twinge of jealously bit his heart as he watched a handsome brunette lean down to whisper something in his girlfriend’s ear. He frowned instinctively, picturing the man muttering flirtatious compliments or dirty suggestions to her like he should be doing right now.

Sarah continued to watch Harry watch Y/N, unsure if he was even listening anymore. “It’s alright to admit it. Love is a beautiful thing.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Mitch, “it’s a drug!”

“Hey look!” Harry shouted a distraction, pointing somewhere behind the two of them. He spotted two waiters bringing out an impressive tiered cake swirled with white frosting and topped with those sparkling candles. “It’s time to sing for the birthday boy!”

The boat erupted in a cacophonous rendition of the birthday song as the cake was placed on top of the bar. Night had fallen over the deck, making the sparkly decorations shine blindly bright against the moonlight. Meanwhile, Niall was dancing hysterically among the crowds, even singing along to his own birthday song in a drunken spree. At the final, …to you! he performed a dramatic bow and roared, “Thank you, beautiful people!”

Applause died slowly as Niall began grabbing peoples’ faces to kiss their cheeks in thanks. Y/N looked around for Harry, quite certain that her boyfriend would be perfectly willing to accept a kiss from the birthday boy, especially when he was inebriated. Sure enough, she caught sight of him wrapped up in an embrace with the blonde, a wide smile on his face as Mitch and Sarah laughed hysterically at the interaction.

Harry accepted the cheek kiss, just as his eyes met hers over Niall’s shoulder.

“Y/N!” He screeched and broke the embrace. He started running over to her in an uncoordinated stride, limbs flailing and most definitely spilling alcohol on other peoples’ expensive clothes.

“Y/N!” he slurred, finally reaching her side, “Gimme a kissy!”

She laughed. “You just got kissies from Niall, honey.” “But I want your lipstick on me. Yeh wiped it off.” He frowned deeply, no—melodramatically as his hand cupped his own cheeks where the pink lipstick mark once was.

She called him a little baby but obliged anyways, stamping a firm lip shaped mark on one of his flushed cheeks. He grinned wildly in response and looked at her with that look in his eyes that she absolutely adored. He was looking at her like she was royalty, like she hung the moon and commanded the sea and granted miracles upon mere mortals such as himself.

“Wish I could give you one too…” Harry trailed off, eyes wandering around the room. “Maybe then all those hot models and waiters would leave you alone.”

“Aw, you jealous baby?”

He nodded shamelessly and, with a pouty look, tucked her into his arms. He pressed a series of hard kisses on her cheeks and temples, squeezing the silky pink fabric at her waist. The feeling made her heart squeeze in the most delightful way—chest tight and warm with…with love.

“Wanna go check out the lower deck?”

And Y/N hadn’t known this man too long, but it was long enough to know that he had anything but innocent intentions with his sweet request. She was still only nursing her third glass of bubbly, but Harry’s suggestive stare and wandering hands seemed to ignite the slight heat flowing through her veins into an inferno.

It engulfed them both as Y/N’s back hit the inside of the door to the lower deck bathroom.

Harry’s lips were soft and playful and sexy all at once—just like him. He trailed hot kisses down her cheeks and jaw much like he had earlier, only now there was no audience. No need to hold back. Only hot, sweet skin swathed in pink silk and black chiffon.

“You marked me already, ’s my turn.”

Just when she was feeling a little too sober, Harry’s words drenched her in the heat of desire. This was definitely a bad idea, but it didn’t sound like one when he put it like that.

His fingers slipped from her jaw and followed his lips down to her throat, enticing her with a gentle squeeze—a warning? Or a promise for later? Either way, this bathroom escapade was fucking sliced bread and she was putty in his hands.

He sucked harshly on the supple skin of her neck without warning. A gasp slips out of Y/N’s mouth and Harry’s ringed thumb pressed deeply into the center of her throat in reprimanding. His other fingers gripped the crook of her neck, just enough to make her head spin and keep her body pliant.

Meanwhile, his other hand slithered down the smooth silk to her waist, his hold on her heavy and warm. Harry’s swollen lips retracted from her bruised neck, not before pressing a few gentle pecks to the hickeys to soothe the pain.

Y/N felt dizzy with pleasure and enveloped in love. She couldn’t help but chase his lips for a few more desperate kisses as he pulled away from her neck. She suddenly wished she could admire the marks he’d left, but the glazed, hungry look in his eyes would definitely suffice. The little bathroom felt ten degrees warmer—leaving Harry looking hot and flushed and absolutely irresistible.

“You okay, baby?” Harry whispered in the tiny space between them, words slightly slurred and dipped in bliss.

Y/N nodded aggressively, letting her hands wrap around the back of his neck where his skin was hot and hair curled adorably. “Please kiss me again.”

He did as he was told, of course. His lips moved tenderly with hers and his hands trailed lower, gently caressing her waist and hips. His fingers started a course back up to her ass, this time taking the fabric of her dress with them.

Y/N’s head felt light as a feather, no thoughts besides Harry…Harry’s hands…Harry’s lips…Harry…

She curled her thighs around his hips and he responded effortlessly, hoisting her up by the backs of her thighs and pressing taut between the cold bathroom wall and his own hot chest. The temperature in the room seemed to rise impossibly then, the sounds of breathy moans and gentle sucking kisses seamlessly diffusing into the heat and surrounding them in a delightful symphony.

Y/N was thrilled by the way Harry’s tongue tasted like champagne—as sweet and plushy as always. She decided then that she would never get tired of the feeling of his mouth on hers, of the dizzying joyful feeling his lips gave her every single time.

“Harry…honey…”

“What ’s it pretty girl?”

The pet name in his raspy accent went straight to her core. She let out another shameless whine, squeezing his waist tighter with her legs.

“I need you, Harry…”

“Hm? Need what?”

She groaned—now he wanted to be a tease. After he’d gotten to give her the hickeys like he wanted.

“Harry, please.”

“‘M just messing, pretty girl. I know what you ne—“

Suddenly, a loud crash rang out in the little cabin. Y/N let out a screech and sprang away from Harry, landing awkwardly on her stiletto heels. Wide eyed, she and Harry both looked up toward the source of the sound. Muffled shouts followed, in the midst of a horrible shattering sound, like broken glass, or hail or—

“The ice sculpture!”

They were both wide eyed and panting and a little sweaty, hair tousled and lips swollen red.

“Oh shit,” There were more muffled shouts and some shuffling of feet above them. Even through the ornate ceiling of the bathroom, it was clear there was an ordeal going on up there.

Breathy pants lingered between them, and the room suddenly felt even smaller, even more swelteringly hot and stuffy. Of all things to ruin the heat of the moment…a fucking ice sculpture.

They looked at each other blankly, as if to say what the hell do we do now?

“Let’s head back up while everyone’s distracted.” It was Harry’s alcohol-induced idea, cooked up in his foggy brain.

