#genuinely took my breath away when i opened my email to this for real

[magmethius]

let's flow together like water, 'til i can't tell you from me~ an unbelievably gorgeous commission by @buboplague <3 thank you so so much

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you possible write something more with Emily and her partner self harming? You write it so incredibly well and I find so much comfort in it, it’s insane. Maybe Emily finding out for the very first time when her partner is actively doing it? <333

Hi, anon! I'm always happy to write hurt/comfort about self-harm. :) It's my genuine hope that it brings people comfort and helps them feel less alone. Much love to you! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Doxxed

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: BIG self-harm warning!!!, cutting, blood, mentions of past familial abuse, homophobia, bigotry, use of slurs, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After you leave a comment in support of a Pride post, the conservative fanbase of the organization comes after you in full force. You can take a lot, but it's more than you can handle. And you're tempted to resort to old, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

One comment. One stupid, stupid comment. That’s all it had taken.

Don’t listen to the haters! Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈 Thanks for the support!

You’d left it thoughtlessly, carelessly even, on the Washington Nationals Instagram post for Pride. Frustrated by all the hate and homophobia in the comments, you’d left one of support. You wanted the other queer fans to know they weren’t alone, and for the social media team to know that their post meant something.

You hadn’t expected it to blow up. You hadn’t expected to be the sole target of the Nationals’ conservative fan base. The first few comments, you’d ignored:

WTH is a they?

bro, what is “they” 🙏💀😭

your an npc you cannot be talking

not a fan

I think you mean IT

the Support your dad never gave you huh?

you need to read your bible

by haters you mean 95% of the population?

So, they’d found your profile. They’d seen your pronouns listed as she/they. Your page was private, they shouldn’t have access to anything else. You took deep breaths, turning off your Instagram notifications, trying your best to ignore the red notification alerts climbing into the hundreds, then the thousands.

But the first phone call? That had taken you off guard. It was an unknown number. You shouldn’t even have picked up.

“Hello?” you’d said, so innocent, so unprepared.

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she…”

“Do you mean they!? You fucking dyke. Bet your daddy diddled you when you were little, huh? That’s why you’re so fucked up now!? I could fix that real quick. You just need a real dick shoved in you. Where do you live, baby? We can arrange that! You’re disgusting. You need some real cock in your life.”

It was so aggressive, so vulgar, so quick and angry. You couldn’t have gotten a word in if you’d tried. You hung up, shocked, silent. You were used to homophobia. You were used to hate and bigotry. You’d grown up in a place where people had called you a dyke on the streets, where churchgoers pulled you aside in the grocery store to pray over your “lifestyle.” Your parents had hated you long before you came out of the closet, so their revulsion wasn’t a surprise and it didn’t hurt, not any more than they’d already hurt you.

But you were so far away from where you’d come from, and you were so used to feeling safe here. You had Emily and you had the BAU and you were, generally speaking, free to walk around and live your life as your full, truest self without fear. The fact that this phone call, the hatred that came with it, had invaded your home, your safe space–it shook you. You were physically shaken.

But the calls kept coming. Again and again. Nonstop. So many they overlapped one another. So many that your voicemail box was full. And then the emails started. You knew you shouldn’t read them, shouldn’t listen to the voicemails, shouldn’t open up Instagram and scroll through the hateful comments. But you couldn’t stop yourself. And everything you read made you feel lower. You could handle a lot of hate, but this was past your threshold. It was the comments about your family that got to you the most. How did they know!? How did they know where to hit you the hardest? Where you were already weak and wounded and it wouldn’t take much to break you?

Emily was away on a case with the BAU. You wished she was here. You’d feel better if she was with you. More solid, less affected. Somehow, the bigotry never got to Emily, not like it got to you. You knew if she was here, she’d hold you, she’d set up some sort of fancy FBI phone trace and figure out who was calling you, she’d shut down your Instagram or take your phone from you so that you wouldn't be able to read the comments. She’d tell you she loved you, that you were beautiful, perfect, exceptional. She’d tell you that what these people said about you, how they made you feel, was not real, was not who you were. She’d remind you that who your dad thought you were, how he’d treated you, what he’d done to you–that wasn’t you either. That you were hers and you were your own. You were brave and strong and beautiful. But she wasn’t here to tell you any of that, and somehow telling yourself those things didn’t carry the same weight. By the time you fell asleep that night, you were in a spiral of such self-hatred, such hopelessness, such unending anxiety at each buzz of your phone–you hadn’t felt this low since college.

When you woke up the next morning–a Saturday–you turned off your phone, determined not to let the haters get to you, to take control of the day, of your emotions. You meditated. You listened to your favorite music. You made yourself some breakfast.

You stepped outside to go on a walk, knowing that fresh air and movement would do you good, keep you from spiraling further. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you turned to shut the door behind you. Spray-painted in angry red over the door frame of your townhouse was FAGS BURN IN HELL.

You went back inside and slammed the door behind you, trying not to cry. Too much. It was all too much. They had your socials. They had your email. They had your phone number. And now they knew where you lived. Every bit of safety and security you’d worked so hard to build here seemed to be crumbling around you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

And you knew then, like you were watching a film of yourself, watching something that had already happened, that you would go to the bathroom. You would take out a fresh razor blade, and you would drag it across the skin of your forearm. That you would bleed, and the blood would be the tears you didn’t let yourself cry. Just like it had been all those years ago, when you hid from your dad in the bathroom. Like it was in college when you figured out you were gay and hated yourself for it. Like it had been when your dad had died and you’d gone to his funeral and you’d lied and told Emily the wounds were from the barn cat scratching you.

It was magnetic, inevitable almost. The more you fought, the more you hated yourself for not being able to resist, which only made you crave the sharpness more. You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and wondered at how easy it was for everything to fall apart around you. The self-confidence, the security, the life you’d spent years, decades even, building, it all seemed to be crumbling. From one stupid comment.

You held the blade to your arm, a little shaky, knowing that once you did it, you wouldn’t be able to take it back. The line of blood was familiar, almost a relief, the pain an old friend, one that you’d kept away for so, so long. You hated yourself for doing it. You hated yourself for enjoying it. But you enjoyed the hating, too.

So focused were you on the lines, the series of parallels and perpendiculars you were carving lightly into yourself, that you didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t hear Emily call your name, voice dripping with concern having seen the angry message. You didn’t notice her at all until she was at the bathroom door, eyes wide and panicked, frozen. Before you could react, she’d lunged forward, grabbed your hand, and squeezed, forcing you to drop the razor blade. Her voice came to you as if through water, blurry and hazed and distant, as she wrapped your bloody arm in a towel.

“Honey, stop, stop!!” she called, frantic and shaky. “What are you doing!?”

The moment you made eye contact with her–and saw how scared you’d made her–you broke. Tears streamed down your face and you choked back sobs, sinking to the bathroom floor. Emily lowered herself with you, making sure to keep your arm tightly wrapped, caressing your face with her free hand.

“Hey,” she cooed. “It’s okay. What’s going on? Can you tell me? Please talk to me, baby. Please.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to catch your breath or find your voice. You simply buried your head in the crook of her neck, trying to regain some semblance of security.

Emily rubbed your back, resting her chin on your head. “Is it about the writing on the door?”

You nodded, sucking in a shaky breath.

“I’ll get someone to take care of it, okay? But… honey, why did that make you… why did you want to… hurt yourself?”

“It’s not just the door,” you confided, sniffling. “It’s the phone calls and the emails and the fucking Instagram comments.”

“Wh–?” Emily sounded deeply confused, even as she ran her fingers through your hair, placed kisses at the top of your head.

“I left one comment, Em, on some stupid fucking baseball Pride post to say, like, Happy Pride! Thanks for not being bigots! And all the fucking bigots in DC came out of the woodwork to dox me.”

Emily exhaled, mind racing. First, she had to keep you safe from yourself. Then she needed to keep you and her and your home physically safe. Then she needed to get your digital safety under control. Emily was a fixer at heart. And she was determined to make you feel safe again.

“And why the fuck do they keep bringing up my dad!?” You choked out another sob.

Understanding flooded through Emily, and she held you a little tighter, a little closer. It was your dad. That’s what had really triggered you. You were used to homophobia. But you hated being reminded of your dad. Emily rubbed her thumb along the bloodied towel around your forearm, a realization sinking in, one that broke her heart.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt yourself,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. It devastated her. How could she protect you from yourself? From your past? She couldn’t go back and change it, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

You could hear the heartbreak in her voice, and guilt flooded into all the hurt places inside you, all the places the blood had left empty. You buried your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Em,” you cried, shrinking into yourself. “I’m so sorry.”

But the more you tried to squirm away, the harder she held you. “Hey,” she soothed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve been through things that make you want to hurt yourself.”

Her voice broke, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, your instinct to comfort her kicking in. She was shaking, you realized. She was scared.

“But, baby, please don’t shut me out,” she continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Just… I don’t… I don’t know how to protect you from you.”

You sat up and looked at Emily, her eyes now swimming with tears. “Emily,” you said softly, wiping her eyes with your thumbs. “That’s not your job.”

“It is my job,” she insisted. “It’s always my job to keep you safe.”

You exhaled shakily, lifting your arm to wet a rag at the sink, and handing it to Emily, uncovering the angry red cuts on your arm. You pulled gauze and medical tape out of the bottom cabinet drawer and set those next to you.

“Here,” you said, extending your arm, knowing that Emily would feel better with something tangible to do to help you.

She dabbed at your arm with the rag, her fingers gentle and cool against your skin.

“It’s not something you can fix, Em,” you told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she focused on your wounds, eyes swimming. “I need to go back to therapy.”

She nodded, deep in thought, smoothing the gauze over your wound, and carefully taping it in place.

“But you could get Penelope to shut down the internet trolls?” you suggested, venturing a smile. Your heart wasn’t in it yet, but you knew that with Emily here, it would be soon.

Emily ran her fingers over your arm, placing a small kiss on the bandages. She smiled at you, sad and determined and angry and scared, and squeezed your hand. “Oh, I will fucking end the trolls. Starting with the asshole who fucked up our door. Bet that idiot’s not expecting the FBI to come knocking.”

You giggled, and she pressed her forehead to yours and, for just a moment, everything was okay.

You knew that Emily couldn’t make you better. She wasn’t magic. And even the best relationships couldn’t take away all the hurt of the past. But Emily made it easier for you to make yourself better. She made you want to do the work. And, for that–and for so many other reasons–you’d love her forever.

[littlelioncub43]

did dennis ever get to fuck the reader’s boobs like he was promised? i feel like he would genuinely pass away right then and there if she did thinking she was only saying that in the heat of the moment 😰

Hehehehehhehehhe— I'll write it right here right now 😈

Also, if you guys know of any other Dennis gifs, send them my way 🥺

A Promise is a Promise

Summary: You follow through on a promise that Dennis hadn't taken seriously. You show him that you like to keep your word.

Pairing: Sub!Dennis Baker x Soft dom!Female!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), oral sex (m receiving), tit fucking, making out, the first appearance of brat!Dennis, fluff, idiots in love, Dennis being a workaholic, reader being a wonderful person (because you're a wonderful person), and dom/sub dynamics.

Word count: No idea, I wrote this on my phone, any grammatical and spelling errors are my own

A/N: Here it is! I'd like to thank this nonnie for remembering that I mentioned titty fucking in my first Dennis fic 🥺🤧 like you remembered that little detail??? You remembered???? Took my heart and put it in your pocket. So! I dedicate this fic to you, Nonnie— whoever you are. 💖

Kisses 💋

—K

Dennis's eyes blurred for what felt like the hundredth time as he stared at what he swears was the hundredth email asking for help logging into the work data base. He groaned and tossed his glasses on to his desk, rubbing his eyes as he slouches back in his office chair.

"Fuuuuucking hell," he grumbled to himself as he tried to ease the headache that was building behind his eyes. He was thankful he was working from home today, he would be running up the walls if he was actually at work, but he felt a twinge of guilt strum in his chest since he left you alone for a good chunk of the day.

You were spending the weekend with him, and Dennis couldn't be happier. Waking up to you bundled up in his bed looking like an actual angel felt like a dream. He had to touch you to make sure you were real, and when you nuzzled sleepily into his palm on your cheek, he nearly melted.

"Knock knock," you called politely from the doorway. You smiled softly when Dennis' eyes snapped open. "It's late, Den, you should probably get ready for bed."

"Mm," he hummed and scratched the back of his neck as you approached him, "I got a handful of emails to reply to then, I'll be done for today."

You stood between his thighs when he turned to face you, his hands hesitating once before resting on the slope of your hips. Carding your hands through his hair, you gaze down at your shy boyfriend, you can see how tired he is, how his eyes can't seem to focus, and the bloodshot veins that throb in agitation.

"How many more?" You ask softly, smirking when he glances down with a shy smile.

"28," he admits. You chuckle and tilt his head back so he can look at you. Slowly, you plant a kiss on his forehead, cradling his head in your hands tenderly. Dennis can't help but shut his eyes.

"How many more?" You ask again. Dennis blushes, his eyes still shut.

"28," he repeats. You dip your lips lower, kissing the right corner of his mouth, his head tilting to chase your lips but you evade him expertly.

"How many?" You repeat, your voice smoother and sultry. Dennis takes a shaky breath.

"20," he whispers, his grip on your sleeping shorts tightening. Anticipation coats the air heavily as your lips ghost over his to the other side of his mouth, pressing a teasing kiss.

"Now?" You whisper, your hand falling from his face to slide down the front of his chiseled body. Dennis gasps, a shiver zipping up his spine when your hand goes lower and lower. He lets out a choked moan when you grasp his hard cock through his slacks. "I asked you a question, Den."

"F-Fuck," he moans under his breath, his forehead resting against yours. Part of him wants to cave immediately, but some part of him wants to keep the game going. His eyes open, the fire behind them is strong and playful — defiant. "15."

His answer surprises you, to say the least. You smirk proudly at him, rewarding him with a firm squeeze to his throbbing cock. You loved when he was like this, it meant you could be a little rougher with him— which he loved.

The hand still in his hair pulls his head back, your grip a little tighter than normal. The sting at his scalp makes Dennis groan, a little louder than intended but he couldn't help it. Once his neck is exposed, your sinful lips descend upon the pristine skin. Nipping and biting, you leave your mark on his throat, paying special attention to the spot on his jaw that sends his hips rutting up into your hand.

"How many?" You growl softly in his ear.

"15," he growls back without hesitating. He smiled to himself for being able to respond, his victory was short lived before he was gasping your name. Your hand on his dick stroked him through his slacks, the heel of your palm giving him just the right amount of pleasure to have him burning for more. "Oh fuck..."

"My, you're being a brat today, aren't you, Den?" You muse playfully in his ear, chuckling along with him at his stubbornness. "But I know how to get what I want from you. I always get what I want, Den, you know that."

He did.

"You're going to stop working," your tender lips brush against the shell of his ear as you speak and nearly break his resolve, Dennis is already formulating a sassy response, "and you're going to fuck my tits. Just like I promised."

Well, fuck.

Dennis' brain short-circuits when he hears you. He remembers your promise clear as day, but he thought you were only saying that to make him cum. Any smart comment or response dies on his tongue, his mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows thickly and tries to speak but merely whimpers in response. You fight back a giggle, and pull back to look down at your broken sweetheart. He looks up at you with wide, lust-filled eyes, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your braless breasts, his mouth hung open as he pants heavily, his cheeks tinted pink with excitement.

"Do you want that, baby?" You coo as you swipe your thumb along his bottom lip, something he loves. A broken moan and frantic nods serve as his answer. You catch his moan in your mouth as you slam your lips on his in a desperate kiss. His lips move in tandem with yours, moaning effortlessly as your tongue explores his mouth. The kiss is heated but brief, leaving Dennis aching for more, you hold him back in his seat by his neck when he chases your lips. "Take your fucking pants off, Den."

Dennis' hands work as fast as they possibly could to undo his belt and zipper. You loved watching him take his cock out, there was something so erotic about watching his hands tremble with excitement or nerves as he reveals himself to you. You're pulled from your thoughts as he shoves his pants and boxers down around his ankles.

Dennis shivers as the cool air of the room hits the heated skin of his cock. He shivers again when he feels your hungry gaze locked on his private part. It takes everything in him not to cover himself with his shirt, a part of him still wanting to hide in fear.

"Fucking hell, Dennis, you have such a pretty cock," you moan and caress his cheek. The air seems to be knocked out of his lungs.

"It-It's pretty?" He squeaks softly, looking up at you. Your soft smile and nod sends his heartbeat into a tizzy.

"Soooo fucking pretty, baby," you whisper and kiss his lips once before slowly fall to your knees, Dennis' head dipping down to follow your lips. You smile and push at his chest gently, "lean back for me, Den."

He leans back in his chair, his eyes crazed with want. You rub his inner thighs and hum appreciatively to yourself, your eyes drink in his dick. You traced each vein on his shaft with your eyes, and your mouth watered when you saw his leaking tip with beads of precum slipping down his mushroom head.

"Prettiest fucking cock I've ever seen," you sigh, and wrap a hand around his base.

"Ah!" Dennis gasps as your lips encase his tip, your tongue swirling around his flesh to collect the small ropes of precum. His head falls back against the headrest as you suck more and more of him into your mouth. Dennis' thighs twitch with each bob of your head, you were messy when you sucked him off but holy hell you were drooling around him like you hadn't eaten in years.

"Holy shiiiit! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" Dennis shouts when you swallow his entire length, your tight throat contricting around him as you swallow again and again and again. One large hand holds the back of your head, the feeling of your nose pressing into his groin is torturous in the most divine way possible, the other braces against the bookcase behind his desk. When you pull back, Dennis whimpers, but you shush him and pull off your ribbed tank top. The chill of the room has your nipples hardened into buds, but you couldn't find it in you to care too much when he was looking at you like you created the universe.

"Oh my god, you're going to fucking kill me," he says breathlessly as you bring your bare chest to his soaked cock.

"Don't give out on me now, Baker, we haven't had our fun yet," you giggle and give him a cheeky wink before grabbing the sides of your chest. He smiles at your joke and bites his lip when he feels the plush flesh of your tits surround his member.

"Oh god, ohh fuck!" He whines, your breasts were so fucking soft he swears he's never felt anything like it. His eyes want to roll back but he manages to keep them on you, the sight of his hard cock sandwiched perfectly between your gorgeous tits was one he never wanted to forget. His legs trembled as he waited for you to move or to tell him what to do, always the good boy.

You hum appreciatively when you notice his restraint and give his tip a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss. He whimpers and leans back, trying his best to keep from blowing his load immediately.

"Go on, Den," you practically moan to him, "fuck my tits, baby."

He didn't need to be told twice.

With a shy nudge of his hips, Dennis rutted into you. His face twists and crumples as he glides through the valley of your chest with ease, his eyes switching from rolling back in his head to watching in rapture how your flesh moves with his slow thrusts perfectly.

The sounds Dennis was making were absolutely heavenly. Thin, breathy whines and moans of your name, sudden deep growls that vibrated in your bones, and cute high pitched, stuttered curses flowed freely from his bitten lips. When you push your hands into your flesh harder, Dennis groans louder, one hand now gripping your shoulder in a death grip as his thrusts speed up.

"Oohhhhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuck!" He cries out when his hips find a hurried pace, his resolve finally snapping.

"Yeah, that's it, Den, fuck me, baby, fuck my tits," you encourage, your tongue teasing his head each time he bottoms out. The demure work space now alive with his unending cries of pleasure, the salaciously slick heated clapping of skin on skin, and your sinful words of encouragement.

"I'm close! Baby—I'm close!" He groans through his teeth as you move with him, massaging and manipulating your flesh in a delirious rhythm that left Dennis' mind scrambling.

"Come on, Den, cum all over me, baby, make a fucking mess," you reply with a smirk. With a hushed 'fuck' as he tossed his head back, Dennis suddenly sits up in his office chair, his hands roughly replacing yours on your breasts. The hurried pace changes into a frantic, animalistic one, his grip is bruising on your skin, and the way he fucks into you is nothing short of ravaging.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—" he cuts himself off with a sudden shout of your name, a shiver wracking his body as his head tilts towards the ceiling once more, his eyes shut tight. You feel his member throb erratically, and can't help but moan.

"Look at me, Dennis " you call out in a tone you know he can't disobey. Dutifully, his eyes peel themselves open and he does as you ask, his face was flushed and dewy with sweat as his unfairly muscular body tensed with pleasure. "You gonna be good for me?"

"Y-Yes! Always!" He cries out in a pleasure strained voice. He meant it, too. He was always gonna be good for you.

"Then cum all over me, Dennis," you say in a sinisterly sweet voice, the filthy words a stark contrast to your tone, "be my good boy, baby..."

"M'your good boy!" Dennis grunts mostly to himself, the tendons in his neck bulging as his balls draw tight, the pleasure building in his groin was far too much to handle any longer.

"I'm your good boy!" He practically screams, his voice waivering and high as he cums all over you. His tip just peeking out of the valley of your tits as his hips unceremoniously sputter to a halt. He watches as he paints your tender skin with his seed, each rope coating you in a thick white ribbon. A few spurts land on your neck and chin, much to your surprise.

Dennis moans as he releases his grip on your breasts, his taught muscles slowly relaxing into the chair beneath him. His chest heaves as he looks at you: your hair still neat, your face flushed, eyes lustful and amused, and your tits— oh, the sight. Each globe of flesh was painted in his spend, dripping and oozing down your curvy slopes, your delicate neck was coated as well. God, it was absolutely glorious.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasps between deep breaths, his body was nearly completely numb and his ears had a pleasant ringing echoing through them. You giggle at the mess of a man before you, making him smile tiredly.

You swipe a finger through one of the pools of cum on your neck and bring it to your lips. Dennis' jaw drops when you slurp his cum off your finger with a moan. You clear a strand off your chin, making sure Dennis watches as you do it. When you're finished with your little show, you smile at him sweetly and rise to your feet.

He catches your hands and pulls you into his lap, not caring if his seed stains his shirt. His lips latch on to yours needily, craving that gentle intimacy that he's been deprived of for years. You happily oblige, cradling his head in your hands lovingly as you give him a soft kiss. You lose the next five minutes to your tender kisses and gentle caresses. When you finally release him from your hold, he looks dazed and blissed out— like his brain was a puddle of sweet feelings (and it was).

"Let's get ready for bed, Den," you suggest. This time he offers no resistance, simply nodding and nuzzling into your hands with his scruffy face. With some coaxing, you manage to get him cleaned up and tucked in bed in no time. When your eyes drift shut, you listen to the steady breaths of the sleeping man beside you, his arm slung over your waist affectionately and his face hidden in the crook of your neck. The steady thump thump thump of his heartbeat is a gentle lullaby that eventually pulls you into a peaceful sleep.

I no longer have a taglist! If you'd like to keep up-to-date with when I post a fic, follow @littlelioncub-library to be notified 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics💖

[bubblyhoney]

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

-

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

-

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Come With Me

Culinary major! Soobin x food vlogger! reader; just some teeth rotting fluff

Word Count: 3.35k words

Mellow speaks: So I finally completed this long overdue and super fun request!!! Honestly, writing this was just so amazing, and I kinda drew Y/N based on my own self, so I hope you enjoy reading it!!

Rushing into his apartment, Soobin didn't waste a single minute in discarding his bag on the floor, rushing towards his laptop and turning it on. As the screen booted, the final-year culinary major prayed to the gods for the livestream to not have started yet. The winner of the contest from last month was to be announced at the beginning of the stream, and even though Soobin didn't have any hopes of him winning, he couldn't help the tiny voice at the back of his head saying, "What if?."

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a voice, sweet and velvety as always. There you were, on his screen, the biggest of smiles plastered on your face, making him feel warm all over. Y/N L/N, his favorite food vlogger in the world, ready to start another livestream. Soobin had always been more of a silent supporter, his introverted self being too shy to even post a comment under any of your videos, partly because you had a habit of replying to as many of those comments as possible, and he knew for a fact that he would combust on the spot if you were to ever reply to his praises of you.

You see, he greatly admired your love for food and your wanderlust. He was also a great fan of the way you spoke, and the way you articulated your ideas and thoughts. Truth be told, he genuinely liked you, and not just your voyager self. Watching your videos over the years, he had found himself developing a small crush on you, knowing full well that it was probably just him being starstruck. So, gathering all the bravery he had, the boy had finally pressed "Send" on the application form for the competition on the last day, after contemplating it for God knows how long.

There had been only one question on the form, asking respondents to describe what food meant to them. A smile had graced Soobin's lips as you answered it, pouring in his most sincere thoughts on everything culinary. What had pushed him to participate, you ask? It had been the prize, of course. A chance to hang out with none other than you yourself, through a one-on-one video call. He had always wanted to see you in person, to tell you how much your vlogs meant to him. How they had helped discover his own love for food, had helped him find his happiness in the kitchen.

And that had brought him to right now, biting on his fingernails as he listened to your regular introduction, one that he knew by heart and repeated after you, subconsciously. "Hey my food-holics! How are all of you doing today? Hale and hearty, I hope!," you said, following up quickly with a brief overview of the contest, before announcing the winner, as Soobin waited with bated breath. "All your answers were amazing, and I could relate to so many of them! It really sucks that we can only have one winner, since you're all winners to me!," you smiled, and he caught himself copying your expression. "So now, the winner of the contest, and the person who gets to be my new friend, is @aglio_olive!!," you exclaimed, clapping your hands as your eyes crinkled up in joy.

The fact that you had just announced him as the winner of registered belatedly, as Soobin was busy gushing over how adorable you had looked while clapping. He felt his mouth drop open, finding it hard to focus on what you said next. "I'll be contacting you via email shortly," you had said, and that was all it took for the rest of the livestream to go by in a blur for him, as he waited for your mail, checking and re-checking his inbox every two minutes. But it wasn't until the next day that he finally received what he had been peeling his eyes out for. An email from your official account (or that's what he figured), informing him that the meeting would take place on the coming Saturday, at 6:00 pm. Now all he had to do was wait three days, but it was easier said than done.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Soobin was equal parts bubbling with excitement and panicking with nerves. Reluctant to trust his own fashion choices, he had called over his best friend, Yeonjun, hoping to get some much needed guidance. "Should I wear this suit? Or will simple tracks be better?," he had asked, making the older boy shake his head as he patted him on the back. "My friend, Y/N's neither your professor, nor your friend. You're meeting them for the first time, so why don't you just wear something comfortable, that would make them feel at ease too?," he smirks, throwing a plain blue hoodie his way.

As the clock struck 6:00, Soobin found himself seated at his study table, ready to start the meeting. He had even prepared cue cards to help him if he got stuck, and they were propped conveniently next to the laptop. He reached out for them, but just at that moment, his screen came alive with someone waving at him with a smile on their face. Awestruck, he simply waved back, too tongue-tied to say anything. "Wow," he thought to himself, "They look so much better without makeup." A couple seconds later, a new kind of panic set in. "Am I staring too hard? Is it creepy? Should I look down? No but I need to keep eye contact!"

Little did he know, you were having similar, if not identical thoughts. "Wow, no one told me he was gonna be this cute. Blue suits him so well! I'm no staring, am I? Should I speak first? Or should I wait for him to say something?" This finally resulted in the both of you speaking at the same time, something you would later smile about. Because saying "How are you? I'm Soobin," and "I'm Y/N! How are you?," helped you crack into laughter, breaking the ice and easing the awkwardness. Once you had gotten past the niceties, it was time to get to know each other better. The cue cards lay unused, as Soobin just spoke about whatever came to mind, praising your vlogs and thanking you for teaching him more about cuisines. You, on the other hand, took the time to get to know him better, asking him questions about what it was like to study culinary science, something you had never gotten the chance to do.

The hour-long virtual meeting flew by in the blink of an eye, or so it seemed to the both of you. Talking to you, Soobin didn't once feel that you were a stranger or that he was just a fan. You seemed like a genuine and warm person to him that he couldn't help but admire you even more than he did before. To him, somewhere during the meeting, you stopped seeming like a famous vlogger anymore, and instead, all he saw you as was a friend. You, on the other hand, had made up your mind about him being the most interesting person you had ever met, and couldn't stop a sad sigh from escaping your lips as you looked at the time. "Well, Soobin. It's been a pleasure meeting you," you had said, making him smile wistfully.

The moment he had logged out of the meeting, he found himself missing you. He thought back on how nice you had been, smiling when he pictured your face, your hair slightly messy but not too unkempt, an oversized hoodie thrown over your body. To him, it had honestly felt like he was conversing with a friend, and he couldn't bring himself to let such an amazing person walk out of his life. So, without thinking, he began typing out an email to your account, his finger hovering just above the "Send" button. He stopped short though, realizing that your official account wasn't meant for personal mails, and realizing that he had no other means to contact you. Pouting, he fell face-first onto the bed, his energy going down all of a sudden.

He woke up to a "ping," indicating an email on his phone. Unlocking it, he noticed a mail from an account he had never contacted before. Clueless, he clicked on it, the phone nearly falling out of his hand as he read through it. It had been you, after all, reaching out to him through your personal account, and telling him that you had loved talking to him, and would like to be his friend. And thus began the most beautiful friendship either of you had ever forged, full of memories even though you hadn't met each other.

Late night video chats and good morning calls became a ritual, and Soobin found himself busily typing away on his phone every free second he got. You told him all about your escapades and trips, sending him photos and urging him to try cooking whatever you ate and whatever you liked. He, on the other hand, would teach you to cook, sending you tips and giving you suggestions on what to eat. Food was an intergalactic part of the relation you shared, but it was far from being the only thing.

When things got hard for him, you were there to push him towards his dream, reminding him day in and day out that he would have to give in his all to achieve it. "You'll be the greatest chef one day, Soob," you'd giggle, causing him to let out a whine as he said, "How would you know? You haven't even tasted my cooking yet!" He too, was there to provide you a taste of what it felt like to be grounded to one place, to have everything you wanted right next to you. He was there for you to cry to when someone posted a nasty comment under you video, and he was there to virtually feed you when you missed a home-cooked meal. Inside jokes became a thing, as did bitching about classmates and complaining about managers.

Over time, your friendship started blossoming into something more, as Soobin found himself catching feelings, real feelings, for you. The way you smiled, the way you would bite your nails just like him as you went through what people had to say about your videos, the way you cracked stupid jokes and laughed at them alone, he found himself loving them all. He had given his heart out to you, and he didn't want to take it back. You, meanwhile, had been a bit more careful of your feelings, wary of harboring any hopes for a long-distance relationship. But over time, you too, found yourself drowning into the oceans that were his eyes, watching the way his lips moved through the screen, imagining them on yours. Over time, you too, felt your feelings grow, but being your stubborn self, you didn't act on them.

Days turned into months, and soon enough, you were keeping Soobin company through his late night study sessions, talking to him in the hopes of keeping him awake. Helping him prepare flashcards, and letting him teach you a full four-course meal so that he could practice for his practical exams. "What are you gonna do once you graduate?," became a regular question you posed towards him, and every time, it was the same reply. "I don't know yet, Y/N. I want to do something like you. I want to travel the world and learn about different cuisines first-hand."

As Soobin's exams drew nearer, you found yourself bring just as worried as he was, worried about how he'd fare in the examinations, worried about what he'll do when he gets his degree. But keeping your concerns aside, you did your best to push him to do his best, study that last chapter, practice that last technique, memorize that last recipe. "I just wanna sleep, Y/N," he'd whine, only to have you let out a giggle at how adorable he looked. "It's for your own good, bub," you'd reply, your smile somehow managing to give him the strength to put in just a little extra effort.

Seeing him work so hard, you couldn't help but want to give him a surprise by congratulating him in person when he graduated. So, you decided to plan a trip to Seoul, shooting a film vlog just an excuse to finally meet your closest friend, and the person you had a crush on. You had initially wanred to keep the plan a secret, but soon realized what a waste it would be to not use it to your advantage. And so started your ingenious way of getting Soobin to hit the books. "I'm coming to Seoul after your exams, but I'll meet you only if you put in all your effort," you'd tell him, repeating it like a mantra day in and day out.

In response, the boy would pout and whine about how he "hated" you, but started putting in double the effort, just to make you proud. Your tactic seemed to work, but Soobin was still nervous. Nor about the theory, but about the practical exams. "What if I don't do well on the exam? It happens all the time on Masterchef," he said one day, looking into your eyes as you attempted to calm him down. "I know you'll nail it, Binnie," you replied, smiling at him through the screen. "Just think about what makes you happy while you cook, and you'll be good to go." As if on a whim, Soobin muttered out a soft, "You," causing your breath to hitch as you asked him to repeat. "You make me happy," he said again, looking down as he felt his cheeks growing warm. You couldn't help but smile at his sudden confession, sending a virtual kiss his way. "Now go study, you idiot," you giggled, proceeding to tell him about your day as he pored over his books.

The day of his practical exam rolled by, and as you had said, Soobin decided to cook while thinking of something that made him happy. He thought back on the day when you had told him about a delicacy from a city you had visited, and had convinced him to teach you how to make it. The memory alone made a smile appear on his lips, reminding him of how happy the two of you were. And so, that's what he cooked, passing his exam with flying colors. He was so happy he could have kissed you if you were there, and he told you that, causing a laugh to escape your lips. "I'll be there soon," was all you said, fighting to control your excitement.

Soobin passed with flying colors, earning his degree fair and square. And the one person he wanted to thank for it, was you. As you had promised him, a week later found you roaming the streets of Seoul, as you hurriedly made your way towards his college, ready to finally meet him at his convocation. Climbing up the stage to accept his degree, his eyes were busy scanning the crowds, eager to see your face. When he couldn't find you, however, he felt his smile falter, as he took in a gulp.

"Where are you Y/N?," he thought to himself, hand itching to check his phone that was lying in his back pocket. You had told him you'd be here on time, so then, where were you? Just as he feels himself falling deeper into his thoughts, he (like everyone else in the hall) hears footsteps running down the corridor, finally revealing you standing at the entrance, out of breath and with a huge smile stretching across your face. "You're here," he mouthed, his smile matching yours, as you replied with a simple nod and a "Congratulations," your eyes brimming with tears of joy for the boy.

Accepting his degree, Soobin walked off the stage to sit with his classmates, eyes meeting yours every so often as he tried to fight the urge to rush to you and hug you. Once the ceremony ended, neither of you wasted a second in finding each other, throwing yourselves into a hug long overdue. It didn't feel weird as you snuggled your face into his convocation robe, and it didn't feel weird as he did the same into your hair. Pulling away, you just couldn't hide the smiles that threatened to take over your entire face, taking each other's hand as Soobin left you to his parents. "Mom, Dad, this is my friend Y/N," he introduced, and his mom didn't miss the spark in her son's eyes as he looked at you.

Once you were done with the niceties, the two of you made your way out into the city once Soobin had handed his robe over to his mom. Walking the streets with him, with you cracking jokes and him pointing out tourist sights to you, you felt something you had never felt, no matter how many cities you visited. A sense of comfort, a sense of belonging. You felt like you were home for the first time in ages, and it was all because of the guy walking next to you. As if on a whim, you whipped out your video-camera, switching it on and turning it to yourself. Soobin belatedly realized what you were doing, when he heard you recite you introduction. Looking at you in shock, he felt his mouth fall open as he heard you say the words, "Friend," "Soobin," "Featuring," "Guide," in quick succession, piecing the sentence together in his brain.

"Y/N! What are you doing??," he whined, looking down to hide his face. "Awww Soobinnie is shy!!! Sorry guys, it's his first time," you cooed, a giggle escaping your lips as you turned your camera off, trying to convince him to feature in your vlog. "But I won't know what to say!!," he retorted, making you snicker. "Just take me out to eat somewhere tell, and tell the camera why you like the place you like and the food you like. It's not that hard!," you replied, and after much convincing (and some borderline begging), he finally agreed.

He showed you all his favorite eateries and restaurants, gawking at the insane discounts you got him, and just enjoying watching you eat in person, sharing his food. By the time evening rolled out, the two of you were full to your throats, looking out over the river from the bridge. "Thank you Y/N," Soobin said, turning to look at you. "For today, and for everyday. For being there for me, and for being the best friend I have ever had, and more." "Thank you too, Soob," you replied, your eyes stinging as you looked up at him. "Thank you for making me feel at home. Thank you for becoming my home." You hadn't noticed just how close your faces had become, both of you having leaned in subconsciously. Finally, Soobin closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that's full of the pent-up love and emotions.

His lips were soft against yours, molding with yours like two pieces of the same puzzle. Pulling away, a smile graced your lips as you looked up at him shyly, whispering an "I like you," causing him to repeat your words and adding a "too," cheeks rising up in a smile. Biting you bottom lip, you say, "Come with me," making him tilt his head in confusion. "You said you wanted to be like me. To learn about cuisines first-hand. Then come with me. I don't want to be away from you, I want to be with you 24/7, and not virtually. I want to talk to you in person, to hug you, to kiss you." You notice his smile growing wider, and so you ask, "So, what do you say?," as he replies by placing his lips back on yours.

[necros-writing-stuff]

"You're joking." Bailey took another drag from his cigarette, an unamused glare leveled at his only real friend. Eden sat across from him, on the other side of his desk. The chair he was in, too small for his height and weight. It creaked when the hunter shifted, sitting up straighter in the chair ment for children and teens.

"I'm not." Eden's deadpan expression and monotone response felt like a punch in the gut. Or a knife in the back. Not that Bailey would let him know that.

The caretaker let out a cloud of smoke before snuffing his cigarette in the ashtray to his left. He opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, the cheap stuff you used to get wasted fast. He kept the good stuff at home, the expensive, quality kind ment to be sipped on while reading by the fire, his spouse's head in his lap. Resting, or blowing him; he didn't care which. God, he wished he could be there instead right now.

The cap of the bottle was uncerimoniously flicked off, bouncing off the wall and landing in the trash across the room. Bailey brought the glass to his lips and began drinking the amber liquid.

"Nice shot-"

"Don't fucking start with me, Eden." Bailey snapped, bringing the whiskey down hard on his desk. The sound was a lot louder in the otherwise quiet room. For a moment, the only sound was from his ancient computer. The monitor humming with life. He had three new emails from high paying clients, but he couldn't focus on anything but the sick joke in front of him.

"You're being childish." Eden grunted, shifting in the wooden chair.

"Childish? I'm being childish?! You're the one who's trying to fuck my kid!" Bailey's hands came down on the desk, his chair pushed out from under him as he stood. Eden quirked an eyebrow.

"You sell children all the time. Figured it'd be the same with that one." He shrugged, much too calm for Bailey's liking. He grit his teeth and breathed heavy out his nose. There'd be no good in killing Eden. He'd feel bad about it, his kid would be crushed and, most importantly, his spouse would be upset.

He used his foot to drag his leather office chair back to him and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it. He dropped back down in his seat and glowered at his "friend".

"It's different with my kid." He said sternly. He hadn't kept many secrets from Eden in regards to his home life. Hell, he let you visit him! Eden knew damn well you were one of two people he gave a shit about and yet here he was!

"Is it because your spouse?" Eden asked, cocking his head to the side like a dog. He spent too much time in the woods. He was going feral. He was going fucking feral and he wanted to buy Bailey's only (actual) child. He didn't give a shit if you were an adult, almost finished with high school and ready for uni. He was your father damn it! You were still a baby to him!

"No. It's not because of my spouse." Before he felt the itch to grab his gun itch up his arm, he took another long swig of whiskey. How could Eden not get it? He was like family to you! To him! What the actual fuck?!

"You think someone else would take better care of them?" Eden countered. Had Bailey said that out loud? Regardless, the caretaker pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's not the point Eden." He let out a defeated groan.