“There’s no way we can go back to the party like this.” Y/N gestured between them—the sweaty foreheads, messy hair, skin dotted with hickeys, and most prominently, her boyfriend’s obvious arousal.

Harry sighed, glancing down at himself. “Let’s leave then.”

“What, you wanna swim home?”

Harry frowned, “Huh?”

“We’re on a fucking boat, dumbass.”

Harry looked away from her with wide eyes and burning cheeks. Right…Absently, he thought it was funny how she could go from making out with him against the wall of the bathroom, practically begging for more, to mercilessly making fun of him, all within seconds. His thoughts bled into his expression, a happy smile tugging on his lips as he thought about her and her unparalleled sex appeal and her cute laugh and her mock insults and her more and more.

And just like that, he was laughing. His wild laughter seemed to echo in the small bathroom. Despite their hot rendezvous being rudely interrupted, Y/N swore she could smell the happiness in the room—almost as poignant as the champagne on his breath.

Seconds later, she couldn’t help but join him in happy laughter.

Turns out, the fallen ice sculpture was even more of a hazard than they’d initially realized—so much so that the captain of the yacht demanded an early return to shore and a continuation of the party on land. Many patrons were disappointed by the early end to the yacht cruise, not including the birthday boy himself, who Y/N would be surprised if was still walking at this point.

As they sailed back toward the shore, Harry was nursing yet another flute of champagne while Y/N clung to him in the boat’s interior—half because she wanted to cover his erection from any passerbys, and half because she just really wanted to hold him. He’d also managed to produce a slice of cake on a porcelain plate, which he’d presumably snagged when he left her on the couch to find more alcohol.

“You look cute,” she mused at him while he chewed the forkful of cake she’d just slid into his mouth. She was sideways in his lap, bare feet rested on the arm of an expensive looking couch. She vaguely realized that this area of the boat was probably off limits for guests, but fuck it, she thought, no harm no foul.

“Hm?”

“I said, ‘you look cute.’” Y/N repeated. He really did look cute like that, with his face flushed and hair messy and a tinge of lipstick still lingering on his cheek.

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled with frosting still between his teeth, “I heard you the first time.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying. I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back!”

She gathered another forkful of cake and brought it up to his lips, “I just did.”

“Fine then,” He said, “I’ll just toss you overboard. Out of sight, out of mind.”

At that, Y/N gasped. She quickly turned her hand away and brought the cake into her own mouth, licking her lips for extra impact.

“Noooo!” He held her by the hip and dragged her even closer to him, as if she were about to get up and actually go overboard and take the cake with her. “I’m sorry baby, you’re cute, too. So cute. Like, so cute that I can’t believe you like me.”

Like? I think I more than like you.

“I can’t believe it, either.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue, dancing around in the tiny space between their lips like electricity. Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, sucking on her bottom lip as if trying to pull them out of her.

Yet again, they were interrupted. This time by a loud horn blare and the captain’s voice over the intercom. “Land, ho!”

“Finally.” Harry sighed in relief, already trying to stand up from the couch, “Can you take me home now, please.”

“We can’t just leave when the party’s still going! What about Niall?” Y/N pressed her hands against his chest to slow him down.

“Niall won’t remember a damn thing.”

She considered his words. He wasn’t wrong; Niall had already knocked over the ice sculpture, after all.

“Take a left here,”

“Here?”

“Ye—wait, no.” Harry slurred, shaking his head from the passenger seat.

But his girlfriend had already turned the wheel to the left, inevitably sending the car in the wrong direction, again.

“Shit, M’ sorry baby.” he said with a drunken giggle.

“Good lord Harry…”

She threw the car into a random driveway, grumbling as she executed a clumsy K-turn.

She could hear the cranky frown in Harry’s voice as he groaned, “You’re a shit driver.”

“Well you’re a shit navigator!” Y/N looked over and gave him a pointed look. But the look only fell on his droopy, half-open eyes. “Where the fuck do I go?”

A beat of silence passed as Harry’s head lolled around. He hummed a bit, imitating the low rumble of the car’s engine. Finally, he murmured, “Keep goin’ straight.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t reply, just turned to look at her with that mischievous drunken smile.

“Aw fuck, no. We passed it up.”

“Harry!” She couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her annoyance, his antics were amusing. “Are you sure you actually know where you live?”

“Of course I know where I live!”

Y/N sped into another middle-of-the-road U-turn, and Harry dramatically fell into her lap with a low yell.

“Slow down, you minx! Gonna get us killed!”

“You’re so dramatic, Harry. If you’d just tell me where the fuck you live!”

“Can’t remember.”

She craned her head up to ceiling, letting her own eyes fall shut as she inhaled her frustration.

“Okay, fine. It’s that blue one over there.” He gestured vaguely to the right, but it was too dark to see the colors of the houses anyways.

Y/N let out her deep breath, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

His growing smirk gave him away. After only a few seconds, his foggy brain would not allow him to contain his giggles.

“Harry!” she whined. He was always kind of silly and clingy, but the excessive alcohol made him an actual baby. He was still laying in her lap over the center console.

“Why are you like this?”

He pouted, feigning hurt. “Maybe I just wanna spend more time with you.”

Y/N’s fingers loosed on the wheel. She slowed the car to a stop against on of the curbs in the quiet neighborhood, poised under the soft light of a street lamp. Her annoyed expression softened and the familiar urge washed over her—the urge to kiss his cheeks and tell him she loved him and squeeze him tight and never let him go. How could one person be so annoying yet so fucking adorable?

She pushed his hair back (not without thinking about how he would’ve scolded her for messing it up at the beginning of the night when he had been sober, but now he was far too drunk to care) and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was definitely an awkward position and Harry couldn’t have been comfortable like that, but he didn’t seem to mind. He held her arm in both hands and snuggled into her lap as she cooed at him. “Aw, baby. You could’ve just told me.”

“But we’ve only been together for a little bit…and I don’t want ya to get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you, honey. Not even if I wanted to,” she said earnestly, continuing to stroke her fingers gently through his curls.

“Really?”

Now if that wasn’t a hint…this man was even stupider than she thought. In spite of his endearing idiocy, Y/N still could not resist the urge to just love him.

The idea that he could possibly love her back crossed her mind several times, especially in the past few weeks.

But they’d only been officially for a month and a half…was it too soon? Would she scare him off? Was there some unwritten rule of love to wait until they’d at least seen each others’ homes? Although, if she did tell him now, Harry was so drunk he may not even remember. If it went horrifically wrong, maybe she could forget it happened. (No, she definitely would not ever be able to forget if that happened, but the lie comforted her a little nonetheless). But if it went well, she’d be more confident telling him again when he was sober tomorrow. And at last, she didn’t even think she could hold the words in for another second while he was cuddling into her and kissing her arms like a baby kitten.

“I love you, Harry.”

“You do?!”

Suddenly, he seemed alarmingly sober.

“Ugh, yes. How could I not?”

He looked appalled, really. As if the idea of her loving him was absolutely insane. “Well, I annoy you, I kiss you in public, I drink too much, I spend way too much time on my hair, I’m not as handsome as that waiter…”

“And you’re pretty stupid.” Y/N interrupted with her own addition to the growing list.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am pretty dumb…But,” he paused, flipping over in her lap to look her in the eyes, “I did get one thing right.”

“What’s that?” She asked, fondly stroking his gelled hair with trembling hands.

“Falling in love with you.”

And loving him was that easy, as easy as sipping champagne and eating cake and falling overboard. She loved his flamboyance, his confidence, his kindness. She loved his silly tattoos and his bunny teeth and the little scar under his chin and the faint lipstick stain on his cheek. She loved the way they teased each other like children. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he adored her. And so, she couldn’t help but smile wide.

“Alright, let’s add you’re super cheesy to that list, too…”

thanks for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed <3

feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and highly appreciated!

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Show me yours and I’ll show you mine

Mob! Leo x fem reader

Summery: You’re a sex worker working at the infamous Red Room (R&R) brothel in New York city when you run into Leo who’s there not on business. He, somehow, takes a liking to you and your adventure ensues.

Warnings: NSFW, sex work mentions, fist fight/violence, alcohol mentions, violence mentions.

((A/N: This doesn’t have much of a plot, just a fun idea I had and I haven’t written a mob fic in so long so here ya’ go!!))

It wasn’t a slow day at Red Room, Clients had been in and out all day and it was nearing 7pm. The smell of perfume and cologne hung heavy in the air and the place was starting to get messy. During the day the brothel is mainly used for men to drink and be kept company but when the night hits, it comes alive.

Women roaming around in lingerie of every kind, singers and dancers to entertain those who are just here to escape their wives or boys trying to become men chasing down pretty women who only show interest after they flash their cash. Security is pretty tight, too. Can’t have minors getting in, as much as they try, or anyone throwing off the atmosphere with drunken brawling.

It’s a beautiful September night, the air is still warm the remnants of summer and sun beans are streaming in through the ornate glass windows. Classic, beautiful furniture covers the main room where men get to know their chosen girl before she takes them back to her room and the bar is crowded with the usuals who are just here to watch and have a good time.

You walk through the vast room, smiling and making chit chat with as many of the men as you can before picking up your drink and retiring to one of the chairs. For a busy day it was still slow for you. You adjust your thigh highs as you sit and take off your heels. A small rest wouldn’t kill you. There were all sorts in tonight including, or so you’d heard, one of the mob boys. You hadn’t laid eyes on him yet but there was a certain tension surrounding the place that only the turtle boys could create so even if you hadn’t seen him, you could feel him. They weren’t strangers to R&R, sometimes they’d bring business associates here to butter them up, buy them a girl for the night and talk business where she kissed their neck or they’d come for their own pleasure. 

You take another look around the room, most of the men were focused on Starla who was singing a blues version of “how to be a heart breaker”, her voice slightly deeper than usual and full of sensual promise and her bright red, lacy bra and panties are particularly stunning. Praying that no one will approach you for at least another 10 minutes you take a sip of your whiskey and sit back to enjoy the show- when you hear it.

From a more distant corner of the room there are raised voices and harsh words being thrown about, something that is not accepted in the Red Room. Putting down your drink, you pick up your heels in your other hand and go over to see what all the fuss is about.

“I want what I fucking paid for!” comes a voice from a heavily intoxicated man who is standing on the last step to the stairs. Cherry stand in front of him, clearly distressed and looking slightly dishevelled. You can only assume that something went wrong in the bedroom and she had to run. Bastard you thought to yourself.

“Not if you won’t wear a condom! There are fucking rules!” she bites back. She was right, R&R had very strict guidelines to keep their girls and patrons safe and condoms must be worn for any and all sexual activity as well as regular STD checks.

That’s when he finally loses his cool completely, grabbing Cherry by the hair and trying to pull her back up the stairs. You don’t know exactly what came over you but before you know what you’re doing you drop your heels and rush over, prising his hand from her hair and socking him in the jaw. His head flies back from the impact and hits the wall, ricocheting off it before he falls down cold on the stairs which is met by a round of applause from the crowd that has gathered around you both. You turn to a now crying Cherry.

“you ok? What did he do? You alright?” you ask in quick succession. 

“I-I’m-” she sobs and holds on to you, you wrap your arms around her bare waist and move her slightly to the side as the ever late security deals with the unconscious guy. You decide it’s better to get her away and instead take her outside where some of the other girls have crowded round and offer her drinks and cigarettes as well as their sympathies. They stroke her hair and comfort her so you venture back inside, leaving her in their very capable hands. 

Once back in the main room, the madame for the night walks briskly over to you with a hard expression on her face.

“And just what was that?” She half whispers

“I know right, that jerk was trying to make her go bare back even though we’re super specific that we don’t do that here” you reply

“Not that!” She snaps “That little brawl you had with him. What do you think you were doing?”

“...Defending my colleague?” you’re confused, this isn’t the first time one of the girls here has had to step up for another, it probably won’t be the last either. 

“We have to crack down on you- you girls getting into fights! It’s dangerous and irresponsible and I think you should go home for the rest of-”

You both stop when you sense a presence to your right. Looking over you come face to face with a towering figure: Leonardo.

The madame clears her throat and smiles

“Ah, Mr Leonardo! How- how may we help you?” she beams at him. You’re not sure if it’s out of respect or fear, probably a mixture of both.

“How much for this one?” He says point blank.

“Excuse me?” The madame’s jaw almost hits the floor

“How much for this one for a few hours?”

You smile and give him big doe eyes as he talks price with her and she still attempts to send you home. Eventually it’s settled and allows you to take him back to your room.

He’s silent on the walk up there even as you chat idly about how handsome he is as you usually do with clients and making sure to sway your hips extra heavily to give him a good view as you walk up ahead of him.

Once tucked inside your room, you kneel on the bed and face him.

“So, how do you want me, big guy?” you say in a low, seductive voice.

He sits in a chair by the door in the corner and lights up a cigarette which isn’t technically allowed but acceptations are always made to accommodate the mob boys so you let it slide. 

“You can cut that shit out now” he says bluntly.

“what shit?” you’re confused again

“The ‘big guy’ and ‘you’re so handsome’ practically drooling over me shit. It’s overdone and, honestly, you’re not very convincing.”

“I’ll have you know that my acting skills are top notch but if you want realness lets go. How do you wanna fuck me and how long do I have to put up with you for?”

He smiles at that

“Atta’ girl”

You both sit in silence for a few minutes as he looks over you, drinking in your form. His eyes always linger on your hips and the garter belt around your waist so you can safely assume these are your best features in his opinion. 

“What possessed you to take on that drunk guy?” he breaks the silence

“My friend was in trouble, besides, I’ve got a solid right hook and wanted an excuse to use it” you reply. He smiles again. Not to be cocky, but I think I’m winning him over you think to yourself.