"What is?" Bailey stared hard at Eden, searching for any hint of humor or malice, or anything that might give away that his childhood friend didn't actually want to bone his baby.

"The point," He found none. Bailey ran his hands through his hair again.

"Eden, is that you're like an uncle to them. It's as close to incestuous as you could possibly get. Not only that, you're significantly older than them and quite frankly," Bailey pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag before letting the smoke fill the air between them.

"I'd rather they leave for uni and never have to come back here. I don't want them living in the forest with a man who's forgotten basic decencies. Like not requesting to engage in sexual acts with their friends' kid." Bailey held his fresh cig between his middle and ring fingers, studying Eden. He didn't want it to come to blood, but he'd done worse things in his life. Eden chuckled.

"So there's something you won't take money for." He said, his smile genuine and amused. His spouse would be so upset if he killed Eden. They'd be so, so disappointed if he went home with bruises and bloody knuckles from beating the shit out of their friend. He was sure they would understand, of course, he just didn't want them knowing it came to blows. His perfect little spouse was already aware of all the horrible, fucked up shit he did. He didn't want to push it.

"Two somethings." Bailey corrected. He had a small picture of you and your other parent hidden in his desk. Helped him not kill the orphans that were too young to sell. It was also helping him resist the urge to smash the half drank bottle of whiskey over Eden's head.

"I'm not asking for you to pimp them out." Eden spoke like they were talking about the weather. Like Bailey wasn't doing his damndest not to kill him.

"I said, I wanted to buy them. For keeps." Bailey flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"And what does for keeps mean?" Bailey could see the gears turning in Eden's head. He didn't like it. Eden wasn't dumb muscle. He was strong, sure but he was also smart and resourceful. That made him dangerous. After an agonizing minute passed, Eden spoke.

"Like you and your spouse." Bailey blinked slowly, dumbfounded.

"You want to marry my eighteen year old. Who you've known since they were an infant."

"Yes." Bailey sat back in his chair and pulled a phone from his pocket. Not one of his burner phones he used for criminal activity, but one he bought specifically to contact you and his spouse. He quickly selected your other parent's number and called them.

The pair listened as it rang, and a soft voice came from the line. The sound of something boiling and the clattering of dishes could be heard in the background.

"Hello?" Bailey's spouse answered. Bailey ran his free hand through his hair again, further wrecking it. He was an incredibly prideful man. If Eden had been anyone else, he'd be dead. If his spouse was anyone else, he wouldn't speak to them. If you were anyone else, he wouldn't give a shit. But three strikes and he's out.

"Eden's lost his mind. I can't speak with him. Please explain to him why he can't marry our child." He knew he sounded pathetic and defeated. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Thus, he chose the option that wouldn't affect his marriage.

"I'll be there in five." Oh. They sounded so... Angry. He hadn't expected that. They were always so soft and gentle, they rarely got really, truly angry at any one person. Of course, this was their baby they were talking about. You were as precious to them as you were Bailey.

Eden seemed just as curious to see them pissed off as he was.

(- anon 🚩 then Prequel!pc showed up, the three of them yelled at eachother, exchanging low blows and personal insults and then current!pc came in cause no one was home and eden proposed and they said yes and they left together and fucked for a whooooooooole week. The end.)

Oh what I would give to be a fly on that wall.

And you just know Current-PC and Eden would come visit for dinner every week and Bailey would have to sit there while his best friend hand-feeds his kid, who still sits in his lap regardless of where they are. Pre-PC might purposefully burn Eden’s food.

[sofreddie]

High School Reunion 2

Summary: Someone at the reunion has a big mouth.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,087

A/N: Inspiration struck out of nowhere and this piece was born. I have a very rough outline for a small series, maybe about 6 parts? We'll see. It's gonna happen randomly, no planned schedule for this one.

PART 1

Y/N bit her lip in excitement and saw a message from Lana. She immediately opened Skype to call her best friend…and thank her.

"Hey you! How was the reunion?" Lana smiled as her face appeared on screen.

"Oh my fucking God I can't believe you!" Y/N screamed, though it was mostly excitement as she blushed profusely.

"So…I take it you had a good night then?" Lana grinned cheekily.

"How could you not tell me you met Jensen Freaking Ackles?! I thought we were friends?" Y/N pouted dramatically as she plopped back on her couch, phone still in hand.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep it from you?" Lana screeched in response, "You remember my last night at the convention, I went to that place for dinner that had the amazing burger?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you loved the place, that it was a perfect ending to the trip," Y/N remembered, "Now I get why."

"Ok, yeah, so I'm sat at the bar with my burger and a beer and he comes in and sits with a chair between us. I instantly recognized him, but was trying to keep my cool, you know. But he remember me! From the photo op! So we just got to talking and you had just split with Chase and I was so worried about you-"

"Oh Lana, you didn't," Y/N groaned.

"I was just venting about how much I hated that douchebag and what he did to you and what you were going through and how I was so worried about the reunion but thought it could be a good thing for you after Chase-" she rambled on, her words quickly tumbling forth as she pleaded her case to her best friend.

"You're not mad, right?" Lana asked timidly.

"How can I be?" Y/N shouted, "He walked in there all suave and shut down my high school bullies - who were trying to start some shit let me tell you-"

"No!" Lana gasped, "Amanda?"

"And the others," Y/N sighed, "And they were trying to cut in on me and I was gonna run, I'm not gonna lie," Y/N chuckled lightly, "But then he was just there. And she introduced himself as my boyfriend….Oh my god, Lana! What if that gets out?" Y/N sat bolt upright on her couch in a panic.

"Whoa, Y/N, calm down," Lana insisted, "More important than that…he introduced himself as your boyfriend?!"

"Lana!"

"I'm just sayin'-"

Y/N sighed dreamily, "Then we danced. Then he took me for a drive and we parked up at the spot and ate burgers while chatting and watching stars," she sighed again, as if it were a scene from a romantic film she had just watched.

"That sounds like a date," Lana helpfully noted.

"I thought that too!" Y/N squealed, "But that's just the fangirl right? I mean, there's no way."

"How many times I gotta tell you you're a catch, woman?" Lana laughed, "I'm not surprised at all. In fact, I'm taking credit. You're welcome," Y/N groaned once more and Lana chuckled.

"Did I mention we exchanged numbers?" Y/N added with a grin.

"And now I hate you," Lana huffed.

"Yeah, love you too you meddler."

Y/N sighed happily to herself once more as they ended the call. She tossed her phone on the coffee table as she relaxed back into the couch. Her eyes fluttered closed as she replayed the evenings events in her mind.

She had to be dreaming. There was no way this was real, right?

Too tired and content to carry herself off to the bedroom, Y/N laid down on the couch, settling into the plush cushions and dragging the throw from the back of the couch to cover herself, falling asleep quickly and dreaming of shimmering green eyes.

Jensen groaned as he slowly came awake to the incessant ringing and chimes of his phone. He opened his eyes, grabbing for the phone and peeking at the time.

6am.

He and Y/N were out past midnight. After he made it back to the hotel, he had spent the better part of an hour sipping on a beer as he thought over the night he had with her.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to talk to Lana in the bar that night. He could tell she was a nervous fan, and he remembered her from the photo op, just as nervous and shy. But after a beer or two with her dinner, she relaxed and their conversation flowed. It was nice, to be chatting away with someone new, different.

When she went on about her best friend Y/N, Jensen felt something. Apparently the way if affected her friend was severe enough to have Lana in real turmoil over it. Jensen knew what that was like. He'd worried over Jared a time or two just the same.

When Lana gave him a picture, however, his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful, with a charming smile. But he could see her eyes were sad and guarded.

When he realized the reunion was a few hours drive and a few days ahead of his schedule to be at another convention, he decided to make the stop to see Y/N at the reunion. At the very least he could chalk it up to a memorable fan moment.

Jensen rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reluctantly sat against the headboard, checking to see why his phone was blowing up.

It took only a quick glance through the various calls and text and emails from various persons all talking about the same thing. Jensen opened the text thread from Jared, scrolling through the messages and clicking on a picture that was include.

It was him and Y/N dancing together at the reunion the night before. She looked as amazing as he remembered. Her smile was bright and genuine, but so was his. Apparently word had spread from the reunion that he and Y/N were together. That's when he remembered introducing himself to those girls as Y/N's boyfriend.

He wasn't so bothered by the turn of events, which surprised him. He had decided the night before that he wanted to ask her out on a date. Their chemistry was too intense to not pursue.

What bothered him was how she'd react. They'd literally just met and had a friendly, albeit great, evening and now she was possibly going to be bombarded with paparazzi and everyone in her business.

So much for that date.

He knew it was early, but he wanted Y/N to hear from him first. He opened the new message thread between them, seeing her text from the night before and smiling once more, before typing out his message.

Hey, Y/N. Hope you slept well. Was hoping to talk to you about something.

He sent the message, noting the time, and figured he'd give it some time. He didn't know her schedule, or anything about her really. With a groan, Jensen hit the green button to return one of Jared's missed calls.

"Dude!" Jared exclaimed as he answered after one ring, "I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours!"

"Yes, Mom, I'm aware," Jensen said with a yawn.

"Did you see the picture?"

"Yeah."

"And?" Jared pressed for more, "Why aren't you freaking out about this?" Jared scoffed. Since his last major relationship ended, Jensen hadn't been with anyone really. An occasional date here and there for an event. But he hadn't seemed interested in anyone at all, and was quick to shut down any insuinuations to the contrary.

"I guess I should of seen it coming," Jensen shrugged, "I did introduce myself as her boyfriend after all."

"You what?" Jared was shocked, trying to wrap his head around it, "Why would you do that? Is there something you aren't telling me? Have you been dating her for a while? Who is she anyway?"

Jared fired off the questions in rapid succession like an excited puppy.

"I gotta talk to her first," Jensen said, "I'll see you at the convention in a couple days. You can interrogate me then."

"I want all the details."

"Don't you always?"

Jensen ended the call, taking a deep breath. He felt so stupid for what he did. He wasn't sure why he did that other than to shut those girls down. He really hated bullies.

He decided to get dressed and grab a couple of coffees on his way to Y/N's house. A quick look at his social media had told him that picture was blowing up. She was bound to find out sooner rather than later. He had to tell her first.

Y/N slowly roused from her deep sleep on the comfy couch, hearing an incessant rapping coming from her front door. She stretched, reaching for her phone on the coffee table and finding it dead.

She rolled her eyes as she threw off the throw, climbing from the couch and shuffling to the door and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She flung open the door, the morning's cresting light just bright enough to assault her eyes. It took her a second to focus, but then she saw Jensen, a small smile on his face and two tall coffees in hand.

"Jensen?" she asked, so very confused and wondering if she was still asleep.

"Hey, uh, I know it's early. But I really needed to see you this morning."

The smile he gave was sweet, but she could tell something was up. Was he worried that maybe she'd go blabbing about their night together? She'd never do that. But she guessed he didn't know that.

"Sure, come in," she smiled warmly, stepping aside and gesturing him into her home. She accepted the coffee as Jensen passed it to her on his way in. She shut the door behind him, taking a whiff of her drink before taking a long gulp, closing her eyes and sighing at the flavor.

"So, what's up?" she asked, shuffling on her feet, "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome," he smiled, now genuine and inviting and Y/N's heart stuttered slightly at the sight, "I was hoping to talk to you, about last night."

She shook her head, "I won't talk about it with anyone, I promise. Well, other then Lana. I had to call her last night. Yell at her a little," she blushed.

He laughed, nodding his head, "No, I get it. But I wasn't worried about that or anything," he was quick to correct, "Actually, someone else already did."

"Did what?"

"Someone got a picture of us on the dance floor last night and might have said I mentioned I was your boyfriend," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh," she responded, clearly shocked and not sure what to say.

"I just wanted you to hear it from me first, you know? Before seeing it online or whatever."

"Online-" she echoed, her eyes going wide, "So, you can just post a Tweet or something that it's a mistake."

"Okay, well, to be fair, I did introduce myself as your boyfriend to those other women last night."

"Yeah…why'd you do that again?" Y/N smirked despite herself.

He shrugged, "Seemed like the right thing to do. Shut 'em up didn't it?" he grinned, "Besides," he chanced, stepping closer to her," Feels like we had a date last night."

She blushed hard, ducking her head before meeting his eyes once again, "Yeah, it did."

"And I was hoping you'd like to do it again."

"Really?" she asked. She couldn't help the dreamy look in her eye. She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yeah. So if you say yes, then we'd be dating, which is practically boyfriend and girlfriend," he explained casually, "So I think we should just keep doing what we're doing and let it ride. What do you think?"

"I think you might be a little bit crazy," she nervously laughed, "Let's start with a second date," she grinned, seeing him brighten up, "And go from there."

"And the press?" Jensen chanced.

"Let them think what they wanna think," she shrugged.

"You're freakin' perfect," he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, even though she still had bedhead. He smiled at the cuteness of it.

"I should go freshen up!" she realized, seeing him look over her disheveled state, "Uh…be right back." she rushed off down the hall and Jensen laughed to himself.

He had a good feeling about this.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

[bruhstories]

Baby, I’ve Already got Your Heart

Summary: An accidental meeting between Armin and Y/N leads to an unhealthy obsession. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings: stalking, language, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), switch!Reader, switch!Armin, rope is involved. Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by this song. It is surprisingly wholesome, considering the tags xD

Armin Arlert. The purest man in the world. You accidentally met him one cold, rainy day when he entered your coffee shop for shelter and warmth. He naively talked to you, grateful for how nice you were with him, grateful for the cappuccino on the house, grateful for the towel you offered him to dry himself off. Little did Armin know, a fixation sprouted in your mind and heart, developing into the unhealthiest obsession. He was just so cute — and you just had to have him. It helped to know that you were both going to the same university, and after that, you knew everything about him: his Facebook, Instagram, email address, hell, you even knew his real address. To be fair, it was a piece of cake, the boy was absolutely clueless and whenever he 'accidentally' met you, he thought it was by pure chance. The next and most obvious step was to befriend people in his social circle, one Jean Kirstein, one Sasha Braus and one Connie Springer. Naturally, you did your homework, and you knew his best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, but they weren't easy targets. Besides, it would jeopardise your entire plan, as you found Armin was considered a genius. An oblivious genius. He didn't know it yet, but you loved him and he loved you too, right?

A text from Sasha, months after you first met the angelic man, set your plan in motion. A casual gaming night at Armin's place, and you were invited. How perfect. Poor glutton Sasha had no fucking clue how much you were using her, how you told her you want to meet a cute guy, someone nice and caring, someone smart and attentive. The girl put two and two together and decided she just had to introduce you to one of her friends, especially that he was also interested in meeting a girl like you. Unbelievable — you acted surprised, met up with Sasha and left for Armin's little gaming night. You wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Starting from tonight, he'd be yours. Forever.

"Armiiiiiiiiin, I brought a plus one!" Sasha barged into his house. "This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, Armin! Oh shit, pretzels!" The brown-haired woman left the two of you in the hallway and the blond flashed you a smile.

"I feel like I've seen you before." He mused as he closed the door behind you.

"If you ever drink coffee at Rose's you might've seen me there." You smiled and removed your leather jacket, revealing a Pearl Jam t-shirt.

"No way you listen to them!" Armin blurted.

"Are you kidding me? They're my favourite!" You lied through your teeth with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Mine too! Oh, I know, you're the girl who gave me a free cappuccino months ago!"

"I remember! You were drenched in rainwater." You laughed as the two of you entered the living room. "I had to mop up the puddles you left behind."

"I'm so sorry about that..." He blushed. Your heart fluttered and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him, but for the time being, you needed to behave.

"No worries, I just hope you didn't catch a cold." You assured Armin and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder. There he goes, blushing again. It couldn't be... was he a virgin? Fuck. This was better than you could've imagined.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, Mikasa, Eren, this is Y/N. She's friends with Sasha."

"Nice to meet you!" Eren shook your hand. "Oh, God, you listen to Pearl Jam, too? You nerds are going to get along just fine." He joked.

The night went great, and you actually had fun with Armin and his friends, despite not intending to mingle with them too much. People started leaving around 2 am, but Eren and Mikasa stayed longer. Too fucking long — and things were boring now anyway. You and Armin kept talking about video games and books, Mikasa fell asleep on Eren who was playing fucking Farmville on his phone. They had to leave as soon as possible.

"Hey, Y/N, we can take you home." Eren suggested and you froze. Shit.

"Didn't you say you're almost out of gas?" Armin questioned his friend.

"Ah, fuck, you're right. I still don't know how that happened — I fuelled the tank yesterday!" The brunette scoffed. "Guess you're on your own, Y/N."

"It's alright, I'll take an uber." You politely smiled.

"Alright, we'll wait for you."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Truth be told, you appreciated how nice and caring Armin's friends were, but you had a different goal to accomplish.

"You really don't have to, plus I have to use the bathroom." You excused yourself. "Um, where is the bathroom exactly?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right." Armin told you while gathering plates and cups from the table. You nodded and climbed up the stairs. Your hand hovered over the bathroom doorknob for a good minute, eyes drifting to the door next to it. Armin's bedroom, by the looks of it. Surely, you could take a look, right? Fuck it. You opened the second door and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. LED and fairy lights encircled a corner of his room and, curiously, you walked closer to see what that was, because it didn't look like a desk. Your Y/E/C widened when you saw tens of framed photographs of yourself on the square table, objects you thought you lost and — Jesus, was that your bra? A rush of anxiety hit you, but before you could do anything, a blow to your head blurred your vision.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

Dark lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes. The sudden realisation that you were naked and restrained to a bed made you jolt. What just happened?

"Fucking finally, I thought you'd never wake up." Armin greeted you, but his voice was different, deeper and darker.

"Ar-ugh, Armin?" You groaned at the stinging sensation at the back of your head.

"You know, I was relieved you didn't leave with Sasha, otherwise you would've slipped between my fingers again."

Again?

"Ugh, and Eren and his stupid idea. 'We'll take you home.'" He mocked his best friend with a high pitch. "I've been dreaming for this moment since I walked into that shitty coffee shop."

You were at a loss for words. This was not the Armin you fantasised about, not the Armin you wanted. He was much more and much worse. And. So. Much. Better.

Alright then, you'd put up a show for him.

"P-please, Armin, please untie m-me! I'll be good, I p-promise!" You stuttered and whimpered, trying your best to sound genuine.

"Why, so you can run away?" The blond scoffed. So, he didn't know you stalked him. What a twist.

"I won't r-run, I swear!"

"Bullshit." Armin bent over your body, hands around your neck. You gasped and pretended to be startled by his touch, but in reality, your core was already burning with lust. You knew you couldn't keep up with this charade. "No, Y/N, I won't untie you. But we'll have so much fun." He sneered.

"You promise?"

"Yes. Wait—"

Your laughter filled the bedroom, genuine laughter that baffled Armin. Was this some sort of reverse psychology trick?

"Oh, Armin, even when you reveal your true colours, you're still oblivious to the reality of what's in front of you."

"Then enlighten me, what am I so oblivious to?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"The fact that this was my fucking plan, too." You stretched as much as your restraints allowed you to and licked your lips. "I guess we both stalked each other without even knowing. How ridiculous."

"I think I would've known if you stalked me, Y/N."

"Really? Let me prove it, then. Your favourite food's Carbonara pasta, your favourite drink is peach and lychee iced tea, favourite movie is Interstellar, you lived on Sheena street until you were 12–"

"That's common knowledge, Sasha could've told you any of that." Armin blurted, growing impatient.

"You watch BDSM and asphyxiation porn between 10 pm and 11 pm every Tuesday, you're a virgin, you own a fleshlight–"

"Fuck, alright!" He threw his hands in the air, defeated. "So, what next?"

"You untie me and you tear me apart, Armin, that's what's next."