He’s rented out your room for two hours and all he seems to want to do is talk. He doesn’t even get up from his chair apart from once and only then it was to look out the window as he asked you about how you ended up here. You assumed it was some kind of saviour complex, the whole “how did a nice girl like you end up in a dump like this” routine but the truth is you like the Red Room. You love the attention and praise it gets you, your family knows what you do for a living and are proud of you and you’ve made some good friends here. 

“...Besides” you continue “it’s the only place around here where it’s not impossible to make 5 grand in a night if you try hard enough. Most other places can’t say the same.”

He was decent conversation although he was reluctant to tell you anything about himself, but he listened and appeared genuinely interested in what you had to say. You even made him laugh a few times. You didn’t know the turtle boys even had a sense of humour. 

Your 2 hours with him were coming to an end and, after pouring him a final drink, you said your goodbyes, It wasn’t completely unusual for a client to simply want to talk for their time with you, but from what you’d heard the turtle boys have an insatiable appetite for women so it doesn’t quite sit right with you that he didn’t want your body. Oh well.

_________________

The next morning was your day off. You woke up before your alarm and took a few minutes to hug your pillow closer to you and breathe in the fresh morning air from the window by your head. Your apartment was modest but not dingy in the slightest, the Red Room paid well and your home reflected that to some extent although you never wanted to be flashy about it. Last night was still on your mind, the way Leo (as he had asked you to call him) looked at you was still burned into your memory. His scent and the way he raised each drink to his lips. Everything he did commanded authority and was done with such grace and composure. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted by your alarm, only, it wasn’t your alarm. 

Confused, you look at your phone and see the madame is calling. What does this old bitch want? you think before answering the call.

“Hello?” you talk into the phone, trying to hide your distaste at being bothered on one of your precious days off.

“Hi, y/n, I really hate to do this but I need to get straight to the point. You have an outcall today.” the voice replies

“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, This is my day off and I don’t do outcalls anymore. That’s been cleared with you guys for months.” the annoyance was beginning to shine through your voice. 

“Yes, I’m aware, but special allowances have to be made when certain clientele....Desire your company...”

“Who the fuck do you think is special enough to get me out of bed right now?” you hiss into the phone

“Leonardo...”

You didn’t hear the rest of her sentence as you take a second to let that sink in. Half of you was pissed as hell that these rich boys get whatever they want and whoever they want just because they practically run the town through fear, but another small part of you was...Flattered. 

“What time and where?” you ask

The madame gives you all the information and you hurry out of bed to get showered and ready. You only had an hour and a half to make yourself look presentable and actually get half way across town to his mansion. 

Five minutes before you need to be out of the door, you take a second to admire yourself in the mirror. You had done a good job with your cat eye makeup and you were pretty sure your have him eating out of your hand with the little baby pink slip dress you were wearing. Underneath was another garter belt, thigh highs and a small heel. You could have gone bigger considering you were only average height and Leo must have been about 6′7 at least but you decided a small heel worked better with the aesthetic you were cultivating. 

____________________

The uber pulled up the the enormous house that towered in front of you, driving carefully between the ornate and ancient statues that seemed the guard the entrance to the driveway. Opening the door and stepping out, the almost overwhelming aroma of roses filled your nose from the thickets by the front door. Everything was beautiful and clearly meticulously designed and placed. You felt your heart drop. What the fuck do I have to offer this guy who has everything? You swallow the lump in your throat and go to ring the door bell. 

A small, round man dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat answers the door and smiles at you as if you ask why you’re here. Running a hand through your hair in an attempt to compose yourself (you’re a professional after all) you use your most confident voice to say:

“I’m y/n, and I’m here for Leonardo. He should be expecting me”

Realisation washes over the man’s face as he asks you to “please come in” and you take a seat in the foyer. You take a second to look around. The entrance hall is magnificent, a huge chandelier hangs above you with crystals or even diamonds (you weren’t sure but they were rich enough to afford such luxuries) casting glorious rainbows around the room as the light from the windows shines through it. The furniture had to be custom made, you’d never seen anything like it before and in the centre of the foyer is a round table with the most beautiful vase you’d ever seen and a carefully constructed bouquet of flowers sitting in it. You’d started to realise that maybe you were in too deep, but there was no getting out now.

It’s not long before you here footsteps coming down the stairs behind you. Leo and his older, and somehow taller, brother were walking down and seemed to be deep in conversation. They were still a little too far away to hear and they spoke in hushed voices but you could make out the purple suited one say

“She’s not talking” in a feverish voice to which Leo replied

“That’s not my problem right now, deal with her before I deal with you!”

it sounded serious.

Once at the bottom of the staircase and spotting you, he posture relaxes a little and he puts on that charming smile which reminds you that you need to do the same. That’s what he’s paying for, but he has such beautiful deep blue eyes that it;s difficult to not get distracted by them. He wore a black suit with very thing white lines going down it and a baby blue handkerchief in the breast pocket, his signature colour. He looked to die for.

He approaches and greets you with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek while telling you how beautiful you look. What a silver tongue he has. 

He takes you on a tour of the house and garden, it’s clear that he’s only doing this as a formality, to get you comfortable around him and it isn’t to brag. He almost seems indifferent about his extreme wealth. There were a few rooms with heavy locks on the doors and he didn’t show you into those or one entire wing of the house; telling you that was under construction. You saw Donatello go through to that area, though but, you didn’t want to rock the boat by asking questions.

Eventually he took you out to the patio, it was stunning. More roses and other potted flower stood all around and the table was set with silver cutlery and beautiful wine glasses. He pulled a chair out for you to sit, like a true gentleman.

As waiters came and went, bringing you both lavish meals and more wine, you talked for hours. Well...You talked. He mainly listened and asked questions. You couldn’t help but feel entirely comfortable around him, something about his presence was so non-judgemental and sincere that you felt you could answer everything honestly and not put up a front like you usually would on other “dates”. The only trouble around when you spoke next.

“So I’m been rattling on for ages. Tell me about you. What do you like to do in your spare time? Do you like living with your brothers? Where did you grow up?”

That last question seemed to hit a nerve as he looked as if he winced slightly  at it. He didn’t answer.

You put your hand on his

“Did you hear me?”

He pulled his hand away and looked you in the eyes

“I didn’t pay you to interrogate me. You’re here to sit and look pretty, not open your fucking mouth”

You were stunned. This sudden turn seemed to come from nowhere and that’s when you felt the anger rise up in you. You’d never been one to hold your tongue and you weren’t going to start now- consequences be damned.

“Well excuse the fuck me!” you began “Why is it that every guy feels so entitled to my life but so unwilling to tell me anything about their own? Oh yeah! Maybe it’s because they’re so boring an insignificant in this world that they have to pay a woman to come talk to their sorry ass because no one would do it for free. I thought you were different but it’s all for show, isn’t it? The house, the cars, the money... Nothing behind that, just another pitiful, sad little man who has to pay for a quick fuck. I’m outta here”

You throw your napkin down on the plate and walk away. You almost make it to the front door when a hand grips your wrist, turning you to face them.