The blond hesitated before removing the cuffs on your ankles, still unsure about the ropes around your wrists. Clearly, you weren't making things up, but what were the chances of both of you stalking each other? For a brief moment, Armin felt guilty for hitting you and practically holding you captive, and you could see that on his face, but obsession and desire soon took over, and he reverted back to his darker self. His soft hands moved from your ankles to your knees, up your thighs and stomach, stopping above your chest, deciding it's best if you're not fully free. Armin licked his lips and climbed on top of you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You thought was surprisingly strong for such a thin man, but when the unbuttoned shirt revealed his chiselled abdomen, it made sense why he was strong.

"The wrists, Armin." You insisted but the blond clicked his tongue.

"I like you better when you're helpless." He pressed his lips onto yours in a hot kiss. A great kiss, you thought, your tongues wrestling for supremacy.

"Please, I want to touch you! I need to..." You trailed off, intoxicated by his smell, notes of saffron and cardamom. His hands roamed your shoulders, tickling your axilla and groping your breasts. "Please let me touch you, Armin!" You begged again, but he didn't say a word, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive nipples, goosebumps all over your skin. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and you watched him painstakingly slowly lick one of your nipples. It literally pained you to be unable to touch him, pull him closer to you. Alas, you had no choice, and despite yearning to be in control, it aroused you to have him control you.

"You smell so sweet." He abruptly stopped. "I bet you taste sweet, too."

"Armin..." His words made you brace yourself. While you weren't a virgin, you've never had anyone eat you out. The blond was already in between your legs, one hand resting under your thigh, the other gently touching your slick folds. Armin was so careful, like you were made of glass, and the ticklish sensation didn't help you at all. You wanted him to ram his cock inside of you and rearrange your guts, but he wanted to take his sweet time. The teasing only made you dizzy with pleasure, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster.

"You really need to learn to be patient, Y/N." Armin purred, pressing gentle kisses on your thighs. He lazily dragged his tongue across your slit, electricity shooting through your body. God, how you wanted to rip those ropes apart. Two fingers entered you and the blond gingerly licked your clit.  

"Fuck– so... so good ah–" You couldn't form a sentence even if your life counted on it. Gradually, you could feel your orgasm building up and Armin sensed it, picking up the pace. His fingers thrusted harder and you arched your back, the intensity too much for you. "Armin, please! I wanna come with your cock in me!" The begging didn't stop him, he was determined to make you finish then and there. And he did — within seconds you melted under his touch, legs trembling with pleasure. Armin pulled back, his mouth messy with saliva mixed with your juices.

"You come when I want you to come." His voice was low, almost like a growl. He unbuttoned his jeans, and you watched him like a hawk, waiting to see just how big his was, and you were not disappointed.

"Please please please let me suck it, please!" You begged him, eager to taste him. He smirked and kissed you, all the while rubbing his cock.

"You want this?" Armin quirked a brow at you. The little shit, jacking off in front of you and you couldn't even do anything about it.

"Armin..."

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Armin!"

"Say it, Y/N." He groaned, precum leaking from his member. Fuck.

"I... I want it..." You eventually gave up.

"Good girl." The blond climbed back on top of you. He raised your hips and you placed your legs on his shoulder, his first thrust slow and deep. Armin couldn't help the moan escaping his lips — this was so much better than that shitty fleshlight and countless porn videos. You couldn't deny the fact that it hurt, despite your soaking cunt, but you quickly adjusted to his size. As Armin pounded you, the bed underneath the two of you started moving and screeching, and the ropes tied to the metal bedframe loosened and you felt your arms fall onto the pillows. In his frenzy, the blond didn't notice, so you took this opportunity to lower your legs and wrap them around his waist, one hand grabbing his soft locks, the other wrapping around his neck. You used his weight against him and turned him over. You were in control.

Armin was taken aback by this, but the feeling of your fingers squeezing his throat only turned him on more. You bounced up and down, throwing your head back and groaning. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting his own hips against yours.

"F-fuck me harder, Y/N!" He begged and you sped up. You felt like a queen — no, a goddess — when he asked you to fuck him, the feeling of him inside of you so addictive. He was your drug, and your rehab, your poison, and your antidote. And you were his and his only. His cock was twitching in your cunt and knew he was close but you didn't want to risk it. Swiftly, you got off of him and wrapped your lips around his dick, bobbing your head up and down. It didn't take long for him to finish, hot liquid shooting down your throat with one final grunt. You swallowed it all and threw yourself next to him. It was breaking dawn already, but you weren't tired. Physically, yes, both of you were exhausted, but mentally it felt like you discovered a hidden gem.

"What the fuck did we just do?" Armin calmly caressed your hair as you nuzzled his neck.

"Are we talking about the obsessively stalking each other part or the part where you hit me in the head? Or the fucking?"

"The everything." He explained. "This is wrong."

"Did it feel wrong?" You asked him, your fingers idly tracing circles over his chest.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's not wrong." You shrugged. "Am... am I yours?"

"Yes." The blond instantly replied without a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Am I?"

"You've been mine the moment you set foot in that shitty coffee shop." You laughed.

"And what are we going to tell the others?"

"That we ended up talking all night and I stayed over?"

"Sounds like a plan." Armin kissed your forehead.

"By the way, I really don't like Pearl Jam." You admitted.

He laughed and it filled your heart with warmth. You have no idea why you and Armin were like that, or how things would be from now on, but you had a good feeling about it. Things were okay. You two were okay.

[mercurysstars]

All That Glitters Is Not Gold (part 7)

Summary: Y/n gets hired to be the avengers chief physician and also happens to be an ex assassin.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Needles, swear words, reader getting angry.

A/N: Okay y’all so maybe the reader has slight anger issues.

𝘍𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

_

Y/n suddenly became aware of the very persistent beeping noise in her ear. No matter what she tried she couldn't get it to stop and it was starting to annoy the hell out of her. She cracked her eyes open, the light-flooded her blinding her for a few seconds but her eyes quickly adjusted.

The first thing she noticed was the white plain walls of the Med-Bay. The memories flickered through her head like a flashing light. Y/n looked down to her bandage arm she peeled it back a bit, by looking at her wound she guessed she might have been out a little over a day and a half.

She grabbed the cords attached to her body and yanked them out causing the heart monitor to start flatlining. Wanda shot right up out of a dead sleep at the sound, looking over to make sure her friend was okay. Y/n didn't even know she was there until she spoke up "Oh good you're alive."

Y/n grimaced "Very much so. How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day," Wanda said confirming what she thought. "After FRIDAY alerted us, Barnes got there first to see you all bruised and bloody."

Y/n could tell Wanda was trying to keep the conversation light which she appreciated. She rolled her eyes and chuckled "You should see the other guy."

"Oh trust me I did." Wanda grinned. "I should probably go get bruce though so I'll be right back."

Wanda left her room. Bruce came in and checked her vitals and drew some blood just to make sure there wasn't anything toxic left in her blood. He said that they couldn't use the cradle because it could harm her further so there would be a scar. But Y/n didn't mind much a little bit of meditation and it would be long gone.

Wanda gave Y/n her phone but had to go because Vision needed some help. Y/n was checking some emails and she heard a little sniffle. She looked up to see a red-eyed Peter peaking into her room. She set down her phone and motioned him over. "Hey, Peter what's wrong?"

Peter seemed a little unsure of himself hesitating to speak. He once again sniffles wiping his face with his shirt. In a little voice, he mumbled, "I was scared you were going to die."

Y/n's heart broke into a million little pieces. She didn't know what to say to him. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't know-how. Y/n did the only thing she knew how. Made a joke out of it. "Oh, Pete you know some half-ass assassin can't get the best of me."

Peter chuckled also while hiccuping. He looked down then back at her. He rushed toward Y/n wrapping his arms around her. Y/n slowly wrapped her arm around him the stayed like that for a few seconds. She rubbed his back and patted it. "Can't breathe. Super strength." She choked out.

Peter pulled back standing next to her bed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly "I forgot sorry."

"Don't worry about it. And hey get some sleep I'm the one in the Med-bay and you look worst than me."

Peter promised he would. He gave her a get-well card that he bought with his aunt May. He turned to leave. Bucky was standing in the doorway. Peter told him he could go in and left.

Bucky walked into the room. Y/n's face lit up when she noticed him standing there. "Well look who it is. My savior."

Bucky gave a small chuckle. He looked her over. He can't get the image of her lying limp in his arms out of his head. He doesn't think he's ever been that scared or panicked in his life. It became blurry to him after she passed out. He vaguely remembers carrying her the few feet to the med bay and Bruce ordering someone to get him out. Funny how someone can change your life within a few months of knowing them.

"How are you doing." He breathed out turning serious. He sat in the chair next to her bed setting her clothes on the tabled next to them. He couldn't explain it he felt like it was her fault she was in here. Even if he hasn't done it personally.

"Good, I'm good. How's Alpine? I know she has separation anxiety."

"Well, last night she somehow got into my room again. And right now I think she's with Wanda. I'm pretty sure she sneaks her extra treats."

Y/n and Bucky continued to talk. She genuinely enjoyed his company. There was a feeling that she didn't want to name that started to open up whenever he came around. They decided to watch a movie. Y/n was sitting crisscross applesauce and Bucky had his feet kicked up onto her bed while laying back in the chair.

"You actually liked this movie," Bucky exclaimed. Y/n got to pick the movie and she picked newsies. She thought it was the right thing to choose considering it's about young boys in New York. Though it was a little before his time it was basic Bucky and Steve.

"Yes, it was my favorite movie of my teen years. Believe it or not, I thought their New Yorker accents were really hot."

Bucky laughed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing "No way. They are so bad. They aren't even accurate."

"Hey don't judge. I can't help what my teenage hormones find attractive." She jokingly kicked his feet and he put his arms up defensively.

"I'm not, I'm not. It's just that I don't see you like that type of girl. Back in my day, they use to associate accents with thugs or gangs."

"It's the 21st-century hun. Times are different." She put her non-injured hand on her hip.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked "So I'm seeing."

The buzzing of Y/n phone interrupted their conversation. The caller ID read Anthony Y/n put up a finger to signal to give her a moment. She clicked the accept button and a nervous sounding Tony picked up "Hey Y/n how are you? I heard what happened."

Y/n? He never uses her real. That only means one thing. He did something that could potentially piss her off. She was out for one day and this is what happens. "What did you do Tony."

"Okay look so don't be mad when I tell you. Meet me in the debriefing room in 10." He hung up before she got the chance to object.

Y/n slide to the edge of the bed. She swung her feet over. She attempted to stand up but when she put pressure on her foot she nearly collapsed. Y/n didn't remember hitting her foot or anything but it must have been when she dove over her desk. Bucky put his hands on her waist to steady her. "Woah you okay there doll?"

"Yeah. Can you like?" She made a turning motion with her hand. Bucky immediately stood up and turned around.

Y/n took off her hospital gown. Buck caught a glance of 2 long scars crossing her stomach and what looked like to be a burn on her hip through the reflection of the window. He quickly turned away out of respect. Y/n slide on her pants and cleared her throat. "I'm done."

Bucky turns around and sees her supporting most of her weight on her right foot. "Do you want me to get you crutches or a wheelchair?"

"Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good super soldier right here?"

She hobbled over to Bucky and wrapped her good arm around his waist. He rolled his eyes at her being difficult but put his arm around her. He wouldn't admit it but he secretly liked it and thought it was sweet.

They got down to the debriefing room. Tony was pacing around the front muttering something to himself. Y/n and Bucky took up the last two seats. Y/n's foot was throbbing so she put it on the table to elevate it. They waited a couple of minutes for him to start. Natasha finally decided to speak up getting annoyed "You want to tell us what this was about before you burn a hole in the carpet."

Tony stopped to look at them and started to pace again "Okay so I didn't tell you guys everything. That meeting I had was with the UN. They are trying to get General Ross to be ahead of the Avengers instead of Nick Fury."

He paused to let them take it in. Some were confused, and a couple were mad. "Wait are they just trying to do this since we didn't sign the Sakovia accords?" Steve said what most were thinking.

"See that's what I said but they were talking about some bullshit about us being unorganized and dangerous. And the only way they'd stop it is if someone took a truth serum and I said Y/n would."

Oh, this is why he told her not to get mad. She had to take a deep breath so she wouldn't pull off her shoe and beat him with it. Is he stupid? He's a genius but he can't think before he speaks. "So how does it work?" Clint asked.

"Well, they will hook you up to a lie detector machine and inject you with the truth serum. The way it works is that every time you lie the serum will start to burn and your heart rate will start to accelerate."

"So what all do I have to lie about." Y/n finally questioned. She was chewing her lip in contemplation. She's pulled off worst than this and has had more on the line than this.

"What I know for sure is that I said you've been with us for 2 years, you can't tell them how you got that cut and anything that can potentially get us into trouble. Also, you can't take any strong pain meds."

"So basically she has to have one hell of a poker face," Bucky concluded.

Y/n sighs and rubs her head."How long do I have."

"12 hours until wheels up." Tony better buy me so many boxes of pizza she thinks.

_

Bucky watched as Y/n sat on the floor crisscross applesauce. Her back is the door and the only light in the room is the light from the hallway in the quinjet. Y/n could hear the soft buzz of Bucky's metal arm with her eyes still close she says "You know you can come in Sarge."

That startles Bucky. He walked into the room and sat on the floor taking up space next to her. He looked at her "I came to tell you we are almost there. Are you nervous?"

Y/n thought for a few seconds. Most people in her position would probably be pissing their pants at this moment. Having to go in front of the United Nations and lie straight to their faces. So she answered truthfully "No, no I'm not."

Bucky was surprised. She was genuine in her answer. If it was him he would be having a near stroke. "Really? Anyway so why do meditate it doesn't actually help with anything."

"Actually it does. It helps with my heart rate and it helps me heal faster."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectingly obviously not believing her.

She kicked out her leg and lifted the pant leg to her suit. The bruise was gone and she rotated her foot and wiggle her toes to prove she wasn't in any pain.

Y/n grabbed his shoulder as a crutch to help her get up and grabbed her heels. Bucky looked up at her. "You know I can't seem to figure you out."

Y/n paused and pursed her lips in thought "Somethings are better off left as mysteries." She patted his shoulder and walked out.

_

Wanda, Natasha, and Y/n broke off from the rest of the Avengers, having to go to the medical room so she could get a mini medical exam.

The girls walk through security. Natasha dropped all of her weapons in a bin so she could pick them up later. They put a device around Wanda's neck so she couldn't use her powers. Y/n could see how uncomfortable it made her. She walked over to Wanda and whispered "I feel bad you have to wear that. You didn't have to come."

Wanda looked at her and have a small sad smile "What you're about to do is worst than this. It's the least I can do for you helping us."

Y/n nodded to her. Security officers escorted them to the medical room. They had Y/n sit on a bed. They made her pee in a cup, took her blood, and checked her medical history. Natasha was giving her advice. While she knew most things it was still nice having someone coach her through and remind her of it.

When they finished Wanda went to join the rest of the Avengers. Natasha walked her to the door she adjusted Y/n's suit "You've got this. We'll be supporting you in the crowd."

"Thank you Nat for everything really." She hugged her and Natasha gave Y/n's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Y/n took a deep breath. She stepped into the room. The room was a half-circle shape with large windows behind it. In the back were journalists and reporters. And in the front were the UN personnel were located. Y/n walked past the Avengers and took her seat in the middle of the room.

Y/n could feel everyone's eyes on her. She got blinded momentarily from the flashes of the cameras. She looked over to the Avengers. Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Steve at the end. Bucky in the middle. And Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision on the other end. Wanda gave her 2 thumbs up and Y/n smiled back at her.

Staff came over and started to unpack and hook her up to the lie detector machine. They took off the jacket to her suit and connected wires to three fingers on her right hand. They put a blood pressure cuff on her left tricep and inflated it. Ross stood up and cleared his throat being the room's attention on him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'm General Ross and I will be doing the questioning on the behalf of the UN."

He turned his gaze to Y/n. "We're going to test the lie detector first."  Y/n nodded to him and he began.

"Is your legal name Y/n Y/l/n?"

"Yes." Y/n states.

"True." The man in the chair next to her says.

He looked down at the paper he had in his hand looking for his next question. "Very well. Were you born Y/B/D 1995?"

"Yes."

"True."

"Are you nervous?"

Natasha's words come back to Y/n. Lie once. Lie about something small. So they don't get suspicious. Y/n let her heart rate pick up a bit and purposely avoided eye contact. "No."

"Lie."

"It's okay to be nervous. God knows I would." Ross joked a few people chuckled and Y/n had to physically hold back an eye roll. He thinks he got her but in reality, he's right where she wanted.

He nodded to the staff and they walked over to her and began to prep her. They cleaned a small area of her arm with an alcohol pad. "This might hurt a bit." One muttered.

They stuck the needle into her arm and injected the serum. At first, it felt cool but then it hit her all at once it felt like someone poured a pan of grease on her. Y/n's skin was on fire, she bit her cheek so hard it nearly drew blood.

Bucky watched as Y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If it was anything like the Super Soldier serum he knew it burn. She opened her eyes and if he didn't witness it he wouldn't even know it happened seconds ago.

General Ross walked back to the front and began to speak "We are ready to proceed. Did it hurt? I've never tried it."

"Yes." Like a bitch.

"What role do you play for the Avengers? Tony mentioned you've been there for 2 years."

"I'm their Chief Physician." The second part of his sentence was a statement so she missed lying by an inch.

"True."

He asked questions like that for a while or worded them differently. The questions were getting repetitive and Y/n was getting bored and impatient. She hasn't had to lie yet not that she wanted to. Especially not when she has the truth serum from hell injected in her veins.

"Have the Avengers ever put you in any unnecessary danger?" Ross questioned.

"Never." She replied trying not to bounce her leg.

"True."

"Tell me Miss Y/l/n how did you get that cut? It looks pretty deep." He paused seemingly watching for her reaction.

"My cat. She has some pretty mean claws." Y/n stated without missing a beat. She felt the burn of the serum. It wasn't as bad as the injection but damn did it fucking hurt. Despite that Y/n kept a straight face starting to get annoyed with him. She could hear the flutter of the cameras.

"True."

"Would you consider Miss Maximoff unstable in any way, shape, or form?"

Y/n has to stop her eyes from going wide. What the hell kind of question was that besides rude. It's like he wants her to lash out at him. "No."

The man watches the monitor for a few seconds "True." He finally says.

"Would you consider Mr. Barnes dangerous?"

The audacity of this man. You want to see someone dangerous? Let's see how dangerous I am when I choke you out with this cord that's wrapped around my finger- "No"

"True."

"Are you aware of his past?"

"Very much so. And that where it should stay the past. I don't know what you're trying to get at general."

"True."

"Were you aware that we are starting a search for Lilith and anyone with information on her that doesn't come forward will be sent to the raft? And were you aware that if we find her we are ordered to kill on sight?"

Y/n gets a bitter taste in her mouth. This cannot be happening. She can't freak out right now. She clenched her jaw "No I was not aware of either."

"True."

"Very well that's all." Ross returned to his seat among the UN.

The staff came over and unhooked her from the machine. Y/n felt like she could finally breathe. She stood up and walked out without glancing back. The Avengers did the same meanwhile getting swarmed with paparazzi.

Part 8

My mini taglist

@theashlynbarnes @writingonabrokenwall

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Amoreena meets Jo, Jo shares her experience with the foster homes (tw self-harm and child abuse), and Spencer shares his shitty childhood with her. They bond, he loves her more than he thought possible, his dreams of a big happy family are coming true.

word count: 4.8k

from the beginning <3

His phone is ringing at 7:50 and all he does is groan, forgetting Y/N’s agreement with Amoreena. His wife reached over his face and towards the phone, picking up with an overly cheerful tone for a pregnant woman who was up until 3 am.

“Hello sweet girl, how was your sleep?”

“Ugh,” she makes a weird face as the morning nausea kicks in and she tries to swallow it down. “Yeah? Oh, I’m so glad, dad and I are just waking up. We have another big surprise for you today… I know honey there’s always a lot going on, but this one is a good one I promise!”

“Can I go talk to her?” Spencer asks, “alone?”