Leo looks sorry for himself. It’s clear he knows the magnitude to which he’s messed up but he doesn’t say anything right away.

“Well?” you say impatiently? “Look, you wanted me here. I just go where the money takes me but for a second I thought there might actually be some kind of connection. You want a real date, then you have to tell me about yourself at least a little. That’s what real people do. But if you’re just going to be a giant douche with no respect, I’m leaving.”

“It’s not a happy story” he finally says through gritted teeth, hand still firmly around your wrist. “But if you want to hear about it, follow me”

He takes you upstairs a through a few more hallways until you reach what must be his room. It’s just as beautifully designed as the rest of the house but with a few more personal touches. As opposed to the slightly Italian looking architecture and design of the rest of the house, his room has katanas hung up on the wall and a small nook in the corner of the room where a tea maker sits. It’s more homely than the rest of the place. More his own.

He sits you down on the bed and slowly begins to explain.

He doesn’t go into too much detail, you imagine that would be too painful for him.He tells you how he was found in a sewer with his brothers and then made to wear chains and perform for sick crowds of smiling a grimacing humans and how he hated them. He mentioned the beatings and the torture, the hunger he felt everyday. He spoke on the anger his father harboured and how they would dream of a revenge so bloody and raw that he hoped god would look away while they did it. He told you about their escape and how it was the first time he’d know the touch of a human that hadn’t left a scar. It was all horrific and you couldn’t believe he survived that.

“...We still don’t know what Mikey saw that night but whatever it was, he didn’t talk for three weeks and now he’s...Well, now he’s the new Mikey. I don’t talk about it because who would want to know? And I don’t want pity, I don’t want your sympathy just because ‘boo hoo, he had a tough childhood’ ”

You place your hand on his cheek and turn his face towards you, he didn’t look at you the entire time he spoke.

“I don’t pity you” You began “I admire you. Going through all that and still being a functional person? That takes a strength I couldn’t muster”

You lean in to kiss him on the cheek, he turns his head and kisses you on the lips slowly, as if to savour every second of it. You hands go to his face and he lightly grips the back of your neck as the kiss intensifies. You lie back and he takes his place on top of you, between your legs and he trails one hand up your thigh to your hip, going just underneath your now bunched up dress.

He begins to kiss down your jaw line and towards your neck and your breath hitches in your throat at the pressure of his lips on your skin. His attention turns to your cleavage, he looks up at you as if you ask for permission and you nod before his head delves between your breasts, kissing and lapping at your tender flesh. You roll your head back and begin to pant slightly. The way he’s so attentive and gentle yet composed and in control is a nice contrast that few men can do successfully. 

Cupping one of your breasts as he kisses it, you put your hand under his chin to return his mouth to yours and your tongues swirl together in ecstasy as you moan into his mouth.You can feel him hardening through his tailored trousers. Pulling back, you begin to unbutton his shirt as he takes off his blazer before reaching down between the two of you and cupping his bulge through his clothes. He almost growls at that and takes the top of your dress in his hands, ripping it down the middle. You look up at him wide eyed and he simply smiles and whispers

“I’ll buy you ten new ones”

You can’t see too well in the room as the sun is beginning to set but you can still make out how toned and muscular his chest is even in the half light. You run your fingers over his abs as he pushes up your dress and pulls down your underwear. Leo begins to kiss down your inner thighs, nipping gently as he gets closer to your sex

“No” you say suddenly. He stops immediately and looks at you “I want you. I just wanna feel you”

Pushing himself up onto his knees, still between your open legs, he undoes his belt, unzips him pants and pulls them down. His hard, thick cock bouncing free from its previous restraints. He takes a quick second to reach into his bedside draw and pull out a condom that he puts on with ease. He leans down and puts one hand firmly on the bed next to your head and with the other lines himself up at your already soaked entrance. You ready yourself for whats about to come, he’s bigger than your usual clients. He slowly pushes himself inside you and you gasp at the pleasurable agony of how torturous it is. Eventually he bottoms out and kisses you on the lips before looking into your eyes.

“are you ready?” He asks, you nod in return

His hips start at a slow but hard pace, obviously warming you up for whats to come. He nibbles at your ear and his hand becomes entangled in your hair, pulling it lightly as if to test the waters of how you feel about that. The more you moan the faster and harder he goes while whispering how much of a good girl you are in your ear and telling you how you take him so well.

All you can do is breathlessly moan and beg him not to stop, he looks into your eyes with a devilish mischief and says

“Stop? We’re only just starting”

He pulls out and flips you onto your front, pulling your hips up to meet his and enters you again from behind. He grabs one of your arms and pulls it behind your back, gripping it there to stay and place and with the other he gathers up the lengths of your hair and pulls so that you’re facing forwards. His pace is punishing and your eyes begin to tear up from just how mind blowing he is. Occasionally he would let go of your arm to give you a quick, sharp slap on the ass or to caress your hips a little but eventually he would always grip your wrist again, keeping it in place.

His pace begins to slow and he looks down at himself sliding in and out of you.

“Baby, you’re being so good. Look how well you’re taking me. Such an angel” he coos 

“I- I can’t take much more” you whisper but he hears and chuckles to himself. Letting go of your arm his hand slides between your thighs and begins to play with your clit, each circle he rubs is in time with his thrusts and it’s driving you crazy.

“Leo, Leo! I-” you can’t take anymore as a full body orgasm rolls through you and you almost collapse if it weren’t for his arms holding you up. One more smack on your ass and a few more thrusts and you can tell he’s almost at his own release.

“Fuck baby” He purrs and he explodes inside of you before leaning down the kiss the centre of your back. He gentle places you down on the bed so that you don’t just falls that way and quickly goes to dispose of the condom.

You get under the sheets of the bed, still panting slightly and a thin mist of sweat is lining your forehead. Leo gets into bed beside you in the now dark room and you push yourself closer to him as he wraps an arm around you. You lean in and close your eyes against his chest. Sex always made you sleepy, well, good sex did. He looks down at you, kisses your hair and whispers

“You’re gonna need that sleep. I just know I’ll need to have you again in the morning”

You smile against his skin as he rubs small circles on your back as you drift off. The last thing you remember is him whispering, and you’re not sure if it was to you or himself

“It felt good to finally tell someone all that shit. I’m glad you’re here”

Feeling appreciated and satisfied you let sleep take you, only left to dream about what pleasures the morning had waiting for you.

The end

[kjack89]

E studying late in the library, R as the late-night security guard

The only sound that came from the far corner of the second floor of the library was the steady, and occasionally emphatic, clacking of laptop keys as Enjolras hunched over his laptop. He only paused to grab a sip of coffee or swipe a notification from Twitter off of his phone screen, and as the time crept past midnight, he showed no sign of slowing down.