“Dad’s going to come and see you while mommy has a shower, okay? I love you too, bye,” she smiles as she hangs up and passes the phone back to him.

They kiss quickly before separating, Spencer throws on the same clothes from the beach last night before heading down the hall towards Amoreena’s room. He knocks quietly before entering, seeing her sitting in a queen bed with 2 cats.

“Taylor let Olivia and Benjamin stay in here last night, she said they usually sleep in here anyway!” She was whispering, but it was still loud for her this early.

He sat on the edge of her bed and gave her a big hug, “how was your night?”

“Really amazing, Dad, Taylor is my best friend now,” she’s completely serious, “I hope mom’s not too upset about that, I guess we could share her…”

“That’s a nice thought, are you good at sharing?”

“I think so,” she nods with a serious face.

“Good, because there’s a new person who’s coming to live with us. She’s going to be kind of sad for a while and I’ll be spending a lot of time with her too,” he watches her face as she listens, confused but fine with it.

“Who is she?”

“Did your mom tell you how she made you?”

She nods, “she said sometimes people with penises donate sperm to help people have babies, and you were the one who donated for me,” she gives him a run down so seriously that it makes him laugh like the 7-year-old.

“Yeah, exactly, well I also helped 2 other families make babies,” he says softly, petting her hair as she understands what that means.

“So I have more siblings?”

“Yep, 2 sisters and a brother,” he smiles as she starts to bounce with excitement. “Josephine is 12, almost 13, and she’s coming to live with us.”

“Where is her mom?” She asks, he knew she would.

“Her mom and dad were in an accident, they died and she looked for me because she didn’t want to be alone anymore,” he knows it’s a hard topic, and that she understands death after losing her gg, but it’s still hard.

“Oh, that’s sad,” she frowns, moving in to hug him again, she keeps her head pressed to his shoulder. “I hope she’s okay, is she here now too?”

“She is, but I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, she’s a teenager and they sometimes sleep in longer than you would, like when Henry was over and slept until noon,” he has all his kids profiled in his minds and it’s actually more helpful than a hindrance.

“Does she like Taylor?”

He knew that one was coming too, “she’s a huge fan, she cried meeting her just like mom.”

“Is she going to call my mom her mom now?”

“I don’t think so, would that upset you?” He’s worried for the answer, he had the same jealous tendencies growing up. Hell, he still has them.

“No, she needs a mom, I would be very sad without mine, I know she needs one too,” she looked at him like it was a stupid question because of course, all kids need a mom and her mom happened to be the best.

“That’s really nice of you, she knows all about you and she’s really excited to move in with us, maybe you can help her decorate her room?” He isn’t sure what Jo will think, but he knows it would be good for bonding.

“Can we see if she’s awake? Wait, she’s a she right? Miss Kennedy said sometimes people look like girls but they don’t like to feel like girls, so we use they,” Amoreena was so worried about being a good sister he didn’t know why he worried so much.

“Well, I’m not sure, Jo hasn’t told me but you can ask?”

She shot right out of bed, still in her dress from last night as she ran to the door, “come on, what room is it?”

“Right there, knock nicely,” he says as he joins her in the hall, pointing to the room across from her.

She knocked 3 times, hearing a small ‘yeah?’ From the other side before opening it, “good morning!” Amoreena cheered.

“Amoreena!” Jo smiled as she got out of bed and ran over to her. She dropped to her knees so they’d be the same height and wrapped her up in her arms.

They hugged like this was a reunion and not an introduction, they held on to one another so tightly they both squeezed their eyes shut and held their breath. He knew that kind of hug, that was a hug you gave when you deeply loved the person you were hugging.

It made him want to cry, again.

Jo pulled back from her and Amoreena immediately held her face in her hands, observing her. “Yep, you’re my sister,” she smiled as she saw her nose.

That same perfect little button that was slightly angled towards the sky, she booped it lightly. Jo booped her right back.

“I am, it’s pretty cool getting to share a dad with you cause now I get to meet Taylor Swift, how the heck did we get so lucky?” Jo talks to her like she’s used to being around kids, finding the wonder in every word and saying the whole sentence with enthusiasm.

She turns to him, both his girls making the same face as they looked at him in the doorway, “how did you meet Taylor, dad?”

“You remember Uncle Dave? He came over for the barbecue and talked to poppy bob about winemaking all night?”

“Yeah, he’s Italian,” Amoreena remembered his funny accent and how she called him Mario.

“His daughter is Taylor’s friend, so Taylor sent me an email asking to meet you,” he couldn’t help but smile as she did.

“So you guys really are knights at the FBI, huh?”

“Yeah, but my armour got too rusty so now I’m going to guard the princess only, no more battles for me,” he was happy to make it magical, to turn the terribleness of it all into something she could be proud of.

He feels cold hands reaching under the back of his shirt then as he jumps, Y/N is wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his back, “your armour is fine, it just needs some polish.”

“They’re kinda gross, you’ll have to get used to that,” Amoreena says, pressing her lips together awkwardly as she looks at Jo.

“It’s nice though, it makes you feel like love is real,” Jo smiled back, “not many kids have happy families.”

“You do now, okay?” Amoreena took her cheeks in her hands again, something she must have learned from Y/N. “My family is your family and we are the best family, you’re going to have so much fun with us, can I help you decorate your room?”

Jo cried, laughing lightly as she nodded, “that would be cool, maybe we can get bunk beds for random sleepovers?”

Amoreena shot her eyes to her mom, “can we?”

“That would be cool,” Y/N agreed, “we’ll go to Ikea on Friday when I’m not working, okay?”

“And this weekend we can buy some paint for your room?” Spencer added, “you guys can plan all week together.”

“Yes!” Amoreena cheered, hugging Jo again.

Jo held her gently, resting her cheek against the top of Amoreena’s head with a small smile. She looked genuinely happy, peaceful like she belonged somewhere again.

Right then Amoreena’s eyes are darting right to him, “It’s fathers day!” She screams, way too loud for 8 am in someone else’s home. Thank god Taylor was on the other side of the mansion.

“Oh my god,” Amoreena smacked her forehead with her little hand, “I was so carried away with the wedding I didn’t pack your present, dad! I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you covered little miss,” Y/N smiled at her, “It’s in my purse!”

Amoreena pushed past them in the doorway and ran to their room in search of said purse. Probably emptying it out on the bed and making a huge mess, but it was fine.

Y/N took a moment to kiss his cheek, “good morning, happy father’s day.”

“Thank you,” he blushed, turning to face her and hold her close, “I can feel you staring Jo, come here.”

She comes skipping right over, wrapping her arms around them both and resting her head on Spencer’s side. For a 12-year-old she was tall, a lot taller than Henry was, that’s for sure.

“Hey!” Amoreena butts in, “let me in,” she pushed into the middle of the hug to steal all the warmth, “happy father’s day, dad.”

“Happy father’s day,” Jo added with a soft smile, “thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, you’re the best dad in the world, Jo you should see how he reads with his mind, he doesn’t even need to look at the books at bedtime,” Amoreena bragged, pulling back from all of them then.

Spencer wiped the tears from his face and pretended he wasn’t crying, overwhelmed by love just like he told Jo to expect. “I love you guys, I’m so glad I helped make you both, you’re the best kids a dad could ask for.”

“Here,” Amoreena hands him a wrapped present.

It’s a handmade book, blue construction paper bound with green ribbon in little loops and covered in a thin layer of tissue paper from the present he got her last week. He carefully removes the tissue and hands it back to her, “do you still want it for dresses?”

“Sure,” she takes it with a smile, “I wrote this for you after a dream I had, Miss Kennedy helped me write it all and reword it a bit. But it’s all from my brain.”

“Spencer’s little women,” he reads and then his heartbeat almost stops when he sees the bottom, “by Amoreena Reid.”

“We can go sit in the living room while you read it to us?” Y/N offered, taking the girl's hands and leading them all down the hallway.

Taylor’s house was full of floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing them to watch the sunrise over the ocean as they cuddled up on the couch as a family. Him and his little women.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a beautiful princess who had a broken heart. She promised to hide away from the townspeople until she gathered all the pieces again,” Spencer read the first sentence and knew he wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole book.

“You know, I think it would be better if you read this to me Amoreena,” he asks her gently, “I want to know it from your voice first.”

“Okay,” she bounces up from where she cuddled into her mother to take the book from his hand, sitting straight as she got ready to read.

“Slowly, but surely, the pieces came back to her one by one as the people felt the need to search for her, they missed seeing her smile as she ruled alongside her parents, the king and queen until her heart was fixed.

A little girl, Lady Amoreena, arrived like a gift. A fairy godmother handing a small child to the princess to raise and love forever and ever, they were best friends more than anything.

But the princess’s baby girl made it her mission to fix the rest of her heart as she grew up seeing her mom frown, questing for princes and kings, even another princess to come and fill that last missing spot of her heart. To make their family love grew as the cracks from where they separated were healed.

She set off on her daily adventure, running off past the gates on the way to the willow tree, excited to see what wonders the pond of youth brought to her this time. Surprised to find a knight, his broken and rusty armour fallen on the ground, he was wrapped in weeds, he had been trapped for too long to remember.

Amoreena cut the vines off him with her sword, “you’re free now, sir knight.”

“How can I ever repay you?” The kind man with the same nose as her asked.

“Meet the princess, tell her about your battles, make her laugh and you can stay with us,” she gives him one final quest. His last ever duty.

The princess smiles as soon as they meet. He wins her over without even trying, he completes their family and makes all the cracks in her heart fuse back together. Gold light shines from her as she’s healed, completed by the love of a family she never knew she needed.

The love didn’t end there… the knight and the princess knew lady Amoreena would be like her mom when she grew up. The possibility of a sad and broken heart as she got older, so they made her 8 more siblings, her group of sisters to keep her company during the happily ever after part.

“Sir Spencer, where are all your little women?” The king of the land asked, seeing the knight and the princess all alone on the path, old and slow as they walked.

“Down by the pond, it’s story day!”

He knew that’s where they’d always be, at their pond with a book, braiding each other's hair, weaving flower crowns and chasing each other through the wildflowers that replaced the vines that once held him down.

Free, healed and happy. Spencer and his little women healed the princess, allowing her to take the role as Queen, like her grandma always wanted for her.”

“There isn’t a 'the end'?” Y/N’s voice questions lightly as Spencer cries too hard to even respond.

She was the most amazing child in the whole world and he didn’t know what he did to deserve her. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her so tight she was smacking his arm to let her go with a laugh, “I want to add more to it when I’m older, like GG’s book.”

“You can write one for all your sisters,” Y/N smiles at her softly, “you know, gg only wrote Amoreena because you came to her in a dream?”

She nodded, “that’s why I started writing this book for dad because I had a dream about him reading to all of us, he was so old it was funny.”

“How old?” He asks, remembering his reflection from his own dream.

“Like poppy, you had a white beard!”

“What did we talk about?” He doesn’t know why he wants to know so badly but he’s desperate to know if their dream was the same.

“It was story day, you and mom were late, but you said, ‘I’d never miss a Saturday with my little women,’” she smiles, “I’m so glad you’re my dad.”

She holds him back just as tight this time, snuggling into his chest as he breathes her in. His first little baby, even if she was the middle kid now, she was his baby, he couldn’t even imagine holding someone even smaller than her soon.

—

They take a quick trip to target in the morning, needing to get some things for Jo and Y/N really, really wanted chocolate-covered cranberries, making sure he knew that she would kill him if he didn’t bring them back to her. Finally having those pregnancy mood swings he was expecting.

Jo is quick to pick out some summer clothes and a bathing suit for the day as well as toiletries and anything else she wanted because Spencer said so. He was going to spoil her because he didn’t know what else to do. This is what he wanted from his dad, someone to see something, think of him and just get it to make him smile.

She saw some purple bedding that she liked, so it ended up in the cart. And then she needed some new pillow, and some fitted sheets… oh and those curtains are nice… and before they knew it they had $300 worth of things for her bedroom in the back of Y/N’s car.

Jo pressed her lips together awkwardly as they sat in the front seats of the car, he looked over at her and smiled, making her laugh, “this is the best father’s day.”

“I’m supposed to be getting you gifts today!”

“You are a gift, Jo,” he doesn’t mean to get sappy, but he can’t help the love he feels for her already.

“Drive before I cry, dude,” she turns to look out the window. “Are we going to have a 'ground rules and behaviour' speech like all the foster parents do? I have a feeling you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He starts the car then, pulling out of the lot and starting the 40-minute car ride back with her, “how do they normally set the rules in the foster homes?”

“They pay for my phone bill with the money provided for me each month and they sometimes get me the groceries I want for lunches and stuff but they mostly kept the money for themselves. I’m only allowed on the internet for an hour a day, homework has to be done in front of their eyes at the kitchen table, no food after 7 pm, lights off and no walking around by 9,” she gave the rundown and it made Spencer’s stomach turn.

“I will pay for your phone bill, you don't need to worry about that. We can even get you a new one when we get home. Y/N has great internet and every streaming service available, you don’t have a time limit here. Just promise me you’ll go outside sometimes?” He reaches a hand out to hold her’s while driving, letting her know he means what is coming next.

“I trust you have a way of life you’re used to, and I’m not going to change that on you, if you want to share things with me and be open and honest, I’m always here and I will never judge you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide things from me. And that being said, I trust you enough to use the internet safely, and not hack anything without good reason anymore?”

Derek was right, it’s surprisingly easy to be a dad. All you have to do is love them and be there for them.

“Okay, then I think you should know,” she takes a deep breath and a pause. “I’m pretty sure I like girls too, I never got to tell my mom that but I’m sure she knew, and I’m kind of scared to put my bathing suit on when I get home.”

“First of all, I’m proud of you,” he squeezes her hand 3 times, and she does it right back with a smile. “Secondly, why? Did you not get one you liked? I was fine buying any of them for you.”

“I have a lot of scars on my legs, and I don’t want to scare Amoreena,” she’s really ashamed of herself and Spencer understands it.

He rolls his sleeve up and extends his arm for her to see his very faded track marks, “I was drugged on a case once, I had an addiction after. The scars fade over time, but I also haven’t shown Amoreena my bare arms yet.”

“Mine are pretty faded now too, it’s been a few months, they look more like stretch marks,” she smiled at his honesty, feeling safer with him.

“If she asks, you can say it was from a cat at the foster home. She’ll think about Cinderella and the evil stepmother's cat, and then completely forget why she asked,” he assures her, knowing Amoreena like the back of his hand now.

“Lucifer,” Jo smiles, “I was like her as a kid too, always making up stories and finding new movies to be obsessed with. I have ADHD, by the way, but I’m un-medicated cause my last foster home didn’t listen to the school’s diagnosis,” she says it like it’s not a big deal.

His blood starts to boil at the thought of someone not taking care of her, “excuse me?”

“Yeah, and when I asked for a therapist they said no to that too, I was ‘fine’ apparently and they settled for a dead parents support group so that Colin could have a coffee while I sat there,” she’s oblivious to how terrible it is.

“Make me a list of all the things you want, I mean everything down to the most niche interest or therapy technique that you’ve researched and I will help you with whatever it is,” Spencer is furious at the conditioning she’s experienced to think this is okay.

“You don’t have to, dad, I’m okay now,” she lies and he can tell.

“You don’t have to be, believe me, I cry almost every night to Y/N about things I thought I had recovered from. If you want to talk to someone because you think it will help, or if you want medicine because you feel like it’ll help you focus better or just be happier, I’m here to help you get that.”

She goes quiet, staring at their hands where he’s still squeezing her palm. She rubs her thumb along the skin softly, “did your mom ever hurt you?”

“Only when she wasn’t really there in her own mind,” he presses his lips together right after, he’s never told anyone about it.

“Did your dad?”

“Emotionally, but he wasn’t there long enough to lay a hand on me.”

She nods at the response, “my dad was evil, I think he killed my mom in that ‘accident’, but on purpose.”

“I thought my dad was a murderer once too, but it was actually my dad’s friend,” he isn’t sure why he’s telling her everything, but she deserved to know.

“There was a pedophile in our town who killed this boy, Riley, and my mom told him about a man who was watching me like I was next. And Riley’s dad killed him, but I was so young my mind tried to think it was my dad who did it all.”

“Your old job must have really messed you up inside too, huh?” She tries to laugh it off, scared of his past but intrigued at the same time, he just nods at her observation.

“I have a friend, her name is Penelope, her parents died when she was a little bit older than you. She snuck out and they went to look for her, and they were in a car crash,” he makes sure she’s comfortable, her hand is still in his and her thumb is still moving over his skin.

“Like you, she got into hacking, the FBI had to hire her because she was so good she became a threat, you’d really like her,” he says, turning to look at her quickly, he loves the smile on her face.

“I’d love to meet her,” she smiled, “thank you, I wish you could have always been my dad.”

It breaks his heart a little, “well, you have me forever now.”

—

“Two questions,” Y/N’s voice approaches as she walks towards the trunk of her car.

Jo and Spencer are digging through all the shopping bags trying to find all the things that she needs for the afternoon, leaving the rest for the ride home.

“Here,” Spencer hands her the chocolate-covered cranberries, “king-sized bag.”

“I love you,” she smiles as she takes it, “the second question, how are the suitcases going to fit in there now? We have two kids to bring home, they’re going to be squished.”

“I don’t mind,” Jo smiles, “one time they didn’t have room for me in a car so I sat in the trunk for 15 minutes.”

Spencer wrapped her up in his arms, “every time you tell me a story about what has happened to you, I want to kill someone.”

She laughs, holding him back gently, “believe me, I was an asshole to them, they got what they deserved.”

“What did you do?” Y/N worries about what she’s capable of, Spencer can tell.

“I called the tax people and said they have been claiming foster kids as dependents and now they might have tax fraud charges coming their way,” she seemed very proud of herself. “I would never hurt someone, but I have no problem getting them in trouble.”

Y/N extended her fist, bumping it off Jo’s with a smile, “as you should! Now, come on, let’s go get ready for the beach.”

Jo skipped inside with Y/N, their arms linked as they did so. Spencer couldn’t believe this was his life now. He closed the trunk with a slam, picking up the bag of things he set aside before joining them inside.

“Surprise!!!!” Amoreena screamed as soon as he walked through the door.

There was a hand-drawn Happy Father’s Day banner hanging from the staircase and purple balloons all over the place.

“Happy father’s day!!!” They all cheered for him, even Taylor’s mom was there now, smiling at the display of affection.

Amoreena and Jo came running up to him, wrapping their arms around him and holding him close, nothing felt real. “Can you pinch me?” He asked them with a small smile.

He didn’t think they’d do it, but even Y/N walked over and started pinching him all over. Amoreena pinched his leg, Jo pinched his belly button and Y/N, she pinched his cute little butt as she pressed a kiss to his blushing cheek. “You’re very real, so are we.”

“I love you guys,” Spencer reminds them, holding them all as close as he can for just a moment, “okay, enough sappiness, let’s go to the beach!”

Amoreena and Y/N are already in their swimsuits under their sundresses, Jo, on the other hand, picked out some trunks and a tank-style swim top, hiding her scares just enough that she felt comfortable getting in the sand and building a castle with Amoreena.

Y/N laid on the towel beside Spencer in the shade, Taylor and her mom were playing scrabble on the picnic table, her dad was cooking up burgers on the grill. It was serene, it was perfect, they were a little family and it made absolutely no sense to him how it all worked out so well, but he wouldn’t change any of it.

“Look how big it is after lunch,” Y/N grabbed his attention, sticking her belly out as far as it could go, “I’m going to get so huge again, at least this time I’ll be the biggest when it’s cold out.”

“Are you comfortable? Do you need more sunscreen or water?” Spencer worried, making her smile as she pushed her sunglasses up and turned to him.

“I am fantastic, thank you, cutie.”

He leans in to kiss her gently, but she wraps her arms around him and pulls him down on top of her. Kissing him like she just rescued him from the sea and hasn’t seen him for years.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Just sitting up as he brushes her hair off her face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she reminds him with another soft smile.