At least, he showed no sign until, without warning, the lights turned off.

Enjolras looked up, his face lit only by his laptop screen. “Hello?” he called, but no one answered. “Is anyone there?”

Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras glanced at first the time on his phone screen and then at the document he was working on, which was no closer to being done than it had been when he had started working on it some two hours prior, and he groaned. “God damnit,” he sighed, standing up and grabbing his phone and, after only a moment of hesitation, his coffee.

He made his way to the stairs, guided by the dim glow of the exit sign. Luckily, the lights were on in the stairwell, and Enjolras made his way to the ground floor. The lights were also off on the first floor, and Enjolras scowled before catching sight of a light from an office behind the circulation desk.

Enjolras stalked over and rapped his knuckles against the desk. “Hello?” he called, peering into the office. There was a man in there, lounging in his chair, and Enjolras raised his voice. “Excuse me?” The man did not look up and Enjolras scowled in irritation before practically bellowing, “Excuse me!”

The man startled upright, blinking owlishly through the window at Enjolras before standing and making his way to the office door. “Can I help you?” he asked mildly, which caused Enjolras’s blood pressure to skyrocket.

“Someone turned the lights off,” he said stiffly.

The man raised one dark eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “On the second floor,” he said. “Someone turned the lights off.”

Leaning casually against the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest – Enjolras tried not to stare at how his t-shirt stretched across his chest as he did – the man then had the audacity to smile at him. “I’m sure they did.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, tearing his eyes away from the tattoo on the man’s bicep. “Only, I’m trying to get some work done and that normally requires, y’know, light.”

The man nodded. “One might think.”

Enjolras counted to five in his head to try and stop from yelling. “Are you going to turn the lights back on?”

The man tugged at the collar of his university t-shirt as he considered it. “No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m not going to turn the lights back on.”

Enjolras stared at him, his mouth hanging open, before drawing himself up to glare at him. “And why the hell not?” he demanded.

The man shrugged. “Library closed at midnight.”

Enjolras blinked. “Since when?”

“Since we’re operating under summer break hours,” the man told him, sounding far too amused, and Enjolras scowled again.

“It’s May.”

The man smiled lazily at him. “Your grasp of the calendar year notwithstanding, the semester’s over, so the library is no longer open 24/7.”

Enjolras tried very hard not to seethe. “So you’re kicking me out.”

The man shrugged again. “I mean, I’m not gonna bodily remove you from the building or something, but yeah, I am gonna ask you nicely to leave, and if you refuse, I’ll probably have to call campus security.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “You’re not campus security?”

“I’m library security,” the man corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Enjolras asked sourly.

“Slightly less fascist,” the man said cheerfully, and Enjolras almost smiled. Keyword being almost. “Also I’m a student, and mostly I’m here to make sure folks swipe their IDs when they come in and to stop folks from walking out with books they haven’t checked out.”

Enjolras cocked his head. “And what’s the punishment for that?”

“Normally me escorting them to the checkout counter so that they can check them out.”

Enjolras huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not getting the vibe that you have a lot of authority here.”

The man chuckled. “That’s because I don’t.” He hesitated before adding, “My name’s Grantaire. And you are…?”

“Not sharing my name to prevent you from sharing it with campus security,” Enjolras replied coolly.

Grantaire grinned. “That’s a mouthful, your parents must’ve really hated you.”

Enjolras smiled slightly as well. “I mean, they did, but not for that reason.”

Grantaire took a step towards him. “If I promise not to report you, will you tell me your name?”

“How about you turn the lights on the second floor back on?” Enjolras countered.

“They’re on a timer, and I don’t have the means of overriding it, so unless you want me to stand up there holding my flashlight up for you to read by…”

Enjolras smirked. “Now that is a tempting thought.”

Grantaire gave him what Enjolras imagined he thought of as a pleading look. “C’mon, tell your name. I can go through the records of ID swipes, but I’d really rather not have to take that kind of time.”

“Why do you want to know my name so badly?” Enjolras asked.

“Because I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing a lot of you this summer,” Grantaire said archly. “Besides, I like to know the name of the cute guy I’ve been flirting with for the last fifteen minutes.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to scoff, or to tell him that this wasn’t flirting, or to do any number of things to rebuff the implication, but instead, what came out was, “Enjolras.”

Grantaire blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Enjolras.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeated, a slow smile crossing his face. “Wow, your parents really did hate you.”

“Almost as much as yours,” Enjolras shot back, “naming you Grantaire.”

Grantaire laughed. “Like you said, mine did too, but not because of the name.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you work down here?”

Enjolras blinked. “What?”

“I can’t turn the lights back on upstairs, and the only lights are going to be in stairwells or around emergency exits, or here, at my desk. As comfortable as I imagine studying in the stairwell would be, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up another chair for you.”

The offer took him by surprise, and Enjolras hesitated, trying to find a good reason not to and coming up short. “Are you going to watch TV all night?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe. But I can put some headphones on if it’ll bother you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you sort of need to pay attention to the security of the building?”

“Yes, because I’m sure all of the students who have gone home for the summer are planning to break into the library,” Grantaire said dryly.

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Grantaire perked up. “So is that a yes?”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment more before jerking a nod. “Let me grab my stuff.”

Grantaire grinned. I’ll be here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Enjolras muttered, turning around to grab his things from upstairs. He knew that he should just go home, or maybe move to Starbucks or the student union, both of which he was pretty sure were still open 24/7.

But if he was being honest, he was mostly just working to have something to do while he waited for Combeferre and Courfeyrac to get back to campus. And besides, whether or not it was flirting, if Enjolras was being entirely honest, he hadn’t entirely hated the conversation he’d had with Grantaire.

Even if Grantaire was two steps away from being a fascist cop.

His mind made up, Enjolras gathering his belongings and made his way back to the circulation desk, letting himself behind the desk and joining Grantaire back in the office, where, true to his word, Grantaire had procured another chair. “Voila,” Grantaire said, grinning up at him, and Enjolras set his stuff down on the desk, glancing at the computer screen, which was paused on an advertisement.

“What are you watching?” he asked.

Grantaire glanced at the computer as if he’d completely forgotten he was watching anything. “Oh, uh, Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“Seriously?” Enjolras demanded.

“Yeah, well, it’s quite popular—”

Enjolras snorted. “Sure, it’s copaganda repackaged into a sitcom, what’s not to love?”

Grantaire whistled lowly. “Wow, you must be fun at parties.”

“I make it my business not to attend too many parties,” Enjolras retorted.

Grantaire looked amused. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the comeback you think it is.”

Enjolras had realized the same thing, and flushed slightly. “Seriously, though, don’t you understand what role shows like Brooklyn Nine-Nine or Law & Order or—”

“Or Chicago PD or NCIS or CSI when it was still airing,” Grantaire continued, nodding officiously.

Enjolras glared at him. “My point,” he said icily, “is that these shows have engendered in the American public a tacit complicity in the ever-expanding and increasing militarization of our police.”

Grantaire nodded. “They sure do.”

“You agree with me?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “That surprises you?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I mean, I was expecting even boilerplate pushback about how it’s ‘just a show’ or something like that.”

“Entertainment is as much a reflection of society as it is a tool to shape it,” Grantaire said, propping his feet up on the desk. “Only an idiot would argue against that.”

“And I’m meant to believe you’re no idiot,” Enjolras said dryly. “So then are you just...ok with the militarization of our police?”

Grantaire sighed. “Of course not.”

“Ok, so you acknowledge the role shows like this play, and you are against said role, but you’re watching it anyway?”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he said cheerfully.

Enjolras stared at him. “But...why?”

“Because I believe you can critically engage with the media you consume while also, y’know, consuming it,” Grantaire said. “Besides, it’s funny.” Enjolras shook his head slowly but Grantaire didn’t let him speak, instead patting the seat next to him invitingly. “Look, you and I can and probably will argue about this all night, but how about you sit for it? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked mildly. “I would think you of all people would be more in favor of an egalitarian seating arrangement.”

Even though Enjolras glared at him, he nonetheless sat down. “Fine,” he said stiffly. “But don’t think that this conversation is done.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’ve got all night. Are you going somewhere?”

This time, Enjolras didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[straybreeze]

GX MONTH 2021

Day 1: “Hero Signal”

We’re kicking things off with everyone’s favorite hero Judai/Jaden Yuki’s birthday! Show the fluffy boi some love!

Yay, this is my very first time participating in a Tumblr event! Thank you @gxmonth for making this, I'm so excited!

I tried my best to include my OC as well, I hope it won't be too cringe lol.

Also, I would like to remark here, that I'm not a native English speaker, so if I made any grammatical errors or other mistakes, please let me know!

Word count: 2475

Pairing: implied spiritshipping

Warnings: slight angst

Happy, happy birthday Judai.

The sun was already high on the endless blue sky, showering the small apartment room in golden light when a big, orange and round thing pushed the door open with its head. The cat made his way through the mess and straight to the bed, where his owner was still sleeping. Confuting his own respectable weight, he jumped easily into the bed and snuggled up to the sleeping boy’s side, purring loudly. The quiet snoring suddenly stopped as the boy slowly opened his deep brown eyes, his hand automatically searching for the cat’s fluffy head.

“Let me sleep, Pharaoh! Just five more minutes!” Judai pleaded and covered his eyes with his free hand.

But it had been proven to be an unacceptable answer to Pharaoh. If he was hungry, nothing was an excuse for being late for breakfast. And in fact, it was almost lunchtime.

“Meow!”

However, Judai still didn’t seem willing to move, so he had to try harder.

“Ouch! Pharaoh, I know you are hungry, but I’m not your food! Don’t eat me!” Judai moaned as he sat up reluctantly. He squinted in the vivid lights, reaching the phone on the nightstand. The screen was showing 11 AM and the date below: 31th August.

31st August. The last day of summer. And his birthday.

Judai almost forgot about his nineteenth birthday. But to be honest, this day is going to be just like any other of the past week. He had nothing to do besides sitting at home and feeding Pharaoh occasionally. There was no real difference from what he did ever since he arrived from his last journey.

In fact, he was stuck in Domino City and had to stay there until he would eventually get a phone call from Chancellor Samejima. In the past one year of his life, an incoming call from his ex-headmaster meant one thing: a new job is on the sight. Not that Judai minded that. He loved travelling around the world and solving intriguing cases with his dueling skills. He didn’t continue his studies in a college, nor joined the Pro Leagues like his other friends. No, he just did the same as in his Academia years: slacking and occasionally saving the day. That is the duty of the heroes after all.

…And at least he could be useful in something as well.

Judai spent the last two weeks in this apartment, which he and Johan were renting together. In the first days, it wasn’t so hard to stay put, but Johan went on a holiday to his family in Sweden more than a week ago. He promised that he will get home before the end of summer, yet he messaged his roommate that he had to stay for a few more days. So in the end, Judai was left alone for his birthday.

Okay, not completely alone. At least Pharaoh was there for him, he thought as he strolled out to the kitchen to find some breakfast for his hungry cat. And for himself.

One year had already passed since they graduated from Duel Academia. A lot of things happened to everyone and it appeared that nobody had the time to greet Judai on his birthday. At least none of his friends told him that they would like to see him today. No missed calls, no unread messages yet.

Have they already forgotten him?

No, that was nonsense. They might be just… busy.

Sho and Manjoume have joined the Pro Leagues right after their graduation, so they were already living their restless life just like his other pro friends, Edo and Kaiser. Well, in his Academia years Judai already got used to that Edo is as much unavailable as the Emperor of Japan himself, but it appeared that Kaiser is that kind of celebrity too. Since he more or less recovered from his heart condition, he started a Cyber Pro League along with Sho and they both attended various events actively in the country and lately overseas too. Of course, Kaiser was told that he must not overstrain himself and stress too much in general, but Judai would bet that he disregarded all of those rules anyway. Especially because he hadn’t talked to him in months, so he must be busy as hell as always.

On the other hand, as far as Judai knew the Tenjoin siblings still lived in North America – Asuka was still studying in Duel College for sure while her brother, Fubuki-san was… doing something too, he assumed? Judai hadn’t heard much of them lately, but he knew that Fubuki-san followed his younger sister to chase his dreams and become an idol abroad. Judai didn’t know much about the school system of America, so Asuka might have classes at this very moment, maybe that’s why she hasn’t called him yet.

For his younger friends, Kenzan graduated from Duel Academia this summer, while Rei is going to start her last year in October. Maybe they are both on a vacation right now, enjoying themselves on a beach or something. It was still summer anyway, Judai couldn’t blame them for that.

And oh, there was Aurora, too. She was the roommate of Edo (and maybe his stepsister as well? Or something more? Who knows. She was a mystery anyway), who befriended him less than a year ago. Judai supposed she doesn’t even know that this day is his birthday.

After he gave some salmon flavored cat food and fresh water to Pharaoh, he decided to grab a bowl of cereal for breakfast and lunch at once.

As much he wanted to act like his birthday was nothing, if it was just like any other day, it made him hurt deep inside that nobody, even his closest friends haven’t paid attention to him on his day. He already got used to that his parents don’t care about him, but he thought he found a new family in his friends.

Maybe he was wrong.

But hey, it was him who abandoned them in the first place, Judai reminded himself. He was the one who left the Academia without saying goodbye and ran away from them straight to another country. He shouldn’t feel sad, because he knew that their friends would be estranged from him sooner or later. And he was the only one to blame.

Judai was so lost deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize that the milk was long overflowed the bowl and it was already spilling down the table. Pharaoh didn’t waste a single second: he leapt to the white liquid dripping from the edge of the table and licked it with such joy as if he had never tasted it before in his entire life.