“I missed mother’s day with you by only a few days, but you should know you’re the best mother in the whole world,” he whispered, wanting to share his day with her because, without her, he wouldn’t be a father.

She pulls him into another kiss, hands resting on his cheeks as she breathes in deeply through her nose. It’s like she’s taking the soul out of his body, he's a part of her now forever and always. He never wants to be anywhere else.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

[khaleesiofalicante]

PROMPT #1

Based on this prompt - Malec au, University students. Alec is a med student, Magnus fashion design. Alec is trying to study anatomy for an exam but is struggling to remind the bones and ligaments of the body. Magnus offers to be his human naked (with boxers because 'you know how we get magnus') model.

“Why did I choose biology again?” Alec asked.

“Is that a rhetorical question or do you want me to answer that?” Magnus questioned, lying on his bed, his sketch papers and pencils sprawled all around him.

“It is,” Alec replied. “But why would I do this to myself!!”

“Listen to me,” Magnus pinned a pencil behind his ear. “Because you come from a family of surgeons, and you want to make them proud? But I think it’s mostly because you genuinely enjoy healing people and saving lives?”

“Ugh,” Alec groaned. “Why did I have to be such a good guy?”

Magnus laughed.

“You know, I should have been an arsonist or something. I have pretty good aim,” Alec pondered out loud. “But no. I had to choose this instead. Stupid, Alec!”

“Alright. Alright,” Magnus sat up on his bed. “What’s wrong, you drama queen?”

“I have an anatomy test on Friday,” Alec sighed. “And I can’t seem to remember all the names.”

“That’s it?” Magnus asked.

“What do you mean that’s it?” Alec demanded. “Do you know we have 206 bones in the human body? Why do we even need so many??”

“I hope that’s a rhetorical question too,” Magnus chuckled. “Considering you’re going to be a surgeon and all.”

“At this rate, the only way I’m getting into a hospital is as a patient because of all the stress,” Alec closed his book dramatically. “Please make sure they have a closed casket at my funeral.”

“Okay. I’m sure it’s not that bad-”

“206 bones, Magnus!” Alec yelled. “206 bones! Why couldn’t we just have like 12 or something?”

“That would make us very grotesque,” Magnus grimaced. “And then I won’t be able to design us all these pretty clothes.”

“How is your project coming?” Alec asked, not wanting to hog the conversation. “You finished with the design?”

“Nope,” Magnus giggled and helped up a piece of paper. “But I did do a nice sketch of Harry and Draco.”

“He has his mother’s eyes,” Alec giggled back.

“Alright, we got this,” Magnus jumped off the bed. “How many do you know for now?”

“Let’s see,” Alec pouted. “First, you have the paired bones in the skull. They make a total of 28 bones. Nasal, Lacrimal, Maxillary, Zygomatic, Temporal, Palatine, Parietal, Malleus, Incus and Stapes.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You could be naming different kinds of spiders for all I know.”

“Why in the world would I know eleven kinds of spiders?” Alec rolled his eyes.

“Okay that’s valid,” Magnus shrugged. “And then what?”

“Well, then we have the torso bones – which are basically the ribs. There are 52 bones there. And I got those covered.”

“See?” Magnus patted him on the shoulder and Alec shuddered at the touch. “It’s not that bad. You are already know like most of them.”

“No,” Alec said. “I need to memorize the appendicular skeleton.”

“How many there?” Magnus asked.

“126,” Alec groaned.

“Yikes,” Magnus winced. “Well…Maybe it has one of those anagrams? Like you know a song that helps you remember these kind of stuff?”

“For 126 bones?” Alec rolled his eyes. “It’s gonna be bloody long song.”

“Hmmm,” Magnus put his hands on his hips. “Do you have one of those skeleton thingies?”

“A what?”

“A skeleton thingy,” Magnus repeated. “Medical students have them, don’t they? I think the visualization helps you memorize the bones or something.”

“Oh, those,” Alec said in realization. “Yeah those are expensive as fuck.”

“Isn’t there one in the biology lab?” Magnus asked. “I swear I’ve seen Simon practicing his flirting skills on one of those.”

“Yeah, we are not allowed to borrow them,” Alec muttered. 

“Oh,” Magnus frowned.

“But we could steal it!!!” Alec said suddenly. 

“Alec, no!”

“Think about it,” Alec said encouragingly. “If we don’t get caught, then I can study for my exam. If we get caught, then I don’t have to sit for my exam at all. It’s a win-win, Magnus!”

“Okay nobody is stealing anything,” Magnus showed a threatening finger. “You are not getting suspended again. I can’t let Raphael move into our dorm room. He is an ass. And he doesn’t appreciate my fashion sense like you do.”

“But you look good in everything you wear,” Alec said quietly.

“Right?” Magnus asked. “I’m not losing this. Nope. Okay I think have a solution for you.”

“You are willing to sacrifice your life so I can practice on your skeleton?” Alec asked dryly.

“Let's hope it doesn’t have to come to that,” Magnus laughed nervously. “But how about you just practice on my regular body?”

Alec blinked. “What?”

Magnus just took off his shirt in one move and Alec coughed loudly. “I mean, you can’t see my bones. But you can probably feel them.”

“I...What?”

Magnus reached out, grabbed Alec’s hand and placed it above his chest. “Which one is that?”

“Hhhh,” Alec said.

“What’s that?”

“That’s the pectoral girdle,” Alec cleared his throat. “This is your clavicle. And this is the scapula. And right here, in the middle of your chest is the sternum.”

“Sounds sexy,” Magnus chuckled. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Are you…Are you sure you want to do this?” Alec asked hesitantly.

“I don’t mind,” Magnus shrugged and then looked alarmed. “Do you…Do you not want to-”

“No. No,” Alec said quickly. “I do want your help. I just…I just wanted to know if you’re comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” Magnus smiled.

“Okay. Alright. Then let’s do this,” Alec smiled back.

“If we are going to do this, then let’s do this properly,” Magnus announced and took off his jeans without another word.

He was wearing tight black boxers underneath. Not the cute ones like Alec wore.

These were sexy.

Who wears sexy underwear on a Wednesday afternoon? Sexy underwear is only for special occasions, goddamnit!

“Oh god,” Alec gulped.

“Pardon?” Magnus asked, throwing his jeans on his bed.

“I said Thank God!” Alec corrected quickly.

“We got this,” Magnus grinned and laid down on Alec’s bed. Now it’s gonna smell like fucking sandalwood.

Alec already had trouble sleeping at night knowing that Magnus slept just a couple of meters away. This was not going to make things better.

“I’m waiting, Dr. Lightwood!” Magnus called.

Alec bit his lip. This man knew exactly what buttons to push.

Just be a professional, Alec. You just gotta be a professional.

Mercifully there was a knock on the door.

“Hold on,” Alec held up a finger.

He opened the door and sighed.

“What?”

“Can I borrow your notes from Monday?” Jace asked. “I need to-”

He blinked at Magnus and before he could speak, Alec pushed him out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“Um, why is Magnus half-naked on your bed?” Jace asked.

He couldn’t tell the truth. He knew Jace had to study too. What if he wanted to study with Alec?

Nope. Not happening.

“He is…sunbathing,” Alec answered.

“Inside the room???”

“He doesn’t want to go outside,” Alec explained, trying to sound casual. “He is…shy.”

“He can’t go outside,” Jace said incredulously. “Alec, it’s fucking snowing.”

Fuck. One look at Magnus and Alec had literally forgotten all sense of time and place.

“Exactly,” Alec said, trying to cover up. “That’s why he is sunbathing in the room.”

“But there is no sun. It’s hidde-”

“Don’t you have an exam to study for?” Alec demanded. “I’ll email you the notes. Now, off you go!”

Jace gave him a suspicious look before walking off. “I will get to the bottom of this!!”

Alec rolled his eyes and went back inside the dorm.

“The doctor will see you now,” Alec managed with a straight face before bursting out with laugher.

“Get over here, you dork!” Magnus laughed with him.

Alec sat down on the bed, his body now only inches away from Magnus’.

Alec hesitated. But Magnus reached out and took his palm and placed it on his abdomen.

“And what is this called?” Magnus asked.

Alec’s breath hitched.

Alec couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He couldn’t believe this was real.

Magnus’ skin felt warm – even though it was apparently snowing outside.

He knew he was supposed to focus on the bones. But Alec couldn’t help but focus on all of it.

The line of sunburn just above the waistband of his boxers.

The birthmark right next to his bellybutton.

The way his stomach moved up and down with every breath, the movement almost hypnotic to the eyes.

Alec was so focused (or out of focus?) that he didn’t even realize he hadn’t spoken in over a minute.

“You don’t have to feel weird,” Magnus said gently. “You’re my friend.”

Alec’s hand moved away as if Magnus’ skin had burned him.

Magnus thought of him as a friend.

Magnus was just helping out a friend.

This wasn’t reality. It was just another fantasy.

“I think I’ll go study in the lab,” Alec said, picking up his books.

“What? Why?” Magnus sat up hastily. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Alec said in frustration. “I just…I’m gonna go.”

“Alec, wait,” Magnus said. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“This is…This is weird.”

“I don’t mind you touching m-”

“I don’t want to touch you,” Alec snapped.

Magnus flinched and then immediately got off Alec’s bed. “Right. Of course.”

“Magnus, that’s not what I-”

“I heard you loud and clear,” Magnus replied. “You can stay here. I’ll go out.”

“Magnus, hold on-”

“It’s fine,” Magnus said shortly from his own bed, already picking up his jeans.

Alec grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “I don’t want to touch you. Not like this.”

“Like what?” Magnus demanded.

“Like a friend.”

Magnus blinked.

“When I touch you for the first time, I don’t want it to be like this,” Alec said quietly. “I don’t want to be memorizing stuff. Fuck, I don’t even want to think. I just want to lose myself in you.”

Magnus’ eyes softened. “Well, why didn’t you say that before?”

Alec tried to think of a reason. A proper reason.

He couldn’t think of any.

“Cause I’m an idiot,” Alec said lamely.

Magnus looked at him for a minute then and Alec wondered what he was thinking. He is probably making a plan to get out of here, Alec thought.

“Take off your sweater,” Magnus said.

“I-” Alec blinked. “What?”

“It’s for a project for my design class,” Magnus shrugged. “I want to analyse the fabric. Take it off.”

“But you hate my clothes,” Alec said in confusion. “You always criticize how ug-”

“Alexander!!” Magnus put his hands up in frustration.

And then it clicked.

“Right,” Alec said, taking off his sweater. “Of course. Happy to help. Would this project by any chance require you to analyze ratty sweatpants?”

The smile Magnus gave him in return was enough to make up for the hidden sun outside.

[spookysanta]

The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke. 

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

*

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

Tags (DM to be removed): @lady-x-red  @justtwhst  @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate​  @cyberdoshee  @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

[monsoonblooms12]

Bittersweet (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: OH Book 1 Chapter 4 written from Dolores Hudson's POV

A/N: I really wanted to do this because Dolores is such an amazing person and this chapter is one of my favourites in the entire OH series. This picks up from the office fire and ends at Dolores's death.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤍

Characters: Dolores Hudson, Ethan Ramsey, f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Pooja Sharma (f!MC)

Word Count: around 2.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff then Angst

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters and some of the dialogues. I only own my MC.

Triggers: Complications in pregnancy, Few Curse Words, Character Death

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 23: Classic/Classical

Other Works

Clickety-clack!

Dolores's fingers danced on the keyboards in a swift motion as she strived to complete this last email and get home and have a sleep that she missed yesterday due to late-night cravings.

Around her, a chaos of whispers spread as her colleagues engaged in mindless chitter-chatter of the last hour before the end of the office day.

A few nudges of Hey, Dolores! and its variants reached her, but she steered past them, focusing completely on her work.

Just one more line anndd,

Done!

She hit the send and the ping of the 'sent' notification calmed her overworked nerves.

Come on, Lil tadpole, let's file these papers, get ice cream and go home.

She fondly rubbed her belly. 26 weeks in and yet the fact that she was going to become Mamma Froggy was overwhelming and exciting.

She got the prints and in a hurry, nearly got a paper cut.

Careful there! She cajoled herself and started filing those messy sheets of her hard work of the day.

She was almost done just as-

Waaahhh!

The blazing sound, very much like a siren's, reached all of them, leading to the eruption of panicked commotion between all of them.

They had been run through the fire drill so many times that they didn't need to be told that it was a fire alarm.

Dolores left all her possessions, carrying only her bag with the stuffed froggy she had bought for her baby and tried to run.

But being pregnant doesn't make it very easy. Even more, if there was a fucking fire at the place.

People went haywire. Very few cared about the fact that she was carrying a baby, and they should have the minimum decency to help. Most would selfishly try to save themselves, not giving a damn about anyone.

Dolores tried to pave a way for reaching the elevator. It was nearly impossible for her to get down the stairwell in time to save herself from the hazardous situation. She could see that most of the people had already evacuated.

Why was the fire department not here yet?

The fire was ablaze, surroundings hot, and amidst all, Dolores walked slowly, worried only about her little tadpole and not herself.

She pressed the buttons of the elevator. Waited. But nothing budged.

Fuck it!

Smoke engulfed her and she felt suffocated. All through the light-headedness, she could faintly hear, the siren of the ambulance. She hoped someone would save her from this fiery hell.

But there was no one to help her. No one around. The building burnt and if she did not think of something quickly, she would burn with it as well.

Not viewing any other options, she screamed with as much strength she could garner. Once, Twice, Thrice.

The next actions happened quicker than the blink of an eye. She saw a handsome EMT rush towards her. Even though she was already in a blazing environment, she couldn't stop the he's hot reflex of her brain cells. He came to her and reassured her that he would be able to save her and her baby, picked her up, and slowly, yet swiftly, got out of there.

Just like a superhero.

She thought of telling this story of Super-Man coming to save him and his Mama to her baby and the thought made her giggle.

Her head was light, and she felt choked, but her mind would keep going to the little angel of her womb, worrying only for him.

The last she remembers was reaching the ambulance and coughing vigorously. She couldn't breathe normally. She tried and failed miserably. A slow sensation of blacking out and after that, everything blank.

After who knows how long, Dolores feels the glare of white lights around her giving her eyes a painful competition to open up. She squints, tiredness spreading through her body. From office work or the life-threatening experience? She does not know.

She slowly, very slowly, tries to sit up, her hand on her belly, tenderly stroking it, as if to let the child know that his Mamma would not let any harm come to him. Nurses check in on her, one of them replacing the oxygen mask with a nose tube, and she felt a bit more relaxed.

As she was taking in the surroundings, she realized,

Edenbrook!

Coming back here after so many years brought back many memories. The first time she came here. Oh, how panicked she was! She was getting jitters but that calm and brilliant doctor took care of her, not only inside the hospital but also outside it.

Dr Ethan Ramsey.

He still worked here, he had told her in his last email. I need to meet him! She thought.

When was the last time they had met? In that coffee shop last year, right? It had been long.

She traced the name she had thought for her tadpole over and over again on her belly as if to make him memorize it before coming here to her, and looked around.

There was a minimum difference between the room she had been kept in the first time and the one in which she was now, but the time gap made her feel everything was new.

All of a sudden the door swayed, letting in a young doctor and,

Ethan!

She was genuinely excited about seeing him. Of all the possibilities, she hadn't really considered the fact that he would be coming to treat her. He has important cases to take care of than petty smoke inhalation, right?

A frown appears on his forehead. "What did you get yourself into this time, Dolores?"

His stern tone is the tough layer of a walnut, which hid his soft corner, the concerned heart. She smiled at the realization.

She quickly filled him in with all the details. The fire. The hot superman. The baby. Everything.

She finds the young doctor's surprise about Ethan having friends amusing. The look of surprise she had on her face was priceless.

But when the doctor asked her,

"Was Dr Ramsey always so mean?" she guards her mouth using her hand, "And so handsome?"

It was Dolores's turn to be shocked. She knew just how much Ethan hated interns. He used to whine about how stupid they were all the time to her, online & offline. And here was this intern, having enough courage to ask her such a question in front of him.

Impressive!

"This man's definitely got grouchier than before, but even then he had an edge"

"And as for handsome, I think he has aged like a fine wine" Dolores winked and Ethan fumbled for words.

When he got his tone back, it was strict.

No matter what anyone else thought, Dolores knew the real Ethan. The one without his rough and tough exterior and mean demeanour.

And that Ethan, if he ever came out, would make everyone fall in love with him.

As the doctors mumbled between themselves, she looked around, searching for something.

Umm Hmm. She couldn't see it.

"Excuse me Doctor Sharma" Both of them turned to look at her. "I remember having my bad when the hunk brought me out. Did they bring it here?" She asks, anxiety on its borderline, ready to burst out.

She needed it. Very Much.

Dr Sharma looks around for a bit, carefully conscious eyes trained to spot abnormalities. Her eyes, soon enough, fall on the side table of the bed and she picks the purse up and hands it over to Dolores.

Another frantic search follows. She turns all the contents up and down, her happy demeanour replaced with a visible frown.

It's not here, she says, evidently panicked.

A sadness spreads on her face.

"I must have dropped it in the office" She is on the verge of crying.

Dr Sharma places a kind hand on her shoulder. What Happened? Her questioning eyes wordlessly ask.

Dolores sighs, "It probably sounds stupid but I saw this adorable little frog on my lunch break and had to get it for my little tadpole."

"My parents are gone and the father's not in the picture." She adoringly places a hand on her swollen belly, "I just want everything to be perfect for him."

Dr Sharma gives her shoulder a gentle push of reassurance, and adds, "It's not stupid Dolores, absolutely not. I feel like you're going to be a great mom."

Her words make Dolores smile despite the upsetting circumstances, "Thank You. I- I just wished I hadn't lost it."

She stays lost in the thoughts and daydreams of her little tadpole playing with his first gift, growing ever more upset with every passing second.

"I and Dr Ramsey will find it for you!" Dr Sharma's excited tone jolts her out of her thoughts.

She is surprised first and slowly a smile appears, "Really Ethan? You would do that for me?"

He hesitates.

"Erm- Yes, sure." He fumbles.

"Dr Sharma, let's get this urine sample to the lab first. I will meet you in the lot in ten minutes."

Relieved and Happy, Dolores exclaims, "I am 26 weeks pregnant, Ethan. Not gonna take 10 minutes to make me pee!"

And in 15 minutes, they take her urine sample away and bid adieu with a promise of bringing her token of love for her tadpole back.

She was extremely grateful for Dr Sharma. She doubted if Ethan had given in the first time if it had not been her taking initiative.

Wait a Minute.

Ethan Ramsey listened to an intern? That too, in the first time itself? The observation blew her mind.

She recounted the time he had called her to his home to give a dinner treat. Lovely memories of a different face of the man came to her mind like the waves reaching the shore, one after the other.

"Mmm... Ethan, this is delicious!" Dolores found herself falling deeply in love with this masterpiece of Georgian stuffed chicken.

"Thank You, but it wouldn't have got done without your help" Ethan was never the type to take credit. Boast, Huh? What's that?

That's what she liked the most about him. A fine, handsome man, talented without bounds, a successful doctor having shitloads of money and a chef. He was a complete package and yet seemed to be subtly unaware of it.

They chatted about everything from opera to music to their first meet. It was a jolly time.

That is, until, the conversation landed on romance.

"So, seeing anyone?"

"No, not currently." He blushes a bit.

"Imagine" Dolores leans back on her chair, stretching her legs, "if, I said if, you fell in love with," she pauses to look at his curious face, "an intern?"

"Impossible."

It came even before she had finished the word. Dolores was amused.

"Just imagine!"

"I don't want to waste time imagining something as implausible as that. Can we talk about something else please?"

And here he was today, listening to an intern, a different demeanour than usual. Not that it was love, yet, but there was something.

Was he impressed by her?

He talked differently, listened patiently to the young doctor. That Ethan Ramsey who would not stand with an intern for 5 minutes, listened to one?

Anyone who knew him would laugh off the fact and say it was a joke.

Dolores made sure that if it happens, the falling in love with an intern, she will not let Ethan see the end of it. Teasing him to annoyance, yes that's what she would do.

She turned on some soft classical music on her phone, spreading an instant calm and dozed off for a while...

She gets up with a start on the sound of the door opening. She rubs her eyes to get a better view of the people in front of her.

It was Ethan and Dr Sharma!

She looked at them and yes! there it was, her tadpole's froggy.

She was overjoyed.

"You got it!" Dolores breaks into a grin as the sterilized frog is given to her.

"Happy now?" Ethan asks, the faintest glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Yes, very, very, much! Thank you so much, Ethan."

She pulls Dr Sharma into a small hug, "You too Dr Sharma, thank you!"

"Of course, Dolores." The young woman's beautiful face gleams at her, "and you can call me Pooja."

After few minutes of chit chat, Pooja leaves to get Dolores's reports.

"Switch on the TV Ethan, it's boring to sit here and do nothing."

"You know you can do better things than watching stupid TV shows?"

"I am doing it because I want to. The least who can do is help me." She shrugs.

"Fine, fine."

After going on a roundabout tour of the various broadcasted shows, they settled to watch a comedy.

Soon Ethan's stoicism got lost in the wilds and he started laughing along with her.

All the while Dolores held the Froggy affectionately to her tummy, to her little tadpole, as if to show it to him and ask if he likes it.

Amidst all the laughs, the medical reports are completely forgotten until there's a soft knock on the door and Ethan looks at someone from the corner of his eye and go out to meet them.

Still, she remains blissfully unaware of her health conditions and basks in the moments of delight she gets alone with her tadpole.

Her eyes remain glued to the TV screen until the doctors come in and from the morbid faces they wore, she knew that the reports were anything but good.

She switches off the TV.

"What is it? Ethan?"

Pooja steps forward, "I want you not to worry, Dolores."

She feels a mild panic attack bursting inside her, "T-That's what people say when there is something to be worried about. Is my tadpole okay?"

Pooja sighs, "Have you heard of preeclampsia? It's a disease affecting one out of ten pregnant women. In most cases, it is manageable, if monitored properly. But in your case-"

She pauses. And Dolores knows that whatever's coming will not be hopeful.

"It's serious."

Dolores quickly asks, "How serious?"

Not too much. Not too much. Please, god, not too much. She crosses her fingers.

"The blood flow to the placenta is slowing. It could deprive your baby of vital nutrients and oxygen."

With his morbid mask matching his melancholy tone, Ethan says, "Your baby is at risk."

Shit.

"B-But I can still feel the baby kicking!" She urges them to come and feel for themselves.

"Dolores it just means the delivery needs to be done early."

"Impossible." Dolores remarks with a deadly determination. "It's too soon."

"Babies delivered at 26 weeks have a good chance of survival." Dr Sharma tries to convince her.

"A-A chance?"

She is not going to play a game of chances with her beloved tadpole, her little jewel.

They keep convincing her.

"Yes he'll have to spend some time in the N.I.C.U and there are chances of post-birth complications-"

"And some don't make it at all. Is my baby is in danger now?" She asks with a motherly force.

"No, not immediately. But-" Ethan is on his tracks to convince her again.

"Then my little tadpole is staying put."

"Dolores—"

"No, Ethan! Just...give me some time! As long as you can give me. Please" It is a request from her heart, and she is on the verge of tears.

"I give you tonight. To come back to your senses."

When they leave, Dolores cries, caressing her belly, her little tadpole in there. She cannot take a risk with his goddamn life, never ever.

Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds the stuffed frog even tighter to herself, praying to god for his magical abilities and to save her baby.

Please.

She fell asleep while crying. When she wakes up, she finds a few unknown nurses and doctors standing there.

She tries to speak but cannot form words. Her head feels light, just like it did in the office building. She could not sense anything, swallowing was trouble.

She makes random sounds and the people come rushing to her, just as her body breaks into violent convulsions.

"We need to take her to the surgery, QUICK!"

They call for a code blue and everything that happens following that is a haze to her.

They are rushing her to the surgery. Her body shakes vigorously, and she can feel that she doesn't have much time left.

She holds the doctor's hand who was rushing her to the O.R.

"N-nam-me him-m E-Ethan."

And with that, she slowly spirals down the realm of unconsciousness, the last thought to ever strike her mind was,

Little tadpole, mamma loves you. You will be okay. Mamma will always be there with you, for you.

And with that her breath leaves her body, the last tear dropping on the O.R. bed.

As Ethan Hudson sees the light of his new life, Dolores passes away into the darkness.

I love you little tadpole.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🤍.

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @mercury84choices @udishaman @jamespotterthefirst

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

[thiswasinevitableid]

29 for indruck nsfw? i am already amused thinking about what sport either of them would play

Here you go!

29. I’m a professional athlete and I just fired my personal assistant and my manager sent you over but you don’t even know what sport I play or who my team is

When you’re in an aggressive profession it’s best, in Duck’s experience, to be as calm and friendly as you can the rest of the time.

But this whole shit-show is testing his fucking limits.

It’s been two days since he found out his perfectly fine P.A was working for the Wallstreet Journal, hoping to learn that Duck was somehow using his T or his identity to gain an unfair edge in matched. Ned fired him on the spot, thank god, but it took less than twelve hours for the guy to publish some fabricated piece on his attitude and for Duck to remember why he needed an assistant in the first place. He’s gotten so used to having one that he keeps forgetting stuff or dropping the ball on appointments, and the last thing he needs right now is to look like some stupid hick.

When Ned texts him to let him know his new P.A is en route, Duck groans “thank fuck” loud enough to startle the cat from her tree.

He goes to the door when someone knocks, but doesn’t open it.

“Who is it?”

“Indrid Cold? I, ah, Mr. Chicane said this was Duck Newton’s address and I’m supposed to start as his assistant tomorrow.”

Duck opens the door, “Fuck tomorrow, you’re startin today. I gotta focus on strategy with Minerva the next two days if I don’t wanna show my ass Friday night and it’s real fuckin hard to do that with people callin me left and right.” He guides the startled young man inside, then stops to take a deep breath, “sorry, lemme try that again” he holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

“Likewise, Mr. Newton.”

“Duck is fine. It’s a nickname. You bring your stuff with you?”

“Yes, it’s all in my car.”

“Good. Here, lemme give you the, uh, the grand tour, so to speak, on the way to your part of the place.”

Indrid smiles and nods, hanging back slightly as Duck leads him through the house. They cover the living room, kitchen, Duck’s bedroom, then come what was once the garage door.

“This here’s the gym; you can’t find me in the rest of the house, I’m probably here.”

“Goodness” The other man’s eyes widen behind his red glasses, “that’s an impressive array. I mean, I know professional athletes need to train but I, ah, I assumed you did it on site with the rest of your team.”

“Team?” Duck closes the door, spots Indrid’s fingers diving into his pockets to hide their twitching.

“Yes.”

“Which team?”

“Your...sports team?”

“....you got no fuckin clue who I am, do you?”

“No.” Narrow shoulders sag in his sweater.

Duck chuckles, “Figures.”

The silver haired head snaps back up, “Mr. Chicane didn’t say it was a prerequisite for hiring me.”

“Guess he didn’t. And I guess it ain’t. Just hoped they’d hire someone who knew what the fuck he was gettin into.”

Indrid crosses his arms, “They gave me a very thorough job description. I assure you I can do every part of it. Laying out your pre-workout and scheduling appearances isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t matter if the dry cleaning I pick up is for a, a baseball after party or some sort of charity basketball fundraiser.” It dawns on the taller man that he’s just snapped at his boss. He contracts in on himself, staring down at his black converse.

Duck takes the chance for a more careful look; all of his clothes are second hand, chosen as if he’s cosplaying a jock who went into white collar work. There are piercing holes in his ears, flecks of silver polish on his nails. This job application was a hail mary and Ned Chicane went ahead and caught.

“No harm done, slim.” He rests a friendly hand on Indrid’s arm, “think it’s time I enlightened you.”

His office doesn’t get used much, so a sprinkling of dust greets them as he flips on the lights and reveals posters, magazine covers, and newspaper clips bearing Duck’s face. The gloves he used to win his first fight hang in a place of honor, right above the photo of him and the other fighters from Amnesty Boxing. It’s an older photo, taken the first time they sent a team out of state, sun-faded to the point the writing on it is disappearing. It makes him smile all the same.

“This does explain the set of instructions for helping you cut weight if needed.” Indrid takes in the posters, then turns his attention to the corner dedicated to Duck’s model ship collection. He cocks his head, says more to himself than Duck, “boxer. Interesting.”

“Were you just gonna bluff about knowin who I was until I said somethin?”

“That and look for clues in the rest of the house.”

He smiles, “Like a man with a plan b. C’mon, lemme show you your room.”

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

Alright, so Indrid should have researched Duck Newton before turning up at his house so he didn’t come across as ignorant and unprepared. But he was busy running every Taskrabbit and UberEat he could get just to scrape up enough to keep his landlord off his back. Sue him for not wanting to sleep in his car again.

He never expected to get this job; live-in P.A who doesn’t have to pay for groceries (buy them, yes, since that’s one of his jobs) is not the kind of luck he’s familiar with. He keeps waiting for the catch, so nervous that when Duck pops in on him unpacking he assumes he’ll scold him for his wardrobe.

“I, should I buy some more professional clothes?”

Duck takes in the two duffle bags and backpack, “Up to you. I don’t mind you lookin like the little art punk you are, but a dress shirt or two might help if we gotta go somewhere real upscale. Don't worry about buyin it yourself; just use the same card we do for groceries.”

Indrid is still hung up on why the fact a man three inches shorter than him calling him “little” makes his chest burn. Luckily, the phone rings and distracts him. Then it rings again. And again. And again. All while the inbox doubles every time he looks at it.

This turns out to be the catch; the work is actually hard. Everyone and their uncle wants to interview Duck, get him to sponsor something, or proposition him. Four hours in, he’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and ready to hide under the desk. His fidget necklace isn’t helping, so he pulls out his chewable one; it often helps him think in high pressure moments.

The phone rings again and he growls at it.

“You’re allowed to let things go to voicemail, y’know.”

He spins in his chair, black rubber moth still in his mouth. Duck leans in the doorway, tank top soaked in sweat and towel around his shoulders

“I, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to drop anything important.”

“Ned handles the fights and the money, and anyone I care about has my private number for emergencies.”

“Right. I knew that.” Indrid can’t have his boss thinking he’s a total space-case.

Duck smiles, “What I’m sayin is; ain’t the end of the world if you don’t get back to everyone right away. Besides, right now you need a lunch break, slim. Lemme go rinse off and I’ll join you.”

By the time Duck enters the kitchen in an old “NIN” shirt and jeans, Indrid has his protein bowl laid out for him and is finishing microwaving a hot pocket for himself. Before he can scurry away, Duck pats the seat beside him and Indrid sits down, preparin to politely listen to Duck talk about himself or his sport.

He talks for ten minutes about the trees he saw on his run that morning before asking Indrid what he did before coming to the house. Indrid explains about his art and his side hustles in tarot and palm reading, about the run of bad luck that saw him without roommates and lost him his steady gig at a coffee shop. Duck makes genuinely sympathetic noises, lets Indrid change the subject when the fact he was on the edge of disaster makes Indrid’s chest tighten. They’re still talking about music as Indrid returns to his desk and Duck goes to meet Minerva in the gym.

By the time Duck’s fight rolls around that weekend, Indrid is feeling much better. He has a system of sorting emails that works for him, some mothman stickers to help him organize the paper calendar on his desk, and more confidence in his ability to spot callers with ulterior motives. He’s shut down two separate ones looking to trap Duck into interviews where he’d be forced to defend his very identity. Duck overheard his responses to the second one and brought him back a fancy creme brulee latte from his breakfast as a thank you.

He doesn’t go to the fight; it’s a small one for charity and Duck has Ned to manage him, Minerva to train him, and Leo to coach him ringside. He doesn’t need his P.A. Instead, Indrid finishes up his correspondence for the day, makes sure Duck’s breakfast is all set in the fridge, and confirms the masseuse is coming in the morning.

Once in bed, Indrid gets sucked into the commission he’s doing and is lost to the world until a tired, satisfied face pokes through his door.

“Oh! Hello Duck. Did it go well? Do, ah, is there something you need from me?”

“Yep, I won like I thought I would. And nope; was just poppin in to say goodnight.”

No one’s said that to him in a long time. The bitterness of that realization is sweetened by Duck’s smile.

“Goodnight to you too, Duck.”

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

Minerva is sick, which wouldn’t be a problem except for one part of his workout. He could skip it, but he needs to keep everything sharp for when they go to L.A.

“‘Drid? You got a few minutes?”

His assistant appears in the doorway, black jeans and white “Cramps” tank-top fitting him in a way that makes Duck want to hold him face down on the floor and find out how to take his breath away.

“What do you need?”

Duck points to the heavy bag, “You up for bracin this while I hit it?”

“I...I am not as strong as Minerva.”

“You don’t gotta be; this is just to keep the damn thing from swinging while I’m doin this speed drill.”

“Alright.” Indrid takes off his glasses and sets them on the folding chair, joining Duck, “how do I hold it?”

Duck shows him, does a few test punches to make sure he won’t send the poor guy flying. The round clock dings green, and he’s off. The bag wobbles for the first few seconds, then Indrid seems to find his footing and holds it stable enough for the drill to work. When the round ends, Duck steps baack, “okay, you can let go until the next round.”

“Goodness.” Indrid stretches his hands, “I feel for your opponents. I’m jarred just from that.”

“You need to stop? I got two more rounds at least, but if it’s hurtin you I caan skip ‘em.”

Indrid shakes his head, smiling, “nono, I like helping you with this. It’s exhilarating.”

The bell dings.

“Glad to hear it. Now brace it again.”

By the end of round three, Indrid is panting loud enough for Duck to hear him over the fan. He looks up, glove still on the bag, and finds them face to face.

“Minerva said three to five rounds for this. You wanna keep goin?”

Indrid, breathless and grinning, nods, “Can’t have you slacking off, now can we?”

Duck wants to bite his lip, just to see what happens. Blames the thought on the adrenaline. Then discovers the exact same thought waiting for him when Indrid, cleaned and in his most respectable clothes, joins him in the car to go to an interview.

Ned gave the P.A a list of likely questions, so they practice those as they creep across the Bay Bridge. But Duck notices that on both the trip there and back, whenever there’s a lull in conversation Indrid is on his phone reading about boxing. Duck knows the other man fixates on topics that interest him; knowing one of Duck’s passions has earned that distinction makes him smile.

After that, he starts inviting Indrid to watch him train, or shares his thoughts about matches with him. That’s all it takes for Indrid to start drawing him into long, animated conversations about his sport. When Indrid asks why there’s such debate over the proper way to wrap hands and also how does Duck do his, Duck demonstrates.

“Here, ‘Drid, now you try it on me.”

The P.A moves the wraps slowly, deliberately, moving Duck’s hand like it’s a priceless treasure he’s readying for transport. Every time he bites his lip in concentration or brushes hair from his forehead, Duck has to remind himself to breathe.

“Done.” Indrid is still holding his left hand, “Did I do well?”

The boxer tests the wraps, wiggles his fingers and clenches his fists. Then he squeezes Indrid’s hand, “you did perfect, slim.”

Duck can wrap his hands in his sleep. But whenever he’s home, he finds Indrid and asks him to do the honors. Indrid does them every time. Perfectly.

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

Indrid stands in the green room with Ned and a cluster of arena employees. The roaring crowd a few walls away echoes through the screen. He’s never seen Duck fight, but this event required all hands on deck to handle P.R, scheduling, and making sure Duck had what he needed to win.

Duck and his opponent enter the ring. Touch gloves.

Indrid’s pulse climbs.

Then the bell sounds and no useful noises come through the T.V. Just the announcers shouting and being drowned out by the crowd. Indrid gives up on parsing the cacophony, focus only on Duck. He’s seen him practice, but in a true match he’s a different beast. His opponent is faster, that much is clear, but Duck is patient, steady, blocks and weaves until he can land blows that make Indrid hurt just watching them.

Duck is magnificent like this. Indrid has to draw him like this, has to capture this and keep it forever, he has to, he has…

He has a hard-on in the middle of the green room.

He sticks it out long enough to see Duck win and then bolts to the bathroom so it can be taken care of by the time the boxer is done with the post-fight interviews.

They go out to celebrate, and Duck never nudges Indrid aside to let someone more important sit next to him. And as the drive to the hotel, he nods off with his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

It only gets worse after that.

Duck will coax him into joining him for a run with the promise of a fancy breakfast. On cheat days, Duck orders food to the house or takes Indrid out to lunch, and somehow the thing he wants when not focused on macros is always the thing Indrid mentioned he’d been craving. He invites Indrid on hikes with him, starts taking him to all his events even though he seldom needs help or herding at them (“yeah, but it’s nice to have someone to crack jokes with”). And on days when Indrid needs to be alone, or wants to see other friends, Duck simply smiles and closes the door.

The most dangerous days are the ones without anything on the schedule. Then it’s all too easy for Indrid to pretend that they’re something they’re not while he draws at the table across from where Duck is building his model ship. Too easy to imagine that the water-wise garden Duck tends is something he put into their house, not his house that Indrid happens to live in. Too easy to admit that Indrid wants to look after him for no payment except being looked after in return.

Duck reciprocating his feelings is within the realm of possibility. Indrid’s caught him staring when he walks in on the P.A doing yoga, and the casual touches long ago made the leap from accidental to deliberate. He also knows that Duck can’t fire him--only Ned can--and hopes that might lead to the boxer slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him on the bed one of these days.

There’s also the tabloid site circulating a photo of them with a caption claiming he’s Duck’s “boytoy” in spite of them only being two years apart. They’re not even sitting that close in the picture; Duck’s just smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world, that’s all.

Currently, he’s having an easier time keeping his feelings buried because--ever since they landed in Vegas-- Duck has been a dick the rest of the day. Well, as much as a dick as he can be; his offenses are mainly snapping at people and lacking his usual patience.

When he scolds Indrid over something silly in the hotel that night, Indrid turns and stares at him over his glasses.

“Duck, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-uh, fuck, nothing, why do you, uh, fuck, I’m fine.”

“You just snapped at me in a way that was completely uncalled for.” He crosses his arms, “is it the fight? I know it’s a big one but that’s no reason to be rude.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I swear I won’t. Or, if I do, it will be after you leave.”

That gets a smile, “I’m uh, well, I’m what you’d call ‘horny as all fuckin get out.’”

Indrid’s immediate thoughts would solve the problem at hand while creating a new and far worse set, so he keeps them to himself and replies, “If need privacy, I can come back later and hold all your calls.”

“Nah.” Duck sits on the bed, “You’re not supposed to get off before a fight. Makes you too relaxed.”

“That strikes me as an old wives tale. Old boxers tale?”

“Either way, it’s one Minerva still believes. If I lose, she will ask about every possible cause, includin that one. Better if I just cat nap before I start all my pre-match stuff. Come get me in fort minutes?”

“Of course.” Indrid waves and closes the door before he offers to lay down in the hopes of Duck having a wet dream while holding him.

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

Duck wins, though it’s a tough battle to get there. He fucking hates these Pay-Per-View fights, they try to make it sound like he’s got beef with the other guy. In reality, once he’s down from a knockout, Duck is the one who helps him to the other side of the ring.

There’s a flurry of press afterwards, of questions and congratulations while all he wants to do is shower. He gets clean, promises Ned they can all go out to celebrate later. As he and Indrid finally escape to his suite he’s forced to admit that--if the thoughts of hitting the “fire” button and fucking Indrid against the wall are any indication--his problem from earlier hasn’t gone away.

“Do you need me to see if I can get a masseuse up here? You look very stiff.”

“Just uh, just tense.” Why did he tell Indrid he liked those jeans on him? He’s worn them as often as he can since.