“Dammit!” Judai moaned, then hastily wiped the milk off from the table and the parquet.

Oh well. He hadn’t been awake for ten whole minutes yet, but he already knew, birthday or no birthday, this was not going to be his day.

As the day continued, Judai climbed back to the bed and chose to do nothing today besides watching silly TV shows. He could have gone out at least for a walk, that’s true. He lived in Domino City after all, the city he loved the most. If you are a duelist, this is the best place for you in the entire world, especially if you live in downtown. The coast was not too far, Kaiba Land and other fun places were within easy reach too. But nothing was entertaining enough if you had no friends around.

“I feel like you’ve forgotten something,” Judai heard a familiar voice from all of a sudden. Slowly, the television screen became blurry as he was still staring at it, and a demonic shadow appeared at the end of his bed.

“Yubel,” he spoke their name aloud as he closed his eyes. “What did I forget?”

“Me,” came the obvious answer. “Why do you feel so lonely?”

“I’m not lonely. I’m just…” Judai began but then realized that the sentence had no continuation. “No, Yubel, everything’s good.”

“You sure?”

“Uh, yeah! I’m glad you’re here. It is enough for me.”

“You are a bad liar, Judai. You know that?”

“Hey, I mean it! I’m glad you are here, Yubel.”

“… I know.” Yubel smiled, gentler than it was imaginable from them. As they took a short break, their heterochromatic eyes curiously scanned the boy who was bound to them for an eternity. “But I still don’t understand, what is the matter with you?”

Judai didn’t answer their question. At least with words. He thought it was enough for an answer that he checked his phone every five minutes if someone messaged him already. But sadly, nobody had searched him so far.

It was already late afternoon when he finally heard the standard ringtone of his phone. He almost fell asleep again, and the vibrating sound made his heart pound in excitement. He immediately grabbed his phone, but when he checked the screen, he had mixed feelings.

The caller was Aurora, Edo’s roommate. And the last one who Judai thought would call him on his birthday.

“Hello, Rory! What up?” he greeted her, a soft smile unintentionally crossed his lips. But it had soon vanished when Aurora didn’t answer immediately. “Rory? Is something wrong?”

“Judai,” she spoke finally. Her usual melodic voice was trembling somewhat as if she was nervous. “I’m glad I could reach you!”

“Yeah, I mean, you could have totally called me all day! I had nothing to do, you know.” Maybe he shouldn’t have hinted things like these, but still.

“I see. Sorry, Judai, but may I ask you something?” Aurora’s voice still didn’t sound too firm.

“Sure, anytime!” Judai’s eyes sparkled at thought of the adventure. “But you’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah. I just… need to talk with someone. With you.”

“Really? Well, I’d gladly chat with you, but if you wanna talk about some… girlish thing, you know I’m not your man.”

“You will be completely fine. I wanna talk about something else, not girlish things.”

“Something happened with Edo maybe?” Judai guessed.

“Not at all! Ahw Judai, stop asking questions! I will tell you everything if I see you in person. So get ready and come!”

“Come where?”

“I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance of Kaiba Land in fifteen minutes.”

“Why there? You’re not even a duelist—„

“See you later, Judai!”

Before Judai could remark that he may not be there in fifteen minutes, Aurora had already hung up the phone. Surely, she became weirder and weirder. Maybe it was Edo who was a bad influence on her.

When Judai arrived at the said place, he was nearly jumping out of his skin. He was curious about what Aurora wanted to talk to him about, and at the same time, he was glad that he finally had a reason to leave the apartment.

Though it was still a bit unexpected that he would spend his birthday with Aurora, but why not? They were friends after all. He should have thought about her sooner.

“Judai!” Aurora shouted and waved him from the distance.

As he came closer, Aurora silently turned around and headed into the Park. It was almost sunset, the monstrous structures of Kaiba Land were glowing in orange.

“Okay, would you tell me now what are we doing here?” Judai asked while he barely could keep up with her.

“You will see, I promise!”

“Come on, Rory!”

“No worries, we are almost there!”

And that was all she told him, no matter how hard he tried to get more information. But the sparkle of hope ignited in his heart, that something bigger was standing behind this weird invitation.

Kaiba Land was slowly emptied out as the closing hour was coming, so they didn’t meet too many people. Especially as they got deeper and deeper into the amusement park.

They were nearby the rollercoaster when they finally stopped.

“Judai,” Aurora turned to him. “I know that this whole thing came from all of a sudden, and I’m so happy that you followed me without a question anyway.”

“Well, actually—”

“I hope you know that it means a lot to me. Not just me. To all of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Judai, you have amazing friends. And you are the best among the best for all of them.”

“Rory, I’m not sure I understa—„

“SURPRISE!!”

Shouts were coming from everywhere, and suddenly a shadow of a whole crowd appeared in the dim lights of the setting sun. Before Judai could have the time to react, a short figure stood out from them and started running towards him.

“Happy birthday, Aniki!” Sho shrieked as he bumped into Judai and embraced him closely. Shortly after, he found himself surrounded by people. Surrounded by his friends.

“Happy birthday, Judai!”

“Judai-sama! I wish the bestest birthday in the world to you!”

“Nice to see you, loser! Where the hell have you been for this long?”

“Yeah, Judai, we were all waiting for you!”

“Happy birthday, Aniki-don!”

“Damn, I missed you so much!”

Everyone was there. Asuka and Rei. Manjoume, Fubuki-san and Kenzan. Sho was still holding onto him, almost crying.

“Hehe, surprise! I came back from Sweden today just because of your big day!”

Even Johan was there. He came home finally! Judai couldn’t help, but sudden warmth flowed through his body as Johan hugged him along with everyone else. Even Manjoume was in the crew.

“Hey guys, you flatter me…”

“See, Edo? We almost missed the group hug because of you.” Another familiar voice came from the distance, and when Judai glanced up, he saw Kaiser Ryo and Edo Phoenix’s silhouettes were approaching them.

“Don’t blame me because Kaiba Seto himself wanted to talk with me. But I assume you can still join the group hug if you’re really that desperate.”

When the pros reached the crew, they greeted Judai in unison.

“Happy birthday, Judai!”

“You two…”

“In fact, these two were the masterminds for this plan,” Aurora joined the celebration too. “Happiest birthday for you!”

With suppressed tears in his eyes, Judai looked around his friends. Yeah, Aurora had right. He had the best friends in the world and now he felt terrible guilt that he had ever questioned them. Yubel were right after all, for not understanding what was his problem. Now he didn’t understand too.

“Okay, who wants some cake?”

“WAIT, we have cake?” Judai asked in shock. How the hell did they bring it to here?

“Of course! I mean you have it, Judai,” Asuka corrected him.

Before Judai could shout in happiness, his phone started ringing again. To his surprise, Chancellor Samejima called him.

“Happy birthday, Judai! Are you ready for your next adventure?”

Judai couldn’t help but smile again.

“Ready as I’ll ever be!���