Indrid cocks an eyebrow, “Still pent up even though the fighting is done?”

“Yep.”

The P.A shakes his head, hiding a smirk, “Do you need me to find something for you to watch?”

“No.”

“I mean it, this place has all the good channels.” He’s so earnest, picking up the channel guide like it, rather than those fucking jeans and shirt with Duck’s name on it, has what Duck needs.

“No.” He growls.

Indrid sighs, sets the book back down, “This mood is annoying us both, so just tell me what kind of porn you want and I can go out and buy it.”

“Unless they got somethin called ‘boxer jackhammers skinny artist until he cries’ we’re gonna be shit out of luck!”

The P.A blinks, “Duck, this is Vegas, I can probably find that. Or look for it on your laptop…” he trails off when their eyes meet. Duck knows he must look like he’s ready to jump him. Indrid licks his lips, “Duck? What, ah, what exactly lead to this situation?”

“You really wanna know, slim?” Duck steps across the carpet, notices Indrid padding over the black and blue patterns to meet him.

“Yes.”

Duck removes Indrid’s glasses, “Had a dream about you while I was on the plane. Woke up havin just finished fuckin you open. First thing I thought was “no big deal, ‘Drid’s right here. We can do the real thing once we get to the hotel.’ Then I fuckin remembered that we couldn’t, and I know for damn sure that if I jerk off I won’t feel satisfied because you’re be over there” he jabs his thumb at the door connecting their rooms, “so close and completely outta my reach.”

“So keep me right here instead.” Indrid purrs, fingers tentatively finding Duck’s hips. The light contact splinters his self-control and he practically tackles Indrid onto the bed, kissing him as the taller man moans and paws at his clothes.

The kiss takes the heat off enough to clear the steam fogging up his head and sits up, “This really okay?”

“I would have said if it wasn’t now for goodness sake please get back down here.” Indrid yanks him forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together. He’s humming and sighing every time Duck touches him, rolling his hips to display a quickly forming hard-on.

“Aw, sugar, you gettin excited just from kissin’?” Duck grinds down just to see him gasp.

“Y-yes. I, Duck, I’ve wanted this for months.”

The implication of those words slam his desire into overdrive, “You sneaky little thing, that why you kept runnin around in tight clothes?”

“Most of my clothes h-hang off me.” Indrid holds tight to Duck’s thighs as the boxer strips his shirt off, “but yes I, I did start wearing what you liked more often.”

“Ain’t that thoughtful. And what were you hoping would happen, slim?” Duck yanks his sweats off and kicks them to the floor.

“This.” Indrid’s eyes keep slipping down to stare at Duck’s dick.

The boxer strokes himself lazily, “like what you see?”

“So much.”

“Then how about a closer look, sugar?” He crawls up Indrid’s body to straddle his face. It looks even better than normal framed by his thighs.

“Do I get to touch too?”

Duck guides his hands onto his ass, “As much as you want. You gonna be sweet and let me fuck your face, or am I gonna have to hold your mouth open?”

Indrid opens his mouth instantly, a whimper creeping out of it as Duck strokes his hair. The sound morphs into a louder, but muffled, moan when Duck sinks down. He teases his dick against Indrid’s lips, drags slick across his chin, feels his jaw tremble with wanting to close. Duck shifts so his dick touches Indrid’s tongue, “get to it. Oh fuck” he braces a hand on the wall, “heh, didn’t know Ned screened for cocksuckin skills.”

Indrid shakes his head, brown eyes wide as Duck roughly rides his face.

“No? He didn’t make you demonstrate on some of the other fighters? Didn’t make sure you could make a whole gym cum to prove your mouth was good enough for me?”

“‘O” Indrid shakes his head again, silver strands sticking to the pillow as he kneads Duck’s ass in a way that makes him groan.

“Too bad for them. Because now they ain’t ever gonna get a chance.”

A whimper and write of the torso; Duck glances over his shoulder to watch Indrid buck his hips in the air, pre-cum clear on his crotch. His feet, still in their shoes, point and flex as he moans around Duck’s dick.

“You like that, don’t you sugar?” He threads both hands into Indrid’s hair, pinning his head down or pulling it closer as it suits him, all the while gently rubbing his scalp “like knowin’ that you’re doin well.”

A harder suck in reply.

“Then be a good little cocksucker and make me cum.” He holds his head down and let’s loose, grinding and grunting in pursuit of the heat that starts at Indrid’s tongue and is steadily curling up into Duck’s belly. The other man holds him tight, moaning and licknig and sucking until Duck cums on his mouth, the lasts bursts of it happening against a slackening jaw.

As soon as his legs cooperate, he climbs off and guides Indrid to sit up in his arms. His attempt to check on the other man is interrupted by a frantic kiss.

“I was gonna ask if you wanna keep goin’, but I think I got my answer.”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean please don’t stop yet. Please I, we can do whatever you like, we can do just this, you can drag me out on the balcony and fuck me in full view of the city-”

“Easy, slim, easy.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s start with somethin simple. Get naked and get comfy on your back for me. I gotta go grab somethin from down the hall.”

His memory turns out to be spot on; the vending machine on this floor has toiletries, including condoms and a travel bottle of lube. He buys ten of one and three of the other, drops them in the pockets of his robe and hurries back to Indrid. Sprawled on the bed, he looks painfully vulnerable, like someone who got used to life kicking him and telling him to stay down.

It’ll be different when they’re together, Duck can promise that much.

“Seem to recall you wanting me to keep you here.” He grabs a handwrap, holds it where Indrid can see, “how do you feel about me usin this?”

“Extremely good. Oh, oh hello.” He laughs when Duck rolls down beside him to pepper his face with kisses. The process of trapping his hands to the headboard is prolonged thanks to their mutual need to keep kissing every five seconds.

“Now” Duck kisses his shoulder, “I didn’t bring any toys to fuck you with, so it’s just gonna be my hand.”

“You say that as if it’s a disappointment to me and not incredibly sexy.”

“Some folks don’t think you’re fuckin ‘em unless you use somethin dick-shaped.” Duck shrugs with a flicker of sadness from the last time he had that conversation.

“Tell me who insulted your body or your skills in bed and I shall stand outside their window with a megaphone informing them of how terrible their manners are and how they missed out on the finest man in the world.”

“That’d be funny” Duck leisurely kisses his belly and hips before sitting up, “but you’d have to get outta bed.”

“True. Ah well, a sternly worded email will have do OOOh, oohhhyes.” He wiggles his hips as Duck presses in the first finger, relaxing under his touch.

“Get the feelin you’ve done this before”

“Yes.” Indrid’s chest is flushed and Duck reaches up his free hand to play with his nipples.

“What’s the most you’ve taken?”

“Th-three, I believe. I, ah, I’m usually facing away so I sometimes lose track.”

“You're takin four tonight. Can’t believe anyone would wanna miss out on how you look when you’re getting fucked.” He teases the second finger to prove his point and Indrid’s mouth curves with bliss.

“My ass is many people’s type; my face not so much.”

“Fuck that.” Duck pushes the second finger in. Indrid arches, then sighs as Duck keeps working him open.

“I find it difficult to care what they thought right now. I, ahhhn, it’s much more fun to think about you.”

“About me…?”

“About right you’re doing right now and, AH, what we can do next. I do so want to sit in your lap in the hot tub back home.”

“Can manage that. What else?”

“I’d very much l-like to fuck you, however you’ll let me and, and I want us to do it right after you train some day, you look so good like thatAHgod.” The third finger is in and Indrid is now steadily pushing down on them, “and one of the times you get me to run with you I expect a blow job in reward oh, ohfuck” his eyes are wild and eager, “please do the last one, I’m ready, I want it so badly, please.”

Duck begins teasing the fourth finger, “Think all those wants of yours sound real good. You wanna know mine?”

“Absolutely. AHaahnnnahgod” The wrap tightens as Indrid clings to it, trying to stabilize himself as Duck fucks his hand into him hard.

“Soon as we get home, I’m gettin the strap-on and fuckin you for a solid hour at least. Gonna leave you so fuckin raw and relaxed you won’t wanna do anything but lay there, and you’ll goddamn get to because you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Duck” it’s a happy sob, Indrid’s cock bobbing in the air.

“Gonna take a trip somewhere private, just the two of us, and you’re gonna spend the whole fuckin time tied up, to the bed, a chair, whatever the fuck else I feel like so I can ride your dick whenever I want.”

“Yes.” Indrid is barely getting out words between his cries.

“And the next time you have the fuckin nerve to wear tight jeans the day I gotta fight, I’m gonna shove a vibration plug up that cute little ass and lock your cock in a cage so we can both be horny without bein able to get off.”

“Duck please, I’m close, please touch-”

He wraps his fingers around Indrid’s dick and works him over hard and fast, “Soon as I’m done with that fight, you’re gonna blow me in the locker room so I can focus on nailin your ass into next week when we get--ohfuck!” Cum hits his chin as Indrid gasps and squeaks, scratching at the wraps and the headboard.

If Duck ever loses his memory, he hopes this is the last moment to go; Indrid Cold, happy, safe, and satisfied while he moans Duck’s name.

Indrid is boneless as Duck undoes the bonds, though he rallies enough to pull the boxer into a hug so he can cuddle him like a teddy bear. He kisses his throat, feels his pulse even out beneath his lips.

“Duck? Does, ah, does this mean what I think it does?”

The phone rings right as he’s about to answer. It’s probably Ned, so he holds up a finger and grabs the receiver.

“Go for Duck. Yeah, yeah that’ll be fine” he nods as Ned explains the plan for their exclusive, late night dinner, “yeah, tell ‘em five; you, Minerva, Leo, me and” he winks at a beaming Indrid, “my boyfriend.”

[cunningambitousdetermined]

i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me. 

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces. 

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

~

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

~

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship. 

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing. 

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

  ~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears. 

~

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse. 

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent. 

“We’ll still be best friends right?” 

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing. 

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally,  she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’. 

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

~

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for.  Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

[izumiyagami14]

overthinking

enlightenmonth // [day 9-12] past or future Summary: After receiving an offer for the job of her dreams, Hikari has too much on her mind. She needs to talk to someone to…

A dimly lit phone screen engulfed Hikari’s pale face as she let out a defeated sigh. The chirping from the crickets outside wasn’t the only thing keeping her up. For the first time in a long time, she had too much on her mind.

On her phone showed an email with the subject titled: “Kindergarten Teaching Position Offered!” Of course, at first she was excited to be offered her first job in the field she just graduated from, but now, all the different scenarios played in her head, causing her stomach to turn.

She needed to talk to someone.

She scrolled through her contacts, desperately trying to find someone, anyone to talk to.

Taichi? He’s alseep.

Takeru? He’s on a vacation with his brother before he starts his career.

Sora? She’s busy with her career.

Mimi? She probably wouldn’t understand her overthinking.

Who would understand what she is going through?

Hikari kept scrolling until she landed on a familiar name on her list. She hesitated for a second before pressing the dial button.

The phone rang twice before the call was picked up.

“Hello?”

She exhaled in relief. “Hey, Koushiro.”

“Everything alright?” His voice sounded tired but full of concern.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is good... To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to pick up…”

“I’m always up at this time.” Concerned tone turned to defeated as a pause settled in. “Are you sure you’re okay, Hikari?”

She inhaled deeply. He always knew when something was up. “Actually, can you come over? I really need someone to talk to.”

Without hesitation, he responded, “I’ll be over in ten.”

In seven minutes, Hikari’s phone buzzed next to her pillow. A text filled the screen from the man she was waiting for with one word: Balcony. She replied with a simple okay and tiptoed to the balcony, careful not to wake her brother and her parents. She unlocked the door latch.

As she slowly opened the sliding screen door, the late summer breeze brushed her skin. She cautiously walked over to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Koushiro stood there hands in his pockets in the pale moonlight, giving Hikari a soft smile. She returned the smile and waved. “Give me a minute. I just need to plan my escape route,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Roger that,” he nodded.

She quietly walked back inside, put on her shoes and grabbed the nearest throw blanket. As she made it to the front door, she hesitated on grabbing her hoodie from her room. She shook her head, deciding against it as she might wake someone up, grabbed her keys, and slowly closed the door behind her, careful not to make a sound.

Hikari ran down the stairs and walked over to Koushiro. “Thanks for coming,” she huffed, out of breath.

“Of course. Did you have any place in mind to talk?” Koushiro asked, looking down at her.

“We can just sit on the roof of the complex, if that’s okay with you,” she replied.

“That’s alright with me,” he agreed and the two started their route.

For it being 2:14 in the morning, the summer cicadas sang in the crisp night air, filling in the holes of silence casted between the two. As they made their way up the complex’s stairs to the rooftop, the evening night had a slight chill, causing Hikari to shiver for a brief second. Once at the top, she walked over to a clear spot and laid out the blanket for the two to sit on. She sat down with her legs stretched forward and patted the empty spot next to her, indicating for him to join.

“So,” Koushiro started as he sat down, knees up for his elbows to rest on them. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

There was a lingering pause. She kept her head facing toward her feet in front of her, unable to answer his question. “How are you doing? Are you liking your new career job?”

Her answering his question with a question caught him off guard. “Uh, it’s going well… Besides working late every night and the occasional all-nighters, it’s going… great.” His tone said otherwise. “How about you? You just graduated from college, so are you looking for jobs right away?”

“Yeah, I might…” she stiffly responded, leaning backward on her hands and keeping her eyes away from his. She wanted to bring up her pending email, but couldn’t.

“Hikari, are you okay?” He asked, looking down at her. He always knew when something was up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been… thinking a lot,” she responded, gazing out into the distance and trying her best to dodge his eyes.

“What about, if I might ask?” He asked, studying the girl next to him as the gears turned in his head.

“Do you ever think about our childhood?”

He was taken a little aback by her next question, still positive that this isn’t the main topic in her mind. “All the time,” he eventually responded.

She smiled softly. “Even though we were the Digidestined-“

“And still are.” He lightly added.

She giggled and nodded at his response. She looked up at the night sky to gather her thoughts. “Yes, and still are. And even though we basically had the weight of the world on our shoulders, some of us never really realized it until later. We were only kids. Our only worries were about the small things. Like what to wear to school and who would we sit with at lunch.”

Koushiro continued to look at Hikari, determined to find the underlying meaning to their discussion. Even though he couldn’t really relate to where her part of the conversation was going because he always realized their overgrown, overwhelming responsibility, he continued to listen. “That is correct…”

She let out a sigh as she continued. “As we continue to grow older, our life choices are getting bigger… Our future is closely approaching.” And I’m terrified. “And sometimes… I wish it would slow down and go back to the way things were.”

Koushiro looked up and let out a similar sigh. “I understand that bit. I wish I had more time, too.”

Another breeze of chilly night air rushed through, causing chills to run through Hikari’s body. Before he realized what he was doing, Koushiro slowly took off his flannel jacket and lightly placed it on the girl’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a genuine smile.

“Anytime.”

They continued to sit on the blanket as a comfortable silence hovered over the two. Koushiro was busy analyzing her questions, actions, and nonverbal cues and trying to figure out the real reason she wanted to talk. She mentioned my career, changed the subject about her future, and bought up the past. What could it be?

There was a slight discomfort in Hikari’s breath when she finally asked, “Do you think-“

“All the time. I’m a great thinker, you know,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it” she giggled and tried again. “Do you think-“

“Yes, I do.”

Hikari gave him a quick nudge with her shoulder, causing him to go a little off balance. “Will you quit that? I’m trying to ask you something serious, Koushiro.”

“My apologies. Ask away,” he replied once he fixed his posture.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He joked again.

“Do you think,” she started, but paused to figure out how to word the next part. “Do you think I’ll be a good teacher?”

Koushiro twisted his head at her in disbelief. “What makes you ask that?”

She continued to look down. “I don’t know. I’ve just been… thinking…”

Koushiro dropped his shoulders when the realization of her actions rang in his head. “Hikari, what was it you really wanted to talk about?”

She exhaled sharply, unable to move around the dilemma anymore. “I was just offered a job for teaching Kindergarten.”

He smiled, his mind guessing right. “That’s prodigious! Are you going to accept it?”

She nodded her head, looking off into the distance. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll probably take it.”

Koushiro sensed her uneasy aura from the hesitation from her voice. “Hikari, are you sure you’re okay?”

And just with those simple words, Hikari’s thoughts exploded inside of her and gushed out. “I’m just so worried I’m going to fail! I’ve wanted to do this my whole life! And now that it’s finally here, I’m terrified that it might not be what I was hoping it would! What if the kids hate me! What if I’m unable to manage the classroom! What if I can’t teach math! What if…-“

Koushiro’s eyes popped out of his head at her outbursts and instinctively reached out to her. The two were now entangled in one another, Hikari’s head on Koushiro’s chest with his arms securely around her.

They remained like that for a few long minutes before Koushiro gathered his thoughts to speak. “Hikari, it’s going to be fine. You can’t think like this. It’s going to consume you. It’s going to suffocate you.” He whispered to her, thinking about all the times he was alone like this. This can’t happen to her.

“I’m just so worried…” she breathed into his shirt with her face buried into his chest. His scent started to comfort her. “I’m sorry. I’m probably just overthinking everything. I don’t need to burden you with this.”

“You’re not being a burden. No one should go these thoughts alone…” Koushiro brought her head under his chin and thought about what to say next. He needed to choose his next words carefully. “The future is always uncertain, and that’s okay. One thing that is certain is that you will be a great teacher.”

Her sniffled and pulled away to meet his gaze. “You really think so?”

“I know so. The absolute best. Take the job, Hikari. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

After a couple minutes of calming her breath, she nodded and let out a shaky exhale “Okay, I will.” She placed her head on his shoulder. He placed his elbows back on his knees and resumed his previous spot.

The two continued to sit together under the moonlight and a comfortable silence. Koushiro could still hear the the gears turning in her head when she asked, “What if a student is having difficulty reading?”

“Then you’ll think of some strategies to help with that.”

“What if a student gets gets sick?”

“Then you’ll be able to take care of them.”

“What if a child gets sees a spider and freaks out so much that they run out of the classroom and out of the school and down the street..”

Koushiro laughed at her over exaggerating thoughts, continuing to stare off in the distance. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Let’s talk about it. What goes on through your mind?” She whispered, sending chills down his spine.

The dark blue and purple hues from the slowly rising sun started to send a warm welcome to the new day. He wanted to continue and talk to Hikari every day if he could, but now was not the time.

“We’ll talk about me another day. Let’s get you to bed. You need to rest.” Koushiro whispered back to her.

The two slowly stood up and Koushiro grabbed the blanket from underneath and handed it to Hikari. She started to take off his jacket, but he held a hand up to stop her. “I’ll come back tomorrow to pick it up.”

They walked down the stairs and stopped by the front door of the Yagami residence. The comfortable silence landed between the two again. Their evening talk was coming to an end, but neither of them wanted it to.

“Thank you again for coming,” Hikari admitted. “You didn’t have to come, you know...”

Koushiro shrugged. “I know, but I wanted to. If you ever need to talk, I’m always here to lend an ear.”

Hikari took a step toward him and placed a hand on his cheek. She felt him shiver at the touch, but didn’t know if it was from her hand or if it was from the cold, crisp evening air. “Same goes for you, too. You don’t have to do everything by yourself. We’ll talk about you another night.”

Even though she was struggling tonight with her thoughts and her future, she always had time to care for others. That’s how he knew she would be the greatest teacher ever.

He nodded and unknowingly leaned into her hand. “Let me know how your first day goes, okay?”

“I will,” she said with a smile and kissed him on the cheek.

He felt his face heat up and he froze in his place. Instead of saying what was going through his genius mind, he silently watched her turn around and locate her keys in her pockets. As she turned the key and slowly opened the front door, he started to turn toward home.

“Hey, Koushiro?” Her angelic voice stopped him dead in his tracks and he turned back to her.

“Hmm?”

She gave him a soft smile that made his heart flutter. “Take care of yourself.”

He returned the smile, hands in his pockets. “Same goes for you, too.”